#avoiding her new painful emotions and then tearing through her walls if it means saving imogen | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nctsworld · 4 years ago

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the yuletide boyfriend

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ your one wish this year is to not be single during the holidays. yangyang, as your best friend, takes it upon himself to be your temporary boyfriend. soon enough, both parties begin to wish this new arrangement could last beyond the holidays. // part of the x-mas in ncity collection WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ implied ‌anxiety attack (during the first part of dec 24th – skip if need to), smut, mutual m*sturbation, couch s*x, angst, miscommunication, swearing RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ mature TAGLIST ⇾ @infnteen

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ this is my longest fic to date and also... might be my worst b/c i feel like the angst plot points don’t really make sense... but i hope y’all still enjoy!!!

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit!

NOVEMBER 30th

“So, anything special on your wishlist this year?”

Your best friend, Yangyang, asks you as you two sit next to each other on one of the many plush lounge couches in the Psychology building. It’s the usual lunch spot where you meet with him during your break between lectures.

The Psych building held much sentimental value for both of you because you met in Psych 101 during first year. Fast-forward three years later, neither of you expected to be the close friends that you are today.

Chewing your sandwich, you ponder on his question for a bit. Through the transparent glass walls leading to outside, you see the trickle of students heading towards the building since class is about to start for the noon round of lectures. A couple, you assume by the tight hand-holding and nose kissing, giggles as they enter the building, glued to one another by the hip.

“Not really.” You drop your head downward to your lunch container, smiling to yourself. “I’m honestly just happy to have Mark in my life, especially at this point in the year.”

Yangyang nods in accordance and smiles too, understanding the story behind your sentiment.

The boyfriends you’ve had since first year have always broken up with you before the holidays, right before the end of November. Since you only became close during second year, Yangyang’s been around for two out of three of your cursed holiday break-ups.

To have Mark, your latest boyfriend, be with you and it being already December tomorrow, it was truly a blessing for you and a silver lining that maybe this was the year to break the curse. Yangyang was grateful too, wanting you to have the utmost happiness.

You take another bite of your sandwich and tilt your chin toward the ramen eater.

“You?”

Yangyang slurps a few more noodles before he answers.

“I mean, the new Playstation would be nice,” he hums, mouth full.

Pointing the tip of your sandwich, you joke, “I’ll get it for you, but only if we share custody over it.”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head during a mid-slurp. “You know I can’t promise that.”

Both of you laugh in unison, living in the calm before the oncoming storm.

DECEMBER 5th

The E-Sports club for the university is hosting a party tonight and because Yangyang’s on one of the professional teams, he asked a few weeks ago if you and Mark wanted to attend. Of course you accepted; Mark also had some friends in the club.

However, when you text Yangyang in the afternoon, stating a change of mind, he knows something’s off.

Half an hour before the party starts, Yangyang decides to visit you. Thankfully you both lived on campus, but even if you lived across town, he’d still bus out to see how you were doing. He does it all the time to visit his family, anyway.

In the living room, the two sudden knocks at your door startle you. Peering through the peephole, you see the usual sight of your best friend, his lips curled upward and thumbs tucked in his pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet.

It feels like an eternity for him when you unlock your door. The hinges squeal as you open it hesitatingly, your face barely appearing through the agape crack.

Immediately, his smile dissolves. Your face is drained and blood-shot eyes avoiding his own confront him.

Yangyang has only seen you cry twice in the three years he’s known you:

Once, when you were freaking the fuck out over potentially failing a course (but, on the upside, you ended up passing the final to save your grade).

The second time was at his house for a family dinner, when his mom accidentally added too much hot chili sauce to her homemade beef noodle soup (let’s just say you weren’t the only one crying that night).

Those were tears of dread and physical discomfort.

But this… this was crying he’s never seen from you before. His chest collapses inward, fearful of the reason behind your tears.

His voice shakes as he asks, “What happened? Are you okay?”

Neither of you are major huggers and only exchange them on the rare occasion.

However, this situation screams the necessity of it, so Yangyang lunges towards you, the collision swinging the door out of the way. His arms embrace you like a large, warm blanket. Comforting and safe.

Despite the affection, emptiness has taken over your body. Tonight, you’re a dead, empty shell of who you normally are.

You feel weak to the bone, but you muster up enough energy to scarcely raise your arms over his back to return the hug. Your eyes are dry from all the crying you’ve done all day, but apparently you have more tears left in you to spare.

Your eyelids snap shut and your jaw clenches.

“Mark broke up with me.”

Your words are muffled into his shoulder, but Yangyang hears it crystal clear.

You break down, sobbing out of control over the statement.

As aforementioned, Yangyang’s been around for your last two, now three, break-ups. Sure, he’s aware of how grumpy and distant you can get, but you never cried in front of him. You made an effort to never have him see you at your lowest point.

And yet, here you are, drowning him in your misery. Guilt washes over you for drenching his bomber jacket, but Yangyang couldn’t give two shits. His arms squeeze tighter while he rubs your back tenderly.

After several minutes pass and your waterworks abate, you peel away from him. You sniffle and rub your nose with the back of your hand.

“Sorry about cancelling last minute.”

“Hey, no need to apologize,” he whispers soothingly.

“I’m just… so fucking frustrated.”

With fatigued eyes, you drag yourself back inside your apartment. Yangyang discreetly closes the door behind him and hurriedly uses his feet to push off his shoes. As he does so, your mouth begins to run off while you slowly pace around aimlessly.

“Fucking done with boyfriends, especially when they think it’s so fucking awesome to keep breaking up with me right before the holidays.”

He kicks off his last stubborn shoe and catches you raking your hands through your hair, pulling it back firmly. Your lips are trembling, along with your entire frame.

“Like I get that I’m horrible and needy and emotional—”

His mouth opens, wanting to cut in to disagree with you with all his heart, but he clamps it back shut and swallows, allowing you to blow your steam off.

“—but can’t they wait until the fucking new year? I don’t know, or maybe just don’t date me in the first place! I don’t know, I don’t fucking know anymore. I’m just cursed, Yangyang...”

You flop down onto the couch and sink into the ocean of shiny pleather, shutting your eyes and trying to stop crying for the nth time. The deep sting behind your eyelids pain you, but it pains Yangyang more to watch the events unfolding ahead of him.

Unsure of what to say, Yangyang walks around the room. His gaze falls on your laptop screen and he frowns at the mostly bare Word document that stares back at him:

“WISHLIST: -KEEP ONE (1) FUCKING BOYFRIEND DURING THE CHRISTMAS SEASON!!!!!!!! GOD FUCKING SDKMFLDS”

There are a few more lines below it with more profanities and keyboard smashing. He quickly darts away, a pang of guilt striking for invading your privacy.

Then, he turns to you on the couch again. You’re now covering your eyes with your forearm, pressing your lips together. His chest twists and his throat is arid as a desert.

You’re in shambles and he’s dying to pick up the shattered pieces of you, wants to glue you back together. On a regular basis, Yangyang’s a talking machine and can talk your ear off for hours, but right now, he doesn’t know what to say to you in your current state. He second-guesses himself, wonders if he’s even that great of a friend if he can’t comfort you in your worst times.

Blowing out a long sigh and removing your arm, you speak aloud, “You should get going to the party.”

Like awakening from a deep slumber, you rise up sluggishly and sit up on the couch, slouched over. The other figure in the room steps closer to you.

“Sorry about your jacket, by the way,” you say. Your body is still, but your glazed eyes move to the dark spot on the middle of his shoulder. He glances at it and shrugs.

“It’s better like this anyway,” he says with a gentle smile, and the tight knot in his heart softens at the flicker of your own smile, albeit a small one. Unfortunately, it fades in a few seconds. “I don’t want to leave you like this, though.”

You stare at the used, crumpled balls of tissues scattered on the living room table. Some also ended up on the floor. Break-ups are shit and 98% inevitable, but you know you’ll eventually get over it. You always do.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

He raises an eyebrow, as if asking, “Are you sure?” The lack of a worded reply causes you to notice the question written on his face.

“Go,” you plead with a feeble laugh. “Have fun for me.”

Both of you head towards your front door again. Crossing your arms, you lean your head against the door frame and attempt a smile for your best friend.

“Thanks again for checking up on me.”

Yangyang nods with a half-smile, half-pout, “Of course.”

You give him a departing wave prior to sealing your door.

Usually, Yangyang would bus from your place to the student union building, where the party is being held. Instead, he zippers up his jacket and stuffs his fists into his pockets, opting to bear the early winter chill to walk his thoughts off. His blazing self-doubt burns at first, but he overcomes it by focusing on ideas to fix your accursed dating rut instead.

Halfway through the walk, a light bulb moment occurs. A plan begins to brew on the surface of his mind and he thinks on it for the rest of the week.

DECEMBER 11th

It’s been almost a week since you last saw Yangyang.

Finals started already, so classes were done for the semester and thus, your lunch meet-ups halted too. On top of that, since you were simultaneously moping and studying, you hadn’t really texted him much, nor had he, besides the occasional check-up text on how studying was going and random memes. Yangyang knew you preferred time alone to heal and he respected that.

He also thought six days was enough time to get yourself back on your feet.

Yangyang’s at your front door once again, but this time with two bowls of his mom’s beef noodle soup in tow.

“Long time, no see,” you greet. Your tone is chipper, but your eyes look heavy, which could be partially from studying, Yangyang thinks. His smile deepens, content that you seem a lot better than the last time he visited.

“Delivery for two,” he raises the bag in his hand.

“And if I told you I already ate dinner?” you playfully retort.

The boyish man shrugs defeatedly, “Then I’ll tell my mom you hate her cooking—”

“You didn’t say it was your mom’s, Yangyang. Oh, my God,” you gasp, half-mockingly. You rush to grab the bags out of his hand and stroll towards your tiny kitchen. “Start off with that next time.”

As you remove the containers from the bag and onto the granite countertop, Yangyang shuts the door and takes his shoes off.

“So, I’m gonna be upfront and say that I may have come here with a proposal.”

“Changed your mind about the shared custody of the Playstation?”

“I’m still considering that one.” Finally in his socks, he slings his backpack off his shoulder and plops it onto the couch along with his jacket. He stands next to you by the counter. “But it’s on the same page as that. Remember that day we were talking about wishlists?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum as you rip off the lid of one of the bowls. Blatant wisps fly upward and you inhale the savoury aroma, followed by a heavenly sigh.

“Last time I was here… I might’ve seen what you wrote on your laptop.”

Your expression immediately changes into full-on cringe. You bring a palm over to your face.

“Oh, God. Let’s not talk about that. That was just weepy, lonely me talking.”

Yangyang pops off the lid for his bowl and steps into your kitchen, rummaging through your drawers for chopsticks. “So you’re telling me you don’t want a boyfriend for Christmas?”

Your hand flies off your face. Eyes widening, you spew, “Do you have a boyfriend in your pocket, ready for me to have?”

In your open hand, he places a pair of chopsticks into it. “Well, actually, I was thinking—”

Sternly, you point the chopsticks at him. “Don’t you dare set me up with your friends.”

He counters and points his at you, “Even better than that.”

With your interest piqued, you slide yourself onto the counter stool and mix the noodles around, anticipating to hear Yangyang’s fantastic plan. Your friend sits on the other stool, facing you. He pauses for a second, taking a deep breath.

“Why don’t I be your boyfriend for the holidays?”

You freeze, and the noodles’ drips above your bowl are deafening to both individuals. Laughing awkwardly, you break your frozen state to drop your chopsticks and turn your head to look at him.

Sputtering, you say, “What?”

Unnerved, his mouth pinches to one side, thinking maybe he shouldn’t have even said anything in the first place. This was stupid, so stupid, but it’s out in the open and Yangyang already dug his grave—he may as well lay in it.

“Well, for one, it’s something on your wishlist that I can easily get,” he pauses mid-sentence, glancing upward in thought. “Well, really, fill? Is that a better way to put it?”

He continues, eyes back on you, “And two, I’m not setting you up with a stranger or someone you wouldn’t be comfortable with. I assume you know me well enough that you’re comfortable around me?”

Yangyang lifts an upturned palm and raises an eyebrow, waiting for a response to his assumption. Petulantly, you shake your head playfully and stick out your tongue at him.

Rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze drops down to the floor for his last point. His voice lowers.

“And, I don’t know, we’d just hang out like we usually do during that time, except we’d do more couple-y things.”

Realizing the implication of his words, he widens his eyes. “I mean, we'll do whatever you’re comfortable with, obviously. We don’t have to do any of the physical stuff—”

You burst into a giggle at his rambling and hold a hand out, cutting him off. “Okay, Yang. I get it.”

Yangyang watches your next moves carefully. You’re peering off to one side and picking at the tips of your fingers. After a minute that feels like forever, you nod slowly.

“I guess you have a point. We are sorta like a couple already.”

Your best friend sighs in relief, grinning that you’re not outright rejecting the idea.

“So,” you meet his eyes and bunch a shoulder up towards your ear. “We’ll just be a couple until what, New Year’s?”

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugs indifferently. “Whatever you want. It’s your Christmas wish.”

You chuckle and shake your head in disbelief that you two are actually making an agreement for Yangyang to be your temporary, holiday boyfriend.

Honestly, it’s a little crazy... but maybe it’s the perfect thing to get your mind off of Mark and the handful of holiday exes hanging above your head.

“Okay, since my last final is on the 21st, let’s start ‘dating’ then and we’ll play everything by ear, see how it goes.”

Yangyang bobs his head eagerly. “Sounds good, soon-to-be girlfriend.”

He sticks a hand out for you to shake. You take it firmly, sealing the deal and flashing him a grin.

“Soon-to-be boyfriend.”

Although the night goes on like usual between the two of you, you couldn’t deny how ecstatic you are to finally have a boyfriend during the holidays, even if it was technically your best friend as a stand-in.

DECEMBER 21st

Tonight’s your first date with Yangyang.

That sounds weird to say, you admit to yourself, but it’s the truth.

After you stroll out of your last final of the semester, Yangyang’s waiting for you inside near the main exit of the building with several layers on, including his hoodie over his head and a knitted scarf underneath. His attention leaves his phone and he stuffs it into pocket as he notices you heading over.

“Hey, girlfriend,” he welcomes you, beaming.

You snicker at the unfamiliar label. You wonder if you’re going to get used to this, even if it’s only for two weeks.

“Hey, boyfriend,” you grin harder as the word falls from your lips, trying your best not to outright burst into laughter. “Where we heading off to?”

Although you said both of you could play the dating by ear, Yangyang’s been keen on scheduling plans for the upcoming days. You told him he didn’t have to, however, he insisted by saying that he wouldn’t only be a horrible boyfriend, but a horrible friend if he couldn’t make the next weeks fun for you.

Yangyang was anything but a horrible friend, and the fact that he was willing to be your holiday boyfriend to make you happy proved it further. Nevertheless, you gladly let him take the reins.

“I was thinking the movies tonight? See the latest Marvel film?”

Concurring to the idea, you scurry towards the bus stop and are movie-theatre bound to the nearest one off-campus. Arriving at the theatre, Yangyang and you buy your tickets and a popcorn to share, then head into the respective auditorium where the movie is playing. Since the movie’s been running for a couple of weeks, the auditorium is fairly empty, giving you two the chance to snag perfect middle seats with nobody else is in the row.

Up to this point, aside from the name-dropping of boyfriend and girlfriend, this feels less like a date and more like any other hang-out with him. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing awkward.

But that changes during a third of the movie.

You’re both so immersed by the screen that neither party notices the other’s hand when both of you reach for the popcorn in Yangyang’s lap at the same time.

A jolt runs through as your hands brush together. The duo’s eyes tear away from the screen and flit to the action happening in real-time. The touch lingers for several moments.

“Sorry,” you quickly mumble, drawing your hand back slightly, but still hovering over the popcorn.

“Uhm,” Yangyang licks his lips and visibly gulps under the screen’s bright glare.

He whispers, his voice almost cracking, “As your boyfriend, can I hold your hand?”

Okay, this is just your best friend, acting as your temporary boyfriend, asking to hold your hand. No big deal, no big deal at all.

Yet, the thunderous knocking in your ears, louder than the explosions blasting through the theatre’s speakers, suggests otherwise.

You don’t even register it, but you’re already nodding in response. Your breathing slows to the rate of Yangyang’s hand inching over. At the anticipated contact, you gasp softly. His smooth fingers clasp over yours. Since the arm rest in the middle of you is positioned upward, there’s no obtrusion and you relax, letting your hands mingle in between the empty space.

Without looking at one another, both of you smile bashfully to yourselves as you try to continue to focus on the screen.

After a while, because you aren’t exactly holding hands, you spread your fingers, hastily doing so because you don’t want him to think you’re breaking the interaction, and twist your palm to properly interlock hands with him. You give Yangyang’s hand a warm, gentle squeeze. He does the same and even strokes his thumb against your skin.

Talk about playing everything by ear. Who knew you’d be hand in hand on the first date?

You attempt to not think much on it, but Yangyang’s hand in yours feels... so right, like your hand was made for this, for his to hold. Like you should’ve done this way sooner.

And if Yangyang’s thoughts could be heard, he’s thinking the same.

Despite the mutual fear of sweaty palms, neither of you desire to let go, so much that you not only hold hands during the rest of the movie, but throughout the bus ride back to campus and all the way until he escorts you to your front door.

With a certain charge in the atmosphere, you exchange sweet good-byes. That night, after the culmination of stress from finals and your worries of your holiday exes, you finally have a peaceful sleep, looking forward to your date with Yangyang tomorrow.

DECEMBER 22nd

“Babe, how do I look?”

“Very pretty, honey.” A bundled up Yangyang winks at you from behind his phone.

The second date is an evening at a Christmas light festival at a botanical garden on the outskirts of town. The lights illuminate so strongly; there was a glowing dome-like hue over the location that seemed to reach the dark sky as you got off the bus.

When stepping foot into the garden, all the encompassing lights mesmerize you. Lights on the various greenery, lights as decorative art pieces, lights lining the pathways. Different shades of colours and shapes engulf the massive area.

Yangyang’s currently in the middle of taking your photo near an arch tangled with dark blue, gold, and white bulbs. All night long, you’ve been mockingly using endearing terms, but, despite the frigid air, your cheeks heat up over something else he just said.

“You think I’m pretty?” you genuinely ask, breaking your pose.

He lowers his phone a bit, his jaw dangling.

“Uh, I mean,” he giggles awkwardly, nodding softly. “Yeah.”

Yangyang never told you, but he initially sat near you in Psych 101 because he thought you were the most stunning girl in the class. And sure, he was a little disappointed at the time to find out you had a boyfriend, but that didn’t mean you two couldn’t still be friends. Other than the first few weeks he had a crush on you, he’s never thought of you as more than a friend.

But those feelings are resurfacing, hitting him in the chest like a bag of bricks, due to moments like this one—you’re batting your eyelids, gaze straying elsewhere, and adorably chewing on your lower lip.

“And you’re not just saying that as my holiday boyfriend?”

Pouting to one side, he shakes his head cutely. “Mm-mm.”

On the flipside, the beginning with Yangyang for you was strictly platonic. You were dating Haechan at the time you met him. When Haechan broke up with you later that fall, you kept a distance from dating for a while, heartbroken from the high school love gone sour. During that period, you never told him, but you did run through the possibility of dating Yangyang since you got along so well... until you met Jaemin earlier the next semester, who stole your heart. Ever since then, you’ve never seen Yangyang under that light again.

Despite that, you can’t deny how attractive he is, and now that you’re single and technically dating him, you embrace the fact with open arms.

Beaming as bright as the lights, you tug him by the end of his puffer jacket’s sleeve to bring him closer to you.

“C’mon, handsome, let’s take some pictures together.” Prickles rise under Yangyang’s cheeks from the off-hand compliment.

Holding your phone up in the air at about an arm’s length away, the side of your heads touch to prepare for a few selfies. When you finish capturing them, Yangyang’s hovering over your shoulder as you scroll through to glance through the photos.

“We look good together,” you comment. “Don’t you think?”

In sync, your heads turn to meet each other. Your eyes waver from the blatant clouds of your breaths and over to his lips. The clouds become rapid bursts as you begin to lean forward. So does Yangyang.

“Do you guys want a picture together?” someone suddenly asks. The abrupt voice drags you both apart instantly, crushing the moment into pieces.

“Sure,” you peep, fumbling to hand your phone over to the stranger.

Posing, Yangyang’s hand rests around the middle of your back, which is the norm when you take pictures with him, but he pulls you in snugly. You smile even wider, relishing in the new-level of intimacy and allow yourself to be truly content among his presence.

“You guys are such a cute couple,” the stranger gushes while they return your phone prior to walking away.

“I guess we are, huh, babe?” you jut your tongue out in jest at him. This time, you indulge in the endearing term without a sliver of mockery.

Yangyang copies you, jutting his tongue out further than yours, and seizes your hand to continue the tour around the gleaming garden.

The almost-kiss isn’t mentioned for the rest of the night, nor is it acted upon, but both individuals dwell on the near occurrence before sleep that evening, staring longingly at their bedroom ceiling.

DECEMBER 23rd

For the third date, you find yourselves at the campus’ dedicated ice rink arena to partake in ice skating.

You’ve skated a few times in the past, but you’re by no means a pro. On the other hand, this is apparently Yangyang’s first time, and he’s already skating circles around you.

“Show off,” you grumble as he does another lap past you. Your gloved hands are splayed out in front of you, careful not to fall flat on your face.

Turning on his blades, he rebounds over to you.

“Sorry,” he pants. His raised cheeks glow an adorable shade of pink. “This is really fun when you get the hang of it.”

Yangyang intertwines his fingers with yours before you can say anything. “C’mon, take my hand.”

At first, it was sweet to skate alongside your holiday boyfriend, notwithstanding the few times you almost trip. As the minutes pass, you think you’re getting the hang of it, but suddenly, Yangyang unleashes your hand and glides ahead of you, abandoning you to slide at a swift pace that is definitely out of your comfort zone.

“Yangyang, what the fuck?!” you screech, completely disregarding the handful of surrounding parents with their kids, the former sending daggers your direction. Your ankles struggle to make a T-shape to stop, but the struggling only somehow makes you move faster.

As he spins to face you, now skating backwards with ease, he says, “See, you got the hang of it-oomph—”

Air’s struck from his lungs when you crash into his body. Thankfully, Yangyang skids his blades harshly against the ice and is able to steady and support you within his arms.

“You little fucker,” you gripe, lightly punching him in the arm.

He chuckles blithely, “Sorry, but it was kinda funny, you gotta admit.”

You breathe a large huff, which makes you note how your hair is falling over your face after the catastrophe. You’re about to lift your hand to rearrange the strands, but Yangyang beats you to it and is in the midst of tucking them behind your ear.

The knocking in your ears reappears with a vengeance and the physical source of the knocking is thrashing violently against your chest.

Your scorching breaths fuse in the refrigerated rink as Yangyang eliminates the inches of space between, his plush mouth ultimately converging with yours.

You have to constantly remind yourself to breathe under Yangyang’s intensity, and remind yourself that you’re in a public space and shouldn’t be making out like this.

But everyone’s skating around the couple, daring to not disrupt the affectionate display.

God, you don’t know when was the last time you’ve been kissed like this. Have you ever even experienced a kiss that was a fraction of this? Yangyang daintily cups your cheeks like you’re glass, but his lips press ruggedly into yours, inflaming your entirety and melting any existence of your figurative fragility.

