#but it's not bad angst i promise

[leiawritesstories]

Next Thing You Know, part 1

inspired by the song "Next Thing You Know" by Jordan Davis

turns out, this fic got a little out of hand and took on a life of its own, so i'll be splitting it into probably two parts.

Word count: ~8.2k

Warnings: little bit of language, references to abuse in foster care, depictions of a car accident, minor character death, little bit of angst but otherwise it's pretty much all fluff

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was eight years old when the moving truck pulled into the driveway of the house across from hers. 

The house had been empty for almost a year since the sweet older couple who’d lived there for decades had moved away to be closer to their children. When she was very little, Aelin had often spent time with Sam and Philippa, the couple who’d lived there, since both of her parents worked full time and she had to have somewhere to go after preschool. Philippa was very much like a grandmother to her, and she’d grown to love the older couple’s cozy house. After they moved away, though, Aelin had to come home after school, but she was old enough to stay home by herself for a little while until her mom or dad came back from work. 

So when the “For Sale” sign in front of the house changed to “Sold,” she could hardly contain her excitement at getting new neighbors. And when the silvery-haired couple climbed out of the SUV that parked next to the house, she all but pressed her nose to the window of her living room, eagerly waiting to see if the new neighbors were going to be like Philippa and Sam. 

To her surprise, despite their silvery hair, Mr. and Mrs. Whitethorn were only about her parents’ age. And they had a son who was a year older than her. 

His name was Rowan Whitethorn. 

Aelin and her parents went across the street that evening to say hello to their new neighbors, bringing a small welcome basket with them. She found herself a little bashful and stood close to her dad’s side as he knocked politely on the door. 

Mrs. Whitethorn opened the front door a moment later. “Hello!” 

“Hello,” Evalin grinned. “I’m Evalin Ashryver.”

“Enna Whitethorn.”  

“Rhoe Galathynius,” Rhoe introduced himself, offering his hand. “This is our daughter, Aelin.” 

“We’re across the street from you,” Evalin explained, “and we just wanted to stop by and offer you a little welcoming gift.” 

“Oh, how kind of you!” Enna exclaimed, accepting the basket. “Pyotr, darling, come say hi to our neighbors!” 

Pyotr Whitethorn came to the doorway a moment later, his son’s hand in his. “Pyotr Whitethorn. So lovely to meet you,” he smiled. “Rowan, kiddo, you want to say hi to our new neighbors?” 

The boy’s muffled voice mumbled a shy reply. 

Pyotr chuckled. “C’mere, son.” Moving aside, he gently nudged the boy forwards. “Say hi to Mr. Galathynius and Mrs. Ashryver, Rowan.” 

Rowan’s big, timid green eyes peered up at Rhoe and Evalin through the floppy, pale-blonde hair that fell over his forehead. “Nice to meet you,” he said softly. “My name is Rowan.”

“How old are you, Rowan?” Evalin asked gently, flicking a brief grin at Enna. 

“I’m nine.” 

“Well, isn’t that lovely!” Evalin turned to her daughter. “Fireheart, honey, he’s only a year older than you.” She stroked Aelin’s blonde hair. “Will you say hi to the Whitethorns?” 

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Whitethorn,” Aelin said, her hand small but confident as she shook hands like her parents had. “My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, and I’m eight years old.”  

His hand on her shoulder, Rhoe subtly turned Aelin towards Rowan. “You should ask him if he’s going to your school, Fireheart,” he murmured. 

Aelin turned her eyes to Rowan, finding–to her mild surprise–that she was a little tiny bit taller than him. “Are you gonna go to Brannon Elementary?” 

He nodded. “Uh-huh. I’m gonna be in fourth grade.” 

“I’m gonna be in third grade,” she replied. “We can walk to school together if you want, ’cause I know the secret way to get there.” 

Rowan’s eyes widened. “There’s a secret way?” 

“Yeah!” Aelin beamed. “Well, it’s kinda secret. Other kids know about it too. But just kids!” she promised, quick to defend the secrecy of the secret path. “No parents!” 

A small smile curved across Rowan’s face. “Back at my old house, we had a secret path in our backyard.” 

Aelin gasped. “Really?” 

“Yeah, really!” Rowan’s timidity faded away the more he talked to Aelin. “It went down to the creek and we called it Narnia.” 

Aelin’s mouth dropped open. “I love Narnia!” she exclaimed, clapping with excitement. “Did you read the books too?” 

Rowan nodded. “Mhmm. Well, my dad reads them to me.” 

Pyotr grinned fondly at his son. “And now you’ve found someone else who loves Narnia just as much as you do.” 

“We started reading the Narnia books to Aelin when she was six,” Evalin added. “She’s been in love with them ever since.” 

Watching the two children rapidly overcome their shyness and eagerly talk to each other, Enna beamed. “I think we’re going to be seeing our young ones in each other’s houses an awful lot.” 

She couldn’t have been more correct.

~

Rowan Whitethorn was screwed. Completely and utterly and in all ways screwed.

Well, all ways except the one in which he would have liked to be. 

Rowan Whitethorn was head over heels in love with his best friend, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, and he didn’t know how to express it. 

And, of course, there was the very small matter of the guy she was dating. 

A guy who wasn’t him. 

Sometime over the summer, Aelin had gone out on a date with Chaol Westfall, a guy in her class. She’d come home wearing a small grin and had later informed Rowan–as best friends do–that she had said yes to going on another date. Which turned into another, and another, and eventually, she’d become Chaol Westfall’s girlfriend. 

Every time Rowan saw them together, he wanted to punch the shit out of Chaol. 

It was a strange feeling, really, because there was no legitimate reason for him to want to beat Chaol’s ass. Despite what Rowan irrationally feared, Chaol was a complete gentleman to Aelin, and she was always telling her parents how sweet he was to her. Any time he passed the two of them in the halls, Rowan couldn’t help but notice their linked hands, their shared smiles and laughter, their little happy bubble that made him irrationally, impossibly jealous. 

But Aelin was happy, so he forced his impossible jealousy down deep in his mind, burying it beneath a heap of happiness for his best friend. 

Until the day he came over to Aelin’s house for their usual Thursday night homework session and found her sitting alone at the kitchen table with a lost look on her face. 

He dropped his backpack and rushed to her side, stopping himself before he could do anything idiotic like–like kiss her. “Aelin? God, are you okay?!” 

She turned her head, meeting his worried eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She shook her head, clearing the pensiveness from her face. “I…never mind, you wouldn’t really care.” 

“Ae.” Rowan dropped into the seat next to her and instinctively laid his hand over hers. “You’re my best friend, of course I care.” 

She sighed. “I broke up with Chaol.” 

He smothered the joy that swelled within him. “What? Why? Was he doing something bad to you? I swear to the gods, if he was hurting you, I–” 

“It wasn’t like that,” she interrupted, squeezing his hand. “Really, Ro. Thank you for…for asking, though.” She swallowed. “It’s just…no, never mind, it’s stupid.” 

“Ae, please.” 

She looked up, faltering, her usual brazen confidence nowhere in sight. “If…” She cleared her throat. “Rowan, if I tell you, will you promise not to laugh at me?” 

“Aelin,” Rowan breathed, squeezing her hands. “I will never, ever laugh when you tell me something this serious.” 

“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Ro, I broke up with Chaol because he, well–it wasn’t right. We didn’t have any spark, any fireworks, nothing magical–and I’m not being silly and shallow and overly romanticizing my life, Ro, I’m not that kind of girl–I just…gods, after almost a year, you’d think there would have been…something.” She sank backwards into the couch, her eyes going distant, misty. “I almost wonder if there’s something wrong, if–”

“No.” Rowan’s response was whip-quick. 

She blinked. “You sound so certain.” 

“I am certain.” His gaze, deep and calm as the forest, steadied her. “I am one hundred percent certain, Ae.” 

“You’re too good to me,” Aelin mumbled. “Ro, I just–it was almost a year and I felt…nothing. He checked all the boxes, he was a gentleman and he was sweet and he was never too cloying or too demanding or anything and I can’t help but wonder if my standards are too high?” She released a short, dry bark of a laugh. “Am I just fooling myself thinking I’ll ever find a real-life guy who makes me feel the way all the lead females in my favorite books do?” 

“Don’t ever feel like you need to lower your standards,” Rowan whispered. “So Chaol was everything you wanted except the…what did you call it, the spark?” 

“Yeah. Everything but the spark.” Her voice was faint. “Which I’m coming to realize really is just something from fantasy books that I was stupid to even expect in reality.” 

“Hey.” Before she could talk herself down any more, he leaned down to peer up into her downcast eyes. “You can and should expect real-life guys to treat you just as well as your favorite fantasy ladies get treated by their love interests.” 

She sniffled. “You’re just saying that ’cause you’re sorry I won’t let you beat Chaol’s face in.” 

“True,” he grumbled. 

A soft, watery chuckle. “You boys and your testosterone, always needing to beat each other up over the stupidest things.” 

Before he could really process what he was doing, Rowan wrapped his arms around Aelin, pulling her into his embrace. “Not being the right guy for you isn’t stupid, Ae.” 

She sniffled, leaning into his chest. “Maybe not. But still–you can’t beat him up, Ro. He didn’t hurt me, I promise.” 

“I trust you,” he promised, relishing the way she was letting him hold her. “Still not completely happy, though.” Because I could be everything for you, he added silently. 

Words he couldn’t–wouldn’t–say. 

“Thank you,” she mumbled after a long moment, lifting her head to look into his eyes. “Thank you, Ro.” 

“Anything,” he whispered, his lips quirking. “What else are best friends for?” 

~

Three years later, when Rowan unexpectedly ran into Aelin late at night at the University of Terrasen’s west campus gym, it was like time froze still, the frame stuck in a long lingering endless moment until he blinked and the clock restarted and he recognized her. 

~

During her sophomore year of college, Aelin made a vow. 

She may have been a little tipsy, may have been more than a little emotional, but a vow was still a vow, and she meant this one with all her being. 

No matter what may arise, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius swore she was staying single. 

There were…too many reasons why she couldn’t let anyone else into her life, into her home, into her heart. Beginning and ending with I’m still in love with my best friend even though I know he doesn’t reciprocate or he would have said something a long, long time ago. 

Not to mention, Sam Cortland. A name she’d sworn to put away, along with all the…memories that name inspired. 

She shook her head, clearing away the reminiscing, and tapped her student ID against the card reader of the west campus gym door, letting herself in. Since moving into an on-campus apartment with Lys and Elide, she’d grown fond of going to the west campus gym for her nightly workouts, finding it usually pretty empty at night. And she preferred an emptier gym–fewer people to potentially stare at her ass or her boobs or just flat-out ogle her while she worked out. Gods, it was like none of the gym-bros had ever seen a girl before. Though maybe that was true–they spent so much time in the gym, they probably didn’t see anyone other than the other gym rats. 

Music pumping through her headphones, Aelin focused her attention on her workout, tuning out her surroundings until she was walking on the treadmill as a cooldown, pretty damn exhausted but giddy with the serotonin rush that came from a good workout. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the door open and a figure step inside. Someone else who liked the west gym when it was emptier, apparently. Not really paying attention to who’d walked in, Aelin turned the treadmill down a notch, stretching her arms over her head as her body cooled off. 

It wasn’t until she climbed off the treadmill that she realized the guy who’d just entered hadn’t moved from his spot by the door. Faintly concerned, she glanced over towards him. 

And time screeched to a halt. 

Her eyes widened in shock. “Rowan?” 

His hands shaking, Rowan Whitethorn carefully placed his water bottle down on the floor before he dropped it on his foot. “Aelin,” he breathed, just as stunned as her. 

She huffed an incredulous half-laugh. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages, Ro, how are you?” 

“I…” He ran a hand through his messy, pale hair, the movement drawing her gaze to the tattoo flowing down his sculpted arm. “Gods, I’ve missed you.” 

Not what she’d been expecting. 

Despite the iron chains enveloping it, her heart fluttered. “We literally go to the same college, Ro.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed, “but we’re in such different fields, and I live halfway across campus and have to deal with hockey and all that other fun stuff.” 

She chuckled. “Remind me again who was oh so elated to sign to UTerr?” 

“All right, you win,” he grumbled playfully. 

She flashed him a little grin. “Night, Ro.” 

“Hey.” He touched her shoulder before she headed out the door. “We should grab food or coffee sometime, it’d be…um, I mean–I want to catch up.” Was he…blushing?

“You’re cute when you blush,” she teased. 

His flush only deepened. “Please, Ae? I know I’m babbling like a freshman, but I–I’ve really missed you.” 

She couldn’t control the soft smile that broke across her face. “I’d love to. You have my number, text me when you’re available.” 

His “I will!” rang in her ears for the rest of the night, leaving her with a giddy little grin when she returned to her apartment. 

~

Sprawled on the couch with whatever show she was watching this week, Lysandra glanced up when her roommate came in. And smirked. “Well, well, someone met a hot guy at the gym.” 

