#and it's endless shit;; every god damn week it's some version of 'is everything okay? you're slowing down?' like yeah bro i got other work!

[scare-ard--sleigh]

ohhhhhhhhhh my goddddddddd and now the fucking t*ble t*nnis guy is passive aggressively up my ass : \

[youbloodymadgenius]

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 1

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello’s masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite, who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310, @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria. Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 1806

Additional note: I'm afraid I'll disappoint some of you. No more newspapers... The articles defined the setting of the story. From now on, it'll be a regular fic.

Hope you enjoy it nevertheless 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

June 2021

Ivar yawns, rubbing his eyes, when he suddenly hears the front door open. The next moment, Ubbe shouts, "Hey baby bro, we're home!"

Slightly confused, Ivar looks at the time on his computer. Stunned, he blinks repeatedly, shakes his head and checks the time again, now looking at his watch. "Guess I lost track of time," he mumbles as he realizes it's really 5:30 pm. He clears his throat. "I'm coming!"

Yawning once more, he wheels to the kitchen. Hvitserk waves at him with one hand as Ubbe greets him with a grin and Sigurd... Well, Sigurd ignores him, as usual.

"Hello boys!" Lagertha smiles as she also enters the kitchen. "Did you go to the beach this afternoon?" It's a rethorical question, since sand can be seen on the tanned skin of his brothers, shirtless and wearing only swimming shorts.

When she looks down at him, her smile becomes softer. "Ivar, you seem tired. Did you work all day long?"

He nods, glad that for once she called him by his first name and not by one of those stupid nicknames that she likes but that make his skin crawl.

"Yep," he shrugs without smiling back, "I made good progress. The new version of your website is almost done. It could probably be online by the end of the week."

His stepmom flashes him a beaming smile. "Great, thanks!"

The conversation then moves on to the subject that everyone in Kattegat has been talking about for the last few days: the midsummer party thrown by their neighbor Harald Hårfager. Every June, it is Kattegat's not-to-be-missed event, to which every resident hopes to be invited.

Lagertha is invited every year, yet rarely attends; his brothers wouldn't miss it, not in a million years; Ivar never went.

He listens with half an ear as his brothers prattle on about the upcoming party, while taking a seat at the large, wooden kitchen table on which Lagertha has just put cakes and drinks.

"What are you going to wear?"

"Do you think Marit will attend this year?"

"Hopefully the music will be better than last year."

"Can't be as bad! What was the name of that reggae band?"

For a fleeting moment, Ivar entertains the thought of attending as well. Not that he's dying to, but… Sometimes, he feels a little bit like Cinderella in this house.

Don't get him wrong, it's not that bad.

First, his stepmom is not–

Wait, wait, wait, is Lagertha technically his stepmom? He's not sure. After all, she wasn't when his parents were alive, she was just his father's first wife. Anyway, she may be his guardian now, but he sees her as his stepmom and he honestly doesn’t give a shit if it's a little weird.

Where was he? Oh yes, Cinderella.

So obviously, Lagertha is not a wicked, haughty and abusive stepmom like this Lady Tremaine of the fairytale.

Actually, even if it pisses him off to admit it, she's pretty nice, patient and composed. Does he love her? Let's not exaggerate – he doesn't. She may love him though, which is a little bit uncanny, if he's being honest. He was the favorite son of her nemesis. Shouldn't she hate him? He would, if the situation was reversed.

The truth is, when he was younger, he tried, he really tried to hate her, blaming her for everything and anything. When too much pain prevented him from sleeping, he let his imagination run wild. There, bound to his bed of suffering, he could see Lagertha cutting the brakes on his mother's car, causing her crash, causing her death.

Of course, even then, he knew deep down that Lagertha had not killed his mother; that the story he told himself was just the product of his endless nights of insomnia. But what can he say? He needed this. Because blaming Lagertha rather than admitting that his beloved mother was at fault – by being distracted, or by falling asleep, he'll never know – was easier for the heartbroken boy he was.

Anyway... So yes, Lagertha is definitely not an evil stepmother like Cinderella's.

Also, he doesn't sleep on a sorry garret, on a wretched straw bed either.

Actually, he has a very large room on the main floor, with a king-size memory foam bed, a walk-in – well, a wheel-in for his case – closet and his own, huge bathroom, fully equipped for his special needs.

Sure, the bathroom and the dressing room were already there when his parents were alive; however, the memory foam mattress had been Lagertha's idea.

Anyway... So yes, he can't exactly complain about his sleeping conditions, unlike Cinderella.

And obviously, he's not forced into servitude.

Actually, one might think so, but no, he's not. Sure, sometimes he works for his stepmom, like today. But so do his brothers. When she had taken them in, she was a powerful businesswoman, working twelve to fourteen hours a day. Once she had become their guardian, she had rearranged her working time and learned to delegate; but even so, she had often run out of time. Therefore, it had seemed normal to them – yes, even to him – to help her out, each of them according to their skills and abilities.

So, while Hvitserk almost always does the grocery shopping, while Sigurd vacuums and does the laundry, while Ubbe mows the lawn and trim the bushes, he, Ivar, runs her company's website and sometimes even does the accounting. And since he loves computers and numbers, it's not exactly a problem.

Anyway... So yes, he's not a slave in this house. Unlike Cinderella.

So, yes, to sum it up, he can't really complain and he's by far not Cinderella. And he knows it.

But... Yes, there's a but...

Sometimes, he feels trapped, as poor Cinderella must have felt.

Sometimes he feels like a spectator of a life he doesn't belong to.

Sure, he doesn't have to be homeschooled – but gods, he's glad he is. The reasons for him to be continuously bullied by classmates are endless. The simplest ones being: he is a cripple, an orphan, the son of a dead mob boss, the smartest one in the whole damn school, let alone his class. Take your pick. It's no fun, no fun at all. Being home alone is preferable to that alternative.

Therefore, barely leaving the house except for medical appointments, he has no friends. He doesn't do sports either – obviously – and yeah, he lives a lonely life, filled with video games and Netflix series. And he's okay with that. Well, most of the time.

Sure, his brothers, or at least Ubbe and Hvitserk, always try to include him as much as possible. But the truth is that because of his legs, there are many, many things he just can't do.

And the other truth, the less pleasant one, is that he partially did that to himself. He cut himself off from a world that hurt him, yet he still misses this world sometimes. At times, he blames himself. Because his life, honestly, is hardly what you would call a life, is it? Not when you're sixteen.

That's why sometimes, like now, he feels this longing, almost a need, to live. To really, truly, fully live. And that's why, for a brief moment, lulled by the light chitchat of his brothers, he considers attending Harald's midsummer party.

But he knows better. This life is not for him, never has been, never will be.

And so, shaking his head, he chases the thought away and, placing his hands on his push rims, he's about to leave the kitchen while the incessant babbling of his brothers goes on.

"I can't wait."

"Don't tell me! As every year, the most beautiful girls of Kattegat will be there."

"Remember that burger food truck? Best burgers ever!"

"I've heard Y/N would be attending this year."

"There'll be booze and girls! Sounds like Valh–"

Wait. His mind goes blank.

Fuck.

What? Did he hear right?

As he replays his brother's words in his head, it's like there's an earthquake happening inside of him.

Fuck.

He stops breathing. Blinks, then clamps his eyes shut.

Fuck.

When he finally manages to draw air into his lungs, he swallows loudly before asking in a weird, high-pitched voice, his heart pounding in his chest, "What– What did you say, brother?"

Hvitserk turns his head toward him and shrugs. "I just said there'll be boo–"

"No, not you!" Ivar snaps at his brother, pointing his pointer finger at Ubbe. "You, what did you fucking say?" Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Lagertha frowning – 'no curse words in this house, boys'– and even if he barely contains an eye roll, he still mouths a quick 'sorry' at her before rewording his question, impatience coursing through him. "What did you say, dear brother? Who did you say would attend?"

Stunned, Ubbe looks at him with wide eyes. "Y/N? I said Y/N would come. That's what I heard anyway. She's Harald's niece. She was here once, right? Remember her, baby bro, huh?"

But Ivar is no longer listening, the blood draining from his face. Y/N... Y/N... Fuck. Finally. Fucking finally. After so long... He may see you again. Wow.

I'll go! I'll fucking go!

He barely contains the words, suddenly acutely aware of the deafening silence in the room, his brothers shamelessly staring at him.

With her brows furrowed and her lips turned downward in a slight frown, Lagertha takes two steps forwards before crouching down in front of him. "Are you all right, sweetie? You're a little pale."

He barely hears when Sigurd giggles, "A little pale? He's greener than an alien!"

Lagertha shoots Sigurd a dirty look and then gently cups Ivar's cheek. "Do you know her, Ivar? Do you know Y/N?"

Overwhelmed, self-conscious, freaked out, caught off-guard, he doesn't know how to respond. Should he tell the truth? Should he lie? His brothers will mock him, for sure. What is the point of telling the truth? What good would it do? On the other hand, he could really use some advice. Yeah. Sure. Advice from Sigurd. Just the thought of it is enough to make him sick. Fuck, what is he going to do?

Rushed words are out of his mouth before he can even gather his thoughts. "No. No. I don't. I mean, yes, I think I do but–" He's being pathetic and he hates it. So after a sharp intake of breath, he shakes his head and eventually replies in a flat, calm voice, the white lie rolling off his tongue. "I know her, but I thought Ubbe was talking about someone else. Sorry."

With these words, he hastily leaves the room, his eyes riveted on his knees, his heart still drumming in his chest.

Y/N. Fuck.

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings

[oikawaplssteponme]

Close as Strangers: pt 2

part 1

pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

warnings: swearing, breakup, suggestive content

genre: angst with a happy ending

a/n: hi hi! i cant believe so many of you wanted a part 2 so here it is! you all seem to like how i write for bakugou which means a lot💕!! i once again hurt my own feelings a little bit with this one but it has a better ending than part 1 hehe. enjoy xx

•

Silence is the absence of noise. Sadness is the absence of joy. Fear is the absence of courage. Just because you are quiet at one point, doesn’t mean you will stay quiet forever. Just because you are sad at one point, doesn’t mean you’ll never be happy again. Things can go missing for short periods of time or even long ones but one thing is for sure; they always come back eventually.

You were the absence of Katsuki Bakugou. He was gone. No longer in your vicinity. Every time you saw him, he felt more like a ghost than a person. Lurking around, observing you. You supposed that’s what always happens when you break up with someone. They become a memory that you wish to kept stored and never remember. Just looking at their face can give you a pit in the bottom of your stomach. Breaking up with someone is a weird concept. The person you love most can become the person you never want to see again over night. Especially when things end the way they did between you and Bakugou.

His silence was deafening. It seemed that his silence said more than his shouting or screams ever did. His promises were just as empty. He promise to do better. He promised to make things better. However, he didn’t. You always took Bakugou as a man who stuck to his words. Maybe he stuck to his word more when it didn’t come to you.

You thought that distracting yourself with others would help. You spent a lot of time with Deku. He was a good guy after all and he gave you a lot of attention, which was something you had been missing. The two of you weren’t together though, no matter how badly Izuku wanted otherwise.

~

“Y/N!”

You looked over your shoulder to see Deku rushing towards you with one of his dashing smiles.

“Oh hi...”

He took a seat next to you on the common area couch, putting his arm around you.

“How are you? I didn’t see you much today,” he said. You shrugged.

“I’m alright, just been busy I guess.”

“Oh okay. Well we can hang in my room if you’d like?” suggested Deku. As tempting as sitting in a room filled with All Might posters sounded, you wanted to be alone.

“I actually don’t feel that great so I think I’m just gonna go to sleep,” you explained. You got up from the couch.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You laid flat on your bed, staring at your ceiling. One part of you was telling you to just go to Izuku’s room, the other was telling you to go to Bakugou’s. Both seemed like the wrong answer.

You turned to your side. On top of your desk was a picture frame. The picture was backwards. You flipped the picture frame over and began to open it up.

It was a picture of you and Bakugou. You had fallen asleep on him in his room and he was out cold as well. He had left the door open, prompting his friends to enter his room and observe this softer side of Bakugou. They had snapped a picture, which was the one you couldn’t bring yourself to throw away.

You felt guilty for feeling these feelings. You shouldn’t miss him. Yet here you were, missing the boy who broke your heart beyond repair. What held you back from dating Izuku was that he wasn’t Bakugou.

You set the picture frame down and slipped on a jacket and some shoes. Quietly, you left your room and allowed your feet to take you where they pleased. That inevitably led you to his door.

Your fist hovered maybe a millimeter away from his door. You were so close to knocking, unsure if you wanted him to answer or not. You took a deep breath before placing two small taps on his door.

He was probably asleep. He would probably get mad if you woke him up. You knew you should leave. What happens if he answers? What happens then?

“H-Hi...”

Bakugou’s eyes widened when he recognized that it was you at his doorstep. You were shaking, unsure if it was from nerves or the cold air the swarmed the dorms.

“I’m sorry for bothering you...I-l’ll leave-” you ran from his door so quickly. Your feet led you outside the dorms and to the training ground.

There was a sense of comfort at the training ground. That was probably why you would always come here whenever you were upset. It was like reminiscing in what used to be, and how much you missed it.

“You’re predictable.”

You looked up at Bakugou, who stood in front of you, his hands in his pockets.

“Why’d you follow me?”

“Hey you ran from me. No shit I’d be curious as to why.”

Bakugou held his hand out to you.

“Come on, let’s talk inside.”

~

You sat on Bakugou’s bed. From the months you had been apart, his room hadn’t changed a bit. His desk had a picture frame on it, however it was turned around.

Bakugou took a seat at the edge of his bed, while your back was pressed against his bed frame.

“You wanted to talk. So talk,” you said plainly. Bakugou huffed.

“Why’d you knock on my door?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Bullshit Y/N.”

“I can’t give you a good answer,” you whispered.

“You don’t get to decide if the answer is good or not. I do, so just spit it out.”

You shook your head.

“God that damn nerd must have a hell of a lot of patience dealing with you...”

“Fuck you.”

“So that’s why you came to my door? Fair enough,” he chuckled. You clenched your fists.

“Deku and I aren’t together,” you shot back. This got a reaction out of him. Bakugou moved closer to you.

“Good, because that nerd doesn’t know you the way I do.”

“You don’t know me at all, since half of the time when we were together you would ignore me.”

Bakugou moved closer again.

“So you’re just gonna scold me for everything I did wrong when we were together?”

“That would take too long.”

“Then why are you here?”

You leaned in to be closer to Bakugou’s face. You looked him dead in the eyes.

“I’m clingy, remember?”

“Hey I apologized for that-”

“You could apologize a million times more but that doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t fix us or what we could’ve been or what we were. You and your apologies are meaningless to me,” you said.

“Meaningless? Really?”

“Really.”

“Well if I’m so meaningless, then why haven’t you left yet? Why are you sitting so pretty on my bed? Legs crossed, eyes wide. I’m not so sure Y/N, something is telling me there’s more to this,” smirked Bakugou. Your stomach clenched.

“Just answer me this.” Bakugou moved to have you pressed against the bed frame again, his hand on the frame next to your head. You gulped.

“Me or him?”

“That’s not-”

“Answer me.”

Bakugou’s breath was hot on your face. You both knew the answer, only you knew it was the wrong one. This interaction with Bakugou was probably more than you two ever spoke in your last week of dating.

“What happens after I answer? Nothing changes,” you said.

“If nothing is gonna change, why are you so hesitant?”

You sighed.

“I want things to change. I want you to change.”

“I’ll change-”

“No you won’t. You say you will but we both know you won’t. The second I leave this room, you and I will be as close as strangers, just as we always were. I gave you second chances but I can’t give you anymore. I can’t give myself that false hope that you’ll do better, because you won’t,” you cried.

Bakugou sat back. His demeanor changed from confident to melancholy.

“I hate seeing you with him. I hate it!”

“Katsuki-“

“You picked him to hurt me, didn’t you? You’re not suppose to be with him. You’re supposed to be with me-”

For once, you wanted silence. The only way you could think to get that desired silence was to shut Bakugou up.

The only way you thought to do that was to kiss him.

Shut him up with the lips he used to beg to kiss. With the clashing of teeth and tongue you both so desperately craved. Your hands held Bakugou’s cheeks as you kissed him. He pulled you towards him. His hands gripped tightly onto your waist as you sat on his lap. Your hands now tangled in his hair. His hands exploring every inch of you that he had missed so much. Oh how he kissed you. Certainly he was doing that better at least.

You and Bakugou had to gasp for air.

“Please Y/N... don’t pick him...”

You looked at Bakugou. He had puppy dog eyes. His lips began to quiver and he quickly buried his face into your chest.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry...”

He continued to mutter these apologies to you. He cried so softly into your chest. You shushed him, rubbing his back to calm him down, kissing the top of his head. He tightened his grip around your waist, holding onto your t-shirt.

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay...”

Bakugou hugged you so tightly. He wasn’t gonna let you slip away again.

“Bakugou look at me,” you ordered. His red eyes looked into yours. You gently wiped away his stray tears.

“I don’t know what you want me to do. Of course I want you. I never stopped wanting you. But I want the version of you that I fell in love with, not the one that broke my heart. And that’s the problem. I don’t know which one I’m going to get.”

Bakugou shook his head.

“Please don’t leave, please don’t leave me. Everyone always leaves so I try to leave first but I won’t this time. I won’t mess up. I can’t bare to see you with anyone else but me...”

“I don’t like it either. I’m trying to move on but it’s really hard...”

“Please I’ll do anything to have you back...absolutely anything...”

“I just need you to do better... and not just promise to do it, I need actions Katsuki...”

“Yes, yes, I’ll do it. I swear. Y/N please...I love you.”

Your eyes widened, then began to shed its own tears. You hugged Bakugou again.

“I love you Bakugou.”

You showered the blond boy with endless kisses, unsure what else to do. You really did love him. That fact never changed.

“I promise.”

“Okay.”

~

The next day, Katsuki Bakugou did better.

•

[general taglist (form in masterlist) : @lealofsblog @iwaisa @bakugousmymassa @roesaurus @evivn1 @tetsoleil @bokutory @vangoghmusings @moonlightaangel @complimentaryhugsgirl @marajillana @luluwiie @tanakasprayer @bibly @big-phat-cat @sapphoscolonoscopy ]

[too-scared-to-do-this]

Of the Devil’s head

(Bonus) Chapter fourteen - In search for Happiness

Sander’s sides fanfiction

Wordcount: 2228

Ship: prinxiety 

TW: cursing, hurt, very vague description of sickness and dying, Remi being my version of Remi, some cute angst I guess - but not really. If anything else, just let me know :3

Summary of the whole story: They say, the one that wears the crown rules all - the living, the dead, the walking, the crawling, the rooted, the sane and the mad. They say, once you own the crown, you become the  most powerful being on Earth and beyond. Roman’s stolen bigger things - a measly little crown won’t present a problem, even if he has to steel it straight off of the devils head!

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

Chapter fourteen - In search for Happiness

It’s been four years since Roman left Hell.

Four years since he last saw his bellowed Devil. Virgil.

How nice that name rang in his head. He smiled to himself as he pushed yet another branch out of his way. The forest seemed to have gotten thicker since the last time he walked this rout. (Which was like two weeks ago.)

It’s become somewhat of a habit - walking around the kingdom looking for the entrance every couple of weeks - after he didn’t find it in the forest the next time he went.

Apparently, those signs weren’t bullshit after all. The entrance relocated as often as the moon changed positions…

But Roman made a promise. And when this former thief makes a promise, he keeps it.

So he pushed on, branch after branch, tear in the shirt, a thorn in the palm.

He just hoped the signs would actually show up at some point and his search wouldn’t end up, once again, useless.

It was getting colder, the sun setting through the crowns of the threes. Roman looked up for a second. He would have to turn back soon-

Aaaand he was falling.

Where? He had no idea. How? Not sure. Why? Again, he was clueless. But was he screaming? Without a doubt. “Fucking Heeeeell!!!!”

“Ow…” he hit the ground with a thud. It must have been at least a couple of feet that he fell. How the hell did he not break anything?

Wait! He moved his libs cautiously. No. Nothing broken. But bruised and purple in the next few hours, for sure!

God, his lungs hurt! The impact knocked the air out of them. He rolled onto his back.

And now, Roman was just laying clueless, looking at the irregular ceiling of the whole. With spears pointed at him.

“Am…” he swallowed. “Hi.”

At least he knew where he was now.

The Demons didn’t even budge. just stared at him with all their weird eyes.

“-and that just made him redder! like, hon, you literally can’t imagine! He was red! I’m telling ya! Red!  And then I said, ‘It’s not like I was talking about his dic- oh my Hades!”

Oh, beautiful Persephone… Why?

“No way! You actually came back! What a fucking surprise!” Remi crouched over the poor being. “I didn’t expect to see you ever again. Nobody did honestly. You seemed too… how would I say this - simple minded? - to find your way back? But look at you! In parts but in Hell!”