You ignore the echo in the back of your mind that reminds you he’s your temporary boyfriend.

The Talk will inevitably occur, but your future self could deal with it. Presently, you’re too caught up, drowning in Yangyang’s embrace.

DECEMBER 24th

On Christmas Eve, Yangyang decides to bring you to an outdoor Christmas market.

Understandably, since it’s the day before Christmas, the place is absolutely packed. For the first fifteen minutes or so, it’s joyous being immersed in the Christmas spirit with the assorted little shops and their respective products. You’re holding Yangyang’s hand tightly, pointing and half-shouting over the bustle about the items that catch your eye.

Unfortunately, someone accidentally bumps against your arms and your hand is gone from his.

Swivelling your head, searching through the crowd, it occurs to you that you officially lost Yangyang.

Your feet come to a halt as your hand attempts to dig into your jacket pocket to pluck your phone out, but the moving crowd forces you to constantly follow the stream.

You yell for him, but words can’t materialize. Your windpipe tightens. Your breath is becoming shallower and shallower. Blood pulses in your ears alarmingly, blocking out the clamour from around you. Your mind’s running everywhere without control.

Where is your boyfriend?

No, scratch that, he’s not your actual boyfriend—where is your best friend?

Did he leave you? He would never.

Right?

But what happens when all of this is over? Will you still have your best friend?

You’ve avoided The Talk long enough, but you didn’t expect to catch feelings for him. Not like this.

Maybe you’re just destined to be alone.

Is this how it feels to actually lose him?

Tears fight your vision. You hear a faint call of your name, but you can’t urge yourself to turn around, sinking only further into the sea of anonymity. You’re just a face in a crowd, all alone, with no one who cares—

Yangyang grasps you by the arm and maneuvers you aside to a less busy area behind one of the vendor stands.

“Oh, God, thought I lost you there—”

You cut him off, hugging him with all your might and stuff your face in his chest cushioned by the downy layers of his winter jacket. Yangyang immediately drapes his arms securely around you, reading your uneasiness.

“Hey, I got you. I got you,” he soothes, running a hand through your hair. “God, not my best idea. Sorry for bringing you here.”

You shake your head, wordlessly informing him that it’s okay. You’re just glad to be with him again.

“Wanna go home?”

You nod solemnly, and Yangyang zips you out of there in minutes with his arm tucked by your side, ensuring he doesn’t lose you in the crowd again.

Fortunately, the jitters mostly disappear when you arrive at your place in the late afternoon. You’re in the middle of rummaging through your keys to unlock your door.

“Sorry I didn’t have anything else planned for today,” he mumbles, leaning with folded arms against the wall.

“Did you...” You insert the correct key and turn the lock, clicking the door open. Your gaze lifts to match his. “Did you wanna maybe have dinner with me tonight? I was thinking of ordering pizza in.”

The grin that reaches his eyes is a sufficient answer for you.

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He hangs his arm around your shoulder and plants a kiss atop your head.

After chomping down pizza and playing a few rounds of Super Smash Bros. on Yangyang’s Switch, you peer over to him on your living room couch while he’s figuring out which character he should play next.

The little mental voice in the back of your mind prods you, reminding that you should really, really have The Talk soon. The Talk that you swept under the rug at the start by saying you’d play everything by ear.

Four dates later, and the thought of this ending scares the living daylights out of you. This not only including the interim relationship, but the dire possibility of the friendship itself too. Is it possible to go back to how you were, flipping it off like a light switch?

But the internal voice is smothered as you’re drawn to his pouting lips in thought. His pouting, oh-so kissable lips. Following the ice skating kiss yesterday, you only shared a good-bye kiss when he dropped you off. Since then, you’ve been itching to have his lips on yours again.

Yangyang eventually detects your lack of focus and finds you gawking at his mouth. Your gaze dashes to his eyes, blinking innocently, but then his eyes flicker to your mouth.

The tension in the room snaps. You two carefully throw the Switch controllers off to one side and attach yourselves together. Unlike the crashing of your bodies at the ice rink, this one is purposeful. Deliberated, as his forehead presses into yours and his tender caress carries your cheek. Your body plummets backwards until Yangyang pins you completely into the couch.

Initially, the lip-locking is gentle and mild. Your fingers lay in the vicinity of his angular visage and sturdy upper frame, in contrast to his hand curling around your waist in a light squeeze.

Soon, hands traverse to other regions—his back, your thigh, his stomach, your ass. Each touch seeking, craving, whining. Tongues slinking and dancing with appetite. Your bodies buzz for more.

Open-mouthed kisses transition from the damp lips to each other’s necks. The touches dig deeper, thriving with hunger. Your back bows, body curving into his. Grinding ensues and his robust desire is blatant against your own pulsing passion.

“You don’t happen to have any condoms on you, do you?” you groan upwards to the ceiling.

He retracts from your neck to swing his head side to side, grumbling a “Sorry, we can stop...” yet you interrupt his apology by cupping his covered length. The guttural groan he exhales into your lips makes you shiver with pleasure.

“Doesn’t mean we still can’t have fun with our hands...” you say slyly.

“Fuck yeah,” he rasps, smirking, before diving in again to taste your mouth.

Clothes are stripped with the assistance of each other, leaving you with only your bra on while Yangyang opts to be completely bare. He tops your body in the same position once more.

On the couch arm rest, your head is perched with his hand clutching the space next to it for leverage. Both figures are too scatter-brained to delve into the exquisite nudity of one another, hands flying desperately to your respective arousals.

Your pretty fingers wrap around his possession almost exactly when he dips two digits into your warmth. In unison, two sharp, quiet gasps pierce the room.

“Shit, you’re so wet,” he hisses observantly. You’re so overwhelmed by the bliss that you can’t assemble any sort of response.

Your mouth’s parted to one side, chest soaring with each plunge. Through his clouded vision, he ambles over your curves and lines and yearns to see your breasts, but he respects your choice of keeping it on and opts to ambush the expanse with kisses. Your chest is launched further into his mouth and Yangyang assumes you’re enjoying this.

Fearing friction burn, you drop him from your grip momentarily, swiping a few licks over your palm. When your hand pumps him again, now drenched with saliva, grunts reverberate against your skin.

“Yangyang?” you whimper, causing his face to pull away from the temple of your body.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m-I’m close.” And he can attest to it; the contractions around him are increasing, harshly squeezing his fingers.

“Same,” he pants.

Your best friend flicks his wrist with ignition, securing your waves of elation. You attempt to do the same, but it’s difficult when he’s also sloppily thrusting himself into your fist, so you simply clench your grasp harder. His features pinch and choppy moans dribble as he yields to his climax, gushing himself over your stomach.

Still sucking in lungfuls of air, Yangyang kisses you tenderly before removing himself to clean up the mess he made.

Following the clean-up, while putting on your clothes, Yangyang expresses how he should get going since it’s getting late.

“Did you wanna stay the night?” you pipe up.

His mind races, debating on whether to leave or not, anxious to blur the lines of your relationship even further.

Sure, he’s your temporary boyfriend, thus staying over at your place shouldn’t mean anything. But this agreement is ending next week, and he’s questioning if you two can stay just friends after this, knowing that he’s going to want more. Yangyang has had a taste of the what if, and it’s now irrevocable.

He wants you all for himself. Selfishly, but deeply.

For the sake of keeping this a great thing for you, he shoves his thoughts aside. This is all about you and for your benefit, anyhow.

“Uh, sure, I can take the couch like I always—”

“Yangyang, you just put your fingers inside of me,” you snicker, snagging him by the hand to your bedroom. “C’mon.”

The rest of the night is relatively chaste with some kisses and touches here and there. Eventually, you fall asleep facing each other with your fingers interlocked, excited for the big day tomorrow.

DECEMBER 25th

Normally on Christmas, Yangyang and you spend it with your respective families, but coincidentally, both of your families, your parents being retired and all, ended up vacationing this year, leaving the two of you to spend it with each other.

After getting up around noon, Yangyang heads to his place to grab his gift. He takes longer than you expected because, as it turns out, he also went home to grab baking goods he bought beforehand since he wants to make butter cookies with you today.

The cookies end up fine, but the mess is another story. Besides the chaos on the counter, your faces and aprons are splotched with flour (you swear he started it, but he disagrees and stands his ground that you’re the perpetrator). With a damp cloth, Yangyang aids you to clean, but not forgetting to wipe your face and giving you pecks over your cheeks and nose.

The baking and aftermath occupies most of the afternoon, so dinner comes in the form of fancy, romantic instant ramen for two. Afterwards, you two sit in your living room and start to exchange gifts.

Yangyang hands his over to you first. From the size of the gift and the crumpled, oddly-shaped wrapping, you already can guess it’s a stuffed plushie of a cute animal to add to your never ending collection. You hug it tightly with a large smile.

“It’s so cute, thank you!” you squeal, but you change your expression in an instant to a serious pout. “But you can’t steal this one like you did with my Ice Bear plushie.”

“Hey, I didn’t steal Ice Bear, I just forgot to give him back.” You roll your eyes sarcastically and he laughs. “I’ll bring him over tomorrow, if it makes you feel better.”

Then, when it’s your turn, you head into your bedroom and come out with a large, white shopping bag. His eyebrows raise, unsure of what could warrant a gift this size.

“For being my holiday boyfriend,” you grin, placing the bag in front of his feet.

Despite the hugest smile on your face, his heart sinks at the label for a second, but he blinks and wills himself to look inside the bag.

His eyes shoot open, so much that you’re scared you might have to stuff them back into his sockets.

Yangyang slips the box out of the bag with precision and stares at it speechlessly.

It’s the new Playstation.

He shifts his eyes toward you. You’re swaying on the couch, pleased by his reaction.

“Your parents paid for most of it, so I can’t take all the credit.” Sticking a finger in the air, you add, “You just gotta promise to share custody with me though—”

A hand behind your head yanks you into a deep kiss. He’s not the only one left speechless on the couch. He places the top of his head against yours.

“You’re crazy, but I love—” He quickly catches himself from saying something he might regret. “—I love it so much, thank you. Now I feel bad for getting you only the stuffed animal...”

You shake your head softly, brushing your thumb against his cheekbone.

“Thank you for everything.” Your eyes twinkle. “I couldn’t have asked to spend the holidays with anyone else.”

Carefully, like a newborn baby, he safely situates the boxed Playstation to one side and nabs your lips with his again. The scene feels like repeat of last night as your bodies wrestle passionately on the couch.

“Not to be presumptuous,” he mutters between the kisses upon your neck. Your eyelids flutter at the sensation. “But I also grabbed condoms from my place when I stopped by.”

His words sends the two of you leaping towards your bedroom. Under the dim lighting, you fall into the bed as Yangyang pares your layers off, one by one. With each peel, his lips roam the revealing bare skin. You swear he has kissed you from your literal head to toe when you’re fully nude in front of him.

Your companion drags his shirt over his head, throws it off to your floor, and immediately targets in onto your nub with his mouth, finally satiating his craving from last night.

Fingers thread into his hair and over his flexed back. His tongue swirls and his teeth lightly tug on your perkiness, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. And he still isn’t even inside you yet.

After leaving love upon your other bosom, Yangyang fumbles with the condom, forgetting which way it should go on. Giggling, you perch yourself onto your elbows and assist him. Rolling it over his possession, you recline yourself back and spread your legs for him.

Pensively, he sticks his tongue out as he adjusts himself between your sex, easing himself into you, and upon the full impact, you meet his gaze head-on. His stare makes you feel vulnerable and exposed beyond the physical plane.

But, unlike the others you have been with, you trust him with everything, like you always have, and be free with him. Losing your inhibitions and submitting to your whims, you entangle and become one with Yangyang.

Behind his hazy vision, Yangyang’s simply thinking how beautiful you are, how he can’t imagine anyone else under his touch but you, how he is willing to give up anything to make you smile.

Well, in this case, he’s willing to give up anything to make you pleased.

However, it doesn’t seem like he needs to do much because you’re howling his name and clinging onto his skin and the sheets in a frenzy, like you’re about to die of exhaustion.

You perish a few times under him before he finally reaches his little death himself, convulsing into the sheath.

When air’s replenished into your bodies, you rest on his chest under your blanket. Glancing up at him, you move some of his tousled hair off his sleek forehead.

“Merry Christmas, Yangyang,” you whisper, snuggling him with a satisfied smile.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he whispers back, giving you one last peck before you both drift into a deep slumber together.

DECEMBER 26th

Last night took so much out of the both of you, you don’t get out of bed until about the middle of the afternoon. Yangyang doesn’t have anything planned for today since it’s Boxing Day, since the crowds might be crazy wherever you go, so it’s officially a chill, rest day for you both.

When you step out of the shower in fresh clothes, from behind the couch, you watch Yangyang gaming on his Switch.

The little voice in your head looms, prompting that now is the time to have The Talk, and speaks up on your behalf.

“Do we have to end things next week?” you croak.

You see Yangyang’s shoulders stiffen, then he pauses the game and turns around to face you. His gaze follows you as you step closer to the couch, opting to stand.

“Uhm.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he shrugs. “It’s up to you, it’s your—”

“Yangyang, that’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking what you think, how do you feel?”

His lips press together and he’s staring at the floor. You can tell the gears are moving, but you can’t read his expression clearly.

“I’m down for whatever you want to do,” he says slowly, eyes still averting yours.

That’s a I’m-your-best-friend answer, you deduce. Not a I-want-to-be-your-actual-boyfriend answer.

He adds, stuttering, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing this a little longer if that’s what you want—”

Your face scrunches in annoyance. “Did you just sign up to be my short-term boyfriend so you can fill my empty heart?”

His eyebrows crease with confusion. “I mean, I never want to see you unhappy.”

“So it’s pity dating then?” you lash, raising your voice.

“No, I—” Yangyang bites down on his tongue, almost letting the one word slip out again. He blows out a lengthy sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “I care about you, so much. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

You’re defining his words as an affirmation of friendship and as an underlying rejection of your love.

You need to know for certain.

“Do you love me, Yangyang?” you blurt. “As more than a friend?”

This is it, Yangyang thinks. This is your chance to let her know how you feel.

But the distress written on your face makes him wonder if he should even go through with it, and it’s intensifying with every passing moment that he’s not speaking.

If only he knew your distress was deepening because you took his hesitance as absolute rejection.

Your heart is breaking because of him, and he technically wasn’t even yours to begin with.

You smack your lips together and gulp a few times, trying to make the huge knot in your throat disappear.

“You know what, maybe let’s just forget this arrangement and leave it all behind and forget about the sex and—”

“You wanna stop this?” he utters quietly.

The word “this” hangs heavy in the air. This, carrying the weight of not only being the temporary agreement, but also your friendship.

“Yeah,” you whisper, tears beginning to blur your eyes. “I think I do.”

DECEMBER 28th

Two days have passed since you last saw Yangyang.

That day before he left, Yangyang, feeling guilty for how events unfolded, wanted to give back the Playstation, but you insisted for him to keep it. In spite of everything, it was a Christmas gift to him from you and his parents.

But both of you weren’t sure if the shared custody promise was going to be held up.

In hopes that things would eventually get better and heal itself, Yangyang thought it’d be best to leave you alone for a while, like how he usually did.

And maybe he was right to do so, but this time is different.

Because he’s on the other end of the stick now; he’s the one who broke your heart.

Under regular circumstances, whenever you needed space, he was always ready to be there by your side.

But Yangyang’s uncertain if you’re going to let him comfort you this time.

And you’re uncertain if you even want him to.

DECEMBER 30th

Today, Yangyang finally makes the move to get in touch with you, texting you to call him, but you don’t, so he leaves a voicemail later in the evening.

“There’s a New Year’s party I’m going to tomorrow,” he starts off, then spews the specific details.

There’s a pause and you hear shuffling in the background. You assume he’s pacing around.

“I know you ended our agreement, but I wouldn’t mind fulfilling my end since New Year’s is the last day tomorrow. I’d be really glad if you came to the party with me, whether it be as my friend or my girlfriend.”

Another pause.

On the other end, Yangyang rubs his palm over his face, considering whether or not he should say it. If you picked up the phone call, he was going to do it anyway, but this just felt improper. He wants to say it when he knows you’re listening in real-time, so he ends off the message with:

“I miss you. So much.”

DECEMBER 31st

It’s 8:40PM. Before Yangyang buses out to the party, he’s back at your front door for one more shot. His fist taps at your door, cognizant that you wouldn’t be elsewhere since your other friends are out of town for the holidays. Despite that, you don’t come to the door. Nevertheless, he speaks to you through the wooden barrier.

“Hey, I know you want to be left alone, but I just wanted to see if you changed your mind about the party.”

Still no answer. He lets out a sigh and prays the following will incite a reaction from you.

“About the question that you asked me that night...”

He closes his eyes and allows his mouth to carry him.

“I do. I do love you. As both my best friend and more. I’m sorry if I hurt you that night by not saying anything, but I love you so much and I think we should give us a shot.”

Still no answer. Yangyang continues.

“Look, I know it’s scary and crazy to date your best friend. I’m scared too, but you know what? I’m okay with being scared. I’ve watched you gone through those assholes over the last few years and maybe you’re scared I’ll end up like one of them, but unlike them, I don’t think you’re horrible or needy or emotional—you’re beautiful, intelligent, and strong for putting up with all those fuckers.”

He leans his forehead gently against the door.

“And even if we ever do break up, and this is a big if because I’ll always try my hardest with you to make it work, I’ll still be your friend. I promise. You won’t lose me ‘cause I need you in my life. I gotta keep my end up for the custody of the Playstation, right?”

A smile breaks over his face from his joke, but still. Radio silence.

“Can you at least say something?” he begs.

After a few minutes, realizing he needs to probably give you more time to be left alone, he departs and heads to the party.

Originally, you actually were planning on attending the party to see Yangyang to make-up with him.

Unfortunately, out of all the days you had to take a late afternoon nap, it had to be today.

And you overslept. Big time.

At 10:55PM, you scramble awake, realizing you’re absolutely late to the event. Since the party’s downtown, you know calling an Uber or Lyft there would be fast, but tonight’s the worst night for any share riding service and there aren’t any available drivers. Thus, you have to manage with busing there.

It’s 11:40PM when you finally reach downtown, but the bus can’t take you all the way to the core centre where the party is; hordes of people are out on the streets and traffic is dreadful. God, you’re going to be cutting it close to midnight, but you make a run for it.

You’re grateful the party is on the second floor of a small building because you slide in right through the entrance at 11:58PM. You rush to call Yangyang’s phone, hoping he’ll pick up as you try to find him in the scattered groups of people.

You begin to holler for him in hopes he can hear you, but the countdown is happening, drowning out your voice. Thirty seconds left until the clock strikes for the new year.

When his number finally goes to voicemail, you redial his number. Suddenly, a hand grasps you by the wrist.

Yangyang looks at you, dumbfounded.

“When did you get here?”

The harmonious chanting around you floods your surroundings.

“Ten, nine, eight...”

Getting closer to him, you practically scream into Yangyang’s face, trusting he’ll hear what you’re about to say.

“I know Christmas is over, but I want to change my wish.”

“Seven, six, five...”

“I know you might not feel the same and I know things might not work out.”

“Four, three, two...”

”But I wish to date you past New Year’s until whenever, however long we last.”

“One...”

“I love you, Yangyang—”

The one you love snatches you by the waist and your cheek, stealing your lips at the last millisecond before midnight.

“Happy New Year!”

A wave of noisemakers, clappers, and hollering erupt around the room. After it dies down a bit, Yangyang shocks you with a scolding.

“Why didn’t you say anything when I came over?!”

Confusion rushes over you. You realize he probably came by when you were sleeping.

“You came over?!”

“Yeah, I confessed my love for you.”

“Wait,” you blink blankly, unsure if you heard him correctly. “Your love?”

“Yeah,” he nods, giving you his cheesy, adorable smile. “I love you.”

“As more than a friend?” you clarify.

“Babe,” Yangyang’s thumb caresses your cheek. “I don’t think I could ever go back to wanting less with you.”

Your lips tremble with relief as your gaze melts in his.

“And, anyway, who else am I going to share the Playstation with?”

“Well, I mean, you do have Hendery, Xiaojun, Winwin...” you start to count his infinite list of friends on your fingers.

“Yeah, but I need you so I can constantly beat your cute little butt at games.”

“You do not constantly beat my cute little butt at games, I’ll have you know that I beat you at—”

Yangyang shuts you up with another kiss, the one of many for the rest of the night.

JANUARY 2nd

It’s your second morning at Yangyang’s place. You’ve only done it a few times now, but you realize that waking up in his arms is one of the greatest feelings in the world, second only to his kisses.

In his bed, spooning you from behind, he grumbles into the nape of your neck, “Morning, girlfriend.”

Half-awake, you mumble back, “Morning, boyfriend,” and sink deeper into the curve of his body.

Content, you finally broke your string of cursed holiday break-ups for good.

And all it took was to be with the one who was in front of you all this time.

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loversarcanas · 3 years ago

Text

im in my sashanne brainrot hours for real <3 inspired by a convo with someone on twitter about flower crowns and emotional pain

You don't deserve this, you think.

The grass beneath you is soft, almost pillowy even. the tips tickle the palm of your hand when you lay it flat to ground, digging your anxiously-chewed nails into the soil beneath. An attempt to steady its shaking.

The sun in Wartwood is especially bright today, and would otherwise be blinding were it not merely peeking through the thick, bushy tops of the trees surrounding you and her.

And her. She's the one thing, the one person, who steals all your attention. Her curly locks of brunette hair glow in those peeks of sun from above, painting them golden. Her warm brown skin shimmers in the light, looking soft enough to touch and never let go of (but you wouldn't dare reach for something so sweet). Her deep umber eyes completely entrancing, with flecks of gold swimming in them. They're trained on you, nearly unblinking in her state of focus as she threads another blossom through your own blonde locks.

You don't deserve this.

You don't deserve her.

By what right should you be treated with this much kindness? With this much warmth and gentleness and love? After being quite possibly the worst human being alive, after lying to her and manipulating her and hurting her, by what right do you deserve to be close enough to touch her as she so delicately braids flowers into a crown upon your head?

You are not a queen, nor a king, nor any higher power worth a crown. Perhaps at one time you thought you were, before you and your two best friends were thrown into this strange new world. But now? You should be lucky to even wear the armour on your chest. You dig your nails further into the earth until your dirtied knuckles cramp.

She notices, and her gentle fingers pull away from your head. You already mourn the loss of her touch, and berate yourself for mourning what you shouldn't even have to begin with.

"Sasha, are you okay? You seem really tense."

The determination in her eyes washes away like a wave on a beach, leaving worry in its stead. Those eyes stare directly into yours and you feel like she's piercing through your soul, like she's found the crack in your shield and is breaking through. It's always been like that with her though - She's always been your weakness.

You can't lie to her, especially not after everything. You wish you could, that you could tell her everything is fine and that she never has to worry her beautiful self on you ever. But she's too smart for that - cares too much for that. So those words you wish you could keep to yourself spill out like a waterfall, unfiltered and vulnerable and honest.

"I don't deserve this Anne. I don't deserve you, not after everything I've done to you."

As the words fall from your mouth you can't bear to look at her. You tear your eyes away from her face to look anywhere else - the grass clumped in your twitching hand, the trees surrounding you as unmoving as marble statues, anywhere to avoid seeing the emotion in her eyes. Cowardly.