“Shut up,” Aelin laughed, shrugging off her light jacket and hanging it in the hall closet. 

Lys paused her show and sat up, grinning like a fiend. “You did?!”

“No comment.” Smirking, Aelin made to head down to her room. 

“Oh hell no!” Lys caught her arm. “Details, babes. I need details!” 

“There aren’t any details,” Aelin chuckled. Lys arched a dark brow, folding her arms across her chest. “Really, darling. Nothing happened. It was just Rowan.” 

Lysandra’s jaw dropped so far so fast Aelin was half afraid it would break clean off. “JUST ROWAN?!” she squealed, gaping at her roommate. 

Aelin smothered a very satisfied grin. “Mhmm. What, is there something special about that?” 

“You tell me, babes,” Lys smirked, eagerly awaiting the details she craved. 

“Calm down, Lys,” Aelin laughed, heading down the hall towards her room. “We just ran into each other at the gym, it wasn’t like anything actually happened.” Not like I've dreamed that he kissed me like I’ve never been kissed or anything. 

“Boo!” Lys frowned. “C’mon, Ae, please tell me he at least said hi?” 

“Oh yeah, of course. We talked for a little bit, but he was coming to the gym when I was close to leaving, so we weren’t both there for too long.” 

“Boring!” 

Aelin flipped her roommate off over her shoulder, giggling at Lysandra’s screech of protest. “Told you there weren’t any details!” Well…perhaps one detail. She poked her head back out of her room, waiting until she heard her roommate grumbling to herself in the kitchen. “Oh, Lys, one thing?” 

“Yeah?” Lys stuck her head around the corner. “What?” 

“We might have a date for coffee in a few days.” Cackling like a madwoman, Aelin closed her door, cutting off Lysandra’s squeals of shock and excitement. 

“BITCH!” Lys shrieked, glee making her voice rise about three octaves. “You can’t just LEAVE like that!” 

Oh, but Aelin could. 

~

“Hey.” A small, warm grin curled Aelin’s lips as she opened the apartment door for Rowan. “I’m just about ready, you can come in while I grab my shoes.” 

“This is a really nice place,” Rowan commented, his own little crooked grin flitting across his face. “Not much you can do with a campus apartment, I know, but this feels like…like a home.” 

“Thanks,” she grinned. “Lys and Ells and I spent like three weeks decorating the place when we moved in.” 

He blinked. “Gods, that’s a, um, a long time?” 

“Yeah, it is,” Aelin chuckled, “but we pretend it’s normal.” 

“Bet all the home decorating stores in town just love you,” Rowan teased, taking a casual seat on the plush dark-blue sofa. 

“Back in a minute!” She disappeared down the hall, taking just a moment to pull on her ankle boots, fluff up her hair, and grab her small purse before heading back out. “I’m ready!” 

Rowan stood up, holding the door for her. “You look gorgeous,” he said softly, appreciatively glancing at her outfit. 

She flushed. “Thanks.” 

He led her out to his car, clicking the key fob to unlock the pickup’s doors. “Don’t tease, it’s a bit of a mess in here but I love this old hunk of rust.” 

She chuckled as she swung herself up into the cab. “Hunk of rust, huh? Then why don’t I see any rust anywhere, Ro?” 

“Cleaned it out just for today,” he beamed. 

She giggled. “You did not. I know you, Rowan Whitethorn–you can’t live with a dirty car.” 

“Fair enough,” he conceded, winking at her in the rearview mirror. And damn her, but that little gesture sent butterflies racing in her stomach. “So, coffee?”

“Please,” Aelin announced dramatically. “Me without caffeine is a sight you never want to see.” She flashed him a grin. “All right, the place I love is pretty close, but it’s also really popular and you might not be able to park in front. Just a warning.” 

“Damn weekend coffee drinkers,” Rowan grumbled playfully. “Thanks for the warning, Ae.” 

“Yeah, of course.” She directed him down the streets, pointing out the coffee shop as they drove past. Sure enough, the handful of parking spots by the building were already taken, so Rowan drove a few blocks down to the public parking lot and parked there. “Hope you don’t mind walking.” 

“On a day like this?” He shook his head. “Not at all.” 

They fell into step together, their hands completely coincidentally linking as they walked the short distance to the coffee shop, the building’s brick exterior slightly faded by decades of weather. Rowan pulled open the front door for Aelin, flashing her another of his little half-grins that made her belly do funny flips, and followed her inside, both of them deeply inhaling the warm, welcoming aroma of the place. 

“I come here all the time,” Aelin chuckled, waving quickly at one of the employees. 

“Obviously,” Rowan grinned. “Half the staff’s probably back there running around in a frenzy because that damn Galathynius girl is here to buy out their whole stock of pastries again.” 

“Rude!” She swatted his shoulder, lips puffing out into a dramatic, feigned pout. 

He just smirked. “Am I wrong?” 

“Shut it,” she muttered, poking him in the ribs. 

His soft, deep laugh rumbled against her back. “Don’t worry, Ae, I’ll get you a pastry. Even two. Three is a stretch, though.” 

“Such a gentleman,” she crooned. 

“Just trying to impress you enough to wheedle a second date.” 

“Ah, Ro.” She squeezed his hand. “Maybe I shouldn’t say this before you buy me food, but you don’t need to wheedle me with pastries.” She winked. “I was already planning to ask you for another date.” 

“Jumping to conclusions before the first date?” he teased. 

She swatted him again. “As if you hadn’t already envisioned the next three to five years in that lovely little brain of yours.” 

It was his turn to flush. 

She snickered and tugged him up to the counter. “C’mon, Ro, ready to order?” 

They ended up taking their drinks and two chocolate croissants over to a cozy little table by a window, which Aelin spotted and immediately claimed. Lucky to find one indoors, she joked, since it was so busy in the coffee shop. 

Rowan eyed her drink dubiously. “You sure that’s not going to kill you?”

She rolled her eyes, taking a languid sip. “It’s my usual order, Ro, of course it’s not going to harm me. Not all of us drink boring black coffee, you know.” 

“Menace,” he teased. “Not that I want to know, but…what in all things holy is that, Ae?” 

“Iced mocha with oat milk and a pump of hazelnut.” She rattled it off with practiced ease. “Oat milk because I’m lactose intolerant and dairy will not be kind to my apartment’s plumbing, and hazelnut because chocolate and hazelnut is the best combination ever created.” 

Rowan blinked rapidly, processing her order. “So, caffeine and sugar and more sugar?” 

“Exactly!” She beamed. 

He barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “Here, have even more sugar, then, gods know I can’t control your eating habits.” 

“Glad you’re learning,” she laughed, accepting the plate. “And yes, you will be eating one of these.” 

“But I–”

“No but,” she interrupted. “Indulging yourself every once in a while doesn’t mean you’re abandoning your meal plan, Ro. And besides, Emrys would be horrified if he saw me bring someone who won’t eat pastries into his beloved coffee shop.” 

“All right, all right, I yield.” Rowan took his plate, cut the pastry in half, and took a bite, his eyes closing at the taste. “Gods, this is incredible!” 

“Told you so,” she smirked. 

“Fine,” he grumbled, pretending to look affronted. 

She snickered. “See? Drinking sad, boring black coffee does have negative side effects!” She bit into her own pastry, not even bothering to mute her soft, appreciative moan of delight. “Emrys, you are my favorite person.” 

“Ouch,” Rowan teased. “What a thing to say on a first date.” 

Aelin huffed a laugh. “So funny, aren’t you?” 

“It’s why you agreed to go out with me,” he grinned, giving her a theatrical dip of his head. 

“Mmm, yeah, me agreeing to go out with you had nothing to do with years of pining, not at all,” she deadpanned. 

He froze, coffee cup halfway to his mouth. 

Shit. 

Think before you speak, dammit! she berated herself, cheeks blooming bright pink. “Gods, I didn’t mean for that to just slip out, I’m–” 

“Years of pining?” he breathed, shakily setting his coffee down. “Aelin…Fireheart, I’ve been head over heels for you since we were kids or something.” 

It was her turn to muffle a gasp. “Are you…are you serious, Rowan?” 

“Completely.” He reached across the table and laid his hand atop hers. “I can only say I’m sorry it took so damn long to admit it.” 

“Gods.” She laced her fingers with his, a smile brighter than the morning sun breaking across her face. “What took us so long?” 

“Gods only know,” he chuckled, his joy matching hers. “Gods only know.” 

~

They had a month until graduation. 

Aelin honestly didn’t know how the time had flown so fast. It seemed like just last week that she was a terrified freshman moving into the dorms for her first semester of college. She felt like she’d blinked and four years had flown by, like it had only been a day instead of just over a year since she and Rowan started dating. 

Which meant that it was now nearly two and a half years since the incident–the main reason she kept evading Rowan’s gentle urges that they move in together after graduation. 

The last time she’d moved in with her boyfriend, things hadn’t exactly gone according to their youthful dreams. 

“Fireheart.” Rowan trailed his fingers through Aelin’s loose hair, pleading with her to offer him some kind–any kind–of answer. “Please, Fireheart, I’m freaking out, did I say something wrong?” 

She raised her head slightly from its comfortable position in his lap. “No, buzzard, you didn’t say anything wrong, I promise. I just…” She closed her eyes, the memory almost too much. “Ro, I don’t know if I–if I can.” 

He shifted on the couch, moving so he was lying down with his head against the throw pillows she’d all but forced him to buy for his apartment, and settled her back against his chest, knowing how much the closeness calmed her. He didn’t say anything for a good long moment, spinning words around his mind until he finally figured out the phrasing. “I don’t want to pry, Fireheart, but you know how my mind is, and I’m imagining some fuckin’ terrible things right now.” 

Her hand rose up to curl against his jaw. “Ro, love, I promise I’m okay.” She sighed, long and soft. “I…I need to tell you something.” 

“Anything,” he murmured. 

The next words out of her mouth just about made his brain stall, though. 

“His name was Sam. Sam Cortland. And he…he’s dead.” 

Rowan felt the weight of those words, the heaviness of the sorrow woven into that name. He stayed quiet, giving Aelin time to form her thoughts, just holding her close and offering whatever wordless comfort he could give. 

She exhaled slowly. “I met Sam the first week of classes here, he was in a few of mine. Well, actually, I met Sam in middle school; I was one of the student leaders, so new students got to shadow me. He was all scared of his own shadow because his former foster dad beat him. I’ll get to that…later. We started talking pretty soon, and he asked me out before the end of September. And I, well, I really liked him. He was sweet and funny and made me laugh at his stupid jokes and stayed up with me whenever I needed company at two in the morning because I had an assignment due the next day. He had to stay in the dorms for that first semester like we all did, but he told me he was getting an apartment for the next semester, and he asked me if I wanted to live with him.”

“His foster dad what?” Muted violence laced Rowan’s tone. 

Aelin pursed her lips. “Arobynn Hamel was…a piece of fucking work. Somehow, he stayed in the foster system, but almost every time the agency gave him a kid, that kid transferred within six months. Sam was one of the only exceptions, and he, well, he told me it was because he was too damn terrified to say anything to the caseworker.” 

“That monster,” Rowan growled. 

“So violent.” Aelin traced her thumb along his jaw. “Arobynn’s been dead for two years, Ro, so your violence won’t get you anywhere.” She shook her head a bit. “Anyway. Sam finally got transferred when he was sixteen, and Philippa–his foster mom–is the most wonderful woman ever. Arobynn was not happy about the transfer, of course, and he spent an alarming amount of time basically stalking Sam. Which is why Sam came to UTerr. It’s so far from Rifthold that he knew he’d be safe, plus he was a legal adult and he could file for a restraining order, which he did.” Her eyes went distant. “Gods, we thought we were safe from that asshole.” 

“Thought?” 

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “Sam and I moved into an apartment together for the second semester of our freshman year, and it was…really great, actually. I loved the independence of living off campus and feeling like a real adult, and I loved living with Sam. And we really thought we were safe from his horrific foster dad, we really did. Gods, we were so stupid. People like that–you can go to every extent of the law, and they’ll still defy it.” Tears clogged her throat now, choking her words. 

“Fireheart, don’t feel like you’re obligated to tell me,” Rowan murmured, smoothing his hand down her spine. 

Aelin sniffled. “I want you to know, Rowan.” 

“Okay.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m right here, then.” 

She took another deep, steadying breath. “Not quite a month after the semester ended–we both decided to stay in the city and work for the summer, so we were still there–I got home from work late and Sam wasn’t home yet. It didn’t surprise me, I knew he usually worked evenings and his some of his coworkers were the ‘give all the sidework to the newest employee’ type, so I just went about my business like normal, expecting him to get home later.” She swallowed. “It was maybe ten or ten thirty when I started to get concerned. And we didn’t exactly live in the most pristine of neighborhoods; our place was low-cost but pretty clean, it’s not like we were in the worst part of town. But hearing road racing and finding the occasional drunk passed out on the sidewalk was…not uncommon.

