#Ominous door noises my beloved

[elias-drawsthings]

After listening to TMA I couldn't help but think about slightly ominous doors, so here are some small sketches I did late last year.

I'm planning to digitize/add onto them a bit, so keep posted!

[onyourowndaisymae]

when satan falls in love

content + warnings: satan x reader, satan's in his demon form and his tail is Not Cooperating, fluff // [masterlist]

word count: ~1.4k

satan's feet drag along the floor as he journeys from the front door to his safe haven. he stopped hiding his demon form the moment he trudged through the door-- now his heavy footsteps and the ominous drag of his tail against the ground are what tell people to stay away. the barbs catch a little along the wood floors. lucifer will bitch at him again when he notices, but right now satan isn't the least bit worried about his older brother's opinions.

the door to his room shuts with a loud thunk! the bookcases shudder with effort, the disorganized book stacks groaning with a quiet threat of toppling over. the noise echoes to his high ceilings, then dies amongst poetic words and fantastical novels.

he collapses on his bed and groans testily. his tail flicks about, impatient, looking for things to destroy-- he knows if he gives into his destructive urges he'll only regret it later. he's lost countless tomes to a fit of rage, spent hours cleaning up his messes only to piss himself off more.

satan rolls over and closes his eyes, practicing his breathing exercises to calm himself down. what had him worked up this much, anyways?

lots of things. his brothers had been especially rowdy today, starting his day off with an unusually irritating breakfast. then he had a surprise quiz early in the day. at lunch, you were whisked away by lord diavolo for some bullshit reason or another. he can still picture the apologetic look on your face, waving over your shoulder with a slight frown as you had to abandon him in favor of your responsibilities. pair that with a few hellish classes and another surprise student council meeting, and you'll understand why satan is particularly testy today.

damn. after all this time, he'd grown much better at making sure he could handle massive slights that pissed him off. it's the stacking of little things on top of each other that presses his buttons.

in truth, he'd probably be better if he'd seen more of you lately. lunch just seemed to be a tipping point in the drought of your love. how long has it been since he's been able curl up with you at his side? since he's gotten a moment to have a proper date with you? the tangled emotions only make his blood boil more.

his emerald eyes catch something unfamiliar at the edge of his vision. he knows the layout of his room top to bottom-- any minor changes to his disorganization are noted fairly quickly, regardless of what others might think.

there's an envelope peaking out of a nearby bookshelf. it's subtle, but noticeable enough when he believes he was intended to find it. his first instinct is to be angry. who the fuck thought they were entitled to access his room when he was gone?

satan rises from his bed and angrily snatches the envelope from its hiding spot. he's ready to rip it in half in a destructive fit of rage when he spots your handwriting on the front. the fire inside of him settles to embers as his eyes follow the curl of your letters as you wrote his name. he could spot that handwriting anywhere. the "s" in his name swoops with grandeur, like you're going out of your way to be fancy, and he can't help but smile a little. he opens the letter carefully-- there's no way he won't keep whatever this is, all because it came from you-- and begins to read your familiar scrawl across a nice piece of stationary.

my beloved satan,

i've missed you! that's odd to say considering we live together, but... life seems to find new ways every day to keep us apart. it's weird to look back on my day and realize i've barely seen you. we barely get a peaceful lunch together anymore! there's always someone joining us or pulling one of us away before we can settle... i don't mean to sound clingy, but i don't think it's bad to want to have some alone with your boyfriend!

as i'm writing this, i'm cooped up in diavolo's office during a little break in some meetings. there's some trouble with some of their human world contacts, so i've been brought in to act as a "bridge" between the two. that apparently means sitting through lots of boring, professional talks and trying to pretend like i'm not about to fall asleep. barbatos made some really nice tea, though, and that's been my saving grace so far.

i can't wait until we find some alone time again. i've never found something more peaceful than cuddling up to you while you're reading and listening to you breathe. if i rest my hand on your chest, i can hear your steady heartbeat, too. you always tease me for being so sleepy and run your hand along my back, but who wouldn't fall asleep under those conditions? i just feel so at peace when i'm with you. nobody else can make me feel so safe and cared for. even when we're not together, knowing you're there for me makes each day better.

was it weird of me to write this as a letter? i hope not. you hear about people writing their lovers romantic love letters in the movies and books. i thought i'd give it a try. it's nice to have a physical reminder of someone's feelings for you. ticket stubs and stuffed animals are nice, but i wanted to give you something that illustrates my feelings more clearly. i adore you. you mean the world to me. i feel like it's harder to say things like that when you look at me, but here in the letter i'll say it as many times as i want to. you are my best friend, satan, and i'm glad to have you as my partner.

i hope this letter makes you smile. i'm planning on hiding it in your room, so hopefully it'll take you a bit to find it.

yours always,

mc

so much for him waiting to find the letter.

in the quiet of his room, devoid of all distraction except the gentle whir of the air leaving a nearby vent, satan realizes he's in love with you.

his body freezes. for these past few weeks, he's intellectualized his feelings for you-- it's not love, but adoration. infatuation. lust, even. but no. he can feel the realization settling on his shoulders like a warm blanket fresh from the dryer.

when he was created, all satan would feel was reckless, horrifying, world-ending rage. it consumed him like a wildfire during a dry season, devouring any part of him that might be redeemable with the crackle of wild grass and the unforgiving heat. but meeting you changed him. his smiles were no longer plastic, but easy and natural. his irritation often simmered in his chest instead of exploding from his lips as harsh words, now just huffs and sharp glances.

you made him better. he knows now there's more to him than wrath. every single positive change in his life ever since you came to the devildom was driven by you.

he takes a deep breath to calm himself. instead of wrath, he's fighting the flush creeping up the back his neck. he reads the letter again, then again, each time sparking something in his stomach that he had to push down.

love. so this is what it feels like, huh?

he's read his fair share of sappy stories, but they all pale in comparison to the real thing. it's unsettling for him to be bursting with positive emotion, but here he is. flushed, stiff, listening to the silence as his heartbeat pounds in his ears. it takes him too long to realize that his tail was swishing behind him, thumping against a nearby chair enthusiastically. that only embarrasses him more-- is he really so in love with you that he's wagging his tail like a dog?

originally, he thought to corner you right now and show you just how much he appreciates the letter. but with his body acting out like this...

satan takes a seat his desk, digging around until he finds some suitable stationary, a writing feather (pretentious, he knows, but he can't ignore the urge to be so traditional), and an inkwell. if you were exchanging letters to express your feelings, now, then expect him to write you the best damn love letter you've ever seen.

taglist for this series: @deepseafragments // @darkflowerav // @annoying-and-upset // @katerinaval // @lurkingsnails // @chirikoheina // @all-mights-wife // @notareum

[cool-person-yey]

TMAGP 16 AND OUR FAVORITE LOCA IS BACK!!!! INK5OUL HOW HAVE I MISSED YOU

• oh fuck off

• got hello jon'ed

• * ominous music * my beloved

• anti social hmmmm. likeeee social media perhaps? it'd fit with the whole digital thing going on

• * office noises * my dearest

• Sam!

• oh tea. nice I've been missing it

• hey Celia!

• Alice!

• you alright honey ?

• wait since what ?

• yes yes the victim from the past ep right

• yeah ignoring the horrors doesn't work Alice 👍

• they're so supportive I'm <3333

• oh cmon Lena ain't that bad

• yo chester!

• SOCIAL MEDIA I FUCKING KNEW IT

• goddd the hashtags im gonna die

• INK5OUL MY DEAR!!!!

• ohhhh their voice!!!!!

• I love it so much

• good god the slang

• the way ink5oul says things in the most ominous ways

• holy shit that was like 3 seconds ????? the fuck

• not the influencer drama

• the SOUND EFFECTS 😭😭😭😭

• someone canonically said sus in tmagp I want to die

• dig

• " BRUH " FUCKING HELL

• ink5oul why tf are you robbing graves dear

• that's cool as fuck actually

• oh boy

• fuck dude

• she's touching the heart tattoo isn't she

• help?

• unposted ?

• oh fuck hospital noises

• thank god the cats are fine

• the emotion on that ' please '

• oh shit oh shit shit shit shit

• fuck fuck fuck

• yeah fuck you are Alice. you can say you're not fine sometimes yk

• oh coffee huh

• ohhhh Celia

• wait what ???

• oh come onnnn who's behind the door

• OHHHH THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTING

• this is the most emotion she's ever shown I think

• oh if someone tried to do that at an actual job they'd get fired so quick lmao

• anddd * ominous noises*

see y'all next Thursday!

[tatesdiary]

hey babe!! ur work is totally awesome!! could i please get a james march fluff? thank you smm

After dark

James Patrick March x f!reader

summary He was a cruel, cruel man to everyone - but you.

word count 433

tags mentions of violence, maybe inaccurate jpm (haven't finishes the season yet oops)

a/n thanks for the compliment <3 as stated before I actually haven't finished the season yet, so this could be a little inaccurate in terms of his character! Just a heads up. I hope what I have seen is enough to make this to your likings 🙏🏻 and yes it is quite short but I think it's good like this :)

You'd spent all day lazing around, drinking and people watching. It got more boring every day to wait until your partner would be back from whatever he was doing (half of the time you don't even want to know).

Sighing you fall back on your bed and fiddle with the tie he'd discarded upon it last night. It didn't have any special patterns, it was a simple and plain black. But you've learned to love the simple things about him - his murderous doings cast aside - which included his never wavering crisp, white dress shirts with matching pants, shoes and ties.

His hair was always slicked down, no hair out of place, and his mustache was perfectly groomed as well. Over time you'd learnt he appreciates a good exterior as much as a good glass of whiskey after a long day.

Dramatically groaning you drop the piece of cloth and sit up, supporting your weight through leaning on your hands. He'd be there in no less than twenty minutes but there was nothing you had left to do and you were bored. The TV was running on some random talk show that you'd lost interest in long ago, serving as background noise and defeating the silence lingering in this suite.

You decide to get up and pour yourself a drink instead of continuing to lounge around, the tie now in the laundry basket with some other bloodied shirts and pants.

You hum something to yourself as you watch through the window as the busy people hurry by, not one glance spared at the ominous building looming over the street.

You don't hear as the door opens and closes, his steps silenced by the carpeted floor. "What are you doing, darling?" He hums and wraps an arm around your waist, standing next to you.

There's a smile on your face as you set the drink down and wrap your arms around his neck, "Welcome back, my love."

He chuckles and lays his other arm around you too. "I have not been gone that long, have I?"

Making a thinking face you shrug, "Every second you're gone is too long." You settle on. It makes him smile and he cocks his head to the side, "Perhaps you should seek out other people to be around than just me? It will do you good," he jokes.

"I think you're enough for me. I don't need anyone else." Humming he gazes at you lovingly, his warm brown eyes showing no sign of harboring a hobby as dark as his.

"Let's end the day with a drink, my beloved."

[falkendreamsxxx]

Do you ever think about how terrible Malfoy Manor was for Draco while Voldemort lived there?

“Windows.

The windows of my family's home had once been my favorite aspect of the architecture. Despite the dark walls, Gothic moldings, and ominous faces of Malfoys long since dead...the windows had been the Manor's saving grace, letting light shine in. It had been said by many that there were more windows than wall, more glass than stone, and I'd taken pride in that. The way the sun illuminated every room made up for the eerie shadows cast by clouds on stormy days.

At least, it used to.

Now, it was darkness. Always.

Despair and dread seeped from the walls as long black curtains blocked out any trace of natural light, as was the Dark Lord's preference, of course.

If there were shadows, they could barely be seen as one walked from room to room, as if night had taken over. Not even my bedroom was safe. What was once my sanctuary was becoming a dungeon, as the blackout curtains turned my canopy bed into a cell. Gone was the beauty that came with having arguably the best view of the entire estate.

From the east wing of the fourth floor, I had once been able to see the sunrise over it all: the maze, the gardens, the pond, the orchard, the vineyard, the stables, and countless trails leading into the surrounding forest... How cocky I'd been to think I'd be able to keep such a pleasant view; how idiotic I'd been to believe I'd be able to maintain any sort of pleasantry while living with and serving the Dark Lord. This was his home now. His fortress.

Like a fool, I escaped the confines of my room, traveled through the dark halls, down the stairs, and out the back doors...desperate to find peace in the daylight. Instead, I was greeted by a sun so obstructed that it could hardly be considered day. I'd been stupid to think the horror that came with the Dark Lord's presence was restricted to the interior.

Determined to make my escapade worthwhile, I walked between the excessively tall hedges that divided each section of the estate towards the stables. Stepping through the rose garden and around the pond, I knew something was off. Something was missing. Pressing forward, I walked past the herb garden and the maze across the pasture, with a great unease building in the pit of my stomach. Upon entering the stables, I knew.

Noise, that's what was missing. Movement, there had been none. I had not seen a single creature.

Gone were the peacocks that loved to wander through the rose beds; absent were the swans from the pond, and empty were the stalls of the stable that had once been filled with thoroughbreds. I didn't need to walk to the small owlery on the west end to know that it would also be devoid of life.

My thoughts of finding refuge among the Manor's various creatures were futile, and dead were my beloved pets; murdered by the Dark Lord's hand, I had no doubt.

Withdrawing beneath my walls and burying my sorrows, I looked up across it all, finding the windows of my bedroom. I thanked Salazar for one thing.

I had not been able to see through the windows.”

Light & Dark on AO3 and FFN

[astrazenica12]

CHAPTER 1 [THE RUINS]

Dragging my tired body almost like I'm limping I groaned seeing the flights of stairs I had to climb to reach my room in the 3rd floor of a 4 story apartment building. It took about 3 minutes before I reached the front door and made my way inside in my not so empty place consisting of a computer desk, a wardrobe, and most of all my beloved water bed which cost me one month worth of my salary but never mind that.

"Finally home!..I thought I was gonna die from that brutal training. My arms and legs are practically numb ahh I can't anymore"

I plopped on my bed face first. Usually I would wash up before getting ready for bed but I can make an exception for today. I am just so exhausted that I'm barely able to move.

"That damn slave driver of a master... I swear I'll get back at that old demon for this..ahhh right I was suppose to play this nice indie game I bought but I guess I'll play it next time when I'm a bit free ugh I'm so tired and sleepy"

Extreme drowsiness invading my mind and letting me drown in the ecstasy of sleep. Everything fades to black.

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

/Somewhere in the multiverse/

"Booooom ....Kssshhhh...Drgggh.."

The sound of battle. Loud noises like explosions were occuring everywhere in the surroundings. The place where these ominous sounds were coming from left devestation in there wake. Structures big and small reduced to nothing but ashes. The smell of blood wafting throughout the area as fine grains of dust flutters in the wind, the remains of a large scale massacre. Unknown entities that shouldn't exist wreaked havoc causing mass destruction and amidst this tragedy were two monsters from the skeleton race who bore witness to it all.

"Aaaargh...Son of a bitch that fucking hurts like hell" A certain skeleton individual's scream of agony escaped their lips as they cursed. Hit by a projectile that produced a deep injury on their shoulder coming from one of the many entities roaming the place.

These two were in the middle of running away from these malignant incarnates from who knows hell they crawled out from relentless in their pursuit.

"Boss what the fuck were those things. I was just here peacefully minding my own business doing the job you gave me but out of the blue these damn things started wreaking everyone and everything in blink of an eye" said the skeleton with a busted shoulder. Clearly rattled, he faced the other individual with a panic and pained look as he pressed for an answer.

"The fuck are you asking me for you defective shit!? Snapping at the other party obviously stressed and irritated in their current predicament and was taking it out on them. He let out an annoyed groan as he added.

"Look... I haven't the faintest fucking idea of what's happening okay!!, All I know is I felt the influx of negative emotions drop by a whole lot. So I left the leisure of my glorious domain to check up on you good for nothing anomalies to see if you useless morons were slacking off and it just so happened that you were nearer than the rest so I came to you first" this malicious quip hinting a little bit of anger behind it rendered the injured skeleton unable to talk back and just gritted his teeth.

"But I was wrong. The drop wasn't just happening in this particular AU. It was happening in EVERY AU in the multiverse. To think these enigmatic creatures were the cause of it all. Anyway just keep running, I'm busting my ass securing you failed products from the AU's I designated you for back to my domain. You idiots may be God's mistake of a creation however I admit that you are precious resources I can't afford to lose.. not now in these grave crisis at least. This world is coming to an end, everything has been nearly devoured out of existence and were are only ones left here"

Smack dab in the middle of their conversation. More and more of the entities have spawned in all directions. 2 hulk sized creatures were coming from the north and blocked their route. 3 from the east and 2 from the west and 1 more from the south. There were a total of 8.

"Boss, we're surrounded" said injured skeleton whilst his eyes scanning the enemies' position.

Both of the skeleton stopped in their tracks.

"No shit genius.." the other one responded, irritation evidenced by his tone of voice.

"What are we gonna do now? These things can't be killed. I tried before"

"Ughh..I know that already you piece of sh*t. Stop talking nonsense and listen up .What I want you to do now is to buy me some time" he sat on the ground crossed legged

"Boss what are you planning to do?" sounding so concerned as he continued to observe the enemies' approaching near. His guard up.

"I've nearly exhausted a lot of negative energy teleporting the other us in my domain. I'm gathering what little energy I have left to get away from here so shut up and let me focus." the skeleton begins to meditate as he works to gather his power.

"Gotcha boss, I'll go hard and give 'em hell" the skeleton manifesting a knife in his other hand got in a stance preparing for combat.

The creatures from the north and south initiated the attack by launching numerous projectiles in the air about 50 spear like sludge coming down fast at them and the creatures from east and west lunge forward intending to ram the two and kill them in a stampede, this would be possible as the opponent's size where about 3 times their size in comparison.

'These crazy f*ckers coming at us at the same time. Fine bring it on!'

"Let's f*cking goooo you bastards!" The knife wielding skeleton yelled as he summons 5 massive Gaster Blasters forming in a circular formation 3 ft above their head and successfully blocked all the sludge spears. However the Gaster Blasters we'rent doing so hot as they began to gradually crumble. The spears were corrosive in nature it left the G-blasters in a dilapidated state, noticeable cracks on their skull body formed and at the rate of its damage for sure it won't be long until the blasters dematerialize but before it happens the knife wielder yelled another command.

He raised his arm pointing upwards.

"You motherf*ckers it's killing time!"

His face twisted into a sinister smile, the black lines coming from their eyesockets were now trickling down on their bony face from the color ever so prominent.

The G-blasters opened its mouth simultaneously instantly releasing a magical beam of light accurately hitting all 8 entities thus obliterating them.

"Huff.... Huff... Huff..."

'F*ck, that took a lot out me plus this injury just making my constitution worse and boss hasn't even moved an inch. I reckon his doing his best too. I want to ask him if he's almost finished but I know that he'll just be pissed and yell at me again and I would rather avoid that. Let's keep vigilant and stay focused'

They were not out of the woods yet and the knife wielder knows that very well. These things cannot be killed by any means. Physical attacks have little to no effect at whatsoever although magical attacks are were somewhat effective against it but it hardly eliminated the enemy and only serves to temporarily trip them on their tracks.

Sludge remnants had started to move. These things were slithering into one spot. The skeleton summoned a new blaster and fired shots at it but this time it evaded his line of fire. He continued to do so but the result was the same and the scattered sludge grew at an astonishing rate.

The skeleton began to panic as the sludge continue to grow in mass and morphed into one giant entity about as tall a 10 story building.

"Fucking hell!" They cursed at the giant sludge. The fully formed giant opened of what seemed to be it's mouth. He could feel the wind move towards the direction of the monster as said wind gradually increase in pressure. His feet was slightly dragged along the ground.

The wind grew ever stronger.The trees, buildings, the solid ground, the very existence surroundings itself was being gradually sucked away into its large mouth. Realising this, the skeleton squeezed out all of his remaining power and summoned 500 Gaster blasters all aimed at the creature. At his command, an array of laser beams were shot but it was no use. The recovery rate of the sludge creature was high enough that after being hit by a wave of beams it almost instantly filled the holes it left like it was never shot in the first place and it still continued to absorb everything unimpeded.

"S-sorry b-boss! That w-was everything i-i h-had" He falls to ground unconscious

"You did well for a piece of shit. Now let's get the hell out of here"

Luckily, the other skeleton had finished with his preparation and picked up the skeleton lying on the ground with a black tentacle that sprouted from his back. More tentacles appeared and encircled the two into an orb of black. The giant noticed this and hurled hundred of destructive orbs made from sludge but by the time it hit their position they were already gone. The creature let out an undecipherable screech it almost sounded like it was infuriated at their escape.

That was the end of one world. Wiped from existence. Devoured by the void.

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

Nightmares' Domain

"Guess that's the end of it huh, it was such a shame since that was one of the alternate universe's I liked but now I can no longer go back there anymore" He mumbles, his knees on the ground exhausted as he was. He proceeds to sit on the floor with a laid back expression.

The skeleton with pitch black tentacles on his back slightly lifted his chin up, he smirks upon seeing 5 other figures stood before him showing such menacing looks like that of a villain.

"At least I still have you idiots with me" he softly laughs momentarily feeling a little relief from all messed up things that's befall on them. Like a literal nightmare, the terror hangs over their heads. The day of Reckoning draws near, The destruction of the multiverse inevitable, However

"Hey! I have another job for you guys. I want you to find ••••,•••• and ••••. Tell them to come to the place where the yellow sky touches the sea, they'll know what it means" proceeding to cut 4 of his tentacles and gives each one to the other skeletons he added

"Take it, your dumb ass will need it to jump through numerous AU's to find who I set you out to look for and if i so much find out that whoever loses it.. Consider your lives forfeit" The tentacles reshapes and wrapped itself in the right arm of the individuals similar to that of a fancy bracelet.

The skeletons looked at each other before breaking out develish smiles across their faces as one of the skeletons spoke.

"Well boys. Ya'll heard the boss. Time to get to work"

And with that said, one by one they vanished into darkness presumably now scattered all across the multiverse.

CTTO [Art not mine]

[theonepunkasshole]

Jennika vs Theodore Part 2

The two combatants waited for Big Mama’s cue, one hot with battle-lust and the other cold with anticipation. Their heads perked up at the sound of Big Mama’s voice booming outside the doors.

“Welcome ladies, gentlemen, and all Yokai alike, to the Battle Nexus! I sincerely hope that you have enjoyed our fights so far. If not, then I’ll have to feed you to my champion.” She paused for a moment to give a jovial laugh, “I’m just kidding…sort of. Anywho, I have a special event scheduled for you tonight! Two very capable warriors having a little tussle-lump in my arena for your enjoyment.”

Theodore wondered for a moment if it would hurt Jennika that her mom was treating this as just another fight. On the other hand, Jennika most likely didn’t want the entire stadium to know about her emotional struggles right now. So, he concluded that treating this as a normal battle was best for Jenny. He didn’t have time to deliberate too much on it as Big Mama continued on with her introduction.

“Our challenger for the evening is still fresh to the Battle Nexus,” she began her announcement with a sort of hushed excited voice, and she steadily built it with each sentence. “He has only made a few appearances so far, but each one has left us all–myself included–breathless with his quick reflexes, amazing improv, and awesome brutality. Please, my gracious audience, make some noise and energy for the amateur contender: Cain!”

The audience’s cheers rushed Theodore’s ears as the doors opened dramatically. “Cain” was the project name given to him when he was created, it was an allusion to the first murderer in the christian texts. So, Theodore thought it was a fitting champion name for the Battle Nexus. It also helped separate the person he was supposed to be from the person he wanted to be. As he stepped through the entrance, he was greeted with thousands of yokai, all shouting and applauding for him. 

He would be lying if he said the attention didn’t make him feel good. As much as he wanted to resist the energy of the crowd, he wasn’t here to entertain them, he couldn’t help but give a gentle wave. He did, however, give a playful wink to a cute lizard yokai. To which they immediately responded by turning a scarlet red and nearly melting over the railing; luckily, they were caught by their two friends standing beside them. They both laughed and gave a thumbs up to Theo, which made him chuckle sheepishly.

As soon as the spectators quieted down to a degree, Big Mama’s voice erupted again but in a more teasing tone, “Yes, yes, we are all ecstatic to see you return; however, I do hope you take no offense when I tell you this: I’m still rooting for my favorite.” Theo rolled his eyes in amusement, enjoying her love for the theatrics, but the massive crowd all began to whisper amongst each other about the Battle Nexus owner’s ominous statement.

She laughed wildly, “Yes, that’s right, my scrumptastic viewers! Our courageous contender has decided to test his skills and challenge the one woman army herself! He has abandoned all self preservation in favor of a thrilling show, featuring the clawed-boxing machine you all know and adore! The aspiring champion did the unthinkable, and pulled a beloved seasoned pro out from retirement for a one night show only! Please, my faithful blood-lustful spoogily wumps, give a warm yet loud welcome back to your Battle Nexus champion–and my lovely daughter–JENNIKA!” 