"I mean, look at you. You're so amazing, you've got the biggest heart I know. You got everyone in this town to love you, to the point that they would risk their whole lives for you. You beat the crap out of King Andrias with those... weird, glowy blue powers..." You stop for a moment when you feel your eyes get bleary. The telltale sign that your wall is crumbling all while she's a captive audience. Selfish.

"... You tried to save my life. I was the biggest jerk to you, I turned on you, and you still almost died just to save me. I don't know how anyone could do that."

Your face feels tense and tears sting your eyes just as much as they dampen your face. You brace yourself for the inevitable - Anne has to realize by now that she's worth more than this. That she deserves better than a broken, so-called best friend baring her ugly heart to her in the middle of the woods. Hideous.

But as you brace for those words, brace for the harsh reality that she's leaving you (and why wouldn't she leave?), there's a familiar warmth on your left cheek. Your face tingles under the sensation of her hand on your face, as she rubs the spot beneath your eye with her thumb. You jolt up and stare at her, trying to ignore how rapidly your heart starts beating.

She's looking at you, tears pricking the corners of those big umber eyes, looking like she's finding the right words to say. There's a spark of intensity in the way she looks at you that almost makes your stomach drop, yet there isn't a hint of anger in them.

After several quickened heartbeats, she speaks.

"Sasha... You're right. You were a huge jerk, at Toad Tower, in Newtopia, back home..."

You feel yourself shrink with each word. This has to be it, you think. She finally understands how pathetic you are.

"... But. I can't hate you. I can't leave you. "

You freeze. Your body somehow simultaneously tenses and relaxes, but you hang on to her every word.

"I told you, back at the third temple. You weren't just a jerk, you were also inspiring. You know what you want and you go for it. And coming back here, seeing how you protected everyone in Wartwood from the frobot army when I was stuck on Earth... You've actually changed, Sash."

Before you register anything else, she lunges forward, her chest colliding with your own in the tightest hug you've probably ever experienced. It's getting hard to ignore the heat finding its way on your face when she buries her own in the crook of your neck. Her hair smells like sweet coconut and you feel you may pass out if you pay attention too closely.

A few choked sobs come from her place on your neck and your first instinct is to squeeze her, finally releasing the clump of grass and soil and freeing your hand to press against her back, all while trying (and failing) to hold back tears of your own.

"I was so scared of losing you then. I don't want to lose you now. Please don't say that you don't deserve me, because I don't know what I would do without you in my life."

Crack.

All at once, your walls collapse. The dam breaks. You clutch her for dear life and sob apologies into her back and you cry with her until your lungs are sore and until she's sufficiently wet your neck with her tears.

You don't know how long you stay like this for, either for too long or not long enough. She pulls away from you only slightly, still held within your grasp, and grabs your face with both hands. One rubs a thumb over your scar and the other over your beauty mark and the tender movements make you want to cry all over again. She brings her face close and plants her lips right below your eye and you feel the rest of the world slip away beneath you.

You are the broken demon banished from heaven and she is the angel who becomes your salvation. You hate that you feel like this because she's so much more than your saviour or support and that, more than anything, you should be that to her, to be her hero and her shoulder to cry on and her everything and anything all at once.

"I love you, Anne."

Those words escape your tongue before you have any chance of locking them away, and in this moment you, for once, allow yourself not to care. Allow yourself the privilege of honesty and vulnerability for her sake.

"I want to be someone that deserves you."

She looks at you with pleading eyes and the faintest smile and nods, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"I love you Sasha, and I believe you."

She brings her face in closer and you still can't hold your words in, not when she's still practically in your lap and looking at you like that.

"Can I kiss you?"

Only a beat, she smiles and slowly nods before bringing her face closer to yours. You reach your hand up to caress her face and kiss her and your lips tingle like sparks are dancing across them. You can smell the cherry lip balm and feel how soft it is against you when she's kissing you back. It's delicate, as if she's the most fragile and breakable thing alive, as if she's fine china and you're a bull. But bulls can be soft and bulls can love and you want to love her like the moon loves the sun.

You don't deserve this, you think. But one day, you will.

#if frogtwt sees this: sashanne kissing <3 #amphibia #sashanne #anne boonchuy #sasha waybright #this is rlly experimental writing for me but I THINK i did a p good job #anyways its 6am as i finish this so im going to need gnight #scribblings

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inmyownlaine · 4 years ago

Note

Hi,love your writing and was wondering if I could request a John Murphy fluff/angst based on season 2or3 where the reader and him get in an argument about him ‘being with Emori’ but he likes the reader?

John Murphy x Reader: Promises

*Absolutely! Thank you for the suggestion. Also, let's just act like I haven't been MIA for literal months :)

GIF//

Warnings: None to my knowledge!

Word Count: 2078

────────────────────────────────────────────

“Don’t go,” you begged, grabbing Murphy’s hand as it swung carelessly behind him. When your fingers touched his skin, Murphy stopped immediately. He inhaled heavily through his nose, trying to control the sadness and desire that you sent rippling through his body.

“Murphy, please,” you whimpered.

Murphy’s shoulder dropped as he let the single strap of his backpack slide down his arm. Your eyes lit up, hoping that was a positive sign. Hoping that you were enough to make him stay.

“I can’t.”

“You can,” you said assertively. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” he replied, apologetic eyes looking at you between half-closed eyelids. He was right. You didn’t understand. He had nothing to apologize for. He didn’t have to prove himself to you. Or ask for your forgiveness. None of the things that his blue eyes seemed to convey.

“You don’t need redemption.”

“But if I go now, maybe when I come back-”

“What?” you interrupted. “Everything will suddenly be different?”

“Is it so wrong to want that?” he questioned softly, a shaky sigh leaving his body. You tightened your grip, white knuckles against red calloused ones. Just another casualty of his bad temper.

“Of course not. But you’re not going to fix anything by leaving. You need to stay. Stay and show them who you can be. Don’t leave and prove them right.”

Murphy dropped his head, fixated on your two hands intertwined. There was a lot more going on than the surface discussion. You danced around being in love by using double meanings and knowing glances. This wasn’t about him leaving to find himself. It was about him leaving you.

Glassy eyes meet together in a flurry of uncertainty and passion. The pit of your stomach churned as Murphy leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. They barely touched before he pulled away, eyes closed. It was a kiss that you never wanted to experience, especially being your first.

You knew he was leaving.

“Don’t cry,” he told you, hearing a sniffle escape. His eyes still rested, he quietly spoke, “I will be back. I promise. I have something to come back to.”

“Murphy, I-”

“I promise.” He now faced the reality of the situation, confronting his fears head on as he stared into your bloodshot eyes. There was no way he would ever be the cause of this again. He just needed one chance to make you proud. To clear his name.

“I promise.”

────────────────────────────────────────────

The taste of dirt and sweat caused you to gag as you were manhandled into the unknown. You had no idea why you were the target of a kidnapping. If anything, you laid low and kept to yourself. Regardless, you followed the directions given to you, fearing what would become of your life if you didn’t.

“I’ve brought you some company!” the voice behind you bellowed. You jumped at the sudden noise, interested in the way he practically sang the announcement.

“Who?” another voice asked, seeming alert and slightly panicked. You knew this voice anywhere and it quickly became clear why you were here. Even still, you obeyed the commands given. If you spoke a word, made any noise, it would be the end of your life.

“Worried, are we?” The man started to laugh heartily as you continued to walk. Every thundering step matched the beating of your heart. What would happen when you finally stopped?

There was no response, so the man began to speak. “Someone who wouldn’t shut up about you. Scared for you. Desperate to see you.”

As if being captured weren’t enough, this was just plain humiliating. He didn’t have to recount all the times you pined after Murphy while he was gone. You lost track of the months it had been since you last saw him. This was not how you wanted to reunite.

“Who. Is. It?” Murphy asked yet again. It was dark and menacing. A resemblance of a person that he used to be. You knew that would always be a part of him. Especially when it involved people that he cared about.

“A girlfriend?” the man guessed. You cringed hearing that word, tormenting and taunting you of what never was. But how Murphy replied was even more heartbreaking.

“Emori?” The man began to cackle once more as Murphy cursed and threatened his life. It was terrible to hear the intensity of his love. How much he cared for someone else while you turned others down, waiting for him.

The man gave you one last shove, causing you to fall to your knees. Through minute gaps in the woven sack over your head, you finally caught an amber hue of light. You groaned in pain, trying your best to stay upright with your hands tied behind your back.

There was a brief moment of silence before another outburst broke out. This time, you heard the scuffling of feet against the floor. Fabric harshly rubbed against a scratchy surface. It sounded like an attempt to escape.

“Let her go!” Murphy yelled.

“Why would I do that? I have everything I need, now. Except for the information.”

“Just let her go and I’ll tell you, okay? I’ll tell you everything,” Murphy frantically said.

“But I’m having so much fun. Maybe just one...little…” A cold blade touched your neck, causing a shriek to escape your throat. He put an ounce of pressure against your rapidly thumping artery.

“I swear to God if you hurt her I will kill you!” Murphy’s voice was full of anguish as it broke here and there. It was a frequency in which you had never heard from him. It was harrowing to witness.

The knife was removed from your neck. In a series of exchanges, Murphy gave him the answer to every single question he asked. When the interrogation was over, you were picked up and moved to a new area. Here, you were tied once more around my stomach.

Then, without warning, the bag was removed from your head. You could barely take in my surroundings before Murphy called your name. Tears fell from your eyes as you saw, for the first time in months, John Murphy. Though you had to admit, he looked worse for wear.

“Murphy,” you cried back, wanting more than anything to be able to touch him. To hug him. To take in his scent. You had been without this man for way too long.

“That’s sweet,” the man, who you could now identify as Titus, interrupted. “But I’ve got what I wanted. For now.” And with that, he turned on his heel and exited the room, leaving you and Murphy alone.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Murphy asked immediately.

“I’m fine,” you replied. “But you don’t look good at all.”

“Yeah, well, being tortured does that to a person.”

“He tortured you?” you questioned, breath leaving your body. Picturing someone hurting Murphy made you sick.

“A few times,” he shrugged.

You wanted to be happy. You wanted to ask him about his trip. You wanted to know if he discovered himself. If he found who he truly was. But you couldn’t get past the fact that he said another girl’s name.

You never claimed to be anything more than friends, but you thought it went without saying. A person doesn’t just kiss someone before they leave. Or promise that they would come back to you.

“I hate that I have to see you like this,” Murphy finally said, breaking the silence. “I always imagined coming back to camp with Jaha’s group. We just saved the human race, or something like that. But it didn’t matter, because I was looking for you.”

“Not Emori?” you mumbled, mustering up the courage to be so bold. Murphy’s eyes grew wide as he avoided your haunting gaze.

“Look, it wasn’t supposed to- she just- we were,” he tried to explain, slumping over in the process.

“I waited for you. Every day,” you admitted. “The last thing I did before I went to bed was look out the gate for you. Every morning I woke up with the hope that it would be the day you came back to me.”

You started to sob, recounting the loneliness that you felt. And the fear of not knowing Murphy’s fate. Were you holding out for someone who was dead? Was it hopeless to wish that he would keep his promise?

“I turned people down. I kept faith in you. I told everyone how proud I was. And then to know that you weren’t keeping me with you at all. I wasn’t even a passing thought.”

“It’s not like that,” Murphy said.

“But it is. She’s your girlfriend.”

“I don’t- love her,” he said softly, swallowing hard enough to make his entire throat bob up and down.

“Then what?” You were at the tipping point with Murphy. Exasperated with his short answers and frustrated with the secrets he was holding. If he wouldn’t be honest with you now, there was no way you would ever be with him in the future.

“I’ve been through a lot. More than I expected.” He stared into the distance, seemingly void of emotion. It was like he was lost, trying hard to remember something that he pushed away. “I was trapped. By myself. 86 days. You know how I spent that time?”

You shook your head in response. He was still burning holes in the wall, but somehow knew that you replied. He smirked slightly before saying, “I thought about you. And how good it would feel to see you once I was out. Granted, I went absolutely crazy in there, but you kept me as sane as I could be.”

You couldn’t help but to chuckle at this. “I can’t imagine you any more psychotic than you are now.”

“Is that so?” he bantered, catching you out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re a freak,” you teased.

“Why? Because I’ve killed a few people?”

“Yeah, that probably contributes.” The two of you shared a smile, falling back into old patterns. You missed having a person that you could shamelessly be yourself around. The quick wit and sly comments were always absorbed and thrown back by Murphy. No one else stood a chance against you.

“When he said he had someone,” Murphy carried on, “you’re the first person I thought of. But it seemed impossible until I saw you. I don’t know what came over me. I- I was blind with rage. I tried to fight my way out. Because if he hurt you-”

Murphy couldn’t bear to finish the sentence. You didn’t need him to. You knew what was left to say. You heard the distinct difference, the silence that fell, when he realized you were the captured person and not Emori.

“I know that doesn’t make any of this right, but I just wanted that feeling of safety that you gave me. And Emori was there. I misplaced it. And I’m sorry,” Murphy apologized.

“What about Emori, then?” you pressed.

“She’s a good person, and she will understand. I just couldn’t live with myself if I left you again.”

“You mean that?” Murphy simply nodded, outstretching his fingers in your direction. Even though you couldn’t hold hands, the sentiment remained as you reflected his actions. You were two people trying to make your own light in the darkest of situations.

“I love you,” you managed to choke out, taking in the dried blood on his hairline and the bruises on his skin. His pant leg was ripped at the cuff and his hands were caked in dirt. You needed him to know that no matter what happened, now and forever, that he could carry this with him. Even after death, if fate so decided.

“I love you, too,” he said, without hesitation or a second thought. It was something he wished he had told you the night he decided to leave. The only thing he regretted once he left the compound.

But he had the chance to fix all of that. And in that moment, he swore that once you escaped, he would always be there to protect you. He would always console you and your wondering thoughts. He would love you the way that he should have a long time ago.

He promised he would always find a way to come back to you.

He promised he would never leave.

He promised.

**Hey, it's Lainey. Slightly embarrassing but I am back from the grave! I hope you all enjoy this and still love Murphy as much as I do <3

#john murphy #john murphy fanfic #john murphy imagine #john murphy x reader #the100 #The 100 #the100fanfic #the100fanfiction #the100fic #johnmurphyfic #love #writing #john murphy fanfiction #johnmurphyimagine

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yikesharringrove · 3 years ago

Text

Agitation (or disturbance of the mind)

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

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

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

Art for this story to be linked soon by @thedogsled

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

Enjoy!

Steve Harrington is a liar.

He always has been.

Nearly everything about him is a perfectly crafted facade.

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

Steve is a liar.

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

It was always about protection.

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

Then it was about protecting himself from his powers.

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

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

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

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

The Harringtons.

A normal new family from Eastern Oklahoma.

That’s what they told everyone.

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

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

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

So Steve lied.

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

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

“We should do something after this.”

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

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

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

She glared at him.

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

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

Was it that obvious how lonely he is?

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

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

With college-less, nowhere bound Steve.

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

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

And it was.

Almost.

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

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

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

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

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

Robin means well. He knows she does.

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

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

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

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

Not that Steve could ever put it behind him.

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

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

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

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

Especially if he did it right.

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

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

Locate her feeling. Let him consume him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which was good for Steve.

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

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

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

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

And there wasn’t silence.

Creaks.

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

Footsteps.

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

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

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

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

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

First sign of a person, and Steve would swing.

No questions asked.

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

He closed his eyes, and swung.

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

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

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

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

His top lip was covered in blood.

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

The footsteps that were caused by no one.

It’s official.

Steve’s lost it.

He’s fucking crazy.

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

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

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

Billy hates Harrington’s house.

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

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

It keeps him on edge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Billy let himself be the muscle.

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

Everyone had a role.

And that was perfectly okay.

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

They’d all lost enough people to understand that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Save the rest.

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

And there was nothing.

Nothing in the hallway. He was all alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve’s going fucking crazy.

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

He hadn’t slept at all last night.

Something just felt. Off.

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

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

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

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

And he couldn’t push them out.

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

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

He’s lost the metaphor.

Doesn’t matter.

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

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

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

He was going to be late for work.

He didn’t really give a fuck.

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

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

His brain was empty.

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

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

“You look like shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

She sighed and rolled her eyes.

Bingo.

She wasn’t actually mad at him.

“You okay?”

“Jus’, some weirdness. Bad vibes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was easy to pass the shift like that.

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

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

Lonely.

He almost felt lonely.

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

He’s officially crazy.

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

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

Or something to that effect.

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

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

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

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

“Stupid. Fucking. Vines .”

Hopper muttered to himself a lot.

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

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

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

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

Things had been quiet lately.

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

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

Billy hadn’t listened.

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

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

They had the runs down to a system.

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

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

Billy got it.

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

They just. Make do.

Ration food and keep each other safe.

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

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

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

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

Billy would keep watch.

He always kept watch.

Things had been too good for too long.

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

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

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

Supply runs were choreographed down to the minute.

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

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

Things were too quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

It was his house.

But it wasn’t his house.

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

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

“Harrington?”

It was Billy. Hargrove.

But it wasn’t Billy.

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

“Why are you in my house?”

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

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

“This is your house?”

Steve didn’t want to explain.

“You’re dead.”

“Could be soon.”

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

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

“Where is this to you?”

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

“Somewhere safe.”

So.

That’s something.

Dreaming about Harrington.

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

Or maybe he did.

He’d said it in the dream.

Somewhere safe.

It’s what he felt in that blackness.

Safety. Warmth. Hope.

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

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

It made waking up that much shittier.

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

He needed to process.

There was something so fucking weird about that dream.

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

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

Awake Billy, had some fuckin’ questions.

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

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

All that made sense.

But everything else.

Steve said he was dead.

Was he dead?

Was this Hell?

Purgatory?

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

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

His head was spinning out of control.

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

Because, they were.

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

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

The door had long since rotted right through.

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

Andrew was always calling Janet Holloway Miss Janet.

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

He hopes not.

He likes Andrew too much for that.

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

He changed out the bandana over his mouth and nose.

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

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

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

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

“Apparently something happened on the run last night.”

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

“Who’d we lose?”

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

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

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

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

The pillow was a mess of blood the next morning.

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

His nose had bled in the night.

He never got nosebleeds.

Unless he used his power.

And that dream.

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

Wait.

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

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

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

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

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

“This is the Byers.”

“Put El on the phone.”

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

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

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

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

“Shut up. Just get in.”

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

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

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

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

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

“When the fuck did you become sarcastic ?”

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

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

Really, Steve thought she was too good for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve was tapping his foot impatiently.

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

“So did you!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you to-”

Steve didn’t wanna hear it.

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

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

It took two to finally tame his nerves any.

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck. So this is real.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nobody dared speak.

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

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

“It’s not really a sound you forget.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Respect and responsibility.

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

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

Hopper nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Helped them all feel a little bit closer to human.

“I don’t. Get it.”

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

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

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

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

“And she saw Billy. Billy Hargrove .”

Steve nodded at Dustin.

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

“She just knows .”

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

He rubbed absentmindedly at the cigar burn on his wrist.

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

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

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

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

Everyone went dead silent, staring at him.

“Steve,” Robin began, searching his face.

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

Steve was tired.

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

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

That statement hung in the air for a moment.

And then there was a roar of noise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was another silence.

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

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

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

“Okay.”

Of course it was Robin.

It was always Robin.

Steve let himself look at her.

She was pale, but she was smiling at him.

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Steve nodded once.

“Okay. Uh, great.”

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

Steve stared at Max weighing his answer carefully.

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

“Spit it out, Sailor Man.”

“ Erica .”

Erica just rolled her eyes at Lucas.

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

“Steve!”

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

There was no going back after this.

The second they knew, everything would be different.

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

Another silence.

“I don’t understand.”

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

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

Made her want him.

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

She startled slightly when he yelled at her.

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t hear this.”

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

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

Her last question was nothing more than a whisper.

And it made Steve wish he was never born.

He gaped at her like a dead fish.

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

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

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

She held up her hand, cutting him off.

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

She slammed the door closed behind her.

Another fucking silence.

Steve couldn’t look anyone in the eye.

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

“You’ve used them on all of us.”

It wasn’t a question.

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

“I just want everyone to be happy.”

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

And, when it’s put like that.

Sure.

It’s kinda fucked up.

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

All he does is try to help.

“All I do is try to help.”

More fucking silence.

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve?”

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

“Do you really think Billy’s alive?”

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

“I know he is.”

“I have an idea.”

He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

Doesn’t remember much of anything in this place.

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

It didn’t make a sound.

“I want to help.”

Billy knew Steve was there even before he spoke.

Something about the warmth he brought to the void place.

The safety.

“Don’t know if you can.”

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, Billy knows.

Mostly because he wasn’t trying to be subtle.

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

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

“I know.”

Oh.

Steve knows.

And all he had done was stare blankly at Billy.

Nice.

“I need to know where you are.”

“Why?”

“Because I can help.”

Billy just blinked at Steve.

“Do you know El?”

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

“Yeah. How do you know her?”

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

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

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

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

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

Meaning, he looked struck fucking dumb.

“I’m gonna need you to explain.”

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

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

“There’s more of you? How many?”

“Not as many as there should be.”

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

“Where are you? Where’s the camp?”

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

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

“Someone’s house. Don’t know whose.”

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

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

“Find out. We’re coming to get you.”

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

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

“You saw him.”

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

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

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

“But he’s in the Upside Down?”

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

“Wait, Hopper? He’s alive?”

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

“ Fuck .”

Yeah, Steve agrees with that sentiment.

This whole thing was like, kind of a lot.

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

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

He knows it’s Billy.

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

And it only happens when Steve is-

“Max, he’s here.”

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

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

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

A genius.

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

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

“And you can feel him.”

“Yeah.”

“Is he, okay?”

And he knows this question.

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

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

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

“Tell me.”

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

She just wanted it confirmed.

“Hopeless. Sometimes he feels hopeless.”

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

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

He didn’t want to manipulate her.

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

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

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

“Yeah. We’ll get him.”

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

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

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

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

Billy shrugged lamely when he finished explaining.

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

“No. It was just us. Both times.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I felt you. What’s wrong?”

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

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

Steve wasn’t covered in blood anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. I gathered.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll explain it when you get back.”

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

“Where are they?”

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

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

“I mean, it’s pretty freaky.”

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

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

Which he didn’t mind in the least.

It was kinda odd seeing the Byers in his house.

Jonathan looked. Exactly the same.

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

It was kinda nice.

At least one thing hasn’t changed.

Especially because Will is pretty much unrecognizable.

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

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

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

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

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

Unease filled the room.

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

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

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

It took a second.

El’s carefully maintained calm wavered for a moment.

And then it crashed down.

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

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

“Saw him?”

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

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

“My powers,” she trailed off.

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

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

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

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

“Steve is like me. From Papa.”

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

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

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

Sure, it’s a shitty explanation.

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

“So, what’s his plan, then?”

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

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

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

Steve shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Demogorgon!”

It’s like it had come out of nowhere.

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

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

They were in some form of a ready position.

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

His heart was pounding.

We’ll be out soon. We’ll be out soon.

He didn’t believe it.

How could he?

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

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

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

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

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

The air was still.

Billy’s ears were ringing.

He stared the thing down.

Its long fingers twitched.

Someone screamed.

And the thing charged.

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

It charged.

