#fic: long way home

[sparklingchim]

excuse me, ms. Darly but could we get a short lwh!fam like this https://www.instagram.com/reel/C5a8Ngzt3Xg/?igsh=MTYydm1xamt0eXo2Mg==

pairing: dilf!jungkook x reader

summary: jungkook has a habit of snoring, and nabi had enough of it.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Nabi is a very clingy baby.

Very cuddly, too.

So most nights, she somehow finds her way into your and Jungkook’s bedroom.

It's almost like she has a sixth sense for when you're about to settle into bed, starting to cry and whine to get your attention.

And almost always, Jungkook comes back with Nabi cradled in his arms, her fake tears still glistening in her eyes as he carries her into bed.

You remind him that it's not good to let her get used to this habit, and he always defends it by saying he can't resist letting her sleep with you both. "Her big tired eyes melt me into letting her sleep with us."

Jungkook finally gets to experience firsthand what it means to turn putty at the sight of round, sparkly doe eyes.

And just as Nabi has a habit of wanting to sleep between her parents, Jungkook has a habit of snoring. Every night. Though he claims he doesn't snore as loudly when you complain and you always give him an incredulous look, snarling back, "how would you know?"

All three of you are cuddled up in bed, Jungkook’s snores richocheting off the walls as you're deep in sleep—except for Nabi.

She's squirming in bed, the covers getting pulled and tugged with the movements of her little body, which causes you wake up. Your eyes flutter open.

You just catch the moment when Nabi raises her tiny hand and smacks it against Jungkook’s cheek just enough to create a soft echo of the slap.

Jungkook's snoring comes to an abrupt halt.

He grumbles, shifting to adjust his position and escape whatever just hurt him, all while keeping his eyes closed.

You stifle a giggle as you watch him groggily scratch his cheek. Nabi's big, curious eyes drift to your smiling face, and she wriggles her way back to you.

"Good job, Nabi," you whisper, pulling her close. She snuggles into your side, her little fingers curling around your chest as she nestles in.

"Did she just hit me?" Jungkook mumbles, still half-asleep, his voice thick with confusion.

You laugh softly, brushing a hand through Nabi's silky hair.

"Your snores annoyed her," you say, giggling. "See, you are very loud."

"Nabi's ruthless," he huffs.

Jungkook cracks one eye open, glancing at the two of you cuddled up together.

"Traitor," he mumbles, pouting in mock betrayal. But he quickly switches back, leaning in to drop a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Sorry, baby. Dad didn't mean to be so loud. I'll let you sleep now, yeah?"

Nabi lets out a little yawn, her tiny mouth stretching wide as she snuggles deeper into your side. The sight of her small, sleepy face and the way her eyelashes flutter as she fights to keep her eyes open melts both you and Jungkook.

Jungkook shifts to make more room, his arms wrapping around you and Nabi in a protective, cosy embrace.

You rest your head against Jungkook’s shoulder, the three of you nestled together in a perfect cuddle pile. As Jungkook’s breathing gradually synchronizes with Nabi’s, he kisses your forehead, his touch tender and loving.

"Love you, and I'm sorry."

"Love you, and it's okay," you whisper back.

[idk-bruh-20]

Irondad fic ideas #109

Fic where Wanda does not get snapped. Westview happens during the blip.

At some point before Westview, Wanda visits Tony at the lake house (maybe she wants him to make the government give her Vision's body back). Tony, deep in his grief and just wanting to be with Pepper and baby Morgan, doesn't help as much as she wants him to.

Before leaving, already very unhinged, Wanda offers to take Tony's memories of Peter away. She phrases it like an act of compassion, since she can sense the depths of his pain. But Tony perceives it as a threat. And it's one that, especially during and after Westview, he knows she's powerful enough to achieve

So, he calls a wizard. He begs Wong to do a spell to protect his memories of Peter from ever being harmed by magic

Fast forward to NWH. Tony has been in a coma ever since the battle with Thanos. He finally wakes up, and he's so grateful to be with his family, but he doesn't understand why a certain teenager is not there

It doesn't take long for Tony to realize that no one else remembers Peter. May is dead. The kid is alone, erased, forgotten by everyone

But not by him. Because of a witch's threat and his own paranoia, his memories are safe.

And now it's time to go get his kid

[theangrypomeranian]

Chapter 17: Home

Summary:

“That bathroom,” he whispered. Tina nodded again, her eyes staying on his. “Yes. One second I was in our bathroom and the next–” “You were there.” His head was reeling and holy crap that hadn’t just been in his head, it was real, she’d been there and he had almost touched her. For a few moments they just sat there, staring at each other. Her hands were tight on his wrists and his thumbs brushed gently over her cheeks. “You were there,” he murmured in awe. “The whole time…whenever I needed you…” “And you were there,” she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes as her mouth turned up in a smile so bright he thought he might go blind. God, what an amazing last sight he’d have. “How is this even possible?” Now it was his turn to smile, his hands going to her cup her elbows and pull her closer. “Don’tchu see, baby? What we have,” his arms went around her to press her against his chest, “this shit is cosmic. We were always meant to be. The universe knew that and it made damn sure that we did, too.”

Read the rest of chapter 17 here.

[analogwriting]

The Other Side of Paradise

Chapter One: Poplar St

Killer x gn!reader word count: 1.6k first|next a/n: i know this is shorter pls bear w me as i get back into the swing of things trustttt the rest will be longer kinda laying the land a bit

As you pulled up to your house, loud music was playing from the closed garage; as it always did. You climbed out of your car, stretching a bit before heading inside. Once inside, you headed down the hallway to the door leading into the garage. You couldn’t open the large door as things were hanging on it and it wasn’t like there was any room to park in there anyway. It was more of a large hangout space than a place to park your vehicle. Besides, you had plenty of driveway to park in.

As you opened the door, the music grew tenfold. You didn’t mind, however. It was something you were used to at this point. Kid had done exactly what he had set his heart on all those years ago. He formed his band with your friends once everyone reached their teens. He was the vocalist, sometimes playing the guitar. Heat was the lead guitarist and backup vocals. Wire was the bassist, sometimes playing the keyboard. Killer played the drums, also helping write a lot of the lyrics and composing the music.

They also were pretty good. They traveled to nearby cities and towns, playing in all kinds of places. Maybe you were biased, but you just knew they were going to be signed any day now.

The moment the door opened, Killer looked back at you, a large smile forming on his face as he kept playing. The others hadn’t noticed you as they were facing away and too lost in playing to really notice, but Killer always could tell when you walked in. It was the deep connection the two of you shared. At least that’s what you told yourself. He was your boyfriend after all, even after all these years.

You walked over to him with a large smile, leaning down and kissing him softly. He didn’t miss a beat, still playing his drums as he kissed you. The two of you knew better than to interrupt practice, Kid had yelled at you plenty of times for it. So, Killer became very skilled at multitasking. Well, at least in the form of kissing you while he played.

You pulled away, smiling at him for a moment, him returning the smile. You kissed him one more time before letting him be. You had homework and he needed to focus. When you turned, you noticed Hop sitting on the couch, reading with a sleeping Dive slung across her lap. You snorted at the sight, settling in on the other side of the couch.

Hop looked at you, waving. You returned the wave before diving into your homework, wanting to finish it before practice ended. You couldn’t exactly talk when the music was as loud as it was. 

During the duration of their practice, people came and went. Gig and Pomp stopped by, dropping off some snacks before heading off to their afternoon classes. Hip and Bubblegum popped by, sitting and chilling for a while before heading back out as well. 

That’s the way your house worked nowadays. Your mother passed a couple years ago, leaving you the house and a good enough inheritance to keep you comfortable. Kid had always lived with you and your mother, so of course he was always at the house. Killer had stayed with you most of the time after your mother passed, knowing how close the two of you were. It had been rough of you. He had also been close with her, of course. He eventually just…never left. He had a spare key since your teens, so he was already a part of the household basically.

Your friend group had grown so much and with everyone having crazy schedules, it wasn’t like you could just…hang out in a big group like you used to. Sure, sometimes the stars aligned and you were able to have some kind of get together with everyone, but this more casual way was easier for everyone. People came and went, hanging out for as long as they liked or as little as they liked. The fridge and cabinets were always full of snacks and food that people brought. There were different game consoles, tv screens, the likes spread throughout all the rooms. It was just one giant hangout spot and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You left the backdoor unlocked at all times. You had a fenced in backyard, but there was always someone you trusted at the house at all times so you didn’t have to worry otherwise. Besides, you’d been in this neighborhood for so long, you knew everyone.