With each invigorating statement, the crowd grew in intensity to the point where Theo would have been concerned about the walls crashing down–if he didn’t know better. His head was on a swivel, identifying every piece of sensory information possible, and was concerned that this fight was becoming something much bigger than he wanted it to be. Son of a bitch, all he wanted to do was get Jennika into an environment/state of mind where she could really unleash on him without hurting anyone else. In his haste, he had forgotten that, at the heart of it, the Battle Nexus was a business first. A performance of fighters hashing it out. Agitated, Theodore snapped his head to glare at Big Mama–who was on her spectator platform–and was met with a chilling sight. Her face displayed her normal charming bravado with a confident grin to top it off, but her eyes revealed her true emotions:

Uncertainty

Sheena stood next to her, except she wasn’t hiding just how anxious she was. Yet, his instincts told him that they weren’t scared about her losing. Big Mama knew that Theo wasn’t planning on winning and Sheena hadn’t seen him fight enough to instill any doubts in Jennika’s abilities. No, they were afraid of what this fight would do to Jenny mentally and emotionally. So, Theo thought to himself, that means it’s up to me to make sure she comes out of this alright. It also meant that, despite her habit of being an entertainer, Big Mama still cared about her daughter. He turned back towards Jenny’s door to see she had already started walking out–damn, she was taller than he remembered. 

…He couldn’t quite place it, but she seemed off. Like, everything that had been bothering was just bubbling beneath the surface. As if just a single flick in the right place would set her off. He could see it in her eyes, even through her yellow bandana. He wanted to understand her more, not give her a mental breakdown.

He looked up towards Big Mama, “Hey! I don’t think this is a good idea anymore. I think we should–”

“Fight!”

Jenny launched herself at Theo and closed the distance within a second. Theo had only just turned back to her when he received a flying punch straight to his jaw. The force was strong enough to send him rolling across the dusty arena floor. The crowd uproared in a mixture of excited cheers and sympathetic groans. Theo didn’t stay down for long, once his momentum eased up, he seamlessly returned to his feet and brought his fists up in a guard.

Jennika didn’t waste time. She was back on him the moment he recovered, and unleashed numerous blows to his arms and stomach. She uses a lot of arm attacks, he thought, but he was then promptly corrected when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down to knee him in the chest. He shot back up from her knee which opened his neck up for her to grab. She grasped his neck firmly, spun him around once to build inertia, and chucked him back across the other side of the arena. He skidded face down across the dirt, his head pounding with ache. Theo couldn’t tell what was louder, the cheering of the crowd or the heartbeat in his ears.

Big Mama’s voice erupted again, “Looks like we’re getting a more aggressive side of my little fiddle-wumps tonight!”

No shit.

He pushed himself off the ground enough to spit some dirt out of his mouth. His eyes widened as a shadow formed over him, and it was rapidly expanding. Theo rolled to the side just in time to avoid Jenny trying to crush him with her shell. They both got back on their feet, and she dashed towards him with a furious growl. She landed a solid jab to his stomach and resumed her merciless assault on his guard.

“I thought you wanted to fight!” she roared in his face. She then backed up slightly to make room to throw a kick to the side of his head. Luckily, his arms helped mitigate the damage to his skull, but the power still sent him tumbling back to the ground. She didn’t give him any time to think as she reached down and yanked on his leg and pulled him in close. She clasped both hands around his throat again and Theo got a decent look into her eyes.

He swore to god he could see actual flames in her eyes. 

He looked a bit harder…was it guilt?

She erased any train of thought he had by pulling him up and slamming him against the wall of the arena. Audience members above eagerly gripped onto the bar and gazed down excitedly at the two brawlers. Theo could make out some of the comments they were saying.

“C’mon, I got quite a bit of money riding on this!”

Don’t care.

“That’s right, cave his fucking face in!”

Please don’t.

“Don’t let her pin ya!”

Trying.

“Kick him in the dick!”

Don’t have that.

“I can’t believe she’s this close, she’s even hotter than I thought!”

Theodore stared at Jenny, who had both of her hands enveloped around his neck and was slightly bent down to glare intimidatingly into his eyes. His eyes looked down at the hands that grasped his neck and slowly scanned her flexed biceps and broad shoulders. He finished his gaze up at the face of violence incarnate scowling at him…and he felt a tingle snake down his spine. 

Damn it, they’re right.

“I thought you wanted to see my anger,” she snarled fiercely, it was less of a question and more of a jab. “What’s the matter? You talked a big game earlier, now you’re quieter than a guilty politician.”

Ow, that hurt. He grinned cheekily, “I have to ask: is Sheena into this rough play as well, or is it just me?” Jenny doesn’t respond, but Theo felt her heartbeat quicken slightly and saw her face blush subtly. His smile grew, “Oh, no fucking waAAY-”

Jenny, once again, threw him across the arena like he was a ragdoll and screamed at him, “You think this is some kind of fucking joke, right?” He regained his footing just to be met with another bruising blow in the chest. 

“Well, it’s not!”

Another punch to the ribs.

“This is fucking real and no one fucking cares!”

Another shot to his shoulder.

“No one understands how much I try!”

Her right hook forced him to look towards the viewing platform. He had noticed Big Mama’s reduction in commentating, but now he could tell from her cracking composure that she was becoming more uncertain by the minute. Meanwhile, Sheena was full on sobbing at Jennika’s pain. She clearly hated watching her wife be in so much misery. This isn’t what I wanted! I should stop the fi–Theodore was sent rolling backwards by a kick to his gut.

“But that’s ok, because it’s never good enough anyways.”

Theo slowly stood back up to see Jenny’s furious, tearful face, “Jen, wait, let’s stop.” That tripped something in her brain and she screamed so loud her voice cracked

“IT CERTAINLY WASN’T GOOD ENOUGH FOR HER!”

The audience began to go quiet as Jenny ripped the bandana off her face, “I was completely fucking useless. She died and I couldn’t do anything.” She dropped to her knees and began breathing heavily. Theo could only watch. “She was my only friend in that fucking shit hole. She always had my back and I let her down when she needed me the most. I…can’t do that again.” Theo heard sobs coming from the platform. Sheena was hysterical and Big Mama did her best to control herself while comforting the metal vocalist. He saw her open her mouth and he quickly put his hand up to silence her. 

Hold on, is what his gesture meant, which seemed to work as she closed it again. Another heartbreaking sob rattled Jenny’s body, “You don’t understand, I can’t fucking do that again! If someone dies because I wasn’t good enough again, I will never be the same again!” She clenched her fists and bashed them against her skull, which made Theo flinch. “And I fucking despise that I can only talk to you like this when I’m beating you into the god damn dirt! I don’t want to be the angry sister, but I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

I’m not alone, was all Theodore thought, as he lowered his hands to his sides and tears pricked the corners of his eyes, This is the guilt I saw in her. The same kind I feel. Jenny’s self loathing monologue sparked memories of his mother. How many nights had he spent wondering what he did wrong? How many different ways did he calculate his fault? Just how much did he hate himself for being so fucking useless? After years of being alone, he finally felt like he met someone who knew his pain. The pain of being so close to someone and having them slip right through your fingers. Theo felt the coldness of isolation melt away by Jenny’s burning rage. He clenched his fists, and made a promise right then and there.

I won’t leave you behind.

“So, fuck it! I’ll be the angry bitch! But you asked for it, and I won’t stop until one of us can’t FUCKING MOVE!” She leaped forward, fist ready to strike his face.

Theo stepped aside, only inches away from her fist, and let her zip right past him. The crowd gasped in shock at his sudden shift in behavior. She landed on her feet and spun around to face him. Even in her anger, she couldn’t hide the confusion from her face. Theo smirked as he removed his dirt covered, sweat stained tank top (which earned some whistles from the crowd), and tossed it to the ground. His slightly scarred body, mostly his surgery scars, were on full display for the stadium.

“I’m not hiding anymore,” he explained to Jen, “I wanted to understand you, and now I do–”

“You don’t know shit!” Jenny hissed venomously.

Theo ignored her warning, “Now that I got what I wanted, I’ll leave this choice to you: I’ll walk away right now and throw the fight, or–”

“You already know my answer,” she interrupted, cracking her neck for added effect.

God, that’s hot but bitch needs to stop interrupting me. He shrugged and made a ‘come and get it’ gesture with his hand. She charged at him and started with a right hook. He effortlessly ducked underneath and threw three quick jabs into her side, right between her shell and plastron. She grunted with pain and stumbled back, but then flew back when he kicked her square in the chest. She had an inkling that he would have yelled, ‘THIS IS SPARTA!’ if he wasn’t so focused.

She rubbed her chest with a smirk, “Finally fighting?” she wheezed.

The rest of the fight was way more entertaining for the audience, with the two highly skilled warriors taking turns blocking attacks, landing blows, and performing impressive maneuvers. There was one moment where their fists collided and they both took a step back and shook out their hands. Jenny was fine, her large hands and thick fingers able to take the hit. The various gasps and groans from the audience drew Jennika’s attention to Theodore, who’s left pinky and ring finger were bent outwards horrifically. Big Mama and Sheena could see Jenny’s face pale (At least pale as much as a mutant turtle could) and watched her step forward to help him.

He stopped her movement by gripping the two fingers and snapping them back into place. This made everyone cringe in disgust (well, not everyone, some enjoyed his nonchalant gruesome behavior). He wiggled his fingers to test his mobility. Satisfied, he turned back to Jennika and brought up his fists again.

He noticed Jennika’s shocked face, “I told you I could take your anger,” he said confidently.

Jennika didn’t stop staring, she glossed over his body and noticed the light bruises on his body along with the small amount of blood dripping from his nose. She glanced down at her own hands and eyed the splotches of red and the faint hints of dark green indicating bruising. But she didn’t care about her own bruised knuckles. She was only concerned about the blood, his blood, the blood of her friend.

Theodore recognized that look and knew what it meant: I did this.

The rest was a blur, he only recalled some of it. He remembered watching her fall to her knees and wail in despair; he remembered sliding onto his knees and hugging her tightly, despite her weak attempts to shove him away; he remembered appreciating the audience members calling to stop the fight; he remembered pinpointing the ones booing the interaction, making sure to find them later. He also vaguely remembered Sheena and Big Mama rushing over to them as well.

But most importantly, he remembered sobbing as well, mumbling to his friend, “It’s ok, it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault.”

[redorich]

for the hermit canyon, i humbly request:

Etho messing with Karl and maybe like, Lazarbeam or Fundy, by pretending he’s moth man.

Quackity stalks through the woods, blissfully unaware of its other inhabitants-- not that he would care, if he knew. No, tonight, under the full moon (because it's romantic) he makes his move.

The Hermit, as Quackity is completely sure of, is a beautiful young woman with long flowing hair as white as snow. Because she is a creature of untold power and beauty, fairy tale logic obviously applies. Therefore, if Quackity can steal her clothes, she will have no choice but to marry him and they will live happily ever after as big booty bitches in love.

Nodding to himself, Quackity feels assured in his logic. He's wearing his favorite assless chaps, his best pair of knockoff Yeezys, and no shirt. He is ready for what is to come.

---

Karl lurks deep in the forest, illuminated only by the moon. He leans against a tree, taking care not to disturb his outfit-- he is camouflaged as a bush. Dangling strips of green and brown fabric cover his body, and his limbs are completely hidden in the costume so long as he stands still. It's a daunting task, standing still in the dark, dangerous woods at night. Nevertheless, Karl knows that this is what he must do.

"Triclops Mothman, my beloved," he whispers into the night. He will find Mothman, and he will marry Mothman. There is no alternative.

---

Far away from both Karl and Quackity, though still in the same spruce forest, Sapnap angrily prowls. Well, he'd describe it as a prowl. Truthfully, it's more of a pouty stomp. He knows that this forest has had multiple "Hermit sightings", and Sapnap wants-- no, needs what he's after.

"Hermit!" he screams into the night. "Come out and fight me, you little bitch! Man on man!"

To emphasize his point, he bangs a pot and a pan against each other several times. Sapnap is getting his revenge for that little ravager prank, one way or another.

---

Deep within the canyon walls, the Hermit complex looks like an overturned anthill with all its activity. It's Halloween night come early.

"I'm not wearing a dress," Etho insists.

Grian whines, "But Etho, I made it just for you! It matches Stress's outfit."

Stress, upon hearing her name, looks up from her book and waves. Cleo is currently fiddling with the thick mane of synthetic white hair Stress is wearing, styling the wig into a princess-y type braid.

"I'll say it again," Cleo says, looking very intently into Etho's eyes, "I could take your place."

"No," Etho sighs. "If what Puffy said about these guys is true, you'd probably bite someone's face off by the end of the night."

"You're no fun," Cleo huffs, but acquiesces.

"At least put on the wig," Grian demands.

Grian and Etho have a staring contest for a solid ninety seconds before Etho snaps his fingers in front of Grian's face, causing him to flinch and blink. "You cheater--!"

"I'll wear the wig," Etho interrupts Grian. Instantaneously, Grian loses his outraged moue.

Cleo sighs. "They're the same wig, right? Do I have to braid Etho's hair, too?"

"I think I'll be fine with my new flowing, luscious locks," Etho says with a humorous crinkle to his eyes.

They all laugh as Etho dramatically flips his fake hair, whipping himself in the face with it in the process. He also receives a thumbs up from Joe, who is in the process of searching for his contact lenses because "Herobrine doesn't wear glasses", according to Bdubs.

Night falls, and the Hermits are prepared. They hope their victims aren't.

---

Quackity catches a glimpse of silver-white after so long searching in the woods. With a little gasp, he eagerly pursues it. His beautiful maiden, ethereal and distant like the moon, darts between trees and leaps across creeks like she is flying, like her feet barely touch the ground.

He follows her to a clearing, but when he bursts through the brush into the open space, she is nowhere to be found.

“Mi rey!” he wails, “Fantasma hermosa! Come to papi!”

Etho, hiding in a tree about five feet away, has no clue what any of those words mean. He affects a terrible falsetto and throws his voice. “Hello, Quackity.”

Quackity jumps, looking around wildly for his beautiful girlboss queen. “Hermit?! You know my name?”

“Of course, Quackity,” Etho says, hefting a large rock in his hand. “Come closer, I have a cask of Amontillado we can share.”

Quackity turns toward Etho's voice just fast enough to catch a glimpse of the Hermit's mask, his (fake) long white hair, his decidedly not female appearance. Quackity looks the Hermit up and down. Etho has never felt more Perceived.

"What's a place like you doing in a guy like this?" Quackity says, flirtatiousness dripping from his voice.

Etho eyes the man's assless chaps with distaste from his crouched perch in a tree. Quick as lightning, he chucks the heavy rock in his hand at Quackity's head, knocking him out instantly.

Etho jumps down from his tree with a huffed sigh. "Well," he says, grabbing Quackity by the ankle and dragging him, "time to get to work."

---

"Pspspsps," Karl whispers, "heeeere Mothman..."

The sound of a twig snapping to his right makes Karl freeze, then turn ever so slowly. There's no one there. Karl holds his breath for what feels like an eternity, but is eventually forced to admit that the noise was probably just an animal. Surely, a creature of Mothman's size would make more noise when he walks, given the weight of his strong legs.

"Mothman," Karl says. "I wrote you a poem!"

Joe, who was up until this point hiding behind trees and ominously snapping twigs, feels a twinge of morbid curiosity. As a poet, he absolutely has to know what Karl considers an adequate love poem for Mothman.

With red cheeks, Karl professes his love:

"Your feelers make me feel so sweet

Your hindwings set my heart aflame

Fern-like antennae make me melt

And Mothman, you're to blame."

Despite himself, Joe is a little bit impressed. It almost makes him feel bad about what he's about to do-- almost.

A soft eerie glow seeps into the forest, catching Karl's eye. He investigates, creeping forward until he turns around a tree and sees glowing white eyes. He screams, but there is no sound, and the forest has disappeared. Only those eyes remain, and they too flicker out of existence.

There is a dim corridor ahead of him, narrow and lit by redstone torches. At the end, there is an iron door. He runs to the exit, but as soon as his hand touches the door it disappears and he is engulfed by swirling purple-- like a Nether portal, but so much more terrifying.

The purple is gone and he can just barely make out the menacing image of a man with glowing white eyes T-posing in the blackness. Karl opens his eyes and wakes up on the forest floor, prone and sore.

"Right," he mutters breathlessly to himself, "Mothman is not interested."

---

"--YOU BITCH ASS PUNK, I'M GONNA RIP YOUR LEGS OFF AND STICK 'EM ON YOUR HEAD!" Sapnap screams, banging the only pot he owns against a non-stick frying pan he stole from George.

"Well, that's not very nice, innit?" says a feminine voice. Sapnap looks left, right, behind him, up in the trees... then down.

Big brown eyes peer up at him through white bangs. A displeased pout set into a moon-pale face attached to an equally moon-pale woman chastises him without words.

"...You're the Hermit?" Sapnap says disbelievingly. He has his doubts that someone as small and pretty as this woman could wrangle a ravager onto his front lawn.

"You wanted a fight," she huffs. "And for the record, you totally had it coming, with Pamela's Revenge-- remember, the rava--"

"Yes, I know the ravager was named Pamela's Revenge! There were like eight hundred million death messages in chat about it, you jackass!" Sapnap snaps, trying to cover up his unease. It's not that he's hesitant to hit her because she's a girl; he would deck the shit out of Niki or Puffy with absolutely no provocation whatsoever. It's just that... she looks soft. Like a non-combatant. It would be too easy, too cruel--

Stress punches Sapnap in the jaw with a wicked right hook. "Stealing is wrong," she says.

While Sapnap is dazed and quite possibly mildly concussed, Stress follows up with a brutal kick to the shin. Sapnap makes a genuine effort to fight back, and he’s no slouch, but he’s been taken so thoroughly off guard that the best he can do with his head spinning as it is is to swing with a wild haymaker and hope it hits.

His fist makes contact with something soft and squishy. He hears a grunt, but Stress shoves him over onto the ground and dumps a bucket of glitter over his head. It burns his eyes, but more importantly it burns his pride. He doesn’t remember at what point he dropped his pot and pan (he must have at some point, because he punched the Hermit with an empty fist), but he’s angry enough to open his watery eyes through the magenta glitter and snatch George’s frying pan up off the forest floor, hurling it at the Hermit with devastating accuracy. She yelps, blocking with her forearm at the last moment.

“Knew I shoulda let Etho...” Sapnap hears the Hermit mutter. What’s an Etho?

Stress irritably bonks Sapnap on the head with the pan he threw at her. He goes limp like a ragdoll, and Stress sets about maneuvering his body into a sitting position leaned against a tree so she can do his makeup while he sleeps.

“Hope I don’t poke his eye out!” she says. “Ah well, he’s got two anyway. Now, should I go for a cute, summery look, or a dark evening look?”

---

In Atrium 1 of the Hermit Canyon complex, Puffy laughs loud and clear, clutching her paper cup tightly so she doesn’t spill her fruit punch. "No,” she chokes out, “he didn’t.”

Cub, holding a similar paper cup, waves his hand in a vague gesture. “Yep. That’s Etho for you. You know, one time he got Doc to run around with a snowman head on, eating spider eyes?”

“Oh man,” Puffy sighs, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of her eye. “I’m so glad I snitched on Karl, Quackity, and Sapnap. I can’t wait to see their reactions!”

Cub grins evilly. “Stress got pictures before she left.”

Puffy gasps, stars in her eyes. “I’ll bake you a whole cake if you get me a copy.”

“I’ll bake Cub a whole cake if he gives them to me instead,” Grian interjects from across the room. “I don’t need them, I just want to take them from you.”

“Nooooo!” Puffy wails melodramatically. “Grian, please spare me!”

“Five diamond blocks,” Grian makes his demand.

Puffy continues to fake-sob, pretending not to notice Scar sneaking up on Grian until Scar drops an anvil on Grian’s head, like a Looney Tunes episode but slightly to the left. While Grian is distracted, Cub slips the pictures to Puffy, who puts them in her inventory without looking.

Etho walks into the Atrium, now dressed as his normal self, including his natural hair, which looks like an angry wet cat perched atop his head, just the way he likes it. Everyone cheers.

“So, how’d it go with Quackity?” Puffy asks with a smirk.

“Well...” Etho says.

---

Quackity wakes up with the sun in his eyes. In front of him is the public Nether portal, and standing right in front of it is a wide-eyed Sam, staring directly at him. Quackity looks down.

He’s naked, covered in half-dried honey, and tied to a pole like the world’s sexiest flag. And he’s got the world’s worst hangover-- it feels like he’s been hit in the head with a large rock.

“Not again,” he groans.

“...This happens often?” Sam asks.

“If I had a nickel for every time something like this has happened,” Quackity says, wiggling his way out of the ropes tying him to the pole, “I’d have enough money to go buy myself a pair of pants.”

Sam averts his eyes to the sky, abruptly aware of exactly why Quackity would feel the need to buy a pair of pants.

“Damn it,” Quackity says. “Those were my favorite pair of assless chaps.”

“Were they now,” Sam says numbly. The sky is quite blue today, it’s rather beautiful.

Quackity huffs in aggravation, finally having freed himself from his binds. “Yeah, they just don’t make ‘em like they used to, you know?”

“Not really, no,” Sam says slowly. “I wouldn’t know much about-- assless chaps.”

The naked man shrugs. Haltingly, Sam unclasps his cape, pulling it off his shoulders and offering it to Quackity.

“Nah,” Quackity says, “I’ll just streak.”

“Please don’t,” Sam says with pain in his eyes.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry XIV

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), violence, thoughts of self-harm and suicide, depression, some triggers might not be fully tagged.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: It’s the final day of the tournament and all are holding their breath to see who prevails.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The arena was buoyant on the final day of the tournament. The most awaited event, the joust, was finally come. As Lord Barnes would once more be among the competitors, you were left on your own in the box with the rest of the ladies and their queen. Most of the noblemen were listed for the sport, Barnes, Rogers, Stark, and even the king.

You didn’t watch as the names were announced and the banners presented before the games commenced. Your attention wasn’t even drawn as the first clashed with their blunted staffs and galloping horses. It was much more perilous than the other contests.

You stayed away from the other women. You were not interested in humouring the queen’s false kindness nor were you interested in their chatter of things that hardly mattered to you. Sewing, birthing, loving; you didn’t care for any of it. You didn’t care for them or the men on the field. You cared for nothing in this bleak world.

As Barnes took to the saddle for his first opponent, you glanced down lazily but found your eyes drawn to clouds instead. It was bitterly cold under the grey sky, streaked with umbrous and ominous wisps. It would likely snow soon as if to mark the grand finale.

You tucked your hands into your sleeves and hugged yourself alone on the bench. You were drawn from your glowering by the rustle of skirts. The queen sat beside you and let out an airy sigh.

“Thankfully, my brother has kept clear of conflict,” she said, “in fact, he’s hardly spared another snarl for the visiting Baron.”

“Your majesty,” you muttered as the flag was waved and the horses barrelled at each other and the men pointed their long poles.

“Unless you count this,” she mused as his pole broke off the armour of the other men and sent his adversary sprawling and the other horse whinnying in a panic. You lowered your eyes meekly. “He will be eager to be away and I do hope you aid him in a speedy departure. The baron is expected to remain in the capital for the winter.”

“Yes, he is want to be gone back to the castle,” you assured her.

“It would be tragic if you were to be snowed in here. Very inconvenient and costly at that.”

“Certainly, your majesty,” you said flatly.

“You understand the urgency that will follow in the coming days,” she intoned.

“I understand but you do seem to misunderstand your brother. To think that I have any hold over him is farcical. He does as he pleases. He is a duke, I am a displaced chambermaid. That is all it is… your majesty.”

“You do not speak as a chambermaid,” she replied sharply, “my brother favours you but he still cannot overrule me, understood?”

“Your majesty, I understand my place completely,” you ceded, “would I be remiss to excuse myself?”

“For what means?”

“To find a commode,” you answered, “these game do carry on and I am distracted by my humanly needs.”

“Go off then,” she stood, “you are rather dour today. You would cast a mood over us all if you languish thus.”

“Your majesty,” you rose and made your way to the doors as she rejoined her ladies and gave a forced giggle as they welcomed her. You wondered how the nobles were trained so well in lies. Was it in their books or did their tutors include it in their curricula?

You descended the stairs without aim. You had no need of the commode, only an excuse. You stepped out into the lower stands and peered out at the field. In that moment, you could be gone. You could disappear and be away from all this misery.

You scoffed at yourself and leaned against the wooden planks. He’d find you again. You couldn’t make it far enough before he sniffed you out again. You weren’t stupid enough to try it twice, even at such an opportune moment. You would only earn yourself further punishment.

“Is something amusing, my lady?” you stood straight and looked startled to the man who emerged from the shadows of the stairway. Lord Zemo smirked and came to stand arm to arm with you as he looked out across the stadium.

“My lord, I was only watching the field,” you lied, “thinking.”

“Ah, yes, these games, how violent,” he remarked, “where I am from, we have festivals before tournaments. Singing, dancing, poetry, theatre… I suppose that is just as silly as all this.”