I decided to go check on things a little after eleven. I locked up and headed downstairs, hoping I’d run into Sam on my way down. I didn’t. So I walked out of the building, headed down the street in the direction he’d be coming from, and I just…walked and waited and hoped. I convinced myself he’d just had a hectic shift and he’d be coming down the street at any minute, complaining about how much he hated working with these two servers because they always left early and made him do their sidework. Gods only know what time it was when I saw him coming down the street. He raised his hand to me, and I swear I could see the way his face lit up when he saw me. He checked the crosswalk, because he always did, he was that one person who’d always check for traffic even late at night when nobody was around, and started across the street to me.” 

Her whole body shuddered. 

“And then that godsdamned black car came screeching out of fucking nowhere and fucking slammed into him and just sped right the fuck on past like nothing had happened and I swear I hear the way his yell cut off in my nightmares.” Aelin sobbed, her body shaking, tears pouring down her face. “I don’t even remember what happened next–I was by his side, he was bleeding out all over the road, he was barely even alive, he–he just–he told me–” She broke off, burying her face in her hands, the salty heat of her tears soaking into Rowan’s shirt. 

Rowan wrapped his arms tighter around her, wishing he could take away her anguish. 

Her breath came shuddering out. “He told me to live. He–he could barely even whisper, I could see the way the light was leaving his eyes–and he told me, ‘You have to live, Aelin. Don’t just survive or exist. Live.’ I swear I felt like I was bleeding out right next to him.” She went quiet for a long moment, her tears steadily dripping into Rowan’s shirt. “Someone on the other side of the street got a picture of the car’s license plates and a short little video clip of the driver, and it was enough to identify the driver. And if you’re thinking of a certain Arobynn Hamel, you are correct. Bastard didn’t ever give a shit about the restraining order, he just wanted to get after the one man who had stories to tell the world about his cruelty in the foster system.” Aelin closed her eyes, breathing slowly. “The police arrested Arobynn maybe a week later for violating a restraining order, aggravated murder, vehicular homicide, and some other charges. He went to trial relatively fast, was found guilty on all counts, and got sentenced to life without possibility of parole. I was a witness, and gods, it might make me an awful human, but I felt so fucking vindicated when the judge pronounced the verdict.” 

“As you should,” Rowan mumbled. 

“Yeah.” Aelin wiped tears off her cheeks. “Just over two years ago, the news ran a little article mentioning that Mr. Arobynn Hamel, a convict in the state prison, had been found dead in his cell. They couldn’t find any evidence of who or what did it, but the coroner’s report mentioned that his autopsy indicated trace amounts of some pretty goddamn fatal drugs. And gods, it was the biggest load off my shoulders to hear that the filthy bastard was dead.” 

“As it should be.” Rowan’s voice was firm with conviction. 

She sniffled. “Really?” 

“Really.” He traced his thumb over the slope of her cheekbone. “He deserved it.” 

“Yeah he fucking did.” Aelin brushed the last stray tears from her face, moving so she could tuck her head into the crook of Rowan’s neck, meeting his soft gaze. “Stop looking at me like that, Ro.” 

“Like what?” He tucked a loose strand of hair away. “Like I love you and wish with everything I am that I could take away your pain?” 

The tiniest of smiles flickered across her lips. “Like that, yes.” 

He brushed a whisper-soft kiss against her forehead. “I’m so beyond sorry that all of…this happened to you, Fireheart. Hell, sorry doesn’t even begin to cover what I want to say.” 

“I know.” She cupped his face, her fingertips trailing across the tattoo that flicked along the side of his neck. “You don’t have to try and put it into words, my buzzard. I know.” 

Aelin fell asleep atop Rowan’s chest that night, curled close into his soothing warmth. When she awoke, still in his arms, she knew from the thrum of complete contentment that raced through her whole self that she wanted to spend forever with this man. 

~

Something was up. 

Aelin didn’t know exactly what it was, but lately, Rowan had been acting…weird. Anytime he was scrolling through his phone when she walked into the room, he’d inhale sharply and switch screens or just put down his phone entirely. Same with his laptop–he’d close tabs before she could see what on earth he was trying to hide. 

And if she was being honest, that worried her. 

What with her tendency to jump straight to the worst possible conclusions, Aelin was struggling to keep her imagination in check. No, Galathynius! she berated herself. Stop thinking about Rowan doing shady shit like that! Try as she might to force herself to think of happier things, her mind always found a way to slip in a sliver of uncertainty. 

Gods, she hoped she was wrong. 

“Fireheart, you okay?” Rowan’s hand rested atop her thigh, his brows wrinkling in concern. 

“Yeah.” Aelin blinked herself back into the present moment, flashing him a quick half-grin. “I’m just thinking, love.” 

“Mmm, having deep thoughts?” 

She poked his side. “Smartass.” 

“You love it.” 

“Right.” She winked wickedly. “I do love your smart ass.” 

He choked on his water, coughing deeply. “Aelin!” 

She snickered. “What?” 

“You’re a menace,” he grumbled, his cheeks flushing bright pink. 

She gave him a quick peck of a kiss. “I love you too, buzzard.” 

He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a curse. “Remind me again why I let myself fall for all your little jokes?” 

“Because you love my little jokes,” she beamed. 

“I really do, love,” he agreed, chuckling. “Gods, I really do.” 

~

Rowan was in mild distress. 

Actually, he was in major distress, but he couldn’t just go around showing it, could he? He was a college graduate with a real adult job and a mortgage and a car and a girlfriend whom he loved more than life itself, a girlfriend to whom he was planning to propose. 

Hence the distress. 

He’d known pretty much since their first date in college that Aelin was the woman he wanted to marry, but he hadn’t wanted to rush into anything lest he destroy his dreams before they’d bloomed. So he waited, and he spent every possible moment with her, and he fell more and more in love with her each day they spent together. They had each moved into their own homes after graduation–Aelin leased a condo near the business district, conveniently close to her workplace, and Rowan signed the mortgage on his house using some of the funds he’d inherited from his stinking rich old auntie Maeve when she passed. Between his work schedule and her hectic work hours, they often went over to each other’s places to find nobody home, but they’d managed to carve out regular date nights and time together. 

About six months ago, Rowan had opened up a secondary savings account next to his main bank accounts. Into this second account, he deposited a small percent of each paycheck, watching the numbers climb steadily up until there was a decent-sized chunk of money in the account. 

Then, he started looking at engagement rings. 

He’d nearly had a heart attack the first time he opened a jeweler’s website and saw the price ranges and how those prices changed based on the metal and the jewels and the design. And he had been utterly lost among the pages and pages of seemingly infinite ring designs, each new website and webpage he looked at screaming advertisements at him. All he wanted was a ring that Aelin would love, not some gaudy, tacky statement piece. 

A few weeks ago, he’d deliberately come over to her condo before she got off work so he could quietly check her ring size. He knew there were a few rings she frequently wore but couldn’t wear at work and just about cheered when he saw one of them atop her dresser. Quickly, he placed the ring against the sizing guide he’d printed out, noting down what size it was. 

The next day, he’d taken Aelin’s ring size and a few photos of the kind of jewelry she usually wore into the jeweler’s shop near the building where he worked. 

When he walked in, probably a little wide-eyed and nervous, he’d been almost immediately greeted by a kind-faced older gentleman wearing a neatly pressed suit. “Good afternoon! How can I help you, sir?” 

Rowan’s breath whooshed out. “I, uh, I want to propose to my girlfriend but I have no idea what kind of ring to get.” 

“Wonderful.” The gentleman held out his hand. “You’ve come to the perfect place, then. My name is Malakai, and I’ve owned this palace for over thirty years.” 

“Wow.” Rowan gazed around the shop appreciatively. “That’s wonderful!” 

“Mmm, it’s nothing much.” Malakai waved him off. “I do it to see all the happy couples who come in here.” He led Rowan towards the back of the shop and gestured towards the simple table and chairs. “Have a seat, Mr…” 

“Gods, I’m so rude.” Rowan took a seat. “Rowan Whitethorn.” 

“Pleasure to meet you, Rowan.” Malakai folded his hands atop the table. “Now, what were you thinking your girlfriend would like?” 

“I don’t know,” Rowan admitted. “I’ve spent weeks looking at pictures and ideas and hiding the evidence from her and I’m still stumped.” He placed the sizing guide and the few photos he’d brought along onto the table. “I do have a few things, though.” 

“Excellent.” Malakai looked at the sizing guide first. “Oh, you’ve found her ring size! That’s a perfect first step, it means you most likely won’t have to get a whole different size of the ring.” 

“Thank the gods,” Rowan huffed. 

Malakai chuckled. “What else have you brought?” 

“Just a few photos of the jewelry Aelin usually wears, I didn’t know if that would help at all.” 

“It does help.” Malakai looked over the photos. “Hmm…all right, we can work with this.” The creases around his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Don’t worry, Rowan, it won’t be as terrible as you might be imagining.” 

“Good,” Rowan laughed. “So…help me out?” 

“Right.” Malakai grabbed a notepad and a pen. “From what I can tell, she typically wears white gold or silver jewelry, yes?” Rowan nodded. “Good. Then you will probably want to select a white gold or silver metal for the ring. The metals do look similar upon first glance, but white gold is one of our most popular materials, since it can work with both silver and gold jewelry.” 

“Right.” Rowan considered for a moment. “I trust your judgment, let’s go with the white gold.” 

“Excellent.” Malakai made a note on his page. “Now, the stone.” 

“Any stone?” 

“Any,” Malakai confirmed. “Most couples choose the diamond for the engagement ring, as I’m sure you know from looking at references, but any precious stone can be the centerpiece of a ring.” 

“Okay.” Rowan toyed with the band of his watch. “Well, here’s the thing. I guess I do kind of have more ideas than I thought, because I’ve…I’ve always dreamed of proposing with an emerald ring.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “See, it’s her birthstone and maybe her favorite and I gave her my grandmother’s emerald necklace for our first anniversary dating and I don’t know, I guess I just had the vision since then of giving her an emerald ring.” 

Malakai scribbled down some more notes, smiling softly. “That’s a beautiful vision–really, Rowan, it is. We can certainly go with the emerald.” 

“Perfect.” Rowan sat back in his chair. “Now what?” 

“Now,” Malakai grinned, “we work on the ring’s design.” 

Rowan went home that evening with his head spinning and a big bright grin on his face. After several hours spent with Malakai in the jewelry shop, the two of them going over potential designs and settings for Aelin’s ring until Rowan’s head was spinning, they’d finally settled on a few different designs, which Rowan had copies of. He would have to choose one design, yes, but just knowing that he nearly had a ring for the woman of his heart made him a thousand times happier. 

One step closer to asking her to be his forever. 

~

The midsummer evening faded slowly into night, the sunset’s pastel strokes bleeding into deep blues and violets flecked with silvery-bright sparks of stars. Aelin sighed contentedly from her position sprawled in Rowan’s lap, her head tucked against his shoulder and his arms around her bare waist, both of them a little salty and sandy from hours at the beach. 

“Don’t wanna get up,” she mumbled, tugging at his arms when he tried to stand. 

He chuckled softly. “Fireheart, don’t you want a bath?” 

She shook her head, her blonde braid rustling. “No, buzzard. I just want you.” 

Rowan swore up and down that he’d felt the hands of the gods themselves on his shoulder at that moment, as if they’d given him the perfect moment he’d been hoping for. “Ah, Fireheart,” he grinned, standing up despite her pretend protests and coming around in front of her. “I just want you, too.” Never once taking his eyes from hers, he lowered himself to one knee, reaching into the pocket of his shorts for the small velvet box he’d been carrying around for a month or so. “Aelin–Fireheart–will you marry me?” 

Aelin pressed her hands over her mouth, tears glistening in her eyes. “Yes,” she breathed, dropping to her knees in the sand, a brilliant smile spreading across her face. “Yes, Rowan, yes, always and forever yes.” 

“I love you,” he whispered thickly, his throat clogged with unshed tears of his own as he took her hand in his and slipped the ring onto her finger. “To whatever end, my love.” 

“To whatever end, my buzzard,” she whispered back, flinging her arms around him and all but tackling him into the sand. Her fingers tangled into his wind-snarled hair, tipping his face up to hers as she pressed the sweetest kiss to his lips, all the years of her love for him poured out into the press of her slightly-salty lips. 

When she pulled away, both of them were grinning like fools, young and in love and so beyond elated to be there with each other on the beach, basking in the cocoon of their joy. 

They strolled slowly back to the hotel hand in hand, glancing over at each other and beaming like idiots every few seconds. Rowan’s thumb traced along the ring now adorning Aelin’s left hand, as if he could hardly believe it was real. Hell, she could hardly believe that it was real, that she was engaged to her best friend and dearest love, the man she’d dreamed of for years and years. 

And the ring was stunning–a teardrop-cut emerald surrounded by tiny emeralds in a lighter shade of green set atop a simple white-gold band. Inside the band, as Aelin discovered, were engraved the very words they’d exchanged that night and so many other times. 

To whatever end. 