You suddenly felt strong arms wrap around you and lift you up. You slowly woke up, not even realizing you had fallen asleep. “Didn’t mean to wake you,” Killer’s voice was low as he pressed a kiss to your temple. You yawned, shaking your head. “It’s alright. I didn’t even realize I fell asleep. How long was I out?” You snorted, looking up at him and kissing him.

“Not too long. We just finished up.”

“How was practice?” You looked over, seeing that Hop and Dive had left. It was just you and the four who were just playing.

“It went good as usual, but there’s something missing,” Kid said, drawing your attention. You immediately rolled your eyes, knowing exactly where this was going.

“Tungsten, I’ve already told you. I’m not joining.”

Kid groaned loudly. “But why not! Your soft vocals would provide the coolest dynamic!” He flopped into the recliner across from you, slightly pouting.

“You know why.” You rolled your eyes, folding your arms. “Singing and all that in front of you guys and our friends is one thing, but it’s completely different going on stage in front of tons and tons of strangers.” You shook your head. “The pressure is too much.”

“Laaaaaame.” He huffed, cracking open a beer and drinking it.

“You guys are doing just fine without me.” You shook your head.

“We’d do better with you,” Kid was definitely pouting at this point. It was like he was still a child sometimes. Always pouting when he didn’t get his way. He decided to switch topics, talking to Wire about something or another, you stopped paying attention as you rested against your boyfriend.

“I love it when the light sits on you just right,” Killer randomly mused. You looked at him, confused by his words. He always said the most random things, but they always ended up being really sweet.

“What are you saying right now?” 

He handed you his phone and you slowly took it, still unsure what he was getting at. The lockscreen woke up as you held it and it was a picture of you. He had clearly just taken in as you were wearing exactly what you did in the picture. You were also asleep. He was right - the light that came through the highset windows in the garage hit you just right, illuminating you in a way that made you look like a sleeping angel.

You immediately felt your face heat up and he spoke again, “Good picture, isn’t it?” He was right. It was a good picture. It was almost unbelievable that it was you. A lazy smile stretched across his face. “Still doesn’t compare to the real thing, though.”

“That’s it! I’m not watching this!” Kid stood up, flinging his hands in the air and heading inside. “I’m seeing if anyone happened to make some cabbage rolls.”

“I was gonna make some tonight!” you called as he left. You weren’t even sure if he heard you. You snorted, shaking your head.

“Oh, by the way. Be ready on Friday.” You looked to Killer with a confused expression once more. He was really pulling things out of thin air today. He was just hitting you left and right today. “What’s Friday?”

“We’re gonna have a date night. It’s been a couple weeks and I can’t remember the last time we went out - just us.” 

He was right. Usually when you went out, someone was always tagging along. You were typically always accompanied by one or more of your friends.  You didn’t hate it, but sometimes you just wanted it to be just the two of you. “I have some news to share, too.”

You immediately perked up. “What news?” You searched his face as if it were written on him somewhere.

“I’ll tell you Friday.” He shrugged, a smirk on his face and you groaned. “Killi, that’s not fair. That’s three days away! You’re killing me!” You flopped against him, folding your arms and pouting.

You might not have been much better than Kid sometimes. It seemed some things ran in the family.

“Oh, you’ll be just fine.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I figured we could go to a movie then go to that new smoothie place you’ve been wanting to try.” 

Your face brightened as you sat up, turning to face him. “Really?” A new smoothie place had opened up downtown and you’d been dying to try it. You wanted to try it with Killer because you always tried new places together, but Kid had been hounding on practice even more as of late, so you didn’t get to see Killer as much.

Killer chuckled softly, nodding. “Yes, really. We can go to the movies right after you get out of class. Or we can go to the smoothie place first then go to the movies.”

“I like that plan better. A smoothie after a long week of school work sounds like a good treat.” You grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck and relaxing against him.

He grinned right back. “It’s a date then.” Then he kissed you, leaving you all sorts of excited for Friday.

first|next

[morganski-19]

I Don't Know Which Way's Home

Chapter 19: Nightmares

ao3 link, Part 1, Part 18

tw: minor descriptions of physical assault, PTSD panic attack, car crashes, and emetophobia (very minor description)

Present Day, June 1986

It’s been three weeks since the court ruled in Steve’s favor, and he still doesn’t quite believe it. Doesn’t believe it when his lawyer calls to tell him that the payment will be coming to him soon. Doesn’t believe it when that money gets transferred to him. When he pays his lawyer and it’s all over.

Steve doesn’t have to fight with them anymore. Have to think about them anymore. They have absolutely no power over him whatsoever.

He doesn’t know what to do with that really.

All his life, he’s been playing the part designed for him. Done what other people wanted, doing things for himself later. In secret. Now that most of it was out, the pressure gone, he doesn’t know what to do anymore.

Steve gets up to go to a job that he didn’t want in the first place. Really only got because his dad wanted him to get a part time job as punishment for not getting into college. Following Robin after the mall blew up. It was all just stops on a train that he was given the ticket to.

Now he switched trains on his own accord. Went in a different direction. One that he chose because he wanted it. Sounded like a life he wanted to live. Sounded like there were other passengers on the train that might get off at the same destination. Want to spend time with him as they traveled. Get to know him. Maybe even love him.

And that’s what happened. He still doesn’t know how, or why. What to do with it. But he’s learning to.

If anyone were to ask him what he was going to do with this life he has now, with the winnings, he wouldn’t know. He doesn’t know what he wants to do tomorrow let alone in the next five years. The picture he has in his head looks the same as it is now. Happy with everyone he loves around him, looking exactly the same.

But that’s not what’s going to happen.

The kids are going to grow up, change, go off to school. Julie will too, leaving his house empty again. Robin will eventually go to a school that can give her more than a community college can. People in the town will continue to outgrow it.

While Steve continues to stay in the same spot forever. Rooted in the same place that hurt him so much. The same place that helped him grow into someone he’s actually proud of. Showed him the life he could have if he was just brave enough to go and catch it.

Now that he has it, it’s all he’s ever wanted. He’s not ready to let it go quite yet.

“Do you think you could teach me how to drive?” Julie asks Steve over dinner.

Steve freezes in shock, head shooting up to look at her. “Yeah, sure, I guess.”

He’s known her less than a year but the question still makes him feel so old. Feeling like he watched her grow up as she went through so many changes. So many emotions. Slowly formed into the person she is now right in front of him.

“Cool.” Julie says, going back to her dinner.

Steve wonders how long she’s been wanting to learn how to drive. She’s been able to for over a year now, just never got around to it. With the nature of her mother’s accident, he wasn’t sure when she would want to ever learn. If she would want to.

“Is there a reason you wanted to learn?” He asks, trying to sound nonchalant.

Julie shrugs. “Just haven’t yet. And I’ve been thinking about maybe getting a part time job, saving to try and get a car of my own before I go to college. I know it’s still a year away, but cars are expensive and minimum wage is shit.”

College. Something he knew was coming but was hoping it could be a little farther away. He wonders if this is how every parent feels. Wishing their kid would just stay in one place for a little while longer and stop growing. Stop changing. So they don’t have to change with them.

He’s not a parent. Not yet, and not for a long while. But he can’t help but feel some sort of protective instinct over these kids that changed his life. Want to look out for them in every situation, make sure that nothing ever hurts them. He knows that’s not how life is supposed to go. Kids are supposed to make mistakes and learn from them. That’s the way it went for him, so it’s the way it will go for them.

He just didn’t want it to.

“I don’t know why you’re so worked up about this,” Robin comments while unboxing the newest releases. “We all knew this day would come someday.”

Steve sighs, leaning on the door of the stock room. “I just wanted that someday to take longer to actually get here. It’s like the last few years went by so fast and got so muddled in my mind that I forgot time kept moving.”

“I get that. But,” she places the last tape on the cart and turns to him, “just because the kids are getting older, doesn’t mean that they’re leaving.”