“You know this thing?” one of the guards granted.

Remi turned to him, all offended. “Excuse me - know? I not just know him! We’re good friends! So step back, idiots. He’s under my protection.”

“Gods, I forgot you even existed…” Roman groaned collecting all his bones off of the floor.

Remi just grinned. “Love you too, boo. You’ll take me out for a coffee as thanks.”

“What, you can walk freely in and out of Hell now?” the former thief once agan groaned as he sat up fully.

“Give it a couple of years and I will! But anyways, it’s good that you’re here.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah! The guards were starting to bore me.”

“Well.” why was he not even surprised? “Where’s Virgil?”

“Oh yeaaah, he’s still alive. I completely forgot about him.”

“How can you forget about your own Devil?”

Remi shrugged, glasses somehow glistening even though there was literally no light down here. “He’s not much of a Devil now. More like what’s left of him.”

Roman’s brows furrowed. He pushed himself onto his feet, wincing a little. Maybe not broken, but pretty hurt. “What do you mean?”

“He’s an idiot, that’s what I mean.” the Demon shrugged again, fanged grin sliding back onto place. “Aaanyways!” he started walking of to Gods-know-where. Roman hurried after as fast as he could. “How much did you hear after you fell? Cause, like, it get’s juicy and I don’t want any missing details!”

“Am… Where are we going exactly? Are you taking me to him? And, what are you talking about?”

“Whatever. I’ll just start from the beginning! So, there I was all like-“

An interesting fact about the Human brain is that it is able to shut out everything once you are deep enough in thoughts. But, no matter how loud your thoughts get, or how deep you dig yourself, you can’t shut out Remington.

So Roman had no choice but to listen to that annoying being yapping on about - surprise, surprise - coffee.

It’s been four years. Makes you wonder how longs he’s been chewing people’s ears of with his “struggles”.

The liveling’s sense of time wasn’t the greatest. But he’s sure it’s been more then an hour that they’ve been walking. It must have been! Right?

It was ten minutes. But Roman didn’t know that.

It wasn’t even Remi’s fault. He kinda liked the guy. In a twisted, self-deprecating way.

“-oh yeah! And he was like ‘Well if you want it so bad! Why don’t you just go and get some?! And I was like ‘I can’t! I’m fucking stuck in Hell! And that was meant as literally as metaphorically, believe me! But anyways.” the demon stopped. “This is you. Enjoy him while you can!”

“You’re not coming?”

“Oh nooo! I don’t want to be around that slump. He bums me out!” Remi shook his head vehemently. And the murmured something under his breath that roman just barely caught. “Besides, I can hear him thinking even from hear. I don’t need to be that close.”

“So… I can just walk in?”

“Oh, sure babe! You’ve got nothing better to do anyways. Unlike me. So, byeeeee!” and he was off, long strides across the endless hallway. His hips moving completely over-done with every step.

Roman gulped. Looked at the giant wooden double door.

He’s been waiting for this exact moment for the past four years. Behind these doors was the being he loved.

He didn’t even hesitate.

With much more force then he expected to need he pushed the doors open and walked in.

The familiarity of this place was truly scare. His eyes glided over the place he tried to hide behind the stone beams. The place they sat together, him admiring the beautiful sight of Virgil’s wings. (Somewhere in the background he heard a tiny hiss, but he didn’t really register it.)    

The magnificent high ceiling.

And the throne. The cold, uncomfortable stone throne. And on it, Virgil. Cooped up in a loose ball, his back to Roman.

Roman couldn’t help the happy laugh that bubble out of him. “Virgil!”

The being stiffened. Was that… could that really be…? He sat up, too fast for his body’s liking and turned his head towards the voice. He gasped quietly and shakily. “You…”

And there he was, the most beautiful and kindest creature Roman has ever seen. Looking at him with his wide cloudy eyes as if he was a dream. And all that idiot managed to say was: “You look like shit.”

Virgil just raised an amused eyebrow. “Thanks, but you’re not better yourself.”

“Ah well, you know. I just went through literal Hell to get to you.”

“I’ve been living in ‘literal Hell’ all my life. I think I win.” the Devil snickered, ending with a cough. “But seriously. You gotta get those scars checked out. I’ll call for the medics.” he pushed himself off of that throne, made two steps and fell backwards. Back against the throne. “Yeah. Maybe not.”

“Gods, what happened to you?” Romans worried voice rang through the whole place. “I though Devil’s are supposed to be immortal!” he rushed over to the being.

“Ah well, you know. Not when there’s a Human running around with their name constantly on his mind.” V shrugged. As if it was nothing. As if the fact that his non-life wasn’t about to end in like a year. It was supposed to be a least twelve years of life - apparently roman couldn’t get him out of his head, not even for a moment.

“So… You’re dying?”

“Kinda, I guess?”

“But… if the name is so important, why did you tell me?”

“Am… I kinda saved your soul after you left? I erased yours so you’d be able to go to Heaven once you actually die. I didn’t really think you’d come back. And living millennia knowing you won’t ever see someone you love…” the Devil cast his eyes down. “…yeah…”

“You erased my name from your memory?”

“Yeah.”

“That annoying little demon was right. You’re a complete moron.” Roman sighed exhasparatedly.

Virgil blinked. “Excuse me, what?”

“You’re an idiot. You’re a complete and utter idiot.”

“Because I tried to save your soul…?”

“What even made you think I’d want to go to heaven?”

The Devil pursed his lips. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe that panic attack you had when you saw all those damned souls getting tortured?”

Roman stared at him. Eyes cold and face neutral. And then he smacked his lips. “Okay. That’s a valid reason.”

“Well, I know!”

“But still. It doesn’t give you the right to decide for me. I should get to decide where I want to end up. And that’s here. With you.”

Virgil just watched the nameless Human crouching in front of him.

“Besides. I made a promise. And Roman always keeps his promises.” the liveling smiled.

Roman. Yeah. That was his name.

Suddenly all the memories of him saying Roman’s name rushed back into Virgil’s mind. He loved that name. “Now your soul will forever be doomed to stay here…”

“I don’t really mind actually.” Roman shrugged and settled down next to his demon pulling him close.

The shorter creature instinctively curled up at his side. He missed this. He missed him.

“So, there’s no curing you?”

“Not that I know off…” Virgil shrugged sadly. “I’m sorry…”

Roman pulled him even closer, careful with how fragile his dear seemed. “We’ll come up with something. I promise.”

“And you always keep your promises.”

“Yes, I do!” Roman grinned.

A moment of silence comfortable silence passed. Full of happiness but heavy with fear of what’s next… Then the former thief asked: “Was there a moment you regrated erasing my name?”

“Hm.” that signature nose-laugh. Roman missed that. “A couple actually. I really wanted to believe you’d come back eventually. The first time I ran straight to Remington and begged him to tell me your name.”

“And?”

“And I said: ‘I donno, who cares?’” Remi stepped through the open doors, hips swinging - like the true deva he is. Something in his hands. “No offence, hon, but I forgot the moment you mentioned it. Unlike me, you’re not the most memorable.”

“And yet you remember me.” Roman smirked.

“Agh. You disgust me, Human.”

The sitting pair just laughed. “What’s up Remi? Haven’t seen you around much.” Virgil asked, voice noticeably weaker than the last time Remi had heart it.

“Look what I’ve got.” he grinned letting the thing he was holding fall to their feet with a loud bang. A book.

Remi sat down in front of it. “You were getting really annoying with that ‘I’m so dying’ act. Honestly, Virgie, you were even more boring than before this thing showed up.” he rolled his eyes, nodding towards Roman. “So, I actually read a book. God I was so bored! But anyways, you see, in my reading -“

“Wait, you actually read?” V’s expression was so surprised it almost made Roman laugh. But he had the decency the at least conseil it as a cough.

“Well, I forced the souls to read it for me and then threw them into the pit if it wasn’t interesting enough.

“Now that makes much more sense.” the Devil laughed.

“As I was saying, in my reading, stumbled upon this one. It talks about name-power and all that jazzy stuff.”

“That’s great Remi, but why are you telling us?”

“Just wait a little, will you? I’m getting there! There’s a cure.”

“A cure?” Roman peeped up, eyes and voice both full of hope. “As in to save Virgil?”

“Yeah. Turns out you just gotta say your name again.” Remington shrugged, leaning back. His job was done. Now he could go back to not caring ever again. It is exhausting.

“Well, we did that and nothing.” the Human breathed, happiness flailing away. Virgil also seemed a little more bummed. But the devil never let’s his hopes up high, so they don’t fall too low.

“Hollow-head! Nothing happens overnight! Give it a couple more days. Like a weak or two. And you’ll be good as new.” the demon grinned at the king.

“So he’s going to be okay?” Roman asked shivering with happy anticipation.

“Yes. Now excuse me. I gotta get this back to Gory - I stool it from the library when she wasn’t looking.” Remi stood up clearing his throat. Signature grin in place, book under his armpit.

He was almost out the door when a fleeting thought of Virgil’s caught his ear. “Thank you.”

Remi looked back at the Devil. He was smiling at Roman, who talked animatedly about Hades-knows-what. he hasn’t seen him smile like that in literal forever.

For the first time, Virgil seemed truly happy.

Remi turned back and walked out the door. He wasn’t needed anymore.

“Always.”

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

That old chatter-box really cares! He spent month digging through that monstrous library to find anything about the names - but he would never actually admit it.

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

Surprise, surpruse!!

A bonus chapter! Because I’m not that cruel XD

But in all honesty, I personally, while loving a good happy end, rather read a story with some open-ended angst. Makes me angry? Yes. Makes me want to come up with all these scenarios it could continue with? Absolutely! So yeah...

I would’ve uploaded this sooner, but had the most full and stressful and yet relaxing week ever (Don’t ask me how that works. I am still confused.), So here it is now :)

Thanks for sticking around guys! Love you! <3

And as always, hope you enjoyed :3

-

Tag list:

@romano-hottopic

@vpow

@a-formless-entity

@lovelivingmydreams

@alice-only-me

[bowieandqueen11]

I’m What’s Wrong / Jonas Kahnwald Imagine

Request: I was wondering if i could request a jonas kahnwald imagine ☺ maybe fluff and angst. Where jonas and the reader have like a thing and are falling for each other in the middle of all the conflicts, and jonas tells her that if he fixes everything he's going not going to exist anymore... and its all angsty and sad but fluffy and they kiss and its all romantic but angst 😂🙈 

Thank you for this request @sh4desofsadness, I’m so so excited for season 3 and to start getting out of my Dark requests! <3

I’m also tagging @tink-crash​ because you’ve always been so kind to me and I’m sorry I haven’t written for Dark in so long!

Warning, some strong language!

Comments are much appreciated!

As a child having the displeasure of growing up in Winden, you could only remember waking up in the middle of the night breathless, searching for the sun. For a light.

The darkness had always worried you. Enveloping, suffocating, filled with beasts and monsters banging against the phantom line between the bright and the dark you could never tell if were real or not. But after the last few weeks, you knew they were more real than most things in your life, whether you wanted them to be or not.

Standing in the middle of the Kahnwald’s kitchen, you pray to every God you can think of for letting Hannah Kahnwald be out at the moment. Mainly, because you couldn’t bear the stifling silence between the two of you in this house since Jonas disappeared a couple of days ago. Secondly, because the black gun hanging from your fingertips, you’re pretty sure, belongs to her. 

Backing away, you nearly cry as you drop the gun onto the table, afraid for a moment, as it spun towards you, that you had accidentally triggered it. However, for the moment, the only pain you feel is your back pressing into the dirt encrusted, tea stained counter, and the thumping of your heart against the back of your throat. Fumbling your fingers behind you until you come into contact with one of the Jonas’ chipped mugs, you cling onto the edge of the counter, staring at the mess in front of you. Wondering how in hell you ended up here, with your boyfriend missing, Mikkel disappearing, some strange man wandering around that you just couldn’t - wouldn’t - believe could be your Jonas. None of the pieces would smash themselves into place in your head.

So instead, you just stand there in shock, staring at the kitchen table that stands silently in the middle of the wooden floor. This kitchen table has seen every emotion, from the sweet silent happiness of family times when you used to come over for dinner: one of the rare times Michael would make an appearance and sometimes even cook, to the rage of lies and secrets that bursts out in these hardest times. The splinters of wood from beneath peaks through, shards tearing at the surface trying to break free. In this dark room, only the ticking of the wall clock had a relaxed feeling, as if it was waiting for its ticks to finally run out.

From where you stood, you hadn’t noticed a weathered figure place his key in the door and come back into his home. Under the relentless Winden heat that he had spent years oppressed under, the boy’s raincoat had come to weigh more than his creaking skeleton. The only words that passed his withered lips, as he stepped into the hallway and caught sight of you, was a cry. A desperate, distraught sound that broke your heart in two before you had even spotted him.

‘J-Jonas is that you? Can it be? H-how- you look so different-’

Jonas turned his head slowly to glance at his reflection in the murky kitchen window: all he could tell from what his bleary eyes managed to see was that his normally flat hair was more like a bird’s nest - long and shaggy and stuck up, running down his cheeks to meet his scar and tickle across the dirt flecks on his cheeks. He didn’t remember this happening. It was so hard to remember anything. 

Before you could even collect yourself, you’ve run forward and grabbed the lapels of his coat: the coat that was so blue and tarnished, like a midwinter night an hour before pitch dark, before the dying of the light. Yet even under your chilled fingertips the fabric was far from soft. The look in his eyes as you glanced up at him, clinging onto him like a desperate child and him reaching up to grab onto you twice as fervently, was one of total loss. Jonas Kahnwald had never felt so alone, so incapable of doing even the smallest tasks. And this was only the beginning, the beginning of the pain, the suffering and the endless cycle of events that he had unwittingly set into motion that would lead to your doom. 

He would be damned if he wasn’t going to stop it.

‘Y/n- I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do anymore. How to fix this - my mistake - what I did to my father, what I’ll do to you-’

‘Hey, who did this?’

Your fingers danced over a narrow pillow of milky white bandage just below his strict jaw, the pad of your thumb smoothed over the rope burn wrought into his neck. You fought the nervous swirls that braided in your stomach, trying to speculate about something alternate, but you couldn't undo the images that were embedded in your troubled mind. 

‘Who did this to you?’, you whisper, but he only grabs onto your hand and pulls it down until its resting against his stomach.

‘That’s not important, Y/n. I need to tell you now, right now, that I’m sorry.’

‘What on Earth for Jonas? You’re not Adam, not yet, and though I don’t really understand what’s going on, we’re going to fix this.’

‘That’s what I’m sorry for, Y/n. In order to fix all this - all this shit that I’ve caused - I need to die. I need to not exist anymore Y/n-’

‘But that’s not- that’s not true! That’s not possible! I’ve already bumped into an older version of you-’

‘And he needs to go as well Y/n! He’s just as much a part of the problem! That’s the point! I’m the problem, I never should have existed in the first place!’

His words, his words are harsh but god, his eyes are so different in moments like these, more soft than you knew eyes could be. 

‘I’m not leaving you to do this alone Jonas. This isn’t your fate, I know it isn’t.’

‘I- I can’t.’ 

His jaw quivers as he sighs out deeply, trying so hard to bite back the tears that well up in the creases of his eyes. He doesn’t do anything for a moment, just biting his tongue, until he shuts his eyes and leans his forehead down until it gently rests against the tip of your own.

‘I’ve tried so hard to save you. So hard Y/n. I’ve tried everything I can think of, but you’re only okay once I’m gone. I need you safe, that’s the only important thing to me-’

‘Older you said something like that as well, before he rushed off to god knows where. This time, this ‘cycle’, just let me actually help.’

He looks at you, daring to look with his tear stained cheeks before time freezes. He rushes forward, almost without thinking, and kisses you. For a moment there’s no apocalypse, no time machine, no death, no suffering. Just the feel of his lips desperately pressing against your own, a small gasp leaving them as you reach up and grab onto the fringes of his hair, the two of you never wanting to let go.

Eventually, however, you do have to pull away, your pulse racing as you choose instead to rest your chin against his. You can still feel his tears tumble against the coolness of your skin, a small lock of his hair tumbling down in front of your face, resting just in front of your cheek. With one swift slide of your thumb, it was brushed out of the way. He reached down again, your fingers locking together similar to puzzle pieces, and you gave the boy you loved the only comfort you could think of giving in that moment. Pressing a chaste kiss to the side of his neck, you let go and allow your arms to open up, nearly falling over as his head crashes into the side of your neck and his hands make balled fists into the back of your shirt.

Yes, you could say for certainty that you were very glad Hannah Kahnwald wasn’t home. Because the empty sobs that echoed through the house belonged to the two of you, and the two of you only.

[drethanramslay]

Part 4: Fight or flight

Pairing: Aurora x MC (Iris Everette)

Word count: 3.2 K words

Part 1   Part 2    Part 3

Warning: Fluff and a little description of abuse

Taglist: @miyakokurono @agent-breakdance @trappedinfandoms @lilyofchoices @sekizincimektup (let me know if you want to be tagged)

Songs: Emergency by Jay Sean and Clean by Taylor Swift

It had been a week since their fight in the supply closet and Aurora was in a flux of emotions. On one hand, she wanted her baby girl back in her arms and kiss her till the end of time. But, on the other hand, she was just so fucking pissed.

Iris had not come home to the apartment for a week. She stayed, showered and ate at the hospital. Aurora kept true to her promise and gave Iris her space, but that didn't mean it hurt less. The seventh day after the fight, Aurora was distraught.

She had headed to Sienna's room that night and one look at her face and Sienna declared that it was the "eat ice cream till you are sick" time. They saw so many cliche rom-coms and crying which resulted in Elijah wheeling into their room to see if both of them were okay. "Oh my god... Rom-coms really?! They are shit."

"No Eli, they are the shit." Sienna corrected him.

"Get in or get out Eli." Aurora said as she sniffled.

"Geez okay I will join you two to see how can girls cry to such cliche storylines."

Nonetheless, the three of them started crying towards the ending of Titanic.

"Rose is such a dumbass.. Like how COULD YOU LET SUCH A NATIONAL TREASURE DIE?!" Elijah screamed at the TV.

"Yo...I think we broke him." Aurora said as Elijah continued to cry.

"Nah... He will be fine. But what about you?" Sienna asked as she turned towards Aurora.

"Everything sucks."

"Big mood." Elijah chimed in.

"It's just...it feels like I am in a waiting room." Aurora sighed. Sienna sent a questioning gaze towards Aurora.

"It's like... Iris continuously hints about her past. I like her so much....I really do but, she just won't let me cherish her completely. She won't let me in.. She has just put me in that space where I know more that the anybody else but less to know her completely. I know I shouldn't complain, but..... I hate seeing her in so much pain and I want to erase the sufferings. I was to kiss her troubles away. I want to tell her that I am all in, that I will be with her, through thick and thin... But, she still holds me at an arms distance." Aurora sighed, as the pain resurfaced.

"Aww honey...." Sienna reached and hugged her. Aurora shuddered and the need to cry just became so overwhelming.

"I have known Iris for a year and half and let me tell you, she has changed. She laughs more, jokes more and smiles more. She was a withered bud but when you came into her life, she bloomed into a beautiful rose. Iris... had never had many people she could be herself around or count on. I think her mother was the last person who she truly was the real version of Iris, but after that, nobody. So she grew thorns, so that nobody can hurt her again. She had accepted the fact that she was going to be a alone forever. But then, you came. You transformed her. It's a damn great accomplishment if you ask me." Sienna said.

Aurora blew a raspberry. "Trust me I know that. And I am proud of her for slowly opening up. She is self sufficient, independent and so so strong...but she doesn't need to carry that burden alone. I want to share everything. The happiness, the sadness, the beautiful and the ugly. She deserves so much more..."

"I know Aurora I know... I spoke to her a couple of days ago."

"What happened?" Aurora asked, hoping that she didn't sound too pussy whipped.

Stop lying to yourself... You ARE pussy whipped.

"She looks like she got hit by a train. She had dark circles large enough to carry groceries, she zones out sometimes and she is really, really paranoid. Like the other day, Bryce just went to close her eyes, so that he could surprise her. She fucking grabbed his hands and had him on his ass in a blink of an eye!!"

"What?!" Aurora was shocked. This was certainly a new development. She thought to herself.

"I am not joking. Luckily everything is fine but damn, Queen B has some nasty bruises on his wrist."

"Shit." Maybe, just maybe there was something else affecting her and the 'break' was just the cherry on top.

Fuck I am such a selfish bitch..

"Don't." Sienna said before Aurora threw herself into the pit of self loathing.

"Huh?"

"Don't feel guilty. Don't beat yourself. You need to understand that you are pushing her to be a better person, a better friend, a better partner. You are constantly challenging and calling her out. And I believe, that the kind of love you both have, it can survive any storm."