~

“Yes, Mom, we sent out the invitations weeks ago.” Aelin pinched the bridge of her nose, doing her utmost to keep from throwing her phone at the wall. “We spent a whole day addressing all the envelopes, remember?” 

“Yes, I remember,” Evalin conceded. “I’m just going over the checklist I have and I needed to make sure the box had been checked off.” 

“Well, according to my copy of the list, we’re all the way up to collecting RSVPs and doing dress fittings. You don’t need to be so worried, Mom, you’ve got it all planned out.” 

“I know, honey.” Evalin paused. “I just…oh, Aelin, I want you to have the best day of your life, I really do, and–”

“And it won’t be any less beautiful if we don’t have the cake flavor picked out seven months in advance,” Aelin deadpanned. “Please, Mom, I’m stressed enough as it is.” 

Her mother sighed. “All right, then. And it’s only ten weeks until the date, but I won’t bother you so much. I’ll be at the dress shop for your and the bridesmaids’ final fittings next week, okay?” 

“Okay.” Aelin forced herself to put a smile in her voice. “Love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, Fireheart.” 

Aelin flung her phone onto her couch and groaned, pressing the heels of her palms against her forehead. “Fuck!” 

“Fireheart?” Rowan asked, popping into the living room. “Are you okay?” 

She grumbled a string of unprintable words. “If everyone would stop breathing down my damn neck about this bloody massive wedding and all the bloody endless details, I would be.” 

Rowan came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. “Need to rant?” 

She leaned into his solid warmth, turning around so she could drop her head against his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat soothing her heated blood. “I don’t–gods, Ro, every time I turn around there’s someone else with some form to be signed or some deposit to be made or some other detail I need to think about and have a decision within two days. It’s getting to the point where I’m almost afraid to answer the phone when my mom calls, because I just know she’ll be waving her godsdamned list at me and banging on about how we’re so behind when I know we’re not and gods it’s just so much stress I don’t fucking need!” She was panting by the time she ended, tears misting her eyes. “I don’t know how to handle it, Ro.” 

“Oh, Fireheart,” he murmured, wishing there was some way for him to banish her stress. “Do you need me to handle your phone for you?” 

She chuckled humorlessly. “I wish. Gods, Rowan, why can’t we just run off and forget about all this huge glamorous wedding bullshit?” 

“Who says we can’t?” 

She blinked. “What?” 

He cupped one hand around her jaw. “Love, this ‘glamorous wedding bullshit’ is making your life hell. Who says we can’t just elope and not worry about it?” 

“Rowan…” Aelin cleared her throat. “What about how everyone’s gonna get mad? What about–”

“No.” He placed his fingertips over her lips. “Aelin, this is your day.” 

“Our day.” 

“Our day.” He kissed her softly. “We get to choose how we want to get married, my love. We can have a huge glamorous wedding that’ll make us both so stressed it won’t be a day to treasure, or we can have a little wedding by ourselves and be in love with the day.” 

She flicked a stray tear off her cheek. “You’re an old sap, buzzard.” 

“So…”