“It is… a privilege to be able to afford silliness,” you said, “to not be the one cleaning up after all of it and yet… so very pointless.”

He nodded and grumbled as he considered your words, “very true. Wise, even. I think that after one has seen how grave things can be, these affairs become less and less entertaining. It is almost sickening to think of them, let alone attend them. Why should men play at war as if it were fun?”

You peeked over at him. He was here because he once fought those men down on the field with real steel and armour. It was rather grim to think of. “I did not think of it like that but I suppose you are right. I know little of war, however, my lord.”

“You know of pain, though,” he said, “it is painted on you as much as those battle scars carried by veterans like your beloved Barnes.”

You were silent. You stared up at the sky again, the endless grey, the half-finished canvas.

“Beloved? Perhaps that is the wrong word for him. I see little affection there. I sense it is not an arrangement you asked for.”

“Does it matter if it is?” you shook your head, “My lord, you waste your breath on little more than a servant. I suffer Lord Barnes the same as any, I am no help to you.”

“Help? I have no desire to change my standing with Barnes, I am not so foolish as that,” he turned to face you, “Have none ever taken interest in you as your own being?”

“I am a servant. I am not my own being,” you murmured, “my lord, if you would, I should return to my party.”

“As you will,” he said dolefully, “it was a pleasure to meet again.”

“Was it?” you asked as you turned to go.

“It is always a relief to speak of anything but politics or gold,” he said, “and yes, you served me well in this conversation. As you said, that is all you are worth.”

You left him but didn’t ascend back to the box. You continued down the steps until you reached the final landing. You looked up and sat on the lowest stair. A moment of peace before you had to go back. To not think for a single second.

🏰

You listened to the raucous voices of the audience. You didn’t want to move from that spot. You didn’t want to go back to it all. You just wanted to stay on that step forever. But you knew you had to go. You knew you had to get up.

You lifted yourself wearily but your foot only hovered above the bottom stair. You heard more voices, and an angry one as the crowd bang and buzzed. You followed the lower sounds, the singular conversations yelled through the din. You ventured down the tunnel that led beneath the stands.

Horse kicked and snorted as you came into the area meant for competitors. Men sat and stood with blood on brow and lip. Those who’d already lost, many as the final face-off was about to commence. You looked around but did not see Lord Barnes. Perhaps he was on the other side or even looking for you.

You walked the perimeter of the large space and a familiar face caught your eye. Peter rubbed his shoulder as he muttered, his aunt and uncle sat with him as the former checked the cut on his chin. You felt the same stabbing in your chest as the night before. Before you could think, you were marching towards him.

You skidded to a halt before him and gulped. You didn’t know what to say, you only knew how you felt. He looked over at you as May and Benjamin followed his gaze. You wavered and blinked away the tears that threatened.

“I did want to be friends but I stayed away to protect you, Peter,” you said, “did you have to be so cruel?”

“What? I--” he stood and winced as he jarred his shoulder, “I didn’t-- I wasn’t--”

“I know what I am and I know we cannot be friends but could it have hurt to let me think ‘what if’?” You quivered.

“No, my lady, I--”

“You know I’m not a lady. No need to treat me like one now. I heard you last night. I didn’t come to change your mind, I’m not so simple as that. I only came-- well, I don’t know why, but perhaps I only wanted to say to one person how they hurt me. Perhaps I wanted to just once be able to speak my part and that I can do because I know I will never see you again.”

You brushed past him and he reached for your arm as he stammered, “please, don’t, I was l--”

“Don’t,” you shrugged him off and stomped on as the figures around you blurred and the anger and despair swelled in your head.

You followed the noise of the crowd. They were hungry for blood. If that was what they wanted, they would have it. 

You pushed out from behind the curtain and the wood and dirt vibrated from the cacophony. You saw Lord Barnes in his saddle as he was handed his pole and his competitor, Lord Rogers, as he took his own. Their attendants checked the horse and took them to their marks.

You quaked as the ocean of voice rolled over you and you crept out along the wall. All were entranced by the two dukes as they readied for their signal. Barnes silver armour was dented and dinged from his former bouts and Rogers golden armour was just as scuffed. The two men steadied their steeds and the crowd fell into a hush of anticipation.

The red cloth dropped and the riders galloped at each other across the field. The hooves dusted up the cold dirt, through blood stains left throughout the day, and the crash that came sent up another cheer through the crowd. 

Wooden slivers exploded around Barnes and Rogers was pushed back against his horse as his own shield was deflected. Both men kept astride and righted themselves as they rode back to their posts and again, their liveried attendants approached to calm their horses and fix their dressings.

They would go again and again, until one of them was tossed from their saddle or worse. You began to breathe heavily as you paced along the wall and the lords were handed new shields. You readied and watched the man in gray lift the rag. You began to run before it was even visible to the crowd.

You heard the horses barreling at each other as you did the same. You closed your eyes as you got closer to the lanes and you tossed back your arms as you threw yourself forward. A heavy and hard force hit you and several crushing blows landed across your body as the horse trampled over you and overturned.

You croaked as you were left in the dirt. The eerie silence that followed was void of the bouncing excitement. It was broken only by the screaming of the injured horse and the confused voices of those on the field. You heard that familiar deep groan, of pain, not delight this time.

You rasped and gasped as your chest ached and your bones throbbed. Your limbs were filled with sand and your head pounding. There were shadows all around you as you wheezed and you smiled as you tasted blood on your tongue. You began to laugh as your eyelids drooped and blacked out the arena.

“Don’t move her!” A voice called as someone touched your arm. It was broken, you were sure of it. It didn’t matter, they couldn’t fix you. Not your arm, none of it.

You laughed louder and louder as you heard more footsteps. It was all so funny. You were free! Your eyes rolled back and your mind flickered. Just before the flame gave its last lick, you heard his voice. The gravity of it gave you peace.

“Is she alive? Is she alive!? Help her! Help her!”

Lord Barnes could demand as he did for all he had but in this, he could not be mollified.

[vash-the-trans-catboy]

The Beauty of Storms

Written for @lost-in-thought-20

Summary: Janus hates storms, Logan loves them. Logan shows Janus the beauty behind them when Janus is having a tough day.

Notes: Based on the prompt ‘late night storms with loceit’. So hear is some very self indulgent teenage fluff

Taglist: @sanderdarksides @moons-the-nightmare @heirm @lost-in-thought-20 @1stressedanddepressed @xoaningout @lily-janus @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @thebittybonesaddict @just-a-little-anxious @parksthefrog @randomacnhfan (Ask if you want to be added)

Ao3

Word count: 1468

TWs: implied/referenced homophobia

The pitch-black sky brightens as the lightning strikes. Storms are everything I hate; loud noises, bright lights, and the ominous feeling of drowning from the rain.

Of course, it’s just my luck to get stuck outside in the middle of a storm. I check my watch, 10 pm. Great, it’s too late for any store to be open to find shelter in. I wander around the town until I find somewhere familiar to escape the rain.

I’m surprised no one asked ‘Hey, Janus! Why are you out at night in the rain? Shouldn’t you go home?’ The answer to that question is my parents are dicks to gay people, which is me, so I left. Thinking back, it might have been a good idea to check the weather before storming out of my house. Oh, well. Too late for that now.

Maybe I’ll get struck by lightning or die from hypothermia. The lights of my small town blur together. Astigmatisms in the rain are not fun. That’s what I get for running out of the house without my contacts or even my spare glasses.

I list all the places I could go to tonight. Roman and Remus live all the way on the other side of town, at least another 30-minute walk. So that’s not ideal. Definitely not Patton’s house, his extreme kindness is unsettling. That leaves either Virgil or Logan. Both seem like a pleasant place to go, but what would their parents say to a random-ass teenager showing up to their door late at night soaking wet. Maybe I’ll just find a tree to wait out the storm under. Then I’ll fucking die great, trees always get struck by lightning.

I start walking again in a random direction. Honestly, at this point, I hope a kidnapper van pulls up then I will least be protected from the rain. Mindlessly I walk until I’m in front of a familiar house, Logan’s house. No cars in the driveway, that’s a good sign. Logan is most likely home even though his parents are nowhere to be seen. It’s not like he goes to parties on a Friday night.

I suck in my breath as the doorbell rings. How embarrassing is it to show up to your friend’s house while drenched to the bone and shivering?

A confused face greets me, “Oh? Janus. I was not expecting you at this hour.” He gasps finally realizing, “You are soaking wet! This simply will not do. We need to get up warmed up and into dry clothes immediately.” Before I can respond or try to stop him, Logan pulls me by my arm into his foyer. I kick off my dripping shoes and follow Logan upstairs.

“You are shaking.” His monotone but sweet voice cuts through my constant stream of thoughts. I didn’t even realize I started to shake, “How about I run you a hot bath so you warm up?”

“That does sound a bit pleasant,” My lips drop into a slight smile, it’s no wonder Logan is my favorite out of our small friend group. I twiddle my thumbs as Logan runs the water, occasionally sticking his hand underneath to check the temperature.

“I will get you fresh clothes to put after. Free feel to take your time, Janus.” Logan shuts the door behind him. I instantly feel better the second I get the disgusting wet clothes off. They stick to me in every uncomfortable way. The warm bath helps my bones feel less like icIcles. I close my eyes and drift off to a fantasy world I created in my head. It’s nice and peaceful. Quiet, no yelling, and a cute nerd next to me.

A gentle tap knocks on the door, “Hey, Janus. I know I said take your time but it’s has been more than a half-hour and I wanted to make sure you are alright in there.” It’s been that long already? Hmmm. I must have drifted deep into my fantasy world this time. Sometimes I like that world better than the real one, it’s easy to get lost in there.

I drain the water and wrap myself in the large soft towel Logan left for me. My head slowly peaks out as I creek open the door, “Sorry.”

“No worries. I was just making sure you were alright and didn’t fall asleep in there.” Logan’s smile makes me feel weird and almost fluttery, “There is a pile of clothes on my bed. They should fit, I believe we are a very similar size.” Logan steps out of his room to give me privacy while I change.

“I’m decent now.” Logan returns to his room. It feels weird that he gave up his room so I could change. I could have changed in the bathroom or somewhere else. It makes me wonder is Logan this hospital to everyone or…?

Logan hands me a pair of spare glasses with my prescription. He claims he keeps a spare of everyone’s prescription just in case but I have never seen an extra pair for Patton or Roman. It could just be my gay hopeless self but this seems like something you would do for a person you have feelings for, not that Logan would ever admit he has feelings.

“Would you like to explain why you are here?” Logan pauses for a moment, seeming to regret what he asked, “Not that I don’t want you here. You are always welcome, in fact, more than welcome. It just came as a bit of a surprise to find you here soaking wet.” Logan’s stammering is cute.

“The usual. I don’t like my parents and they don’t like me, so here I am.” I nervously laugh. I trust Logan, I really do, but I’m not in the mood to go into detail.

The thunder crashes in the distance and the lightning gives off a blaring bright flash. I jump backwards and fall into Logan’s strong arms, the blush creeps across my face. Logan looks like he is internally screaming but in a good way, “Wow, I love storms so fucking much.”

“I am actually quite fond of harsh weathers conditions like this.” I give Logan a confused glance.

“How? Just how? It is loud, bright, and it will kill us all.” That’s probably a bit of an exaggeration but I’m dramatic, sue me.

“Everything has beauty in it. Even the storms. Once you learn all the facts and science behind these weather conditions, they no longer seem as terrifying.” I love it when Logan talks about anything or everything he is interested in. I could listen to him for hours, “If you would like, I could teach you about thunderstorms and how they happen.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, I wouldn’t mind hearing.” I say very calmly, trying to hide my excitement from the thought of getting to hear Logan go on about something he is passionate about. I am jumping up and down with joy, in my head of course. There is nothing better than getting to hear Logan talk. He gently pulls me onto his bed and covers us in a heavy blanket. It’s so comfy I could drift off to sleep in his safe and warm arms but not yet.

“For starters thunderstorms form when the warm air rises and turns into cold air. The water vapor condensates into water droplets. In a convection cell, the water droplets rise and fall. After a large number of water droplets gather together, thunderstorm clouds begin to form.” As Logan begins to teach me about storms, I lean closer into him. When he doesn’t react negatively, I rest my head on his shoulder, “Now for the interesting part!” Logan’s face lights up when he says that, “Lightning is a discharge of electricity that is nearly 30,000 degrees Celsius! When the air heats and expands it causes an explosion. The sound the lightning makes is called thunder. Not many people know that thunder is the sound lightning makes. That means if you ever hear thunder there is also lightning even if you can’t see it yet.”

My eyelids get heavy and I have trouble keeping them open. I try to reason with my brain to let me stay up for just a few more minutes but that bastard says no. Logan continues to talk but most of the words get jumbled together as I fall asleep.

“Do you have any questions?” Logan asks, “Oh! You fell asleep.” That’s not true! I’m like half asleep at best but too much so to answer, “Goodnight, Janus.” A soft pair of lips kiss my forehead. Did Logan just kiss me goodnight? I guess I’ll find out tomorrow. My wave of endless thoughts calm in Logan’s presence and I blissfully fall asleep in his arms.

[yikesharringrove]

Agitation (or disturbance of the mind)

Here is my piece for the Harringrove Big Bang!! I’m so so proud of how this piece turned out and I’m so excited to share it! @harringrovebigbang

Read on Ao3 (highly recommended. It’s over 16k).

Special thanks to my beta readers @thinger-strang @crispysteve without whom this story would’ve been scrapped in many fits of emotions.

Art for this story to be linked soon by @thedogsled

Check out this amazing moodboard by @memes-saved-me !!

Enjoy!

-

Steve Harrington is a liar. 

He always has been. 

Nearly everything about him is a perfectly crafted facade. 

From the story of his family’s move to Hawkins when he was eight, to the smile that slides easily onto his face when he tells Robin I’m fine. 

Steve is a liar. 

But it's all out of necessity. All for the greater of some good he isn’t all that clear on anymore. 

It was always about protection. 

Protecting his friends and everyone in Hawkins from the truth about Hawkins National Laboratory. 

Then it was about protecting himself from his powers. 

From the way his words had a knack of worming their way into someone’s brain. Of setting up shop inside and clanging around until they could do nothing but bow to his suggestion. 

Just because he could get his way with the right inflection and the telltale shiver down his spine, didn’t mean that that was okay. 

It was drilled into him the first night he arrived in Hawkins. 

After his file was stamped with a large red mark that read defective, he was given to one of the scientists and her husband. 

The Harringtons. 

A normal new family from Eastern Oklahoma. 

That’s what they told everyone. 

That’s what they made sure Steve parroted to everyone in his brand new school. 

His new father took a cigar to the tattoo on his wrist, welting the flesh with an ugly burn. He ignored Steve’s screams and tears. 

You have to fit in here, Steven, he had said, the cigar smoldering between his fingers, Steve clutching his wrist, eyes shining with tears. You have to fit in and be normal. 

So Steve lied. 

He smiled and told everyone he came from a normal family from normal Oklahoma. He said that he lived in a normal house, and read normal books, and played normal sports. 

And he tried, and failed, to convince himself the lab was a dream.

-

“We should do something after this.”

Steve was careful to keep his voice casual. He didn’t want to let Robin in on how much he was dreading returning to his empty house tonight. 

Robin didn’t acknowledge him. She was sorting the returned movies, placing them in piles of genre so they could easily be returned to their proper section. 

Steve quietly lifted his leg, and lightly kicked her hip. 

She glared at him. 

“Quit ignorin’ me. Just say yes, or no.” It’s not like if she said no it would crush him or anything. No. It’s fine. 

“I just have a bunch of homework that’s all, like, due tomorrow,” she said it slowly, as though telling him a beloved relative had died. 

Was it that obvious how lonely he is?

“Don’t worry about it, Buck.” Robin took school real serious. She had perfect grades every year and had already applied to sixteen colleges and universities, including four Ivy League options. 

So Steve didn’t blame her for not skulking around with him. 

With college-less, nowhere bound Steve. 

“I’m really sorry,” she began, getting that sad look in her eye like that night in the mall bathroom when Steve spilled his drugged-out guts. Literally, and metaphorically. 

“Nah, I was just lookin’ for something to do. It’s okay, Robin. Really.”

And it was. 

Almost. 

It’s just that, Steve’s not got a lot going for him right now. 

He’s got a big empty house, and a brain that likes to give him excessive nightmares, and one age-appropriate friend in the whole place. 

But he doesn’t wanna talk about all that shit. 

And Robin looked like there was something on the tip of her tongue. Something her teeth were barely holding back. 

So Steve just scooped up the stack of neatly ordered Action films, and made his way over to the far shelf, taking himself out of the situation before it would get to a place that would only make him lie more and more. 

Robin means well. He knows she does. 

It just feels like a lot of her well-meaning chats end up with Steve lying through his fucking teeth and Robin nearly in tears of frustration at his lack of openness with her. 

She feels like being tortured and drugged together gives them a close kind of kinship very few share. 

Steve feels like he’s got just too much fucked-up baggage to dump on her. 

Not when they’re trying to put the Upside Down behind them. 

Not that Steve could ever put it behind him. 

He felt something build in his gut. Something hot and heavy. Something that always meant his powers were scraping at the walls of the neat little cave he had shut them in. Something that meant his skin would burn until he unleashed some of his pent-up energy. 

He took a deep breath, blowing out the air slowly through his nose. 

He had rules to his power. Rules he had given himself, mostly. Things he’d never use his powers for. 

He tried to avoid his powers at all costs, but he had seen what could happen if he tried to tamp them down. It was less dangerous to open the lid of the box just a tiny bit. 

Especially if he did it right. 

He made his way back over to Robin, finding that spot in his brain that made a shudder zip down his spine. The spot that was made of cold and electric heat. 

It was always too simple when he let the power take over. 

Locate her feeling. Let him consume him. 

And then just, twist it as much as he wants. 

“Robin,” he spoke slowly, honing his suggestion. “You don’t have to feel bad about not spending time with me tonight.”

He felt her sadness and guilt about the evening recede about as fast as the tide. 

She really shouldn’t feel bad about ditching him, especially not when her education is the main priority. 

He matched her lazy grin, wiping his nose discreetly, only a small drop of blood smeared against his hand. 

The rest of the shift passed without incident, and the roaring feeling in Steve’s gut had been sated enough for the time being. 

So he pushed it back out of his mind, and returned to his empty house. 

He was saving up to get his own place. He really was. But it was easier this way. He didn’t pay any bills, had lots of space to himself, and a pool in the backyard (that he never used). 

And it’s hard for him to explain, but there’s something tugging him back into this house all the time. 

He doesn’t know if it’s because it’s the only home he ever knew after the pain and fear that was his childhood in the lab, or if it’s something else that makes him feel tethered to the too-big house. 

Sometimes he thought there was a sense of safety in the old place. 

With parents that spent excessive amounts of time doing research for things he didn’t understand but was sure were important, it was largely an emotion-free place. 

Which was good for Steve. 

High emotion situations made his power boil up and spill over the edge like a pot of water on the stove. 

A place like his empty house, he could keep everything in check. Not get his feelings tangled with those around him. Not catch thoughts that were just beginning to be molded into something brand new. 

He clambered into bed, punching his pillows around in a way that was decidedly not petulant. 

There was a steady silence in the old house. A silence that was as depressing as it was easy on his brain. 

And there wasn’t silence. 

Creaks. 

Creaks issuing from downstairs. From the floorboards in the hallway. 

Footsteps. 

Steve was out of bed in a second, bat held aloft in as close to ready position as he could maintain while bolting down the stairs in his socks and faded green gym shorts. 

He knew how to navigate the house without a sound. Practice of tip-toeing around a volatile not-father kinda ended up giving him something useful. 

The creaks were still progressing, moving up the hallway from the back of the house, where his parents’ empty bedroom sat still. 

The person was getting closer, lumbering slowly as if they were trying to be quiet themselves. 

Steve adjusted his grip on the bat, taking proper batting stance, ready for the intruder to round the corner into his section of the hall. 

First sign of a person, and Steve would swing. 

No questions asked. 

The floorboard before the bend in the hall gave a loud sound, and he could’ve sworn he heard someone curse under their breath. 

He closed his eyes, and swung. 

His bat sailed through the air, and connected with, not an intruder. 

And then he was filled with an overwhelming sense of fear. A completely feral state of fight or flight made him nearly bare his teeth in an animalistic growl. He felt fear, and dread, and pure stubborn, stupid resolve. 

It nearly blinded him, the emotions were so thick and clear. 

And then there whooshed out of him, as though being sucked up by a feelings vacuum, leaving him empty and confused. 

His top lip was covered in blood. 

He had a lot of fucking questions as he stared at the bat, hanging by it’s long nails in the hallway wall, the ominous creaking moving past him towards the stairs. 

The footsteps that were caused by no one. 

It’s official. 

Steve’s lost it. 

He’s fucking crazy. 

He’s hearing footsteps and voices swearing quietly, and he’s going mad and completely batshit and should be tucked away in a padded room for the rest of his life. 

He didn’t even bother to wrench the bat out of the wall as he stumbled after the imagined footsteps. 

He clearly needed to get a good night’s sleep, and to forget that anything happened at all tonight. 

-

Billy hates Harrington’s house. 

He doesn’t, really. It’s given him excellent shelter while he pulled himself together, and it’s out of town enough to serve as a good base for the little gang of Lost Boys he had accumulated. 

It’s just that, the old house likes to make a lot of noise. 

It keeps him on edge. 

Every squealing door hinge, and every creaky floorboard sets his teeth on edge and makes him whip around in a frenzy, expecting to see a demogorgon snarling at him from the sitting room. 

He nearly had a heart attack when he heard the thuds coming from upstairs. 

He generally liked to avoid the top floor of the house. 

Harrington’s bedroom was up there, and it wigged him out something fierce. He’d only been in the dilapidated version of it one time, his first night in the house he had claimed for safety. 

He didn’t intend to stay the night in there, he had just stumbled upon it, and curled up in the bed. 

He remembers not sleeping the entire night. He was so scared after coming to in the library, something slimy and disgusting slipping its way out of his throat. 

The whole place had been screaming, as though the Upside Down itself was alive. Alive and being horrifically murdered. 

He didn’t know what it was called then, all he knew was that Harrington’s house was the first one he came across, and that Harrington’s room was depressingly empty and impersonal. 

But, there was a thudding coming from that general area, and if some kinda shitty creature was making its way into the house, he needed to hedge it off before it did any damage. 

He took hold of his ax, never far from his side these days, and slipped out of his cot. 

The floorboards in the hallway were creaky, and he tried to walk slowly, muffling his footsteps as much as he could in his heavy boots, not wanting to warn the monster he was coming for it. 

He cataloged the crew in his head: Hopper had his troop of three in the basement where they were resting up for the supply run tomorrow. Timothy was on nightwatch with his team of five. Billy was in a pack with four others; Heather Holloway, her mother, Janet, and the two boys they found skulking around the library the same night everyone seemed to wake up. One of the boys was called Andrew. The other hadn’t spoken a single word the entire time they’d been trapped. 

Billy liked to call him by different names each time he referred to the kid. Trying to get him to laugh. He couldn’t’ve been more than seven years old, and he was trapped in this fucking hellscape with the rest of them. 

Andrew was thirteen. Billy didn’t like to look at him much. Andrew reminded him of Max. Which made Billy feel empty and achy in a way he didn’t think was very productive for survival.

But Andrew took a shine to Janet Holloway. Probably missing his mother and needing more comfort than his thirteen-year-old self was willing to admit.

The Holloway women were a hell of a lot feistier than Bill originally gave them credit for, saving his ass in a scrap just as often as he had been there for theirs. Heather and Janet were equal parts caring and soft, with the right amounts of clever and bossy to take point on their team. 

Billy let himself be the muscle. 

He let himself be the watchdog and attack dog. He took nightwatches and never let his weapons out of his grasp.

Everyone had a role. 

And that was perfectly okay.

They had to keep together in this world. They wouldn’t survive it otherwise. 

They’d all lost enough people to understand that. 

One of the boards gave a hefty creak under his left foot, and he breathed a quiet fuck through his bandana, listening for more of the thudding. 

It had stopped about forty seconds before, Billy had counted, and he couldn’t hear any other sounds of something forcing its way inside. Plus, the nightwatch hadn’t sounded any alarms. 

He took another step, ax held ready and aloft in case he came face to ugly face with one of the horrible creatures that prowled the night. 

He rounded the corner, and there was a loud bang on the wall next to his head. 

He jumped as paint chipped off the wall and flew all over him. 

He was hit with a feeling of intense fear, and adrenaline rush that caused all the blood in his ears to rush. He looked wildly around, seeing, nothing. 

Billy bared his teeth, ready to go down fucking swinging. 

As long as he took the fucker down with him, that’s all that matters. 

Save the rest. 

And he stood, ready to fight, ready to die. 

And there was nothing.

Nothing in the hallway. He was all alone. 

None of this shit made any sense. He hadn’t dreamed the wall cracked beside his head, and looking back, there were holes in the wall, and a big dent that had splinted the white paint and drywall beneath it. 