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

Plant your feet.

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

Either way, he dug the balls of his feet into the cracked ground, and waited.

Don’t stop fighting.

He swung.

The ax clocked right into the side of the thing, barely cutting into its thick leathery skin, but it slowed it down.

Well, actually.

It made it change course from attacking the group as a whole, to honing in on Billy.

Which was less than awesome.

Billy wrenched the ax out of its tough body, thick, sticky black goo connecting the ax with its entry point as he drew it away.

He swung again, nearly hitting the same place.

The thing cried out, roaring over the sound of screaming and gunshots.

Hopper had his rifle trained on the flowered head of the one Billy was furiously chopping into like a tree.

There were two more, two he hadn’t noticed in his preoccupation with the one in front of him.

He didn’t know who was who. Which gunshot belonged to which gun, which shriek belonged to which animal.

He didn’t know if the cries of pain were from the awful beasts or the people in his camp. He was hoping the former.

He swung again. There was a sickening sound of the metal blade connecting with something solid. Something like bone.

Hopper shot it, once, twice in the head.

It was whining, making a high-pitched noise as it staggered about.

One last blow to the side of the thing, and it was finished.

The monster flopped onto the ground, dark liquid oozing out of it, its body nearly split in half where Billy had hammered it with his ax. A great gaping wound that showed sticky dark entrails.

Billy turned.

His brain was working in slow motion as he charged into the battle still raging.

He didn’t know how many of the things had arrived.

All he knew was taking them out.

His arms were sore from the force he was putting into each blow with his ax. His muscles threatened to give out at any moment.

Drive them back. We’re coming.

The thought was shoved into his head. He didn’t know where it came from but he believed it.

“Help is on the way!” He shouted to no one and everyone.

He had taken down two more demogorgons with the help of the others. One was missing its body, a petal head lolling on the ground, getting trampled on in the fight.

Steve had felt the demogorgon before Billy saw it.

It was an odd feeling, almost like it was a black hole sucking up everything he thought and felt before he could cling onto it.

It made him feel cold, and empty, and just like the Upside Down felt.

“We don’t have time!”

El was insisting on contacting the others. She was livid with them for abandoning Steve, but things were taking a turn for the small group trapped in that hellscape.

“Steve’s right. If there’s a demogorgon there, that means the Mind Flayer has gotten some strength back, wherever he is.”

Steve nodded at Will gratefully.

“But, what’s the idea? You two open the gate. Then what? We wait for those things to come through to our side?” Jonathan asked, kinda harshly, if you ask Steve.

Steve rubbed his eyes, his fists pressing against them so hard he was seeing odd shapes.

“No. I go through. I get them. I bring them back.” His head was a fucking mess. Billy was all over the place. Fear, desperation, and a horrible calm that only came when things looked like the end. Plant your feet, he thought, trying to get his feelings to Billy through the thin dimensional wall. Don’t stop fighting. “For the past few days, all I’ve been able to feel is somebody else’s fucking fear and this stupid stupid stubbornness and I know it’s Billy, and I know he’s in trouble. Like right now. The demogorgons are coming for them, and he’s so scared. He’s so fucking scared and he thinks he’s gonna die, and he’s trapped .”

He looked at each person individually, glaring at them all in the eye.

“We don’t have time.”

So it was decided.

He brought El outside, and stared into the shimmering water of the pool.

The pool where a demon came out and dragged Barbara to her death.

It gave him the fucking creeps. Well, it more gave him the severe anxiety, but there was something about it that made it seem like it was the best place to try and rip the fold between himself and Billy.

Drive them back. We’re coming.

He wanted Billy to have some hope. Something like a lifeline that would keep him fighting the monsters.

He had wrenched his nail bat out of the wall it was still planted in from a few nights ago, and stood next to El, ready to try.

“To be honest, I don’t know how to help you.” It was the only thing that scared him about this plan. “I don’t have the same powers as you. The telekin-the moving stuff around. I don’t know how to open this.”

She looked at him thoughtfully.

“In Chicago. Kali. When I’m angry my powers are better,” she took his hand. “Make me angry.”

Steve closed his eyes.

He tried to push Billy to the side, clinging onto the first bit of El he could sense.

Her anger was like a melted core running through her. Driving her in a lot of ways.

He grabbed onto it.

Papa. Everything he did to your mama. Being locked in isolation. Fights with Hopper. Being trapped in the cabin. Feeling alone and not knowing how to fix it. New kids at school being mean. Techs in the lab that treated us like rats. The smell of skin burning. Parents that called you a freak.

He didn’t know when he had stopped using El’s ready-made rage, and began siphoning his own straight into the beating heart of her fury.

His gut began to feel white-hot, and he could feel the blood dripping down his lip.

Lying to everyone. Being abandoned for the truth. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

Steve was livid.

He’s never felt an emotion consume him like this. Felt one feeling take over so completely it’s like there was nothing else in the world.

He opened his eyes.

There was blood flowing steadily from El’s nose, and he knew his was doing the same.

He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs, his body going into overdrive to divert all of his energy to his powers.

The rift glowed red through the clear pool water, splitting open like a seam on a well-worn shirt.

The burn on his arm ached, and he pushed into it.

He remembered being held down on his father’s desk. Remembers the cigar being forced against his skin, bubbling up and disfiguring the tattoo beyond recognition.

He remembers his father, this is for your own good, Steven. You’ll tell everyone you had an accident. People won’t question a burn like they will a tattoo.

Like no one would take one look at the quarter-sized mark and know what would make it.

He remembers getting the tattoo.

It was nearly the same process.

He was strapped down in a chair, his screams going ignored as the needle drove into his skin over and over, leaving a neat black number behind.

001

Number One.

The first in a series of children bred for something more, and beaten into acceptance.

His head felt like it could explode. He didn’t know what was going on around him, was barely aware of El’s sweaty hand in his, and the bright red light coming from the cracked bottom of the pool.

It was open.

Number One took a deep breath, and dived into the pool.

It was the little one that noticed it.

Billy had been trying to yell at him to get back inside, to keep himself out of harm’s way.

They had killed six demogorgons, and more were certainly coming.

The trees in the forest were rustling in a way they never did on their own.

The little one was pointing frantically, his eyes wide and scared.

Billy turned, and his blood ran cold.

Something was moving in the pool.

It was making the thick non-water slosh around dangerously, the dark liquid lapping over the sides and staining the concrete.

There were vines crisscrossing over the surface of the liquid, and Billy approached it carefully, hoping whatever was coming out would be trapped underneath them.

“This is the last fucking thing we need,” Hopper gritted out, cocking his rifle and aiming at the sludge.

And then Billy’s head felt like it had been cracked open.

He was blinded with pain and rage and

Help me, Hargrove!

He started swinging his ax wildly at the vines. Trying to break them apart enough for a body to fit through.

His heart thundered in his chest, and he dropped to his knees, ripping at the slimy black tendrils.

He shoved his left arm in.

It was like dousing his arm in ice. Like the liquid was made from the purest essence of cold.

He searched frantically with his hand, finding something solid and yanking with all his strength.

He had to put both arms in, grabbing hold of whatever he could, using his body weight as leverage to extract Steve from the cold.

He was limp when Billy finally got him out, but breathing heavily.

He opened his eyes, wiping his face free of the goop and blood covering him, and grinned at Billy.

“Told’ya we would get you out.”

They shepherd him inside, most of the gang speechless and struck dumb from the events of the past while.

Steve was given a change of almost clean clothes, and allowed to use some of their bottled water ration to clean the freezing black fluid from himself.

He wasted little time, and was down in the Upside Down version of his living room with everyone else.

“We can’t be long. El had to use a lot of strength to open it, but she’ll need her strength to close it, too.”

Nobody knew what in the fuck Steve was going on about.

Nobody but Hopper, that is.

He still had disgusting pool sludge all over his front from when he pulled Steve into a tight hug when he had gotten his bearings back from his journey through the rift.

“We can’t send people through that shit. It took all of Billy’s muscle to get you outta there.”

“So we drain it,” Steve insisted. “My parents drain it sometimes, I know how to do it.”

“I’ll keep watch. Make sure nothing tries to make itself known.”

Billy had barely wiped himself off.

He didn’t care anymore about how freezing that shit was, he just wanted to surge forward, and get back the fuck home.

Hopper studied them both.

“Bring weapons. Yell if you need help.”

Billy nodded once, and turned on his heel, following Steve out the back door.

Steve led him to a wooden shed on the side of the house. Billy had to clear the vines away from it before Steve could pry open the doors.

It was full of pool equipment, and it didn’t take long for Steve to locate a large grubby pump. He knocked it against the wall of the shed until the filter attachment clattered off, leaving bigger openings for the sludge to, hopefully, run through.

“Shit. This thing is electric. You got electricity?”

It was the first time Steve had really gotten a good look at Steve since being in the Upside Down.

He looked exactly as he had in the void place. His hair had a lot more disgusting black fluid in it, and he overall looked kinda shitty with the flecks of grime and blood on his face, but he looked bright. Alive. Strong.

“How did you do it? Take me to that place. Figure out we were here.”

Steve flushed. Billy had become overly aware that his face was completely covered under his bandana. Steve should cover his face.

He drew another one of his back pocket, and, he didn’t know why, but he tied it around Steve’s face.

Seriously, he could’ve just handed it to the guy and called it good there. But no. He had to set his ax on the ground, propped against his leg, wrap his arms around Steve’s shoulders, and tie the bandana like this was some intricate ritual.

All while Steve just stared at him with those fuckin’ eyes of his.

“It’s a long story.” Billy could barely hear Steve speak through the dirty cloth now covering his mouth and nose. “I’ll tell you when we’re back. When we’re safe.”

“I’m holding you to that, Harrington. Can’t have a guy poking around my dreams and shouting in my head without knowing his intentions.”

It was as close to flirting as Billy dared right now.

Right before they tried to journey between worlds.

“Good to know you heard me. I was trying to give you something of a pep talk.”

“Well, it worked. I would’ve just put my arms out and let those things rip me to shreds if I hadn’t have known.”

Billy didn’t know what Steve’s face was doing behind the cloth, but his eyes dropped, and Billy imagined that little cinch of his mouth that he had noticed Steve doing so much in that void place.

Billy meant it as a joke.

He really did.

And the Billy that was torn to bits in the mall wasn’t this Billy. Wasn’t the real Billy that was made out of real Billy materials and real Billy personality.

But it still made Steve feel queasy, thinking about his arms spread wide, black goop pouring out of his mouth and nose as the Mind Flayer decimated him.

“We’ve got a lot to talk about, Billy. Just, not now.”

And Steve turned off, hauling the pump back to the pool and taking calming breaths.

The pump sank without much effort, like there was some kind of gravitational pull at the bottom of the pool.

Steve had connected the thickest hose he could find, adn sent Billy off with the extension cord to find an outlet that didn’t spark and threaten fire.

Before no time, the pump was humming, and pushing black slime through the hose and onto the dead grass.

They didn’t need to get it all out, just as much as they could shove everyone through.

Steve closed his eyes, trying to reach El like he had Billy.

We had a hold up. Shouldn’t be long.

He could feel her on the other side.

She promised she would stay close enough to the rift that Steve could get in touch with her.

He could feel something slither down his spine, a wordless confirmation from her.

The liquid in the pool was slowly edging down, leaving a stain on the once-white walls of the pool.

“Gather everyone up. Tell ‘em to meet out here. Tell ‘em to leave it all behind.”

Billy was still staring at the edge of the forest when he commanded Steve.

It was odd, being in his house that’s not his house.

Everything was so. Wrong.

From the way the house seemed to be crumbling down, reduced to its studs in some areas, to the way it was still clearly his house. Paintings his father had bought. Elegant furniture his mother selected.

It was all there. Just under a thick layer of dirt and nightmares.

He thought idly about his bedroom, wondering if it would look like it did on his end. A little messy, the sheets typically rumpled and unmade.

He resisted the urge to wander upstairs, reminding himself he was on a mission.

“It’s time. Don’t bring anything. It’ll probably be ruined along the way.”

Everyone looked grave. Steve tried to smile at them, tried to push through some calmness to them all. He had forgotten Billy’s bandana was tied around his face. He sent one last wave of quiet confidence around the room, and led the group through the kitchen.

They had barely rounded the corner of the kitchen island when they heard a strangled yell from outside.

Steve put his head down, and sprinted through the shattered glass doors, skidding to a halt in the threshold.

Billy was staggering backward, his ax forgotten on the ground and his left hand was clinging wildly to his right shoulder.

His jacket was in tatters, thick blood dripping bright crimson down his arm, standing out like neon against the dark, dirty ground.

Steve didn’t feel himself moving forward. He didn’t feel his hands raising in front of him.

He just felt anger. The same anger from before that had ripped through him like a raging forest fire and straight into El.

The thing shrieked.

It backed away from Billy, twisting and writhing as its horrible screams filled the air, making the hair on the back of Steve’s neck stand on end.

Fierce fury was exploding out of him, and he grit his teeth against the pounding in his head.

“You don’t get to hurt him,” Steve barely barked out.

All went still, and the demogorgon snapped into pieces.

Steve felt like he could pass out where he stood.

He had never felt so wrung dry.

His vision was waning at the edges, and he felt an arm around his waist, coaxing him toward the red light now barely shining through a thin layer of slime in the pool.

“Hold your breath, Pretty Boy.”

Steve was limp against him, and Billy was doing his best to ignore the searing pain in his right shoulder as he held Steve close to his side. He had fumbled off both of their face coverings, moving clumsily through the pain of his injury.

He took one last breath, and jumped into the rip between worlds.

He plunged into the water, the crystal blue of a chlorinated pool.

It was the best feeling in the world.

Being covered and surrounded by clean. The heated water doing more to soothe Billy’s frayed nerves than anything in his life.

He kicked hard, swimming one-armed to the surface, Harrington a dead weight in his injured arm.

His head broke the water, and he took in deep lungfuls of clean, crisp air.

Someone was tugging at Steve, and Billy, for the first time in his fucking life, was glad to see those kids Max was constantly hanging around.

A woman Billy didn’t know was fawning over Steve, feeling for a pulse, and looking relieved when she felt his hot breath against her palm.

“There’s more coming,” Billy coughed.

He barely managed to get the words out, dripping muck and grime on the cement by the pool, when it felt as though he was hit from the side by a speeding train.

He buried his nose in bright orange hair, hugging Max back as tightly as he could manage.

He was exhausted, and feeling her there, alive and okay, was all that was keeping him standing.

“I thought, I mean, we all thought you were dead. We saw it. That thing killed you .” Billy realized, with a whole lotta horror, that she was crying. Sobbing outright into his dirty chest.

“Yeah, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” How could they have seen when that monster just came at him?

“Oh, you’re bleeding.”

And if she only just realized he was hurt?

Max frog-marched Billy inside, to a very pale-looking Nancy Wheeler, sitting ready with a first aid kit.

Billy had to peel his clothes off his body, the fabric stuck to him like a second skin.

Nobody was speaking, and more of the people locked in the other place came traipsing into the room, fluffy towels wrapped around their shoulders.

Hopper was the last to come in, holding the woman tight to his side underneath the striped pool towel.

“Steve and El are closing it back up.”

There was a quiet murmur around the room.

Nancy patched up Billy’s shoulder, Max still stuck to his side like glue, the little boy from camp pasted to his other side.

He had no idea how much time had past when Steve finally came traipsing into the room with Max’s little friend, both of them sporting matching bloody noses.

Steve looked like shit.

His face was covered in blood, old and new, and he still had some of the gross not-liquid in his hair from the Upside Down.

But Billy doesn’t think he’s ever been happier to see someone in his life.

“I’m sure everyone has questions,” said the woman tucked against Hop’s side. El, Billy assumes, had taken her place on Hop’s other side, wrapping the towel around her shoulders as well.

The woman launched into a story that made Billy feel like his brain was oozing out of his ears.

A monster. One they had all met before. Playing body snatcher in their sleepy little town.

Apparently, one had been wearing a Billy meat-suit and wreaking havoc around town, which made Billy wanna throw up until he died.

Which, not-Billy, had died. Fuckin’ brutally. And in front of everyone. Which sure as shit explained why Max wouldn’t let go of his sweaty hand.

The story made Billy queasy, and he took to studying everyone in the room instead.

All the kids were there, even the one that had been following Steve around like a little shadow, but they were all glaring in the very much opposite direction of Steve.

Steve himself was pressed almost against the wall, looking like he’d collapse if the wall weren’t supporting him.

“What’s up with the cold shoulder?” Billy muttered to Max.

“They’re mad at Steve right now. He’s been lying to us all.”

It was all he got out of her before everyone started moving around.

The woman, Joyce Byers, he’s learned, had finished her story, and the group from the Upside Down had begun clamoring for rides home, or maybe something to eat.

Billy just saw Steve manage to slip away before he followed him.

It took some doing, shaking off the little one, who still wasn’t speaking, and looked ready to burst into tears when Billy told him to stay behind in the living room.

But Janet Holloway took the kid’s other hand and gently led him back into the living room.

Billy nodded at her, and sped up the stairs.

It was weird, being in Harrington’s actual room.

It was messy, and looked like Steve spent most of his time here tossing clothes on the ground or twisting up in his bed covers like a tornado.

But it was oddly comforting.

Being in Steve’s real room, and not some perverse dirty copy.

Steve was standing, facing the bed, peeling his borrowed jacket from his shoulders and leaving it there on the floor.

“I never said thank you.”

Steve startled at Billy’s voice.

“Yeah. No problem.” Steve’s tone was light and airy, but Billy heard him sniff.

“Max said the little shitbirds are mad at you. Something about you lying.”

Steve turned around, giving Bily a watery smile.

“It’s a long story.”

“I got time.”

So Steve told him.

About the lab.

About the experiments.

About the torture.

He explained that he had rules. Never making anyone feel something they already didn’t. Never altering someone’s opinion of, or feelings towards him.

Billy grit his teeth as he imagined Wheeler giving Steve a hard time about that.

Steve was silent for a moment, not looking at Billy.

“It’s okay if you hate me. I mean, everyone does now.”

“You'd be able to feel if I hated you. You and those powers of yours just saved my life, Pretty Boy. I’m pretty sure I’m feeling the farthest thing from hatred just about now.”

It was as close to a confession as Billy would let himself get.

But if Steve knows what he’s feeling at any given moment, then that means that he knows, and he didn’t-

“Quit it. Insecurity isn’t a good look on you.”

Steve sounded tired, and he flopped back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling with his arms out.

At first, it didn’t sit quite right with Billy.

He had barely even begun to identify what he was feeling when Steve swooped in and just point blank told him what the emotion was.

Billy spent nearly all of his time being a big fuckin’ facade.

He tried his very best to hide any emotional tell from anyone around him.

He prided himself on being a chameleon. That nobody would ever truly know how he felt in any given situation.

And here’s pretty boy Steve Harrington. Who is feeling just as, if not more, strongly as Billy is.

But, it takes out all the parts of emotions that Billy hates dealing with.

Showing them. Talking about them.

He’d never once had to grapple with the words to explain how he feels to Steve.

Steve would just.

He’d know.

And god, that’s kind of a nice idea.

Billy sat down gently on the bed.

“Alright.”

Steve’s head popped up to stare incredulously at Billy.

Billy just grinned at him.

#this fic is named after kind of a throwaway line in rocky horror but thats my favorite movie and i thought it fits :)#i worked so hard on this and i'm really proud pls like it i'm begging #yikes writes #yikes gets pathetic in the notes #harringrove #harringrove big bang #harringrove big bang 2021 #harringrovebigbang2021 #harringrovebigbang #also look at me writing something in-universe for fucking once #steve harrington #billy hargrove #powers!steve #experiment!steve #i hate using the ! like that but whatever

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neozoid · 3 years ago

Text

Peril comes out

Peril's wingtips touched Clay's as they silently soared through the soft gray rain.

Half an hour ago, she had asked him if he would take just one moment to fly with her. After everything that had happened, with Jade Mountain Academy under threat and those little rapscallions - Moon, Turtle, Kinkajou, Anemone, Qibli, and Winter - had all managed to save it. The past week... no, weeks? She had lost track of time. But they had been a blur - a blur of emotions, of frustration, of painful, deep searing guilt, Darkstalker's scroll looming in her mind, and of longing. She hadn't gotten to talk to Clay in so long, and she wasn't sure that at the end of it he'd still feel the same way about her that he did when she saved his life on the brightest night.

She turned to look at his face in the grayness. His expression was focused, concentrated, effortful.

He must still be in a lot of pain from that burn I gave him, Peril thought guiltily.

No! She shook her head. I kept him alive! If it wasn't for me he'd be dead! But that didn't make her feel any better.

She turned her gaze back down to the valleys below, vast and dotted in slate blue pine trees obscured by the falling droplets. They rolled harmlessly off Clay, but they sizzled when they hit her and dissolved into steam, making her look like a ghost in flight. The rocky outcroppings below resembled a sleeping dragon - as if the landscape itself, was, once again, put to rest after Darkstalker's second sleep.

"Peril," Clay spoke.

She whipped her head around to him. "Clay?"

"I'm... I'm starting to get a bit tired. Do you think we could stop somewhere down below? Maybe in a cave."

She quickly scanned the landscape below her, and saw an opening just a half mile away. "Yeah, I see something down there." She turned herself in the direction of the cave, and Clay followed her.

As they came in for a landing, Peril opened her wings wide, scattering a million fallen petals that intermingled with the rain. She softly touched down and carefully wrapped her wings around herself, and looked back at Clay, beckoning.

They both sat in the mouth of the cave, tails twined, watching the rain fall.

After what seemed like just a moment (but Peril knew full well was the better part of an hour,) Clay looked at her and asked "So... do you want to talk about Scarlet? Or Ruby? Or the stuff that happened while you were helping Moon and her friends save Jade Mountain?"

Peril stared at him, startled. "No! I mean, yes! I mean, just..." She sighed and looked at the roof of the cave. "I do, but like... hrmmmnnm." She closed her mouth shut and hummed.

"I get it. It can be hard to talk about stuff like this. It took us five forever to find the time to reflect and talk about our feelings after everything happened." He looked at the ceiling too and laughed. "Tsunami..." he muttered happily, and shortly his smile faded, his face a sad, wistful stare. "And Glory."

"I... hm." She fidgeted with her talons nervously. "I mean, I DO want to talk about Queen Scarlet and Ruby and-" she shook her head, "not-queen-Scarlet and- arghh, but it's so! CONFUSING! And it makes me mad to think about her manipulating like that. I trusted her, I really did and..."

Clay looked into the rain. "Like we trusted Morrowseer."

"I... I guess... yeah..." She looked into a corner awkwardly, but then curled her fist. "She shouldn't have betrayed us like that!" she roared.

"What about... Turtle?" Clay offered.

Peril's heart jumped in her stomach. She thought about Turtle, the only other dragon who had understood and trusted her, at least for a while. How protective she felt of him, how she wanted to follow him (and then not...) when they were trying to find Queen Scarlet. She thought about how he went underwater that night, making her rage about how she couldn't get to him, and how regretful she felt when she left him behind. He made her feel new things, just like Clay, new weird things.

"He was nice, I guess."

"How did he feel about being an animus? That must've been why he was able to sympathize with you. He knew if he revealed his animus secret he'd be thrust into the talons of others and the plans they wanted for him, and the only way to avoid that was deep, resolute isolation. He knows how that feels, Peril."