“Hell yes.” Aelin rose up onto her tiptoes and kissed him. “I’m going to text Elide and pack some stuff. Let’s go get married, my love.”

~~~

TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added or removed :)

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

[tatatale]

Side comic "Promise" finally finished! ♥

You can check the previous parts I made years ago here: Part 1 - Extra - Part 2 (PLEASE CHECK THE WARNINGS BEFORE START READING)

UnderFell belongs to @/underfell and what happens here is only canon in A L I V E, not in the original AU!

Oh yeah the chapter comes with a speedpaint!

[filmbyjy]

COLLIE DUTY

PAIRING > sim jaeyun x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS > being the new CEO to the ‘Sim Corp’ was hard and stressful. jake didn’t have much time to spend with layla and so he decides to get a dogsitter, you. though, you were originally already his secretary. how will dog sitting bring you two closer?

GENRE > ceo! au + secretary! au / angst, fluff. kinda suggestive bc i make a lot of sexual jokes...

FEATURING > taki from &team, ningning from aespa, gaeul from ive, san & hongjoong from ateez and felix & hyunjin from stray kids. (4th gen it let's get it🤪)

SCHEDULE > updated whenever i can bc my schedule do be messed up :'D

TAGLIST > closed

START: 2 July 2023 | END: 16 Jan 2024

PROFILES: SIM(p) Corp | SHINE STARS

ONE: giving no bitches vibe

TWO: demanding and dominant

THREE: hey man, yolo you know?

FOUR: she’s a cute one [written + pictures]

FIVE: so…who pays for child support?

—if the read more messes up then i'm raging—

SIX: tamama bread as compensation

SEVEN: he hissed at me once

EIGHT: CELEBRATION🎉🎉

NINE: so…got bitches?

TEN: should i 🤔 cry?

ELEVEN: uh oh

TWEVLE: pull down your pants

THIRTEEN: they doing the 👉👌💦

FOURTEEN: angry puppy pt 1 [written]

FIFTEEN: angry puppy pt 2

SIXTEEN: let him think

SEVENTEEN: even Layla don’t want him

EIGHTEEN: jake’s rizz [written]

NINETEEN: it’s-

TWENTY: ‘let me take you out babygirl’

TWENTY-ONE: no girl boss

TWENTY-TWO: clearing up mistakes [written]

TWENTY-THREE: may cause mayhem

TWENTY-FOUR: 🐓 plant

TWENTY-FIVE: when jungwon hyung scolds you

TWENTY-SIX: he’s alpha

TWENTY-SEVEN: bag that 🐓

TWENTY-EIGHT: no meat👎🏻👎🏻

TWENTY-NINE: poopoo head

THIRTY: layla the puptress [written]

THIRTY-ONE: sunghoon at 3am

THIRTY-TWO: the old man‼️

THIRTY-THREE: not again

THIRTY-FOUR: fight for him [written]

THIRTY-FIVE: fair reaction

THIRTY-SIX: intimate yet seductive smell

THIRTY-SEVEN: lawsuit

THIRTY-EIGHT: smack

THIRTY-NINE: [bleats pathetically]

FOURTY: sunghoon maid costume

fin

– alternative ending -

got any questions about the cast or the smau?

COLLIE DUTY: asks

[barawrah]

bad day

[fishareglorious]

i do a light chuckle once i remember hofmann and semmelweis are friends but then i remember semmelweis and marcus' suitcase interaction where they talk about her and i am once again inconsolable about this old woman's death

[taeiris]

got possessed (haha get it) and drew this in like 30 mins.

i love sketching like this like just black. yk

ANYWAYS ANGSTY S5 BYLER RAHHH

[winterisol]

im in the trees, im in the breeze (1/?)

Rosquez Future Reconciliation Fic (2028-TBD)

Part Two.

Word Count: 1.9k words Warning(s): Description of motorcycle crash, tones of mistreatment

Valentino feels like he's being haunted by Marc Marquez, like as a cruel joke, as some sort of punishment from the gods no matter how hard he tries, Valentino can never escape Marc. Every corner he takes, every person he meets, Valentino is never free from the reminders. The reminders of his failures, of the worst moments of his life.

The sound of engines roaring filled Valentino’s ears, the screech of new tires echoing across every garage. The scent of gasoline and burning rubber, the sight of a buzzing paddock, it was a place all too familiar.

People often described racing as an addiction, the rush of riding at 300 KmpH, the highs of adrenaline after every win, and all the glamour that came with it. If you asked Valentino if he agreed with this statement, ten or even five years ago he would have said yes, saying that racing was like a drug to him. A want so strong it felt like a need.

But now, perhaps because he is older, racing didn’t feel like an addiction, no it was his home. 

Even after MotoGP, Valentino craved a piece of this familiarity, which WEC filled gracefully. However, just like his time in MotoGP, all good things come to an end. And Valentino was not getting any younger, he achieved enough, winning Le Mans 2026 and 2027. So just like MotoGP he hung up the leathers, bidding farewell to another chapter in his life.

Now he spent his time working on his one true passion. The VR46 Academy.

Currently he stood in the VR46 garage, staring down the timing table. Headphones covering his ears, eyes trailed a VR46 team bike, a number 49 currently displayed on the screen.

Diggia was a strong P3, the chequered flag waving as the garage around Valentino erupted into cheers. But he found his eyes wandering glued to the screen as it changed scenes, drawn back to a familiar number, its bold font and bright red colour almost taunting him.

93. Currently parading around the circuit in his usual P1 with Fermin Aldeguer a far P2. Distantly Valentino thought of Pecco who had fallen all the way down in tenth after an issue on the start. He wondered if Pecco felt bitter as his teammate celebrated, if Pecco kept thinking of what could have been if not for the issue.

Pecco’s teammate took to the new Ducati like a fish to water. In 2025 it was close, but Pecco was more consistent, more confident, and more experienced, at least in Ducati. 

2026 is when his teammate truly took off, having a stunning run of form at the end of the season, winning four races and five sprints, safely ensuring the title in Valencia. And then there was last year, a truly close battle between the two titans of Ducati. Pecco just about taking the title after an unfortunate incident in Valencia, another rider crashing into Pecco’s teammate in corner one, soundly ending his chance at the championship. 

And now, Pecco’s teammate was once again ahead in the championship, a dominant weekend at Sachsenring in contrast to Pecco’s crash in the sprint, a rare mistake from the five time MotoGP champion.

Since the beginning of the season there were the whispers, whispers of Marc Marquez, the youngest MotoGP champion, the new alien, babychamp, whispers of how he would finally surpass Valentino Rossi. How Marquez would finally get the tenth world championship, eight in the premier class, two from below.

But it wasn’t until this weekend, at the end of the race during the post-race press conference someone asked Marquez. 

“Marc, congrats on another victory this season, as we enter our summer break you must be thinking about how if you are able to continue this run of former you’ll surpass Valentino Rossi. Have you spoken to him about this?” The journalist asked.

Valentino pretended not to listen. Even if he was

“Ah, he was my idol growing up, but I do not care about that. Sure of course, it’s nice to have these numbers, but that’s not my goal, or even focus. I’m riding to enjoy winning with a team that has given me a great bike. And, uh no I see no reason to speak to him over something like that.” Marc responded. His face with his typical PR smile and tone of voice all too casual.

 The last part dug a nail into Valentino’s chest, a dull pain as every word processed in his head. Marc was careful with his words, but no matter how vague it was more than clear what Marc Marquez was trying to say.

Marc did not care about Valentino.

-

Valentino came to the next race. 

He had no original plans of being in Austria. No important team events, no big meetings, not even a sponsor to appease. No. Valentino came just to watch the race, or at least that's what he told Pecco when the other man found Valentino standing in his garage wearing a casual grey hoodie and jeans, not a single neon 46 logo in sight.

Valentino tried his hardest to focus on Pecco who was comfortably in P1, noting each lap time and sectors, logging each corner Pecco was still losing time. If his eyes also wandered a little bit more to the left towards the other side of the garage, it was nothing more than coincidence that the garage happened to have a large 93 written on its walls.

Following the end of qualifying Valentino found himself wandering around the paddock. By this time most people went to watch the Moto2 qualifying taking place, leaving the paddock relatively empty. 

Before slipping between the motorhomes and towards his own, he paused to tie his shoes. Looking up, a sense of déjà vu hit him, and there he was, standing in front of the Marquez brothers’ motorhome, inside the sound of a familiar, boisterous laugh bleeding out from its thin walls. Marc has always been a creature of habit

It took everything in his rational brain to quickly pivot away, deciding that he was better off going to his own motorhome, safe from any stupid thoughts. Like talking to Marc Marquez.

Entering his motorhome, he flopped on to his couch, staring at the mini kitchen, letting himself indulge in memories that he usually represses.

Laughter. Warm arms around his waist. Sat on the floor, a warm back pressed into his chest. Smell of xocolata desfeta filling the small space. A warm hand on his cheek, bringing his face closer until-

“Vale, are you going to watch the sprint?” A voice says, breaking the memories away.

“Oh, Celin, why are you here?” Valentino awkwardly stumbles, flustered by the younger boy’s presence.

“I’m going to hope you didn’t mean it in that way. I’m here because I left my airpods.” Celestino snarks back, pointedly grabbing the airpods from his kitchen counter and making his way out of the motorhome.

“Celin, you know I didn’t mean it in that way-” Valentino began.

“It's fine, you probably didn’t know this but I am a rider for KTM Tech3, I tend to show up for something called races.” Celestino cut off, spinning on his heel and marched off, presumably to his garage.

Dropping his head into his hands Valentino sighed. Just another one of his many headaches which has only gotten worse in the past few years has been Celestino. 

When he was younger he was the baby of the academy, the only person who could connect and control the chaos that was Marco Bezzecchi. He had always had an attitude, but Valentino always had a soft spot of the young spitfire.

So when Celestino began to struggle in Moto2 if it wasn’t for Valentino’s soft spot, Celestino would  have probably never made it to the top class.

But he did it, and to his own merit Celestino did it on his own. Finally making it into MotoGP in 2026, the kid did well, even with all the talk about how he was too old to be a rookie. 

Silently Valentino agreed with the criticism, himself shocked by KTM decision to replace Viñales with Celin but he was never going to admit that outloud. 

But their relationship would only take a turn for the worse as Celestino enter MotoGP. Perhaps it was the younger rider’s desire to prove himself to Valentino when all Valentino wanted was for the kid to be safe and happy. Or perhaps it was something more.

Franky said Celestino acts this way because Valentino never let him grow up. Mig thinks it's just in Celestino’s nature to be a little bitch. Bezz doesn’t see a problem with it, saying it's the “fun” part of Celestino’s personality. While Pecco only shook his head disapprovingly, telling Valentino to fix whatever went wrong in their relationship. And Luca, stared Valentino down with a knowing glare.

The truth is probably a mix of all of the above. But Luca’s look is something deeper, a haunting stare that sometimes appears in Valentino’s nightmare. Piercing blue eyes that know too much.

Truthfully Valentino and Celestino relationship took a turn for the worse because Celestino befriended a little Spanish bastard named Marc Marquez.

Unlike Marco, Pecco or even Franky, Celestino never idolised Valentino, of course he respected him, but never had a god worshipping phase like all the others. Perhaps it was because he knew Valentino at such a young age, and could see through the facade.

So when Celestino came bouncing back from a RedBull sponsorship event, eyes glowing as he recounted how great Marc Marquez was, Valentino couldn't help but feel jealous. Soon the random sponsorship event turned into Marc inviting Celestino out to a dirt bike track in Spain, and suddenly Celestino looked at Marc like he hung the stars. Just like Marc used to do to him.

The worst part was that Valentino could see parts of Marc in how Celestino acted. And this scared Valentino more than he is willing to admit.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Valentino exited his motorhome and returned towards the Ducati garage, slipping into Pecco’s garage just before the warm-up laps began.

Pecco was on pole, but Marc was a close second with a stroke of luck dragging both Aprillias up to third and fourth. Behind them was Pedro Acosta in the factory KTM and next to him in the final slot of the second row was Celestino.

Like always Valentino watched the lights carefully, hands flexed as if he was out there on the grid about to make the start. And then the lights went out.

It was Marco who would get the start wrong. His bike going sideways, front tires folding right on the start line as Marco tried to release the throttle. But he was nothing more than a passenger as his bike careened towards Celestino. 

Everything else felt like slow motion,  Celestino’s rear wheel being clipped by the sliding Aprilla, before the bike let go completely, throwing the younger rider into the air. 

Marco was already thrown off his bike, safely sliding on his back, probably leaving this incident with nothing more than a big bruise on his ribs and an even larger bruised ego. Celestino however dove left first, his left shoulder taking the brute of the force as he seemed to bounce along the tarmac, as if he was made of nothing more than rubber, rather than flesh and bone.

Valentino held his breath, fearfully watching as Marco raced towards Celestino, the younger man trying to quickly get up as on track marshals raced towards both of them.

But then the camera widened its shot pulling away from the runoff as it pans to another rider stranded in the middle of the circuit. 

The rider was cladded in the bright red Ducati colours, concerning laying on his stomach instead of his back. And like watching a car crash in slow motion a bike slowly approaches him and even from the screen it was clear the rider got the turn all wrong, and suddenly the bike is getting closer, too close. Until it finally makes contact with the stranded rider’s shoulder, clipping it before the other rider also loses control.

Red Flag.

[writer-room]

Hey. The Finders have no idea that Bonzle was captured. Fritz and Spitz are still waiting, playing video games in the Monastery, for Cole to bring their sister out of hiding now that the blood moon is over. Geo is still sitting by the window, watching and waiting for a dragon on the horizon to return his kid safe and sound. Cole took a very unsure Bonzle, assured them all everything would be okay, and they'd be back soon. He promised he'd find a way to protect her.

Don't think about how they'll smile when Cole finally trudges back, happy to know he's okay. Especially don't think about the Finders stopping, looking out over the group, and how Cole can't look them in the eyes when they turn to him and ask; where's Bonzle?

[unreal-sundogs]

Terrible fucked up creature misses his mommy

[xysidhequeen]

Equilibrium

So the Dead on Main server caused me to spontaneously spawn an entire outline for an AU because I wanted a Dark Danny fic. So. Here's a snippet of what I'm working on.

It had started out subtly. The beginning of the end. 

The GIW had crept into Amity Park, buying up empty office buildings. Making themselves known. 'Researchers' they called themselves. 

They could always be seen whenever there was a ghost attack. Not running, not helping, not hindering. Just. Watching.

The first red flag that became obvious in hindsight was when they'd reached out to the Fentons. When Jack's long winded rants on ghosts didn't scare them away. When they started taking notes.

The second red flag was the government contract sent to the Fentons a week later. 

But still, the GIW didn't do anything. They bought up the empty buildings, filled them with strangers in white suits. Amity Park gradually learned to ignore them. They were harmless, some weird government branch that had an interest in ghosts. It wasn't interesting after months of idleness from them.

Amity Parkers lowered their guard, answered the seemingly innocuous questions posed to them. 'How long have ghosts been attacking?' 'Have you ever been injured by one?' 'Have you noticed anything strange?' They were simple questions, questions any Amity Park resident could easily answer. 

Eventually the GIW became another quirk of Amity. Something expected, normal even.

Then the 'clinics' started popping up. They were free to use, offering simple health care for any Amity Park resident. Common colds, ear infections, broken bones, vaccinations. You had to do a blood test to use them, but no one minded much when they were free. And injuries were so common with the ghost attacks. Ghosts never seemed to care about collateral, except Phantom. But he was the one ghost who protected them, so that was expected. 

Amity Park became welcoming to the GIW. Open to their questions, freely giving information. Even Phantom was willing to stop occasionally when a question was called out to him by one of the white suited men or women. 