"Love?!" Aurora asked, her eyes as wide as saucers.

"Duh! Everybody can see it that the both of you are completely and utterly in love. Everybody, but the two of you."

"Do you think its true?" Aurora asked, trying to wrap her mind around this concept.

Sienna rolled her eyes before muttering, "Gods, for two smart people with their IQ's above 120, you guys are hella dense."

Aurora looked down at her hands, deep in thought. She was never familiar with the concept of this kind of love. Sure, she 'loved' her parents and family, but love another human being? That to romantically? Never.

She was of a scientific background and she always brushed aside the concept of love. Earlier if you would have asked her ‘what was love?’ she would have said that it was just a rush of oxytocin. Just a flux of chemicals. But now, if she were to close her eyes and think about it, forest green eyes stared right back at her.

"Holy shit." Aurora breathed out.

"God finally EEEEEEE!! One down, one more to go. Just know, I am rooting for the both of you." Sienna said as she squeezed her hand.

"Also can you like hurry up and make up? I might end up losing fifty dollars to Bryce." Elijah chimed in.

"This guys have been BETTING on when we make up?!" Aurora asked in disbelief.

"Eli, SHH!" Sienna smacked him, bullshiting back and forth. But Aurora didn't pay attention to that.

She was in love.

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

Iris stepped to the back of the empty elevator and leaned against the wall, sighing. This week had been shit for her. Her girlfriend had called for a timeout, her asshole of a father was walking free on the streets, she had a panic attack, and she lost a patient.

She hated being so paranoid. She hated having to look over her shoulder every minute. She felt so guilty for hurting Bryce, and she profusely apologized by buying him his favourite tacos.

She shouldn't have to stay in such fear. Hadn't she suffered enough? Hadn't she lost enough already? Is her life nothing but a game for the man upstairs?

Being of a scientific bent of mind, the laws of her world were bound by logic and proof. She never really believed in the existence of God. But at moments of weakness, like now, she couldn't help but wonder who is responsible for fucking her life up.

The lift dinged, and she opened her eyes to see which floor it had opened on. But what she saw, made her eyes open wide.

Rory met her eyes and then looked down as she stepped into the lift. She pressed the button for the fourth floor where Iris was also heading.

"By the way, chief said that there is a storm incoming. He wanted everyone to be prepared incase of an emergency." Iris spoke up, cutting through the uncomfortable silence.

"Yeah...my aunt told me that. It also explains why they sent Dr. Ramsey and a couple of electricians to check on the backup generators."

Iris chuckled. "Yap. You should have seen the way he was grumbling and muttering quote unquote- 'God I hate that place...it gives me the heebie jeebies'."

"What?! No way!" She turned around to look at Iris, instantly regretting it. Iris looked like shit. Her eyes were bloodshot and she was so tired that she had to lean against the wall of the elevator for support. 

"If you don't believe it, I can ask Baz to send the video to you. Chief had a kick out of it."

Aurora giggled. "Okay, send it to me Adara."

Iris winced and Rory turned towards the elevator doors, the awkward silence settling in. It was slowly suffocating her. She thought that the deafening silence would continue indefinitely, but Aurora spoke up.

"I just...I miss you."

Iris looked up to see the back of Rory's head.

"I miss you too Rory..."

Aurora's heart soared and shattered at the same time. God she missed that nickname so much.

"Adara... Please. Just...please."

Iris shuddered. Just a simple plea, but it held so much meaning. She walked ahead and stood next to her. Aurora found herself leaning towards her, missing the warmth and comfort Iris gave her.

"Rory, I am so sorry... But I can't. It was never my intention to hurt you. You deserve someone strong and willing to be by your side... I am not that. My emotional burden will drown you."

"Adara, I will be the judge of that. If you just-"

"Baby, I care about you alot. And, I don't want you to get hurt... Just know that I am so damn lucky to have had you... for those seven months, I am so, so greatful." She proceeded to kiss Aurora's cheek, before exiting the lift.

Aurora was stunned. She reached to feel the place where Iris kissed her.

She couldn't help but wonder why Iris's words sounded like a final goodbye.

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

Everything was okay. There weren't any accidents so far and the electricity was still running. Iris sat in the diagnostics room staring at the window, watching the rain drops pelt mercilessly on the glass window and the trees dancing to the tune of the gale.

She always found the rain soothing. It helped her escape. She could spend hours looking at the rain drops, racing each other to the bottom of the window. Her mom used to make hot chocolate for her on such rainy days. They would cuddle on the sofa, and have endless movie marathons. It's one of the happy memories she remembered from her past.

She always cherished those moments with her mom. Life at home may have been hell, but her mother's spirit did not once break. She was so strong and brave. She was kind and loved with all her heart. Iris always wondered if she would ever be half the woman her mom was or the fact that would her mother be proud of the way Iris turned out to be.

Guess we will never know.

Her pager beeped and she looked down to see what it said. 'Report to the nurses station on the fourth floor. Your lawyer is here.'

Huh, that's strange. Thomas said that he won't come till next week..

Shrugging off her doubts she started heading to the fourth floor. She walked down the long, empty hallway whistling. It was just a front but deep down, she had a feeling that she was being watched. She turned to look behind but there was no one following her.

You are just being paranoid Iris... 

But isn't it better to be safe than sorry?

She turned the corner and she collided with someone.

"Oh, I am so sorry-" Iris said as she backed a little and straightened her scrubs. She then looked up and she was completely frozen. She felt as if she was sucker punched in the gut. All the breath left her body.

He was here.

"Oh no its my- Oh." A cruel smile slowly etched into his face. He had aged, which was pretty obvious but prison made him look rugged with white hair peppering his balding head and his eyes looked more maniacal.

"Hello mija."

She had dreamt their encounter many times before. How she would punch the fuck out of his face, and break his left wrist, the way he used to break hers. She would beat him up so hard that he would end up in the emergency room. Those imaginations were so graphic, that she could taste the blood of that monster on the tip of her tongue.

But, at the end of the day it was only fantasy. Dreams are those tantalizing flames, which help keep the fire in us alive, while reality on the other hand, is a bucket of cold water, smothering those flames.

She just stood there in shock. It felt as if her head had been dunked into water. She saw his lips move and the people walking around them, but she couldn't hear a thing. Her breath was getting shorter and shorter. She felt weak. Pathetic. Just like the sixteen year old who lay there on the floor, awaiting her death.

No, no, no, I can't go into a panic attack right now.

"IRIS!!" Grayson shook her shoulders. "NO! Get the fuck away from me asshole!" Iris said as she tried to push him away. She felt like a bucket of maggots had been poured inside her shirt. She felt dirty, filthy and gross.

"Iris what has come over you sweetheart? You weren't like this before.." Grayson said, his face morphed into fake concern but she could see the anger and the bloodlust shining in his hazel eyes.

"Don't TOUCH ME!!" She exclaimed as she finally got him to take his grubby hands off her. And he had the audacity to act hurt. This bitch should get a fucking award for his acting.

"Hey, hey, hey." Ethan stepped between the father and daughter. "Sir, I will have to ask you to back away right this instance." Ethan said, in a voice so cold, that it could have withered a blooming flower.

Grayson held his"There is nothing going around here son. Just a father and daughter reconnecting after a decade. Ain't that mija?"

"Don't listen to him. He is a world class manipulator and a habitual liar. Get him the fuck out of here." Iris spat out, her voice poisonous.

Ethan turned to look at her, his eyes asking if this was the man who she had a restraining order against. Iris nodded subtly.

"I'm sorry sir, but you are causing a scene in a hospital, where people are sick and they need the quiet."

"No problem so- what's your name?"

Don't tell him, don't tell him, don't-

"Dr. Ethan Ramsey."

GODDAMMIT ETHAN. Just can't keep his fucking trap shut. She knew, that he would come for Ethan.

"Well Ethan, I don't mean to cause any problems. I am just here to take my girlie for a coffee.. have a chat." He smiled in a friendly way but, everybody knows that the term 'chat' means thrashing.

"I SAID NO. I don't want anything to do with you asswipe."

"How dare you-" Grayson's face twisted into a furious scowl. Iris just cowered behind Ethan.

"Sir, with all due respect, leave." Ethan said as two security guards started moving towards them.

"Alright, alright. There is no need to be so aggressive. I am nothing but a old man. What would I do? Beat up someone?" The last question directed towards Iris, his eyes gleaming. A chill went down her back, out of intense fear.

"I will meet you soon mija... And when we will.... we will have all the time in the world to catch up."

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

Running.

Iris ran down the hallway, to a place where she could have some damn peace and quiet, which is kind of hard in a hospital crawling with patients, doctors and the grim reaper.

Her breath was getting frantic, and the need to breakdown was increasing with every step she took.

Get a hold of yourself Iris. It's just a little longer. You don't need to be a mess in front of him. You don't need him to have that power over you. Iris repeated that as a mantra as she half walked, half ran down the never-ending hallway, away from her haunting past.

She was just crossing the nurses' station where, Aurora stood, reading through her charts.

God, please don't notice me. I don't have it in me to face another heartbreak. Iris prayed.

A few nurses greeted her, and Iris nodded and smiled politely before her eyes landed on Aurora's cool, calculating ones. She quickly averted her eyes away, so that she would not betray the inner turmoil in her.

But, Aurora knew. Iris had that look in her eyes as if she would shatter like a porcelain vase. So, she shut her chart and followed the red head.

Iris had reached the lift, pressing the button continuosly, so that it could hurry the hell up. After what seemed like an eternity, it finally came and she stepped into the elevator. She pressed the button leading her to the basement.

There is a old on call room which is pretty faraway from the hospital's main rooms. So even if she broke things, screamed and howled, nobody would know.

She saw the doors closing and she let out a tired breath when Aurora nimbly slipped into the lift.

Can't I catch a fucking break?

"What happened, Iris? Seems like you saw a ghost. You look hella pale." Aurora asked as she leaned in the wall across Iris.

Iris grimaced. If only she knew that she was not very faraway from the truth.

"Nothing." She said as she looked down at the floor.

"I know it's not nothing, Adara." Aurora said quietly. Iris' eyes snapped up.

"Aurora please. Just let me be." Iris pleaded, looking up at the screen showing that she had just reached the second floor.

"Don't fucking lie to me.Something is going on, I can see it in your eyes." Aurora said as she stepped and stood before her.

She placed her hands on her cheeks, forcing her green eyes to meet with her dark brown ones. "Please tell me Adara. Please let me in. Please don't shut me out this time."

"Aurora....I don't want to hurt you. I am cursed. Don't waste tears on a dead woma-" She said as tears filled her eyes.

The lift shuddered to a stop. And it was dark for a moment before the emergency lights switched on. She turned towards Aurora, who was slowly realizing the situation they were stuck in.

The lift was stuck and so were the both of them. And this time, there was no escaping for Iris.

I had to type and retype this so many times because it just didn't feel perfect..

Anyways, the next chapter will be the finale and after that will be the epilogue. I am so excited ;)

like and reblog :)) let me know what you think

[nickmuch]

c.z.k. - high school (part 3)

PART 1 / PART 2

Note: Honestly, I have nothing to do at work atm, so I might update this daily. Can’t wait for Part 4! Bc I have finally some more Zion action planned.

Also: It might be prom season there, but you didn’t hear it from me. My favorite part to write was probably the one that took place after prom.

Aaand: mobile tumblr seems to ignore all the paragraphing I put into the text to indicate the end of a scene???? So it’s probably easier to read on the desktop version.

A week had passed since my outburst. If you thought that everything magically turned upside down and we lived a happy life riding into the sunset on our white horse, then you thought wrong. Absolutely nothing happened. I returned back to class that day, not even flinching from his words. And he came back a couple minutes later, both of us acting as if we didn’t just kiss. He went back to her and I went back to feeling like shit. The usual story.

I acted like it didn’t faze me when he approached my locker at the end of the school day. “So …” he began. “You and Edwin?”. His voice sounded nervous when he asked me. Scrunching up my face, I fully turned towards him. “Me and Edwin what?”. Sighing, he grabbed my arm making me look him dead in the eyes. “You guys together now? You both seem oddly close these days”. Wow, I couldn’t believe the words that left his mouth. “Congrats! You have officially lost your mind, Caleb” I started picking up my pace. The front door wasn’t too far from here, so I hoped he would just let it go and let me drive home in peace. I hoped for nothing because clearly, he and his long legs caught up to me rather quickly, opening the door to my passenger seat before sitting down. “Look, I’m sorry for everything. But honestly, I just wanna put this all behind us. I miss my friends and I feel like I can’t hang out with the group while you’re still mad at me” “I’m not mad at you, in fact I give zero shits about you. But if you have something to talk about with the boys, then do so. I’m not keeping you from seeing them. They were your friends first, so you have every right to chill with them. I just don’t wanna be included, s’all”. A tap on the window made us look up. There she stood, tight smile on her face and eyes cold like ice. “Aw shit” he said, hurriedly opening the door to get out and explain why in the name of God he was sitting in his Ex’s car talking. Since I seriously didn’t need to hear their arguing – which was bound to happen any second now – I quickly drove off.

“Prom is right around the corner. What do you mean you’re not going?! Yes, you are! Don’t leave me alone with these fools!”. Edwin was close to having a breakdown. All because I didn’t plan on going to prom. There was no reason to go, really. I had no date, it was way too cold In New York to walk around in a dress the whole evening, and I wasn’t in the mood anyways. “Eddie, I love you, but please don’t make me go. I would only destroy the fun” I begged, thinking that would change his mind. Wrong! Because Edwin was – well – Edwin. My excuses were exactly that: just excuses. And he knew. “Okay bebecita, I knooooow you don’t feel like going”. He was convinced that easily? Wow, okay. “But!”. Ah there it was. “We will have fun. Trust me! When have I ever lied to you?”. I mean, he was right. Whenever he said something was going to be fun, it actually turned out to be. “Fine, we’ll go! But make sure that Zion leaves me alone. He thinks we’re dating and I don’t feel like dealing with his headassery again”. Edwin’s eyes nearly fell out of his face. “What?! Oh my god, is he serious?”. A hearty laugh filled up the whole living room. “Mijo, not so loud!” his mom shouted from the kitchen, making him quit immediately. “Anyways” he plopped down next to me on the couch. “No offense, but even if you’d be the last girl in the world and we had to reproduce in order to save the human civilization, I still wouldn’t touch you” Edwin finished. “No offense taken. You’re not my type anyway” I casually said while not breaking my eyes off of the tv screen. Gasp! “I- what? I meant because you’re my twin sister! Not because of your looks!” he cried. “Uhm … oh y-yeah, that’s what I meant too …?”. No way I could save my ass out of this. He looked hurt for a second but didn’t seem to dwell on it when he used my lap as a pillow to watch the show. “Don’t be fooled, you still suck ass”.

The night of the prom, Edwin had officially turned into a bridezilla. Minus the bride, of course. His steps could be heard from everywhere in the house, like a ticking clock you couldn’t dismiss. It was driving me insane. It was driving us all insane. “Edwin, you need to calm down” I tried. “There’s no way! No. Way.” he frantically walked from one room to the other. “My clothes need to be ironed, you still aren’t in your dress- “. “It’s 2 p.m.!” my voice sounded squeakier than expected. “- … your hair’s a mess, face not beat, my hair is acting up, and the damn rental car is running late” he finished with one last breath before collapsing on my bed. “We won’t be on time. Just cancel on the boys for me, the stress isn’t good for the baby”. “What baby?!”. “Me. I’m baby”. I couldn’t believe my ears. This boy lost his mind. Narrowing my eyes at him, he challenged me back to a stare-down. “Listen here, egghead” An offended gasp left his lips. “You’ve been talking about this night for weeks. There’s no backing out now. Move your ass up and get your to-do-list, so I can help you with everything. We still have four hours left before the boys are supposed to be here. So, let’s start!”.

The white Range Rover came to a halt right in front of the school building. Loud music could be heard already, some new rap song playing in the background. “This is gonna be so lit!” Edwin bounced on his seat excitedly before jumping out and dragging the rest of us with him into the gym. The motto for this year’s prom was “neon festival”.The wall decoration was painted in a mix of fluorescent colors, which reflected every time the lights hit them. Bright yellow stars adorned the ceiling, some white smoke even coming out of a smoke machine. Everything was arranged so nicely, I couldn’t help but admire the great effort of the students who probably worked hard for this to come true. Now I understood why Edwin wanted to go so badly. Back home, our prom nights were pretty basic. No one could be bothered to put so much effort into an event, just for it to be over on the same night.

“Here, for you” Nick handed me a red solo cup, which was filled with some pink drink, accompanied by a cocktail umbrella. “Thank you” I said, turning my gaze towards the shining stars again. “I’m so sorry about what I’m gonna say next” he looked slightly uneasy, so I tried to calm him down by laying my hand on his shoulder. “Z and Asya will be joining our table. I mean, only if it’s alright with you”. As if on cue, my eyes wandered over to where I last saw the boys, seeing that – in fact – they were surrounded by the couple. All of them looked so happy, laughing and joking with each other. No matter what I felt towards Caleb, I had to set my pride aside and act nice from now on. The boys were longing to hang out with their friend again and I didn’t want to be the reason for a strain in their friendship.

“It’s alright with me” I replied. His hand cautiously wrapped around my hips, like he was scared of making me uncomfortable. “Lead the way, Mara”. He grinned at me. “Say no more, Honoret”. I rolled my eyes at the name. He knew I wasn’t really a Honoret, and yet everyone just called me that, totally ignoring all my attempts at correcting them.

Luckily, I got the seat between Edwin and Brandon. I didn’t know how to greet Zion and his girlfriend. She was too busy typing away on her phone to notice my arrival, anyways. So, I just gave him a short wave and a shy smile. “Looking nice” he said, motioning to my baby blue velvet bodycon dress. His girl was so busy, she didn’t even notice him complimenting another female. Either that, or she didn’t care. “Thanks Caleb, you too”. Coincidentally, he wore a dark grey suit with a baby blue pocket square. To not give awkward silence any room, Austin suggested to me to dance. Gladly taking his offer, we made our way to the dance floor. Soon enough, Edwin and Nick joined us, their dance moves putting me and him to shame. “You guys enjoying yourselves?” Brandon shouted over the music. I pulled him closer by his forearm to join us. “Very”. My grin however didn’t last. When I looked back to our table, I saw Zion all by himself. He looked bored, occasionally scrolling through his phone. “I’ll be right back” I told no one in particular before making my way over to the lone boy.

“Why so lonely, Kuwonu?” I nudged his arm. With a weak smile on his plump lips, he answered “Asya is preoccupied with her group of friends. I don’t really vibe with ‘em”. Nodding understandingly, I offered him to accompany me back to the others. “As long as you don’t hit the folks, we’re good” I playfully teased him. “Ha ha, very funny” Caleb sarcastically remarked. It was nice to talk to him without an attitude or tension building up. Maybe I overreacted a little bit in the last weeks. Having him around felt good, if you ignored the butterflies that erupted deep down in my stomach every time he looked at me or smiled his goofy grin. But we had our chance and it didn’t work out, that’s why I had to get over it. Better to have him as a friend than anything else. Right now, though, was about having fun and enjoying the company of good friends in a night that seemed to be endless.

The thing is, everything has an end. And so, I found myself in the booth of an old diner. The fake leather of the seats was peeling off and little bolts of cloth got stuck to our clothes. One of my legs was pressed against the window side, my other leg was touching Brandon’s involuntarily. Edwin thought a corner booth would totally suffice for all seven of us. Well, he thought wrong because now we were all huddled up, trying to get as comfortable as humanly possible with not much space between us left. Asya decided to not tag along, saying she was too tired from dancing with her friends all night.

“I hope they hurry up with our order, I’m starving!” Ansley sighed dramatically. Turns out, Austin was talking to her for weeks now, he just couldn’t build up the courage to ask her out yet. So, Edwin being Edwin, persuaded her to join our trip for a midnight-snack, claiming that “this pizza is going to be the best you’ve ever had!”. Judging from the interior design and the slack expression we were getting from the waiter, I highly doubted he was right. But then again, never underestimate Edwin.

“Okay, you were right. This is the best pizza I’ve ever had. Kudos to you, Ed” Ansley munched happily on her slice. Suspiciously examining the pieces in the center of the table, I couldn’t really put too much trust into her words. For some odd reason, the pizza had more grease on it than my face in the morning before washing it. “Just try it, she isn’t lying” Zion slid me a slice over. “If I die, tell Mama, Papa and the babies that I love ‘em” I told Ed before taking a bite. This was actually pretty good. Maybe not the best I’ve had, but it came close. “What makes this the best pizza in all of New York, though? It doesn’t taste that special”. The boys smirked knowingly, all eyes looking down trying to avoid my gaze. “It’s not necessarily the taste but rather the memories this place holds, you know? Back when we were younger, we’d spend our evenings after school here since our parents were working and we had no one to watch us in the meantime” Brandon nodded along to Edwin’s words, clearly remembering it all as if it had happened yesterday. “Can you imagine the mess we’d make?! Five little boys, full of energy rushing in to buy themselves some junk food, not a single care in the world” he paused for a moment, giving the others a short smile. The moment was filled with a melancholic retrospective feeling. “We literally grew up in this place. T’was safer to play and wait for our parents in here than at home or on the streets. I guess that’s what makes this so special to us” he shrugged. Sensing that he had finished the story, I nodded slowly, comprehending everything he just told me. “I like it here. Has charm to it”. Grinning widely, I took another bite to further prove my point.