She fumed with fury for a second. Why could he hide! He got to choose that lousy isolation, but she didn't have a choice! Then she thought about his pain-stricken face when she found his healing rock, or his vengeful look as he bashed Chameleon upside the-

Chameleon.

She stared through the wall of water passing outside.

"Peril," Clay whispered.

"Oh. Right." She looked back at him.

"I know it's a lot of stuff to think about, but I can't keep carrying this conversation by myself." He softly chuckled with a warm, patient smile.

She blushed and fluttered her wings. "Right. Sorry, sorry. I was just- argh. Arghhh." She squirmed, as if caterpillars were crawling out of her skin.

Do I tell him?

"Turtle," she said resolutely, "taught me new things about myself. He reminded me of you, actually, Clay. You were my first exposure to life outside the Skywing Palace, and if I'm being honest I was kind of disappointed with the other dragonets at Jade Academy, how they treated me. I thought they'd be like you - I thought everyone in the outside world would be like that."

Clay winced.

"But Turtle! Turtle has his friends, and, surely, he's taught them! I keep getting letters from them. Which is like, weird, but the fact that someone's thinking about me!? While I'm not in front of them!?! Threatening to blaze their FACE or melt their SKIN off!?!?!" She yelled with a smile. "It's CRAAAAZY!"

Clay let out a hearty laugh, smiling as well.

"And Queen Ruby - she hated me, she hated me so bad Clay, she hated me just as much as the other Skywings did, if not more. If Scarlet's twisted love is what makes me ache, Ruby's absolute hatred of me tore me to the core. She looked at me and didn't want anybody, nobody in the whole world to do anything with me. Didn't want anyone to touch me, look at me, love me. She saw me as an irredeemable monster because of things I couldn't control." Peril's face contorted in despair.

"But Tourmaline... Someone who hadn't been fed Scarlet's lies... She saw right through that and she knew deep in my heart I COULD love." She scratched her snout awkwardly. "Well, at least I think I can. I'm not sure."

Clay lovingly jabbed her with her shoulder, and she giggled.

"But that pure strong spirit.... It's so." Her stomach dropped. "It's so scary what Chameleon did to her. Ripped her title, her memories, her life away just for some gold, some jewels." She spat on the ground.

"And Chameleon..."

Her stomach felt like a howling void, ready to collapse her from the inside out.

Do I tell him?

What if he hates me?

He should hate me.

I'm just as bad as him.

I'm just like my dad.

She turned to Clay terrified.

"I-" she sputtered. "I want to tell you something."

Clay looked at her face, concerned, but he motioned around. "Just you and me."

"I-" Peril's muscles clenched, her veins wrapped all around inside her, her bones stabbed inside her, shame made her heat blaze ever hotter, shame and guilt and pain and fear. She wanted to fall into the ground and have it swallow her up, but she knew she didn't have a choice.

"I'm not - I'm not actually a girl. I was hatched as a boy. I- I- Queen Scarlet, she said, she- she wanted me to be like her and- " Words started running over one another. "When you got here- I- I- I just felt like protecting you- and- but- I didn't want you to give up on me- Having a relationship- I-" She wanted to die. She wanted to disappear. "I'm a liar. I'm- I'm just like Chameleon," she howled. "I'm faking it. I- I wanted you but I- I just-" She let go, and wailed.

She looked back at him. "P-please don't-don't hate me," Peril choked through tears.

Clay softly gazed at her, leaned in closer, his wings wrapping around her, and kissed her on her snout.

Peril tears turned to confusion as she leaped with delight and her scales roared a bright blazing blue, the searing heat singing any leftover moss in the cavern. Clay reflexively pulled away, and patted his singed scales, laughing.

"Ow, geez, haha! Not like that!"

"I- I- Huh??"

Peril stepped back, but looked up and peered at his expression.

He really doesn't hate me, she thought wondrously.

As Clay turned looking over himself, his scales settled, and as the smoke rose, he looked at Peril.

"You know, someone else actually said something similar to me a little while ago." He sat back down.

Peril crooned. "R-Really?"

"Yeah. It was - it was Sunny."

Peril's jaw dropped open.

"She'd mentioned to me how she'd - during our time fulfilling the dragonet prophecy, she'd... we'd kind of ignore her most of the time. Not take her seriously. When we first planned on escaping the cavern, we didn't tell her.... she was so upset, afterwards. And in all of our discussions and planning afterwards, we'd step on her feelings. Actually, you remember the Nightwing invasion? Or, well, whatever came of the invasion before they all came crashing into Glory's rainforest under fealty."

"Yeah?" Peril looked at him.

"She was the one who came up with the idea of using the sleeping darts! But Glory was planning, and the others were shouting, so she had to ask me to use my voice and SHOUT it at everyone. The point is, she felt small. And overly protected - we didn't respect her whole, y'know, feelings as part of the team."

Peril flicked her tail, anxious.

"So... A couple nights ago, she talked to me in private, and she told me how she'd been feeling, and... she said she didn't really feel like it was right to be a Queen anymore. Given Thorn had safely secured the position, and was doing a good job... And with everything about the Eye of Onyx." Clay shifted on his talons. "She could trust it to pick a new leader. And the thing is, you know how... you've seen Deathbringer. You've seen Riptide. You've seen Starflight and maybe even Winter and Qibli. And maybe even Darkstalker, and Clearsight."

He sighed.

"Male dragons have a strong feeling to protect one person, the one person who brings them all the light in the world. Sunny said she didn't really feel like that - like one person had captured her whole heart in their hands. But she certainly didn't want to be the object of that kind of affection either. And Sunny didn't feel like Queen Coral or Thorn or Scarlet either, where she wanted to protect her own kin, her own future. She wants to protect everybody. And more than that, she doesn't want to be Sunny the small and weak and lovable, or Sunny the fierce and possessive and loyal. She just wants to be... Sunny, helping out wherever she can."

Peril stared at him intently, blue eyes locked in brown. "And?"

"Well, at first we tried just referring to Sunny by name to sort of, you know, respect her decision, but Starflight looked through the library and found in some old scrolls people using 'they' to refer to - did you even know there were dragons who decided to live past being a boy or a girl in the past, just like Sunny? I was surprised."

Peril's mind was racing. "They must be so happy," she said, eyes sparkling.

Outside, the rain had cleared, and Peril noticed out beyond the cave was a huge field of sunflowers, waving and dancing in the cool wind.

Suddenly her thoughts returned to her.

"But that thing you said earlier about protecting..." Peril looked down at her talons uncomfortably.

"Oh yeah - sorry, I... I didn't mean to. I just..." Clay caught himself. "I... I'm sorry Peril. I know your feelings about this must be really, really complicated. I..." Clay looked away again with a twinge of guilt on his face.

Peril stared at him, trembling.

"But Sunny taught me something I hadn't even thought about before." He chuckled. "I did think about it too, but after a long night of restless staring at the sky and thinking I figured I was perfectly happy being a guy. But that look on Sunny's face... they must have struggled as much with telling us as you did."

"I love you, Peril. I don't think you're anything like Chameleon at all. He only used his identities to trick and manipulate others, to get what he wanted for himself. But you've only ever been trying to find yourself - with Scarlet twisting your thoughts from birth, with how everyone's avoided you and you've been excluded from all the Skywings and, man, even the other dragon's games on Jade Mountain. It must hurt so much to be that isolated."

Peril stared into the field, unable to meet his gaze, tears running down her face.

"I just want you to know, Peril, I love you for who you chose to be. For all of your heroism, and your kindness. Your self-restraint. Chameleon had none of those qualities. But you do."

He stared her straight in the eye.

"What you chose is noble, and so so hard. Being true to yourself - more than Chameleon ever was, he couldn't handle being boring old him - is so, so hard. I know."

Peril thought about the Chameleon's enchanted necklace that removed her firescales. She shuddered deeply."

But you did it. And you shouldn't have to live with the shame, or the guilt anymore. You can have a new beginning just like us." His eyes creased as he looked into hers so warmly, making her melt. "You might protect my scales, but I want to protect your smile. I hope you can let me do that."

"I-"

She rushed forward and hugged him, squeezing him tight. Tears streamed down her face, and she choked down a sob, but she hugged him as tight as she could, not letting go.

"Thank you, Clay," she said when she finally let him out of her little death trap.

"Woof!" He stumbled backwards, breathlessly. "I know I said be true to yourself, but maybe we can work a little on the intensity." He looked at her with a silly expression on his face. "Just kidding. You're perfect the way you are."

"Ha ha," she guffawed. "Tell that to anyone else at Jade Academy." She joked, but she knew deep in her heart that the others were starting to see her for what she could be, too. Not just a monster, or a weapon - but a friend.

"So my queen, shall we return to the mountain?" He curtseyed awkwardly, then looked up with one eye. "Actually, wait, that sounds kind of weird? Girlfriend? Babe?" He started scratching his head. "Names were never really my strong suit."

She howled with laughter and smacked him on the back, taking flight. "Just call me Peril," she triumphantly roared. As Clay lept into flight behind her, grinning, Peril thought... Not gonna lie - I like babe too.

#wings of fire #wof #wings of fire spoilers #wof spoilers #wof clay #wof peril #i did it #i wrote my first fanfic

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oneshot-wxnderland · 4 years ago

Text

Prince’s Kiss | Jason Grace

Summary: While on a mission, Y/n gets hurt and there’s only one way for Jason to save her.

Category: fluff

_____________________

You and Jason had found yourselves in many situations like this before: back to back, weapons drawn, and fighting off a hoard of monsters. The rhythm and coordination you two had crafted over the course of hundreds of hours in battle and in training together proved to be a formidable force against opponents. You covered each other’s blind spots and moved as one. Which was necessary in the cramped alleyway.

Soon enough your attackers had diminished in number until just a few were left and one big ugly came charging at you. You swung at it but your sword got stuck half-way through its wood club and wouldn’t come when you pulled.

“Jay-.” Ducking under the monster’s swing, you continued to try and pry your sword free.

“On it.” Jason replied and finished off his opponent with a quick and calculated strike before he spun around to help. You ducked beneath his arm as it arched over you and cut into the monster, turning it to dust before he reached around you and wrapped his hands around your own on the hilt of your sword. It came free with a strong pull from your combined strength and you both let out a heavy breath now that it was over.

“Thanks,” you huffed, out of breath.

“Don’t mention it,” he nodded, equally fatigued.

“You know,” you kicked the wood club out of your way as you started to leave. “You’d think that with how often this happens, we’d be less winded.”

“I’m fine, I think it’s just you,” he nudged your shoulder with his and you laughed.

“Oh really? Bet I could beat you back to the motel.”

“You sure you wanna do this?”

“I think you’re scared, Jay-.”

A sharp sting to your side cut off your words. You looked down to see a scorpion-looking monster crouching behind the dumpster next to you and it reared its tail for another attack. Your limbs were sluggish as you tried pathetically to raise your sword and fight.

“You’re on, Y/n.” Jason looked back at you, a challenging smile on his face that fell immediately when he saw the blood coming from your side and the monster about to swing. “Y/n!”

His sword found its mark and the monster was finished before it could strike again and he spun to face you, worry creasing his brow.

“Are you alright?” He reached out his hand towards your wound and caught you in his arms as you collapsed. “Hold on, Y/n.”

The motel room you had rented for your mission wasn’t far and Jason made record time carrying you back to it. He laid you on one of the beds and gently lifted your shirt up over your stomach so that he could see the wound. It didn’t look too deep once he cleaned it up but you still hadn’t woken up. That’s when he knew something was wrong. You were one of the toughest people Jason knew and he had seen you walk off wounds far worse than this.

Deciding he needed some professional help, Jason scrambled to get a golden drachma from his backpack and ran to the bathroom to turn on the shower.

When the misty picture of Will Solace lit up the tiles, Jason called out to him frantically.

“Jason!” Will jumped and spun around to see the Iris message. He took in the usually composed leader’s worry and then past the open bathroom door to where he could see Y/n unmoving on the bed and immediately snapped into business mode. “What’s wrong.”

“I don’t know she got hit and passed out but the wound isn’t that bad and she can’t eat any ambrosia like this. What do I do?”

“You said the wound isn’t bad?” Will asked and Jason held his hand up in an approximation of how big it is, not wanting to move you from the bed. “And she’s passed out? It must be something else then. Did you see what hit her?”

“Yeah it was some kind of scorpion looking thing, I don’t know.” Jason ran his hand through his hair and walked back over to you, inspecting the wound and holding your hand that Will couldn’t see.

“Does she have a fever? It could be some kind of poison,” Will offered and Jason felt your forehead.

“She’s burning up.”

“I don’t get it,” Will tore through his books looking for an answer. “There isn’t a kind of monster like that who’s sting produces these kinds of symptoms.”

Jason walked back over to the bathroom and looked at Will’s surroundings.

“Is Annabeth there? She would probably know.”

“She’s in New York City with Percy.” Jason’s budding hope shrank again and he looked at your reflection in the mirror. Your skin looked drained of color but at least the wound had stopped bleeding. “I’ll keep looking. Did the wound look discolored at all-?”

Jason jumped from a cry of pain and rushed back to your side where you were thrashing around in your sleep. He grabbed your wrists and tried to hold you down so you wouldn’t hurt yourself, your eyes screwed shut and agonized noises like a twisting knife in his gut. “Will!”

“I’m looking! Try to keep her still!”

Even unconscious, you were putting up a hell of a fight for Jason who was struggling to hold you down, especially since he was trying not to hurt you.

“Jason, you gotta hold her down.”

He jumped up and straddled your hips to keep your legs down and leaned the rest of his weight into keeping your wrists to the pillow.

“Wait, you guys were looking for monsters who stole stuff from Aphrodite, right?”

“Yeah?” The entire point of the mission had left Jason’s mind since he saw you collapse and he was too anxious to follow Will’s thinking.

“Then what if it was one of Aphrodite’s potions that the stinger was dipped in?” Will grabbed a new book and wildly searched through it. “This one must be it! Fainting, fever, convulsions… yeah it’s this one.”

“What do I do?” The fight was being drained from you but Jason was hesitant to do more than ease on his grip a little in case you started up again.

“It says that the only cure is a… wow, that is so like Aphrodite.”

“Will.”

“Okay it says that the only cure is a kiss from royalty, like a prince or something.”

Jason’s hope was crushed once again seeing as how even if they weren’t in America, a prince would be exceptionally hard to acquire.

“Well I don’t think I’ll be able to find a prince in the middle of Wisconsin. Is there another option?” There had to be another way. No way in hell was Jason going to lose you. Especially not before you knew how he felt.

You had completely stopped fighting against him and Jason wished you would keep doing so even if he was tired. He much preferred it to you lying there limp and lifeless.

“Wait, wait, wait. Zeus is the king of the gods,” Will started and expected Jason to catch on to his idea. “And you’re his son.”

“Well, technically I’m the son of Jupiter, but what does that have to do with anything?” Jason removed himself from on top of you and walked over to Will.

“I mean that technically makes you a prince, Jason.”

Jason frowned in concentration, weighing the legitimacy of that claim. Then he struggled to fight off a blush when he realized what Will was insinuating he has to do now.

“Are you sure that counts? Like there’s not another way?” Jason looked back at you, now dealing with new emotions adding to his turmoil.

“Jason, you have to try it. And like now, she doesn’t have long. It says here that once the convulsions stop they don’t have much time left.” Will’s face was getting blurry as the Iris message was running out.

“What if it doesn’t work, what do I do?” Jason pleaded to the fading form of his friend. “Will, Will!”

The Iris message cut off and Jason hit the wall in frustration before he returned to your side.

“This better work.” He didn’t know what he would do if it didn’t. As Jason knelt down and brushed some hair out of your face he couldn’t imagine having to live without you by his side. Even if you didn’t return his feelings, your friendship was too important to him. The thought of losing you made him forget any nerves he had and he leaned down and gingerly pressed his lips to yours.

The change was immediate as you breathed in life. Your eyes opened and the first thing they saw was Jason’s.

“Jay?” He broke out into the biggest smile you had ever seen on him and he pulled you into a hug. “What happened?”

“You got kinda poisoned and almost died.” At this point you registered the dull pain emitting from your side and leaned back to look at your injury. “But you didn’t because I saved you. You’re welcome.”

“Oh, so you’re my Prince Charming?” You asked him and he shrugged.

“I mean, technically.” His voice sounded less confident than it had and you looked at him quizzically, which made him avoid your gaze by walking over to his backpack. “How do you feel?”

“Fine…” you answered, still thinking about his sudden mood shift. “Except for whatever happened here.”

“Giant scorpion thing,” he answered and walked back over, handing you a square of ambrosia.

“Cool.” The ambrosia soothed your side and you leaned against the headboard in relief.

“Hardly,” Jason scoffed, sitting next to you but looking down at his lap. “You collapsed and went pale and I thought I was going to lose you.”

He got quiet and you saw the stress and worry in his slumped shoulders.

“The thought of you just… being gone. Before I could say goodbye or, or tell you how I feel. You were so pale…” His jaw clenched and he turned his face away from you.

“Jason,” you placed your hand on his shoulder and made him look at you. His blue eyes teared up and you felt a physical tug on your heart. Your hands cradled his face and gently wiped away the tear that fell to his cheek. “I’m okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

His head hung and landed on your shoulder, your hand combed through his hair.

“And Jason?” You asked as you remembered a sensation from when you woke up.

“Mm-hm?” He responded from your shoulder, his voice steadier now.

“Did you… kiss me?”

At that he burst upright and a blush was raging on his face.

“Okay, I had to do it or you would die. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to- I mean I did want to kiss you. For a while now, actually, but not like this and especially when I couldn’t tell if you wanted me to or not. Will just said that there was no other way so-.”

“Shut up.” His eyes snapped to you failing to suppress your grin. “Don’t apologize. Just… do it again.”

His lips parted in shock and then one side lifted up as he leaned into you. Your hands held his face as his mouth pressed into yours and your bodies sighed into each other. So many years of longing and second-guessing and finally getting an answer, you couldn’t believe this was really happening.

Jason tilted his head further and deepened the kiss, his hand moving to your leg that was propped up on the bed, sliding from your knee down to your hip and squeezing.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled against his lips before you could stop yourself and you felt his smirk.

“Just wait.”

His lips moved down to your neck and you could breathe again but your head didn’t get any clearer, until you looked into the bathroom.

“Jason?”

“Hm?” His voice tickled the sensitive skin of your throat .

“Why is the shower on?”

#jason grace #Jason Grace x Reader #jason grace x you #jason grace x y/n #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n

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saphirered · 3 years ago

Note

I thought this would be an interesting twist: After the failed ritual, what if Lucien's s/o ran into Molly? Thank you!

Okay so this one came out quicker than I expected 😅. Little 'twist' at the end because I could not help myself. I hope you enjoy it! 😘

You warned him. You warned him so many times but he wouldn’t bloody listen. Too caught up in his own game for power, never satisfied. But what were you supposed to do? Stop him? No, you’d never. You loved him more than that but you were not prepared to follow him to his own death. Lucien, you idiot how could you? You tried everything but he didn’t come back. The ritual failed. You didn’t want to uphold your part of the bargain. You knew this mage had ulterior motives and after being granted a peak of those pages she wouldn’t back down.

The woman wanted it all for herself and Lucien stood between her and that power the Eyes of Nine had to offer. Knowing the Tombtakers would follow Lucien to the extremes they would also accept the risks of this ritual and would be content but disappointed should it fail. With what you had seen you knew it shouldn’t fail. You had warned Lucien of your suspicions but his own arrogance made him blind to the consequences of this all. He wouldn’t listen and you were becoming an obstacle so when the ritual was to go down you weren’t there.

Lucien has slipped away from your warm embrace in the dead of night to perform the ritual and of course Vess messed with it, assuring he wouldn’t be able to return to his body therefor as per the agreement, she’d take the book as payment. It was too late when you found him, already dead. No amount of healing or revivification could bring him back to you. You had to accept that but you could enact revenge on the bitch that took him away from you. You’ll have her wishing she was the one in a shallow grave instead.

The Tombtakers diverged, finding their own paths. Cree tried to take you with her but you wouldn’t. You had your own task to complete. After that you could rest. Making the arrangements, finding allies where you could, earning and cashing in favours from anyone of power or resources you could left you with quite the arsenal at your disposal but you couldn’t just walk into the capital of the Dwendalian Empire and murder one of the archmages of the Cerberus Assembly. You had to be patient, lay low and let everyone think you moved on.

Still you visited the grave whenever you could. There was a comfort in the hope that maybe, wherever he was he could hear you. Lucien would probably scold you for going on a revenge path against one of the most powerful magic users on the continent all by your lonesome. He’s one to talk. Nevermind, you told him about your adventures, and hoping to acquire the resources to attempt to bring him back. You won’t give up hope.

Then you returned, returned to find the grave empty. You followed the tracks but they lead you nowhere. You had to find him. You had to find Lucien before anyone else did because what might they do? What state would he be in? Does this mean he’s already ascended? Would this mean he’d truly fully become the Nonagon for once and for all? But most of all, you just want him back in your arms knowing he’d be safe. You’d scour Exandria to find him.

There you are standing in a dark alleyway, hood blocking direct view of your face as you’re quite literally in the middle of a back alley deal. You’re no stranger to the shady business and shady people can most often be found in these places. You pay your contact in exchange for the information your requested, satisfied with the results. You hear commotion on the main street. Guards. Parting from your contact you wait for the guards to pass. That’s when you notice a lavender tiefling bolt past you. A very familiar lavender tiefling.

Confusion, relief, heartache, panic, happiness, disappointment, a wave of emotion hits you in a way you’re not even sure how you’re supposed to feel at this point. Many questions accompany those feelings. What are you supposed to do? Well, go after him of course! If Lucien’s back and he’s being chased by guards, that’s not a good thing for the current situation. Sticking to the shadows you trail along. Lucien may just have lost his touch but perhaps the city is an unfamiliar one to him and alone, he doesn’t know the way. The tattoos are new, so are the rather colourful clothes but you know he never does anything without reason.

You figure out where he’s going, the direction at least and from your own past encounters here you know the side alleys. You take a path that should have you end up ahead of him. You’ll have to take a few rooftops and private yards but it’s the quickest and you’ve done it plenty of times. Once you get in place you take off your cloak, get ready. You hear the guards shouting for reinforcements. The closer he gets from around the corner you can see the smug grin filled with mischief as he runs. You’ve missed that one.

The moment comes and you grab onto him as he passes pulling him into the alley with you, wrapping your cloak around him and pulling the hood up. Hands on both sides of his face you look at him closely. There’s confusion in his eyes as they focus on you. He’s already out of breath but you pull him into a deep kiss. Lucien hits the wall behind him and readjusts the hood of the cloak to keep his face covered. The response to the kiss only comes with the sound of the guards drawing near and is very confused. The guards pass by. They glance into the alley but awkwardly turn back to following the street upon seeing the two of you together.

As soon as they’re gone Mollymauk breaks away from you. He’s breathing heavily more from the run than the kiss you shared. He’s very confused. Indifferent to being kissed by a stranger, this… unexpected to say the least. He’s got no idea who you are but you saved his ass so you’re alright in his books at the moment. That doesn’t mean he’s not wary of you. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you know him, or well whoever he used to be and with the conflicting emotions running through you he’ll have to think fast to spin his bullshit correctly.