Yet still, the government contract remained. The Fentons handing over blueprints of weapon after weapon, prototype designs shipped off. Research papers handed over by the box full.

The GIW presence increased slowly, over the months that became a year. Their clinics and offices multiplied. Empty buildings and shop fronts were bought as soon as they went on sale. Soon it wasn't uncommon to see a person in a white suit everywhere you went. 

No one ever noticed how they never employed Amity Park residents. How they never hired, how there was never a help wanted sign posted or an ad made to ask for workers. No one wanted to look that deep.

Willful ignorance was easier than admitting they'd been invaded.

So the Amity Parkers kept answering questions. Kept visiting the clinics with their doctors who often asked questions unrelated to the reason for visiting. 'Have you noticed yourself becoming stronger?' 'How much sleep do you need, on average?' 'Have your eyes ever glowed?' 'How long can you hold your breath?'. 

The clinics began offering more services, addressing more issues. All still for the small cost of a vial of blood. It became normal to visit a clinic rather than a doctor for anything. Flu? Clinic. Broken bone? Clinic. A nasty burn from an ecto-ray? Clinic. 

Some people started vanishing, but that wasn't unusual in a city. People ran away or died all the time. It wasn't many, really. Maybe a one or two a month. There was no pattern in the victims, so it was presumed they were unrelated. The cops were stumped. No one paid attention to the fact that every single one of the missing had visited a clinic days before they vanished. 

Then came the blackout. Or maybe it came sooner, it was so hard to tell when it started. When it became impossible for anyone in Amity Park to reach out to someone out of it. At first anyone who mentioned it was called crazy, conspiracy theorists. 

But soon it became more obvious. Friends or family out of the city could no longer find any Amity Park resident on social media. Couldn't even find a mention of the city existing anywhere on the internet. They blamed it on the ghosts at first. They did weird things to technology, it must be them. Right?

Then they stopped being able to call out. Cell phones would no longer make or receive calls from anyone who didn't have an Amity number. They started to get restless. 

Then came the roadblocks. Anyone trying to leave Amity found that all roads out were inexplicably blocked. Construction, they claimed. All the roads at once, yes. There had been earthquakes that destabilized the roads all around Amity. So they said. 

They had been trapped, and they never saw the jaws closing on them until it was too late. 

It didn't take long, once the revelation that they couldn't leave, couldn't call for help, spread. 

The military moved in, penning them inside their city. Checkpoints were placed at every road in or out of Amity. You could only leave if you were in the company of a soldier or a GIW operative. 

'Quarantined' they were told. Because of what they weren't told. Something highly contagious and dangerous was all they were given. Hospitals were taken over by men in white suits. Doctors and nurses were sent away, fired. New ones were shipped in, strangers. 

More people started going missing. They all knew who took them but they couldn't say it. Couldn't admit it. Didn't want to. 

Curfews were enforced. No one was allowed out after sundown, businesses had to shut down an hour before. No one was allowed out until dawn, schools were forced to start later. Anyone found breaking curfew was apprehended, sent to a holding facility. They weren't seen again. 

[afewproblems]

Part Three Mean!Eddie Misunderstandings AU

Part One, Part Two, read on Ao3 Here

Thank you everyone for your patience, I am splitting up this last part into two (I know, I know - I'm sorry!!)

***

 The drive home after dropping Robin off was long. She had offered to stay the night again but Steve insisted she go home unless she wanted her parents to throw them and impromptu engagement party after she eventually graduates --Steve still winces when he thinks about Mrs.Buckley cooing about what sweet babies they would make when she thought he had left the other night. 

He pulls into the empty driveway and shuts off the Beemer’s engine; it feels criminal for the sun to still be at full force at this time but at least he's been able to avoid the heat for most of the day. 

And say what you will about the Harringtons, but at least they had invested in AC before skipping town without him.

Once inside Steve hangs his keys on the hook beside the door and heads upstairs to change. He just wants to crawl into bed, hide himself under the covers and sleep after the day he's had. 

Robin did her best to give him a pep talk after their run in with Eddie at Family Video but it had mostly consisted of her brainstorming how to shave his head without implicating themselves. 

It made Steve laugh despite arguing that Eddie's hair was his third best feature and Steve is fairly certain he would be second in line to avenge it next to Eddie.

Steve throws on an old pair of pajamas and a ratty Hawkins high t-shirt from the floor beside his laundry basket. He sniffs it dubiously and throws it on, it could go another day without a wash --it's just him tonight anyway. 

Alone again.

Steve makes his way downstairs and debates a frozen pizza or the leftovers in the Tupperware Mrs.Henderson had forced into his hands before he left their house the other night. 

He'd picked up a lot of recipes from Claudia and learned different ways to stretch an ingredient across multiple meals or even make a single meal last multiple days -with his parents gone so often it had been crucial for him to learn. Steve isn't even sure where they are at this point or if they know about the earthquakes. 

A small part of him hopes they don't know, because if they did and still haven't called or come back to Hawkins to check on him….

Steve quells that line of thought and tosses it into the little box in the corner of his mind. 

Don't think about it. 

Steve rolls his shoulders and opens the fridge before taking out the tupperware and grabbing a plate from the cupboard.

The sudden sound of tires crunching and an engine turning off outside has him looking towards the front entryway, it's definitely in his driveway, but he isn't expecting anyone?

Oh god…what if it's Hopper or Nancy? Another gate? If Vecna's back, they needed him. 

Steve nearly drops the plate in his hands in his haste to get to the door, he manages to put it on the counter before sliding over the hardwood floor as he stumbles into the foyer. 

Steve flings open the door to reveal a nervous Eddie Munson on his doorstep.

"Eddie?" Steve says, his voice pitched with surprise and concern, he looks around for any sign of one of the other kids, "What is it? Is it Vecna? Is anyone hurt?"

Eddie blinks, his eyebrows pop up into his scruffy bangs, "What? No, no man, it's just me".

Steve breathes out a sharp sigh of relief and lets his heart rate slowly calm down, but if it wasn't the Upside Down why the hell was Eddie here? 

Contrary to popular opinion, Steve wasn't actually stupid, he knew Eddie wouldn't just be here for him, he'd made it perfectly clear that they weren't friends.

"Oh," Steve mumbles, still confused, "did you leave something here the other night?"

Eddie tilts his head slightly and his eyebrows fall into the barest furrow, "No Steve, I just, can I come inside?" 

His right hand twitches once before reaching for the door frame as he steps forward.

A million questions nearly burst forth from Steve, what do you want? Did the kids put you up to this? Are you going to say it to my face this time? What do you want from me?

He wrenches them back, shoving them all into that same little box, and instead says, "yeah man," as he steps aside to let Eddie through.

Eddie grins but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, the anxious feeling in Steve's gut, twisting and cold, begins to build again.

All at once Steve is incredibly aware of the fact that he's wearing pajamas and a dirty old t-shirt, he's sweaty and tired from a long day at work and he doesn't have the emotional fortitude to be told off again.

"Hey, Eddie, listen," Steve fumbles through the words, he reaches up to pinch his fingers into his eyes, "if this is about Hellfire, I'll back off, I didn’t mean to," he stops and swallows, searching for what to say. 

Because, what did he even do? It's still not clear and the thought makes him want to grind his teeth.

"To like, interfere with your set up? Or, or, actually, you know what,” Steve's voice suddenly climbs in volume, "I don't know, what did I do Munson?"

Steve raises his hands from his eyes to his hair which he grips harshly with one hand while the other gestures wildly in front of him.

"Why are you here? Why did you come to Family Video,” Steve shakes his head and chews harshly on his bottom lip, “if you hate me, I don't understand why you keep coming around?" 

Eddie is frozen in front of him, a ‘deer in the headlights’ look in his eye, his mouth opens once and closes, but Steve keeps going.

"I mean, was this just some kind of weird game to you? Let's see how much we can stick it to old King-Steve? I heard you that night man," his eyes begin to sting as he yells, his throat tightens and the words waver slightly at the end. 

Steve grits his teeth to keep himself from speaking, from revealing more than he wants to, he hasn't felt like this since Nancy called him Bullshit in the middle of that crowded Halloween party and isn't that thought a punch to the gut.

Steve shakes his head and turns his face away to pinch his nose so harshly he worries it'll bruise.

"So," Steve whispers, letting the fight drain out of him from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet, "what do you want, because I am not really up for whatever this is". 

Eddie isn't looking at him anymore, his face is pointed at Steve but his eyes are trained on a point on the floor between them, his eyebrows furrowed.

Unbelievable.

"Look," Steve breathes out, he reaches up and presses the fingers of his left hand into his eyes, surreptitiously wiping away any evidence of moisture, and gestures behind him at the foyer, "if you want something just spit it out, otherwise I'm tired and I'm going to bed so--"

"I'm sorry" Eddie blurts out, he takes a step closer to Steve who steps back without a thought. Eddie winces at the movement and draws his arms around himself.

Eddie seems to hesitate, his eyes dart over Steve's face and once towards the front door before his expression flattens and his shoulders square in one fluid movement. 

Steve's stomach does a little swoop as he remembers that Eddie nearly sacrificed himself to save Dustin, he wonders if his face held the same expression before he cut the rope.

"I'm sorry for what I said, I," Eddie swallows audibly and shifts his weight from foot to foot, "I was so sure of something for a really long time and it made me act like an ass". 

"Sure of what?" Steve says, his voice nearly a whisper.

"How much do you remember about me from school?" Eddie murmurs eventually, there's a slight tremor running through his hands which tighten their grip on the sides of his jean vest until his knuckles stain white.

Steve shakes his head, there wasn’t much, but by the time he had heard whispers of the name Munson, he had been dealing with Hargrove, and Nancy, and Dustin's attempts at rehabilitating a demo-dog --he'd had more than enough on his plate at the time to worry about some metal-head that stood on tables in the school cafeteria. 

Eddie's breathing stops and starts in short shallow hitching breaths and his face grows even paler than normal, he looks like he's seconds from passing out if Steve is being honest with himself. 

Fuck.

"Hey, hey Eddie, come on breathe man," Steve says sharply, he moves quickly, keeping his hands up ready to catch him, just in case, as Steve leads Eddie towards the kitchen. 

He helps Eddie sit down on a stool by the counter ledge and grabs a glass from the cupboard. Steve flits around the kitchen, distracting himself with getting Eddie water and a cool damp washcloth which he drapes over the back of his neck.

Eddie lets his head droop slightly with the weight of the towel and scoffs, muttering something under his breath; Steve's hackles raise of their own accord as he steps away from him.

"I'm just trying to help man, Jesus," he bites out, resisting the impressive urge to throw the other man out. Steve leans against the wall opposite Eddie instead and scowls. 

"Christ," Eddie snaps as he grabs the cloth and brings it around to wipe his face, "I said, I can't believe I thought you were a Grade-A asshole".

Steve suppresses a flinch at the title, the tightness in his chest returns at full force.

"Thanks," Eddie mumbles, slumping in his seat as the anger seems to drain out of him. Eddie closes his eyes, holding up the towel, "how did you know that would help?" 

He reaches for the glass in front of him, the slight tremble of his fingers the only remaining sign of Eddie's panic.

Steve shrugs, a small part of him wants to tell Eddie about the Russians.

How his sense of touch almost always helped to snap him out of an episode, whether it was Robin’s small warm hand on his cheek when things got too much, or a cool wet washcloth to wipe away the sweat from his brow after a waking nightmare. It was grounding, bringing him back to the present quicker than any other method he and Robin have tried in the last year or so since recovering from their time underneath Starcourt.

Steve’s not quite ready for that conversation though.

Eddie's watching, analyzing him the way Robin does sometimes and Steve realizes he must have been quiet for awhile, Eddie’s big brown eyes trace over Steve questioningly, but he keeps his mouth shut for now. 

"You want to talk about it?" Steve says slowly, changing the subject. He half expects Eddie to tell him to shove it and get up from the stool to leave, pretending this conversation never took place. 

He doesn't though.

Instead Eddie drops the towel on the counter and brings both of his hands to his face. He sits there, hunched for almost a minute solid before letting them drop back into his lap.

Eddie doesn't look at Steve as he starts to speak.

"I've lived with my uncle for a very long time," he says softly, the words almost too quiet for Steve to make out at first, "I moved in with him just before highschool". 

Eddie swallows and licks his lips, "I told you a little bit about my dad already yeah?" 

He raises his eyes to finally look at Steve, who nods again. It feels wrong to speak, like he would be interrupting.

"Well, he wasn't arrested till after I was in Hawkins, but I don't think I really felt safe until the day Wayne got that call". 

Steve's stomach abruptly falls into his shoes. 

Sure, Eddie's story about learning to hot wire had made Steve pause but he hadn't really thought more about that story beyond the ease with which Eddie brought the vehicle to life. He feels his chest twinge with shame this time and steps closer.

"Apparently," Eddie continues, slowly, carefully, "Billy Hargrove had taken it upon himself to tell everyone he could about me and my shitty fuckin' family".

"That uh," Eddie's wary eyes flick up at Steve once more, his expression tight, "that my dad kicked me out, woulda killed me if he could've".

Steve feels a chill roll up his spine at the words.

“And he wasn’t wrong, got all the details right somehow, even the one about me liking--" he trails off before wiping his left hand down his face while the right reaches for the towel again and begins fiddling with it.

Steve makes a noise, something soft and understanding, he takes a step closer to the counter, halting as Eddie looks up with open panic.

"But," Eddie continues with watchful eyes, "up until a few hours ago, I thought…you had done that".

And that is the last straw.

Steve doesn't think this time when he moves, he steps up to Eddie and before he can even open his mouth or flinch Steve has him wrapped in his arms.

It's awkward with Eddie still seated on the stool, his face pressed into Steve's collarbone, but he’s tense and Steve knows he's stopped breathing altogether. 

"I'm sorry about your dad," Steve murmurs into the top of Eddie's wild hair, and he is. Steve knows exactly what it's like to have a dad that uses violence to get his way, that screams first and asks questions later.

Eddie shakes his head once, an incredulous expression pulls at his brow as he leans back slightly to look Steve up and down once more before he grins sharply.

"Yeah well," Eddie hums, "I'm sure he wasn't planning on having a fag for a kid".

Steve pulls away abruptly, but keeps his arms around Eddie's shoulders, his face briefly twisting into a harsh scowl. Steve doesn't catch the terror that flits across Eddie's face as he stands up to his full height.

"Don't call yourself that," Steve says harshly, "and don't use that word around Robin and the kids".

He lets go of Eddie entirely, and begins to pace, "Your dad is a piece of shit, who didn't deserve you and Billy Hargrove is lucky he's dead," Steve growls lowly, he takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment before releasing it slowly through his nose, he needed to calm down.

Like he said, Billy was dead, and the senior Munson was in some prison somewhere where he couldn't get to Eddie anyway, and not every problem required the use of his fists, Robin's words echo in his ear. 

"What?" Eddie blurts out, surprise painting his face. He cocks his head to the side and narrows his eyes at Steve as though he's never seen him before. 