People think of New York as this cool and hip city, with expensive luxurious apartments and such, but they seem to forget that not everyone is fortunate enough to live that life. Some of us have to learn from an early age that this world is full of bad people. Not everyone is going to wish you the best or give a helping hand. “We kinda are like OMB if you really think about it. Sure, no one is forcing us to join a gang or sum, but we do live a similar life” Zion threw in. “Actually, the weedhead might be onto something” B exclaimed. “You moving here out of nowhere” he said, pointing towards me. “Ed having to give up his room for you. A weird crackhead as a friend like Jamal” Now it was Edwin’s turn to be pointed at. “Hey! That’s rude! Besides, don’t do my bro Jamal like dat. He’s a great friend, always got their backs and shit” Ed tried to argue. “You’re a great friend, too. And an even better twin brother” I genuinely told him. A chorus of “Awwee”’s followed the round. “Now this is how you talk to friends! Take notes, ladies”. When he said ladies, he definitely wasn’t referring to me or Ansley.

The night itself turned out being amazing and I was glad that Edwin had convinced me to go to prom. We were talking about everything and nothing, really. Moments turned into minutes. Minutes turned into hours, and soon it was already time to leave. Ansley had to be home soon, so Austin took it upon himself to make sure she would arrive there safely. Edwin was craving donuts from the corner shop across the street, but since he couldn’t be trusted on his own, Brandon decided to follow him. “Is B really the right fit to watch him not do any shenanigans?” Nick asked warily. “… honestly, talking from experience, I should probably go with ‘em before their sugar high kicks in”. With that, I was left alone with Zion in the booth of a run-down diner in the middle of New York. Despite being in one of the biggest cities, the world suddenly felt so small around me.

“So …” Zion said, looking around the place. “So …” I mimicked. Shaking his head, he just laughed. “This is low key awkward, not gonna lie”. It was true. In a group we no longer had trouble talking, however when alone it was a whole another story.

“I’m sorry”.

“You say sorry way too much”.

“Maybe. But this time I wanna apologize for attacking you with that kiss last week”.

“It’s all forgotten”.

His mouth opened and closed, scared to say something but I knew there still was something he wanted to get off his chest.

The bell above the door frame signaled the arrival of someone. “Guess what I gotchu guys?!” Edwin trotted over, taking a seat on the table, so that he had both me and Z on each of his sides. A small brown paper bag rested on his lap. With one swift movement, he pulled out some twizzlers, and shoved them in our hands. “And we also bought you make up wipes!” happily Brandon said in a sing-song voice. Fishing out the pack, he handed them over to me. “I love you guys!”. Nick walked in last. “Yo, I’m slowly getting tired. Can we drive home now?” sleepily he rubbed his eyes, already pulling on Zion’s sleeve. Reluctantly, Edwin followed behind, even though all he wanted was to eat his candy. His sugar high was still going in full force. Therefore, he didn’t feel an ounce of sleep.

“Why the fuck is he so bouncy?!”Austin asked. We had called him earlier to ask for his location, so that we could pick him up and drive home as well. He climbed up the Jeep, sitting next to an energetic Ed. “Twizzlers?” he offered to his friend. “No, thanks. Also, please stop smiling so creepily, you’re scaring me”. This was going to be a long drive.

Note: Part 4 will have more Zion moments. The plan is to have only one or two settings, so hopefully it’ll work out as planned.

I’d love to get some feedback, good or bad doesn’t matter!! What direction would you want this to go? How would you like this to end? Let me know!

Cami

[sleepyreddie]

Richie Tozier X Reader Headcannons (platonic to relationship)

💗Pairing: Richie Tozier X Reader

Requested: YES - yoooo, how about some hc's about richie being fucking flustered when they first met reader¿ like idk at this point they are already teenagers or smth and he is known for being derry's heartthrob or something¿

a/n: flustered Richie is an art in itself. Thats all im gonna say. I love writing for my boy. Thanks for the request! Hope you enjoy! (I am so sorry this took so long oh my god)

🔥 Warning: (aged up, maybe 15-16)

Richie being Richie (aka dirty jokes and semi sexual innuendos)

Swear words

Word Count: 1643 (oh my)

Okay

Richie Tozier was like a magnet

To boys and girls alike

“Derry’s heartbreaker” was an earned nickname of his (along with Bucky Beaver and Trashmouth, of course)

He had built a name, as well as a persona for himself in the small town of Derry, Maine

That is, until you showed up

Because… damn

He had never seen someone so pretty hot

(he was one of the only people you had been attracted to within the first couple weeks of moving to Derry and starting at school because he was very nice to look at)

He was in a couple of your classes and the two of you took to staring at each other when the other wasn't looking

And then glancing away really fast so you weren't caught (spoiler, you always caught him)

The problem, however…

He had never really talked to you, minus simple questions about work

He prefered to admire from afar

Very far

Something about you made him very confused

He had talked to so many other girls before

And when I say so many, I mean SO MANY

But yet, he had never had this problem before

he was always so confident, but everytime he tried to string together a sentence around you he could barely get one word out

And for the first little while, you thought it was because he wasn't interested

You had heard of the rep he had built for himself

Some called him a ‘player’

‘Emotionally unattached’

‘Goes from girl to girl’

you figured that’s just the way he was

(Which was a complete disappointment because you found everything about him really attractive)

Like, e v e r y t h i n g

A n y w a y s

You were pleasantly surprised one day, when a boy named Ben Hanscom introduced himself to you and invited you to sit with him and his friends at lunch after the both of you tried to take out the same book in the library

So, the next day, he found you after class and you followed him to met the rest of the ‘Losers’, as he called them

And you almost felt your heart fall out of your body at the sight of the one and only, Richie Tozier, joking with whom you presumed to be Ben’s other friends

And you would not believe how surprised and excited he was when you sat down across from him

He physically had to restrain himself

Stay cool, Richie

“You guys, this is Y/N, she’s in my language class. She just moved here.”

The kids you didn't know started to introduce themselves - Stan, Bill and Beverly

you already knew Eddie from your science class. He had refused to participate in the frog dissection project, almost throwing up before he made it out the door. You didn't blame him. He seemed weak on his knees.

“And Richie, yeah. I’ve seen you around. We have Soc. together”

Remember how I said Eddie was weak on his knees?

Richie couldn't feel his knees

Or the rest of his body

Forget being cool

YOU KNEW HIS NAME

He was screaming on the inside

Beverly was instantly drawn to you because you were a girl

Richie was 50/50 on this

Because HE wanted to be the one talking to you and making you laugh because your face was so pretty when you laughed

But while you were busy talking to Beverly, he had time to stare

According to the Losers, this boy had no feelings whatsoever

But they had started to notice something different about him

Like he was being e x t r e m e l y spaced out

You didn't really notice, as he was always kind of that way around you

Sort of, a less crazy version

You found it strange, as the Losers always told you stories were Richie would do something crazy and it just seemed so unlike him because you had never really seen him act that way

One day, they knew something was up when Eddie said something that would have normally set Richie off into a spur or inappropriate jokes

This was definitely the day Richie realized there was a lot more to what he thought was just physical attraction to you

So Eddie spoke, and braced himself for Richie’s comments

But nothing

“Richie, did you hear what Eddie just said?”

“... mhm”

And then they realized he was staring

Right

At

You

“Richie, s-s-seriously? She's our friend, stop b-b-being such a loser”

“Shut it, Bill. Your a loser”

“Oh my god”.

“You like her.”

He got all red faced and sweaty palmed

“What? No, thats f-fucking - you g-guys, no, uh, no way w-”

“Okay Richie, you’re starting to sound like Bill”

And then everything kinda made sense to them

How he always stared at you when he said something to get a reaction

Or watched you for surprisingly long as you walked away

Or always seemed to walk next to you any time it was possible

And always talked about you when you weren't around

And that's when his friends realized something was actually wrong with him

Like, who was this love struck teenage boy?

They didn't even know that Richie was capable of feelings

He would have most definitely on multiple occasions bailed on asking you out

Because every time he saw you, he was speechless.

He took to staring at you every chance he got

People started to notice that Derry’s resident playboy had suddenly toned down his endless flirting and had stopped making out with new girls every day

No one, besides the Losers, knew why he had suddenly become so different

Him and his friends would stand in the hallway and you would walk by with Bev and holy shit Bill does she always look that pretty? Like I think those legs would be amazing wrapped around m-”

“Richie I swear to god if you don't ask her out, I will”

Richie knew Bill didn’t have the guts

But he also knew he didn’t have them either

He thought you were so amazing

At least that's what he told Eddie

All. the. Time.

And yet he did nothing about it

He wanted to, so bad

But he was worried he would just ruin everything

You, on the other hand, were convinced that the two of you would never happen

The boy had no problem flirting with other girls

But he didn't even really talk to you

you had given up on trying to make conversation with him

as he always got all... weird and awkward 

But then Bev convinced you otherwise

She knew Richie liked you and you liked Richie, but she found it much more amusing to not tell either of you

The Losers were kind of sick of it, because apparently it was blatantly obvious that the two of you were i n  l o v e

“No Ben, I’m not putting a note in her locker”

“Fine, I’ll get Eddie to do it for you.”

“Ben, no.”

One thing's for sure, he was a confused boy

He didn't understand how one person could make him feel the way you made him feel

He also didn't really understand why when he saw you laughing with Bill it made him want to strangle himself

Which is exactly what he almost did one day when the you and the Losers were hanging out

He didn't, but he huffed and stormed out of the room with a cheap excuse because in the moment you seemed so much more interested in Bill than you ever would be in him

The Losers took one look and you and Bill talking and knew exactly what was up

You, on the other hand, were confused

“What just happened?”

And Beverly just glanced between you and Bill and suddenly you knew exactly what was up so you got up and headed out after Richie into the hallway

“Richie, what the fuck… ?”

“Y/N, why don't you just go back and hang out with Bill, he probably misses you”.

“What? Richie, what's wrong with you?.”

“Whats wrong with me? What's wrong with you?”

“Wh-”

“I fucking like you, okay? I have ever since I saw you walk into school for the first time and I felt like I was gonna pass out because your really hot, and every time I saw you after that I felt confused and fucked up because I actually really fucking liked you, and not just because your hot but because your funny and nice and deal with me, and I didn't know how to tell you, and it's hard enough to hide that I don't like you when you're practically sitting on Bill’s lap and ignoring me”.

Fuck

That was most definitely not that way he was planning on telling you

You were still trying to process everything when he turned and started to walk towards the front door

“Richie?”

“What.”

“Your hot too. And your funny, and smart, and nice. And if you wanna ask me out, you should go for it”.

And with that, you were gone, back to where the Losers sat in Bill’s living room.

And he followed right after you and spoke right in front of the rest of you friends

“So, what, are we dating now?”

You shrugged and nodded at the same time

“What the hell happened in that hallway?” ( = Stan smacking Eddie as Richie sits down besides you)

And this time, as the night went on, the butterflies he got were good

Because he had finally gotten what he wanted

You.

Final a/n: I hope you guys enjoy this! it is a lot longer than I thought it was going to be lol, which is why it took so long, I just didn't know how to finish it lmao. I hope you like it! 👍🏼 I am accepting requests! please send them in!

[elounorfluff-blog]

When You’re Lost, I’ll Lead You Back Home

A/N: Ok I was trying to write a heart wrenching one shot adorable Elounor fluff, so I don’t know where the hell this even came from, but there is fluff in it somewhere (At the end mostly. So I apologize in advance if your heart breaks a little). Also, both the title and the quote/caption at the end are from the acoustic version of “Lighthouse” by Hearts and Colors. 

Trigger warning for descriptions of depression and slight mention of self-harm.

ANYWAY. 

Eleanor waited in the pharmacy line impatiently. She hated being here. Confidentiality be damned, if anyone heard her say her name and recognized it, no doubt they would listen just a little too carefully to see if they could hear the name of her medication. Perhaps she was just being paranoid, but she didn’t like giving people new reasons to antagonize her.

            “Next”, the technician at the counter called her forward.

            “Hi, I’m here to pick up Prozac?” She said the name of the antidepressant as if she were picking a real drug deal.

            “Okay, first and last name?”

            She swallowed thickly, “Eleanor Calder.”

The tech punched it into his computer and returned with a bag containing her bottle of pills. “That will be €12.00, Ms. Calder.” El swiped her credit card shakily before grabbing her receipt, stuffing it all into her purse and returning to her car where she locked the doors and recomposed herself. What was so scary about some pills? She had been on them once before and it had helped.

She pushed her thoughts aside and drove home, heels clicking as she opened the front door to Bruce jumping up on her and barking. “Oh shush you, I’ve only been gone for an hour!” Maybe if Louis had been here to entertain the dogs, but he was always gone at something. Sometimes he didn’t get home until one in the morning, and she would have a brief recollection the next morning of hearing the shower on, and then callused fingers gently moving her fingers off the pillow she was snuggling against in her sleep so he could crawl in next to her.

Eleanor hated the pills but she hated the numbness even more. Sad wasn’t even a good word for it. It was like someone had turned down the volume on her life or reduced her from a blazing fire to the fragile candlelight of a single wick. Sometimes she wanted her fire back so much that she let every awful emotion in her take over, entertained horrible thoughts.

Like how Louis had left her for a year and a half without barely a word, except to tell her he knocked someone up exactly two months after they broke up. Or how people didn’t stop the hate then like she thought they would. Her Instagram comments usually had very little to do with her, even months later. She wasn’t stupid enough to leave commenting enabled this time around. The only twitter account she used now was locked and unverified. She was getting worked up over this particular problem when Louis had the misfortune of coming home early.

“El? You home?”

She was laying on the couch with Bruce, simmering with frustration about hundreds of pointless situations. “Yeah.”

“You alright? You forgot to feed the dogs again, Love,” He said to her from the entryway as he took his jacket off.

“Well sorry if I don’t remember everything!” She said rolling her eyes.

“Whoa, chill out. I’m just trying to make sure the dogs survive.” He said it lightly, trying to joke with her.

She didn’t care. “What do you think the dogs are going to fucking do? If Clifford is anything like his owner, he’ll just go find somebody who gives him all the food he wants, maybe knock up some bitch without even realizing it, and then he’ll come back a year or two later when he realizes just what it was he gave up.” She shots at him without even bothering to see his reaction.

“Fuck it. I’m not doing this again. What is with you just being straight up… I don’t even know…mean? It’s like you’re fine and then one day you have to remind me of every single thing I ever fucked up in our relationship.” He sat on the couch across from her.

“Well, it’s a long list. And if you want kindness in the girlfriend contract,” She began sarcastically, “Tell them I want a yacht and a boyfriend who comes home before two in the morning.”

Louis just shook his head. “You want a fight from me? Fine. You knew what you were getting into when we started dating. You didn’t have to come back.”

“Right, because you weren’t begging me to?” Eleanor feels guilt in the very back of her mind tugging at her to stop.

“Is it such an awful thing that I wanted you back?”

“Depends on the day.” She said to the ceiling.

“Screw this, you are fucking impossible, I have more important things to do than argue about this.”

Eleanor was enraged now. “Is there ever going to be a day when there isn’t something more important than me in your life?” She stands up as she speaks and throws her empty mug of tea across the room, where it shatters against a wall. “I hate you right now”, and with those words, she grabs her blanket and runs up the staircase to the bedroom slamming the door.

******

Louis rested his hands on the counter and shakes his head in confusion. That’s when he saw the familiar tiny bottle. He picked it up to confirm his suspicions, and it’s exactly the medication he assumed it to be. Shit. He remembers Eleanor now, how tuned out of everything she has been, how he was the one who encouraged her to at least see her doctor a week or two ago. The seal on the bottle is still there, meaning she hadn’t actually taken any yet either.

His brain floods with images from the last time she had needed the meds. He remembers with searing detail that night in late 2014 when he came home from the tour to his Mum’s house, where Eleanor had been staying for the week. Lottie caught him at the door.

“Something’s wrong with Eleanor, Lou.”

“What do you mean something is wrong...is she sick?” Louis had demanded at the time.

Lottie looked at the ground, “Not the kind of sick you’re thinking of. I think it’s all the things people have been saying lately. It’s gotten worse. People are all over us lately.”

“Us? What do you mean?” He asked with eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“It’s not just El, Louis. They are everywhere, saying your relationship was never real. All of my social media accounts, Fizz has a twitter inbox filled with DMs just pertaining to that subject, even the comments on Daisy and Phoebes’ Instagrams.” She said solemnly. 

Louis hugged his sister tight. “Thank God you and Fizz don’t subscribe to any of that shit. You always stood up for me Lots. Swipe the twins phones and put filters on their comments if you can.”

“Got it. And we always have Mum here too. I think she’s with El right now actually.” 

“Where is she?” Louis had found her laying on the couch staring off into nothingness. He had bent down and spoke to her quietly about how a doctor was going to come see her, explained that she had to eat something, and told her how much he loved her. Later that night, he went to the guest room to check on her and found five exhausted girls asleep in one queen sized bed. Eleanor was sandwiched between Lottie and Phoebe, who laid next to Daisy, curled up against Felicity. He realized every single one of these girls had dealt with something because of his fame and his heart broke a little as he closed the door.

He had gotten through it, though. She had been put on antidepressants, fed an endless amount of food by his mother, gone out with Lottie, watched movies with the twins, and held in his arms every night until it slowly but surely got better. He had cried with her in the middle of the night when he had caught her without a sweatshirt on and seen the remains of a jagged inch and a half long cut on her left arm, that was nearly healed by then.

He never wanted her to feel like that again, and he had tried so hard to protect her. He should have realized sooner. Eleanor was never angry. She only used anger as a bodyguard for sorrow. All at once Louis came to his senses and ran to their bedroom where he was met with a locked door.

“El?” He knocked on the door. “El, just let me in.”

“Fucking leave me alone”, she shouted meekly at him.

He sighed and leaned on the door frame before reaching up to grab the hex key that opened the door in case of emergency. He popped the lock open and found Eleanor in a sports bra, laying on her back on their bed staring at the ceiling, hugging a pillow to her chest.

“You’re not very good at listening, you know that?” She remarked without looking at him. He laid down next to her, watching her face, devoid of animation as she searched the endless expanse of white ceiling above her.

“That’s true. Sometimes I’m a shit listener. But I don’t think that’s the problem here. If I’m going to listen, you’re going to have to talk." He dared to touch her then, pressing his fingers against the almost invisible scar on her left arm. She turned toward him then and he silently took her pillow and placed his other hand on her face. She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand, hinting at tears.

“Why do you put up with me?” Louis’ smiled sadly as her façade finally faded away.

“That one is easy,” he brushed her hair back behind her ear, “You put up with me, so we’re even.”

“I’m so sorry Lou.” She whispered through tears.

Louis shushed her then and sat up leaning against their bed plush headboard, gathering El into his arms, noticing just how light she was, realizing how little he had actually seen her eat lately. She had broken into sobs. He saw her phone laying on the bed, presumably from earlier, opened to Instagram. He knew exactly what she had been doing. Scrolling through comments on her older photos, where people still came back to verbally torture her since she had disabled commenting on her newer photos. Hatred strung through the vomit of text, asking her how much she was paid to show up and look pretty, how she was ruining Louis’ life, that she was ugly and things far worse. “It’s okay, Love. Screw them. All that matters is that I love you.” He held her tight against his chest and let her cry.

“I’m so fucking done, Lou. What’s going to happen if we get married, or I get pregnant? You know I’m not Brianna’s biggest fan, but there’s a whole group of people who say her baby isn’t even real. That your child isn’t real.” Her frustration and fears poured out now.

“I know, and I hate it just as much, but what can I do? El, they find a way to twist everything around. If I barely touch you, they say you’re some contracted girlfriend, and if I talk about you and hold you close, they say I’m clearly trying to put on a good show. We could make a fucking sex tape, and they would say management made us do it.” He smiled a bit at her.

She smiled for a moment too, before shrinking back into herself, whispering again. “I hate those stupid pills. It makes me feel like I can’t handle my own life.” His hands enclosed hers, warming up her cold fingers.

“Love, you didn’t choose to be this way any more than Mum chose her cancer. There is nothing to be ashamed of about taking pills to help any part of you that’s gotten a little mixed up or broken along the way. I’m sorry that being in a relationship with me comes with so much pain.” He pushed a strand of her hair back behind her ear then.