There was some fucked up shit going on, and Billy didn’t like it one bit. 

He continued down the hall, creeping to the stairs to check the original source of the noises that had woken him up. 

Harrington’s room was pretty much just as he remembered it from that first night in the house. 

It was sparse and sad-looking. The covers on the bed were all jostled and thrown around, the horrible spindle-like vines covering nearly every surface in the room. 

They had cleared the tendrils in other rooms, cutting them and burning them back, ensuring the vines didn’t start creeping over them when they weren’t looking. 

Billy didn’t fancy being covered and tethered by the slimy black vines. He was pretty much over all this Upside Down shit. 

He took a cursory look around Harrington’s room, not noticing any signs of forced entry from a creature, really nothing was out of place. 

The meager school trophies on the bookshelf next to the closet looked rotted and tarnished, just like everything else in this absolute hell called a parallel universe. There were few pictures in this room, much like the whole house. It had taken Billy a long time to notice the lack of inhabitancy the house had. The way it seemed to feel so cold and empty, it would be that way in the real world too. 

His eyes swept over the dilapidated dresser, cataloging the room quickly for anything that should worry him. 

Billy deemed the whole scene safe, and made sure to close the door tightly as he retreated back downstairs. 

-

Steve’s going fucking crazy. 

He was still in bed, his alarm clock ringing angrily at him as it had for the past six minutes. 

He hadn’t slept at all last night. 

Something just felt. Off. 

The feelings in his chest were scrambled, and they felt foreign to him. Like he had taken in somebody else’s emotions. 

But proximity was the key to his power, and he was alone. Alone alone. 

Like, the closest person was Mrs. Gardfeld in the next house, all the way across their combined, much too big, yards. 

It felt like. It felt like someone was in the house with him. Someone was in the house with him, and they were scared, and stubborn, and tired, and a flurry of things that made Steve feel ill. 

And he couldn’t push them out. 

He couldn’t find the chasm between this slew of someone else’s shit, and his own messy cocktail of feelings. 

The other feelings were like those awful vines in the tunnel. Snaking around under his feet, wiggling up his ankles and keeping him stuck in the mud. Wrapping around his own emotions and squeezing until they just merged into one. 

He’s lost the metaphor. 

Doesn’t matter. 

His feelings are fucked and his brain is fucked and his day is fucked. 

And he has to work a double at Family Fuckin’ Video. 

He found his way out of bed. Not going very far, just standing next to his warm nest of blankets, debating getting back in and hiding for the rest of his life. 

He was going to be late for work. 

He didn’t really give a fuck. 

Keith would be all smug and probably make some remarks about Steve not even being worth the less-than-minimum wage he was making. 

He took a shower, not so much cleaning himself as letting the lukewarm water cascade down on him and hope it got rid of the stench of sweat and anxiety and bad sleep that was clinging angrily to his skin. 

His brain was empty. 

Empty save for the pounding otherness that were these horrible fucking feelings. 

Robin didn’t even have the heart to call him out for being nearly half an hour late.

“You look like shit.”

No, she just called him out for looking like shit. 

“Y’know, it’s really wonderful to have such a caring and thoughtful friend in these trying times.”

She rolled her eyes. He always told her one day she was gonna get stuck like that. With her eyes permanently fixed towards the ceiling in exasperation. 

“Drop the attitude, Steve Harrington. Just because you didn’t sleep doesn’t mean I have to suffer.” 

Sometimes it was hard to tell if she was joking. Steve just clenched his jaw and stared at her blankly. Either she would get mad at him, or sigh and roll her eyes. 

She sighed and rolled her eyes. 

Bingo. 

She wasn’t actually mad at him. 

“You okay?”

“Jus’, some weirdness. Bad vibes.”

He couldn’t give her more than that. Couldn’t say I can feel someone else in my house and I don’t know if someone is hiding in my house or if I’m going crazy, oh and by the way, I was one of those freaky lab kids and I can manipulate and feel people’s thoughts and emotions, by the way.

That’s too much for a slow shift on a Saturday morning. 

That’s too much for really any time of any day.

No, Steve fully plans to take all that shit to the grave. Like a real man, his dad would say. 

“Well, if you could take your bad vibes back to rewind duty, that would leave all the good vibes up here to me.” She shooed him off with her hand, landing a quick slap square on his left asscheck when he groaned and dragged his feet dramatically on his way to the back room. 

Not that Steve would ever actually complain about rewind duty. Steve preferred doing it to anything else in the place. Especially re-shelving. That was just asking for someone to come ask him for a movie recommendation. Steve only watched the same five campy old westerns and when he recommends any of those, people seem to wanna get out of his face right quick. 

No, rewinding was dull and monotonous and solitary, all the shit that Steve really needed on a day like today. 

There was a strict routine and he didn’t have to think or do anything. 

Just sit. New tape. Rewind. Put in case. Put in re-shelve bucket. New tape. Rewind. Put in case. And again and again and again until all the tapes were ready to go. 

Hawkins tended to take out a lot of movies on the weekend. Not much else to do when you aren’t sixteen and ready to hit up any party you could possibly weasel your way into. 

So, Steve had about fifty some odd tapes to rewind from the past few days and he was feeling benignly excited about sitting in the small room for most of his shift. 

It was easy to pass the shift like that. 

Sitting with the quiet whirring of the tapes being tracked back to the beginning. Not having to deal with anyone’s thoughts except his own tedious ones about when he should take his lunch break and reminding himself to check the TV Guide for anything good tonight. 

It was an odd emptiness that took hold of him throughout the day. And he almost felt, well. 

Lonely. 

He almost felt lonely. 

Which is fucking bonkers because that horrible feeling of someone else had well and truly fucked him over last night, and well into this morning, but he kind. Missed. The other presence. 

He’s officially crazy. 

Someone find this boy a padded fucking cell because Steve Harrington has officially gone all kinds of batshit bananas wacky. 

He’s feeling lonely because the horrible not his feelings of fear and anger and betrayal and desperation aren’t clogging up his little brain sink. Even when they were, the brain sink was threatening to burst and leak all over his brain kitchen. 

Or something to that effect. 

He let his eyes unfocus, watching Jaws at double speed and backward for the fourth time that day. 

There was something about the foreign feelings he just couldn’t quite wrap his head around. 

Something twinging in the back of his brain, screaming at him to open his eyes and pay attention. 

But that’s never been Steve’s strong suit. 

-

“Stupid. Fucking. Vines .”

Hopper muttered to himself a lot. 

It was usually too muffled underneath his own bandana face covering and the hefty beard he had been sporting to discern whatever he was thinking, but it’s not like hating the awful black tendrils of gross plant/monster/everything-that-made-up-the-Upside-Down hybrid of vine-ish tentacles was something that just Hopper experienced. 

It was a sentiment they all shared as they hacked away at the new growth in the dilapidated Bradley’s Big Buys. 

They had already ransacked the general store five times over, and took as much as they could salvage from the wreckage of the other-dimensional mall. 

Supplies were needed, and they had to be smart about it. 

Things had been quiet lately. 

Not many beasties out and about since the night they all seemed to come to. 

Hopper had said something about the gate closing and the brain being cut off from the body. 

Billy hadn’t listened. 

He’d been scared off his ass and all that had really registered was clear for now. 

So, they made supply runs. And poked around town for any survivors left to take back to Basecamp Harrington. Only Billy called it that. 

They had the runs down to a system. 

Pry away any vines they could, burning them back as they went, making enough room to slip into the bargain store, gather as much canned food and grimy medical supplies as they could manage, and book it back to the relative safety of the big house on the edge of the forest. 

Nobody talked about what they’d do when they ran out of supplies. When they’d exhausted their resources and were stuck with nothing but the vines on the ground and the spores in the air. 

Billy got it. 

It’s not like he wants to hear he’ll probably die of starvation and/or a gangrenous infection before he’s eighteen. 

They just. Make do. 

Ration food and keep each other safe. 

Always thinking about the minute they’re in and the minute coming up. Not looking too far forward. 

There’s nothing to see too far in the future. 

Billy crashed the blunt end of his ax through the sliding door at the front of the store, clearing away as much as he could. 

Janet and Andrew would slip inside first go, taking as much as they could carry with them. Next round, Heather would take the little one and gather anything left. 

Billy would keep watch. 

He always kept watch. 

Things had been too good for too long. 

After the first wave of those who didn’t make it, the whole broken side of the Earth was too kind to them. Not sending horrible fleshy monsters to nearly suck out their very souls. 

Billy didn’t think this could last for much longer. 

Heather took the little one by the hand, rushing past her mother and Andrew as they returned with their supplies. Billy did a quick scan of them, noting no new injuries. Nothing out of the norm. 

Supply runs were choreographed down to the minute. 

Should the group not return in forty-five minutes, a search team was sent out. 

The small group trudged back to the Harrington safehouse, keeping in the shadows, not a single one of them daring to speak. Billy walked slightly behind the others, never letting himself relax for a single second. 

Things were too quiet.

-

The feeling hit Steve over the head like a sack of bricks being whacked against his skull. 

Walking into his home was like walking into a stinking den of fear and anxiety. The air was clogged with so many emotions Steve felt like he was choking on them, slowly being crushed under their weight. 

Whoever was emitting all these, Steve felt sorry for them. He can’t imagine living with this much bad energy taking up space in someone’s brain. He could barely cope with his own terrible bullshit. He doesn’t know how someone could cope with this. 

He tried to move through his evening to the best of his ability. 

He nearly set the house on fire when he left the tin foil covering on his frozen meal, causing the microwave to spark angrily at him, the potatoes underneath the corner of foil that had nearly caught fire to smolder and blacken. 

Even in the shower, the water as hot and steamy as he could stand, he felt that prickle he couldn’t get rid of. 

Like if he could just close his eyes and reach out far enough, his fingers would brush someone else. Someone nearby. 

He’s felt it before. That there was a person just out of reach. A person he could feel clear as a bell, but couldn’t alter. Couldn’t manipulate. Just had to experience everything that was going on inside and try to hold on for the ride. 

He wore headphones to bed, blasting a mixtape Robin had made for him last month. Something with a lot of heavy guitars and girls wailing about society. 

He doesn’t think it was all that good, but it helped. Helped him feel like maybe the person wasn’t seeping into his own soul. 

And the whining synth of Patti Smith finally let him get some goddamn sleep. 

  “Hello?”

It was his house. 

But it wasn’t his house. 

It was a blank void. It was nothing. It was nowhere. 

But for some reason, his brain kept telling him it was his house. 

“Harrington?”

It was Billy. Hargrove. 

But it wasn’t Billy. 

He was dirty, covered in soot and horrible black sludge that made Steve’s stomach churn. 

“Why are you in my house?”

Billy looked around the blank void all around them. Water sloshed on the floor, lapping at Billy’s black boots. Steve observed his own toes. 

He was barefoot, but he couldn’t feel the water. 

“This is your house?”

Steve didn’t want to explain. 

“You’re dead.”

“Could be soon.”

Nothing Billy said made any sense. But then, Billy never made much sense when he was alive, either. 

He was an enigma to Steve. A big question mark all wrapped up with a gorgeous face and perfect body.

“Where is this to you?”

Why was Steve’s brain so adamant on declaring this place his house?

“Somewhere safe.”

-

So. 

That’s something. 

Dreaming about Harrington. 

Not necessarily something that Billy wanted to have happen to him while he was experiencing the worst possible time in his life. 

Or maybe he did. 

He’d said it in the dream. 

Somewhere safe. 

It’s what he felt in that blackness. 

Safety. Warmth. Hope. 

All the shit he hasn’t felt since he opened his eyes in the rank-ass library. 

That darkness was like a harness, keeping him grounded to something real. Tucking him in gently at night and kissing him on the head. 

It made waking up that much shittier. 

Knowing he’d be on nightwatch with Heather and Janet tonight, he used resting up as an excuse to lay on his cot, hardly moving in the clouded air. 

He needed to process. 

There was something so fucking weird about that dream. 

It felt real in the moment, and he didn’t question anything that had happened. 

Why there was water on the ground at his feet? Why Harrington was there wearing pajamas Billy could only describe as skanky? All of this made perfect fucking sense to dream Billy. 

Awake Billy, had some fuckin’ questions. 

Mostly, those previously listed. As well as: what the fuck?

He blames seeing Steve specifically on being in his house. That makes sense. You tend to think about a guy quite a lot when you’re living in the broken shell of his family home. He blames seeing Steve in those itsy-bitsy shorts and a homemade cropped t-shirt on the well repressed sexual interest he refused to admit he felt towards the guy. 

All that made sense. 

But everything else. 

Steve said he was dead. 

Was he dead?

Was this Hell?

Purgatory?

He’s read The Divine Comedy, and this doesn’t quite match up with any of the shit Dante waxed on about. 

And dream Billy didn’t think that was a weird thing to say to someone. To accuse them of being dead. He just said could be soon and then acted like that was a normal fucking response. 

His head was spinning out of control. 

The only thing that made sense was when Billy said they were somewhere safe. 

Because, they were. 

Even in the void place, he knew they were safe. 

There was a small tapping sound on the wall next to the open door frame. 

The door had long since rotted right through. 

“Miss Janet sent me to see if you’re alright.”

Andrew was always calling Janet Holloway Miss Janet. 

It makes Billy wonder if manners like that were beaten into him by a father like Neil. 

He hopes not. 

He likes Andrew too much for that. 

Andrew hovered around while Billy swung himself out of his cot. 

He changed out the bandana over his mouth and nose. 

Most of them slept fully dressed, even with their shoes and socks still firmly on their feet. 

You had to be ready to go at the slightest sound of Bad in this place. 

Plus, everything was so goddamn dirty, what’s a little mud in the sheets in the grand scheme of things? And the rancid rotting smell of the Upside Down did wonders to cover the smell of body odor.

Billy followed Andrew down the L-shaped hallway, to the sitting room where he found Janet and Heather huddled together on one couch, the little one between them. 

“Apparently something happened on the run last night.” 

Billy’s blood ran cold. He couldn’t make out Janet’s expression under her face covering. The little one got up from his spot on the couch, standing in Billy’s shadow. He liked to do that. Billy figured he felt safe behind someone so much bigger and stronger than him. Someone with a big fuckin’ weapon that was never too far away. 

“Who’d we lose?”

“No one. Everyone’s okay. Hopper just called all of us for a discussion, then went to the basement.”

The basement was Hopper’s domain with his little chunk of the crew. 

He had found some busted up H.A.M. radio from somewhere he refused to explain, and spent all the time he wasn’t watching over his shoulder for threats or gathering supplies from smashed grocery stores, trying to fix it up, tuning it to different crackling stations, and yelling into it. 

El. El, I need you to copy if you can hear me. El!

-

The pillow was a mess of blood the next morning. 

It was congealed and cracked and tacky against his face and made the pillowcase stick to his cheek and his bloody upper lip in a way that kinda made Steve wanna puke a little bit. 

His nose had bled in the night. 

He never got nosebleeds. 

Unless he used his power. 

And that dream. 

That blank void space and that mucky scraggly Billy lookin’ like the hunky star of some apocalypse movie.

Wait.

Blood forgotten, smeared on his face and neck, Steve tossed himself towards the phone on his nightstand, smacking his shoulder against the wooden corner and tumbling to the floor, his legs still tangled in his sheets on the bed. 

He couldn’t deal with anything, snatching the phone up and punching in the only number that was grinding through his head. 

“ Pick up pick up pick up pick up pick up, ” he muttered into the receiver. 

His upper body was still flopped over to the plush carpet, legs twitching and shaking on the bed with his anxiety. 

He’s had some massive fucking realizations and he needs backup. 

“This is the Byers.”

“Put El on the phone.”

-

“Oh. Steve’s covered in blood again. The Upside Down must really be back,” Dustin said in complete monotone as Steve opened the door. 

Steve couldn’t give less of a fuck right now. 

He felt like he was on the verge of a major breakthrough, all coming in the neat package of a major breakdown. 

He felt manic and shaky and so what if he forgot he was covered in the aftermath of a superpower-nosebleed-explosion?

“Shut up. Just get in.”

El had rallied the old troops from St. Paul, calling everyone at the ass-crack o’fuck in the morning and saying something about catching some weird Hawkins vibes all the way from Minnesota. 

It was a fucking weak excuse, but explaining the whole Steve situation was just not really in the cards today. 

He’s got an agenda and they need to stick to it. 

Robin said she’d gather Max on the way to Steve’s place, and Nancy was probably hauling Mike and Lucas over faster than a speeding gun or whatever that expression is, so all Steve had to do was get his story straight. 

“And maybe you should think about putting on a clean shirt? At the very least. I’d say, maybe just start over. Take a shower. Powerwash your face, even.”

“When the fuck did you become sarcastic ?”

“Right after you became friends with the coolest chick on the planet and then decided you’re too good for her.”

“ Chick. Don’t call Robin a chick. And I’ve told you, we’re just friends. I’m not too good for her.”

Really, Steve thought she was too good for him. 

Well, that, and there’s the whole part where she’s super totally not into guys at all. 

“So, what’s this all about, anyway? Mike said on the phone that El called him and left a really cryptic message.”

“Look. She called me to explain and ask if everyone could meet here,” Steve lied. “I’ll give you guys a recap once the rest of the gang shows.”

“But she thinks there’s something going on with the Upside Down? Again ?”

“I think she knows there’s something going on with the Upside Down.”

The more Steve sat with the memory of how Billy looked in that dream, the more he was certain of where he was. 

Billy had been ratty. His normally perfect hair was long and limp, greasy on top and matted around his face. He was sporting a patchy beard, nothing like the fuckin’ pornstache the guy had been rocking all last summer. 

And he was filthy. Covered in grime and dirt, and Steve’s sure if he’d looked harder, he would’ve seen traces of that viscous black goo that only meant bad news. 

There was a squeal of tires, an alarm signaling the arrival of Nancy in her mother’s station wagon, toting her brother and Lucas. 

“I’m in this now, Lucas Sinclair!” came Erica’s voice from the entryway. 

Steve was tapping his foot impatiently.

“Erica, you accidentally found out about all this!”

“So did you!”

The Sinclair siblings’ bickering was only cut by the sound of the Wheeler siblings snapping at one another in turn.

“Am I the only one that thinks it doesn’t make sense to meet up this early? El and Will are like, seven hours away!”

“Mike! It doesn’t matter. We all have to talk and figure out what’s going on.”

The sounds of arguments all quieted abruptly as the four people rounded the corner and caught sight of Steve.

“Oh, Jesus. Who kicked your ass this time?” Mike snipped at Steve. 

Oh, yeah. He keeps forgetting he’s covered in his own nose blood. 

“What? It’s nothing. I kicked my own ass. Just take a seat.”

“I told you to-”

Steve didn’t wanna hear it. 

He loves all these people, but his head kinda felt like it was full of mushy jelly and runny pudding and all the loud talking wasn’t doing much to help. 

He stepped out onto the porch, snagging the pack of cigarettes he kept stowed in the flower box next to the door. 

It took two to finally tame his nerves any. 

Sitting there with all the people in his house waiting for an explanation, he kinda felt like his haphazard plan was shit and going to fall through immediately. 

Just tell them El called. Tell them she saw Billy in the nowhere place and she thinks he’s alive. Easy as pie. 

The tell-tale sound of a skateboard making its way closer and closer announced Max before he saw her. 

Robin was pedaling next to her, helmet lopsided on her head and not buckled underneath her chin. 

They were talking animatedly to one another, their laughter dying as soon as they saw Steve waiting for them.

“Fuck. So this is real.”

“Why does everyone think I got the shit beat outta me?”

“Your ass gets creamed every time some spooky shit goes down in this place, Harrington,” Max informed him. 

She was a little Billy replica, all the way down to the way the corner of her mouth twitched up when she said his name. 

It would’ve been sad. The way she tried to become her brother after losing him so violently last summer. 

But something like relief settled into his bones, strong and real and wait ‘til I tell her Billy’s not dead and he was laughing. Curling in on himself cackling so hard his stomach had already begun to get sore

“Fuck. He’s lost it,” Robin sighed, ditching her bike next to Dustin’s and heaving Steve up, both hands underneath his armpits.

-

Nobody dared speak. 

“And you’re sure? You’re positive you heard one of those things?”

Janet had her arms twisted over her chest, her jaw tight as she watched Hopper’s every move. 

“It’s not really a sound you forget.”

Billy’s hand was shaking, he was gripping the ax so hard. 

“So, we’re fucked,” Angela said harshly. Her cold voice sent ice down Billy’s spine. “If those things are back, we don’t stand a fucking chance.”

Hopper scrubbed his hand over his brow, sighing through the cloth over his mouth and nose.

“It just means I have to try harder. I can get to El, I know I can.”

Hopper said that a lot. But he never explained what getting to El meant. 

Heather had explained she met El once, but she said it was weird and she only saw her like some kind of shadow, a figment in this dark empty place. Somewhere as cold and broken as the Upside Down felt. 

The little one was leaned up against Billy, his left hand balled in the edge of Billy’s leather jacket. He stood like that a lot. It was grounding for Billy. Kinda like holding Max’s hand when she was young and still thought he was the coolest person she’d ever met. 

“But, you only heard something, right? So it very well could be nothing.” Timothy was good at keeping mediator. He always kept a level head and talked slowly and calmly. They needed someone like him in this nightmare.

“They make this noise. This kind of wet chirping. Like this gurgle that just sounds like they’re watching you, ready to pounce out at any time, shrieking and attacking. It’s not a sound you forget.” Hopper had this horrible haunted look on his face, and Billy fucking believed him. 

“Then we up nightwatch. Stick together,” Billy offered. He never usually piped up with strategy, but that’s the best he’s got, and frankly, he thinks it’s the only way they’d all be able to make it through. 

“Exactly. We move in a pack now. Keep track of everyone together, and stay aware of what’s around us. I think we should do a major run and then lock up for a few days to see what goes down.” 

Hopper leaned back in the ratty armchair he was taking up, looking around to see if anyone challenged his ideas. 

Billy had given up his alpha male attitude the second Hopper yanked his upper arm and nearly screamed at him, asking Billy if he was ‘one of the flayed’ all while aggressively checking him over for injuries. 

First time any of Neil’s lessons actually sunk in. 

Respect and responsibility. 

If that fucker could see Billy now, doing nothing but respecting authority and taking responsibility for all these peoples’ lives. 

“We should rest up. Take a run tonight. Get a lay of the land,” Timothy said with an air of finality. Nobody argued. 

Hopper nodded. 

Everyone broke out from the Harringtons’ living room, milling around to get prepared for tonight’s run. Taking stock of what they needed to keep going for the next few days. 

Billy was itching to slide back into his cot and try to seek out that space if he can. The empty space where Harrington and that warm feeling of safe existed. 

The little one stayed clinging to his jacket, and Billy took a loose hold of his wrist, trying to provide some kind of basic comfort to the tiny kid. 

“You wanna go raid the cabinet?” The kid stared up at Billy with big eyes. Billy could never tell what color they were in the gloom. He thinks maybe green. 

The cabinet was a large door, built into the wall of the sitting room, and clearly where the Harringtons kept their games. 

They had these excruciating couple thousand-piece puzzles, the pictures peeling and faded on the pieces. They had Trivial Pursuit and backgammon, and all kindsa shit. 

The little one went and pulled out the checkers board. That was the only game Billy knew how to play anyhow. 

He and Max used to sit for hours, playing with this dinosaur-themed checker game Max’s dad got for her one birthday. 

It helped, playing a game. Helped pass the time. Help bait the anxiety. 

Helped them all feel a little bit closer to human.

-

“I don’t. Get it.”

Apparently, Nancy was not the only one, if the blank stares Steve was receiving from around his living room were anything to go by. 

“Yeah, why did she call you ?” Mike’s snitty tone was really grating on Steve’s fragile nerves.

“She said, she called to make sure everyone could come over here before she told you all to just show up this early on a Sunday morning and then she kinda explained what happened.”

Max was white as a sheet, tracking Steve like he was playing a horrible joke on her. 

“And she saw Billy. Billy Hargrove .” 

Steve nodded at Dustin. 

“Why does she think he’s in the Upside Down?” Robin asked, perched on the coffee table, sitting closest to where he was standing nervously. 

“She just knows .”

It was frustrating, trying to impart the seriousness of the situation without just spilling his guts. 

He rubbed absentmindedly at the cigar burn on his wrist. 

“I just don’t believe this. I talked to her three days ago, and she’s still having trouble with her powers. She can barely move a book, and hasn’t been able to get to the void since July, and you’re saying she accidentally saw Billy Hargrove, who we all saw murder a bunch of people and then get killed -”

“Shut up! He wasn’t himself!” Max shrieked out over Mike, the only time she’d even opened her mouth since Steve had mentioned her stepbrother’s name.

“Even if he is alive, El couldn’t have seen him! It doesn’t make sense!” Mike’s voice rose over Max’s, and Steve has a fucking headache and he’s over it.

“It was me! I had a dream. I went to the void. I saw Billy in the Upside Down. I called El to say she saw him.” 