“You have no idea how happy I am you’re alive. Does this mean it worked after all? Did you succeed?” You run your thumbs over Lucien’s cheekbones as he holds onto your wrists lightly. The pressure in your chest grows heavier as you await his answer.

“It did. I did. It didn’t go as planned but I’m here now.” Molly works his charm like his life depends on it because he entertains the thought it might. Your touch, there’s something eerily familiar about it, akin to being reminded of a distant long forgotten dream. Hazy but it feels real. He still has no idea who you are and there’s no bells ringing either. While he much rather run far away avoiding any and all connections to a past not his, he cannot help but commend whoever came before him. The one that got buried definitely had a good taste in lovers? Friends? Molly’s not going to assume even though you kissed him quite passionately.

Your chest clenches and it feels as if your breath won’t leave your body, your blood stopping in your veins, like you got hit by an extra dimensional force attempting to pull everything away from you. You listen to Lucien’s words. It looks like him but why do you feel like you hear someone else? It’s not an illusion or some trick you’re sure. If it were your enemies would have known to pick a better imposter and you’d have been dead already. Your own mind fights against this train of thought, justifying it. Lucien had been dead for weeks until you found the empty grave. Of course there were bound to be side effects or even consequences to the ritual. But then again, it had been two years since then. Two years to recover from whatever happened…

“You don’t know me, do you?” Speaking the words out loud breaks your heart. You don’t fight the pain they cause. There’s no tears. You’ve already grieved Lucien once. You’re not doing it again. This will be nothing more than a painful reminder, a cruel joke from the gods behind the divine gate. Why must the fates torture you so for nothing more than loving an ambitious man reaching for the stars and beyond?

“No. I’m sorry.” Molly can’t help but feel your pain. It’s clear you cared a great amount about his predecessor, the way you speak reveals intense heartbreak at the passing of that one. It also shows acceptance that whoever he used to be is gone and you’ve come to terms with that a while ago. That’s enough for him to recognise you won’t hurt him. Molly had never felt sorry for the death of who he used to be and he won’t start now but he does feel sorry for you. This whole situation is messed up.

You close your eyes and nod, dropping your hands and take a step back. No matter how much your heart may tell you to be close to this tiefling, your mind knows it’s not Lucien. You cannot in good conscious hang onto whatever remains. It’s not fair you him, to Lucien but most of all not fair to yourself. Do you wish it was Lucien standing here in front of you? Of course you do. You’d do anything to get him back but what would directing all your pain achieve directed at this new person in the same body? It would accomplish nothing but more pain. You can’t imagine this tiefling in front of you doesn’t have any friends, loved ones, people who care about him. You weren’t going to put you don’t know how many others through the same pain you’ve been put through.

“I am as much of a ghost of the past to you as you are to me.” You’ve come to the conclusion that based of his responses there may not be any recognition, there is an unknown familiarity to you on his end. Perhaps the final slivers of Lucien remaining but nothing more than a fleeting memory. A hand reaches out for yours. You allow him to take your hand and he rubs circles in the back of it with his thumb in an attempt to bring you some comfort. It’s a gesture out of kindness. Not out of selfish intent or with the expectancy to get something out of it, like Lucien would when faced with a stranger he clearly had the upper hand over.

“You seem to have cared for my predecessor, Lucien, quite a lot. I truly am sorry.” You offer him a saddened smile as a silent thank you. He knows Lucien’s name so he must have learned something of the past. You gather it hasn’t been much and most definitely is second hand knowledge by his lack of information on the ritual, who he used to be, everything really.

“You know his name?” The sentence is voiced somewhere in between a question and a statement.

“A blood cleric named Cree. She ran into us-me and mistook me for him. I played along but I don’t think she really bought it. She didn’t reveal much.” The name of the tabaxi alone is enough to make your blood boil. If Cree had known for however long, why hadn’t she gotten in contact with you? You know exactly why and are debating wether or not you could do with a new fur rug. You also acknowledge that Cree is a risk and this new-not Lucien will have to watch his back.

“Since you’re not Lucien nor do you seem to be using that name, what do I call you?”

“Mollymauk Tealeaf or simply Molly to my friends.” The tiefling-Mollymauk smiles at you, a genuine smile. You have to appreciate the small gestures of comfort and kindness.

“I would give you my own name but for both of our sakes I won’t. You may refer to me as an old friend. I know I have no right to but may I ask you a favour?”

Mollymauk nods. As always he leaves a place better than he found it, tries to bring joy and happiness wherever he can even if that means making a fool of himself. Very few times has he been faced with someone who needs his help as much as you do. While there’s definitely limits to what he can provide, you deserve some compassion. Especially after the shitty cards life had dealt to you. He’ll try to ease that if he can.

“May I- May I ask you to tell me about your life, Mollymauk?” Not the request he expected. Then again, to be fair he didn’t really know what to expect. A kiss maybe? Stick along for a while? Perhaps even a final goodbye so you could close this chapter once and for all? But of all the things you asked about him. Not Lucien. Him.

“It’s a long story…” Molly drifts off reminiscing the wild ride of the past two years, especially the events of the last few months upon joining the Mighty Nein and the adventures they had already gone on; were currently on but if you really wanted to hear all about that, he’d tell you.

“I have plenty of time. How about we walk and talk? Get you back to your traveling companions? Your friends? And if there’s still plenty more to tell, if you want to you can tell me over a few drinks. My treat.” You feel within yourself you’d better be able to let go knowing this Mollymauk is happy and lives content. Lucien might be gone but Mollymauk deserves a good life free of Lucien’s burdens. You’ll do what you can to assure that.

“Never tell a story for free. That sounds like a good deal.” Molly offers you his arm and when you hesitate, expects you not to take it but to his surprise you do. There’s something strangely comforting about the whole ordeal. You’re both strangers to each other but it still feels like you have known each other for years.

On your way to where Mollymauk is staying he feels no need to hold back or deceive and instead tells you what happened to him; how he woke up, dug himself out of a grave and was found by a kind man, joined the circus, became a fortune teller, made friends along the way, found a family, many tales of the mischief he was up to, leaving every place better than he found it. You had some good laughs and were able to ask some questions throughout. All in all you came to the conclusion Mollymauk’s life hasn’t been an easy one but it was a good one and he was happy.

Then he found this group of strangers in a tavern somewhere in Trostenwald. His old family was torn away in the wreckage of a devil toad but he found a new one in these strangers. The Mighty Nein. Their time together has been but a few months but they already feel like family and he’d do anything for them. They might be assholes but they’re good people.

You got to meet them. Molly- as he keeps insisting because you are his friend now, introduced you to this Mighty Nein as he thought it best you heard some of these stories from their mouths too for the sake of perspective. He introduced you to them as such; an old friend from the past. The details were left blurry but Molly’s confidence was enough to leave them at the very least accepting and not mistrusting you. They shared their stories with you. They needed him. They may have come far from the assholes they were, but they still had a ways to go. You knew you could not tear that away from him nor did you feel right to join them, even if temporarily.

It’s time for you to say goodbye. You bid your farewell to the Mighty Nein and while they would ask you to stay just a little longer, you know you cannot. You will not insert yourself into their lives based on the merits of your own lies and life. They are free so let them be free. Molly walks you out so you may have one final conversation before you leave his world behind you.

“You don’t have to go yet. They enjoy your company and honestly, they could learn a thing or two from you.” Molly offers as you stand outside of the tavern, the sky since having grown dark and the stars out. The air is cool, winter is drawing near, before you know it the frost will stick to the ground and you’ll be back in Shadycreek plotting the demise of a certain Cerberus Assembly member. You’ll have to leave this all behind.

“You know I can’t. For all of our sakes.” You offer Molly a smile. You’re happy with what you got to see, the stories you were told but this is where it ends and that’s okay. Molly knows it too. Sometimes it’s better to let go than to hang on. You have your own life just as he has his.

“So I guess this is goodbye then.” Molly takes hold of both of your hands and squeezes lightly before he pulls you in for a hug. You return the embrace. Pulling apart enough to look him in the eyes you stroke his cheek, tracing the tattoos fanning up his neck and jaw.

“I am still but a ghost of the past. A ghost I will remain. I wish you a good life, Mollymauk Tealeaf. May we one day meet again.” You kiss his cheek and despite the appearance of Lucien, it doesn’t feel the same. Despite how it may sound, you’re happy it doesn’t. You step out of Molly’s arms.

“May we meet again.” The words Molly speaks are like a breath upon the wind as you walk backwards, one final look at the lavender tiefling as you blend into the darkness, fading like a ghost.

There may be many more things Molly would like to ask you. He’d like to get to know you and the thought that maybe one day he might, sounds like a good day in his mind. You have your own business to take care of first but maybe one day you will meet again. For now a ghost of the past he doesn’t recall you will remain…

——————

But a few months later you find your way back on the road to Shadycreek Run. There you found a grave marker along the Glory Run Road… The marker held a colourful ostentatious red coat embellished to the nines. It appears to have been left to the weather for some time but you recognise it. Hit with a sense of dread you approach the grave already knowing who it belongs to. The least you can do is pay your final respects to the friend you never got to know more.

You dismount your horse guiding it the reins closer to the marker. That’s definitely Molly’s coat. There’s no denying that now. You walk further up the hill offering a silent prayer to the Moonweaver who Molly admitted to being a follower of.

Approaching the grave you see it dug up. You expect grave robbers, thieves of some kind as you brush your fingers over the fabric of the coat. You get a glance of the grave and see it empty instead. Not robbed; empty. No body, nothing but the marker and the coat. Down the other side of the hill you see a figure, a lavender tiefling, tapestry draped around him watching the skies. The back is turned to you so the tiefling doesn’t see you. A wave of both relieve and dread washes over you as you are met with your own ghost of the past.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #critical role #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #mollymauk x reader #lucien x reader

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milliedazzledust · 4 years ago

Text

War Rages On: part 3 (Bucky Barnes imagine)

Words: 2451

A/N: if you don’t want to cry, word of advice, don’t listen to anything remotely sad. I literally have 3 potential endings to this story, don’t know which one I’ll choose. Part 4 will have a lot more action and part 5 will probably be the last. Don’t forget to keep tissue close by while reading ;) - enjoy!

Previously: part 1 - part 2

When Bucky walked inside the building he had once lived in, he felt anxious. Not for himself, but for Y/N. During the two hours his ride in the air lasted, he envisioned a thousand possibilities this could play out. He needed her to make it out of there. Whatever he would have to endure, he’d agree to any kind of torture so long as she was safe. He knew he wouldn’t bear to add her name to his already long list of victims. Her only fault had been to fall in love with him. It couldn’t lead her to death, not like this, not because of him. He would never allow Hydra to break the only pieces left of him she had managed to glue back together.

He knew the place by heart, so finding the cells where they would usually keep all their prisoners was fairly easy. Focused on the task, he was taking slow, measured breaths, watching every step he was making, avoiding the guards and the security cameras. He was silent. A ghost. He stopped at an entrance and sneaked out behind a soldier standing by the door. With a swift motion, he broke his neck and used his badge to access the place. Every movement felt rehearsed, a routine he had done a million times. He was mimicking the Winter Soldier with a perfection that still surprised him. He had almost reached the end of an endless hallway of empty cells when he stopped in his track.

“Y/N” He whispered. There she was on the dirty floor, laying right in front of him. She wasn’t moving and from the distance, she looked pale. Too pale to be alive.

“Y/N!” He repeated louder, not caring if anybody could hear him.

She didn’t answer, didn’t even move an inch. He took a tentative step toward her, afraid of what he would see when he would open the door. He raised his metal arm and grabbed the lock, tearing it apart in a swift motion. The gesture was effortless, the power colossal. He didn’t even blinked, his eyes remaining always on her frail figure. He slowly bent down, trying to ignore the bruises visible through her half-torn shirt and the dried blood everywhere on the floor. He laid a fearful finger on her throat and waited a second. Finally, he released a shaky breath, relieved beyond measure when he felt her heartbeat. She was alive.

Gently cupping her face, he brushed a hand against her cheek. His heart broke when he saw the shadow of a smile forming on her lips.

“Bucky” She muttered in contentment.

“Yes, doll. I’m here”

She didn’t open her eyes but tears slowly coursed their way down her face. Her lips parted and she leaned against his hand, inhaling deeply.

“We have to go, Y/N”

“You feel so real,” She answered. “Why do you feel so real ?”

She sounded upset, but not because of him. She could make out every detail, his scent, his voice, his touch. She wondered what kind of cruel game her subconscious was playing as she let his presence submerge her entirely. He raised his eyebrows in confusion, not understanding that, for her, there was no way he could be there. She had spent the last couple of days picturing him in her mind to ease the pain, to escape the torture. He was the fragment of her imagination keeping her alive. Her last shred of strength.

“Am I dying ?” She murmured. “Is that why you’re here ?”

“Y/N, open your eyes” He demanded with force.

“No..”

“C’mon, doll”

“You’ll disappear. You always do” She sounded broken, on the verge of snapping, but kept them closed.

“I promise I won’t” His voice cracked with every word, overwhelmed by the pain and helplessness when she spoke.

She grabbed his wrist, holding it tightly as she slowly opened her eyes. Her whole body was shaking, afraid the soothing sensation of his skin on hers would be gone and she would only see an empty room once again. It took her a moment to realize he wouldn't disappear and she started sobbing. Her shaky hands cupped his face, wiping his own tears. He gently laid his forehead against hers and she didn’t waste any more time and hugged him. She clung to him, her only safe place, as the battle for the remaining shred of her sanity raged. She tried to catch her breath but it was useless. This was days of emotions bottled up to survive, days of dreaming she could return to him.

“We’re gonna be okay” He kept saying, holding her tightly.

“Bucky …” She choked in despair. This was the safest she had felt in days.

“I’m here, doll”

He swallowed and blinked a couple of times, trying to stay strong and not break down.

“We have to hurry, Y/N” He reminded her after a while.

His voice seemed to bring her back to reality and she suddenly sat up, ignoring the dizziness and the pain it instantly ignited in her body.

“No, no, no, you have to leave!” She started begging, furiously shaking her head and clenched his shirt in desperation. “You can’t be here! You can’t! Please … Please go ”

“Y/N…”

“You don’t understand, they … they want you, Bucky. They’re using me to get to you” She put some distance between them and pushed him away when he tried to get closer. “You have to go”

“Not without you”

“You’re not listening!” She replied, frustrated.

“I am! And I am telling you i’m not leaving without you!”

He stood up and helped her do the same. She couldn’t hold on her own, too weak and tired. She pressed her hands on his shoulders to steady herself and his metal arm circled her waist.

“I’m taking you home”

“I don’t think so” A voice with a thick accent replied behind him.

The former assassin cursed under his breath and was quick to react. He pushed Y/N behind him, hiding her wounded body from the intruder. Suddenly on high alert, he stared at the man he once knew, a man hired by Hydra with the sole purpose of creating new super soldiers. He was the brain behind the Winter Soldier program. The Sergeant subconsciously grabbed the woman by her hip, bringing her as close to him as possible.

“Dr.Faustus” He greeted him without sympathy.

“At last we are reunited, soldier”

Bucky clenched his jaw so tight his veins were now visible. In all the time he had spent away from Hydra, he never thought he would come face to face with the doctor ever again. All their encounters had been turned into a distant memory, another one of his nightmares. The Sergeant was unexpectedly conflicted, like two parts of him smashing against each other for the first time, two very different men colliding together without his consent. The broken one felt scared, powerless, becoming once again a victim, while the assassin was already on the lookout, trying to find his way out of there.

Y/N could feel it. Hidden behind him, she laid her forehead on his back, defeated. His muscles were tensed under the pressure of his emotions and his grip on her hip tightened. She couldn’t contain her terror and silently cried. How could she save him now that they had him back ? What could she do when her body was in no shape to fight ?

“I wouldn’t advise trying to escape” The man spoke.

“You know I don’t back down without a fight” Bucky replied, eyeing the three agents surrounding the doctor. They were outnumbered.

“You might want to reconsider this time” He smirked viciously.

He made a step toward the couple, moving like a snake reading to suffocate its prey by strengthening its hold around their neck.

“Before you think about taking them down,” Hydra’s doctor began, pointing at the agents next to him “You should know she won’t survive. You see, the girl serves no purpose anymore. She was a mean to an end and she played her part perfectly. She got you right where we wanted you to be, up against a wall”

Bucky gritted his teeth in silent fury.

“I’m assuming she means a great deal to you, soldat” He sniggered irritatingly. He seemed to enjoy the emotional torture. “Now the real question is, how far are you willing to take this to save her life?”

Bucky looked around him and just felt a rage he couldn’t explain, a will to survive he never had before. Y/N grabbed the hand on her hip, entwining their fingers, and he closed his eyes. For a short instant, he held onto that comforting sensation, the sense of home she could bring to him by the simplest touch. He remembered the day they met, the exact moment he had fallen in love with her and the day they had promised forever to each other. He had a collection of precious memories they had built, engraved in his heart, and each one of them had the power to lessen his pain and lighten the weight on his shoulders. They needed more time to create their magic, to turn the horror they had endured into sparkles of distant memories. More time to live the life she had given back to him. But even more so, he needed her to survive.

“If I surrender myself, what guarantee do I have you’ll let her go ?” He offered.

“No!” Y/N shouted, trying to move around Bucky. He didn’t have to use much effort to push her back.

The doctor laughed, pleased his plan was working flawlessly. He turned on his heels and nodded at one of the soldiers next to him. The man took a phone out of his pocket and handed it to the former assassin.

“What is this ?” Bucky questioned him, ignoring the pleading eyes of the woman begging him to not give in.

“A message” Dr.Faustus replied. “With coordinates to this place, addressed to your Captain”

“This isn’t enough”

“Press the button and send it yourself, then”

Bucky gave him a wary look but took the phone nonetheless.

“I have a condition” He raised his eyes to stare at the man.

“You are in no position to negotiate, soldat”

“If you want me to follow you willingly, you will listen”

He pursed his lips in annoyance.

“Very well”

Bucky glanced back at his girlfriend, barely holding on her legs but still ready to kill him herself for what he was about to do.

“Let me have a moment with her” He pleaded, his voice deep with emotions.

“If you plan to escape …”

“I won’t” He cut him with a promise he would keep.

He seemed to ponder his options for a moment before he gave a nod, accepting the request. Bucky dropped his head in defeat and pressed the button on the phone screen, sending the message to Steve and praying he would be there soon to get her out of there.

The doctor turned around, gesturing to the other agents. In less than a minute, the room was empty and they were alone for what would probably be their last moment together. Bucky made a step toward the woman, knowing whatever time they had it would never be enough, but before he could do anything she gathered all the strength she had left and slapped him across the face.

“I hate you!” She shouted, tears streaming down her face. “I hate you!”

He had expected her anger but her words still hurt him. He couldn’t begin to understand what she was feeling when his own heart was already being torn apart.

“I had to…”

“Why didn’t you fight ?” She choked. “Why … why did you gave up on us ?”

“I gave up on me!” He told her in a deep voice, quickly closing the distance between them and cupping her face with force. “I’m choosing you over me”

“There is no me without you, Bucky” She muttered

“They don’t know the Winter Soldier is no longer here” He told her, trying to reassure her. “Whatever they have plan for me, it’s not gonna work”

“You don’t know that”

He laid his forehead on hers and a tear on his own rolled down his cheek.

“I know I need you to stay alive. I’ve lived on borrowed time long enough, Y/N, maybe …”

“Don’t you dare!” She cried, pushing him away. She struggled to stay on her feet but she couldn’t seem to care. “I swear to god, Bucky, I will kill you myself if you dare giving up now!”

“Steve is gonna find you and bring you back” He continued.

She shook her head and her eyes grew hot, the tears welling so quickly it was impossible to blink them away.

“Please don’t break my heart” She whispered.

His lips started trembling and he choked on a small but audible sob. Losses after losses, he had shed his own shade of tears, had been broken beyond measure and brought to hell. This was something else. Pain had a sweet taste of horror and self-hatred when it was felt under the power of all his sanity.

“Let me hold you” He begged her.

Despite her anger, she didn’t waste any time and sank her face into his chest, letting him comfort both of them. He kept her close, looking down at her with gleaming eyes, wishing he never had to let go as he tightened his arms around her.

“I love you” He spoke right next to her ear. “Like I’ve never thought it was possible to love. You picked up every pieces of me you could find and glued them back together. You built the man I am today from scratch with your kindness, your resilience and your love. You gave me a second chance, and a second life by your side, and what a life it has been. You are my world, my soul, but most importantly, my home. You will always have me, doll.”

“Don’t say goodbye like that” She muttered, an aching wound opening deep in her chest as the tears kept falling.

“This isn’t goodbye, I’ll make damn sure of that. Wherever you are is where I am too. That’s the deal we made, right ? I’m with you till the end of the line”

“This is the end of our line” She forced up the words.

He raised her chin with a finger to look into her eyes and in that moment they kissed, together in each other's protective embrace.

“It will never be”

“Promise me you’ll give them hell”

“I promise I’ll fight with everything I have”

Tag list below the cut

@briannareneea985 - @bangtanxberm - @kissmyoops - @steve-is-daddy - @tylard-blog1 - @harprs - @animegirlgeeky

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes imagine #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier imagines #the winter soldier imagine #falcon and the winter soldier #Winter Soldier #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagines #fatws #tfatws

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levicanpunchme · 4 years ago

Text

Eren X Y/N

Genre: Angst/Fluff/Romance

TW: Violence/Murder/Mentions of suicide-Manga spoilers.

Summary: After the attack on Marley, your injured self desperately runs to Eren for answers and his response clarifies your doubts. You realise the end will never change and decide to free Eren-while in the process revealing your real identity.

Soulless

Your mind was numb. The pouring rain felt like rubber bullets piercing your skin and dropping to the ground in retribution. While your body was deadly nonreactive, your heart was so alive, bursting with vigour as it drummed against your chest. You wished the silence of the night would swallow you whole. You wished you were able to foresee that nothing would change; the tragedy would always recur.

Eren Jeager, the only hope left for humanity, bound to save this world from eradication-right?

The shrilling silence of the world weakened your limbs and you fell to the ground as sobs wracked your frame. Your hair was a wet disaster, clinging to your neckline, just the way Eren hated it. He liked it combed back into a neat ponytail. You instinctively grabbed your sticky strands, clutching them together and then you stopped. Your body shook with painful laughter. You were still thinking of him. Your body was still reacting to his likes and dislikes-even after you were confronted with the truth. Pathetic. How pathetic.

You dropped your hand and threw your head into your knees, the aggressive pain weighting down your chest. His laughs, his smiles, his sobs, his cries, his pain, his despair, his excitement, his liveliness playing before your eyes, clawing at your chest. You wanted to touch him. You wanted to shake him. What was he doing? You thought you were changing it. So, the bitter end to this sage was never going to change?

You realised that his bottling pain was going to unleash upon humanity and take everything down with it.

“She’s going to die this way!” You heard a familiar sharp voice cry in the distance. You pretended to ignore it because right now, your conscience didn’t want to hear answers your heart knew.

“Mikasa-bring her inside! This storm will take her away!” Despite your attempts, you identified Jean’s gruff voice and cowered into your lap further. The deafening thunder struck again and your pale body tucked itself deeper, hoping the earth could crush you easily.

A warm embrace cradling your body caused you to stir which made the dull pain in your knee worse as the numbness subsided. You hesitantly opened your eyes and were met with dead ones of Mikasa’s. She locked her arms under your knees and lunged you up, into her arms easily. You stared at the terrorising sky with sobs reaching the horizon.