Eleanor went silent for a moment, “No. It’s not the relationship. I could be living the high life with the money and the fame. I could brush off every stupid comment easily if all I was doing was wearing the label of Louis Tomlinson’s girlfriend.” She wiped the tears away with her with her wrist. Louis looked confused.

“It’s when you come home from somewhere late at night and kiss me while I’m half asleep until my lips are swollen. It’s when I wake up from nightmares and you pull me against you until my heart rate slows down. It’s when you call and check up on me and kiss my neck and make sure I’m okay in the middle of sex. Being in a relationship was never the painful part, Lou, it was loving you that had consequences.”

Louis didn’t know how to respond. He pondered over her statement. “So you’re saying life would be- “, he swallowed thickly, “Life would be easier if you didn’t love me?”

E tilted her head back. “Hell yeah it would be easier”, She hesitated then looking at him again, “but I would take you over an easy life any day. I would have never come back if I thought I could live without you. Fuck, I need you. Don’t leave me.” She didn’t care one bit how that made her sound as she buried her head in his neck. Louis kissed her temple.

“Hey, look at me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yeah?” Eleanor held his gaze.

“Yeah.” And just like that, she was kissing him, both crying gently. She didn’t care. Louis kissed her through the tears. She finally pulled away to breathe, inhaling the familiar scent of cologne and cigarettes. Right here in this moment, she felt safe.

“You are freezing, Love”, Louis commented as he combed his fingers through her hair gently, “Here, you go and get a jumper and I’m going to get you some water and Tylenol, and I don’t want any complaints about it, deal?”

El nodded as they separated and Louis left the room. She changed into warmer leggings than the thin joggers she had on. Designer clothes were cute, but often very impractical. She stepped over the mess of their walk-in closet, searching through her endless high-end sweaters, nothing really looking comfortable as she looked further back into her older things. She laughed as she pulled her selection off its hanger, the sweatshirt was ridiculous, and she had no idea how it had survived. It had been an exclusive white hoodie from the Take Me Home tour that had “Live while we’re young” written on the front in a graffiti font and the tour name much smaller at the bottom. The back was supposed to have all the boys’ last names down the back, but being a girlfriend meant she had somehow scored one that just said, Tomlinson. When she had jokingly asked Louis to sign it, he wrote both of their names above his last name. She smiled, pulling on the heavy, real sweatshirt material.

Louis was equally amused as he returned to the room with water and saltines, laughing at the memory as he walked back to their bed. “Where did you find that?” He took her hand to help her up onto the bed and grabbed his phone. “Here, pull your hair to the side, I really need a picture of the back of that.” El groaned.

“Saltines now, photo op later.” Louis complied with her demands, letting her binge on crackers and water while he told her mindless ramblings about the day. Eventually, her eyelids grew heavy and she curled up against him, using his chest as a pillow, her head tucked to the side under his chin. He combed her hair off to the side and kissed the top of her head. Bruce and Clifford examined the scene and jumped on the bed, Bruce laying down next to Louis so he could check on his girl. Clifford curled up near the top and off to the side, just barely resting his head near the two of them. Louis glanced around at his little family and took out his phone. Holding it up in selfie mode, he managed to get him and the back of Eleanor’s shirt, hinting at her face as she was tucked tightly against him, and both dogs just barely fit into the sides of the photo.

He pulled a blanket up over them as he did something he hadn’t in a while. He pulled up Instagram and found the photo he had just taken. Nothing he could post would prevent the world from analyzing his life, but he decided that wasn’t going to stop him from posting about his girlfriend. He clicked next and thought for a moment before captioning the photo.

Follow me when it’s dark out. I will be, I will be your lighthouse.

Louis hit post and pulled his girlfriend tight, turning to his side, while she subconsciously wrapped her arms around him from behind and he grabbed her hand, closing his eyes as he silently vowed to himself that he would never let her go.

[justasmallbloginabigklainefandom]

Rec This Thing: Interactive Introverts

Interactive Introverts in Amsterdam RAI, evening show on June 2nd

Story: Dan and Phil decided to give the people what they want.

My Story: Okay, fun fact, I bought my ticket on June 1st. When they first announced their tour, my friend Sammy immediately bought tickets for her and her sister and she asked me to come along.

I declined.

After all, I wasn’t that big of a fan of Dan and Phil and I decided that people who are actual fans of them could have my possible ticket. Fast forward a couple of weeks and I became fan of them and both shows were sold out. Yup. Bummer. Instant regret. Total sadness. So Sammy promised to tell me everything yada yada since I couldn’t go. Then just over 24 hours before the show, Sammy sent me a message that there were five seats left for €55.

Crap.

Okay, I decided to do it. Fuck work the day after. Let’s go. And boy, am I glad I did.

Rating (1 to 10): 9

Why?: QUITE DETAILED SHOW SUMMARY UNDER CUT, SPOILERS!

Alright, yup, I’m just going to write down everything, including the entire show. Or at least what I remember cause holla, this is done from memory.

Basically, we arrived in Amsterdam after a lot of panic because my bus didn’t drive so we were about to miss our train. I ran back home and yelled to mum to grab the car (called Snuit) cause HOLY FUCK MY BUS IS 6 MINUTES LATE AND WITH THE NEXT BUS I WILL MISS MY TRAIN FOR SURE.

But okay, Amsterdam. We got there around four? First we checked out the venue, which wasn’t hard to find because their matinee show had just ended, so we just had to follow the stream of fans who were leaving, and then we had dinner at this Japanese place. Then around 18:30 we were back at the venue. Only VIP was allowed to go in already, so we decided to buy merch. The place was packed, so they decided to already open the merch stand. Good thing we got merch (I got a poster) before the show, because other merch was sold during intermission and after the show. Almost no one got merch during intermission, because it was only 20 minutes long, and after the show the line was insane. Probably 2,5+ hours wait time.

We found our seats. We got split up. Sammy and her sister had a great seat (row 9) and I sat on the other side of the theatre in a balcony seat which was fucking great as well. They put on Dan’s playlist and that playlist was banging. Sometimes, Dan’s Siri interrupted. I mean, they were playing Hard Times when I entered the theatre- great start. 

And of course they came on stage after Welcome To The Black Parade.

First we had a video kinda introducing danis not on fire and AmazingPhil and then they came in on a moving plaform. Like, their set was so minimalistic but also so great?

After the “Hello! Hi!” stuff they talked about being in Amsterdam (”Amsterdamn” - Phil) and how Phil is feeling a bit sick because he decided to eat tons of stroopwafels (strupwaffles, they called it). Dan called him out, because when you buy a pack of stroopwafels, they are obviously not supposed to be eaten at the same time.

Oh, and those poor foreigners aren’t used to shit ton of bikes in Amsterdam (or in the entire Netherlands tbh) so they were talking about how they almost got killed by bikers while crossing the road. 

They were obviously telling us what to expect and all of that.

Then first, What are we not going to do. They acted out everything they were not going to do. I only remember the erotic roleplay, because they did cop roleplay and it was fucking hilarious (”Please be gentle with those handcuffs, I have sensitive skin” - Dan), and the part where they dressed up as their cute pastel versions.

Truth Bombs came next. Phil got asked something among the lines of: “What Olympic sport would Phil excel in?”

Keeping houseplants alive

I forgot.

SPORTS??? LMFAO!

(If anyone’s reading this… if you happen to know the missing parts cause you were at the same show, hit me up.)

Phil said something about how avoiding bikes in Amsterdam is a sport and then he procceeded to jump over the small hexagon on stage. He chose the houseplants.

Dan’s question was: “What is in Dan’s browser history?” 

Fursuits (I think???)

I also forgot.

Something with Shrek 

Which was ironic, because Shrek the Musical played at the RAI. I don’t remember what Dan chose.

Then, “How will they die?” 

Demonetization

They fall off stage in a few minutes

I forgot….

Honestly, they kept talking about demonetization during the entire show. Every time they said something too raunchy, they’d say something like “We’re getting demonetized.”

I think the Simulator came next? Anyway Phil started out with ordering a unicorn frappuchino and he ended up being killed by Satan cause he tried make a deal with him to restore his twitter account after accidentally posting a sexy photo of himself in his pants. We cheered for Satan, and they kept reminding us of that during the entire show. 

Dan was outside for once and got approached by a furry, did body shots of an otter, and ended up dying in an underground furry rave after he decided to use the ladies’ restroom.

After that, Phil synced us all as Linda, so hooray, we were all Linda. Now as Linda, we could continue to the magic trick and the audience participation. What is hidden in the mysterious box that Dan hid under his bed? Our three answers were: cereal, a panda, a fursuit. 

I still don’t know how they did this trick. The box was unopened on stage all the time. Sammy and I first came up with this special electronic paper, but then we realised Phil gave it to audience members to rip it up and fight about it.

I only remember three questions asked during the Survey. There was apart about their favourite content and Dan was very happy to present it as a pie chart. Also “Do you think you know Dan and Phil?”

Yes

No

Who is Dan and Phil?

After joking about how all the parents answered the last answer, they noticed a small percent still answered no, and they talked about authenticity on YouTube and sure, they put themselves out there because they want to entertain people, but that they are still genuinely themselves and that they’re not faking it. But if you wanted to see the non-entertaining version of them, you’d be bored. (”On my sofa, with an overheated laptop on my crotch and a bag of crisps under my chin and me trying to eat them with my tongue cause I’m lazy” - Dan).

Then, of course the “Dan or Phil?” question and they presented the wheel and they made the most dramatic act one exit I’ve ever seen, and I am a Broadway fan.

During intermission, the two women next to me were talking about merch and I told them where to find it. Then I exited the theatre. Sammy’s sister bought Pringles and I bought M&Ms and the three of us were kinda shocked to see the queue for the merch stand. Those poor fuckers.

We went back to the theatre and I talked about the merch again, because I happened to know the whole merch stand and its prices by heart after looking at it for 45 minutes (hoodie €40, sweater €30, wristband €5, poster €10, Dan and Phil plushies €25, denim jacket €65, two t-shirts €20 and €25, keycord or whatever it is called €10, cap €15, woops I still know it).

Back to the show! Phil was on the wheel and Dan used a slingshot, a bow and arrow, and a bazooka. And afterwards Phil was showing off his ass while taking off that white body suit. He said he was dizzy and Dan dared him to jump over the hexagon again, but Phil refused.

Okay anyway the next thing I remember is the wholesome Daniel and X-Rated Lester part (”I’m already feeling naughty” - Phil). In the beginning they had this whole talk about authenticity and how they are still humans bla which was really cool. Since I am a recent fan, I completely missed the actual wholesome Daniel craze, but yeah, they talked about how they are actual people and sometimes, they don’t meet certain expectations of fans.

Also, at one point in the show, Dan was talking about God and he yelled “Spite me, daddy!” and I think it was around this moment. The entire crowd yelled.

Alright Dan had to sweet talk disturbing fan fiction, Hello Internet, and another thing uuuuhm. I don’t remember. Anyway, he kept saying “Oh for God’s sake!”, especially at the Hello Internet one.

Phil had to bad mouth cute animals, endless kittens (he failed), and ugh I have also forgotten his last one. The person who sent in cute animals sat in front of me and it was just absolutely amazing to see how happy she was to see her submission on screen.

Then the Dan vs. Phil friendship game. There was a lot of stuff, but I remember some. I can’t believe they shocked each other, but maybe that is because I’d read the Milgram Experminent earlier that week.

First, psychic connection. They both had to name the same number between 1 to 20 and they failed. 

Then a dilemma. Dan got the dilemma: “Guest star in Infinity War 4 or Phil gets thrown in a pool of cheese?”

Phil had to choose between: “A billion dollars or Dan will never be able to see dogs again?” According to Phil, he’d buy two big airplanes and then merge them together for an ever bigger airplane.

Then the Dan or Phil or Rat. They both got it right. Phil just got a photo of something white, but he guessed that it was his own pale skin and Dan got some hairs and he guessed that it was a rat.

Trivia. Dan needed to name 3 pre-2008 Phil videos and succeeded. Dan thanked Phil for uploading his newest video about his his old deleted stuff. Phil needed to recall the kind of cake that Colin ruined and failed.

There was probably more to Dan vs. Phil but I am blanking. Phil got the big shock (”I’m Phil trash no. 1!″ - Dan).

Then the intimate moment. Or personal. Phil called it intimate and Dan just went “PERSONAL? DON’T CALL IT INTIMATE, IT’S PERSONAL” and then proceeded to point out that Phil has a degree in English language.

It was just so down to earth. There were three questions, and I remember two. The first person asked for an appropriate name for their zoo animal YouTube channel. I forgot the name they recommended, but they said it was great that this person had a clear theme.

I remember one person saying that she wants to be a singer but her parents want her to go into medicine and well first they were like “hey singing doctor!”. But they talked about how passion is important and how they both didn’t do what was expected and how they are much happier now (“Lawyer Dan is as awful as a singing doctor!” - Dan) but I unfortunately forgot the other two questions. It was just a really nice moment where both Dan and Phil just sat down to have a chat. Oh and they also talked about Phil’s apparent awful handwriting.

Then the power came back on and I think that is when the Awards happened? Glitter jackets af and a self-made statue (”Two naked men in bondage really represents Dan and Phil” - Phil, or something like that.)

The first category was: Best dressed pet as Dan and Phil.

A lizard wearing a flower crown while watching the video of Black Parade won.

A cat wearing Dan’s merch.

I don’t even know but it looked like Dan was riding Phil so that was that. I suppose it was a dog.

And then Most inaccurate expectation of the show

I fucking forgot first place.

Two hour long Hamilton reenaction with Chris Evans.

Them giving birth on stage.

Also the most annoyed parent was just incredibly funny. I remember the winners but hey I don’t feel comfortable just sharing their names cause… privacy. I know the winner sat on the second row and all kids were pointing at her and I guess Dan and Phil saw her and said: “This was probably the worst day of your life, thank you for sharing it with us!” “You probably thought you were seeing Shrek the Musical.”

And then back to the scripted part, aka the Big Finale. A dog video that has nothing to do with the show, PHIL’S DISS TRACK, Dan at the piano, and them singing a duet. This ain’t Broadway, but it was still kinda nice and just sweet.

And well, that is it. They runned around on stage, waving at everyone, saying goodbye. Then they stepped on their moving platform and they disappeared.

Some random things:

Phil kept calling a part of the set a “flap” which annoyed Dan.

Dan… just… couldn’t… stop… dabbing…

They hinted at a new gaming video that involves a lot of Dan’s screaming - coming next week.

So many pride flags in the crowd.

Phil and Dan sounds wrong.

There was one moment where a picture of Dan’s had pasted on a horse from My Horse Prince appeared with a text bulb saying “Ride me, senpai” but I don’t remember when that happened. I think before the Simulator?

Interactive Introverts kind of reminded me of Hedwig and the Angry Inch. There’s clearly a format and a script, but thanks to audience participation, no shows are the same.

But in all seriousness, as my friend Rowan @rothetree pointed out, the entire message of this show was about how Dan and Phil are just human. As Ro put it: “On a serious note, there’s a whole underlying theme to this show, which was them basically going “Hey, we’re real people, stop objectifying us"”. This felt so in line with what the three of us were talking about. Me, Sammy and Sammy’s sister had to endure a two hour train ride and we talked a lot about fandom’s perception on real life people they stan and how they sometimes reduce those people to the image they have in their minds.

Cause we were talking about stuff like real life shipping, and about how celebrities are being seen, and how the moment they do something the fans don’t like, you get all those moments of “X is not real anymore!”

Newsflash asshole, they are people with feelings, and just because you don’t want to see those feelings, doesn’t mean they don’t have them. For example, Sammy was talking about how one K-POP star basically got stalked at an airport and when he clearly showed his dislike of it, people were all “OH MY GOD HE DOESN’T LIKE HIS FANS HE IS SO RUDE HE’S NOT WHO WE THOUGHT HE WAS” and I gave the example of people saying Darren is “no longer himself” after he called out the people who are seriously threatening his fiancée and all that stuff.

Before the show started, we overheard two other fans talking about how they should come out bla bla bla, and just… no? That is so personal and we are not entitled to that at all? 

To quote Ghostly, they are not our dolls. We can’t dress them up in whatever way we want.

I recently read I Was Born For This by Alice Oseman, which follows a band from the fans’ POV and through the band’s POV and how sometimes those things clash, and I feel like with Interactive Introverts, Dan and Phil wanted to show people who they are to avoid a clash like that. That’s why they kept talking about how they value authenticity, while they are aware of the fact that they are also putting on a show. Or how, when people have certain images of them, how unrealistic those images can be and that they cannot live up to the expectations, and therefore it is important for fans to realise that. The tagline is: “Giving the people what they want!” and they did that without having to change for the fans’ sake.

As Rowan (rothetree, not Rowan from the book I Was Born For This) said: "we don’t own their image or expect too much from them. Something about their interactions with us is changing in a really good way."

Because that exactly.

Since I am a recent fan and I got my ticket one day before the show, I wasn’t aware of the questions, but in the “Do you think you know Dan or Phil?” (as they said: or do you think we’re people putting up a whole show) I would’ve answered a solid “no”, because I always think it’s dangerous to say that you know a celebrity, but after this show, I’d vote “yes”, because the way they acted on stage and the way they conveyed their message of “yes, we’re putting on a show right now because we want to entertain you guys, but we still care about authenticity” was well done.

And that is what made this show so great and enjoyable. Yes, it was a show and there were scripted parts, but it was still very genuine.

Recommend?: Yes, please, just like TATINOF, put it online for sale!

[spectrumscribe]

exhaust trails through space.

commissioned by @stasispunk, some good old 2012 TMNT b-team shenanigans and bonding. in space!!

contains some themes similar to my fic These Days, so be aware. but not nearly as severe, since it’s mostly fluffy things.

AO3 version.

It’s not bad, in their home. It’s not. But sometimes it’s just… not good.

It’s not one person’s fault, and it’s not everyone’s fault, either. They’re not the most functional people in the world, even if they were counted as ‘people’ by the greater majority of planet earth. They all have problems, and bad nights, and moments where they just fuck up a situation that could have gone better. And they’re trying, honest, to make it work even with just each other and their friends to lean on for support.

Mikey knows all that, but it still sucks sometimes. Maybe a lot of the time, when rough patches pop up and take root. Sometimes things just suck and that’s a fact about his family’s life.

Doesn’t make it any easier, when it’s the third week in a row where hardly anyone has had what they could call a ‘good night’, and it’s the umpteenth fight about something stupid. The chores today, training yesterday, and attitude the day before that…

It’s always something, and it feels like one or more of them are always mad about it. Some nights it’s easy as avoiding that brother, and some nights it’s not.

Some nights its itchy, bitter frustration building in Mikey’s throat and a lot of words coming out that really shouldn’t. Some nights its Raph saying words just like Mikey’s, and both of their voices climbing higher to be heard over the other. Tonight it’s that, with the additional noise of Leo and Donnie telling both of them to shut up and let it just drop already, and Raph finally losing his temper to the point it gets physical.

They’ve all had it a hundred times worse, but a rough shove backwards, enough Mikey has to really pay attention so he doesn’t fall over, is a real pain in the neck to deal with. Enough that it’s one of the nights he doesn’t back down at that, and instead shoves right back.

Raph makes an angry snarl for the blow, and punches Mikey’s shoulder hard enough it’ll probably bruise. That’s when Leo and Donnie pull them apart, dividing them into B-team and A-team once again.

There’s a lot of yelling and not-yelling going on, and Mikey’s shoulder is smarting as much as his pride is, and all he catches is-

“Mikey, you apologize, and then we can all just put this behind us-”

“Excuse me, you want him to apologize? For not wanting to pick up Raph’s dishes?”

“Raph already did the sweeping today, it wasn’t that big of a deal for him to ask Mikey-”

“Raph can clean up his own shit, oh my god. Expecting other people to always do that for him is frankly ridiculous-”

“It isn’t always-”

“It sure feels like it!”

“Donnie.”

“Leo.”

And after a moment of glaring, Mikey suddenly finds himself being dragged out of the room as Donnie throws over his shoulder, “You know what? Fuck both of you.”

Leo tries to call after them. “Donnie-”

“No! Piss off, Leo!”

Just like that, Mikey finds himself in his brother’s lab, and the doors being slammed behind them. He rubs his sore shoulder absently while Donnie paces, muttering and cursing and being generally upset.

“I cannot believe- you know what, no, no I can believe he’d think that was okay. Like Raph wasn’t the first one to make things physical, like always-”

Donnie slams his hands on a table, facing Mikey from the other side of it.

“I am so sick of their bullshit,” he says.

Mikey rubs his shoulder a little more, massaging the forming bruise. “Same,” he replies.

Donnie walks away from his table, pacing a bit more, and then rounds to look Mikey dead in the eye.

“We need a god damn vacation,” Donnie states.