They are in a way, though. Even though he knows that won’t be permanent. That they won’t forget about him the way other people have, it still makes the anxiety trapped in his chest start to rise. The instinct to hold on tight and never let go so much stronger.

“This town is too small for them. We both know that. They are going to go do amazing things, while I’m still here doing the same mediocre things I always do.” He holds the door open for her as she rolls the cart through.

“Have you ever thought about doing other things?”

Steve pauses in front of the cart, making Robin run into him. “What?”

“You’re acting like you can’t do other things. If you hate what you’re doing right now, try something different. No one’s forcing you to do the same thing you were doing yesterday.”

She pivots the cart to move around him, leaving him with thoughts he’s honestly been scared to think about.

Steve’s made a routine for himself. Go to work, pick up the kids, drive them around, go home. Live a life that he enjoys and work a job that he kind of hates. Follow his best friend wherever she goes because he’ll love whatever it is.

Was it what he thought he’d be doing with his life, no. Is it something he wanted to do the rest of his life? He doesn’t want to answer that question. The rest of his life was uncertain for the longest time. Each year testing the strength of his body and his mind. Making it feel like tomorrow was some bright future he may never get to see.

It was easy to get so stuck in the present when the future seemed like it would never come. Now that it is, Steve is scared to figure out what it is. What it means for him.  

“Look,” Robin continues, knowing exactly how he’s feeling. “I’m not saying you have to pick what you want to do right now. Or tomorrow, or the day after that. I’m just saying that if you really hate doing this,” she waves towards the shelves, “then you can start thinking about what you would want to do instead. There is still so much time for you to figure it all out.”

Time is something Steve’s learning how to deal with. But Robin’s right. Maybe it’s finally the right moment to think about what he can do with it.

. . .

“That is so exciting,” El exclaims when Julie tells her that Steve is going to teach her how to drive. “You will be the first one of us to learn how to drive.”

“Well, that’s actually Max,” Lucas corrects. “She learned how to drive a while ago.”

“Yeah poorly,” Mike adds. “And only in a parking lot.”

Max rolls her eyes. “I drove in the street that one time.”

“And almost got us killed.”

“Scared Steve shitless.” Dustin laughs.

“Scared all of us shitless.”

“Not me,” Lucas defends. I wasn’t scared.”

Dustin snorts. “So that wasn’t your high-pitched scream then?”

Lucas kicks him under the table.

El turns to Max. “When did you drive?”

Max motions for El to get closer and whispers it into her ear. Just another reminder that Julie has no idea what they are talking about. Another inside joke that she’ll never understand. El takes a second to be shocked before bursting out into giggles.

When the bell rings, Max stops Julie before she can walk away. “Hey, could you help me bring my stuff to my next class. El has a test today so she can’t do it.”

Julie shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”

She picks up Max’s backpack and carries it in front of her. Following after Max as she yells at the groups of seniors who like to stand in the hallway and block everyone’s path.

“So, you and El have gotten pretty close, yeah?” Max asks way too casually than she should for such a loaded question. And in the middle of the hallway.

“I mean we’re friends, right,” Julie tries to play it cool. Especially since to El, this is all they are.

Max stops, turning her chair to Julie and giving her a look that tell her to cut the shit. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I don’t really want to talk about this here.”

She barely wants to talk about it at all. The hatred for herself slowly turning into guilt that churns her stomach each time she looks at El. Knowing that she’s feeling something that she shouldn’t. Almost asking El for something that she can’t give. Wishing that this feeling could go away and they could just go back to being normal friends. Without all this complicated shit.

“That’s fair.” Max resumes rolling down the hallway, stopping in front of her classroom and reaching out to take the bag from Julie. “Your house after school then?”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Julie wishes she would.

“El’s my best friend. Of course I’m not.”

The school day ends, and they go over to her house. She sits next to Max in her room like it’s some interrogation. Waiting for her to be the first to speak. Not wanting to share too much too fast.

“You know, El’s probably going to be pissed when she figures out that we hung out without her,” Max finally breaks the silence.

Julie huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, probably.”

The thing about actually having a crush, Julie realizes, is that it’s so special to have one. Like a little secret that she and only a few other people know. This special little feeling that, at the end of the day, brings her so much joy to have. Even though it’s terrifying. It’s a good terrifying.

“I was really happy when El became friends with you so fast,” Max continues. “I love the guys, but she needed someone else who knew how to take it down a notch. Someone calmer. Someone like you.”

Her lips can’t help but turn into a soft smile. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Max nods. “I think we all needed that too. Life has been crazy the last few years and it’s been nice to have someone to remind us that life doesn’t always have to be tied to that. Especially for El.”

“What do you mean?”

Max takes a deep breath, shifting the pillow behind her. “There’s a lot that I can’t tell you, and there’s stuff that I don’t even really know. None of us do. She wouldn’t tell us all of it. But you know how El is adopted right?”

Julie nods.

“I, uh, don’t know how much of this she wanted me to tell you. Just that she didn’t want to do it herself so bear with me here. Before she was adopted, El was in a really bad home. If that’s what you could even call it. And a lot of really terrible things happened there that none of us like to talk about. She escaped from there one night and eventually got adopted by Hopper.”

Julie remembers that night she stayed at the Byers after they got kicked out of the house. How she told El about the fourth of July when the mall burnt down, and she saw all those people walking to their death. The face El made after she said it. Looking determined as all hell and older than she needed to be. Like a switch in her mind flipped and she was a totally different person than Julie knew her to be.

How horrible her life must have been to take the joy out of her face so fast. To turn defense mode on in a way that made her look like a soldier.

“That’s terrible,” are the only words Julie can think to say.

Max nods, looking down at her hands. “Yeah, it is. This is the same place, same people, that are responsible for a lot of the bad things that happened in this town. They worked at the Hawkins lab.”

“Shit,” Julie sighs, leaning back against her wall.

“Yeah, shit.”

The room fills with silence.

“Why are you telling me all of this now?”

“Because I’ve never seen El open up to a person as fast as she has with you. It took a long time for her to open up to me, and sure there were other things in the way that stopped that, but I’m talking right as we became friends. We were close, but not you guys close.”

Julie can’t imagine Max and El being different from the way they are now. The soft interactions full of a trust that looked so natural. Like they had been friends for a lifetime, fully comfortable around one another.

“And I’m starting to notice, and please tell me if this is out of line, that you might be thinking about El differently than I think about El.”

Julie wonders if this is the time where it isn’t taken well. That someone tells her that this is the worst thing that she could do. Having a crush on a friend could break relationships. She didn’t want to break this one.

“I do,” she finally says to Max. Ready for the berating to start.

Instead, Max nods with resignation. “I think El does too.”

The room starts to buzz as Julie’s heart starts to pick up. “What?”

“She hasn’t, like, told me anything. And she’s probably going to hate me for telling you this at all. But I want to protect her and protect you too and this weird waiting period is really awkward for me, and I’d rather just get to the point where I’m third wheeling.”

“I’m sorry,” Julie interrupts her, still trying to wrap her head around the idea that there’s a possibility that El might like her back. “You think El likes me?”

Max raises her eyebrow. “Have you seen the way she’s been acting around you? Complimenting you every day, clipping your hair back, giggling at literally every joke you say. No offense but that’s a little excessive, your jokes aren’t always that funny.”

Moments start to replay in Julie’s mind. Having been so focused on the way she’s been acting, that she didn’t even notice the way El’s behavior around her changed. How she interacted with Julie just different enough from the rest of the group for it to be significant. For it to be special.

She remembers shrinking in on herself when she knew El was looking at her for longer than she should. Thinking that it was because Julie was making her feel uncomfortable. Never because she could have been doing the same thing Julie has been doing this whole time. Admiring in secret.

“I didn’t notice.”

Max groans. “Of course you didn’t. Neither of you did. It’s like Will and Mike not realizing that they’re into each other. Do you know how frustrating it is to know that your friends like each other but they’re too stupid to do anything about it.”

“Oh my god, you noticed the Will and Mike thing too, I thought that was just me.”

“Don’t try and change the subject. You like El, and I think El likes you. What are you going to do about it?”

Julie winces. “Is nothing an option?”

Max grabs Julie’s arm. “You are driving me crazy. Ask her out or some shit.”