Everyone went dead silent, staring at him.

“Steve,” Robin began, searching his face.

It was like all the wind that had been filling up his sails, powering his energy ship, had suddenly quit blowing. 

Steve was tired. 

He sank to the floor, crossing his legs where he sat.

“I need you all to shut the fuck up for a moment and let me explain, because I only wanna say all this shit once.” He covered his bloody face with his hands. “I’m like El.”

That statement hung in the air for a moment. 

And then there was a roar of noise.

“How could you keep this a secret?” Dustin shouted.

“Not in a million years !” Lucas decided. Erica yelled something back at him, vaguely defending Steve, which was nice.

“You mean you came from the lab?” Mike had a look on his face like he’d swallowed a particularly bitter lemon. 

“Everybody, shut the fuck up!” Max roared, glowering at each person until they were silent again. 

In all this Robin hadn’t said a word. She was pale, staring at Steve.

“Look, I don’t wanna go into it because it fucking sucks to think about,” Steve still hadn’t uncovered his face. “But yeah. I was in the lab. I got out because they decided I was a failed experiment. My mom worked at the lab and she took me and we pretended like the three of us moved here from Oklahoma and my dad told me never to tell anyone. And I haven’t. Didn’t even tell El. She recognized me from then. Don’t even know how, I left when she was like, three. Doesn’t matter. I’m a freaky lab kid and last night I fell asleep and saw Billy in that-what’d you call it? The void? Yeah, I saw him, and he’s covered in dirt and gross black Upside Down shit, and he’s fucking stuck there, and now we’re here.”

There was another silence. 

Steve didn’t dare to look at any of them.

He didn’t want them to laugh in his face. Tell him he was making all this shit up and leave him alone to deal with Billy trapped somewhere else. 

He wanted them to take his word for it. To quietly believe this crazy fucking shit of a story because the scared other feeling was back and clawing at his spine and making him want to burrow into the ground and find somewhere safe and secure and-

“Okay.”

Of course it was Robin. 

It was always Robin. 

Steve let himself look at her. 

She was pale, but she was smiling at him. 

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Steve nodded once.

“Okay. Uh, great.”

“Wait, if you’re defective, no offense, then how did you see Billy?” 

Steve stared at Max weighing his answer carefully. 

“Because, well, the defective thing, that was all, I didn’t mean to, that was before I really understood what I could do. Don’t get me wrong, it really worked out, but it was an accident.”

“Spit it out, Sailor Man.”

“ Erica .”

Erica just rolled her eyes at Lucas. 

“Okay. Uh, before I explain, just, just keep in mind that I have rules, and I don’t use my powers if I can avoid them, and I’d never use them to be a creep, but-”

“Steve!”

“Fine!” The words were right there, ready to tumble out of his mouth and ruin his life forever. 

There was no going back after this. 

The second they knew, everything would be different.

“I can feel other peoples’ emotions and, like, change them.”

Another silence.

“I don’t understand.”

Nancy was the last person he’d ever want to have this conversation with. 

He knows what she’s thinking. He knows that the great anger brewing inside her is because she assumes he made her like him. Made her attracted to him. 

Made her want him. 

“I don’t use it like that. I would never, put something there that shouldn’t be there. It’s just, When someone feels something near me, I can tap into it. Let it become my own feelings. And then I just, change it. Just a little.” He cast around for a harmless example because so far, everyone was staring at him like a goddamn creep. “Robin!”

She startled slightly when he yelled at her.

“Okay, so Robin. I’d never, ever make you feel something not true to you. Like, I’d never make it so you were into me when you’re totally not, right?” He cast a glance at Nancy. “But, like, the other day, when you felt really shitty when I invited you over and you were studying, I just, I made it so you wouldn’t feel bad. I felt all this guilt you had for leaving me alone when you thought I was having a shitty day, and I made it so you didn’t feel guilty because you shouldn’t. That’s the kinda level I allow myself to work on.”

The look Robin was giving him was breaking his fucking heart. 

Worse still, was the feeling of betrayal that began eating away at her. 

“So, right now. You can tell what we’re all feeling?” Even Lucas, ever the level-headed one, couldn’t look him in the eye.

“I don’t want to. I don’t try to, but I can’t really avoid it. I just try to ignore it. But sometimes, sometimes if I bottle it all up for a while, it comes crashing out of me, and that’s when bad shit happens. If I don’t use it occasionally, it only wakes things worse, and I-”

“I can’t hear this.”

Robin’s anger crashed through Steve like a wave, nearly knocking him over. She stood, towering over him. 

“When we were in that bathroom, all drugged out of our minds. I-” she sniffed, rage tears pooling in her eyes. Steve likes her eyes. So crystal blue. “Are we even really friends?”

Her last question was nothing more than a whisper. 

And it made Steve wish he was never born.

He gaped at her like a dead fish.

“Rob, of course we are! I would never-”

“Because I hated you. And then one summer. Two whole months where we’re close enough that you can get all up in my brain, and suddenly I’m telling you shit I’ve never told anyone before.”

“It wasn’t, Robin I swear, that whole time, I never once used-”

She held up her hand, cutting him off. 

A sob caught in his throat as she turned on her heel. 

She slammed the door closed behind her. 

Another fucking silence. 

Steve couldn’t look anyone in the eye.

Their feelings were enough for him now, betrayal and anger and disappointment rushing into his lungs, drowning him. Choking him. 

“You’ve used them on all of us.”

It wasn’t a question. 

It was just a statement. The coldest he’s ever heard Dustin sound. 

“I just want everyone to be happy.”

“Jesus, Steve. You realize that’s actually totally fucked up, right? You can’t just make us feel whatever you want,” Dustin bellowed at him, standing up like Robin had done, looking down at Steve where he sat pathetically on the floor. 

And, when it’s put like that. 

Sure. 

It’s kinda fucked up. 

But he’s only ever meddled in a way that’s good. He only ever tries to make his friends feel the positives. Hell, on the night of that stupid Snow Ball, he’d given Dustin enough self-confidence to make Madonna seem insecure. 

All he does is try to help. 

“All I do is try to help.”

More fucking silence. 

Steve was so goddamn sick of silence. All he had was silence. He had the nothing, empty quiet. And he didn’t want it from the people who were supposed to make his life loud. 

“El won’t be here until later tonight. I think we should just meet up then.”

Steve buried his head in his hands, biting back sobs as the small group filtered out of his house. 

This is why he had wanted to take this secret with him to death. 

He told everyone who he really is, and now they all hate him, and he’s completely alone, and wherever Billy is he’s fucking scared and-

“Steve?”

Max’s voice was small, mirroring the way she was curled in on herself in the plush armchair near the wall. 

“Do you really think Billy’s alive?”

Steve nodded at her, desperately begging her to stay. To help him. 

“I know he is.”

“I have an idea.”

-

He doesn’t remember falling asleep. 

Doesn’t remember much of anything in this place. 

He studied the water lapping at his muddy boots, dragging his toes through it to make the water wave and ripple. 

It didn’t make a sound. 

“I want to help.”

Billy knew Steve was there even before he spoke. 

Something about the warmth he brought to the void place. 

The safety. 

“Don’t know if you can.”

Steve’s lips twitched into a ghost of a smile at that. His face was covered in blood, dried and flaking away from his skin, painted all the way down his face and neck, some staining the collar of his shirt.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“That happens when the only interactions you have with a guy are to beat his ass.”

Steve cracked a real smile at that. Something big and bright that made Billy’s gut twist in a way he didn’t quite like. 

“You’re forgetting all those other times we spent together. You’re not very subtle, you know.”

Yeah, Billy knows. 

Mostly because he wasn’t trying to be subtle. 

He had talked to Steve about his bitchy ex while they both had their dicks out in the shower. He was trying to be very much un-subtle. 

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

“I know.”

Oh. 

Steve knows. 

And all he had done was stare blankly at Billy. 

Nice. 

“I need to know where you are.”

“Why?” 

“Because I can help.”

Billy just blinked at Steve. 

“Do you know El?”

Something funny happened to Steve’s face. He kind of gave a little smile that flickered into a frown and landed on something a little pinched and awkward. 

“Yeah. How do you know her?”

“Hopper keeps saying he needs to get to her. None of us know what he’s talking about.”

And with that, Steve’s eyes went huge, and his jaw dropped. The water at Billy’s ankles sloshed quietly. 

“Hopper’s there? Chief Hopper? Jim Hopper is there?”

“Jesus, yeah. Been here since we all woke up.”

Steve acted like Billy had told him that Farrah Fawcett herself was on her way to shave his head. 

Meaning, he looked struck fucking dumb. 

“I’m gonna need you to explain.”

“I don’t know. Don’t remember much. Crashed my car on one of your shitty backwoods roads, and then everything is just, kinda, gone. I woke up in this shithole version of the library and Hopper found me here and we’ve kinda set up camp.”

Billy shrugged lamely. Something was dripping, he could hear the sound of it far behind him.

“There’s more of you? How many?”

“Not as many as there should be.”

Steve’s mouth pinched, and his big droopy eyes went all sweet and sad. 

“Where are you? Where’s the camp?”

Billy was suddenly embarrassed. There was a sound like a stream flowing over rocks.

What’s he supposed to say? The hellscape skeleton of your house oh and by the way all your stuff is here and I slept in your bed once because I was scared and sad.

“Someone’s house. Don’t know whose.”

Steve huffed some air out of his nostrils, his mouth pinching again. 

Billy hadn’t realized someone could make so many different expressions just by pursing their lips in different ways. 

“Find out. We’re coming to get you.”

A crash of a wave, and Billy was back in hell. 

-

Steve sucked in lungfuls of air, tossing the towel that had been covering his eyes to the ground. 

“You saw him.” 

Max was sitting in front of him, the t.v. playing static behind her. 

“Yeah. He’s okay. I mean, he’s really gross. Like, he’s-sorry. He’s okay.”

Max was still staring at him like she didn’t quite know how to proceed. 

“But he’s in the Upside Down?”

“Yeah. And there’s others. He said Hopper’s there, that he’s been trying to contact El.”

“Wait, Hopper? He’s alive?”

“Billy said all of the flayed woke up after the Fourth of July in the Upside Down. He doesn’t know anything that happened in this world, and Hopper was there and they’ve set up, like, some kind of camp, or whatever. He said they’re in someone’s house. He doesn’t know who.”

“ Fuck .”

Yeah, Steve agrees with that sentiment. 

This whole thing was like, kind of a lot. 

And deep inside him, those other feelings had yet to leave him alone all day. 

There was some kind of disappointment knocking about in his brain. 

He knows it’s Billy. 

All of those other feelings, it’s whatever Billy is feeling right that minute wherever he is. 

And it only happens when Steve is-

“Max, he’s here.”

She whipped around behind her, staring at the front door like Billy could waltz through it at any moment. 

“No, no not here, here .” She clearly didn’t understand. He used the towel to wipe the fresh blood from his upper lip, still having yet to clean himself up any. “The camp, the safeplace, it’s here. They’ve set up in my house!”

It felt like a revelation on par with the greatest inventions. Steve felt like the scientist that landed the man on the moon or the very first person to melt cheese onto fries. 

A genius. 

“So, he’s, I mean, he could be, just, here .” She looked over the room wistfully, and Steve knew how she felt. Like she wanted to pierce her hands into thin air, tearing a hole in between the two worlds and ripping Billy straight outta hell. 

(Really, she just filled him with a wave of fierce determination, but Steve likes to take poetic license on other people’s feelings sometimes.)

“And you can feel him.”

“Yeah.”

“Is he, okay?”

And he knows this question. 

Not the okay he assured her of when he first saw Billy. Soothing that he wasn’t missing any internal organs or possessed by any monsters. 

She wants to know if he’s held it together. 

“He’s scared. He’s always scared. But he’s really fucking stubborn, and he- I don’t know why he feels these things, but sometimes he gets kinda sad. Almost like he’s lost something, and sometimes, it feels like he’s caught fire, and his insides are just going up in flame and he gets overwhelmed by them. And sometimes he feels-” He hadn’t meant to continue.

“Tell me.”

He’s pretty sure Max knew what he was going to say next. 

She just wanted it confirmed. 

“Hopeless. Sometimes he feels hopeless.”

She sniffed, her eyes shining as she looked anywhere that wasn’t Steve. 

“But, we know now. He doesn’t have to be hopeless anymore. We’ll find a way in, and we’ll get him out.”

He didn’t want to manipulate her. 

He didn’t want to cross the boundaries everyone clearly thought he already had. 

But he was positive he would find a way to Billy. He was positive he would get him out and get him home. 

He sent a wave of that determination and hope and conviction to her. 

“Yeah. We’ll get him.”

-

“Hopper, man, some funky shit is going down.”

Hopper whirled around quickly, halfway to his feet and asking who's been hurt before Billy raised both hands, acting like he was calming an anxious horse.

“Nah, sorry, shoulda worded that better. I just mean, something’s happened to me. With me, maybe. I don’t know. Just hear me out. This shit’s gonna sound, insane.”

Hopper didn’t say anything as Billy explained, beginning with that night when the wall shattered next to his head, and ending with his most recent trip to the void place. 

Billy shrugged lamely when he finished explaining. 

“So, Harrington, huh? Never woulda guessed he was like her. You sure you didn’t see a little girl anywhere in the blank place?”

“No. It was just us. Both times.”

Hopper leaned back in his chair, scratching a hand through his thick beard. 

“The first time one of the demogorgons showed up on our side was behind Steve’s house. Took Will Byers from his shed. They live some few miles away. Second time was in Harrington’s backyard. Took Barbara Holland.” Hopper sighed, looking in the direction of the busted radio. Billy could more or less see the cogs turning in his head. “If you see him again, tell him where we are. Tell him I think the walls are thinnest here. That maybe he and El could tear through. Better yet, tell him to find me if he can.”

He clapped Billy on the shoulder, looking right at him in that way he did sometimes. It always made Billy feel like a little kid. 

“Thank you, kid. You might’ve just saved us.”

Billy felt awkward and didn’t really know what to do with his face. Thankfully, Hopper turned away from him, cutting the moment short and moving back to fiddling with the old radio. 

Billy ducked his way up and back to the furthest bedroom on the ground floor, taking a seat on his low cot and digging his palms into his eyes. 

He didn’t know how the void happened. If he could only get there in his sleep, or if it was Steve’s doing somehow. 

“C’mon, Steve. Where are you? Come find me, Pretty Boy. We gotta talk.”

When he moved his hands away, he was in that blank place. 

Billy was taken aback a bit, thinking somehow he had created the place around him. 

Until he saw Steve, standing nervously and staring at Billy. 

“I felt you. What’s wrong?”

“Sorry, you felt me? What in the fuck’s that supposed to mean.”

“Don’t worry about it. What happened? Are you guys okay?”

Steve wasn’t covered in blood anymore. 

In fact, he looked freshly showered, his hair slightly damp and soft-looking without product. 

It’s how he always looked right after having a post-practice shower. Clean and warm. Soft and inviting. 

“I talked to Hopper. He told me to give you a message.”

Steve’s eyes lit up, and he took a step towards Billy, the water rippling where his foot disturbed the surface. 

“He said, well. He told me where we are. Apparently, we’re at your place.” Billy tried to smirk a little, act like this was brand new information to him.

“Yeah. I gathered.”

“He thinks the walls are thinnest at your place. Said that maybe you and El could tear through easily. That mean anything to you?”

Steve nodded so hard his bangs flopped right into his eyes. 

He pushed his hair out of his face, tucking some behind his ear. Billy tracked the movement. 

“We’re going to try tonight. Maybe around six. Can you guys be ready by then?”

“We don’t have any way to track time around here. Don’t even know if it’s day or night, really.”

Steve bit his soft bottom lip, looking at Billy like he wanted to cry for him. 

“Then I’ll come and get you before. Warn you when we’re about to start. Make sure everyone stays close. I don’t know how long we’ll be able to keep it sustained, and we want to get everyone out if we can.”

“Steve, man, what in the fuck is going on? I’ve been shut up in this place for, for I don’t even know how long, and all of a sudden, you just start showing up in my head and telling me that you’re gonna take point on this big fuckin’ rescue mission.”

Billy doesn’t want to admit it to anyone, least of all Steve Harrington, but he’s scared, and confused, and he genuinely wishes that he had died in that library instead of waking up. 

“I’ll explain it when you get back.” 

And Steve smiled at him and the corners of his eyes crinkled and Billy didn’t quite feel like he wanted to die anymore. 

-

“Where are they?”

El didn’t even say hello when she pushed Steve’s front door open, just made straight for Max and Steve in the sitting room.

“They’re all being dicks,” was Max’s answer. “Steve told us about how you two know each other, and everyone kinda freaked.”

“I mean, it’s pretty freaky.”

“Yeah, sure, but they didn’t need to be such shitbirds about it.”

Somewhere between feeling harshly angry at Steve and his powers and hearing her brother’s voice crackle through the television speaker, Max had pretty much ensconced Steve as her sidekick. 

Which he didn’t mind in the least. 

It was kinda odd seeing the Byers in his house. 

Jonathan looked. Exactly the same. 

Like literally. His hair had grown out since his mother had taken a pair of scissors and a bowl to it last summer, and he looked just like the Hawkins Jonathan Steve was used to. 

It was kinda nice. 

At least one thing hasn’t changed. 

Especially because Will is pretty much unrecognizable. 

He had shot up, growing until he could nearly look Steve in the eye. And thank God, he must've followed Jonathan’s footsteps and stopped letting Joyce cut his hair. 

It was longer, adn shaggier, but it made him look so grown up. 

Nearly as grownup as El, her hair nearly down to her shoulder blades, the top of her head coming up on Steve’s chin, showing off the signs of her own growth spurt. 

Even Joyce was sporting a new look. Longer hair with bangs that were swept off her face.

She gave Steve a comforting hug, and those were just the same. 

Unease filled the room. 

Nobody knew what they were walking into. El had to have given them the basics, and Steve figures she explained some on the long drive back to town, but there had been even more developments since the last they had spoken this morning. 

Steve sifted through the borderline panic of Max and the Byers, clinging onto the fierce calm that El was radiating. Probably for his benefit more than her own actual experience. 

“I know where Billy is. We talked. I have an idea.” He took a deep breath, bracing himself for the feelings. “Hopper’s alive.”

It took a second. 

El’s carefully maintained calm wavered for a moment. 

And then it crashed down. 

Disbelief, relief, denial, anger, hope, joy. 

Everything a person could possibly feel at once poured out of El and Joyce both, nearly knocking Steve off his feet with the sheer velocity of the emotions. 

“Saw him?”

“No. But Billy mentioned him. He said he’s been trying to get to you.”

El’s eyes filled with tears, and Steve could feel the satisfaction, the pride, welling up in her that Hopper was still thinking of her. That he was trying to reach out. 

“My powers,” she trailed off.

“Yeah. I know. But, he said, well, he told Billy to tell me, he thinks the walls are thinnest here. Maybe in the woods outback. He thinks we can do it.”

Sorry,” Joyce interrupted. She had gathered herself somewhat, but her feelings were still shaky. 

She always felt like she was trembling emotionally. Joyce felt everything nearly as viscerally as Billy did. 

“I think we’re not on the same page. Steve, you spoke to Billy? El said she sensed him.”

“Steve is like me. From Papa.”

“You mean, from the lab?” Jonathan clarified. 

Everyone was staring at Steve again and he felt like burrowing a hole right through the floor and hiding underground forever. 

“Yeah, I got out when I was a kid. My parents were pretty hell-bent on hiding it from everyone. But. You know. Cat’s outta the bag now. But yes, it was me who saw Billy. He’s in the Upside Down. A bunch of people are. Including Hopper. It sounds like they were all taken and the flayed people out here were like, fake. Like evil twin versions.”

Sure, it’s a shitty explanation.

It’s the best he can do, okay? Leave him alone. 

“So, what’s his plan, then?”

That’s the good thing about the Byers, though. They get the whole, priority thing. Now’s not the time to focus on shit like Steve’s fake life. Not when the Upside Down is concerned. 

“Billy didn’t say much. Just that he thinks maybe El and I could like, band together to open it. I don’t really know how, I mean, I haven’t thought about it much, I just spoke to him, but that's the idea. I told him I would meet him in the void or whatever before we go so he can gather everyone and get ready.”

“So, is it just us?” Will asked quietly, biting the inside of his cheek. He was disappointed. His friends not being where they were needed. Not being there to see him for the first time since his family moved away months ago. 

Steve shrugged.

He was battling his own disappointment and hurt at everyone ditching him. 

“No. Let’s start calling. We need to stick together for this one. Billy hasn’t said anything about how bad the Upside Down has been, and we need to be ready to fight off anything that tries to get through.”

“Max is right. They should be here.” Will was already making his way to the phone placed on the side table. “They need to be here.” 

Jonathan caught Steve’s eye, jerking his head slightly to the hallway. 

Steve followed him, already knowing the line of questioning that was about to hit him. 

“I knew you called El. I picked up this morning. Now the story makes a lot more sense, I guess.”

“Yeah. I’ve been getting this weird feeling for a couple months, but I finally put it all together. Probably would’ve happened faster it is was El.”

“I don’t know. She’s been struggling a lot. She practices every day, but,” he sighed” I don’t know if she’s strong enough to make this work.”

He’s worried, adn scared, and has that exact same tremble-feeling that his mother does. 

“I know. I just don’t think we can leave them any longer. Billy said they’ve already lost people. I don’t know what it’s been like for them, but they’ve been stuck for fucking months, and-”

This time, it hit him so hard he really did blackout. 

His vision clouded around him, and his whole body burned with the raging fear inside of him. 

He could hear something, could hear someone screaming, adn something, something that sounded horrible, and so very very like a-

-

“Demogorgon!”

It’s like it had come out of nowhere. 

This towering figure, long and thin in all the wrong fucking ways.

And the sound. Billy realized what Hopper meant about how it’s not something you forget. 

They were in some form of a ready position. 

Billy among the front of the group, holding his ax he had never let go of in the first place. 

His heart was pounding. 

We’ll be out soon. We’ll be out soon. 

He didn’t believe it. 

How could he?

How the fuck is Steve Harrington going to get them out of the worst place ever? No offense to him or anything, but the guy could barely make a goddamn milkshake without spilling something on the sticky tile floor of Scoops Ahoy! and now, Billy’s life is in this guy’s hands while he stares into the jaws of a monster that looks like it stepped right out of H.P. Lovecraft’s wettest dreams.

It’s not like this is the first time he’s had this realization, but he is in way over his fucking head. 

“Steve,” Billy grumbled to himself through gritted teeth. “If you can hear me, get us the fuck outta here.”

The thing ahead of them wasn’t moving. It stood in the line of the trees behind Steve’s house. 

It was staring down the clump of people on the other side of the backyard. 

The air was still. 

Billy’s ears were ringing. 

He stared the thing down. 

Its long fingers twitched. 

Someone screamed. 

And the thing charged. 

It roared like nothing Billy had ever heard before. A shriek that seemed to vibrate Billy’s bones and tremble the earth underneath his feet. 

It charged. 

Sprinting forward on long thin legs, it loped with a grace that turned Billy’s stomach and made his knees wobble and threaten to give out. 

Plant your feet. 

It rang through his head, Steve’s voice from, some time Billy couldn’t remember. Or maybe Steve was just the little voice that commanded his bravery now. 

Either way, he dug the balls of his feet into the cracked ground, and waited. 

Don’t stop fighting.

He swung. 

The ax clocked right into the side of the thing, barely cutting into its thick leathery skin, but it slowed it down. 

Well, actually. 

It made it change course from attacking the group as a whole, to honing in on Billy. 

Which was less than awesome. 

Billy wrenched the ax out of its tough body, thick, sticky black goo connecting the ax with its entry point as he drew it away. 

He swung again, nearly hitting the same place. 

The thing cried out, roaring over the sound of screaming and gunshots. 

Hopper had his rifle trained on the flowered head of the one Billy was furiously chopping into like a tree. 

There were two more, two he hadn’t noticed in his preoccupation with the one in front of him. 

He didn’t know who was who. Which gunshot belonged to which gun, which shriek belonged to which animal. 

He didn’t know if the cries of pain were from the awful beasts or the people in his camp. He was hoping the former. 

He swung again. There was a sickening sound of the metal blade connecting with something solid. Something like bone. 

Hopper shot it, once, twice in the head. 

It was whining, making a high-pitched noise as it staggered about. 

One last blow to the side of the thing, and it was finished. 

The monster flopped onto the ground, dark liquid oozing out of it, its body nearly split in half where Billy had hammered it with his ax. A great gaping wound that showed sticky dark entrails. 

Billy turned. 

His brain was working in slow motion as he charged into the battle still raging. 

He didn’t know how many of the things had arrived. 

All he knew was taking them out.

His arms were sore from the force he was putting into each blow with his ax. His muscles threatened to give out at any moment.

Drive them back. We’re coming. 

The thought was shoved into his head. He didn’t know where it came from but he believed it. 

“Help is on the way!” He shouted to no one and everyone. 