Mikey thinks about that. They actually… haven’t ever taken one of those?

“Not many places to go when you’re a turtle, Dee,” he points out, which is one of the reasons why they’ve never done that.

Donnie mutters grudgingly that that’s true. Then he snaps his fingers and says, “But in space, we can go anywhere!”

Mikey tilts his head.

That’s… very true. He says so, then adding with a slight are you kidding me tone, “And how are we supposed to get up there, genius?”

Donnie pulls out his t-phone, tapping away on the screen.

“Bishop owes me a few favors at least, considering how much we’ve helped them out in the past. Plus, I walked him through how to set up Netflix across dimensional planes. Three hours of that definitely warrants a spaceship loan.”

  ---

 It takes less time than Mikey would have thought to have a ship.

No longer than half a night, and a ship is ready for them to fly into the stratosphere. Brought straight from the remaining reserves of the Kraang armada, now the Utrom armada; basically with Mikey and Donnie’s name on it.

They pack their bags and weapons. It takes shorter than ten minutes, what with how much practice of having to grab essentials and just go they’ve had. Years of life or death situations are good for something.

Once they have everything together- and have made sure April will come and take care of ICK, because Mikey couldn’t ever leave without making sure his cat would be cared for properly- they stand in the technical living room of their home and announce,

“We’re going to space,” Mikey says proudly, and maybe a lot smugly. “See you guys in a few weeks.”

“What,” Leo says, staring at them.

“April will keep an eye on ice cream kitty,” Donnie assures. “so don’t bother feeding her at all.”

“What,” Raph says, also staring.

“Stay out of the lab,” Donnie says.

“And my room,” Mikey says.

“What?”  Their brothers say.

“See you!” Mikey cheers, and absconds with Donnie before anyone can stop them.

 ---

 For Donnie, laying his hands on the controls of the formerly Kraang ship is a clean breath inwards. Bringing it online, activating it’s cloaking, and taking off from the ground of the military compound is literally like flying.

The stratosphere rushes to meet them, and Donnie finds himself grinning as the blue of earth fades from the viewpoint. Only endless stars and space ahead of them, an entire universe full of options.

Donnie glances to his side, where he finds Mikey. His brother beaming at the smears of starlight all around them, so excited he’s nearly jittering.

Mikey glances up at him, and Donnie finds his own mouth copying the wide excited smile. Already this trip is an improvement. Mikey barely seems to be feeling the bruise on his shoulder, and Donnie hasn’t found himself thinking about certain arguments in over a half hour.

Their phones are now thoroughly out of range with earth, and they’ve got all the time in the world to explore to their hearts content. Now the only question is…

Where will they go first?

 ---

 They find out unfortunately quick that Kraang are not welcome. Literally anywhere.

After the fifth misunderstanding, and subsequent terror/grudge inspired firefight, Donnie announces they’ll be getting a new ship. Because getting shot at every two hours is the opposite of a vacation.

“But we have zero space dollars, dude,” Mikey points out as they pull into a space dock, planetside of a well populated area and after haggling the local law enforcers into believing that no, they are not a lone Kraang ship here to wage short and stupid war on a tourist planet.

“Weeellll….” Donnie says slowly as they pack up their meager possessions. “We can get an okay price for ship scrap, so that’s a start.”

“Enough for a new ship?” Mikey asks as they clip on the air conversion collars Bishop loaned them.

Donnie makes an Eh, not quite noise. Mikey looks at him for a moment, and then says, “Oh. Okay. Right off the bat?”

Donnie shrugs. “It was bound to happen eventually,” he says as he double checks all his weapons. “We’re bad at staying on people’s good side anyway, might as well do it on purpose for once.”

Seeing as this is their second time on a space voyage, and they’re older and more skilled at it now, it’s actually very easy to steal a new space ship. Sleek and small and fast, perfect for outrunning law enforcement and formerly wasted on the alien equivalent of a trust fund baby.

They then begin the 2.0 version of their vacation, adrenaline hot in their veins and somewhat maniacal laughter filling their ship as they warp away from the long arm of the law.

 ---

 Seeing as no one is hunting their heads this time around (excluding that one quadrant where they stole their ship from), there is abruptly a list of options longer than Mikey’s whole body of what they can do. Their options have always been so limited, even the last time they’d been out here, and it makes Mikey’s head spin for a few minutes.

Best yet, there’s only Donnie here with him in the cockpit of their ship. That’s only one person to convince, and Donnie has always been easier to try that with than any of their other siblings. Donnie’s more likely to listen, as long as it’s not too stupid a suggestion.

“Theme park!” Mikey says, snapping his fingers.

“Theme park,” Donnie agrees, writing down the idea on the little holopad that came with the ship.

“Oh and, um, shit, what’s that wet one of those?”

“Waterpark?”

“Yes,” Mikey says reverently. “I wanna use an actual waterslide at least once before I die.”

“Same, honestly,” Donnie says, adding that as well.

Mikey thinks a little more, about parks, and water, and things to do with both of those. And he arrives to a suggestion that seizes him with a strong sweep of fervency.

“Beach!” Mikey yells. “OH. My god. We have to go to a beach. Everyone has to visit a beach at some point.”

He glances at Donnie, who is looking at him funny.

“What?” Mikey asks, and then feels tired trepidation that of all his suggestions, the one he wants most is the one he’ll have to fight for.

Donnie snorts, chuckling as he taps on the holopad. “Nothing, it’s just for a second there I thought you called me a bitch.”

Mikey relaxes. “Not that time,” he jokes. He leans forwards in his pilot seat, towards his brother’s. “But seriously. Beach. We have to go find a real beach. Please?”

“Way ahead of you,” Donnie says. He taps the holoscreen one more time, and a map of stars pops up on the connected ones to the controls. He grins at Mikey. “I think a beach day is an excellent way to kick things off.”

Mikey chest is full of bubbling joy, and he throws his hands up with a whoop as Donnie sends their ship speeding towards the destination.

 ---

 Half a cycle’s voyage and twenty minutes of bickering about which spot to land on later, with brilliant blue waves crashing against the shore and golden beach that stretches for miles each way, and their air converter collars functioning just fine in the new environment,

“You should totally eat it,” Mikey says.

Donnie gives his brother an incredulous look. “It’s an unidentified alien organism on a deserted planet. I’m not going to eat it.”

“It’s an alien organism on a deserted planet that looks exactly like an earth lobster. We gotta eat it.”

Donnie gestures at the space crustacean between their feet on the sand. “It’s bright green! I’m not eating a neon green lobster from space.”

“Technically,” Mikey points out. “we’re green turtles from space, and he just lives here.”

“I’m not eating it.”

“Suit yourself.”

It’s only later, when the two suns have set and they’ve set up camp outside the ship for dinner, that Donnie looks at the lobster again. And considers.

“…that smells good,” he comments, watching Mikey crack open the shell of the lobster he’s boiled to a dark blue.

“’bout to find out if it tastes good,” Mikey replies, and takes a bite out of the pale flesh inside. Donnie waits for Mikey to keel over and the rush to find the right medicinal injection to begin, but all he gets is his brother chewing, swallowing, and saying, “Whew!”

“That’s like getting punched in the nose with flavor, oh my god,” Mikey says, wiping his nose and grinning. “Dee, you sure you don’t want in?”

Donnie looks at the dry ration bars in his hands, and his stomach rumbles as the scent of (probably) shellfish wafts past him.

“Gimme,” he finally relents. Mikey hands him one of the claws with a grin, and Donnie finds out eating lobster does in fact feel like getting punched in the nose with flavor. But it’s a good one, if a little overwhelming at first.

They polish off the lobster, and then go looking for more. Two more end up in the pot taken from the ship’s tiny kitchen, and they methodically shell them under the moonlight by their fire.

 ---

 In stark contrast to the beach destination, Mikey lets Donnie drag him to a planet at least several centuries ahead of earth with technology, if not more.

Not exactly where he would have wanted to go next, but hey, fairs fair. This is a joint trip, and Donnie didn’t even fight with him on going to the beach. Mikey’s gotta share control of their list.

So, rather than hitting up one of the artificial planets made specifically for partying, or one that’s built all its cities in the sky, they land on one that’s long past its phase of military might and moved into intellectual ventures. Transferring their old military research into betterment of the galaxy and all that.

They pick a showcase for tourists, since that’s what they are, and it’d be a big mess for sure if they tried to sneak into the top secret research facilities (which Mikey suspects they might end up breaking into anyway, at some point).

A lot of it goes way over Mikey’s head, but he’s alright with that for the most part. A laser beam works the same either way, even when you don’t understand exactly how it blows up stuff. All that really matters is the seriously sick laser show it creates.

Donnie makes a series of needy, high pitched noises at the end of the show; eyes shining as the demonstrators move on to the more technical part of things. Opening up the interior of the machines for those in the crowd with a head for that kind of thing, while all the normal folks start moving on to the next exhibition.

Mikey glances after the crowd, hearing distantly loud speakers in the ceiling tell visitors are welcome to witness another demonstration of technology- this one an aquatic vehicle, and involving a splash zone to get caught in.

Mikey fidgets a little, because that sounds really fun, but Donnie is still enamored with the speakers on stage. He wants to leave, but also not.

Donnie notices Mikey’s wistful glances, and grimaces sheepishly.

“Sorry for making you wait, this is just really interesting,” he says, rubbing his neck and looking awkward. Then Donnie offers, “You can go on ahead if you want.”

Mikey chews on that for a moment, and then says, “Nah. I’m good. Not like we haven’t seen stuff like that before.”

It would be neat to see the aquatic car thingy- plus get splashed during the demonstration, or be quick enough to not get splashed, that’s even better- but it would be more fun to do it with Donnie, instead of on his lonesome.

They don’t have much in common that’s fun for both of them, so. Why walk away from the chance to share something? Especially something that lifts all the stress that tends to sit on Donnie’s shoulders, and makes him smile like he had when they were younger, holding his first IPad with an intact screen.

Donnie scrutinizes Mikey for a brief moment, and then gives a small smile.

“Let’s move closer to the front,” he suggests with a tinge of giddy curiosity in his voice. “I might be able to copy some of it from memory later.”

“Sure,” Mikey agrees easily. “The Shellraiser would be like, twice as cool if we gave it lasers.”

“That’s the plan,” Donnie says, a glint in his eye. Mikey grins. Cool weapons are definitely something they can agree on.

They end up staying after each demonstration to hear the what’s what of things, and Mikey’s attention definitely wanders during them, but Donnie is focused intensely enough for the both of them. It evens out.

Plus, Donnie takes Mikey to the biggest, baddest, most epic theme park of three systems right after they’re done- just on the other side of the planet, how did Mikey miss that in the brochures- and then he is far too busy trying to ride every single ride possible to care about anything else.

It’s a good vacation spot. Loud, teeming with people, a bright sun hanging over their heads- they’ve seen plenty of this stuff on television, but never actually experienced walking through halls of valuable and ingenious inventions, rarely experienced the thrill of adrenaline that didn’t come from danger and certainly never experienced being pressed into a huge crowd, hundreds of people around them and not giving a second look their way.

It’s a good spot to stop, like the quiet freedom of the beach was. Miles and miles of untouched nature, not another soul to disturb them, and an endless sea they could swim in all they wanted. Just the two of them, all on their own, and for once an easy balance struck between them.

It’s good to see the lingering exhilaration in Donnie, once they leave that planet. Mikey almost interrupts a few times, a little bored but mostly just confused by all the scientific stuff Donnie is rambling about, but then he stops for a moment and looks at the bright excited smile his brother has, and just… doesn’t want it to stop.

Like it usually does, when someone tells him enough is enough and changes the conversation topic.

So Mikey keeps his mouth shut for the most part, and gives his best at trying to understand the things Donnie goes on about. He notices after a bit that Donnie tries to include him, bringing up potential redesigns to their cars and the lair’s facilities that Mikey could get interested in.

Donnie could’ve just kept on about the more complicated stuff, but he’s actively trying to make their conversation something Mikey can contribute to- which doesn’t often happen. It’s a little clumsy, faltering here and there as Donnie backtracks to water down the jargon, but that attempt at inclusion makes Mikey smile.

 ---

 Their ship breaks down after about seven different stops, and they have to pull over planetside to get into a repair shop. One thing leads to another, a wrench and fission torch end up in Donnie’s hands, and then he’s arm deep in the engine of their ship and drinking up every bit of information their mechanic gives him.

And there’s another three ships in the shop, all with totally different engine designs and aeronautic exteriors and Donnie wants to take every single one of them apart, haul every manual he can find into his lap, and commit the contents to his memory. He wants to spend time here even more than he did at the massive intergalactic library they visited, because tangible knowledge is even better than books.

But. That would take a few days, at least. Donnie is good, but he’s not good enough to get everything down like that in one night.

But he still desperately wants to- this is one of the nicest (and one of the very few) individuals he’s met that is willing to teach him something useful and interesting. He doesn’t want to depart before he can at least enjoy the experience.

Donnie is waiting for Mikey to start complaining about the time it’s taking to fix the ship, needle at Donnie for being a gearhead and a nerd and using up their precious vacation to learn boring stuff. But it hasn’t happened yet.

Mikey is alternating between sitting atop the ship, reading comics on the holopad, or messing around in the scrapyard surrounding the shop and traversing rusting piles of ships. He’s only stopped a few times to peer over Donnie’s shoulder, and every time Donnie expects his brother to finally start up, finally say “We’re just wasting time, come on Donnie,” he just… wanders off again.

The next time Mikey swings by, sliding down the side of the ship to hang above where Donnie is working on the engine- while their helpful and kind mechanic takes zir dinner break- Donnie chews his lip, and then asks.

“Aren’t you getting… impatient? Or something?” Donnie questions. Mikey cocks his head to the side, like a curious bird.

“No?” he says. “Why, are you?”

“No,” Donnie says, because how could he? “but… I thought maybe you’d… I dunno. Want to go do something else already?”

Mikey shrugs. “Nah. We’ve been on the go for a few days now; a rest is cool by me. ‘sides, you’re getting your nerd-on for all this- stuff,” he waves vaguely at the shop. “so I’m good to just hang out ‘til you’re done.”

“Oh,” Donnie says, blinking, taken a little aback. “You sure?”

“Sure am,” Mikey says, and clambers back up the side of the ship with a wave goodbye. Donnie is half certain his brother is going to double back, turn around with a “Gotcha!” and be kidding about what he’s said, but Mikey just jumps up into the rafters and goes exploring again.

Donnie scratches his head, but decides wondering is ultimately looking a gift horse in the mouth.

Mikey is patient the whole four days it takes for Donnie to be satisfied with his learnings, and barely fusses about anything the whole while. Donnie is a little disbelieving it’s actually happened, but largely touched for the gift of time and space.

 ---

 Mikey gets to choose the next destination after Donnie’s binge on spaceships, and he picks a planet made of softly glowing plant life and deep, fathomless seas.

It’s the seafood, in all honesty, that draws him. Mikey can’t help it- good food, like seriously good food, is so hard to come by. He gets teased for it by his brothers, but he can’t help his passion for food. Baking and cooking comes easy to him, and getting to experience space fine cuisine isn’t something he can pass up.

They end up combing through the smaller markets, where local fishermen- literally, with their scales gleaming- show their wares. Mikey trails his hands over the fins of large exotic looking fishes, takes cautious sniffs of fruit only found on this planet, and mourns he can’t take the time to try every single item for himself.

He expects sometimes for Donnie to complain about the smell of raw meat, or maybe about the stickiness of some patches on the market road, or about wandering in aimless circles and eating things. But he doesn’t.

Mikey is still cautious though, because as much as he really, really wants to take his time, he also doesn’t want to start a fight accidentally. Not when things are going so well, and they’re getting along so easily, and Donnie is still carrying himself with content gait he only gets when he’s accomplished something that makes him happy.

Until he gets to an open cookout, Mikey manages to keep himself from getting invested in anything. It doesn’t seem so much a cook-off, but instead a gathering of locals. Sharing food, showing off skills at a grill. Family things. Mikey’s hands twitch around an imaginary knife- wanting to get in there and let his translator do its thing, let him learn what these people are all talking about to each other.

But… that would take hours, and there’s no way…

Mikey glances at Donnie, hardly keeping his feet from dragging him right towards the gathering.

Donnie looks at him, bemused.

“What are you waiting for?” Donnie asks, smiling. “Go already.”

Mikey smiles brilliantly, and does.

He spends the rest of the afternoon, then evening, and then late evening enjoying the party of food. It’s a local holiday, it turns out. A time to share food and bounty from the sea, and pay tribute to their two sided ocean goddess. The one who provides and the one who takes, they tell him over a grill, three slices of seasoned fish on it.

Mikey focuses on the providing side of things, like the rest of the participants in the communal barbeque are. Whenever he glances towards Donnie, he finds his brother relaxing comfortably to the side of things. Reading, or maybe writing, on the holopad while locals mill around his spot at one of the many tables.

Mikey slides dish after dish in front of his brother on his quest to learn all of the local cooking tricks, and he is pleasantly surprised again and again that the plates are empty when he swings by next.

They don’t leave until the last vestiges do, wandering off into the ambient glow of the town around them. Donnie doesn’t complain even once about the long wait, and for that, Mikey is more than happy to share the last of the sweetly crispy desert he made.

 ---

 The wealth of planets they can visit never decreases, and even as they check off more and more things on their list, it never ends. Just keeps getting longer and longer, and it’s..

Incredible. The endlessness, the unlimited time, so much freedom.

After spending so many years, especially the years following their father’s death, in a world that felt too small and too crowded and just so hard to deal with some nights… it’s intoxicating in the best way.

Neither of them has felt this easily happy in years, if ever.

 ---

 “What if we just stayed out here forever?” Donnie hears Mikey whisper, sitting on the edge of their ship’s tail while they dock for a sleep cycle. They’re taking a moment to enjoy the endless swirl of stars and planets around their rest station, and Donnie doesn’t react with surprise at the suggestion.

Because in all honesty, he’s been thinking the same thing.

“Earth is our home,” he says, because that’s true. “and we said we’d go back already. We told our family we would.”

Mikey sighs, curling over his knees and resting his chin on them. “I know,” he says. “but…”

But what if? What if they never gave up this freedom? What if they kept going forever, taking what they needed and working for what they couldn’t get, seeing the edges of the universe and going farther. Never again boxed in by anything, or anyone. Not like on earth. Not like at home.

Donnie sighs, and leans back on his palms.

“We said we would,” he says eventually, because that’s all there really is to say. They will go back, one way or another, and how could they ever really stay away? No matter what, they couldn’t ever leave their family behind. Not forever.

Mikey seems to know that fact as well as Donnie does, and sighs a second time. As the quiet pause draws out, Donnie puts an arm around his brother’s shoulders; pulling him to his side. Mikey’s arm comes to rest around Donnie’s shell, and remains there with a loose grip.

They enjoy the view until their personal atmosphere filters start to let in the cold of space, and then head inside to sleep.

 ---

 Somewhere, after another dozen planets, they start talking. About home, about themselves. About how things are. About how they were, before war, before their father’s death, before growing up.

It’s not a bad conversation. But it’s not a good one, either. It fills up the space of their dark bedroom, laying on a large bed they’ve been sharing. Big, heavy… hard to think about…

It’s doesn’t feel good to talk about, but it doesn’t feel exactly bad, either. Feels like a long time coming, if they feel like being honest about stuff a little longer.

It’s okay, afterwards. Maybe even better.

They’re better for it.

 ---

 They go home, after another few weeks. With a ship full of souvenirs- all theirs, all things they got because they wanted to and could- and time spent in just each other’s company, it’s… easy to go home. Easy to land the ship in one of the many warehouses that the military and the Utrom share, and disembark with all their gotten (and stolen) booty.

They feel steadier. Better connected. Things are exactly perfect per say, but its better now. They understand each other better. They feel closer for their vacation.

And like the saying says, walking back into their home is a swell of fond emotion. Space is huge and endless and full of possibilities, but this is where they grew up. Where they became who they are, for better or worse, and the feeling being enclosed in a too small space is absent.

Their brothers greet them with a range of emotions. Relief they came back- happiness they’re unharmed- upset they did this so out of the blue- kind of pissed off they didn’t invite anyone else- and ultimately resigned, but somewhat fond and amused, grievance about the whole thing.

Donnie exchanges a glance with Mikey, who grins mischievously.

“You know…” Donnie starts, interrupting the barrage of questions and thinly veiled scolding.

“Maybe you guys should try taking a vacation sometime, too,” Mikey finishes for him, and just grins at the sudden silence from their family.

Donnie puts their holopad into Leo’s hands, information on screen about the start-up sequence to the engine controls. Mikey passes Raph a physical notebook, containing info about all the places they visited.

“It’d probably do you guys a world of good,” Donnie says cheekily, and they both have to laugh at the truly baffled looks on their brother’s faces.

Commission info & Kofi link.