“What if it doesn’t work out?” Julie says, full of fear. “What if I mess up and then I lose all of you guys. I already feel like an outsider sometimes when you guys start talking about the things I don’t know about. I’m the friend that everyone would be ok to lose if this doesn’t work out.”

A few beats pass before Max starts to speak. “Ok, one, you are not the friend that everyone would be ok to lose. You have integrated yourself into the group more than you think you have. Second, you are so focused on a relationship that you haven’t even started yet. Life’s too short to have regret for the steps you didn’t take. Believe me, I know.”

Max wraps her arms around her leg, shifting it to a better position. Inadvertently reminding Julie of the things that have happened the past few years. The events she was just a bystander to, never fully experiencing what happened. When they did, somehow. She still wished she kind of knew.

But maybe Max was right. Maybe Julie could take the risk. Ask El on a date. Hope that it would work out, and that she wouldn’t regret it later. What would she regret more? Asking, or forever wondering how it would have turned out had she not.

. . .

July 1987

The room is blurry as Steve comes into consciousness. The bright lights giving him a headache, and the taste of copper resting on is tongue. His one eye can’t open that well, almost swollen shut. His wrists burn against rope as he twists them. Trying to get them apart.

His good eye blinks, focusing on a pair of black boots in front of him. Raising his head, he meets the scowling face of the Russian officer. Hearing words spoken in a language he doesn’t understand to the other man in the room.

“Ah, he’s awake,” The Russian slurs in English. Stepping forward and looking down at Steve. Menacing.

“Let me go,” Steve begs. “I don’t know anything.”

The officer grabs his hair, pulling his head back to look at him. Steve’s tempted to spit in his face.

“I am only going to ask you this again. Who do you work for?”

Steve can’t help but let out a sad laugh. Knowing he won’t be awake for much longer. “I already told you. I work at Scoops.”

The ringing in his ears starts when his cheek burns. Vision blurring again. He straightens his head, panting to try and get the air back into his lungs. Only for it to leave as the officer hits him again. Always the right side of his head. It hurts so much it’s almost numb.

“No, no, no,” Steve pleads as the officer winds up again. Blood pooling in his mouth with the next collision. He spits on the group. “I work at Scoops,” he screams with as much breath he can muster.

The world goes dark again.

Steve wakes with a scream. The surroundings not matching that of his cell. A weight around his torso preventing him from getting up. He rips the blankets off of him, pulling the weight off and throwing it away. Cursing as his feet can’t kick off the sheets. Can’t get free.

Tears are streaming down his face as he struggles. His hands free. The rope burn stinging his skin. His torso itches like crazy. Like small little bites stabbing into his skin. He needs to find Robin. Needs to see if she’s ok.

“Steve,” a voice says to him. How do they know his same? Did he tell it to them? What are they going to do to him now.

He still struggles with the blanket, finally pulling his feet free. Attempting to get off the bed and search for anything as a weapon. This place isn’t the cell he was in before. They must have moved him when he was knocked out.

“Steve,” the voice says again. Sitting up on the bed and starting to move towards him.

Steve flinches from the touch, raising his fists. Ready to strike them first this time. His heart is beating in his ears, the constant ringing in his right only amplified. Adrenaline pumping through his veins.

He needs to get out of here.

A light clicks on. Illuminating the room he’s in. It doesn’t look like a cell. It looks like a bedroom. Have they constructed this just to give him a false sense of security?”

“It was just a dream, Steve.” The man gets out of the bed, taking a cautious step towards Steve. Hands outstretched to block any punches Steve might throw.

Steve wasn’t the threat here. He was just trying to protect himself.

“Can you tell me three things you notice about this room?” The man cautiously spins them around, clicking on another lamp in the room.

The bare walls reflect the light, the soft yellow so different from the blaring white. The walls a tan instead of white or grey. It looks so familiar, but Steve’s mind is so confused. The tears continue to stream down his face as he tries to figure out where he is.

“I work at Scoops,” Steve stutters.

“I know you do.” The man replies quickly. “I believe you.”

More tears. Steve’s hands lower. They know now. Does that mean he’s free to go?

“Tell me three things you see,” he repeats. So soft it makes Steve want to crumble.

“A bed,” he whispers. “A nightstand. A lamp.”

The man takes another step forward. Coming into more clarity. Brown curls fall onto his shoulders. He looks nothing like the Russians.

“Good. Anything else?”

“There’s a picture on the nightstand. The bed has blue sheets. There’s a poster on the wall.”

Eddie places a gentle hand on Steve’s shoulder, he flinches before leaning into it. Closing his eyes and trying to focus on the touch. Letting it ground him.

There’s a knock on the door. Steve’s eyes fly open again as he whips his head to look. Heartbeat increasing again.

“Take a seat, sweetheart, I’ll get it.”

Steve freezes, unable to move. He’s directed toward the bed, somehow, he sits down. Knuckles clenched into white.

“Are you guys ok,” he hears a soft voice say. “I heard screaming.”

Eddie doesn’t open the door more than a small crack. “Yeah, we’re fine. I got this, you can go back to bed.”

The door shuts with a small click. Eddie returning to Steve. Sits next to him as the adrenaline fades. Leaving his body exhausted and his mind still searching for explanations.

“Can you tell me what year it is, Steve?”

He shakes his head.

“It’s July second, 1987. You survived them, Steve. Everyone did.”

A sob escapes his throat. His body collapsing into himself. Curling up as the energy releases. He’s wrapped into a hug and pulled further into the bed. Being protected while he falls apart.

Steve wakes up again a few hours later. Gets out of bed and into a routine. Takes a shower, gets dressed, makes himself breakfast. Goes through the motions of a normal morning.

The front door closes quietly. Eddie and Robin coming into the house. Sitting with Steve at the table.

“I took Julie to school, that’s why I wasn’t here,” Eddie explains. “I told Robin what happened.”

Robin looks down at the table, biting at her lip. “Tomorrow marks two year since-.”

Steve looks at his coffee. “Yeah, I know.”

“I can’t believe it’s been that long. It feels so close yet a lifetime away.”

“It was like I was back there. Even when I woke up.” Steve takes a deep breath. “I thought it was going to be better this year.”

Robin’s hand finds his, her fingers shaking. “Me too.”

They find themselves curled up on the couch for the rest of the day. Eddie there just to make sure they’re both ok. The house quiet except for the low volume on the tv. Lights off so they don’t flicker. Robin’s fingers pressed into Steve’s wrist to feel his pulse. His arm holding her close, proving that she’s there.

They made it out of there. They’re both alive. He wishes that their minds would stop trying to tell them otherwise.

. . .

Julie walks into a dark house. Steve and Robin asleep on the couch with Eddie awkwardly sitting next to them. Looking out of place. She wants to ask about what she heard last night. How she heard the screams from across the hall.

Eddie gets up when he notices her. Motions for her to meet him in Steve’s bedroom. Shuts the door gently behind them before turning on the light.

“You probably have a few questions about last night.”

Julie nods. “Is he ok?”

Eddie runs a hand down his face. “Physically, yeah, he’s fine. But other than that, he will be. This week is an anniversary of something for him. He was reminded of that last night.”

“The mall fire,” Julie fills in. “I know that they were there that night.”

“Do you know why?”

Julie shakes her head. No one would tell her more when she asked.

Eddie nods, crossing his arms and swaying on the balls of his feet. “I’m not sure if I’m allowed to tell you what happened. I don’t even know the full of it.”

She thought Steve told him everything. “It was bad, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s the reason Steve can’t hear well in his right ear anymore. And the reason he gets really bad PTSD attacks. Like the one he had last night.”

“And that’s why,” she tilts her head to the door. Knowing that Steve and Robin tangled together in the living room.

“She was there too.” Eddie looks at the door. Pain painting his face. “A part of me wishes I knew what really happened to them so I could help. But they already relive this pain more than they should, they don’t need to do it again just to fill me in.”

Julie pauses before asking the question that’s been on her mind since the first time she heard screams through the walls. Wonders if there’s a part of her that really wants to know. Or if this is just morbid curiosity. But there were memories of her own that haunt her. Placing her back into moments of her life with things left unexplained.

She cares about these people. It hurts to know that they are in pain. And if she could help, know how to help them through the panic or PTSD attacks, she thinks it’s important enough to know.