He had taken down two more demogorgons with the help of the others. One was missing its body, a petal head lolling on the ground, getting trampled on in the fight. 

-

Steve had felt the demogorgon before Billy saw it. 

It was an odd feeling, almost like it was a black hole sucking up everything he thought and felt before he could cling onto it. 

It made him feel cold, and empty, and just like the Upside Down felt. 

“We don’t have time!”

El was insisting on contacting the others. She was livid with them for abandoning Steve, but things were taking a turn for the small group trapped in that hellscape. 

“Steve’s right. If there’s a demogorgon there, that means the Mind Flayer has gotten some strength back, wherever he is.”

Steve nodded at Will gratefully.

“But, what’s the idea? You two open the gate. Then what? We wait for those things to come through to our side?” Jonathan asked, kinda harshly, if you ask Steve.

Steve rubbed his eyes, his fists pressing against them so hard he was seeing odd shapes. 

“No. I go through. I get them. I bring them back.” His head was a fucking mess. Billy was all over the place. Fear, desperation, and a horrible calm that only came when things looked like the end. Plant your feet, he thought, trying to get his feelings to Billy through the thin dimensional wall. Don’t stop fighting. “For the past few days, all I’ve been able to feel is somebody else’s fucking fear and this stupid stupid stubbornness and I know it’s Billy, and I know he’s in trouble. Like right now. The demogorgons are coming for them, and he’s so scared. He’s so fucking scared and he thinks he’s gonna die, and he’s trapped .”

He looked at each person individually, glaring at them all in the eye. 

“We don’t have time.”

So it was decided. 

He brought El outside, and stared into the shimmering water of the pool. 

The pool where a demon came out and dragged Barbara to her death. 

It gave him the fucking creeps. Well, it more gave him the severe anxiety, but there was something about it that made it seem like it was the best place to try and rip the fold between himself and Billy. 

Drive them back. We’re coming. 

He wanted Billy to have some hope. Something like a lifeline that would keep him fighting the monsters. 

He had wrenched his nail bat out of the wall it was still planted in from a few nights ago, and stood next to El, ready to try. 

“To be honest, I don’t know how to help you.” It was the only thing that scared him about this plan. “I don’t have the same powers as you. The telekin-the moving stuff around. I don’t know how to open this.”

She looked at him thoughtfully. 

“In Chicago. Kali. When I’m angry my powers are better,” she took his hand. “Make me angry.”

Steve closed his eyes. 

He tried to push Billy to the side, clinging onto the first bit of El he could sense. 

Her anger was like a melted core running through her. Driving her in a lot of ways. 

He grabbed onto it. 

Papa. Everything he did to your mama. Being locked in isolation. Fights with Hopper. Being trapped in the cabin. Feeling alone and not knowing how to fix it. New kids at school being mean. Techs in the lab that treated us like rats. The smell of skin burning. Parents that called you a freak. 

He didn’t know when he had stopped using El’s ready-made rage, and began siphoning his own straight into the beating heart of her fury. 

His gut began to feel white-hot, and he could feel the blood dripping down his lip. 

Lying to everyone. Being abandoned for the truth. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. 

Steve was livid. 

He’s never felt an emotion consume him like this. Felt one feeling take over so completely it’s like there was nothing else in the world. 

He opened his eyes. 

There was blood flowing steadily from El’s nose, and he knew his was doing the same. 

He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs, his body going into overdrive to divert all of his energy to his powers. 

The rift glowed red through the clear pool water, splitting open like a seam on a well-worn shirt. 

The burn on his arm ached, and he pushed into it. 

He remembered being held down on his father’s desk. Remembers the cigar being forced against his skin, bubbling up and disfiguring the tattoo beyond recognition. 

He remembers his father, this is for your own good, Steven. You’ll tell everyone you had an accident. People won’t question a burn like they will a tattoo. 

Like no one would take one look at the quarter-sized mark and know what would make it. 

He remembers getting the tattoo. 

It was nearly the same process. 

He was strapped down in a chair, his screams going ignored as the needle drove into his skin over and over, leaving a neat black number behind. 

001

Number One. 

The first in a series of children bred for something more, and beaten into acceptance. 

His head felt like it could explode. He didn’t know what was going on around him, was barely aware of El’s sweaty hand in his, and the bright red light coming from the cracked bottom of the pool. 

It was open. 

Number One took a deep breath, and dived into the pool. 

-

It was the little one that noticed it. 

Billy had been trying to yell at him to get back inside, to keep himself out of harm’s way. 

They had killed six demogorgons, and more were certainly coming. 

The trees in the forest were rustling in a way they never did on their own. 

The little one was pointing frantically, his eyes wide and scared. 

Billy turned, and his blood ran cold. 

Something was moving in the pool. 

It was making the thick non-water slosh around dangerously, the dark liquid lapping over the sides and staining the concrete. 

There were vines crisscrossing over the surface of the liquid, and Billy approached it carefully, hoping whatever was coming out would be trapped underneath them. 

“This is the last fucking thing we need,” Hopper gritted out, cocking his rifle and aiming at the sludge. 

And then Billy’s head felt like it had been cracked open. 

He was blinded with pain and rage and 

Help me, Hargrove!

He started swinging his ax wildly at the vines. Trying to break them apart enough for a body to fit through. 

His heart thundered in his chest, and he dropped to his knees, ripping at the slimy black tendrils. 

He shoved his left arm in.

It was like dousing his arm in ice. Like the liquid was made from the purest essence of cold. 

He searched frantically with his hand, finding something solid and yanking with all his strength. 

He had to put both arms in, grabbing hold of whatever he could, using his body weight as leverage to extract Steve from the cold. 

He was limp when Billy finally got him out, but breathing heavily. 

He opened his eyes, wiping his face free of the goop and blood covering him, and grinned at Billy. 

“Told’ya we would get you out.”

They shepherd him inside, most of the gang speechless and struck dumb from the events of the past while. 

Steve was given a change of almost clean clothes, and allowed to use some of their bottled water ration to clean the freezing black fluid from himself. 

He wasted little time, and was down in the Upside Down version of his living room with everyone else. 

“We can’t be long. El had to use a lot of strength to open it, but she’ll need her strength to close it, too.” 

Nobody knew what in the fuck Steve was going on about. 

Nobody but Hopper, that is. 

He still had disgusting pool sludge all over his front from when he pulled Steve into a tight hug when he had gotten his bearings back from his journey through the rift. 

“We can’t send people through that shit. It took all of Billy’s muscle to get you outta there.”

“So we drain it,” Steve insisted. “My parents drain it sometimes, I know how to do it.”

“I’ll keep watch. Make sure nothing tries to make itself known.”

Billy had barely wiped himself off. 

He didn’t care anymore about how freezing that shit was, he just wanted to surge forward, and get back the fuck home.

Hopper studied them both.

“Bring weapons. Yell if you need help.”

Billy nodded once, and turned on his heel, following Steve out the back door. 

Steve led him to a wooden shed on the side of the house. Billy had to clear the vines away from it before Steve could pry open the doors. 

It was full of pool equipment, and it didn’t take long for Steve to locate a large grubby pump. He knocked it against the wall of the shed until the filter attachment clattered off, leaving bigger openings for the sludge to, hopefully, run through. 

“Shit. This thing is electric. You got electricity?” 

It was the first time Steve had really gotten a good look at Steve since being in the Upside Down. 

He looked exactly as he had in the void place. His hair had a lot more disgusting black fluid in it, and he overall looked kinda shitty with the flecks of grime and blood on his face, but he looked bright. Alive. Strong. 

“How did you do it? Take me to that place. Figure out we were here.” 

Steve flushed. Billy had become overly aware that his face was completely covered under his bandana. Steve should cover his face. 

He drew another one of his back pocket, and, he didn’t know why, but he tied it around Steve’s face. 

Seriously, he could’ve just handed it to the guy and called it good there. But no. He had to set his ax on the ground, propped against his leg, wrap his arms around Steve’s shoulders, and tie the bandana like this was some intricate ritual. 

All while Steve just stared at him with those fuckin’ eyes of his. 

“It’s a long story.” Billy could barely hear Steve speak through the dirty cloth now covering his mouth and nose. “I’ll tell you when we’re back. When we’re safe.”

“I’m holding you to that, Harrington. Can’t have a guy poking around my dreams and shouting in my head without knowing his intentions.”

It was as close to flirting as Billy dared right now. 

Right before they tried to journey between worlds. 

“Good to know you heard me. I was trying to give you something of a pep talk.”

“Well, it worked. I would’ve just put my arms out and let those things rip me to shreds if I hadn’t have known.”

Billy didn’t know what Steve’s face was doing behind the cloth, but his eyes dropped, and Billy imagined that little cinch of his mouth that he had noticed Steve doing so much in that void place.

-

Billy meant it as a joke. 

He really did. 

And the Billy that was torn to bits in the mall wasn’t this Billy. Wasn’t the real Billy that was made out of real Billy materials and real Billy personality. 

But it still made Steve feel queasy, thinking about his arms spread wide, black goop pouring out of his mouth and nose as the Mind Flayer decimated him. 

“We’ve got a lot to talk about, Billy. Just, not now.” 

And Steve turned off, hauling the pump back to the pool and taking calming breaths. 

The pump sank without much effort, like there was some kind of gravitational pull at the bottom of the pool. 

Steve had connected the thickest hose he could find, adn sent Billy off with the extension cord to find an outlet that didn’t spark and threaten fire. 

Before no time, the pump was humming, and pushing black slime through the hose and onto the dead grass. 

They didn’t need to get it all out, just as much as they could shove everyone through. 

Steve closed his eyes, trying to reach El like he had Billy. 

We had a hold up. Shouldn’t be long. 

He could feel her on the other side. 

She promised she would stay close enough to the rift that Steve could get in touch with her. 

He could feel something slither down his spine, a wordless confirmation from her. 

The liquid in the pool was slowly edging down, leaving a stain on the once-white walls of the pool. 

“Gather everyone up. Tell ‘em to meet out here. Tell ‘em to leave it all behind.”

Billy was still staring at the edge of the forest when he commanded Steve. 

It was odd, being in his house that’s not his house. 

Everything was so. Wrong. 

From the way the house seemed to be crumbling down, reduced to its studs in some areas, to the way it was still clearly his house. Paintings his father had bought. Elegant furniture his mother selected. 

It was all there. Just under a thick layer of dirt and nightmares. 

He thought idly about his bedroom, wondering if it would look like it did on his end. A little messy, the sheets typically rumpled and unmade. 

He resisted the urge to wander upstairs, reminding himself he was on a mission. 

“It’s time. Don’t bring anything. It’ll probably be ruined along the way.”

Everyone looked grave. Steve tried to smile at them, tried to push through some calmness to them all. He had forgotten Billy’s bandana was tied around his face. He sent one last wave of quiet confidence around the room, and led the group through the kitchen. 

They had barely rounded the corner of the kitchen island when they heard a strangled yell from outside. 

Steve put his head down, and sprinted through the shattered glass doors, skidding to a halt in the threshold. 

Billy was staggering backward, his ax forgotten on the ground and his left hand was clinging wildly to his right shoulder. 

His jacket was in tatters, thick blood dripping bright crimson down his arm, standing out like neon against the dark, dirty ground. 

Steve didn’t feel himself moving forward. He didn’t feel his hands raising in front of him. 

He just felt anger. The same anger from before that had ripped through him like a raging forest fire and straight into El. 

The thing shrieked. 

It backed away from Billy, twisting and writhing as its horrible screams filled the air, making the hair on the back of Steve’s neck stand on end. 

Fierce fury was exploding out of him, and he grit his teeth against the pounding in his head. 

“You don’t get to hurt him,” Steve barely barked out. 

All went still, and the demogorgon snapped into pieces. 

Steve felt like he could pass out where he stood. 

He had never felt so wrung dry. 

His vision was waning at the edges, and he felt an arm around his waist, coaxing him toward the red light now barely shining through a thin layer of slime in the pool. 

“Hold your breath, Pretty Boy.”

-

Steve was limp against him, and Billy was doing his best to ignore the searing pain in his right shoulder as he held Steve close to his side. He had fumbled off both of their face coverings, moving clumsily through the pain of his injury. 

He took one last breath, and jumped into the rip between worlds. 

He plunged into the water, the crystal blue of a chlorinated pool. 

It was the best feeling in the world. 

Being covered and surrounded by clean. The heated water doing more to soothe Billy’s frayed nerves than anything in his life. 

He kicked hard, swimming one-armed to the surface, Harrington a dead weight in his injured arm. 

His head broke the water, and he took in deep lungfuls of clean, crisp air. 

Someone was tugging at Steve, and Billy, for the first time in his fucking life, was glad to see those kids Max was constantly hanging around. 

A woman Billy didn’t know was fawning over Steve, feeling for a pulse, and looking relieved when she felt his hot breath against her palm. 

“There’s more coming,” Billy coughed. 

He barely managed to get the words out, dripping muck and grime on the cement by the pool, when it felt as though he was hit from the side by a speeding train. 

He buried his nose in bright orange hair, hugging Max back as tightly as he could manage. 

He was exhausted, and feeling her there, alive and okay, was all that was keeping him standing. 

“I thought, I mean, we all thought you were dead. We saw it. That thing killed you .” Billy realized, with a whole lotta horror, that she was crying. Sobbing outright into his dirty chest. 

“Yeah, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” How could they have seen when that monster just came at him? 

“Oh, you’re bleeding.”

And if she only just realized he was hurt?

Max frog-marched Billy inside, to a very pale-looking Nancy Wheeler, sitting ready with a first aid kit. 

Billy had to peel his clothes off his body, the fabric stuck to him like a second skin. 

Nobody was speaking, and more of the people locked in the other place came traipsing into the room, fluffy towels wrapped around their shoulders. 

Hopper was the last to come in, holding the woman tight to his side underneath the striped pool towel. 

“Steve and El are closing it back up.”

There was a quiet murmur around the room.

Nancy patched up Billy’s shoulder, Max still stuck to his side like glue, the little boy from camp pasted to his other side. 

He had no idea how much time had past when Steve finally came traipsing into the room with Max’s little friend, both of them sporting matching bloody noses. 

Steve looked like shit. 

His face was covered in blood, old and new, and he still had some of the gross not-liquid in his hair from the Upside Down. 

But Billy doesn’t think he’s ever been happier to see someone in his life. 

“I’m sure everyone has questions,” said the woman tucked against Hop’s side. El, Billy assumes, had taken her place on Hop’s other side, wrapping the towel around her shoulders as well. 

The woman launched into a story that made Billy feel like his brain was oozing out of his ears. 

A monster. One they had all met before. Playing body snatcher in their sleepy little town. 

Apparently, one had been wearing a Billy meat-suit and wreaking havoc around town, which made Billy wanna throw up until he died. 

Which, not-Billy, had died. Fuckin’ brutally. And in front of everyone. Which sure as shit explained why Max wouldn’t let go of his sweaty hand. 

The story made Billy queasy, and he took to studying everyone in the room instead. 

All the kids were there, even the one that had been following Steve around like a little shadow, but they were all glaring in the very much opposite direction of Steve. 

Steve himself was pressed almost against the wall, looking like he’d collapse if the wall weren’t supporting him. 

“What’s up with the cold shoulder?” Billy muttered to Max.

“They’re mad at Steve right now. He’s been lying to us all.”

It was all he got out of her before everyone started moving around. 

The woman, Joyce Byers, he’s learned, had finished her story, and the group from the Upside Down had begun clamoring for rides home, or maybe something to eat. 

Billy just saw Steve manage to slip away before he followed him. 

It took some doing, shaking off the little one, who still wasn’t speaking, and looked ready to burst into tears when Billy told him to stay behind in the living room. 

But Janet Holloway took the kid’s other hand and gently led him back into the living room. 

Billy nodded at her, and sped up the stairs. 

It was weird, being in Harrington’s actual room. 

It was messy, and looked like Steve spent most of his time here tossing clothes on the ground or twisting up in his bed covers like a tornado. 

But it was oddly comforting. 

Being in Steve’s real room, and not some perverse dirty copy. 

Steve was standing, facing the bed, peeling his borrowed jacket from his shoulders and leaving it there on the floor.

“I never said thank you.”

Steve startled at Billy’s voice.

“Yeah. No problem.” Steve’s tone was light and airy, but Billy heard him sniff.

“Max said the little shitbirds are mad at you. Something about you lying.” 

Steve turned around, giving Bily a watery smile.

“It’s a long story.”

“I got time.”

So Steve told him. 

About the lab. 

About the experiments. 

About the torture. 

He explained that he had rules. Never making anyone feel something they already didn’t. Never altering someone’s opinion of, or feelings towards him. 

Billy grit his teeth as he imagined Wheeler giving Steve a hard time about that.

Steve was silent for a moment, not looking at Billy.

“It’s okay if you hate me. I mean, everyone does now.”

“You'd be able to feel if I hated you. You and those powers of yours just saved my life, Pretty Boy. I’m pretty sure I’m feeling the farthest thing from hatred just about now.”

It was as close to a confession as Billy would let himself get. 

But if Steve knows what he’s feeling at any given moment, then that means that he knows, and he didn’t-

“Quit it. Insecurity isn’t a good look on you.”

Steve sounded tired, and he flopped back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling with his arms out. 

At first, it didn’t sit quite right with Billy. 

He had barely even begun to identify what he was feeling when Steve swooped in and just point blank told him what the emotion was. 

Billy spent nearly all of his time being a big fuckin’ facade. 

He tried his very best to hide any emotional tell from anyone around him. 

He prided himself on being a chameleon. That nobody would ever truly know how he felt in any given situation. 

And here’s pretty boy Steve Harrington. Who is feeling just as, if not more, strongly as Billy is. 

But, it takes out all the parts of emotions that Billy hates dealing with. 

Showing them. Talking about them. 

He’d never once had to grapple with the words to explain how he feels to Steve. 

Steve would just. 

He’d know. 

And god, that’s kind of a nice idea. 

Billy sat down gently on the bed. 

“Alright.”

Steve’s head popped up to stare incredulously at Billy. 

Billy just grinned at him. 

[royallyjoon]

nephilim (deux)

you know where the cred goes 💙

cult au, supernatural creature au

yandere! ot7 x f! reader

warnings: yandere themes, violent behavior, manipulation

deep in the forest lies the home to the infamous, successful kim family. you steeled yourself to enter the lions’ den, where kind, masked souls surrounded you, welcoming you with open hearts and open arms. you, however, still keep your wits about you. you protect yourself by getting comfortable, but not too close. but it’s alright. put your guard up to your hearts’ content. you are their favorite past time, after all. either way, sooner or later, you will be theirs...

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

The five Kim siblings couldn’t be more elated, watching the object of their eye sleep without a care in the world.

They remained quiet, speaking in whispers as they strove not to wake you up. Your guarded attitude around them had escaped no one, and they, quite frankly, found it adorable.

You were the only one who didn’t wear your emotions on your sleeve around them.

The sleek, black van turned corner after corner around the winding paths of Ichabod, passing homes, places of commerce, and office buildings.

The Kim family lived deep within the woods, not too far away from the base of the monthly gatherings. All of the other town dwellers would walk from their homes, located at various points in the city, into the twisting black woods in order to appear at the meeting on time.

For the Kims would accept nothing less than perfection.

After another twenty minutes, Driver Bin cautiously approached a narrow dirt path and he directed the car onto the incline, winding upwards on the hill. The car then veered off to the right, entering a secluded road that would lead specifically to the Kim family mansion. 

It stood, raised on wooden platforms with impressive glass windows. The exterior shone in the afternoon sunlight, polished cherry wood glistening through the orange and green leaves on the forest trees.

There was no ostentatious fountain or statue outside the front of the home, nor were there piled bodies of the forsaken lying around their grounds, contrary to popular schoolyard taunts and beliefs. 

Only a winding, wooden staircase that led to the front door. 

The boys stared out the window, gaze breaking away from you for only a moment as they watched the approaching front gate.

A black, iron-wrought masterpiece, as well as their father’s pride and joy: the front gate worked all too well at keeping unwanted guests outside and favored guests inside of the Kim household.

Each of the brothers had grown up detesting that gate. Whether on purpose or by accident, it kept them locked up from the outside world, ostracizing them even more than they had already thought possible.

But now, as the old iron monstrosity creaked open, and as they watched their beloved sleep ever so sweetly....

Why, they wouldn’t have wished for anything other than for that gate to close once and for all, leaving you with them forever.

The metal closed with an ominous clang, and the van pulled into the home’s garage as the sun began to set.

——————————————————————

You peeled your eyes open, disoriented for just a moment before pure panic bled through.

The last thing you remembered was getting into the Kim’s car on your way to their home.

But now, you lay in a queen size, four poster bed covered with soft (f/c) sheets. The dark brown, wooden frame had beautiful gossamer, white sheets hanging down, wrapped around each end so that you could sit up without them getting in your way.

You looked down and found your school uniform still on, albeit a bit wrinkled. There was a sweater a bit too large for you wrapped around your shoulders. Your shoes were no longer on your feet, and the thought of someone taking those off for you made you flustered.

You weren’t sure how you had gotten to the room, but logic reasoned that one of the boys must have brought you in here to rest...

Your face twisted into an unreadable expression...you weren’t particularly sure how to feel about that. 

You should thank them and apologize, of course, but still, the entire situation only heightened your unease.

Your phone and backpack lay on the table next to the bed, and you picked the device up, checking the time. To your surprise, it had only been an hour since you left the school grounds. 

You texted your mother that you had arrived before getting off the bed and walking to the door in your socks. Before you could open it, however, your phone began to buzz in your hand.

“Hello?”

“(Y/N)! Is everything alright?” Your mother’s voice, tired but worried, sounded out from across the line. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine! We just got here. I had to use the bathroom so they led me to a guest room; that’s where I am right now.” You paced around the room as you spoke before sitting on the edge of the bed and fingering the silk canopy.

You decided not to tell your mother about the falling asleep part. What she didn’t know couldn’t worry her.

“That’s good. I get out of work in a couple of hours, I’ll call you when I’m on my way. Just tell me how the project’s going in the meantime, okay?” 

“Yeah, sure.” She cautioned you one more time before hanging up the phone.

You put it in your skirt pocket and pulled open the wooden door, relieved by the fact that it made no sound. It led you to a hallway and you carefully walked out into it, making sure not to disturb anyone.

You surmised that you were located on the bottom floor of the house. The room you were in had been situated at the very end of the hallway, and you found the lack of noise unsettling. 

At first, the only thing you could hear was the soft padding of your socked feet on the hardwood floor, but as you walked down the hallway, the sound of talking and laughing got louder and louder. 

You peeked your head around the corner to see all five of the boys seated in a sort of lounge with large, floor-to-ceiling glass windows. 

The Kims had somehow managed to perfectly blend the appearance of old money with the taste and style of new money artwork and design. The house looked like something straight out of a romantic fiction, young adult novel.

As you looked around the living room, it was somewhat hard for you to take in the amount of wealth in the home. The windows offered a splendid view of the surrounding forest from the inside, although clouded a bit by coffee voile curtains. Before them sat two settees with a small, rounded glass table between them. Closer to the entrance where you stood sat a gray sofa across from a much longer, L-shaped couch.

Taehyung and Jimin sat roughhousing passionately on the sofa while Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jungkook sat on the longer couch opposite them. The former was laughing at the two’s shenanigans, clapping his hands in glee and the latter two were occupied with separate activities: Namjoon reading, occasionally pushing his glasses up on his face and Jungkook concerned with something on his phone.

You hesitantly walked out. “...Jimin?”

All five heads snapped up as they watched you approach.

Jimin’s face broke out into an even bigger smile and he jumped up to stand in front of you. “(Y/N)! How are you feeling? Are you alright?”

“Did you sleep well?” Taehyung smiled mischievously from the couch, but you could tell from his tone that he meant well.

Your cheeks darkened in embarrassment. “Yeah! I’m so sorry about that, I just..didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. I thought I had handled my fatigue pretty well, but I guess it never actually left. You could’ve woken me up, you know...” You spoke with your head down, looking at your hands as they wrung together.

You heard the room go silent for a moment, just as you feared it would. When you looked up, all five of the boys had an enigmatic expression on their face.

It sent chills down your back, just how quickly their attitudes had switched. They went from joyful laughter and peaceful content to emotions you felt were unstable...you sensed a bit of helplessness paired with indifference, and the slightest hint of anger and contempt. 

Perhaps it wasn’t the smartest idea to remind of them of the reason why they were ostracized so much, why they were seen as different. You mentally smacked yourself in the forehead, making a note to be more sensitive about the topic while you were in their presence.

The sound of a hardcover book snapping shut broke the silence, causing you to jump. 

Namjoon gently placed the book he was reading on the couch’s armrest and looked at you with a cordial smile. “You should take better care of yourself, (Y/N). It wouldn’t do for you to fall asleep in your classes or end up unwell.”

With that sentence, the spell was broken. 

Jimin gently took your forearm and tugged you into the direction of the sofa he was sitting on earlier, pouting as he spoke. “I should have known...you looked ready to drop since our break this morning.”