[planetsam]

Hi! Are you still taking stranger things prompts? If so could you write a story where Mike gets badly hurt? With Eleven super worried and maybe some Hopper also worried about his son in law? It's ok if you don't of course but thanks in advance!!!

“Hey, kid.”

Eleven has her back to him, curled in the chair. The kid weighs 80 pounds soaking wet, but he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look smaller. It hurts to see her like this. But maybe that’s just the effect that hospitals have on him now, they make everyone seem smaller.

“You go in yet?” He asks, nodding at the door. He gets no response, “I know it might not seem like it, but he’s there. You can talk to him. He can hear you,” he says. No response, “kid—“

“I can’t talk.”

Hopper looks at her.

“You’re talking to me right now,” he says. He gets one of those sighs from her, the ones that remind him he’s dealing with a teenager. Jonathan set his bar way too high for this, not all teenagers are responsible male versions of Joyce Byers. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Mike talked. Every day. I knew everything,” she says, then buries her face back in her knees, “I can’t talk,” she repeats.

Hopper feels his heart breaking all over again. The Wheeler kid’s always been good with stories, like Will is with art. Eleven’s language has come far but it’s still a lot to overcome. When she’s upset it’s still more a mess of sounds and stilted words, but she’s just as likely to be silent. He doesn’t blame her for not wanting to talk. But he knows she’ll regret it if she doesn’t. How many things does he regret not telling Sara? He puts a hand on her back.

“What if we go in and you only talk if you feel like it? Or I can talk and you can hold his hand, so he’ll know you’re there?”

She raises her red rimmed eyes to him, giving him a look that’s so completely offended he almost cracks a smile.

“You don’t sound like me,” she says.

“What are you talking about? Of course I do,” he objects and raises his voice as high as he can, “nothing happens, where’s mike, more eggos—“

She claps a hand over his mouth and shake her head.

“That totally sounded like you,” he says.

“No.”

“I think you’re judging a little harshly,” he says, “we should get ask an expert.”

Her eyes go to the door and she looks down at her sneakers. Hopper puts his hand on her back. She blinks hard and he knows she’s trying not to cry. Honestly he’s kind of surprised there are any tears left in her after the past few hours.

“Mike knows how you talk,” he reminds her, softening his voice, “he likes it just fine. I think he just wants to know you’re there.”

She raises her eyes and look at the door. Hopper’s got a warped view of kids, another thing he can chalk up to cancer taking from him. But she pushes herself up and walks to the door and he can’t be anything but impressed. Eleven goes for the door handle and stops, turning to look at him. Thankfully he doesn’t need a dictionary to translate this one. He gets up and walks over, opening the door.

It’s pretty fucking heartbreaking.

Wheelers growing like a weed but it looks like he’s being treated like one. Tubes are everywhere. The worst is the one in between his lips. Hopper wishes the sound of his lungs being inflated and deflated didn’t make his heart ache. He wishes he didn’t know what the readouts meant, he wishes he couldn’t speak this language. But he can and he does and the only bright spot is that he can tell Eleven where she can sit on the bed without disturbing anything.

“Hi, Mike,” she says slowly, watching his face for any kind of response. There’s none. Eleven frowns at the white bandages and Mike’s shaved head, “no hair,” she says.

“It’ll grow back,” Hopper says, “yours did.”

She looks at Mike like that might wake him up and Hopper knows he’s got to explain this to her. What the hell do words like ‘coma’ mean to her? She’s barely got a grasp on the words in the vocab book he bought her.

“When he wakes up it’ll be slow,” he says, “not like on the soap operas.”

“I know.”

“It’ll be—“ he continues and then stops, “you know?”

Eleven nods.

Some part of him doesn’t honestly want to hear. There’s enough random cruelty that’s led to this, he doesn’t need the intentional kind. But Eleven is gently skimming her hand up and down Mike’s forearm, her other fixed on his still eyelids like she knows this. His mouth goes dry at the thought that he isn’t the only one who speaks this language.

“Nine and Ten didn’t wake up,” she says, “I did. Eight did.”

“You were in a coma?” He questions. Eleven looks at him silently for a moment before looking back at Mike, “when?” She shrugs, “Jesus,” he swears, “don’t be like nine and ten,” he tells Mike.

“Don’t be like eight,” Eleven mutters.

He lets them stay for as long as they can, hoping he’ll give her enough time before he realizes that there’s no such thing. She’ll sit in that bed forever if she has to and he can’t let that happen. When it gets dark and he gets really hungry—which means she must be starving—he clears his throat.

“Okay, we gotta go,” he says.

Eleven nods sadly and leans forward, whispering something he can’t hear before kissing the corner of Mike’s mouth.

When they leave she cries the whole way home.

It takes a week of watching this for him to get the idea.

A weekof watching her try to string together longer sentences, two weeks of embarrassment adding to the hurt. He knows she feels like she’s failing. He knows Wheeler doesn’t think that. It’s not the others fault that they talk endlessly. Constantly. That the hours they spend are full of chatter, while hers are a handful of words. She stops eating unless forced, she’s punishing herself and he can’t stand it.

The idea comes to him when he’s in the loft and he almost breaks his neck and gives himself a concussion. He doesn’t. He manages to find the ladder and scramble down, getting to the boxes underneath the floorboards. He finds it, still bright and floral. A rush of guilt hits him for it still being down there. But it also feels like it was just waiting for him. He pulls the top off and moves the rest of it aside, finding what he wants at the bottom.

In the morning Eleven comes to breakfast and pauses, looking at the stack of books.

“Sit, eat,” Hopper says as she picks one up, studying the bright picture on the cover, “you know what that says?” He asks. She nods, “can you say it?”

“Green Eggs and Ham,” she says.

Hopper nods.

“It’s hard sometimes to talk to someone who doesn’t talk back,” he says and Eleven’s face falls, “but you can read to him,” he adds quickly.

Eleven looks at the bright books and then carefully moves them aside, taking the one at the bottom out of the stack. He immediately knows that he should have expected it. Expected that. She looks up at him and he nods. When she pushes herself back from the table he kicks himself.

“Eat first.”

She eats.

She goes in alone but he watches from the window as she sits in her usual spot, this time putting Mike’s hand on her knee so she can use both to hold the book. She goes back to the beginning. Hopper doesn’t even need to be in there to hear it, he’s heard the story so many times he’s practically got it memorized. He watches as her posture straightens, as her confidence slowly grows during even that first visit. Hoppers not sure if he believes the doctors when they say Mike can hear them, but if he can he’s pretty sure he’d be damn proud of her.

Anne and her Green fucking Gables don’t wake him up.

Nor does her Island, her Windy Poplars—not for the first time he’s glad Anne isn’t real or he’d have a lot of things to say. Like why is she in so many books, for one. Eleven reads all of them to Mike. At some point he vaguely thinks if he was in a coma he’d wake up to give her some life advice. But Mike stays still. Words like long term care are being floated around and it breaks his fucking heart. Not just because he knows deep down Wheeler’s a good kid, but because Eleven’s lost enough in her life. And even if she hadn’t, even if she had a perfect life he wouldn’t want her to lose him.

“Then, as she held out her hand, their eyes met and all doubt was swept away in a glad certainty. They belonged to each other; and, no matter what life might hold for them, it could never alter that,” she reads one day, falling silent. Hopper watches as she marks the page and sets the book to the side, picking up Mike’s hand. She closes her eyes. A part of him wants to stop her, a part of him wants to let her try, “Mike,” she says, her eyes still closed, “Mike!”

He feels the name echo in his bones and doesn’t understand what’s happening. But he isn’t sure he’s supposed to. He looks over at the machines as the endless lines change for the first time in weeks. He swears, loudly and runs over to the bed. Eleven doesn’t open her eyes as he pulls her away, but he swears he sees Mike’s fingers twitch. Try to hold on. He gets her into the chair near the bed and throws his coat over her, snatching the book back at the last minute. He doesn’t have to look winded or surprised when the doctors come running in. He fucking is. On both accounts.

They’re surprised, they can join the fucking club on that one.

“He’s waking up,” one of them says.

“No shit,” Hopper gets out. He looks at Eleven and swears. He’s gonna be sleeping in this god damn hospital room isn’t he? “How long?”

“It’s hard to say—“

“Guess,” he orders.

“A few days?”

“A few days?!”

It’s a few days.

Movement of the limbs is first, followed by his eyes starting to move. Eleven stops what she’s doing on the second day, much to his relief because the bloody noses are hard to hide. On the third day Wheeler wakes up properly. It happens right when everyone’s down in the cafeteria and they only went because he swore he’d be there. He didn’t think it’d actually happen. But it did and Wheeler immediately answers the questions he had about him being okay by fighting the ventilator he’s still on. Hopper has to use actual strength to hold the kid down.

“Calm down,” he orders, gripping his shoulder, “relax, don’t—hey, stop that. Look at me. Don’t fight it.”

Wheeler opens his eyes. They’re hazy but they react when they see him. He’ll forgive the disappointment in them, just this once. He holds him down and smacks the call button to get someone in here. At the same time he raises up the bed, though it’s not exactly going to make him more comfortable. The kids been through hell and back and the moment he looks over Hopper’s shoulder he lights up like a fucking Christmas tree.

“Mike!”

Hopper barely manages to keep his footing as he’s all but thrown from the bed. Eleven throws her arms around Mike’s shoulders and his hand comes around her waist as much as it can. Its the first time Hopper’s seen Eleven relax since this whole thing started. He’s relieved too. Relieved enough to not be worried that she’s gonna use her powers on the doctors. He does jerk his head towards the chair and she moves, but she keeps holding Mike’s had as they come into the room.

“Mr. Wheeler,” the doctor begins, shining the light in his eyes and making Mike wince, “welcome back.”

They perform some tests. The worst is when they take the ventilator out. It’s the first time they both looks scared, but Eleven grips his hand and the doctors have him cough. When he doesn’t stop coughing she rubs his back until he can. He looks up at her with tears still on his face and she leans close to hear him with the breathing mask covering his mouth and nose.

“I heard you,” he rasps.

“I tried to talk,” she says tearfully, “but—“ he squeezes her hand. Hopper sits back in the chair.

“Thank you,” he says, “you sounded great.”

He goes with Mrs. Wheeler to listen to the doctor because apparently he’s the designated guy for that around here. When they come back, Eleven is in a new spot, next to Mike. His head is on her shoulder, he’s falling asleep. Eleven is reading aloud as he dozes, propping the book up on her knees so she can keep their hands squeezed tight together.

“Do you think they’ll hyphenate?” Mrs. Wheeler asks.

At this rate, Hopper thinks, it’ll be a miracle if the Wheeler’s don’t kill him with the stress level they cause. Hell he’s the one who’ll wind up in the hospital bed at this rate. But Mrs. Wheeler looks pleased at his horrified reaction, pleased enough to slip away and give them a few moments more. She’s a way better person than he is. When they’re married they can dow whatever they want but if Wheeler’s moving his hands, they better stay off Eleven.

He goes back in the room.

[acrobat-elle]

Make A Wish (2/4)

Stuck in the Enchanted Forest after her wish was granted, Emma seeks out Killian. She doesn’t expect what she finds.

Endless thanks to @caprelloidea for reading over this for me.

Rating: M

Word count: 6883

Chapter 1  | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

  AO3 | FF.net

This picks up immediately where Chapter 1 left off. Regina fans, be warned: this isn’t the kindest chapter to her, but I tried to keep everything in canon.

All at once Killian’s kiss becomes deeper, nearly frantic as his left arm wraps around Emma’s waist while his hand presses up, sliding between her shoulder blades. He nearly lifts her off her feet, her toes just barely dragging on the ground and suddenly he’s not kissing her anymore, his face buried in the crook of her neck.

“Emma.” Her name is muffled against her skin, released on a shuddering exhale as he pulls her in tighter.

She closes her eyes and lets him hold her, her fingers running soft little circles through his hair as they sway in each other’s arms. “It’s me,” she gets out on a disbelieving laugh, halfway to crying. “I’m here. I’m here.”

His grip on her relaxes just the tiniest bit, her full weight finally starting to settle back on her feet but he doesn’t let her go, his mouth pressed to the skin of her neck as he breathes her in. He seems reluctant to pull away but he finally, finally leans back enough to look at her.

The utter disbelief on his face breaks her heart all over again, his hand settling softly on her cheek as he looks her over, taking in her face, her braid, her ridiculous dress - she’d toned down the princess clothing for her visit to the tavern but her outfit, the plainest she could find in her wardrobe, still must have been staggeringly expensive.

“You - I thought I’d - “ he shakes his head, stunned, like he’s trying to work through all the memories that have just come rushing back to him, all the things this alternate version of himself never knew he could have staring him in the face.

She smiles, trying to hold herself together for him. “I had to find you.”

She’s pulled into another hug, less crushing this time. “Thank the gods you did,” he whispers against her ear and she has to blink back tears at the relief in his voice.

When he pulls back he looks her over once more, a slow smile spreading over his face and even in the dim light it’s nearly blinding, the first real smile she’s seen since she took the seat across from him in that pub. “Look at you, Princess.”

It’s so like his old self to lighten the moment and she can’t help but laugh, lightly smacking his upper arm. “Look at you , old man.”

His grin widens, his hand finally leaving her lower back to scratch at his ear. “Joke all you want, Swan, but I’m still devilishly handsome.”

Her smile softens and she reaches up, taking his face in her hands. “You are.” Her thumbs trace the lines at the corners of his eyes and when he leans in his lips are soft against hers, the sweet, reassuring kiss of a man who knows how loved he is.

He keeps his forehead to hers when they break away. “Swan?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you, too.”

He kisses the smile that breaks out on her face, fifty years of new memories between them evaporating in the scant space between their lips. He sighs, a huge, shuddering breath that shakes the both of them, and then, so quietly she can hardly hear:

“Thank you.”

Emma’s throat tightens while she searches for a response. She finds none and settles for pulling him into her arms once again. He goes easily, his weight sagging against her but she doesn’t mind, not when she gets to be the one holding him up, just as he’s done for her so many times.

He’s shameless in the way he holds onto her, his nose nestled in the crook where her neck meets her shoulder. She lets him take what he needs to stand up straight again, long breaths and soft sighs against her skin, his hand pressing warmth into the small of her back. Truth be told, she needs it too, to simply hold and be held after the day she’s had. There’s so much to do, so much for them to talk about, but she silences the voice in the back of her head and closes her eyes, and for a few minutes they let themselves be still.

Emma hasn’t let herself do this much, not since those blissful six weeks that seem so long ago - days full of morning coffees and lunch dates and long weekends where they hardly left the bed, hushed conversations about their pasts and limbs tangling together between the sheets. When every day she fell a little bit more in love with him even if she wasn’t ready to admit it. She aches for the memory of that simplicity and he must feel it in her, the way her shoulders tense, and he presses a soft kiss against her neck before lifting his head to look down at her, one eyebrow raised and she knows whatever he’s about to say is an effort to distract her.

And damn him, it works.

“So, Swan… did we finally have True Love’s Kiss?”

His eyebrows actually dance in that ridiculous way only he can pull off, and she can’t stop her laughter. “I - I don’t think so,” she says, shaking her head in spite of her smile. “There wasn’t any curse to break. And there wasn’t any flash of light or some weird breeze all of a sudden, so…”

“Damn.” He doesn’t seem too put-out by it, pleased enough that he’s got her smiling again. “One of these days, surely.”

“Eh, maybe.” She shrugs. “I’d rather not ever have to break another curse again. What’s the last thing you remember? I mean, from the real world.”

“Your wish being granted. After that, nothing. How long have you been in this… reality?” he asks.

“Just a day.” She leans back but he doesn’t let go of her, his arms steady around her waist.

“I see.” He bites his lip, considering. “How did I get my memories back, then? It’s not a curse. And I’m - “ he glances down, then back to her, “ - this isn’t my body from the real world, obviously. Why do I look older?”

Her mind races, trying to come up with an answer and finding none. “I don’t… I have no idea,” she admits. “I should talk to Regina. She probably knows more about this stuff than I do.”

Killian looks shocked. “Regina? What, she’s here? How did she - ”

“Uh, yeah. I already told you in the tavern. She - “

“No, you told me the Evil Queen murdered your parents. What does - ” he falters, like he doesn’t want to believe it.

“She…” Shit. “The Evil Queen didn’t kill my parents. That was Regina.” It sounds ridiculous even to her own ears.

He finally lets her go, stepping out of her arms, his features torn between confused and horrified. “She what ?”

“She - “ Emma starts, but she can’t finish the sentence. She desperately tries another tack. “They weren’t real. She was trying to get me to remember. None of this is…” she trails off, the full implications of her words settling in.

She and Killian stare at one another, the air disappearing between them.

He swallows heavily, his gaze falling to the ground and then back to her, confused and scared and so, so hurt. “So I’m not - “

"No.” The force of her response shocks her but the feeling behind it doesn’t, and she’s in his space and gripping his elbows before she’s finished saying the word. “No, Killian. You’re - “ she pulls him in and doesn’t let him look away, and this version of himself has been thrown away too many goddamned times for it to happen again, she won’t let it.

“No,” she says firmly, reaching up to hold his face and it takes a few seconds but he finally relaxes just the slightest bit under her touch, like she’s finally getting through to him. But it’s not until she silently mouths I love you that he exhales, as though that’s all he needed, like that’s enough for him.

It’s not enough for her.

“I’m going to talk to Regina, and we’ll figure this out,” she says finally. He nods, and she forces a smile, and they both pretend that everything will be okay.

“He’s not real.”

Emma crosses her arms over her chest, her knuckles turning white as her fingers dig into her biceps. “No? Because he remembers. Everything.”

Regina sighs, throwing her arms out exasperatedly. “The real Killian is still in our world, trust me. I saw him with my own eyes before I came here.”

“Then how the hell does he remember?” She knows she’s yelling and doesn’t care a whit, not with these stakes. They’re isolated enough in this room at the far end of the castle, away from the prying eyes of the Royal Guard. Emma had ordered them to search far and wide for the Evil Queen, knowing it would distract them, at least in the short term, and provide enough cover to keep Henry and the rest of the kingdom from falling into a panic. The east wing (and the protection spells she and Regina had put on it) provided more than enough space to maintain the lie for a few days.

“This was your wish, right?” Emma doesn’t quite nod, but Regina takes it as enough to keep talking. “All right. So even if you didn’t really mean it at the time, you still had a passing thought that you didn’t want to be the Savior. Even if that was the case, would you still have wanted to live in a world with Killian in it? Even if you weren’t the Savior?”

Her jaw tightens. “Of course I would. He’s the… yes. I would.”

“Well, there you go,” Regina says, with a painful finality. “The man you wanted is here. But he’s not real.”

“He feels pretty goddamned real to me,” she says with an increasing intensity that Regina doesn’t quite pick up on.

“I know, but he isn’t,” she insists. “This entire world is built on a wish, Emma. This whole… thing depends on your presence here. As soon as we’re able to go back, they’ll disappear as if they never existed in the first place.”

Emma swallows heavily, clenching her teeth as she speaks. “So that’s it, then? A man lives a miserable life, is finally given some hope that his existence means something and that people love him, and then he just disappears? That’s it?”

“Look, I know you don’t like it, but - “

“Of course I don’t like it!” Emma yells, and Regina finally seems taken aback. “You’re seriously going to tell me this when you’re trying to convince Robin to come back with you?”

Regina flinches but holds her ground. “I’m not - “

“Oh, bullshit. Of course you are, so spare me. You’re way too happy to tell me none of this is real, but that sure as hell didn’t matter to you once Robin showed up.”

Regina’s face darkens. “Don’t you dare. If you were in my position, don’t tell me you wouldn’t try to - “

“Of course I would,” Emma cuts in. “But you murdered my parents in front of me.” She laughs, hollow and caustic. “You finally got to kill them! Was it everything you hoped it’d be?”

Regina blanches. “Look, that’s not - “

“Shut up. ” The force of Emma’s words is such that her magic crackles around her, not quite a warning but close enough.

“Emma, I - “

“No,” she cuts her off, and as angry as she’s ever been at Regina nothing can touch the rage she feels in that moment, for herself, her parents, and for the man she loves. “It’s funny, isn’t it? You didn’t bat an eye at killing my parents. You’re so damn quick to tell me they weren’t real, but you couldn’t think that way with Henry and you sure as hell aren’t thinking that way with Robin.”

Regina opens her mouth to speak, but Emma plows on before she can get a word in edgewise.

“You can justify it to yourself all you want, but they’re still people. They’re flesh and blood and they have memories, dammit.” Emma laughs again, short and rough and blindingly angry. “We wouldn’t even be having this conversation if you’d jumped through the damn portal in the first place. So right now the only thing you need to be worried about is figuring out how to get us back. Until then, don’t talk to me.”

Emma puffs away in a cloud of smoke before Regina can respond.

Killian sits on the bed in the room she materializes in, a startled blink his only reaction when she appears.