“Do you think you could tell me what you know,” she asks softly. “Or at least what you do to help calm him down. I think it would be good for me to be prepared in case it happens and you or Robin aren’t here.”

Eddie presses his lips together. “I’ll do the second one, not the first. As much as he doesn’t want to talk about it, it’s not my story to tell.”

“That’s fair.”

Eddie tells her what he does to calm Steve down when it gets really bad. How with the panic attacks, it’s good to count with him while he breaths. And if he’s willing, grab his hands to help ground him. Tell him about what’s in the room. How it’s different than the pictures in his mind. More things kind of all based on that.

Julie takes it all in, making a mental list in her mind, hoping she doesn’t forget it. Hoping that if it ever happens, she won’t mess it up. Saddened by the fact that this is Steve’s reality.

. . .

A few days pass since Steve’s reality morphed with his nightmares. The date crossed out on his calendar far enough away that it’s finally starting to sink in. Steve made it out of there two years ago. Yet it still affects him like it was yesterday.

Just like back then, life moves on. He goes to work and comes home. Gets weird thinking of the future, and what that means for him. How each milestone will pass, the anniversary of dates coming and going. Affecting him in more ways than he realizes. Until he’s waking in a cold sweat and his body is transported back into his past selves. Some fucked up time travel.

His mind stays fixated on that night. How long it took for his brain to recognize Eddie’s face. To differentiate the safety of his home with the danger of his interrogation cell. How dangerous it could have been.

Eddie told him that Julie has asked about it. How he didn’t say anything, but did tell her ways to help him through an attack. It’s something he never thought of before. Out of all the possibilities that run through his mind, the thought of her being present for one of the attacks never crossed. He never thought she would be there for one of them.

But she almost was. If Eddie hadn’t been there, it would have been Steve opening the door. He didn’t want her to see him like that. He didn’t want the monsters in his head to meld her into something she wasn’t.

She wasn’t a part of this life, he wanted to keep it that way. But Steve has never really gotten what he wished for. It was time to tell her the parts he could.

No one wants to hear about the truth. They don’t want to know the dangers that rest beneath their feet. Blissfully ignorant and wanting to stay that way. Ignorance, however, can hurt sometimes. He didn’t want it to hurt her.

When Julie gets home from school, Steve asks her to sit in the kitchen. Takes the seat across from her and starts to lay out everything. How this conversation can’t leave the room, and she’s never to let anyone know that he told her this.

“This is about Starcourt, isn’t it?” She asks somewhere in the middle of his warnings. “Why all those people walked straight to their death.”

“How did you know about that?” Steve knew that people must have seen it, but it was kept out of the news.

Julie tells him about the night she went looking for her mom. How she got caught in the crowd of people walking toward the mall. Saw the names of people she knew flicker on the tv screen the next morning.

Steve tells her more than he should. About how Will going missing five years ago was a catalyst to so much more. How he got roped into everything. Skipping the bit in the middle for the most part, focusing on how Max came into it all. Then gets to the Russians.

Tells her the story of an innocent mystery turned terrifying nightmare. The interrogation that thankfully didn’t end in his death. Fireworks that crashed into the monster the size of a building and crashing a car into a possessed maniac. All of it ending in burning red, leaving the survivors to cope with their loss.

She’s taking it better than he thought she would. And he hasn’t even said everything yet. Just barely gets to spring break before Julie is pulling him into a hug. Until he realizes the wetness of his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” she chokes. “I am so sorry you had to live through that.”

He doesn’t finish telling her everything. It’s probably a good thing. The NDA’s aren’t as loose as the ones from a few years ago. And it’s better for her to process this and maybe learn the rest later. If she wants to. If he wants to explain it all again.

. . .

“Alright, now turn on the blinker and slowly hit the gas again,” Steve instructs as Julie sits at a stop sign. No one else around.

It’s been a few weeks since she’s started learning how to drive. Slowly easing into it in random parking lots while no one is there. Learning where all the signals were, and basic traffic laws. Most of it was review, but she didn’t mind the practice.

She pushes on the gas, jerking the car into motion. Pulling away from the parking lot and onto the street. For the first time. Julie is driving on the road.

“Ok, good. Just try not to hit the gas so hard next time.”

Steve’s been an ok teacher. Patient for the most part but gets frustrated when he can’t explain something properly. But he hasn’t gotten angry at her yet. Carefully corrects her but makes sure she knows that she’s doing ok. That she’s starting to get this right.

Julie pulses the gas. Learning how to keep the speed of the road. Overcorrecting when she gets too close to the yellow lines. The overcorrecting again when she gets close to tree line.

It’s scary driving something so large. So powerful. Hearing how the engine revs each time she pushes her foot down too hard. Feeling the pull of the seatbelt against her chest as she hits the breaks too fast.

But she’s getting it. Adjusting herself as she gets used to the feel of the petals beneath her feet. Loosens her body as she gets more comfortable gripping the steering wheel. As she gets used to the size of the car and the way it moves.

“Great. You’re doing really great, Julie. How about we turn here and-.”

A deer jumps in front of the car.

Julie slams on the breaks as she swerves close to the trees. The car coming mere inches from the trunk. Her arms shaking as they grip the wheel.

It all can happen so fast.

Steve unbuckles his seatbelt, turning towards her. “Julie, take a breath ok.”

One wrong move and the hood of the car would be curved around the tree. The airbag would be in her face.

“Just take a breath, we’re ok.”

What if her foot had slipped as she pushed down on the breaks? What if her hands fumbled the turn? Would the deer have contacted the car? Would she have killed it?

“You followed your instincts. We’re ok. That’s all that matters. We’re ok.”

Was this what it was like right before her mom’s crash? Did a deer just jump in front of the car? Her foot missing the break as she slammed into a tree. As it crashes just right to take her life. Was this mistake so easy to make that Julie almost made it too?

“Julie,” Steve touches her shoulder, comforting her. “It’s ok. Take all the time you need.”

Julie unbuckles her seatbelt and bolts out of the car. Runs to the wood as bile stings her tongue. Let’s the adrenaline out onto the dirt as she crashes. As the air escapes from her lungs.

Steve’s beside her rubbing her back. Saying something but it doesn’t register. Too stuck in her head to think of anything else.

“I’m sorry,” slips out of her mouth. Not sure of what else to say.

“Don’t be. It was just an accident, it happens all the time.”

Tears start to make their way out of her eyes. “But I didn’t see it. I could’ve. I could’ve crashed the car. Or worse and.” Sharp, shaky breaths interrupt her sentences.

Steve turns her to look at him. “Julie, hey. Look at me.” She does. “Take a deep breath, ok.”

He counts as she forces herself to breath in. She holds it, feeling the beat of her heart in her lungs. Releases it. Does it again.

“I didn’t see the deer either,” Steve admits once she calms down a little. “Something must have scared it, and it ran into the road. And you did a good job avoiding it.”

She doesn’t feel like it was a good job. “It all happened so fast.”

The tears continue to stream down her face. The feeling of the break pressed into the bottom of her foot. Throbbing. Her shoulder stinging from the pull of the seatbelt. The feeling of it all finally registering.

Her forehead hurts. Something is dripping down in between her eyes. She reaches up and swipes away blood. The buzz coming back to her veins.

“Fuck,” she mutters, eyes glued to her hand.

Steve gets up and comes back with a small first aid kit. Wiping away the blood with some napkins and pressing them against her forehead. Waiting for the bleeding to stop.

She doesn’t even remember her head hitting the steering wheel.

They sit in silence while Steve cleans the cut. Julie wincing when the alcohol wipe hits her broken skin. Steve finds a small piece of gauze and tapes it to her forehead. Packing up the first aid kit and returning to just sitting next to her.

“We’ll sit here as long as you want to, then I’ll drive us home,” he says.

Drive. Julie doesn’t know how she can sit in the car again. Knowing how easy it is for it all to fail.

“It all happened so fast,” she says again. Fixated on it.

“Yeah, yeah it did.” Steve’s trying to stay strong but she can see the shock in his actions too.

“Was it that fast when,” a lump forms in her throat. “When she? When my mom?”

Steve realizes what she’s talking about, starting to open and close his mouth. Trying to find something to say.

“I,” he starts. “I don’t know.”