He seated you and took the place on your right as you waved him off. “It’s fine, it was my fault-”

“If you still want to rest, feel free to go back to the guest room!” Taehyung added, claiming the spot on the other side of you.

“Never feel like you have to hide how you feel around us, (Y/N).” Hoseok said with another winning grin, leaning forward in his seat. 

You blinked warily at all of their support. “Well...thanks, guys.”

Your eyes stopped on Jungkook, who was staring at you, and his heavy gaze made you itch.

You leaned back in your seat and felt the sweater you’d woken up with start to slip. 

You pulled it off of your shoulders, beginning to question how it even got there in the first place, and met eyes with Jungkook again. “Is this yours...?”

He nodded and opened his mouth to speak for the first time. “You were shivering in your sleep in the car. I thought you might need it, so I left it with you after I carried you in.”

You folded it and handed it back to him, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. “Thank you, Jungkook. Again, I’m sorry for falling asleep on you all like that.”

He took it from you, large eyes getting slightly wider in wonder. 

“It’s alright, (Y/N). We’re glad to help you out with whatever you need.” Namjoon nodded and smiled, the dimple in his left cheek prominent. You smiled, a bit more relaxed now but still cautious of your behavior.

“Thank you for welcoming me to your lovely home, then.” You replied, admiring the layout once more.

“Aww, she thinks our home is lovely.” Taehyung gushed. “Seokjin hyung would love to hear that someone finally appreciates his taste in design.”

You cocked your head at him. “Your brother designed this living room?”

“Our eldest brother,” Jimin gushed. “He threw a huge tantrum a couple of years ago, complaining to our parents about how much he couldn’t stand the decor, so they let him draw up a design plan...then they ended up going along with it.”

“He and Yoongi hyung, our other brother, are usually studying away at college,” Taehyung went on. “Our parents bought them an apartment in the city so they could be closer to the campus, but because they have to be present for the meetings, they come back home for a bit every month.”

“They were here last night, but then they had to leave immediately.” Hoseok added.

Before the discussion could continue, you heard the sound of sharp clacks approaching the room.

“My darling sons,” A tilting voice spoke from the entryway and out came one of the most beautiful women you’d ever seen (aside from your mother, of course). 

She glided across the wooden floor in sensibly high heels, a silk dress complementing her figure and a tan blazer resting on her shoulders. In her hands, she carried a silver tray full of neatly arranged snacks. 

“I brought a little something for you all to enjoy! I know how hungry you all get-oh....who is this?” She slowed with a smile as she approached the couch.

Kim Eunbyul was not a person meant to be taken lightly. Her status in this town was no different than royalty, and she exemplified grace with every step that she took. 

As expected of the two time winner of the Pluton Actress Award.

You stared at her in amazement before you quickly snapped back to your senses and rose, giving a polite bow in greeting. “Good evening, Mrs. Kim! I’m (Y/N) (L/N).”

“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest thing,” she hummed, laying the tray on the table. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, (Y/N). Might I ask why you’ve decided to visit our humble home?”

“She’s here on my invitation, Mother.” Jimin spoke and your gaze snapped over to him in shock. His tone sounded so...flat, so unfazed, so unlike every other expression you’d heard him use today. “We have a group project for Mrs. Hargrove’s class, one that will be a considerable part of our grade.”

“Alright, I understand.” She chided him slightly, seemingly used to his attitude. She came to stand before you, leaning a good couple of inches above you. “Let me get a good look at you.”

You smiled at her—an actual smile this time, albeit a small one—as she grasped your hands in hers. 

To your surprise, you could feel them tremble slightly.

You stood there, making an effort to avoid eye contact as she studied you. When you looked to the brothers’ in an attempt for nonverbal help, your breath hitched.

The siblings gazed at their mother with something likened to...no, something that was utter detestation.

Jungkook payed her no mind, his thumb obsessively stroking the sweater he held in his possession once more. 

Hoseok and Taehyung openly glared at their mother behind her back, the elder’s lips frowning in annoyance and the younger’s twisting into a sneer.

Jimin’s eyes glued onto her, oozing indifference, his gaze all too similar to the one he’d sent Mrs. Hargrove earlier that day. 

Namjoon simply watched his mother with cocky amusement glinting in his eyes.

Mrs. Kim gave your hands a gentle squeeze and she smiled. “You have a wonderful energy around you, my dear. You possess a wisdom far beyond your years, and great power as well. I advise you to be wary of some of the people around you, though. They may want to steal your power for themselves.” She gave a small sigh and pat the back of your hands before lowering them gently.

“Thank...you?” You smiled at her in polite confusion. As far as you knew, Mrs. Kim was an actress. No one had said anything about her being able to tell people’s fortunes.

Your classmates would have called her a witch.

But with her husband acting as Wylynne’s divine messenger, would she truly have no powers herself...?

“Of course, my dear.” She gave you one last smile. “Please, enjoy yourself, and make yourself right at home. Our doors will always be open to you.”

She then left the living room, not so much as sparing a glance towards her sons. Not that they would have wanted it anyway, for they looked as though they couldn’t stand a second longer of her presence.

You watched her go, leaving with the same grace that she came in with, but much quicker than before. 

Your palm still tickled from the feeling of her trembling hand in yours.

“Sorry about that,” Namjoon stood up, brushing off his uniform pants. “I wouldn’t take her prediction to heart. Our mother tends to do that to everyone she meets-”

“Are they true?”

“...What?” 

Just as you started getting slightly comfortable in this bizarre atmosphere, Namjoon’s intense stare brought you back to the present, reminding you of your place.

“Is there some truth to her evaluations?” You innocently asked, trying not to cave under the weight of the older boy’s attention.

“I must admit, I wouldn’t know,” he chuckled, his gaze softening, “we’re the only ones she refuses to do a reading on.”

You nodded, intrigued. “I see. I just find those interesting, is all...”

“Well,” Jimin interrupted, hopping up and clapping his hands. “we should get started on our project!”

“I left my bag in the room, I should go get it.” You turned to go in the general direction of the hallway from which you came but was stopped by Taehyung gently grabbing your elbow. 

“Here!” He stood up, toeing his sandals off and sliding them in your direction. “Jungkook took your shoes off and placed them at the front of the house with the rest of ours, so you might need these.”

“Oh! Thank you. I’ll be sure to return them before I leave.” You smiled at him.

He blushed and grinned in return. 

Jungkook's hair fell into his eyes as he looked down in shame. “I should have prepared a pair of slippers for you while you were sleeping, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it!” You claimed, just to watch his eyes light up again.

“Good luck on the project, you two!” Hoseok said, turning to leave.

“Let me come with you, (Y/N)!” Jimin said, taking you by the hand. “We’ll be right back, Namjoon hyung!”

He pulled you towards the entryway and you heard the boys start to disassemble behind you, heading off toward their respective locations with the exception of Namjoon, who sat back down on the couch to wait.

You traipsed down the hallway with Jimin. “I think your mother is a lovely person,” you quietly stated.

Jimin didn’t pause, but his grip on your elbow tightened before he turned to you, eyes scrunched together because of his wide smile. “I’m glad you think so! I think she likes you as well.”

You smiled back at him, carefully watching his expression, before turning your gaze to the wood floor. He stood at the doorway as you grabbed your bag and arranged the bed. 

When that was finished, the two of you walked down the hallway and met up with Namjoon, and ascended to the third floor of the home.

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

The Kims’ library looked like something out of Beauty and the Beast, though it was nowhere near as grandiose in height. Your inner bookworm squealed at the sight of all the books lining the shelves, as well as the plush couch and beanbags resting in the leftmost corner of the library. 

You held on to the strap of your bag, following Jimin and Namjoon as they weaved their way through multiple bookcases.

Namjoon reached a dilapidated wooden shelf at the back of the room. His fingers trailed over the book backings and he backtracked and picked one up, blowing the dust off of it only to end up coughing. Jimin muffed his giggle as he covered his nose and mouth with his sweater sleeve.

“I believe this is what you were looking for,” he said once his coughing fit was over, “The Word of the Lost.”

What a fascinating title...

“Ah, yes, hyung! This is exactly what we needed!” Jimin’s eyes practically sparkled as he took the book from his brother. It was an old, leather bound thing and the glossy pages flashed underneath the dim library lights. 

It reminded you of the older bibles with illuminated pages.

“Thank you for helping us look.” You said. Namjoon nodded toward you with his classic student-body-president smile.

“Of course. I thumbed through this book many times as a child.” Namjoon said. “I’m sure you both will be able to find a fascinating creature to do your report on.” 

The three of you walked out from the labyrinth of shelves and you beelined toward the couch, making yourself comfortable.

Jimin came to sit next to you, placing the book on his lap and waving goodbye to his brother. While you were bent over retrieving your school materials, Namjoon returned the wave with a smirk and left the library, leaving the two of you to your work.

You pulled out your notebook and a writing utensil, turning to Jimin as your academic weariness set in once more. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” he stated, opening the book. “I don’t spend as much time in the library as Namjoon hyung, but I do remember there being a host of creatures in this book...”

UnFortunately, Namjoon’s recollection of the text was spot on. There were so many mythological creatures, you and Jimin were overwhelmed and didn’t know which one to pick.

“How about banshees?” Jimin suggested. 

“The harbingers of death?” You mused. “I know of them. They’re one of my favorites.”

“Ah...then what about the wendigo?”

You shuddered. “I know about them as well; their folklore is so interesting, but so creepy.”

Jimin nodded, paging through the novel again. “We could research golems?”

You smiled and shook your head. “I’ve heard about them before relative to Jewish mythology...and they’re somewhat similar to the Egyptian ushabti.”

Jimin playfully groaned and dropped his head back onto the couch. “You’re so learned, (Y/N)! How did you hear about all of these mythological figures?”

You shrugged and smiled a bit, doodling in your notebook. “I’ve just come across them in some way or another...usually through the media.”

You gently took the book off of Jimin’s lap and decided to thumb through it yourself, turning to the chapter list to see the different branches of creatures. Your finger ran down the list before stopping at a certain name. 

“...Jimin, have you ever heard anything about nephilim?”

He stiffened and his brows furrowed. “No. What are they?” 

You flipped the book to the demonstrated page number and began reading. “‘Nephilim are creatures conceived of humans and angels. These fascinating individuals are born with immense amounts of both angelic grace and the original sin of human beings.’” You beamed. “Perfect! This creature sounds the most interesting-”

You turned to speak to Jimin and found his face uncomfortably close to yours. Gone was the innocent, boyish expression on his face, replaced by an endearing and inquisitive stare.

You immediately turned your head to look back down at the page. “-of the creatures...and the least known,” you mumbled, hoping he couldn’t see the tint of red on your cheeks.

Rather than taking the book for himself, Jimin started reading it over your shoulder. You tried not to breathe too hard with his proximity.

He’s too close...

“‘As they mature, they must come to terms with their proclivity to sin and balance it out with their angelic nature. Nevertheless, this arduous task often leaves them with an identity crisis, and most succumb to their sinful natures.’” Once he finished, he turned to you with an impressed look. “You’re right! This sounds really interesting, and if you haven’t heard of these figures, then they should definitely be the one we research.”

“Yeah! So we should get started, then,” you said, pulling out your laptop and casually reseating yourself a couple inches away from Jimin. 

“Mrs. Hargrove wants us to do a presentation as well as write an essay for this project...which do you think we should we work on first?” You asked him, sending your mother your location, and opening a new tab. 

“We could write the essay first, and then pull information from that to combine it with what we find from our research for the presentation.” Jimin suggested, taking out a laptop of his own.

“Sounds good! I shared a document with you.”

The both of you spent the next two hours on your computers, researching as many articles on nephilim as possible. It was somewhat difficult, finding authentic sources about the creatures rather than commentaries on media representations of them, but working off of what The Word of the Lost gave you, there was enough to compile a hefty source list.

After that, however, you, still mentally exhausted, started to get distracted, and then Jimin decided to take a break as well. The project was due near the end of the semester, and the two of you had made enough progress for tonight. You deserved this break.

Outside, the light changed from the orange afternoon sun to the cool blue of evening. Before your very eyes, the sky outside was purple, and the oranges and greens of the leaves had disappeared in the dark, turning into obscure figures and shapes outside the window that left you wanting to pull the curtains closed.

A couple of minutes later, you were startled by the click of the library doors.

Mrs. Kim peered through the opening. “Ah, there you both are!”

She approached you and Jimin with two glasses of water, one in each hand. 

You took the glass she handed to you and expressed your thanks. Her hands didn’t seem to be trembling as much as they were earlier.

“How is it going?”

“We made a lot of progress--I think this project is going to be a good one.” You smiled at her and she returned it, relieved.

She raised a hand and paused, hesitantly lowering it gently into Jimin’s hair and stroking it lovingly. The boy froze, lowering the glass from his lips and turning to look at Mrs. Kim.

“Yes, thank you, Mother.” His tone remained flat.

She breathed out a sigh and nodded at him before turning to you. “(Y/N), darling, I believe your mother has arrived downstairs.”

Your eyes widened and you began packing your school materials. “Oh, really? She didn’t even tell me! I must have overstayed my welcome.”

Mrs. Kim laughed lightheartedly. “Not at all dear. It’s most likely because she encountered my husband along the way. They’re both seated downstairs, talking.”

On the outside, you managed to give Mrs. Kim a pleasant smile. On the inside, however, your thoughts were raging. 

Why, of all people, would Kim Moonsik want to have a conversation with her?

If that old man tries to sacrifice my mother to his creepy little moon goddess, I swear, I’ll-

“I can take you to meet with her, no worries.” Mrs. Kim stated, bringing her blazer closer around her shoulders. “I’ll just wait for you outside.”

She glanced at Jimin once more and turned away, heels clacking on the floor as the click of the door sounded.

You zipped up your bag, having nothing else to pack, and pulled it over your shoulder. 

Before you could stand to leave, however, Jimin gently took your hand in his.

“(Y/N), before you go, I just wanted to say thank you.”

The boy was looking down at his lap, his eyes covered by strands of his hair. You patiently waited for him to finish.

“I know everyone is suspicious of us and would rather not interact with us at all for fear of...” he paused on the last bit, “but you have been the only to one to approach us wholeheartedly.”

“Thank you for not treating us like freaks, or some sort of plague or disease like everyone else.” Jimin raised his head, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes.

You smiled and gently squeezed his hand. “Please, think nothing of it. Why would I treat you like something you’re not?”

“You and your brothers are all just people. You’re a family, just like how everyone else in this town has families.” You spoke quietly. “You may not be the most...orthodox of families, yes, but you’re hardly to blame for that. Who’s to decide what the norm is anyway?”

Besides, I have no reason to hurt you or yours, you thought. 

Jimin huffed out a sob and gathered you in his arms in a hug. You grunted, as it was unexpected, but hesitantly raised your arms to pat him on the back. 

“It’s alright,” you murmured.

Behind your back, Jimin did have tears falling down his face, but rather than a look of sorrow or suffering, sheer, hysterical glee appeared on his face.

He struggled to suppress the broad grin threatening to take over his expression.

The smell of your hair was intoxicating...

“I thank the goddess for you, (Y/N),” he murmured, low enough that you could not make out what he said.

He made sure he regained control of his expression and then pulled away from the hug with a soft smile. He stood up and took your bag for you, much like how you had taken his earlier that day, and led you to his mother, who was waiting outside.

The three of you walked down the two flights of stairs to find Namjoon, Hoseok, and their father speaking with your mother.

She was quite the visage in their home, sitting on the smaller gray sofa, still in her scrubs. 

Kim Moonsik sat in front of her, with one of his sons on either side, looking like interviewers for a job position, while she sat on the edge of the couch opposite them, her hands placed in her lap and looking extremely uncomfortable. 

“Yes, well, working at the hospital has its downsides, but it also has its valuable life experience,” you heard her say. “I truly enjoy caring for and working with all kinds of patients, as well as with the staff of the inter-professional team.”

You heard a hearty laugh, followed by the voice that you were supposed to only be subject to once a month. 

“Careers like yours are crucial in the eyes of the moon goddess, Ms. (L/N). It sounds as though you’re doing a wonderful job.” Kim Moonsik grinned and nodded at your mother, who forced a laugh. “Wylynne looks down on you with favor.” 

“Ah, thank you, Mayor Kim. Praise Wylynne...”

She made eye contact with you as you descended the staircase and quietly sighed in relief.

“There’s our guest for the evening!” Mr. Kim cheered and stood up, walking to stand in front of you and Jimin while his wife slipped by, pressing a kiss to his cheek, as she went to sit next to your mother.

Without the luminescent glow of the moon or the intimidating glow of purple flames streaking across his face, Kim Moonsik almost looked like any other successful businessman and father. He and his wife both had dark hair and dark eyes, and they appeared to be quite the happy couple.

But there was no way that the past several years of monthly meetings was a dream. There was plenty of reason for caution around them, no matter how pleasant they may seem.

Your mother had nagged enough sense into you for you to know that much, at the very least.

You bowed again, hoping your nerves weren’t showing through your voice. “Good evening, Mr. Kim. I’m (Y/N) (L/N). It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He chuckled in a good natured manner. “The pleasure is all mine...I trust you and Jimin were able to accomplish what you needed for your project?”

How did he know? “Ah, yes...we made loads of progress today.” You smiled politely.

“Eunbyul told me all about our visitors just before I arrived,” he responded as though he heard your question and smiled proudly, gently clapping Jimin on the back. “That’s amazing news to hear.”

Jimin smiled cordially, pulling you away from his father and walked over towards his brothers.

“(Y/N)-ie is leaving us now,” Hoseok fake pouted. 

You grimace-smiled at him. 

“Please,” Namjoon scoffed. “She’ll be over here so many times, we’ll start to get sick of her, right (Y/N)?”

“As long as you don’t mind having me over,” you said. “We have until the end of the semester to do the project, so, yeah, I might be over a couple more times...” You slowed as the reality of the situation started to hit. “Actually, Jimin, can I see your phone?”

He handed you his phone and you put your number in his contacts and texted yourself. “Now you have my number, and I have yours.” You smiled at him and handed the device back.

Jimin’s eyes widened in glee and he grinned in return. “Thanks, (Y/N)!”

Hoseok’s fists tightened his pockets.

Kim Eunbyul stood to her feet, her conversation apparently over. “You and your daughter are welcome any time,” she emphasized, placing a hand on your mother’s back. 

“Indeed, Ms. (L/N), Our home is your home.” Kim Moonsik added, placing his hands on his wife’s shoulders.

“Thank you so much, we’re truly grateful for the invitation.” You heard your mother say.

You carefully slid Taehyung’s sandals off your feet and lifted them up. Jimin handed you your backpack in exchange for the sandals and you took it, swinging it over your shoulders. “Please tell Taehyung and Jungkook I said goodbye, and that it was lovely meeting you all.” You said.

“We will!” Hoseok smiled, waving goodbye.

“See you tomorrow at school!” Jimin called and waved enthusiastically.

You waved and bowed to the Kims one more time, then took your mother’s hand and walked down the front steps.

Her car was parked outside the garage (read: haphazardly strewn across the asphalt). 

Your mother got into the front seat and put on her seatbelt without saying a word. Even when she began to drive, she was eerily silent.

It was not until the both of you were outside of the gates, down the hill, and outside of the forest that your mother abruptly stepped on the brakes and unbuckled her seatbelt, exiting the car.

You repeated her movements in alarm, slamming the passenger door shut and running to the other side of the car.

You got there just in time to watch as she keeled over on the side of the road and began to throw up.

“Mom!”

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

Back at the Kim household, the instant the two guests left, a violent chill swept across the room.

Hoseok went to stand threateningly in front of Jimin. “Don’t go around thinking you’re better than the rest of us.”

The younger boy’s grin morphed into a devilish sneer. “Be careful, hyung...it’s starting to sound like you’re jealous.” He shook his phone, still open to (Y/N)’s contact information, tauntingly.

Namjoon scoffed at their bickering before turning his attention to smile at Moonsik and Eunbyul. “Mother...Father...we bid you goodnight.”

Hoseok smirked, following Namjoon up the stairs.

Jimin made a move to go follow them as well, but he stopped in front of Eunbyul. 

“Mother dearest.” The sophomore gripped the woman’s chin, turning her gaze to land directly on him. “As the most talented actress in our county, your performance could have been a bit more...convincing.” 

He looked her up and down, and then released her, throwing her to the right and out of his direct path. Eunbyul stumbled to the side, her form quite visibly shaking.

“I look forward to seeing what you come up with in the future.”

Jimin shouldered Moonsik, climbing past him up to his room on the second floor.

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

Your mother had stopped throwing up, but you continued rubbing her back comfortingly. 

She stood up on wobbly legs and you supported her on the way back to the car. You reached in your bag for your water bottle and some tissues, handing them to her.

She cleaned her mouth off, swished some water around in her mouth, spat it out the window, and then drank some more.

Before you could even ask if she was alright, she turned to you with another stern look. “I was so worried about you.”

Your eyes widened incredulously, but softened just as fast. “Mom, you didn’t have to worry! We were just working on a class project, like I said.”

Your mother nodded and sighed, putting the seatbelt back on. “I understand. It-it’s just terrifying to realize how close you were to-” She trailed off and tried again. “I mean, what if....”

This was a first, for you, to see your mother so visibly shaken. 

She usually was, and is, the epitome of strength in your life. To think that seeing the Kims jarred her to this point...

You grasped your mother’s hand. “I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. They’re just people, Mom.”

“People can be just as dangerous as deities,” she whispered, putting the car into drive.

With that thought, the both of you sat in ominous silence until you had arrived at your home.

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

Once you and your mother arrived, you both had dinner and you ensured that she was able to go to bed of sound mind and heart. From the way she pushed you off of her, you surmised she had collected herself enough to return to her usual temperament.

You made your way up the stairs to your room and threw your bag somewhere near you desk, booking it to the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, after a refreshing shower and a change of clothes, you sat at your desk. It was already significantly late, and you still had to complete the other classes’ homework that you didn’t have the chance to start while at the Kim’s.

As you basked in the comfort of your home’s walls, you felt truly relaxed for the first time that night. 

Jimin and his brothers were, for the most part nice, although misunderstood. The student body usually stayed away from them because of their parents and the influence they had on this town.

 Perhaps if this town were normal...

You sighed and immediately chased the thought away. This town was far from normal, that couldn’t be clear enough. And with Kim Moonsik in charge, the sense of unearthliness clearly wouldn’t change any time soon. 

You spent the next couple of hours doing the other assignments to the best of your ability. When you deemed it enough, you decided to call it a night, packing your things away and climbing under the covers.

Just as you began scrolling through social media, your phone vibrated from an incoming notification and your brows furrowed. 

Who was still awake at this hour? And why were they contacting you?

Perhaps it was Mana, you thought, begging to hear details about what it was like at the Kim house before tomorrow. You probably should have texted them when you got home, considering school was no longer the most....open place to have these discussions.

Nevertheless, you opened your messages and, to your surprise, there lay a text from none other than Kim Jimin.

I’m really glad I met you, (Y/N) 😇

Aww, that’s sweet of him, you thought.

You paused, wondering if you should pretend that you’re asleep rather than text him back right now, as the conversation could always continue in the morning.

You also thought of how he might nag you should he discover you’re awake at this hour after passing out in his car and at his house, and winced.

Yes, it would be best to ignore that until tomorrow morning.

Having had enough of the day, you put your phone to charge and pressed your head to the pillow, falling asleep.

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

As Jimin lay in bed that night, he thought about your comment earlier this afternoon.

“I’m so sorry about that, I just..didn’t get a lot of sleep last night...You could’ve woken me up, you know...”

It wasn’t the fact that they were reminded of the sacrifice last night that made them pause.

No, it was the fact that that worthless scum caused their beloved to lose precious hours, minutes, and even seconds of sleep.

Almost every meaningful contribution Natalia Pierre gave life, served to make yours more difficult than it already was.

She should have been a sacrifice much, much sooner.

On the other hand, they should have thanked her, they supposed. For it was her demise that led you to sleep so silently, so soundly in their presence.

They had finally gotten the opportunity to see you at your most vulnerable, and they couldn’t get enough of it.

But they reined in their greed and held any dominating thoughts at bay. For patience was the art of the game.

Sooner or later, willingly or unwillingly, you would present yourself to them and their company.

And they would welcome you with open hearts and open arms.

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

~taglist~ 

@melaninkpops​ @loserwithapen​ @hellaspookystudent​ @ecillartto​ @omgsuperstarg​ @ace-angel-judas​ @jjamsbangtan​ @lovinggalaxies​ @lovesick-heart0​ @ksxmpoison​ @girlmeetsliv3​ @thedarkwinterrose​ @purpuravm​ @oneweirdbean​ @hopelessfountainjoonie​ @mazmaz30​ @enigmaticlove-03​ @uppiespuppy​ 

[bookwyrminspiration]

That does make sense that you'd try to find a balance, unfortunately I do not think they're bird enough /pos /hj

Maruca as a starling? Idk what that is lemme go look for characteristics of a starling

Ok so Maruca would be like,,,,, the opposite of Dex. She would be social with light squabbling but would have no personal space awareness because she is very social and roosts and nests in groups with other birds. Also!! Nightly acrobatics!! Everyone is just trying to sleep but Maruca is flying around and diving and flipping from building to building before she tires herself out and Plops down but then Dex comes out once he's alone and starts doing his own thing and flies around the place doing various activities and grabbing different things. Maruca is no longer really able to sleep on her own so she just fucks off to Wylie's room and vocalise noises for a bit because that's what starlings do. Ok wait I can just imagine her nesting herself under a desk or something because it's the most similar to what Starlings roost in, same with Dex.