When Mikasa had brought you into the safety of the farmhouse, all the soldiers circled around you as she placed your wet frame on the ground. You were curled into your body and your knee was bleeding profusely; it only occurred to you now that a bullet had hit you in the Battle against Marley. Your eyes wandered to your comrades who were staring at you, sympathetically, sadly. Someone was examining your wound and shouting for medical equipments.

“Hey Mikasa-” you don’t know why but you called out for her in a small frail voice. She was right beside you as she responded. “Eren. Where is he?” Your weak tone grew aggressive and everyone stared speechless.

“Dungeon,” the low tone of her response made your fury worse. You pushed away the hands attending to your injury and tried to stand up, but embarrassingly fell back.

“Hey-Y/n, now’s not the time! Stay still!” Connie yelled, his narrow eyes wider than usual. You shook your head and your body moved on its own accord, desperately crawling to the stairs. “Stop it! Stop being so stubborn-” Jean’s shouting went through one ear, out the other. Your palms were inflamed from before. As you pushed towards the stairway, you could feel the loose skin tearing from friction; however, there was a greater pain in your chest. You had to get to Eren before the pain burned you alive.

“She won’t stop until she meets him,” this time Captain Levi was the one to speak up and then you felt your body hoisted up onto his shoulder. You fought him for a minute by punching his back but halted when you realised he was actually carrying you downstairs, to the dungeons, to your Eren.

Your eyes narrowed, unaccustomed to the sudden darkness but impatiently opened them, desperate to see Eren. Captain Levi dropped you to the ground and announced casually. “Your lover’s here,” he monotonously said.

“I said no visitors.” Even before you could see him, you heard his threateningly low voice and your soul shook in fear of the reality.

“Shut up,” was the last thing Captain said and then he left.

You turned to the light, which was shining from the fire lamp inside the jail cell and your breathing ceased. Your heart almost lurched out your throat as your gaze met his. The green orbs once bustling with passion were dead-so bleak they made your heart throb. Dead was the once alive forest, dulled into eternity. Every question inside your mind was answered with that one glance. Someone had once told you that the eyes are a gateway to one’s soul which means... Eren was soulless.

“Why’re you here?” He whispered with a bothersome irk in his tone. He ran fingers through his black hair and glanced over at your small frame.

You then saw an emotion ignite in his orbs. He, who was standing five feet away from the cell’s door was suddenly right against it. His towering frame lowered and his orbs shook.

“Y-you got shot?” His voice cracked, his warm hand suddenly touching your face. He stared at your dislocated knee, his chest rose and fell harder and his hand touching you trembled. “Y-you, why’re you injured?” He rasped, his frown deepening as his cold demeanour melted. “I didn’t see this-I didn’t see you injured.” Did he imply that he didn’t see you hurt in the airship or in the future? Your head didn’t function.

Finally, you moved. You slid your hand into the cell’s bar and smacked his cheek hard, imprinting angry red inflammation on his face. He was visibly astounded, his pained eyes widening and then he stared at your hand and grabbed it. “Your palm—” his lip trembled as his gaze traced the skinned palm, red hot flesh brutally exposed to the air.

His lips softly grazed your palm and your toes curled out of love.

“Eren- why?” Your sob pierced through him and yet he didn’t so much so as move. He kept inspecting the wounds, pretending he didn’t hear your screaming.

“Get it checked. Right now,” his command was now monotonous, his eyes threateningly dark. He impatiently gazed back at you and you slapped him again, hard. The sound of your flesh hitting against his resounded within the confinement of the dungeon. This time, he didn’t even flinch.

He again turned his head to look at you. “Y/n, your knee is fucked up. Leave.” You stared at him like he were a crazed man. Your body shook as a cold wave struck your wet frame. You tried to not tuck yourself into your clothes as you daringly kept your gaze at him.

“Eren, you haven’t changed your mind yet?” You heard your voice tremble as your nose burned, tears clogging your vision. This seemed to catch Eren’s attention and his ears perked up, his eyes colder than ever, tracing every inch of you. He waited for you to continue your words but you stayed silent and his aggravation mounted.

“What?” He gruffly muttered. “I had to turn or else they’d never back down-”

“You didn’t have to turn when so many of innocent people were present! Why did you do this.” A guttering groan left his mouth as he watched you breakdown. “Weren’t we innocent? Weren’t our children innocent when they sent titans to invade the walls-?” His harsh tone grew horrid, his gaze unexpectedly dark.

“Do you think if our fucking walls were still intact, we’d be happier?” He rasped, standing up, away from you. You grabbed onto the cold bars and followed, painfully rising up on your feet. Your knee injury was so painful, you had to grit your teeth to avoid screaming.

“Eren—”

“Leave. I don’t want you to understand. I don’t want anyone to fucking understand.”

Your head was pounding, your blood turning cold. This was what you had feared all along. You felt your throat closing up, your breathing staggering as your mind started to convulse the new plan.

“Eren— have you ever wondered why you never saw me?” Eren turned to you, his gaze reflecting his confusion. “Why you never saw me in the past, present or future?”

Eren’s body grew cold.

He stared.

His pupils shook.

In a moment, Eren was against you, his pale face growing horrified as he stared into the soles of your eyes. His chest was heaving, his body shaking.

“H-how do you know?” His breathy whisper cascaded down your forehead and your lips trembled again, a cry leaving your mouth.

“I’m not a part of your world.” You said it simpler than it ever was-to be fair, it was true. You were never supposed to exist in this universe. You were never a part of this story. God knows what happened-when you were suddenly sucked up into this world of titans. Your transmigration left you speechless-dumb and confused. You were so horrified to even breathe when the world you had once seen on your television became a reality.

At first, you thought it was a dream but each passing day mocked your insolent thinking. This world was as real as the normal world: the world of attack of Titan.

Initially, your plan of action was to stay out of main character grounds and disconnect yourself from the plot line- so you tried to fail your training as a cadet. Like a slap to your face, each time you attempted to intentionally fail-your day restarted. After trying again and again, you had bared enough of Keith Shadis’s painful yelling and decided to properly train. As you progressed, you realised, you had to be part of the main plot line or else you’d never get to leave this world.

And soon- you were part of the survey corps. In the first few days of training, you kept your eyes glued to Eren. He was the main protagonist of the show and would end up destroying humanity for Paradis. The realisation that only you knew how the future would unfold gave you a feeling of superiority and power over everyone and you let the overconfidence get to your head. You questioned your role in this- were you supposed to stop the tragedy from unfolding? You decided against it-you didn’t care anyway. You just wanted to live till the end until you could leave.

When the female Titan (Annie) hunted for Eren, you sat back and watched. You remembered soon about the brutal deaths of the Levi squad. Despite knowing the tragic end, you stayed unfazed. And it happened— Eren trusted the Levi squad and didn’t turn until the very end- and they were massacred as if they were destined for it.

Their deaths didn’t hurt you because your mind was so busy thinking of everyone as just ‘characters of a show’ that it didn’t occur to you how awfully human everyone actually was. After that day, one night, you found Eren sitting outside on the patio, staring at the blank sky.

You joined his side since you didn’t feel like sleeping.

“Eren, why’re you here so late in the night?” You wondered, staring at the pale man before you. He didn’t look at you or answer you.

“Eren?” You muttered softly. He was faraway, you could tell.

“When this ends, I’ll never be able to live.”

Your eyes widened as you watched his lips twist into an agonising smile. “Why did I live to be the one?” His voice cracked and he stared at you.

“I don’t want this. I never wanted to do it, y/n.”

“I wish- I wish someone killed me before I could get hold of the founding. Every death I cause... every death I will cause... I won’t be able to atone it.”

“I don’t want to be that heinous monster.”

“Y/n, can you free me?” The longing in those orbs left your heart palpitating. Sadness and regret ceased your mind. Without thinking, you slammed your lips into his. You didn’t know where the emotion emerged from, but it overwhelmed you so much, you wanted to drink away every ounce of pain from Eren’s troubled mind. To your surprise, he kissed back desperately as if for a moment- he was not Eren Jaeger, the owner of the attack Titan, not the humanity’s hero-not a destructive weapon against the world, just Eren.

When the kiss ended, reality kicked in. Eren stared at you confusedly, doubtfully and then used his powers to eradicate the memories of what he had said to you and what you had done to him.

Little did Eren know, you were immune to his power.

And then you embarked on a journey with a new objective: you had to change the future or the end would be the same.

Your first mission was to expose Reiner and Berthrold before they could cause more trouble but it caused a malfunction-everything glitched and restarted. Your attempts went in vain. You tried and struggled but later realised that you could not change anything.

You tried time and time again to save Eren. At the airship, your desperation to save Sasha blinded you. You attempted to shut the door of the airship, but in the end, Gabbi still stalked her way inside. You attempted to shield Sasha but in the end, two bullets were fired, one at your knee and the other at Sasha.

There was nothing you could do.

In the end... you will lose Eren as a monster to this world.

“Eren— you told me to free you. You told me you wanted to be normal boy-away from war. You dreamt of a family. A family of your own.”

Eren’s heart was pounding, your words dull in his eardrum as the only sound he could hear was his heart. Everything he had said to you... while staring at the blue sky-every honest word he had told you- you remember. You remember it crystal clear.

All this time, he felt alone. He had so much to say- so much to tell his friends and yet he could only pathetically take away those memories. It destroyed him. To repeat the things again and again and wipe them away like he was messing around on a whiteboard. The turmoil raging inside his heart wanted to break free and destroy everyone. He was terrified.

And yet you remembered. You stuck to him every time he felt alone as he would empty his chest off its litter. He told you his selfish desires which he never even shared with his friends and you never struck him with shock. Your gaze remained honest and pure while looking at only him. You listened. You silently understood.

Then he would repeat the same cycle and erase those times.

How did the memories never leave you?

“Eren, I love you.”

It was the last thing you said to him as you stared into his watering eyes. Your sobs transgressed the earth, shattering pieces of your heart. With trembling hands, you pulled out the black rifle. Standing before him, your quivering hands held the gun at your lover’s forehead.

He stared at you. His lips curled up into a genuine smile which you’ll forever commit to memory, his eyes brimming with tears but never leaving your soul. He held your hand, caressing the skin. Without blinking, breathing, he kissed your callous skin one last time.

“Thank you.”

You pulled the trigger.

Screams ripped out your chest.

Someone yelled in the distance.

Someone held you down.

The last thing you saw was the splitting image of a green-eyed boy who once dreamt of freedom laying soulless on the red ground.

A/N: Please note that I never claim my writing is a solution to AOT. It’s not smart and may have plot holes. I just wanted Eren to leave the AOT world like a normal person-friend-lover and not a genocidal criminal. I really wanted to express this version of Eren Yeager.

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sopafa · 3 years ago

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PARAPLEGIC DOUXIE! AU P4

AO3 CH 4

All the windows on the Hospital's third floor cracked and exploded into a thousand pieces with a burst of blue light behind them. The rest of the building trembled to the beat of sobs and laments that echoed with anguish, within the hospital. Some of the hallways even stayed without lighting for a couple of seconds. The wails of sadness and desperation reminiscent of a ghost or a haunted mansion.

But there was no demon or monster on the inside.

Just a poor and broken soul with no relief.

A wizard that had misplaced liberty.

A boy that had lost everything.

Some of the personnel had to hold on to a piece of furniture or a wall due to the impact. Dr. Velasquez stepped back as the wave made him retreat.

But Dr. Lake-

She wrapped the wizard between her arms and cradled him against her chest into a hug.

Douxie didn't fight it.

Actually, Douxie did not move at all.

He let the woman move his hands around her neck and even allowed her to run her fingers through his hair. A soft and calming coo came through Barbara's lips in an attempt to calm him.

A few members of the hospital entered “alarmed” into the room; one even had a syringe in their hands with some sedative, just in case. But it was late, Ms. Lake had already taken charge of the situation, comforting the boy in her arms.

Douxie finally responded to the hug, grasping pieces of the doctor’s coat between his fingers. The wizard screamed and groaned until his lungs couldn't continue with more. He left sobs and regrets slip from his lips.

Even on the outside, people were able to hear him.

Claire's heart struggled when the wails reached her ears. Jim felt the tightness on his hands when Claire squeezed him.

It reminded her of "La llorona".

Douxie must have finally woken up.

=====

It was not the first time they had to rebuild Arcadia -and surely, it wouldn't be the last- so as always, the people of the town just ignored the fight among celestial demigods, trolls, or whatever-magic-being had attacked the city this time and focused on the getting back to their "normal" routine.

But, being honest, even when the buildings were raised again and looked barely new, it didn't feel the same. At least, not for the trollhunters team.

It was hard, spending a lot of time on the hospital, getting used to the flat white color of the walls, and the antibiotic-alcohol smell. It was just a lot.

Douxie was transferred from the ER to a rehabilitation center two days after he woke.

The new place was different. To say something.

The walls of the hallways among bedrooms were colored in beautiful pastel tones, each corridor was marked by a different color, there were playrooms, recreation rooms, a cafeteria, the exercise-rehabilitation gym, and even a pool for those that required aqua therapy -Douxie included- but even with the fancy installations and shiny colors, it still felt like some kind of hospital.

The uniforms were the same as the nurses from the hospital, and the way everyone talked to him made Douxie feel like an elder. An actual elder. It was as if the weight of his 920 years was finally having some effect on his body

Hisirdoux did not want to talk, he didn't even take the trouble to respond to the greetings of his personal nurses, that each morning asked him how he was feeling, and what he wanted for breakfast. He just stayed there, frowning with his crossing arms. He also looked away when they tried to convince him to eat something.

He didn't even talk to the team.

It was becoming tedious. They tried to visit him every day, but he didn't even looked at them. The moment they crossed through the door, he rolled his eyes and looked away, he would turn in the bed to face his back to them, but well... he couldn't move. At least, not yet without help.

And that was ever more frustrating.

That day his hope was on the floor, and he had absolutely no patience to hear the team again, so without even moving his hand, or pronouncing a single word, he casted a spell. The pillows on the sofa near his bed brightened in a strong blue, before flying into the faces of the kids that had just entered to the room.

"Dude" Steve screamed while the pillows forced him all the way out.

"Douxie-" Claire tried to hold on the door, but before she could put a foot back in the room again, the soap and shampoo of the bathroom rushed flying to her forehead. 10 points, straight to the witch’s white hair, or at least that would have been if she hadn't opened a shadow portal just in time to avoid the hit.

"Hey!" Jim turned to him, seconds before the door smacked right on his face. Lake stepped back almost losing balance. They heard a click, and then the entrance was closed. "Are you okay?" Jim looked at Claire.

Aja crossed her arms while Claire nodded to her boyfriend.

"So mean-"

"It’s not the first time" A nurse said from behind them. The black lady pointed at the wall behind them, and they were able to see a few marks of- What was that? "He likes throwing cleaning stuff at the wall- and us. We are actually considering removing his privilege of own personal cleaning products. Maybe we will use liquid soap. But yet, he keeps playing with the bottles Your friend is not very talkative, is he?".

Actually, he was.

The lady made a gesture with the hand to ask Jim to move away. The trollhunter did so, and the woman walked to the door.

"Uh- Miss? I think it’s-" Toby did not finish his warning about the closed door, the lady instead took out a set of keys from her pocket, and introduced it to the latch. She opened the door.

"We have already talked about this, Casperan. You can't keep throwing stuff on the ceiling." Her authoritative tone made the rest uncomfortable. "Maybe you should go". The lady turned to them with a sweet tone and a warm smile "He's kind of moody today- and he does not like visits when he's moody" Another floating soap was thrown to the wall. "Hey! Stop it! Right now!" She glared at the wizard, while the rest followed her advice, and left.

Another bad day.

"So- what made you so angry today, hu?" Sabrina -that was her name- saved the keys while approaching him. "Aw, man. You didn't even touch your breakfast again."

Hisirdoux snorted.

"Maybe you'll finally eat something at the noon" She smiled, but as always, got no answer. "Are you ready to turn around?" Sabrina took a pillow from the closet and left it on the bed.

The lady looked at the cat a few feet from her, and slowly smiled.

"This is not going to be comfortable" She warned -but Archie didn't knew if it was directed to him or Douxie-.

Then, she rotated the wizard to his side, before positioning the pillow behind his back to keep him from rolling back. She then grabbed another pillow and placed it between the boy's legs. Douxie groaned.

"I told you it was not going to be comfortable"

"It never is," he mumbled a little.

"What was that? You finally speak? OMG, I was afraid that you were mute. Thanks the lord," she joked. "Well, Mr. Grumpy man, I'm going to comeback in a few hours to roll you back."

"Whatever."

Archie looked at her from behind Hisirdoux, and mouthed a "Thank you" to her. The familiar knew his human could be hard sometimes, especially since the news. But Archie couldn't do anything but stay by his side, even when he was acting like a child, throwing things at everyone else.

Yeah, it was not correct, and that was not the manners that he had taught Douxie, but Archie refrained from commenting, and that nurse kept being sweet with them even with that attitude because both saw what nobody else did.

When the visiting hours end and the light from the hallways was reduced, during the silent and cold nights, Hisirdoux talks.

Maybe he did not show emotion through the day, but when nobody is watching but Archie, he lets them run until the breaking point. Each night, Douxie cried his soul. He cursed and swore with words, while fat tears rolls from his eyes. He forced the wails to stay inside his chest, but inevitably some sobs came out.

Archie is always awake, always on his side, purring to his chest.

Sabrina -the nurse- one night heard him cry. She didn't say anything, but stayed outside his room for hours, listening to each of the wizard’s words. The way he prayed among tears for help, for someone to save him from the suffering, from the pain. He begged for Archie's forgiveness because he didn't think himself strong enough to continue living, to survive the fear. Each time he closed his eyes he remembered the fall, the feeling of his life leaving his body, and he couldn't hold on for much longer. He wanted to throw the towel, he wanted to die. So he begged Archie to forgive him because he was going to leave him because he was not strong enough.

He was not.

#douxie #he just wants to make his dad proud #toa hisirdoux #hisirdoux casperan #archie #trollhunters #jim lake jr #toa #wizards toa #rise of the titans #toa wizards #post rott #remember the p2 of the fic that im writing #angst #injury #back injury #wheelchair #depression

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wrenhyperfixates · 4 years ago

Text

Pretty Venom

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Loki pulls away from you, leaving you hurt and feeling alone. Perhaps an emotional confrontation is just what you need to get him to tell you how he really feels. Warnings: very angsty; maybe a little bit if fluff too, I guess?; bit of implied smut at the end; a curse word I think A/N: Based on one of my favorite songs ever, Pretty Venom by All Time Low. Enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

You didn’t get it. It made absolutely no sense. For the past twenty-four hours, you’d been running through Loki’s words in your head, your mind like a broken record.

“I believe it best that we have some distance,” he’d said.

“What do you mean?” you asked, voice and body shaking with emotion.

“I mean exactly that. I do not want to see you anymore, so if you will excuse me, I must take my leave.”

You were too shocked to do anything more than shout his name. Even your feet had forgotten how to move. Now you were laying in your bed, staring at your ceiling and trying to figure out what had happened. You were going through denial, even though you’d sensed something had been amiss for a while. At the time, you’d elected to ignore it, a decision you feared you’d end up regretting for the rest of your life. Suddenly, the answer hit you and everything became clear. Loki had been acting weird ever since you’d told Wanda that you like him. He must have overheard and not felt the same way, ending with him pulling away from your friendship.

As a new round of tears began to roll down your cheeks, there was a knock at your door. For a second you dared to hope it was Loki come to make amends, but were slightly disappointed when it was Wanda instead.

“Come on,” your friend said from behind the thick wood. “You can’t hide in there forever. Tell me what happened.”

“I’d rather stay in here, thanks.”

“You sound insane, you know. Whatever it is, I’m sure we can work through it together. You at very least should eat something.”

“Thanks again, but I’d rather rot.”

She used her magic to open the door, very concerned for you after your latest declaration. As she came to your side, you began to think back on your time with Loki. Throughout your whole history, he’d never been anything less than absolutely sweet and caring toward you. He’d always told you that from the second he first saw you, he could tell you were kindred spirits. It was from that moment on, he’d confessed, that he wanted to protect you, no matter the cost, and you’d been practically attached at the hip ever since. The momentary warmth that the memory brought you was quickly replaced with a cold feeling of loneliness, realizing that he no longer felt that way. It was sad, you thought, that all your happiest memories should bring you pain.

“Whatever happened, it’s going to be alright. I promise,” Wanda comforted, coming to sit next to you on the bed and give you a hug. Her worry was plainly written on her face. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“It’s Loki,” you finally admitted, sobbing into her shoulder. “He said he doesn’t want to see me anymore, and he didn’t say why. It’s probably because I love him, but he hates me.”

“That’s awful! It’s ok, you don’t need him, anyway. I’m right here, and you know that the rest of us will be, too.”

Even if you were upset with Loki, you didn’t want everyone in the Tower turning against him, and you told Wanda as much. After everything you’d been through with Loki, you knew he’d sunk his teeth into you. You just didn’t realize how much it hurt until he pulled away. Now it seemed you’d been deluding yourself by thinking he cared about you as you did him. You couldn’t even fathom feeling the same way about anyone else, much less anyone besides Loki feeling that way about you.

“I just don’t understand how he could say such a thing. Was he just fucking with me the whole time?” you asked Wanda, though you did not expect her to have the answer. “Was anything he said true?”

“I don’t know, but either way, he played with your heart. You shouldn’t give him another thought.”

A part of you knew that she was right and desperately wanted to pick yourself up from this pit of despair, but it seemed impossible. You spent the next week feeling just as glum as you had that day. Though, you had been able to get out of your bed and Wanda had convinced you to eat. Just as you had asked, she told no one what had happened, but most of them had figured out the story due to your sullen mood and the trickster god’s sudden disappearance from the common areas.

You were aware it was bad to continue living your life in such a sad state as you were in, but you were certain that Loki knew that he hurt you and done nothing to fix it. Your thoughts kept running around in your head, and they always ended at the same spot; how could he do this to you?

Feeling utterly trapped in the Tower, afraid you’d run into Loki around every turn, Wanda took you out for a day out in the city. Little did she know, Thor had done the exact same thing for his brother. Out of all the places either of you could have been, somehow you managed to be at exactly the same street corner. You tried to run away without letting him see you, but his eyes found you before you could fight through the throng of people. As if you were rats trapped in a maze, you ran into each other a number of other times that day. It was ironic that you’d managed to avoid each other for weeks in the Tower, but when you finally went out, you couldn’t stop spotting each other. Seeing your distress, Wanda gave up on your plans and brought you back home.

It hurt you to know that even if you were to go talk to him and try to be his friend again, it would never be quite the same. Maybe it could come close, at least. Anyway, you missed him, felt like you needed him to live. He was like a pretty venom: dangerous, but you couldn’t help but want to get close.

“Loki,” you called through his door later that day. “I just want to talk.”

No response. You’d spent hours in front of your bathroom mirror figuring out all the ways you could say what you wanted to. There was a surprising amount of ways to do it, and you hadn’t quite chosen one. Waiting any longer sounded like agony, though, so you’d marched down the hall to his room.

“Listen, I know why you pushed me away,” you continued when you were met with nothing but silence. “But I also know in my heart that you couldn’t have really wanted to do that. Not after everything you’ve ever said. And honestly, Loki, I just want my best friend back.”