He nods resignedly, looking down to his feet. “I’d ask how it went, but I could hear you yelling.”

She sighs and crosses the room to sit next to him, her hands clenched in her lap. “Yeah, I think that about covers it.” She can’t really bring herself to say anything, but he takes care of that for her.

“So,” he says, his voice defeated. “It’s as you thought? I’m not - “

“You’re real,” she tells him fiercely. “I don’t give a shit what Regina says. And… if I - when I go back, she says this world will cease to exist.”

“Including me.” There’s no anger in his voice, only grim acceptance, and her hand finds his, their fingers lacing together.

“Killian…” she says helplessly, at a loss for what to say.

“Just give me a moment, love.” He doesn’t look at her as his thumb traces over her knuckles, gentle circles that would be soothing if she didn’t know the intent behind them. She leans into his shoulder and gives his fingers a light squeeze. There’s nothing to say, not really, so she stays quiet and lets him work through it all in his head while she waits. She presses a soft kiss to his shoulder before turning her head and resting her cheek against him. The set of his shoulders slowly relaxes and she allows herself to melt into him, lets him feel how comfortable he makes her even in the worst of times, and it’s a long while before she realizes they’re breathing in tandem, slow, even breaths perfectly in sync as they always are.

It takes awhile before she realizes he’s not going to speak first. When she takes it upon herself there’s only one thing she can say, the words coming as easily as breathing.

“I love you,” she tells him, soft and quiet. The words had been so hard for her before, no matter how true they were, but now she feels it so deeply and shamelessly that she wants to shout it from the rooftops, never wants to make him doubt her feelings for him ever again. And she can’t stop once she’s said it, desperate for him to know, to understand how important this is to her, to them , and she’s never been all that good with words but making him hear it is more important than any of her own hangups.

“I’ve met you so many times, Killian,” she gets out, and the words are awkward on her tongue but he needs to hear this. “A pirate, and a deckhand, and an old man who didn’t think he had anything to live for.”

“Emma - “

“No, just listen, please, I don’t know how to say - I just - “ she huffs, rolling her eyes at her lack of eloquence. She finally turns her head to look at him. “I don’t care what version of you I’ve met, it’s still you . I love all of them. You - this version of you - you’re not just some blip on the radar that I’m going to forget about when I go home. You’re - it’s you. It’s always you.”

He closes his eyes and breathes, and when he looks at her, finally, he seems to settle into himself, leaning in until their foreheads touch. “Have I ever told you how amazing you are?” he murmurs, his nose nudging hers.

“Once or twice,” she allows, a tiny smile pulling at her lips.

“Still terribly inarticulate, though.”

She smacks his shoulder a little harder than she intends to, but it makes him laugh nonetheless.

“Careful there, Swan. I’m an old man now, remember?”

“Oh, come on. You’ve always been old. Now you just look it, too.”

His smile turns wry. “Is it that bad?”

She grins. “Not at all.” She reaches up, scratching her fingers through the graying hair at his temple. “I kinda like it, actually.”

He hums in response, closing his eyes briefly at her touch before leaning in closer. “I know you can’t stay here forever,” he says, punctuating his words with soft kisses to her cheek, her temple, her chin. “You’ll find a way home like you always do, and I’ll do whatever I can to help you. But it would be a terrible shame if you didn’t let me make love to you before you go.”

His words have the same innuendo and humor they always do, but Emma doesn’t miss the hint of a plea in his tone. She keeps forgetting - even with his memories back this version of him never found love after Milah, wasting away in taverns for decades after losing his chance at vengeance. He was hardly able to let go of her when she went to talk to Regina, his fingers sliding regretfully from hers while she left him to wait alone before learning his fate.

This version of Killian hasn’t been loved in centuries, not really. It’s still one of her biggest regrets when she was in the Author’s storybook, that she never pulled a shy deckhand in close to kiss him, never told him he was worthy, never truly showed him that he could have more.

“God, yes,” she breathes. She’s hardly gotten the words out when his mouth claims hers, sweet but intense, an easy roll of his lips against hers while his tongue delves inside, curling around hers and coaxing quiet little moans out of her that muffle against his mouth as they open up to one another. It’s so deep, so soft the way they move together as he leans over her, pressing her down into the sheets.

Her thighs fall open as he settles above her, her knees lightly hugging his sides and she can’t help but grin when he lifts up, always the gentleman, eyebrow raised as his hand settles on her hip. “Are you certain you want to do this with an old man, as you so bluntly put it?”

Emma pointedly wraps her leg around the small of his back, rolling her hips up into his. “A devilishly handsome old man, remember?” she reminds him, and he grins. “But this’d be better without the clothes.”

He glances down, eyes roaming appreciatively over the swell of her breasts. “Perhaps, but I do have a fondness for you wearing a corset.”

“And I have a fondness for being able to breathe.” She rolls her eyes at his smirk. “Maybe you could develop a fondness for taking me out of a corset instead?”

His expression softens. “Aye.”

He shifts, taking her hand and bringing her upright, sliding off the bed and pulling her to stand with him. She shivers slightly at the loss of his body heat; the temperature has steadily dropped since sundown and as thick as the castle walls are, some of the chill from the outside air has crept in. Killian notices, of course. He wordlessly leads her across the room, bringing her to stand in the soft glow of the fireplace.

“Better?” he asks, the word soft against her ear as he moves to stand behind her, his hand sliding down her arm.

“Mmm-hmm.” She closes her eyes as he breathes her in, leaning back against him while she soaks in the heat of the fire. It may warm her skin but Killian’s presence seeps into her very bones, doing more to chase off the chill than the flames ever could.

“Now where were we?” he asks, his voice a low rumble that she feel against the side of her neck more than she hears.

“Corset,” is all she says, her voice breathier than she intended. He knows what this does to her, the light graze of his stubble against the sensitive skin near her throat causing goosebumps to erupt all over.

“Ah, yes.” She feels him smile against the back of her neck, it and her shoulders already exposed to him thanks to her intricate braid. His fingers drift across the skin he can see, reverent and feather-light until they stop between her shoulder blades, fingering at the laces there. “Did you put on this lovely thing just for my benefit when you came to the tavern?” he asks, warm breaths skittering over her skin as he pulls the knot free.

And oh, he definitely knows what he’s doing to her now, the way the tenor of his voice so close to her ear makes her go weak in the knees. She closes her eyes and lets it wash over her, more than happy to let him do as he wishes. “That was the original plan, yeah.”

“I may not have seemed interested,” he continues, slowly dragging the laces from the first set of eyelets down the back of her dress, a pace that will take ages for her to be fully undressed but she doesn’t care, not with his voice all around her and his mouth against her skin, “and I tried not to be, not when I realized who you were. But bloody hell, you were - are - so beautiful.” Another pull at the laces, another half-inch of skin revealed.

“I wanted you,” he confesses, his lips drifting over her jaw, and she tilts her head to give him better access. “I suppose I always will, no matter the reality, but it seemed so ridiculous, a beautiful young princess and an old pirate like me. But the more you spoke, the way you looked at me, Gods …”

She can’t go another moment without touching him, reaching up and over her shoulder to slide her fingers in his hair and he sighs contentedly, continuing to slowly work out the laces. “Killian…”

“Shhh.” He presses a kiss just below her ear. “Some part of me knew you. It drove me crazy, love, trying to suss out why you seemed so familiar. Why I wanted to kiss you so badly.” His mouth falls to her shoulder and he chuckles against her flesh. “And then you held my hand and told me you loved me.”

For all the heat he’s generated within her, roiling up deep in her belly and spreading until she’s buzzing from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, her chest tightens at his words, light and happy as they sound. Leave it to Killian to seduce her and pour his heart out at the same time.

He seems to sense it in her. “It’s all right, love,” he promises, unlacing her steadily but faster now, more than halfway down her back. She’s forced to let go of his head as he slides down, trailing his lips along her spine. “A few hours ago I was quite miserable and on my way to getting blindingly drunk. But now I’m here.”

Emma is thankful that the corset’s hold on her ribs has loosened and allows her to breathe deeply once more. She can’t even find it in her to speak after what he’s just told her but he doesn’t seem to expect her to, content to unlace the rest of her dress and press his lips to every inch of skin as it’s revealed to him. She focuses on that instead, the slow burn of arousal he’s building within her and the softness of his lips against her skin.

He finally finishes his task, wordlessly pulling the dress down over her hips and helping her step out of it. She toes off her dainty little ankle boots and reaches for her petticoats but he beats her to it, sliding them down over her hips, his hand leaving a hot trail against her leg as he goes.

She’s left in nothing but her thigh-high stockings when he stands; she starts to turn to face him but is stilled by his hand at her waist.

“Not yet, love.” Before she ask, his hand reaches over her shoulder, pulling at the tie that holds her braid together. “Relax,” he whispers.

And so she does, leaning against him once more as his fingers slowly unwind the strands. She knew he loved her hair considering how often he toyed with it, playfully tossing it with the tip of his hook or absentmindedly running his fingers through it whenever he kissed her. But he’s never taken the time to do this, quietly and methodically taking out her braid until it’s just the scratch of his nails against her scalp, combing out the last of it until it spills in waves over her shoulders, the last bit of tension melting from her body.

He finally turns her to face him, a murmured “Let me look at you” in her ear.

His eyes are dark as he takes her in, blue giving way to black in the light of the fire. She doesn’t miss the way the breath flies out of him as his gaze roams her body, aroused and delighted but, most of all, relieved. She knows the feeling, to finally have him before her after thirty years in this realm away from him. False memories or not, they still tug at her heart and mind as if she’d lived every day of them.

She reaches up, palm sliding against his cheek. “I missed you, too.”

Killian’s smile is grateful, for as much as he wears his heart on his sleeve Emma knows she needs to meet him halfway. He leans in, just a sweet brush of his lips against hers before pulling back, his hand skimming over her ribs. His left arm moves to do the same but he stops himself, looking down at the leather-clad false hand he wears. He stares at it for only a moment before reaching down and wrenching the attachment away, unbuckling his brace and tossing it aside as well.

“Do you still have your hook?” she asks, so quiet she wonders if he even heard her.

“Aye, hidden far away from here. It made me too easy to recognize and it’s not as though I needed it.” His voice is a tad bitter, but the feeling melts away when he’s able to reach up with both arms, hand and wrist tracing her sides.

His thumb skirts over her nipple as she gasps, keeping her eyes on his. “You never needed it.” She lets out a slow, controlled breath while his thumb traces soft circles over her, more sparks on the fire he’s stoking within her. “I love it,” she tells him, shivering at the memory of the cold steel tracing her skin, “but that’s not why I love you.”

“Emma.” His mouth devours hers but somehow the mood doesn’t shift, everything still slow and lazy between his arms in the warmth of the fire. His lips and tongue move smooth and sure against her and she relaxes and takes it, lets him move her how he likes and there’s something powerful in it, to let herself go so completely and let the man she trusts more than anyone take care of her.

But the instinct to do the same for him is just as strong - she pushes back just a little when he breaks away to breathe, her hands reaching for the laces at his waist, the idea of dropping to her knees and taking him as far as he can go in her mouth scorching her thoughts. But his hand and wrist still her while his lips nip at hers.

“Later, love.” He’s as breathless and wrecked as she feels, and it’s the only thing that keeps her from protesting the heat of his hand at her hip. The way he kisses her, God, so much packed into such a simple gesture.

She chuckles against his mouth. “I can’t believe you just turned down a blowjob.”

His eyebrow shoots up. “Who said I turned anything down?” He doesn’t stop her as she reaches for the buttons on his vest, letting out a laugh of his own when her mouth finds the tendons on his neck. “I’ve got all night if you do.”

“Got it. Sex first, blowjobs later.” She doesn’t care what order they go in, she just needs to see him too, to feel his skin against hers. The vest goes easily and then she’s tugging at his shirt, not even bothering with the buttons before lifting it over his head.

Killian raises his arms obligingly as she undresses him, an amused little smile on his face as she tosses the offending garment away. “Is this a race?”

His question is laced with good humor but it sobers her anyway. “...a little bit, yeah,” she admits, her hands stilling against the laces of his trousers. She lifts her eyes slowly, taking him in as he stands before her.

He’s heavier than before, most of the familiar tan and  muscle tone lost after years away from sailing, and also just… years. It’s another ache in her chest, yet another chance she missed, how he’d been here in this world the whole time, not more than a few miles from the castle where she thought she’d never find love again. It’s another chance he missed.

Her hands find his chest, fingers scratching through the hair now peppered with gray and he may look different but it’s still him. When she finally meets his eyes there’s understanding in the way he looks at her, his breath catching as her hands slide down his abdomen to rest at his waist.

“Sorry,” she says. “I really know how to bring the mood down, don’t I?”

“Swan, you’re standing naked before me. I don’t think that’s possible.”

Perhaps it’s the deadly serious way he says it, or the fact that motion of his left eyebrow is even more pronounced and ridiculous than usual, but her startled laugh is long and loud. She’s rewarded with the lines around his eyes deepening as he fights his own smile. “God, I love you,” she finally breathes out, and that’s what makes his expression break, his grin even more appealing in the light of the fire.

He leans in, brushing his lips over hers. “And I you.” He presses even closer, his mouth just brushing against her ear while his hand slides down her belly, stopping just short of where she wants him. “You may have your ideas about how this night should go, but I’ve got my own as well. Would you like me to show you?” he asks, dangerous and low, pressing down with two fingers and sliding lower and lower still, so close now, heat pooling between her legs in anticipation.

She’s gripping his upper arms now, eyes closed and waiting. “Yes.”

“Good.” Her breath puffs across his chest when his fingers slide home, gathering the wetness there and tracing slow, deliberate circles against her flesh with exactly as much pressure as he knows she likes, nothing light or teasing about his touch as her toes curl into the floor. “Go lie on the bed, love.“ He punctuates his words with one last press of his hand that makes her moan. “And leave the stockings on.”

Fuck. She makes it to the bed on wobbly legs, falling back against the pillows and watching as he divests himself of his boots and trousers before climbing up to join her. He settles over her, propped up with his knee between hers, and there it is again - that same astonished, relieved look on his face he’s had ever since his memories returned.

“Hey,” she says, her hand finding his face. “You okay?”

His smile is on the sheepish side. “Aye. It just feels like it’s been so long.”

“I know. But hey, we’ve got all night, right?”

His nose nudges hers, his weight beginning to settle on top of her. “Right.”

It’s not that Emma had ever disliked kissing (she enjoyed it very much, in fact), but Killian positively adores it. Soft pecks on the cheek, frantic and hurried clashes of lips and teeth, or deep and slow - it didn’t matter. The man could devote hours to her mouth, chuckling against her lips and stroking her tongue with his long past the point when she wanted to push things further, content with long, lazy makeout session on the couch before she hit her breaking point and dragged them upstairs to bed (if they even made it that far).

But he’s slowly brought her around to his way of thinking and she’s giving the man any damn thing he wants tonight. She welcomes his weight, the scratch of his chest hair against her breasts electric as she slides her hands up his ribs to settle on his back while he nips and teases at her lips before plunging inside, his mouth hot and inviting and so, so good.

It’s a surprise when he suddenly tugs at her lower lip with his teeth and rolls his hips against hers, the length of him sliding over her clit as she gasps into his mouth.

“Fuck, Killian, right there,” she groans, lifting her hips and chasing more.

He gives her one, two more rolls of his hips before backing away, but before she can chase after more he’s sliding down, catching her nipple in his mouth with just a hint of teeth before swirling his tongue and pulling off with a soft little pop.

“God, you’re such a tease,” she laughs, burying her hands in his hair.

“Is that so? Would you prefer my mouth elsewhere?” he asks before shifting his attentions to her other breast, giving it the same treatment before lifting his head to look at her, raising one expectant eyebrow.

She could continue their banter, sass him right back and let him drag it out, but he’s worked her up so artfully she’s beyond caring how shameless she seems. “Please,” she begs.

His eyes darken at the desperation in her voice, and he presses one last kiss to her chest before sliding lower. His hand skates over the soft silk of her stocking before fingering at the lace at the top, skimming over her thigh, seemingly mesmerized by the garment. Emma makes a mental note to get a set for herself once she gets back home, only for her heart to seize in her chest once more.

To get back to Killian, she’ll have to leave him again.

“Promise me you’ll get a pair of these once you get back home,” he says, still toying with the lace at her thigh. When he looks up again, his smile is wry. “I quite like them.”

She nods, swallowing heavily before speaking. “And you got to see me in them first.”

His smile grows, becoming more genuine as he leans over her once more. “That I did.” His kiss is swift and pointed. “Now enough melancholy, love. I do believe I was about to make you come on my tongue.”

She grins. “Better get to it then, Captain.”

“As you wish.”

He’s no longer teasing when he settles between her legs, sliding his arm under her thigh to draw her leg over his shoulder, his hand resting on her hip as he dips his head. As long as she lives, in any universe, nothing she’s ever seen is as erotic as Killian’s head between her thighs, and she sighs at the sight, carding her fingers through his hair.

Killian does truly adore kissing her, and not just her mouth.

And that’s how he starts, a soft kiss pressed to her clit as she hums in approval, scratching her nails along his scalp. It’s not a tease, not when she knows how he works, the way he slowly builds until she clawing at the sheets and pushing her hips into his face.

He’s always been brilliant at this, slow laps of his tongue over her nerves and then a few soft passes inside her, nothing that will make her come but so good all the same. Her heartbeat thunders in her ears as he increases the pressure, reducing her entire being to the small space just below his mouth, one long swipe of his tongue before he closes his lips over her clit and sucks.

She’d been content to lie back and melt under his lips and tongue but that’s what finally makes her hips buck, the slow rhythm he sets as his mouth pulls at her flesh, the soft little pulses of his tongue setting her on fire and she chases after it, the way the pressure starts building at the base of her spine and the tops of her thighs, all of it pulling inward to where he’s methodically working her over and pulling her apart.

He’s ready for it, his wrist pressing down on her abdomen, not letting her fuck his face as he sometimes does, making her lie still and take it while he pulls her higher and higher. She hangs on and waits for the feel of his fingers, the way he’ll curl them inside her when he knows she’s getting close, but they don’t come and she’s too far gone to ask for it, knows that he can make her come just like this, just like he promised.

Her moans grow higher and he’s pulling her close, so close and her skin feels too tight as he pulls and sucks with his mouth and she’s almost there, just a few more -

He pulls away abruptly, a shock to her senses and before she can move, can even think he’s lifting up, lining himself up and burying himself inside her in one hard stroke. He slides easily, she’s so open and wet and ready for him, and he presses in and grinds his pelvis to her clit, rolling his hips against her.

She comes instantly, the sudden gratification of being filled and the extra pressure on her clit finally letting her coil tight and then release, clenching around him while he fucks her through it. She grips at his shoulders wraps her legs around his waist while she rides it out, surprised and sated and giddy as it subsides, relaxing underneath him to take his thrusts with a delighted laugh. Someday he’ll stop finding new ways to surprise her.

He smiles at her reaction, slowing his hips to lean down and kiss her. “Good?”

“So good,” she giggles, hazy and buzzing and happy. “God, do what you need to come, just - “

“I won’t last long,” he warns her, his voice tight.

“Mmmm, don’t care, just come, that was amazing, don’t stop - “

He doesn’t answer with words but speeds up his hips. She does her best to lift up to meet him and knows he likes it by the sounds he makes, the way his moans rise in pitch when she finds her rhythm with him. She won’t come again this way and doesn’t care, wants to watch him fall and pushes the hair off his forehead as he moves, smiling when his eyes meet hers.

He’s right, it doesn’t take much for him to get close, a steady build as his thrusts grow faster and his moans less restrained. His forehead drops to hers when he comes, stilling against her and pulsing inside of her while she holds him, her hands at his back and her legs around his waist.

Their breathing slows together and he can’t help but smile when he opens his eyes, every bit as pleased and sated as she feels. He doesn’t quite giggle with her but it’s a near thing, his chuckles joining hers and for Emma it’s the best kind of sex, when it’s so good there’s nothing left to do but grin at each other and laugh, when words can’t do it justice.

His kiss is different when he leans in, sweet and grateful and she wants to wrap the moment up and keep it with her forever. It can’t last, though, and the moment finally breaks when he pulls away to deal with the petty realities of the situation, leaving the bed to fetch a rag from the water basin in the corner of the room.

He’s gentle and quiet when he cleans her up, tossing the cloth aside before pulling back the covers, an unspoken invitation she answers immediately. His arm finds its way around her shoulder when she sidles up to him, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to her forehead as they settle under the covers. On any other night she’d close her eyes and let sleep pull her under; instead she laces her fingers together and settles them on his chest, propping her chin there to look up at him.

“So,” she finally says, a slow smile spreading over her face. “All night?”

His eyes soften. “Aye, love.” His hand finds her hair, his thumb tracing soothing circles over her temple. “All night.”

*

Chapter 3