But there's a fire in Steve that has been burning for three years, ever since he tried to apologize to Jonathan and Nancy the very first time, and the flames burned even brighter a year ago when he stopped to take in Robin's pale, desperate, face as she told him about Tammy.  

"And I know Hawkins is shit, trust me," Steve growls, he steps into Eddie's space again, "but there are people here who believe that there is nothing wrong with you, got it? You have us now".

"I, I know," Eddie mumbles, he's still watching Steve with something akin to awe in his eyes but it disappears as quickly as Steve spots it.

"Thank you," Steve says eventually, "for telling me, sorry if I freaked you out just now".

It's quiet in the kitchen for a beat, the only noise is the steady tick of the large wall clock beside the pantry and the hum of cicadas from outside the kitchen window Steve had forgotten to close that morning.

Steve nervously chews his lip, he's ruined it again, his second attempts at being cool about someone coming out to him even worse than the first. Robin had been nice about it at the time -and admittedly neither of them could quite remember the bulk of the conversation, but he does remember telling Robin her first crush was a dud and sounded like a dying Muppet. 

So, he was two for two.

"You're sorry?" Eddie finally croaks, his eyes are larger than Steve has ever seen him and his chest stutters once as he breathes rapidly.

Steve reaches for the discarded cloth on the counter just to keep his hands from reaching for Eddie. 

"You're sorry?" Eddie says again, his voice barely a whisper, "you're unbelievable is what you are".

Oh. 

Steve sighs and blinks once, twice, before closing his eyes, "I know".

"Shut up," Eddie barks, "I'm the one who is trying to apologize and you're being so--"

"I know--"

"No! Let me fucking talk Harrington," Eddie shouts, and Steve feels his teeth click as he snaps his mouth shut.

He braces himself, better to get it all out on the table now, he thinks, let him say his piece and then they can all just move on -he can move on. 

"I don't think I ever understood you, how you fit in with this whole group," Eddie mutters, his face tipped towards the floor, he brushes a handful of curls away from his face as they slide forward.

"I mean, I watched you in action, you ripped a fucking bat in half man," he laughs but his expression is shuttered, almost blank as he counts off on his ringed fingers, "you carried me out of hell, you listen to all the shit the kids say when they tell you stories, do you know how many people would just tune them out? You cooked for my uncle, you--Robin is your best friend? Robin?" 

"Hey,” Steve says sharply with a glare, “layoff Robin, what are you even saying?"

"See!” Eddie throws his hands towards Steve emphatically, a wild look in his eyes,”that's what I’m talking about! Thats, it’s--okay it’s not coming out right," Eddie stands up from the stool but stays beside the counter. 

He huffs out a small quiet laugh and shakes his head, his eyes never once leaving Steve’s face, "you're just, you're not who I thought man".

Steve crosses his arms, wrapping them tightly around his midsection and the Hawkins high logo in faded orange print,"I thought we already had this conversation?"

"Yeah well, I actually mean it this time".

"...Right,” Steve sighs tiredly, it's laughable really, just how wrong he and Robin had been. 

All that time he thought they were growing closer, that Eddie had been his friend. 

All those small moments over the last few months were nothing. Just two people with vastly different expectations of what they meant to one another. 

Eddie’s face twists as the words tumble out at a mile a minute, "no, fuck, Steve, I can't, just--I don't," he grabs two handfuls of hair and yanks, hard, "I came here to tell you that I'm sorry, and I'm fucking it up.”

Eddie takes a deep breath before letting it all out in one smooth motion, "you're amazing, Steve, and I'm kicking myself for not seeing that before”.

He takes a step towards Steve but hesitates,spinning the rings on his fingers.

“I’m just, I’m really sorry and I hope that you can forgive me, that we can get back to where we were before?”

Steve feels himself smile mechanically, his chest tight and cold, he nods once and hears the words, 'yeah man,' leave his mouth. It's as though he's in a fog, everything feels so far away.

The smile Eddie gives him is brilliant, bright enough to light up the kitchen but Steve turns away and sweeps a tremulous hand through his hair. 

"Yeah, Eds, we'll see each other around, we're good".

Eddie's smile falters slightly, but Steve is determined to end this conversation, go upstairs and crawl into bed for a millennia,

"I'll put in a good word with Mrs. Henderson," Steve continues, gesturing towards the abandoned tupperware on the counter, "I think she'd listen if I told her you guys needed a place for Dusty-Bun's club".

Eddie's face falls slightly, "What, Steve--" 

"It'll be great, Claudia makes the best snacks and she honestly has a better basement than the Wheelers --but don't ever say that to Mike or you'll never hear the end of it," Steve says with a half smile as he walks towards the counter to grab the tupperware, he lifts it up to show Eddie before he reaches for the fridge door to put it away.

He's not hungry anymore anyway. 

"But…" Eddie whispers, the tone catches Steve's attention but he can't look at Eddie right now, he just wants to sleep.

"I mean, you could come, you know," Eddie clears his throat and moves, the sound of fabric and shoes scuffing across hardwood makes Steve finally look up.

Eddie is beside him, his expression equal parts wary but hopeful, his big brown eyes fixed on Steve.

I thought Hell would freeze over? Steve thinks to himself angrily before biting the inside of his cheek. 

They've just reached some kind of truce, Eddie apologized for fucks sake, he should just let this go. 

But there is a heat now that simmers in his chest, it makes him want to scream. Steve swallows roughly and pushes the feeling down, trying his best to smother the flames into embers before they engulf him completely.

If friendship is all he is allowed, then Steve can work with that, he just has to reign things in a bit. He’s been playing fast and loose with his heart for so long and that it's become a dangerous game.

"Yeah, sure, I can," Steve mumbles tiredly, "I just have to check my schedule, Keith's been keeping me on my toes lately". 

He shrugs and gives Eddie a wane smile before clearing his throat and turning away, "anyways man, I'm beat".

Steve moves towards the opposite hallway, he feels like he's escaping.

Eddie stands in the kitchen, shoulders drooped, but he nods and stuffs his hands into his pockets. He takes a step towards the foyer before turning sharply around.

"Harring- Steve," Eddie winces, "Steve, I also wanted to say we're sorry about the table, we didn't mean to scratch it all to hell that night and," he swallows roughly, "I can, we can chip in to…help fix it or whatever". 

But Steve is already shaking his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips, "it's cracked actually--"

"What?!"

"No, no," Steve cuts in, he waves his hand to sweep away the panic in Eddie's voice, "Sorry, it's been cracked for awhile, you guys didn't have anything to do with it".

Eddie deflates in obvious relief, he laughs brightly, letting the last of his nervous energy flow out in a cackle.

"Fuck man, thank God, I definitely do not have the money to fix that shit," Eddie sweeps his hands into his curls to pull them away from his face, "why's it still cracked?"

Steve shrugs, "No one's bothered with it before, easier to just leave it I guess," he breathes out sharply through his nose in something like a laugh, "I wouldn't know how to fix it if I tried, never been good at woodworking". 

Steve looks back at Eddie to find him staring, his eyebrows have pinched together and gone is the smile that shone nearly as much as the rings on his hands. 

"Anyway, I'll see you around man," Steve hums, he doesn't need Eddie analyzing him, seeing something in him that he shouldn't. It’s a dismissal, one that Eddie seems to take well, despite the stiffness of his shoulders.

"Yeah, I'll see ya," Eddie says softly over his shoulder as he makes his way out of the kitchen, back towards the front door.

Steve waits until the door has closed, until he hears gravel under tires, until he's sure that Eddie is gone. His chest tightens once more with hot blistering anger that builds in his stomach before overflowing into his chest.

It drives him forward, the anger, the overwhelming heat building up his neck and pounding in his head, he's at the counter all of a sudden.

The plate he was going to use for supper is in his hands.

He raises it over his head and brings it down in a satisfying clash of shattered ceramic that explodes all over the hardwood.

Steve stands there, breathing raggedy in a daze.

Fuck.

The floor is covered in shards of varying sizes, he realizes belatedly he's only wearing socks but the thoughts come slow as though dragging themselves through mud. 

Steve steps over the ceramic and walks to the pantry, he removes the broom and dustpan from the small hanger on the inside of the door.

Steve begins to sweep up the shards into a little pile, wincing as a few pieces here and there cut through the fabric of his socks and into the soles of his feet.

Steve doesn't realize he's crying until he sees the tears drop into the pile of plate shards and dust. Steve scrubs his arm over his eyes roughly and sniffs, his lungs stutter once as he chokes out a wet cough. 

"Get it together," he says sharply to himself.

Steve methodically sweeps the rest of the plate into the dustpan and walks towards the sink before opening the bottom cupboard and tipping the pan into the garbage can. 

He takes off his socks and examines the bottoms, there are a few small pieces of plate but no blood -Steve counts it as a win.

Steve leaves the broom and dustpan out and walks himself and the dirty socks out of the kitchen and up the stairs back to his room, his limbs feel heavy and the steady heat that had crawled up his neck has been replaced by a bone deep exhaustion that he longs to sink into.

Steve closes his bedroom door and steps towards the bed, allowing himself to tip forward and collapse against the comforter.

It's hard to move now, everything feels sore, from the tips of his toes, and the soles of his feet, to the top of his head. It's as though someone stretched him out between their hands and twisted and twisted until there was nothing left inside of him. 

He's empty and that thought is terrifying.

Steve reaches out blindly for the phone on his bedside table, he manages to snag it by the cord and narrowly avoids smacking himself in the face as the hard plastic swings into his hands. He dials the Buckley's home number by memory and waits.

"Hello?" 

"Hey, Mrs.Buckley, can you put Robin on?"

"Of course dear, but we are going to be having dinner soon so not too long okay?"

"Yes Mrs. Buckley,"

He waits, letting his pillow cradle the phone to his ear while the muffled background noise of the Buckley household trickles through the speaker, talking and television and laughter. It's a stark contrast to his own silent home. 

"Steve?"

"Hey Bobby," he nearly whispers into the receiver, he feels himself melt into the mattress at the sound of her voice.

"Steve" Robin grumbles over the line, "I just left you like an hour ago, what's up?"

He chews on his lip and the words for a beat, considering how to even tell her, "Eddie, um, came by".

"What?!" Robin's voice squeals over the speaker and Steve almost drops the phone as he jerks it away from his ear, "what did he want? Did you let him in?"

"Yeah Bobs," he sighs tiredly, "he, he apologized--"

"Steve, we talked about this, you forgive people way too easily--"

"I know, I just…" he doesn't even know how to say it, that a rage burnt him up from the inside out until he was nothing but hollow embers and smoke.

"Robin, I was so angry," 

"Did you yell at him? What did you say?"

"No," he pushes himself up from the pillows, just catching the phone as it threatens to tumble from his shoulder, "he left, he, we talked about going back to normal, he…"

"Steve, what the hell did he say this time, you have to tell me, it's like the platonic soulmate law--"

"He didn't mean it the first time, when we talked in the Upside Down, that he thought I was a good dude, everything I thought for months has been a lie," his voice shakes as he continues, "he thought I spread this awful rumor about him back in highschool and he's never forgiven me for it, but I had no idea and I didn't do it -I know I was the fucking worst back then but Robin I promise you I didnt-"

"Hey, hey, it's okay, do you want me to come over?" 

"No, your mum said you had dinner right away,"

"Steve, you’re way more important than dinner, that's so lame but it's one thousand percent true and I'll come up with something better when I get to your house, I'm leaving now".

Steve smiles as Robin hangs up with a soft, ‘see you in a minute!’ and sets the phone back on the receiver, he closes his eyes and tucks his face into the pillows for just a moment. 

Steve wakes with a start to the sound of feet hitting the stairs two at a time, he looks over at the red numbers on his bedside clock and squints as copper sunlight hits his face through his bedroom window. It's nearly quarter after seven now and the exhaustion that had held his limbs seems to have loosened ever so slightly. 

Steve doesn't move from the bed as Robin opens his door and pads slowly across the carpet. She says nothing in greeting and crawls onto the mattress. Steve shifts slightly to let her wiggle her way in between him and the bedroom wall.

"You asshole," Robin scolds softly, but there's still a smile in her voice, "you didn't even lock your front door, anyone could have come in here".

She wraps her thin arms around him from behind and Steve feels himself melt into the embrace.

"This have anything to do with the broom and dustpan on the counter?" she continues after a beat, "you don't really strike me as the sweeping type, it was like pulling teeth getting you to do it at scoops".

"Vacuuming is better" he mumbles into his pillow.

Robin is warm behind his back, holding him steady, and he finds himself reaching for her hand draped over his chest. The easy affection soothes the remaining burn in his heart.

"I smashed a plate," Steve says so softly he can feel Robin even shuffle closer to hear him. 

She's quiet a moment, but she doesn't move away. If anything, Robin seems to drape herself over his shoulder even more, wrapping him up in a cocoon of warmth. Steve swallows roughly and turns his face further into the pillows. 

"Nothing like a good plate smash," she mumbles sagely into his ear, "I think I read that in a magazine once, buy cheap dishes so you got something to smash when things just get too much," she pauses to sit up and turn him over to face her, "or maybe it was pencils".

Steve snorts as she mimes a violent snapping motion with her hands, and finally let's himself look at her. 

Robin's smiles as his eyes meet her own, but there's still a flicker of worry behind her blue ones that she can't seem to hide. 

And she isn't the only one who is worried.

This wouldn't be the first time he's acted out because of his anger. Steve would be the first person to admit he has a history of impulsive behavior, throwing himself fist first into situations before he can properly think it through. 

He says things in the moment he regrets later. Hell, Steve vandalized private property because he was angry with Nancy for christ sakes.

But this was different, it felt different. This scared him. It was like he had taken a backseat for a moment, disengaged from the world and came back to himself surrounded by shattered ceramic and a deep feeling of shame. 

He wonders, belatedly, if this is how his father felt when he would break things, when he would scream at Steve until he was red faced and shaking, when he would slam doors and smash the flat palm of his hand into walls or dragging his heavy class ring over the previously unblemished wood surface of his grandmother's table. 

It's terrifying to think about.

"You want me to stay?" Robin whispers after a beat.

Steve breathes out sharply through his nose, "I'm sure your parents would love that," he wiggles his eyebrows and attempts a lecherous wink, laughing at the squawk Robin makes.

She grabs one of the pillows and catches him with a face full of cotton batting, "Hey, for a fake boyfriend I could do worse you perv".

It starts an all out war, Steve lets her get him into a headlock before he licks all the way up the offending arm holding him in place, she lets go with a cry of, 'Gross!' and swings the pillow into his face again.

By the end of it they're both laughing so hard they can't even sit up.

"Robin," Steve says softly. 

They're laying on the bed, Steve with his head on the pillow by the headboard and Robin laying with her head closest to the end. She nudges his ear with her toe and he jerks away with a squawk.

"Yeah?" Robin groans as she slides her elbows towards her head to prop her torso up to look at him.

He lets his eyes trace over her, this girl who can make him laugh no matter what, who seems to read his mind with little to no trouble, who is ready to loudly defend him whenever possible.

He loves her so much.

Steve shakes his head, a prickly static charge builds in his hair as it rubs against the pillow, "just, you're just the best person I know," he says eventually, "don't tell Dustin I said that, but I'm glad I met you".

Robin mimes pulling a zipper closed over her mouth and flicks away the metal pull. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are suspiciously shiny at the tender admission.