“That’s all I could think about.” She looks at him. “All I can think about is how I could almost have died just like her. One wrong move and I-. And we-.”

Steve grabs her arms, looking her dead in the eyes. “Hey,” he says softly. “It’s ok. Whatever could have happened, it doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that we’re here, and we’re safe. You got shocked and followed your instincts. And because of that, we’re both ok.”

Ok normally doesn’t feel like this. But she tries, really tries to listen to his words.

“I know none of this is going to stop the what ifs in your mind. Believe me, I know. But those what ifs are not going to change what happened. It’s important to remember that.”

She knows he’s right. But it’s so hard to keep her mind on track. Letting it off rail to the ends of possibilities. Wondering if there was ever one where there was never an almost crash to begin with.

“Let’s go home. Get an icepack on that head and make sure it’s ok before you go to sleep. Ok?”

Slowly, Julie nods. “Ok.”

She gets in the car. Buckling the seat belt and tugging it to make sure it locked. Steve gets in the driver’s seat and readjusts it and the mirrors before slowly pulling away. The almost accident fading as she stares in the sideview mirror.

It was just an accident. It can happen to anyone. It just had to happen to her.

Tag list(let me know if you want to be added or removed): @homoerotictangerine, @mugloversonly, @thesuninyaface, @imyelenasexual, @anaibis,

@ilovecupcakesandtea, @brainsteddielyrotted, @jackiemonroe5512, @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple, @goodolefashionedloverboi,

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @lolawonsstuff, @writingandmushroomdragons, @stevesbipanic, @sierra-violet,

@steddie-as-they-go, @dauntlessdiva, @mousedetective, @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner, @zombiethingy,

@connected-dots-st-reblogger, @that-agender-from-pluto, @allyricas, @cheddartreets, @devondespresso,

@crypticcorvidinacottage, @queenie-ofthe-void @chronicpainstevetruther, @melonmochi

[zuzu-draws]

I read i think one of the most emotionally devastating fics of my life last night, and I'm still thinking about it...Seriously...what was the Author on..? Yeah i'm talking about YELLOW for Aokise and i honestly can't remember the last time a fanfiction has left me THIS emotionally devastated.. :'D

I've realized that theres ALOT lf hidden gems in the community, especially for Aokise but simply because the fandom was active a long time ago, it'll be hard for me to find them. But from a little bit of my investigation, KnB was really huge on Tumblr back in the day. So if some Aokise fan's still around, could i get some fic recs for them? As you can tell, i really like angst.. :')

[bunnieswithknives]

sorry if idk this but what do you think about Wordgirl now in 2024 do you still like it do you still want to make art or talk about it or are you just done with all of it forever and plus i seen that you haven't made art of it since 2022 so you just done with all of it oh yeah and what about The Magnus Archives + Wordgirl ao3 fic too like is that just going to be and i know that your working on 2 au's now just wanting to know that's all

My interests tend to come in intense bursts and then fade. Unless something like, big happens like it gets a reboot its unlikely I'll be coming back to it anytime soon. As for the fic I don't have any current plans to finish it unfortunately.

[woodsborostabathon]

have been fighting for my life trying to find this one richie/ethan x reader fic (it was like. an ethan fic but there was a pretty significant sort of kind of fake dating richie subplot) on here that i rbed onto a sideblog on my old acc and saved NOWHERE ELSE apparently bc it was so good but im getting NOTHING 😭

[sparklingchim]

lwh oc distracting jungkook while he’s working out or boxing 😋😗😉

word count: 1.1k

warnings: jelly n possessive koo 😋, spit !!, blowjob, titty fuck, dirty talk, boob-obsessed jk obv, cum play, cum eating, the initial necklace makes a comback !

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

"20 minutes ago, you said you'd be done in five minutes."

Your huffed complaint barely reaches Jungkook's ears as he continues to throw punches at the heavy bag in front of him.

You're sitting cross-legged next to him, pulling at his shorts to pull his attention towards you.

"Just five more minutes, baby." He casts a quick glance at you before focusing on his training again.

"I'm boored."

Your fingers trail to his drawstrings. You pull at them without Jungkook noticing. His black Calvin's peek out and your inital idea to just annoy him morphs into something more impish.

Your fingertips slowly brush over the front of his joggers.

Jungkook’s little grunts from above come to a halt when he peers down at you, brows pulled together in confusion. He tilts his head to the side when you meet his gaze with a mischievous smile.

“Baby.” Jungkook’s chest rises with every heavy breath, his skin shimmering with sweat. “What are you doing?”

“Relax for a bit, Koo,” you say softly. Hand cupping him through the fabric. “This is only making you angrier.” Batting your eyelashes you ask, “What’s got you so mad, hm?”

“Nothin’,” he mumbles, eyes closed as you squeeze him.

You can’t shake the feeling that Jungkook is still holding onto some tension from last night’s Christmas gathering. While having dinner with friends and hitting up a bar, you couldn’t ignore Jungkook’s upset pout on his face, the lingering glances with his doe eyes and his subtly possessive hands always reaching for you.

And all that just because he was jealous of Taehyung. It’s been ages since you last saw Taehyung, your former high school boyfriend, and there was a lot to catch up on. Jungkook pretended it didn’t bother him, but his façade crumbled easily �� just like now, with his tense jaw and clenched hands in white wraps, still staunchly denying any reason for his anger.

“I’m a much better distraction than punching a stupid bag, don’t you think?” You pull his joggers and briefs down in one motion and crawl on your knees in front of him. Your mouth closes around his tip and Jungkook shudders.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “You sure no one will come here?” you ask, stroking his cock with your hand.

“It’s been closed for hours.” Jungkook gathers your hair in his fist. “I wouldn’t let anyone see you like this. But we can go to the office if you don’t feel comfortable here.”

“I’m fine,” you mutter around his cock. You take him deeper into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his hard dick. Your eyes sting with tears when his tip reaches the back of your throat. Jungkook curses, holding your head in that position.

“So cute,” he mutters. His thumb brushes over the little tear in the corner of your eye. He moves his hips back a little before he pushes his cock further down your throat again. “Damn, baby. Taking my cock so well.”

You heave for air once he’s all the way out, hands unconsciously squeezing his muscular thighs. Jungkook strokes his cock in leisurely movements. You dip your head and gently suck on his balls. His head falls back, plush mouth parted to utter soft moans.

You feel Jungkook tugging on your pullover. “Lemme see your tits,” he urges.

Your tongue sweeps from his balls across his cock till you give him a little kiss on the tip. A lovestruck smile settles on his face, growing even bigger when he sees your naked tits.

He bends forward to squeeze the supple flesh in his hands, rolling them around in his palms. His tongue pokes his cheek, a hungry look creeping into his eyes.

“Wanna fuck them,” he says.

“Yeah?” You bite your lip, raising a little on your knees.

Jungkook spits down on his cock, rubbing it all over himself. He teases your puckered nipples with his tip, pulling a couple whines from you. You let a droplet of spit trail down on the valley between your tits and he catches it with his cock, rubbing spreading the bit of lubrication on your skin.

You press your boobs against his cock. A shaky breath slips Jungkook’s mouth and moves his hips in needy motions.

“Fuck, I love fucking your tits,” he rasps. His eyes travel over the dainty necklace around your throat, a sparkly J moving along his thrusts. “All mine.” He cups your face, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb.

“You always want me, right? Always gonna be mine.”

“Uh-huh. Always.”

“Good girl.”

Your tummy tingles and you smile up at him.

Jungkook lubricates his cock with more saliva “Tits are so soft,” he whispers. “Gonna cum all over them.” His grunts turn louder as he gets closer to cumming.

He looks so pretty above you with his chiselled chest glistening, cheeks tinted in a rosy colour and his doe eyes looking down at you with lust and adoration.

“’m so close.” His hips stagger and you feel his cum shooting over your chest. Jungkook slows down, watching his cum paint over your boobs with drowsy eyes. “Fuck,” he moans, palming his cock and squeezing out the last bits.

“Feeling better now?” you ask, blinking up at him.

“So much better.” He runs the tip of his cock over his cum, smearing it across your tits. Gathering a bit of cum on his cock, he holds it in front of your mouth. You lick the cum off his tip and swallow it.