Maruca would also be super protective and aggressive over her food and would huddle over it as she ate

Ooo! Owl Dex! I'm gonna have to do some more research but luckily owls are still terratorial but they do a weird thing with their wings where they hunker down their heads and spread out their wings and make their eyes as wide as possible so now I can just imagine Dex crouching down in a short T pose and fluffing out his mechanical wings and clicking at Fitz when he goes into his space unexpectedly. A lack of physical wings does not mean he had to be devoid of the behaviours!! /pos

Dex would spend all night being up grabbing food and making things and such and really only leaving his "roost" (house) at dusk and dawn and collapsing onto his bed and sleeping the entire day away. He should also be able to tilt and turn his head in really unnatural positions and freak everyone else out with it. Like, nearly 270° of turning instead of nearly 90°. Dex should also have super duper sensitive hearing, like he points out small sounds that are literally unhearable for everyone else, like how Fitz can see so much more than everyone else. He should also be eerily quiet when moving around, like he just seemingly appears in places he shouldn't. Like, to the point of jokes about him teleporting, and giving everyone heart attacks. The only person who isn't freaked out by this is Fitz because he Sees Everything from his perch and rarely strays from it unless he's hungry. Fitz and Dex should also get odd cravings for meat, as they are both predators /hj

Oh I am so happy to be on the same wavelength on you, it is a truly glorious day. Fitz needs to preen and make little noises as he perches and watches everyone beneath him. He should spend most of his time on top of his two Story house with all his work as he tries to figure it out and Glares at everyone who comes up to him without asking before schooling his expression down and apologising

Keefe is just suddenly very wise and ominous and cryptic without realising it and it starts seeping into his jokes and honestly creeps Sophie out without meaning too, like he's over here talking about how all his friends are turning into birds and she's just like "Haha. Yeah." as if Keefe isn't turning into and acting like something else entirely

Omg Dex trying to knock on a door but closing it to knock properly instead of just walking in my beloved 😭

Sophie is so confused about it but Dex is just standing there in *Owl noises* as he's dead on his legs trying to talk because he has severe insomnia during the night but doesn't wsnt to sleep during the day

Dex and Fitz know that the only true problem is how they're in each other's spaces without permission and how it's pissing each other off and they start arguing and wrestling and and Keefe is trying to break them up without success

As she should she should be one of the bird boys now. Maruca Grins as she walks into Fitz's and Dex's spaces with reckless abandon

Also Fitz should just. Be constantly grooming himself. Like, if his hands are free then he's combing his hair and preening his wings and constantly looking in his reflection to make sure he looks presentable and ends up going to the forbidden cities to get make up to cover any "blemishes" so that he can always look beautiful and regal like the Eagle he is and everyone just groans when they're trying to go somewhere but he's stuck looking at his reflection and adjusting his hair and tilting his head every which way to check for flaws and has to be dragged away by Biana while he complains and struggles and tries to get one last look in

You know what Nonsie? that's entirely fair. There may be a reason for that for a certain someone (perhaps...perhaps not...) but as a whole I have neglected to give The Bird Boys enough bird traits. The more bird the better!

(response got long so! cut!)

You know...Maruca has technically never been seen sleeping in her own house in the au, I'm just saying. I mean we know she has a house, but we've never seen her sleeping there. Perhaps she has been nesting with everyone else and just hasn't gotten to Sophie yet (Sophie was having some struggles for a while). I'm not saying that's what's happening...but also...

Also when you said nightly acrobatics I was just thinking of all her little excursions to drive away monsters around the village. Everyone's asleep and she's like welp gotta go fight this thing because it's trying to come into my territory and get at my friends. Square up.

As for her and Dex roosting under desks, honestly I can see that. Just tucking away into the little places they find. Speaking of them and sleeping--fun fact, Dex sleeping in strange and uncomfortable looking positions is actually because my own cousin is like that. Sophie wakes up and sees her cousin practically falling off a couch because a few years ago when my cousin was visiting I walked into the living room one morning (to get to the door to walk the dog) and he was in the same position I described Dex as being in. He sleeps in the weirdest ways I swear.

owl Dex my beloved, so sorry I had you go through so much to get to where you are but you're here now! The mental image of him just t-posing at Fitz for getting too close is incredible, I love it. Perhaps I could use this as an excuse to reignite the weird rivalry thing they had going on between them, but this time they're both extremely confused the whole time like "why are we like this we're friends??" while everyone else looks on. Also you're exactly right! Him being devoid of the physical wings does not make him devoid of the characteristics! That's part of why I made him nocturnal, but I don't think I chose another owl trait/behavior to give him originally and just went "i'll figure that out as I go!" and then never did, so I could definitely sprinkle in some more.

You've actually nailed his sleep schedule--at least the one his body wants. He has a bad habit of staying away through the days as well and just grabbing naps when he can because everything happens during the day. Almost everyone else isn't nocturnal after all. With the head turning thing, I legitimately considered giving him that trait in the au, but decided against it because in order to explain it I'd have to restructure his bones, and that would have many more effects and implications than I was intending just for the turning head thing. It's still a fun concept though, even though I didn't do it!

Dex moving around so quietly he startles everyone is just me. That's just. That's just how I move this is amusing. I've genuinely lost track of how many times i've startled my mom or my dad and sister have turned around just to find me suddenly there when I've made no effort to hide my approach. I'm just quiet. Guess it's time to project that on Dex! But I do like the detail that Fitz would notice, he do be doing a lot of staring at things. He's just. He Sees. Keefe also sees, just in a different way.

Fitz preening and watching "everyone beneath him." Does that mean like...physically beneath him? Like he's on a high perch and looking down on everyone? Or like everyone beneath him in status because he's the best because he's the king bird? Though I have seen that title given to wrens before. Either way he's just in a silly goofy mood! He's gotta make sure all his feathers are doing the feather thing correctly and that everyone knows how cool he is. He's just up on the roof making notes in their monster book all aloof but also he loves his friends and feels bad for glaring and reacting negatively based on instinct.

Keefe being wise and ominous and cryptic is like the ultimate goal. I tried to achieve some of that in a few scenes where he says a thing and people are like...how do you know that and he just brushes it off like haha i'll never reveal my secrets...0_0. But also he tries to deal with as much as he can with jokes so many potentially ominous moments are undercut by him being so jokey. The being is ominous and wise and cryptic and Keefe's monster is the being, so perhaps the more time they spend together the more Keefe will be like that...in that case the next chapter will be very useful...

loving the exchange of Keefe going "all my friends are turning into birds :(" while also becoming part eldritch horror as if that's not even more concerning

listen! you gotta respect the sanctity of the doors! do you know what happened the last time someone burst through a door without knocking? Sophie walked in on Dex shirtless! Dex has to be better than her and learn from her mistakes! And also lovingly rub it in her face how much more consider he is of her space than she is of his!

I think Sophie infected Dex with her insomnia because she's been sleeping better (read: sleeping at all) and he's just constantly white knuckling it through the day like this is fine (lie). He's gonna start crashing more and more at this rate if he doesn't embrace the bird life.

Honestly though I don't know if Keefe would try to break up a fight between the two of them, I'm half convinced he'd be cheering them on from the sidelines and others would have to break them up. I'm thinking Maruca would be very good at that. Just lock them both in little forcefields so they can't fight. She puts them in time out. It's her right as one of the Bird Boys to get in the way

Fitz as Narcissus is not what I was expecting out of this ask but you know what? I love it. He's gotta make sure everything looks nice and is sitting right! He's pretty! He's gotta look at himself! how could you not look at him, have you seen him? Also if we're going with the make up thing he should get some eye shadow and eyeliner. Perhaps because I love eyeliner but also because I think Fitz would look so so good in eyeliner.

Anyway my point is that you have excellent ideas nonsie and you have inspired me to look into more of the bird things for extra details! I've been focusing more on plot outside of the wings (the first arc is learning who they are after getting the wings, the second is fighting Phoenix/the Neverseen), but that's no excuse to neglect the bird boys!

[unbloomingmoonflower]

undead.

The betrayal of the heart is the most wicked thing. 

That was the moral of the story when many whispered of the betrayed, murdered bride. 

No one knew the origins of the deceased bride, except that her beauty known throughout the small towns. It was said that a stranger arrived in her hometown and they had crossed paths. Her heart was stolen by this mysterious man, and he whispered sweet nothings to further lull her deeply into love.

The story goes that the bride went to meet her beloved deep into the woods for them to run away together--only for her to never return.

What else was there to assume, but that she was killed in cold blood?

 The story was whispered and told to any young bride-to-be to be wary of whom they were to marry. Some grooms were wolves in sheep’s clothing. Many brides-to-be have been fortunate with their grooms. Yet there was always a bride who would be wary of her husband-to-be, fearing that he may indeed be a wolf in sheep’s clothing. 

This young bride ventured into the selfsame forest where the rumored murdered bride lay still, her corpse decomposing to the earth. Her eyes darted around nervously, the fog dense in the forest. The trees were withered as though it were a perpetual winter in this forest, the sounds of crows and other animals ringing hauntingly in the air. 

After what seemed to be an eternity did the young bride find herself before the rumored tree that the bride was murdered beneath, large and ominous, its branches hanging dangerously low to the earth. She knelt before the tree, clasping her hands in a vain prayer. 

After all, her gods have abandoned her in her time of need.

“Please,” she whispered, “I fear that my groom simply wants my family’s money. I fear he may dispose of me once we are wed. I beseech thee...I have no one else to turn to.”

The air was still, no noise to be heard. The bride feared that maybe her pleas were in vain after all. This marriage will happen, will bind her to the wolf she feared. No one was going to rescue her from her fate. 

She bowed her head, aiming to rise to her feet, before a voice called out. “Your gods have not heeded your please, so you turn to me?”

The bride lifted her head, a gasp leaving her lips as her eyes widened at the sight before her. 

Mismatched eyes spilling streaks of blood fixated on the bride, lips pressed into a thin line with her face of stone. Long, white hair, matted with dirt, framed a delicately structured face. The dress, once a pristine white, was tattered and greyed, blood stains and decay evident on her skin. Save for her horrific appearance, the corpse bride looked as radiant as when she was to be flee with her intended. 

Before he murdered her. 

The corpse bride’s countenance was cold, unforgiving, as she beheld the living bride. The living woman’s face was full of wonder and fear, as was to be expected when one sees an undead. “You fear your groom. You have retained your wits, unlike I when I once lived,” she rasped, lifting a hand to point at the bride-to-be. “You suspect your groom to take your life once you bind yourself to him in marriage. What do you expect me to do about it, young bride?”

The bride trembled while trying to stand tall. “I wish to be freed from my fate. I fear I may befall...” she trailed off, her voice but a whisper. 

The winds suddenly began to howl, the crows sounding their dark song anew, and before the living bride could blink, the undead one was close to her, face-to-face, to lift a decayed hand to caress a pale cheek. 

“Before you befall my fate. And a tragedy it would be, would it not?” the corpse breathed and the living bride tried not to wince at the rancid stench of rotting flesh. The corpse bride’s eyes were devoid of any emotion, as though what made her human had died when she did. “You want me to free you? What would you give me in exchange?”

The living bride could hardly breath with the close proximity of the undead. Yet she was the one who summoned the being, who brought her from her grave. What did she expect? For the corpse bride to free her on a whim?

With shaking breath did the living bride make her offer. “A chance at vengeance. Even if it not to the one who wronged you, surely it would appease you?”

The corpse tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her lifeless eyes for the first time. She withdrew, throwing her head back with a wild laugh. “Vengeance, is it? You’ve more wit than I give credit for. Very well, then.”

The living bride scarcely could let out another breath, could blink, before the corpse bride vanished, seemingly into thin air. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The storm was beginning to brew and his wife-to-be has not returned. 

The man paced impatiently. The day of their marriage could not come soon enough. He had suspected his bride-to-be was becoming wise to his plan to get his hands on her fortune, to put her to rest from a “tragic accident” once his goal was accomplished. 

Yet this marriage was arranged. There was no way she could escape it. No way he would give up his plans. 

Thunder boomed and lightning crackled when he turned, only to jolt at the silhouette near the threshold of the room’s door. He pressed a hand to his chest in an attempt to imitate his surprise. “Ah, my dear. Wherever have you been?” he asked in mock concern. 

His bride was silent, obscured by the shadows. Something felt amiss. Why ever would she remain silent? Why would she lurk in the shadows?

The man approached his bride, stretching his hand out. “Come, my dear. Why hide in the shadows as you are? Let me behold you,” he murmured, false sweetness like honey practiced in his tone. 

There was only a few heartbeats of silence before his bride stretched her own hand out to clasp his--only for the man to let out a shout of disgust at the rotting hand that grasped his own. The grip was tight, to the point where it could shatter the very bones, refusing to relinquish his hand. 

“So...how ironic that we meet again like this.” 

The raspy voice, devoid of emotion, was still familiar. His eyes widened as the woman came into view, her features unobstructed by the shadows. “Shuri?” he gasped in genuine shock. 

A wicked smile curved the woman’s lips, her grip finally shattering his hand and wrenching a scream from the man and she watched him crumple to his knees. “I was simply another of your victims. You have not changed, marrying this maiden for the same reason as I,” she snarled. “Did you run out of my money so soon? The jewels I’ve brought for you? The gold? So soon after you took my life?” 

“I’ve left you!” the man howled, gripping his wrist with his remaining unbroken hand. “I’ve left you!”

The corpse bride leaned close to the face of her murderer, kneeling herself, the wicked smile still on her lips. “For dead.”

The undead bride closed the distance, her lips against her murderer’s before his vision went black. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The young bride-to-be returned to find her fiancee laying upon the floor, his eyes wide and expression petrified. His countenance was pallid, his broken hand at such an odd angle, his lips blue. 

The corpse bride stood over the body, a self-satisfied smile on her lips before she turned to look at the newly-freed bride. “Your offer was fortuitous. Your betrothed...was my murderer,” she hummed, stepping over the dead body of the man who stole her life, who would have stolen another’s. 

“Enjoy your freedom, freed bride. The hells know, I will not have that chance.”

[gointothevvater]

Kloktober day 3: Werewolves or Vampires 

I’m going with vampires today, and I’m gonna use this prompt to promote my Lost Boys AU, Say Hello To The Night! 

.

The moon was high and full and red over Santa Luna, California when Nathan rode into town in his shitty old truck.

A blood moon? Brutal. This was the night he'd stop, then. This was his destination. It felt like fate.

The town wasn't an especially big one, far, far smaller than Tampa, but it was far from his family, and it was far from Abigail, and that was what mattered.

The streets were busy, and it took a few minutes for Nathan to find a motel. Hotel California played in his head when he parked the truck in the mostly-empty parking lot, and when he stepped out of it, closing the door behind him, the heat of the summer night hit him hard. It was almost as bad as Florida. He could survive it. If he could survive Abigail ripping his heart out of his chest, he reasoned as he stepped into the motel's little office, he could survive anything.

As he was entering, another man was leaving. He was dressed in an impeccable suit, his hair long and silver, his hands clawed, and as he passed Nathan, he gave him a look that could cut glass. Nathan returned it, but was oddly grateful when he slipped out the door.

A young man nearly his own age sat behind the check-in desk, sneering and giving the silver-haired man not one but two middle fingers. He muttered, "Fucking bloodschucker." Then he looked at Nathan and asked, his tone none the nicer, "Checking in?"

Nathan grunted an affirmation, then asked, "There any jobs around here?"

"Nothing legal," the desk clerk said with a curl of his lightly fuzzed lip. He had a copy of Playboy open on the desk, but he didn't seem particularly interested in it. "Payment for the night is upfront," he said without looking up. He jerked a thumb toward a sign tacked up on the wall behind him that displayed prices for lengths of stay. "Checkout is at 11 a.m."

Nathan had enough to stay for a few weeks, and he pulled out his wallet to fish out the bills, handing them over with a pang of regret. His funds were rather limited, and he'd need to get a job before long. He wondered if any of the local bars would let someone who was only nineteen perform. He had a good voice for heavier music. "Probably gonna be here a while," he said to no one in particular. He was a little out of it, honestly. He'd been sleeping in the back seat of the truck for almost a week, and not even well. He was exhausted, and he was sure it showed.

The clerk, whose nametag read Will said, "Might wanna schleep with one eye open."

Brutal, Nathan thought again, and took the room key when Will offered it.

"Room seven," Will said, still not looking up. "Good luck."

Well, that was ominous. Nathan shrugged it off and headed back outside, the humid air hitting him like a wall. He wondered if his truck would be safe for the night. His whole life was in it. He'd locked it up, and the bed cover was pretty secure. The only thing worth stealing was his dirt bike, anyway. It was a 1984 Yamaha YZ490, which he had spray-painted black the day he brought it home. It was five years old, but it still ran well. He'd spent almost a year saving up for the thing, and it was his most precious possession. It currently lay on its side in the bed of the truck. Nathan patted the bed cover and unlocked the driver's side door, darting in to grab one of the suitcases he had left in the back seat. He locked the door, double-checked that it was locked, and set off down along the front of the motel.

He followed the doors until he reached the seventh one, unlocked it, and stepped inside. The floors were beige-carpeted, but the bedspreads were green, and they looked clean, the pillows, too. At the far side of the room was the door leading into the connected bathroom, but Nathan wasn't ready to check that out just yet. It wasn't terrible; He'd certainly stayed in worse places. He took a seat on the bed, bounced a bit. It would do. He pulled his suitcase into his lap and popped the latches. Inside were a few sets of both day clothes and pajamas, his most beloved CDs, which were of no use with his boom box in the truck's passenger seat, and his address book. It was mostly empty, but his parents were listed in there, and come morning, he would need to call them. He wouldn't call Abigail, he told himself, but he wasn't sure if he believed it or not. He sighed and flopped back on the bed, the suitcase bouncing on his legs.

Well, he thought, this sucks.

His neighbors were having a much better time than he was, if the woman's near-constant screams were any indication. Her cries of, "Oh, yes!," and, "Harder!" Did nothing for him, and he swallowed down a wave of self-hatred.

The woman on the other sound of the wall quieted, her voice dropping into a little whimpering noise, and Nathan thought back to the sounds Abigail made when he kissed her. They'd never gone any farther than that, though he knew she wanted to. Did he? He still wasn't sure. He'd hoped that putting some distance between them would help to clear his head, but he was still so confused.

He flinched when the woman next door screamed. Oh, a screamer. Wonderful.

She sounded like she was being murdered, and Nathan rolled his eyes. So much for a quiet night in.

He closed his suitcase and tossed it aside on the bed, rose, and stepped outside. He gave the neighbor's door an irritable bang as he passed. The woman tried to say something, but choked on the words, and Nathan scowled.

There was a great shuffling sound inside, and Nathan bristled, ready for a fight. The doorknob jiggled, and a man slipped out. He was taller than Nathan, which was honestly impressive, and about a decade older, if the streaks of silver in his hair and his beard were any indication. He had one dead eye, and Nathan met it as best he could. He wouldn't be intimidated by whoever this asshole thought he was.

The only reward he got for his effort was a snarl and the kind of glare that could have gotten a weaker man on his knees. Nathan would not go to his knees, but it took a huge amount of discipline to resist the urge.

Without a word, the man strode away, and Nathan watched him vanish around the side of the manager's office. The air was charged and hot, but he shivered, doing his best to ignore the coppery smell emanating from behind the door of room six.

[hazelandglasz]

Can we have a klaine AU of this please 🙏🏼💕

“You’ve locked yourself outside of your apartment and there’s a storm rolling in and I pity you so I’ll let you into mine”

Oh my gosh just the mental image this planted in my head ...

_____

For all intents and purposes, Blaine has spent the afternoon watching the skies slowly devolve from naturally pale blue Winter skies to ominous dark gray.

And now he’s ready for the storm to roll in.

Sue him but Blaine loves a good winter rainstorm, the ones that smell like snow and clean the city anew.

Ah, the first rumble of storm echoes through the city, and Blaine breathes in the ozone through his opened window as the rain starts its drumming against the rooftops.

“Shit, shit, fuck no!”

Ah, so maybe one of his fellow New-Yorkers doesn’t share Blaine’s love for a good storm.

A quick glance to the street below sends Blaine’s heart into a concerto of maracas.

The man swearing as he searches through his messenger bag at the entrance of the building is one of Blaine’s neighbor.

“The” neighbor.

The one neither Wes nor Sam can hear about without reaching for the nearest pillow to send across Blaine’s face.

The one Blaine has a gigantic, desperate, embarrassing crush on.

“Excuse me?”

Shit he has been spotted.

“H-hey neighbor.”

Shit, even ruffled by the wind and slowly getting drenched, Cute Neighbor is still cute as a button.

“Would you mind ringing me in? Looks like I forgot my keys at the office,” CN says with a dramatic sigh.

“Sure thing,” Blaine says, practically tripping over his feet (and his dog, and his dog’s toys) to get to the buzzer.

As CN goes up, Blaine looks around the apartment. If his neighbor comes to, you know, thank him or whatever, he’s going to see Blaine’s apartment, isn’t he?

So much for a good first impression: Schunie’s toys really are everywhere, and his beloved dog is lounging on the couch like it’s his domain.

(It is, but that’s beyond the point.)

“Schunie, basket.”

The pitbull looks up, blinks at Blaine, licks his lips, and goes back to whatever meditation is allowing him to be this relaxed.

“Angel Dumott Schunard, go to your basket. Now.”

This time, the dog stands up and shakes himself, before jumping off the couch to sit in his basket, his favorite duckie plushtoy in his mouth, his back toward Blaine.

“Fine, be a drama king.”

A knock on the door stops Blaine before he gets into a debate with his dog’s butt.

“This is not over,” he still says over his shoulder as he goes to open the door. “Hi.”

Sweet rollerblading Jesus. Up close, the man is even cuter than Blaine previously thought.

“Hey,” Cute Neighbor says dejectedly, one strand of hair curling on his forehead as it is weighed down by rainwater. “I’m pretty sure I will look like a total loser but do you mind …”

Not sure I would mind much coming from you. “Hm?”

“Doyoumindlettingmestaywithyouuntilmyroommatecomeshome?”

“Uh?”

The man snaps his head up, greyish blue meeting Blaine’s eyes in a totally unexpected (and frankly, should come with a warning) move. “I forgot my keys in the office, and my roommate isn’t home, so please, I promise I’m not a serial killer--”

“Said every serial killer ever.”

“--but can you please let me... What?”

Blaine laughs awkwardly. “It’s just--I could feel your tension building up so it was just a joke. You know. To help you relax. Please come on in.”

The man lets out a small noise, between a sigh and a huff of laughter, before entering Blaine’s apartment.

Not exactly the circumstances he had pictured for such a feat to happen--and trust him, he has more than a couple of scenarii for said circumstances--but a part of him is skipping joyfully at the sight of Cute Neighbor wandering into his living room.

“Sorry for the mess.”

“Hm? Oh,” CN laughs, ruffling his hair even further in a desperate attempt to dry them (Blaine hands him a clean kitchen towel). “Thanks. No, this is not messy. You should see our place.”

I’d love to.

“I’d love to.”

Not aloud, you fool!

“Sorry?”

Quick, find something.

“Uh.”

Anything.

“Seems only fair. I showed you mine, you’ll show me yours.”

Anything but that.

“I mean …”

CN’s nose wrinkles before he lets out an adorable snort of laughter. “Cute,” he comments between two laughs, looking at Blaine sideways with a sparkle in his eyes that sends warmth down Blaine’s back.

And Southern regions.

“And who is that refined gentleman?”

Excellent change of subject, Blaine couldn’t have dreamed for a better one.

“That’s my sweet dog, Angel Dumott Schunard.”

“A positively brilliant name, if I may.”

“You may.”

“Is he friendly?”

“Honestly, it depends. Schunie, high five.”

During the whole exchange, Schunie had turned to face the show his owner was giving, sniffing at CN’s pants.

Right on cue, as CN offers his palm, Schunie bumps it with his paw.

The perfect wingman, Sam was right about that.

(Not so much about the “chicks--no, roosters magnet, sorry dude”, though.)

CN straightens up and offers his hand for Blaine. “A bit weird that I got to meet your dog before officially meeting you, but nevermind. I’m Kurt.”

“Blaine.”

“Thank you for offering me shelter, Blaine.”

“My pleasure.

If they keep holding hands for maybe a bit too long, it’s for them to guess and for Schunie to know for sure.

(TBC?)