"You absolute goof, do you keep onions under your bed," she snarks after wiping her eyes with her hand, she takes her wet fingers and wipes them off on his pajamas. 

"I'm glad I met you too, and if you want to talk about," she half shrugs and tips her head towards his bedroom door, "you know, the plate thing, I'm here".

She reaches for his ankle resting next to her elbow and gives it a squeeze, "God, all the hair on your legs, it looks like you have a second set of pants on".

"Can't even be nice to me for longer than five minutes," Steve mutters as he steals the offending leg to sit up on the bed.

"I didn't bring anything," Robin says suddenly, looking over at the glaring red numbers on Steve's alarm clock on his side table, "what's a gal gotta do for some food and some pj's?"

Steve rolls his eyes and uncrosses his legs and throws them over the side of the bed, sitting up while he's at it, "you figured out a Russian spy code with your little genius ears but you couldn't snag a change of clothes before you left?"

"Hey, you called me, I came running," Robin tells him firmly, she sits up and scooches over to sit beside him with her legs draped over the edge and their thighs pressed together.

"I know Bobby, I knew you would," he says softly as she leans her head to rest on his shoulder, the weight at his side is warm and familiar and pulls a smile at the corner of his mouth.

Steve lets his head loll to the side to rest on Robin's, his limbs loose as a tension he hadn't realized had been trapped in his shoulders flows out of him.

***

Over the next few weeks things begin to ease back into some semblance of normal.

It's not easy.

Steve ends up having to trick the kids into going to the old ice cream parlor where Eddie is waiting for them to make a separate apology for their last Hellfire meeting. 

Steve insists they're fine to the four sets of  disbelieving eyes that scowl at both of them, he and Eddie have buried the hack-saw and there's nothing more to say.

"It's hatchet, Steve," Dustin says with exasperation and barely concealed glee, “you buried the hatchet, sometimes I think you say these things on purpose".

"Oh Dusy-bun," Steve hums, reaching out to catch Dustin with his arm and drag him into a loose headlock, "I absolutely do it on purpose".

It's a little awkward, Will still seems a bit wary of Eddie, but Mike, Dustin, and Lucas obviously missed their Dungeon Master.

Steve can't help the clawing guilt that sits heavy in his stomach from being at the center of their little fight, but a small irritable part of him is envious of how quickly they all fall back into step with one another without missing a beat.

"This place is alright," Lucas says once they've all settled into a hideous lime green booth with their treats, "but the butterscotch is shit compared to Scoops".

He's frowning at the half eaten cup in his hands like he's tempted to toss it right then and there.

"Ice cream is ice cream," Mike scoffs with a roll of his eyes, he reaches for the cup which Lucas snatches back just out of reach from grabby fingers.

"Hey, I never said I wouldn't finish it--"

"You're practically giving it away dude, come on!" 

Eddie smiles and seems to finally relax into his seat, he leans across the table closer to Steve and Dustin and whispers conspiratorially, "What the hell is scoops?"

"Remember Starcourt?" Dustin chirps around a mouthful of Rocky Road before Steve can say anything, "Steve worked there, and Robin, that's how they met". 

Eddie tilts his head and frowns, his eyes pan back and forth between Dustin and Steve, "the mall that burnt down?"

Steve tenses, his right hand curls into a fist beneath the table while the little wooden spoon in his left hand threatens to snap between his fingers resting on the sticky table top.

Eddie glances at him curiously before looking back to Dustin who continues to speak, oblivious to the strangers around them.

"Oh yeah, that wasn't a fire--"

"Dustin," Steve snaps, more loudly and harshly than he intends, but it catches the teens attention. Steve shakes his head once and gestures around the shop, they're one of three full tables of people but even still, their voices have been carrying all afternoon.

Dustin has the good graces to look sheepish before scowling at the ice cream in his hands, "no one's listening--"

"Not here--" Steve manages to spit out between his teeth before all four kids are arguing at the top of their voices.

"Don't yell at Dustin!" 

"No one's even in here!"

"What, we can't even talk about this with each other now?"

"Fuck off Steve--"

Steve almost laughs, it's the first time in two weeks the kids have acted like their old selves instead of walking on eggshells around him, weighing their words carefully, avoiding bringing up Eddie or Hellfire and trailing off when he enters a room.

"Hey," Eddie says sharply, "layoff your babysitter alright, Jesus Christ guys".

And suddenly the spell is broken.

Lucas slowly puts down his cup and Mike rolls his eyes but seems to deflate in his seat, leaning into Will who frowns at Eddie slightly. Dustin crosses his arms across his chest and glares with a mutinous expression at the table. 

Dammit.

"Okay, everyone relax, finish up and let's go," Steve sighs. He reaches over and tugs on Dustin's ever present cap with his right hand while the left hand, still holding his spoon, snags a little taste of Lucas's cup of butterscotch. 

All of the kids start yelling again, but this time laughter rings out as the earlier tension melts away. 

Steve looks at Eddie who smiles widely at him, relief evident in his big brown eyes; he can't stop the small grin that takes over his own face at the sight, even if it does make his chest ache. 

They leave shortly after, the kids prattle on about some sci-fi movie that's caught their eye for the next trip to the Hawk Theater. Dustin argues that sequels never hold up while Will insists that as long as there are Aliens, as the title suggests, it should be just as good as the first.

Steve and Eddie follow just behind the group, Eddie slows down to walk in step with Steve. 

"Sooo that was a little…intense," Eddie says, it's phrased more like a question and the way he's looking at Steve, like he's waiting for an answer for why the air in the ice cream place seemed to shift. He reaches for Steve's elbow with soft fingers that curl around and press into his denim jacket. 

The kids have already piled into the beamer, Lucas snags the front seat since it's his turn --much to the irritation of Mike who 'never gets front seat dibs!'

Eddie swings in front of Steve slightly, letting his hand maintain contact at Steve's elbow, grounding them both.

Eddie's eyes narrow, just enough that Steve catches it, "You just…seem a little on edge or something".

Steve shugs and carefully pulls on a small neutral grin. It's comfortable, he's worn it before.

"Yeah man," he looks away from Eddie's concerned gaze, "it's all good, I'll see you later alright?

He keeps the tone bright. It's not his customer service voice, this is something he's carefully honed over years of sports injuries, smiling at teachers as they scolded him, or lying through his teeth to his dad after a particularly nasty screaming session.

It's light, and something he's never had to break out with Robin.

A small part of Steve was hoping he'd never have to use it on Eddie, but here they were.

"I gotta get the kids back anyway," it's not quite a lie but it's only three in the afternoon, and the words only seem to push Eddie a little further as his fingers curl more firmly around Steve's elbow.

"Steve," Eddie says again, but Steve is already pulling himself out of Eddie's grip, his hand falls away to hang limply at his side, silver rings glinting in the midafternoon sun.

Steve waves and makes his way to the driver's side door, ignoring the way Eddie's eyes follow him and the downward curve of his mouth.

He opens the car door and lets it shut, allowing the chaos of noise and teenage yelling drown out the guilt that followed him into the car.

"So," Dustin says from the back as Steve buckles himself in,"are you sure you guys are good?" 

Steve pauses for just a second before he blinks and puts the key in the ignition, "yeah, 'course man, why wouldn't we be?" 

Dustin is quiet for a moment, all of the kids are. 

There is a strange, somber heaviness in the vehicle as Steve makes his way down mainstreet. 

Mike seems off in his own stormy little world, glaring at the hands in his lap while Will looks out the window with a sad frown. Steve feel's Dustin and now Lucas watching him, their gaze enough to make him itch. 

"You guys just seem different," Dustin insists, he crosses his arms over his seatbelt and leans back into his seat. 

"You guys don't touch like you used to," Lucas says matter of factly.

Dustin snaps his fingers and leans forward once more to grab the back of Lucas's seat, "that's what it is! It's been driving me crazy!"

A dull ache throbs in Steve's chest as the kids continue to talk over one another, the volume gradually rising in the small space.

"Okay, first of all, I will crash this car if you all keep yelling," Steve barks over the four incessant voices, "Jesus, second of all, we don't touch each other--"

"Yes you do!"

"Um, have you met yourselves?"

"Jesus, it's like you're a pair of Octopuses!"

"If you're both sooo good why didn't you guys hug goodbye like you used to?"

"Enough," Steve says sharply, he signals right and slowly pulls off to the side of the road, letting the crackle of gravel fill the now silent vehicle. Steve grips the steering wheel hard enough that his knuckles have faded to white to hide the shaking of his hands.

"Look," Steve sighs, he lifts one hand away from the steering wheel to scrub harshly over his face. It catches on the hint of stubble on his cheeks.

"I appreciate you guys looking out for me, but I am an adult, and I can take care of myself".

"What about when Max saved you from Billy?" Mike scoffs, he ignores the elbow that Will throws into his side. 

"Or when Erica and I had to rescue you and Robin from the Russians?" Dustin challenges with equal ferocity. 

"That was different," Steve says with a scowl and a roll of his eyes, "I only got into those situations because I was looking out for you shitheads--"

"Exactly!!" Dustin crows with a smirk.

"Us shitheads stick together!" He raises his eyebrow like he's already won the argument and crosses his arms over his chest. 

Steve sighs and lets his head tip back into the headrest, he looks into the rear view mirror at the three sets of eyes staring back at him before tipping his face to the side to see Lucas's unwavering gaze from the passenger seat. 

"If I promise you guys that everything is fine for now, you'll drop it?"

The kids are quiet for a moment before Will says, "Party meeting, plug your ears Steve".

Steve considers just putting the car back into drive and continuing on their way, ignoring the ridiculous request. 

But it's Will, and the youngest Buyers has finally realized his ability to weaponize his big hazel eyes and bowl cut to get whatever he wants.

"How is this my life," Steve mutters under his breath but does as he's asked. 

He raises his hands to cup over his ears, muting the following low chatter around him. Steve hums a few bars of Dancing in the Dark to make whatever they're saying even more indistinguishable, because he's a damn good babysitter, before Lucas taps his elbow.

Steve shifts in the driver's seat, turning so he can see all of the beaming faces staring back at him. He feels his eyes narrow in suspicion.

"We'll drop it," Dustin tells him with a smile that doesn't waver once as he looks over to Lucas and then Will, Mike rolls his eyes though the smallest of grins tugs at the corner of his lips.

"If you agree to host Hellfire again," Lucas says with a sly smile, holding his hand out with wiggling fingers for Will to match the corresponding move with his own confident hand. 

"Guys…"

"Come on Steve, you've got the best place for it and we'll make sure you have a good time!" Dustin leans across Mike who huffs and pushes him away, it doesn’t stop Dustin from clasping Steve’s driver's seat with his hands and squeezing the leather by Steve’s shoulder.

Steve holds in a scoff, doubting that they can really guarantee such a thing, especially if Eddie and the other Hellfire members will be there, but the kids are all doing their best impression of the youngest Wheeler, Holly, when she begs for piggyback rides.

"Fine," Steve huffs out, he feels a small smile pull at the corner of his mouth as the kids cheer. 

"Yeah, yeah, if you really want to make me happy, one of you should learn to fuckin' drive".

Taglist: @zerokrox-blog @samcoxramblings @thosemessyvibes @liketheocean @vampireinthesun @themostunoriginalpersonever @merricatty @hyperfixationgoddess @hippieg1rl420

And thank you to @flowercrowngods for your encouragement, I hope the stobin fluff makes up for this not being finished yet!

[otrtbs]

having so much fun w the last winterlude chapter james is soooOoooOoo ykwim? HE’S SO!!!!!!!!!!!

[cruilty-ink]

Is this right?

The beginning, Prev, next

Masterpost

the memories are starting to get more vibrant

[leiawritesstories]

That Well Runs Deep

@throneofglassmicrofics July prompt: "horizon"

a completely random addition to The Rancher AU ehehehe!!! inspired by "Cowboys Cry Too" from Kelsea Ballerini & Noah Kahan ;)

word count: 725

warnings: references to bad upbringing, emotions, angst/comfort

enjoy!!!

(also!! @writtenonreceipts happy birthday!!!! all the best to you friend :D)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aelin woke up to bright unfiltered sunlight, rumpled bedsheets, and a distinct lack of her favorite cowboy lying next to her. A quick glance at the clock atop the dresser informed her it was seven-fifteen in the morning, and she relaxed a bit, knowing that Rowan was probably out in the corral with the colts. She pushed herself out of bed, got ready for the day, and headed downstairs to find her travel mug of coffee filled and waiting for her on the kitchen counter, right next to a plain yellow sticky note--the only kind Rowan would buy--that bore a simple Love you, Fireheart.

She smiled as she tucked the note into her wallet, adding another love message to her collection. Her cowboy might be a man of few words, but the ones he gave her were kept close to her heart at all times. Blowing a kiss in the general direction of the corral, Aelin left Rowan's cabin, locked the door, climbed into her car, and drove off towards town. Much as she wanted to throw on jeans and an old t-shirt and watch her cowboy train the colts, she had a diner chain to run.

That evening, as the Wyoming sunset chalked smudges of orange and gold through the scattered clouds, she pulled back up to the cabin and found it...empty.

She glanced at her phone, blinked, and looked at the date again. June 24th.

Oh.

Locking the front door behind her, Aelin jogged back down to her car, pulled out of the gravel driveway, and headed southwest, towards the corner of the ranch that overlooked the river. When the dirt road became too narrow for her car to pass through, she pulled over, parked, and headed down the worn treads of the path on foot. Years of footsteps and horse treads had worn this path into the tall grass, and it was barely visible in the fading evening light. The tracks ended at a section of weathered wooden fencing, and it was atop that row of wide, long-since smoothed fence planks, that Aelin found her cowboy.

Rowan slumped atop the fence, his back half-leaning against one of the vertical support posts, his legs dangling off the fence that separated his ranch from unclaimed territory. The last embers of sunset brushed gently across his weary profile, lighting him and the river below in soft splashes of crimson.

Silently, Aelin climbed up onto the fence beside her cowboy, gently placing one hand on his tattooed right wrist. He didn't move, but as her hand slipped down, his fingers curled around hers. She tucked herself into his side, sliding her free arm around his waist, and his breath came shuddering out in a long, unsteady exhale as his body melted against hers.

"'M'sorry," he whispered, his voice a hollow rasp as the horizon darkened into a spill of blue-black, star-dappled night. He turned his head to meet her gaze, and she freed her hand to reach up and brush away the tears tracked down his tanned cheeks.

"It's not your fault, love," she murmured.

His shoulders shook as he leaned into her soothing touch. "I miss her so much." Twelve years ago to the day, Rowan had lost his mother, who had been the shield between her son and his father's temper.

"I'm sure she's looking down with so much pride in you," Aelin said softly. She nudged Rowan's side, coaxing him to follow her as she climbed off the fence. "She loves you so much, Ro."

"She'd love you just as much, darlin'." He wrapped his arms around Aelin's waist, pulling her close to him as he tipped his head back and gazed into the stars. "Just wish it didn't hurt so much."

Aelin rose up onto her tiptoes and placed a kiss right over Rowan's heartbeat. "I know." She reached up and cupped his jaw, tilting his face back down towards hers. "Cowboys can cry too, y'know."

He sighed heavily, the tension gradually seeping from his body as she held him. Under the cover of the night, she led him down to her car and drove back to his cabin, keeping one hand linked with his, rooting both of them in the security of each other's presence. And he finally fell asleep wrapped in her arms, surrounded by the love she gave him.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@renxzs

[linkyychan]

[MISSION : FAILED]

💜

[pixlokita]

"oops sorry im away i just killed greggory heehoo 🤭" you did NOT just hit us with that in the tags gfhdjksl

See you next week (ﾉ≧ڡ≦)✨