“Next time when we’re hanging out with Taehyung you don’t have to get jealous,” you tell Jungkook as you stand up.

His gaze is fixed on your cum-covered boobs before he casts his eyes up, an offended frown contorting his face.

“I wasn’t jealous!”

“No?” You raise your brows. “Your hands just naturally were all over me when I talked to Tae?”

He shrugs. “Maybe.”

You giggle. “Stop being silly.” You throw your arms around his neck, standing on your tip toes. “You’re the only one I want,” you whisper and give him a soft kiss.

“I know.” Jungkook’s fingers skim over your back. “Just need to hear it more often.” He plants another sweet kiss on your lips.

Jungkook’s phone starts ringing.

“Time to pick up Nabi!” you exclaim, eyes sparkling.

Jungkook grins, pulling up his sweatpants and briefs.

“Lemme get some tissues for you first.”

“You think Nabi was a bit mean to Namjoon again?” you ask.

“Oh, she loves annoying him.”

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Prompt 10 with either Fives or a clone of your choice from @the-bad-batch-baroness list of prompts? 👉👈

The Long Way Home [Fives x Reader]

Prompt ten: "Did you feel that?" "Feel what?" "It's starting to rain."

List of all prompts found here [X]. Prompt will be highlighted in blue.

Warnings and Information: Wanting a taste of domesticity the moment he gets shore leave, Fives wants to spend the day with you doing general couple-ly things. A little shopping at the early winter markets of Coruscant, and utilizing every excuse to shower you in all the compliments he can to make up for lost time. When the weather has other ideas regarding your shared plans for the day, Fives is determined to make the best of a less than ideal situation. 

This is a general fluff + relationship fic at its core; friendly for all ages this go-round. Reader written with fem!reader in mind, not described save for minor notes about clothing and briefly implied (but not specified) height difference. Fives being a sweetheart. Sprinkling of Mando’a as a treat. As an additional treat, Order 66? Don't know her; Palpatine died and the Republic won the war. 🩷 2nd person POV. 

Word-count: 5,912

There's a knock at the front door of your residence, one you've been eagerly expecting most of the morning. You're quick to reach the door, keying him in so he can step inside where it's warm. He's late; which he had warned you about well in advance. And the first thing he offers before his usual hellos is an apology. 

A well-practiced one at that, from the warm cadence of his voice, brimming with just the right amount of shame.

“I'm so sorry to keep you waiting, mesh'la, I-”

You tug him close with the collar of his civilian wear (a thick, handmade sweater given to him by Hardcase who had recently taken up knitting since breaking one of his legs - so you're certain to handle it delicately) in a very practiced motion. As expected, it shuts him up just long enough to get a word in while he puts himself nose to nose with you. Practically close enough to taste the words on the others’ lips. “Hey. It's okay Fives. I understand the captain probably needed your help with something, or, you volunteered yourself to help. Again.” Your partner with his well-groomed goatee has a penchant for stepping up and lending a hand to a brother in need, brave and dependable to the end. 

Full lips dart apart, the tender flesh brushing over your own lips being this close is nigh impossible to avoid. “Are you teasing or expecting an answer?” Fives asks, hinting to his building confusion below a toothy grin. “Makin’ it hard to tell what you want when I can’t see all of your pretty face.”

That's fair of him to say, you should suppose. “Mostly teasing,” you promise him, at last permitting yourselves to kiss one another as part of the process - brief, chaste, sweet. “You know I wouldn't press you for details if it was classified ARC business.” You never have. Never will until you know the mission has been completed at least; because while you often burn with questions (as is only natural and expected in what was once a friendship, now a partnership) pertaining to his duties and practiced protocols within the GAR, you take the mantra “loose lips sink starships” very close to heart. 

Should you ever say something that could jeopardize the safety of the one you love, you’d never forgive yourself.

“No, not ARC business,” Fives offers at last, “I, uh… I told you I was gonna be running late because some of my brothers asked for my help with something kinda last minute.” The palm of his left hand strokes the back of his neck in a self-soothing fashion, a tell of either embarrassment or shame. “I couldn’t bring myself to say no…” 

“Young brothers?”

Fives only answers with a nod and an appeasing smile, knowing where this is going. 

“Star-struck little brothers wanting to ask what’s it like being an ARC trooper, and how they can train to be just like you?” you muse, exaggerating your train of thought with a couple of taps against your chin with the finger of your non-dominant hand, the other arm wrapped across your body.

It does not slip your notice how his tanned face begins to look a little flushed when you playfully bat your eyes at him for good measure, knowing what that kind of praise does to him combined with the light teasing. 

“More or less…” 

You giggle, not at him or at his expense, but more the mental image than anything. You can picture Fives, being as eager as he was to come see you now that he had shore leave, getting roped into regaling doe-eyed Clones with lengthy recountings of his service since becoming an ARC. All he wanted to do was peruse the early winter markets with you, the entire idea his from the start; and there he was, at least an hour of his precious free time used up already. All because he was too much of a selfless and wholeheartedly good person for his own good, on occasion. 

“I’m sure they appreciated you and Echo doing that.” Fives doesn’t have to mention his surviving squadmate, Echo, to know that the other half of the nicknamed Domino Twins had sacrificed his own time to answer a few (or a hundred, more rather) burning questions. “I’m sure the captain did, too.”

The humble grin is confirmation enough for you. You can continue to tease him later, however - you’re both wasting daylight the longer the two of you choose to linger in your comfortable Coruscanti apartment rather than getting the rest of your things ready. Light coats or other appropriate outerwear still needs to be gathered, the credits you’ve been setting aside for this occasion needs to come out of hiding, and he still needs to collect the rest of his civilian-wear he planned on wearing. There’s only so much space within trooper accommodations for everything he’s accumulated since the start of your relationship. Thick-knit hats, fleece-lined gloves, a scarf in 501st blue, things of that nature. 

And boots. It’d probably be wise to grab a pair of all-weather boots rather than tromp the markets in your slipper-socks, no matter how tempting the smooth streets would prove. 

Fives is ready far sooner than you, owing to how little he needed to add or change into to be more weather-ready, but he waits patiently. No teasing remarks for how long it takes you to disentangle a simple scarf from all the others, or the childlike nature of repeating the phrase that helped you remember how to tie your shoes even to this day, or any of the other silly little habits you comfortably show in front of him. There’s only a warm, endeared smile to be seen. He’s just happy to be here, to be in your presence after so long, and see all these little puzzle pieces into why he loves you as though for the first time, every time. 

“What are you staring at?” you ask with a bemused laugh bubbling up from your throat. Time to time, you struggle to figure your partner out, wondering what can be chalked up to his training and what can be passed off as quirks unique to him. You’ve gotten better with time and practice, being able to discern these instances. “What’s on that beautiful mind of yours, Fives?”

“Nothing more than perhaps the most beautiful person in all the galaxy, cyare.” Fives replies in earnest, dazzling you with one of those smiles that had charmed you since the very beginning. “And how I get to spend most of my first day of shore leave with that person, all to myself.”

Torn between scoffing and brushing him off with oh surely you can’t mean the most beautiful person thing and trying to shield your flushing face from view, so certain your cheeks must be scarlet red with all the flattery, you busy yourself with ensuring your door is locked and secure against unwelcome visitors. There’s been a minor rash of break-ins lately, and you know that a simple door lock won’t do anything to deter the truly determined - only the honest - it always seems to get a bit worse just before large deployments get shore leave… funny how that goes. 

At least you get a little help when it can be spared by those serving with the Corrie Guard, given your proximity to the senate buildings here. There was no small amount of surprise the day Commander Fox himself turned up at your doorstep to follow-up with a reported break-in for the unit above your own. He could claim he was there just to ask if you happened to notice anything, and nothing more than that, but you knew better. Working in loose relation to the complex goings-on with the Galactic Senate and the red-clad commander turning up only two hours after mentioning the incident to Fives was too big a coincidence to ignore. (You can only wonder what strings in the line of communication your smarty-pants of a boyfriend had to pull in order to get in touch with Commander Fox, directly.)

A smarty-pants that you had all kinds of preconceived plans to spend the rest of the day with, all to yourself. 

The ambling walk to the marketplace offers the pair of you plenty of time to catch up since you last spoke on the comms just over two weeks ago; it was a Zhellday if you're not mistaken. 