“What reason, exactly, do you think I have pushed you away for?” he asked in a small, pained voice.

He cracked the door open so one of his striking eyes could meet yours. Even through the sliver of space, you could see he was a disheveled mess. A far cry from what he’d looked like out on the city streets earlier, that put together look being the one you were used to.

“Because,” you mumbled, looking at the floor, “you heard me tell Wanda how I feel about you and you don’t feel the same.”

“Is that truly what you think, mortal?” Loki shouted, wrenching the door open the rest of the way. “How foolish I was to think you cared.”

“How dare you!” you screamed back, putting out a hand to stop the door before Loki could slam it shut. You saved the satisfaction of doing that for yourself after following him into his quarters. “You’re the one who didn’t care about me. You’re the one who took back everything you’d ever said. And you’re the one who’s been messing with me from the start.”

This was definitely not how you hoped the conversation would go, but his outburst was pulling all these bottled up emotions out of you. Your heart was the one that had been under constant attack from sadness and loneliness since he’d cast you aside. It hadn’t occurred to you that he might be feeling the same way until he spoke again.

“Do you know how hard it has been to stay away, darling?” he coldly said, his venomous voice now quiet and somehow even more frightening. Even the pet name sounded menacing in his current tone. “Do you know how pained I’ve been keeping away from you? Or how my thoughts have been going in circles since that day? No, I suppose you do not know. Then again, perhaps that is my fault, after all.”

The whole time he was speaking, he approached you, and by now your back was against the wall, his hands pressed against it on either side of your head. Had it been anyone else, you would have felt threatened, but even in his anger you trusted that Loki would never hurt you. Not physically, at least.

“Then why, Loki? Why did you do that to me? To us?” you asked, your voice now soft too. You pressed a hand to the thin material of his shirt, over his heart, which was beating almost as rapidly as yours. “Why?”

“Because,” he said, swallowing thickly, his eyes full of sorrow. “I am dangerous for you. I did hear your conversation, yes, but I did not pull away because I do not reciprocate. It is because I could never be the person you need me to be.”

“But Loki, you already are.”

His arms dropped then, but before he could turn away or say anything else, you pulled him in for a kiss. It didn’t last long as he didn’t kiss you back, and you pulled away in embarrassment, fearing you’d misunderstood what he’d said.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologized, retreating towards the door. “I shouldn’t have-”

The rest of your sentence was cut off by Loki crashing his lips onto yours. His kiss was filled with just as much passion and desire as yours was. This time it was even better because you weren’t as shocked as he had been, meaning you were able to return it. His hands trailed down your side and came to rest on your waist while yours tangled themselves into his hair, pulling his mouth impossibly closer to yours. You don’t know how long you were standing there like that, mouths sloppily slanted against each other, but it would never be enough. When you did have to pull away for air, his hand gently caressed your cheek, and he kissed your forehead as he gathered his thoughts.

“May I take back what I said again?”

“Only if by that you mean you’re done punishing yourself and are ready to do this again,” you said, pulling his bottom lip between your teeth after a much shorter, but still lustful, kiss.

“I still do not believe I am worthy of you,” he confessed, “and I may never think that I am. But I cannot continue to hurt you this way. So, yes, I want to be with you, if you will still allow it.”

“I suppose I’ll accept that for now. But I swear one day, Loki Laufeyson, I will make you see just how worthy you are.”

“Whatever you say, darling.”

Then he kissed you again, carrying you to his bed where you would spend the rest of the night making good on your promise.

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ruzek-halstead · 4 years ago

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get me with those green eyes, baby

julie is unsure how to tell luke how she feels; she isn't sure if she can. so she does what she does best; she writes luke a song. why tell him if she can just sing it to him?

masterlist

Julie would be lying if she said every song she'd ever written since meeting Luke hadn't been about him.

Because they have. Every last one.

When unknown feelings started bubbling deep within her chest the more time she spent with Luke, she had to let them out somewhere. While she was never the type to keep things bottled up, she didn't necessarily enjoy spilling her guts (unless it was to Flynn). So, she opted for writing down her feelings. That usually ended up in lyrics and it wasn't like she could just show them to Luke because the boy was curious beyond belief and he would hound her until he knew exactly who it was about.

So, she locked everything in her dream box.

And yes, the boys were known to be a tad bit snoopy and go through her things, including the dream box. So, when Julie started locking up her deeply personal (borderline romantic) lyrics, she made it explicitly clear they were to go absolutely nowhere near her box.

She was mostly directing her words at Luke, who actively avoided eye contact while suppressing a smirk.

And they were respectful, she never had any further issues that she knew of; so, she continued writing.

It was only when they were faced with the choices of being stuck in the Hollywood Ghost Club forever or crossing over that she realized she wouldn't ever have to worry about Luke snooping through her personal things again.

He wouldn't be able to. He'd be gone.

So, Julie wondered: did she risk letting him go forever without telling him how she felt? Or tell him anyway but still risk him disappearing?

It was a tough choice that kept Julie reeling, but she found she didn't have much time in between. She didn't care that she would lose them when they crossed over; she would do what she could to ensure that they did.

With all the chaos, she didn't get the chance to talk to Luke, other than a quick moment to make sure he thanked her mom for bringing them to her when he saw her.

The tension was palpable and his gaze was intense. She was perfectly aware of Alex and Reggie only a few feet away, diligently pretending not to be listening but they both knew they were.

It wasn't the time or place for what Julie truly wanted to say, so she swallowed the words.

She didn't get another chance after that.

When they disappeared after their final bow, the pain was gutting. She continued to smile because this was a huge moment for her, for all of them, but they were gone. She thought she was ready, that she had mentally and emotionally prepared herself for their absence.

But nothing could prepare her for the immediate loneliness.

She wanted to be happy for them, and she was, deep down. But she had already suffered so much loss in her life, and this was only adding to it.

When she spotted them in the garage, tear-stained and in excruciating pain, all her emotions were overridden. All she could think about was saving them, no matter the cost, no matter the consequences. The desperation clawed at her throat; she couldn't bear seeing them in this much pain.

But then Luke delivered those few words: No music is worth making, Julie, if we're not making it with you.

She regretted not sharing her feelings but she was confident had an inkling of a clue. Even if she never explicitly said the words, he knew.

So, when she threw herself into his arms, she wasn't even thinking about the fact that he was air and she would most likely slam right into the wall instead. When she collided into his toned chest, she drowned in the moment, hardly even realizing that this shouldn't be possible.

But then she felt it.

She felt the softness of his suit beneath her fingers; she felt his hot breath fanning across her neck; and she felt his arms squeeze tighter around her waist.

Julie felt him.

It was impossible, they weren't sure how to explain it. Julie gazed at Luke's awestruck expression, tears leaking from his emerald eyes. And then he was somehow feeling better; her touch made him feel better and she wasn't sure how to feel about it. All she knew was that she had to try, so she quickly gathered Alex and Reggie as well and in awe, they watched as their Hollywood Ghost Club tattoos disappeared.

They did it.

The boys were free from Caleb and they still hadn't crossed over. Julie didn't have to give them up yet.

Of course, life continued to go on afterwards. The band was more popular than ever and Flynn was busy booking them gig after gig after gig. Not that they minded; it was exactly what they wanted to do in the first place. But the pressing thought never left them.

How long was this going to last?

It killed Julie to go on everyday, knowing that one day, she could walk into the studio, ready to rehearse and they could just be gone forever. It was one thing knowing, like how she knew last time. She was somewhat adequately prepared, but this time, it could happen at any time and she was far too attached now.

Julie knew she shouldn't bottle her feelings like she did last time. She had no idea when her last opportunity would be.

And Luke made her happy. He made her so happy.

One day she would be talking herself up, then the next she would be shutting down. She wasn't sure what to do, how to handle her feelings. Sometimes Luke could be so sickeningly sweet and the words were on the tip of her tongue but then he would do something so stupid or annoying that left her wanting to commit murder.

It was exhausting.

But then, one Saturday morning, Julie woke up with a fierce sense of determination and she thought: this is the day.

She wasn't sure where the surge of confidence came from, but she wasn't going to question it for fear that she would chicken out. Instead, she got herself ready for the day and dug through her dream box to pick out one of her most recently written songs.

Julie still wasn't sure how to verbally tell Luke how she felt; she wasn't sure if she could.

But why tell him when she could just sing it to him?

Julie marched down to the garage, mumbling a quick hello to her dad and Carlos who were making breakfast. Of course, the boys were glued to their instruments, most likely creating a new melody for a song Luke was working on.

"Jules, hey!" Luke greeted excitedly, his green eyes sparkling.

Julie scowled. He shouldn't be allowed to look at her like that.

"Alex, Reggie, do you guys mind going somewhere else? I need to talk to Luke."

Julie didn't mean for her words to sound so ominous; so much so that Alex and Reggie shot curious eyes to Luke, no doubt wondering what he did now. But she was a woman on a mission and she didn't have time to waste. Any time wasted was just her getting closer to backing out.

"Sure," Reggie drawled slowly. His eyes shot back and forth between Julie, with her lips pursed and hands on her hips and Luke, who frankly looked quite scared. Reggie and Alex poofed out, only muttering a quick good luck to Luke.

Immediately, Luke started rambling.

"Whatever I did, I'm so sorry. I'm an idiot, you know this, I'm—"

Julie shook her head. "Shut up."

But for some reason, he kept talking and Julie huffed in frustration.

Julie stepped across the studio, stopped right in front of Luke and his words died on his tongue. She reached for his guitar and pulled the strap from around him, placing it back on its stand.

Luke was more confused than ever.

Julie grabbed his biceps and pushed him back towards a stool. "Sit," she demanded.

"Julie, what's going on?"

"Please, just stop talking."

Julie made her way to the piano, sitting down on the bench and letting her fingers rest on the keys. It brought her some comfort for what she was about to do. Her eyes glanced up towards Luke, who was biting his lip nervously.

"I don't know how to tell you this, so I'm just going to sing it."

"Julie—"

"Luke, please," she breathed quietly and his eyes snapped to hers sympathetically. "Just listen."

Luke nodded in response. Julie could see his inability to sit still for long kick in as his knee started bouncing up and down quickly. She noticed his green eyes darting nervously between the piano and her face; the entire situation was much too anxious for him to handle.

"I wrote you a song."

Before Julie could adequately appreciate the way Luke's jaw fell open, she took a deep breath and allowed the music to consume her. She'd been going over these lyrics for weeks now; they were the truest words she'd never spoken, straight from the heart because of some ghost she'd tried so hard to hate in the beginning.

Julie was completely terrified.

But she couldn't continue on not living to the fullest. It wasn't fair to her and if by some off chance Luke felt the same way and wanted to pursue this, it wasn't fair to him either.

the way you move is like a full on rainstorm

and i'm a house of cards

you're the kind of reckless that should send me running

but i kinda know that i won't get far

His approach could be so aggressive, so eager to get things done, that sometimes he bulldozed over everything in his way. It was an effective way to get things done, but Julie always appreciated the process. Ever since they first met, he gave off a troublemaker type of vibe. Mooning Trevor Wilson always came into mind, but Luke was also the first to help her sneak out of her house using her bedroom window. It's not like the idea never crossed her mind, but before she met the boys, she never really had a reason to.

Luke changed a lot of things for her.

and you stood there in front of me just

close enough to touch

close enough to hope you couldn't see

what i was thinking of

It truly never bothered her in the beginning that they couldn't touch. They were friends, bandmates, nothing more. But then he let her into his brilliant mind and as soon as they started writing together, everything started changing. Julie didn't want anything to change, she knew it would only complicate things, but she couldn't help it.

And then Perfect Harmony happened, and her mind so vividly showed her what it could feel like and ever since, she couldn't get rid of the urge to feel his soft skin under her fingertips.

After visiting his parents and their talk on her porch, it seemed like he knew what she was thinking. He seemed to want it too, if his actions were anything to go by, but it couldn't happen. It left her feeling a tad awkward, but as soon as she got into her house, she made a beeline for her bedroom and poured her thoughts and feelings into a new song about Luke.

drop everything now

meet me in the pouring rain

kiss me on the sidewalk

take away the pain

'cause i see sparks fly whenever you smile

When she wrote this chorus, she was on a high after their Edge of Great performance.

It was nothing that could ever happen, but it was everything she imagined in her wildest dreams.

Every girl at her age had the kiss in the rain fantasy. Julie's really was a fantasy because every time she looked at him, it was just a cruel reminder of everything that couldn't be. But she yearned for it; for everything to change, for him to help ease her pain, for him to surprise the hell out of her one day by grabbing onto her waist and ceasing her many questions with his lips.

get me with those green eyes, baby

as the lights go down

give me something that'll haunt me when you're not around

'cause i see sparks fly whenever you smile

His eyes were so captivating, Julie couldn't help but to mention them in every song she wrote. He knew exactly how to use them against her to get what he wanted and Julie was as weak to their power as anyone else. Sure, she put up a front; she had to, she was the boss, but his gaze truly made her weak in the knees. She dreamt of his eyes when she closed hers at night; she couldn't escape them even in her dreams.

The entire reason she was finally sharing this song with him in the first place was because the chances that he could disappear without warning were too high and risky. Julie knew that was a possibility, but her feelings for him were too strong to ignore. She wanted him and she wanted to be left with memories of what they could be together, because one day, when he wasn't around anymore, Julie could think back to all they shared together.

my mind forgets to remind me, you're a bad idea

you touch me once and it's really something

you find i'm even better than you imagined i would be

Oh God, she knew. She knew she and Luke could be so unbelievably destructive. There were so many things against them; she knew it was a bad idea. And she actually attempted to entertain those ideas, for the sake of Flynn and her own protection, but she couldn't anymore. Depriving herself of what she really wanted wasn't healthy and eventually she stopped trying to fight it.

She stopped trying to fight it the night of their Orpheum performance. When she felt Luke's arms around her, physically squeezing her as tightly as his muscles could manage, it changed everything. For better or for worse, she was completely invested now. Not just in Luke, but in all of the boys; they were family.

i'm on my guard for the rest of the world

but with you, i know it's no good

and i could wait patiently

but i really wish you would

Before the boys came into her life, Julie was on the edge. She was about to give up music, even though she loved music with her entire being. She just didn't have it in herself anymore; her muse was gone and she didn't want to share her music in a world where her mother couldn't witness it.

But then these three, random, cute, dorky boys showed up in her garage one day, claiming it was their studio and slowly, they wormed themselves into her heart. Julie didn't want to let them in right away, and she made that quite clear with her cold exterior. But then Luke just had to follow her out, pleading his case with the softest eyes and easily pulling at her heartstrings.

Julie felt her guard start to drop right there and then, and the more time she spent with those dorky boys, the less control she had. She quickly discovered there was no point in holding back around the boys. For teenage boys, they were highly perceptive to her emotions and when she wasn't being whole.

Every time Luke pulled her aside, using his words and his unbelievably intense eyes because he couldn't touch her, Julie felt her walls start to crumble. There was no reason to be anything but herself when she was with Luke; she felt it in her bones, their connection was unmatched.

drop everything now

meet me in the pouring rain

kiss me on the sidewalk

take away the pain

'cause i see sparks fly whenever you smile

Julie would be lying if she said she hadn't fantasized about her first kiss with Luke since he became corporeal.

How could she not?

She'd been thinking about him differently ever since her uncontrollable daydreams, but it was only ever in her mind; it could never happen in real life. And then all of a sudden, it could happen, but it was still beyond her wildest thoughts.

Sometimes she found herself with an urge at the worst of moments. Luke playing the melody he created for their latest lyrics and Julie should've been focusing on the music, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from his lips. Or throughout any of their live performances, when they shared a single microphone because the fans seemed to love it (among others). They were so close together, Julie was genuinely afraid she would forget the lyrics because all she could think about was Luke and how much she needed him.

And then he'd flash his charming grin before pulling some ridiculously attractive guitar trick and Julie was once again left floundering.

get me with those green eyes, baby

as the lights go down

give me something that'll haunt me when you're not around

'cause i see sparks fly whenever you smile

Julie didn't want Luke to disappear.

She knew that more than ever now. She had prepared herself once, and she doesn't think she can do it again; it was far too painful.

But she knew, one day, their time would come. They'd have completed their unfinished business and they'd get the opportunity to move onto a better place. And she knew, they might not be around all the time, but they'd be watching. And she knew, when she closed her eyes at night, she would dream of Luke's smile and every emotion it brought to her soul.

i run my fingers through your hair

and watch the lights go wild

just keep on keeping your eyes on me

it's just wrong enough to make it feel right

and lead me up the staircase

won't you whisper, soft and slow

i'm captivated by you baby like a firework show

One thing Julie could commend was that touch came quite easily after everything changed. It happened subtly, with slow touches on the piano bench, then gentle touches on the small of Julie's back. Eventually, it progressed.

Julie realized, accidentally, that Luke loved getting his scalp scratched. She had collapsed against her headboard one late night, and Luke liked to check-in on her when she stayed up late doing school work. Upon spotting her exhausted eyes, he plopped down next to her, dropping his head in her lap. Julie was far too tired to protest or even consider the ramifications, but somehow her hand made its way to his brown locks. She played gently with his hair, fingernails scraping against his scalp.

It was only for a second, and she quickly pulled away to grab her textbook. A low groan ripped through Luke's throat and he blindly reached up to grab her hand and pull it back to the crown of his head. It became their thing after that.

When Julie wrote the bridge of the song, she was high off energy from their latest show after they performed their brand new song. Their performance was electric as usual; it ended with Julie laughing, opening her eyes to find Luke staring at her in adoration.

She didn't even think about it when she threw her arms around his neck in a celebratory hug.

Even when they pulled away from each other and the crowd was still cheering, Alex and Reggie somewhere on the stage around them, she couldn't focus on anything except his bright smile.

Luke quite literally captivated her with every little thing he did.

She thought for a moment: this might be it, maybe he'll finally kiss me. But truth be told, Julie was glad he didn't. If it was going to happen, she didn't want it to be there, in front of hundreds of people. She wanted a private moment, just between her and Luke; that was all she needed.

drop everything now

meet me in the pouring rain

kiss me on the sidewalk

take away the pain

'cause i see sparks fly whenever you smile

Julie was coming to the end of the song now and she hadn't dared to look and see Luke's reaction. She wasn't sure she could handle any rejection should it come, but she knew she couldn't hold in her feelings anymore either.

Regardless of the result, Julie was still proud of herself. She put herself out there in a way she'd never done before and it was a big step in building her confidence.

get me with those green eyes, baby

as the lights go down

give me something that'll haunt you when you're not around

'cause i see sparks fly whenever you smile

Julie rounded off the song with the last few keys on the piano, taking a slow, deep breath when her fingers ceased moving.

She didn't want to look up, didn't want to see his reaction for fear of what she might see. Luke was always very expressive; even when he didn't know exactly what to say, he would ramble on until he eventually figured it out.

But this was different.

Julie was actually trying to tell him something, trying to tell him exactly how she felt in the best way she knew how; songwriting and singing. She paled for a moment; what if he didn't even understand what she was trying to say?

"Julie."

His voice seemed amused, and her eyes immediately snapped up to meet his.

Luke was now standing in front of the stool, unabashedly holding a smile that caused her to let out a large sigh of relief. Her hands automatically flew up to cover her face in mortification.

Stick to your guns, Jules.

But she couldn't. She felt like she was going to melt into a puddle.

Julie heard Luke approach and slide onto the piano in front of her. "Julie," he laughed, and she didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing. "Can you look at me?"

Before Julie could begrudgingly pull her hands away from her face, his hands reached down to circle around her wrists and pull gently. His eyes were soft, scanning her rosy cheeks and glassy eyes. She knew she shouldn't be crying, there was absolutely no need to, but her emotions were running high and this was a really huge move for her.

Julie hesitantly met his eyes. His hands stayed cuffed around her wrists, now resting in his lap. "Jules, that was beautiful. What's wrong?"

"I'm mildly mortified," Julie replied honestly, eyes dropping to the brand new guitar pick necklace Willie had given him (one for each of the boys and a new bracelet for Julie).

"Why?"

Julie's eyes snapped back up to glare at him. "Because I just basically spilled my guts out to you in the best way I know how and you haven't said anything!"

Luke didn't look phased at her change in attitude or the frustration she was throwing his way. He always knew the best way to handle her; talk her down when she needed it, or give her a reality check when she was too in her head (she'd be sure to do the same).

Instead, his hand moved to angle her chin so she couldn't avoid his gaze anymore. "Because I wanted you to look at me when I told you."

"Told me what?"

"That I love your song," Luke said softly, fingers reaching up to caress her cheek. Julie struggled to maintain eye contact when he looked at her like she had stars in her eyes and he said things like that. "And I think I've known for a while, but you know me. I'm not good at dealing with feelings."

Julie leaned into his touch. He wasn't exactly being clear, but it was Luke, so she wasn't exactly surprised.

He blinked, rubbing the back of his neck as he chuckled nervously. "Jules, I think I might be in love with you."

Julie's eyes softened, chest constricting with a multitude of emotions. Now it was Luke who was actively avoiding meeting her eyes, though he still couldn't find it in himself to stop talking.

"Not that I really know what it means. I've never been in love, but I think it's what I feel," he rambled on. "You came into my life when I really needed it. I'm better because of you; you make me better, Julie."

Julie decided it was about time she took hold of the reins again. After all, this was her idea all along. She placed her hands on either side of his face, breaking free from his hold. She pulled his face down, meeting him halfway. Julie hesitated, giving him the chance to pull back if he wanted to, but he really didn't want to.

Luke closed the rest of the distance between them, gently pressing his lips against Julie's. It was soft and simple and over way too soon, but Luke didn't want to push it.

He most definitely had just confessed his love for her and the reality was starting to hit him hard.

So, he made a joke.

"I'm sorry our first kiss wasn't on the sidewalk in the pouring rain."

A reference to her song. The push they needed.

And even though awkwardness was starting to creep up on Luke, a smirk slid its way onto Julie's lips.

"Don't worry; we'll have time for that."

Before Luke's lips could appreciate the grin he wore, Julie reeled him back in, pressing her lips firmly to his once again. Her hands found his way to his neck, slipping into his hair and scratching his scalp just the way he liked it. Luke let out a groan, unwillingly pulling away from her.

"Julie, if you don't stop, I may pass out from cardiac arrest," he mumbled, trying and failing to control his breathing.

Julie let out a short laugh. She started her day with so much confidence and it slowly swindled into uncertainty, but it all worked out. She just needed to trust herself, her feelings and Luke.

"By the way," Julie added, resting her elbows on his knees as she looked up at him in adoration, "I think I'm in love with you too."

Luke would never push her, but he couldn't lie and say he wasn't itching to hear the words. Everything she said in the song sent him into overdrive, but nothing compared to hearing her say it like that.

"Why don't we go write a song about it?"

"Good idea. I'm feeling especially inspired at the moment."

Luke leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to Julie's nose. She scrunched her nose adorably in response.

"Me too, Jules."

i don't really have a taglist anymore (old one is outdated) and i never know who to tag so pls let me know if you want tags for any of my future fics :)

#fics #julie and the phantoms #jatp #juke #luke patterson #julie molina #alex mercer #reggie peters #jatp fic #juke fic #jatp fics #juke fics #luke x julie #julie x luke #old school t-swift serving us with the juke vibes

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