You don't really bring up your work if you can help it; the problems seem so trivial when you compare them to the frustrations of stamping out those stubborn pockets of Separatist resistance Fives and all his brothers have been dealing with since winning the war just a year ago. A malfunctioning caf-machine spraying your last clean work uniform seems like nothing compared to a desperate firefight against the horrifying, mechanical amalgamations the standard CIS battle droids have become as less and less functional droids become available. 

You have to ask Fives to be sure you heard him right after he says it. “Hold on: it had eight arms?” 

“Some Separatist-sympathizer - one who's, admittedly, crafty but incredibly elusive - has been a real pain in our shebs for a while now. ‘Case was so badly spooked by the crazy-looking clanker that he fell over backwards on a crate full of smuggled produce.” Fives explains, struggling not to laugh when explaining of all possible ways Hardcase recently broke his leg, it was falling over backwards on a box of illegal fruit and veg. 

“He’s okay, right?” you prod, “What'd Kix have to say about the break?” 

It's touching to Fives when you show your concern for his brothers, knowing you have genuine interest in their well-being. You always have. When you heard that the production of the cloning facilities were coming to an end on Kamino thanks to Chancellor Organa’s new bill, your immediate thought had been for the young cadets who had not yet finished training. 

What's going to happen to those little brothers, Fives? All the Clones still developing in the tubes and the nurseries and-

Mesh'la, with any luck, they'll become the envy of the entire GAR. They'll never have to taste war like we have if we squash out the remaining Separatists sooner than later. 

Fives gives the cuff to one of the sweater sleeves an experimental tug with a beaming smile. “Kix said the worst of it will be the bed rest for Hardcase. At least he's found a way to keep his hands busy between the physical therapy he has to do, thanks to Dogma.”

“Aww. That was kind of him.” you croon. He mirrors the relieved smile, sharing in your relief that his brother's injury was not as bad as you feared. He begins fishing through one of his pockets for something, saying he has a picture to show you. 

“Hardcase made Dogma the ugliest possible blanket using yarn we had scrounged up for him as a way of saying thanks. Thing's got all sorts of colors from baby pink, to brick red, even a smidge of neon yellow somewhere in there.” 

Without question, the immaculate bunk within the frame can be none other than Dogma's. Laid out in a uniform manner is a tidily-knit but disorganized rainbow of yarn in every shade of blue and a handful of other colors. (Sure enough, you can pick out the baby pink, the brick red, and the neon yellow Fives previously mentioned.) Honestly, you think it looks ugly only because there's no reason or order to any of the colors. A crisp, sky blue next to the imagined dryness of such a dusty shade of red is a bit jarring, visually. 

‘Case was likely working with the colors of yarn as he received them, if his brothers were coming up with loose odds and ends as Fives claims they did. 

You voice the question that crosses your mind the more you look at the image in your boyfriend's hand, “Does Dogma actually use the blanket, or is it just for show until it's time to sleep?” 

“Wondered that myself.” Fives admits to you with a cheeky wink between thumbing over to the next picture, a still of Dogma tucked under both the GAR-issued blanket and Hardcase’s, “It was so worth pretending to be asleep for forty-five minutes just to get Dogma to go to bed.” Dogma's always been the last to fall asleep within shared accommodations, so for the ARC trooper you're arm-in-arm with to have pulled the oldest trick in the book in order to get to the bottom of a low-stakes mystery, you can only imagine how disciplined you'd have to be to lay so still and silent for that long. 

“Why not just ask him in the morning?” you laugh, realizing how simple it would be to do just that rather than go through such efforts to trick someone into going to bed. Fives shrugs noncommittally in response before tucking his personal device away again, now that you're both within earshot of the outdoor winter market. 

It's bustling with activity, even for Coruscant. The pressing crowds and all-encompassing noise will make it difficult to carry on catching up in a meaningful manner for much longer. 

“Dogma's not much of a talker in the mornings, sweetheart.” Fives says with a chuckle. “Though to be fair, not a lot of us are either.” 

Strange… they've always seemed so… talkative and alert whenever you've had early morning communications with Fives. Those bleary-eyed video calls spent simply staring at the other, not too sure what to talk about in particular. The stolen minutes between breakfast in the mess hall and the barracks. (The lunch breaks where you've snuck off somewhere secret and pretended you're sharing the same ration, they've been talkative for certain!) Have you just done a poor job of noticing until now? Or are they better at masking how awake they truly are than you expect? But okay, fair enough. 

Now that you were here at the market, you’d be more than a little preoccupied to be thinking about it much longer, with Fives tucking his fingers between yours to prevent both of you from getting separated from the other. It’s rather busy; it must be the morning rush before everyone has to reluctantly shuffle off to work. And you should probably expect to have more than a few elbows - or entirely unaware people - knock into you and Fives while you’re here. 

What catches Fives’ eye first is a female Besalisk vendor with armfuls of rain repellers for sale (one for five credits, or two for ten) with a business partner checking news sources for reports on the weather nearby.

“Ah… knew there was something I forgot to check before getting to your apartment.” He says, quickly casting his eyes skyward. Certainly enough, there are rain clouds gradually building overhead. Strange. While it is technically early winter, this time of year typically has a weird, transitional period regarding the weather. Not quite past the sometimes cold and drizzly days of autumn, but still too early to dust off your proper snow coats from where they've been hiding in the back of your closet. 

“Let’s get one to be safe.” you suggest with a reassuring squeeze of your hand in his. If you buy one of the repellers and end up never using the thing, then you were over-prepared with little consequence. Having one more thing to carry wouldn’t be that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things, surely. “Hi,” you address the vendor cheerfully, “a repeller for five credits, right?”

“That’s right! Pick whichever one you’d like, dears.” she tells you with a kind wink, thrusting the set of arms bearing all of the rain repellers a little further for your inspection. 

Fives wastes little time in selecting a repeller with a sleek and subtle design, something he thinks you’d like, perhaps. He’s incredibly thoughtful in that and many other ways. It’s one of the many parts of him that you ache for in his absence, the fondness for his charisma and slight cheek only deepening when he’s away, aiding in the peacekeeping efforts now that the galaxy is largely free of the Separatists. (How strange that things fell apart so suddenly for them, following shortly after the rather untimely and unexplained death of Sheev Palpatine (that, surely, can’t be related, right?) just last year.) You know he’s not giving up the fight just because they say the Seppies have surrendered, not when there’s still work to be done to make the galaxy safer for everyone. 

Fives isn’t still fighting the good fight just for his brothers, but for you too. Every last far-flung outpost they capture, each bubble of resistance they burst, it’s always the same message that finds its way to you, no matter the time and no matter the distance. 

For the Republic. For my brothers. For my Kar’ta. Talk to you soon, sweet. 

Both of you thank the vendor, and set off on your way, imagining what curiosities and delights could be found by the two of you together on this cold Coruscanti morning here in the intergalactic market. With a cultural hotbed like this - a diverse focal point in the heart of the galaxy with a population of roughly two trillion that is Coruscant - there’s no telling what you and Fives will see, from the familiar to the fascinating. 

In a dramatic, sweeping gesture Fives invites you to lead the way into the heart of the market with a dizzying grin, promising to follow wherever you roam.

“After you, angel.” 

You’ll only be there for an hour before the increasingly-inclement weather decides to become a little more concerning. Those cotton-soft clouds, planted in the lofty airspace high over even the tallest sentient lifeforms’ head(s), are beginning to appear denser and darker than they were when you set off this morning. Weather reports you peek at while Fives discusses something with a Tatoonine-born vendor suggests you might have another hour before proper rainfall.

“You say the yarn’s a bantha-blend, right?” Fives clarifies, gingerly juggling a few twisted hanks of it in his hands to get a feel for the softness. “Would it work for projects meant for… say, kids?” The vendor’s eyes flick to you, just for a second, and you can imagine what she’s thinking. Your partner catches that too, so Fives clarifies further. “Someone I know had twins last year. Tryin’ to, uh, contribute to a special present for the little ones. Brother of mine got some good yarn from Naboo to represent the mother. I was asked to find something to represent their father while I was here, if I could.” 

As could be expected, the yarn-seller is now tittering excitedly about how sweet it is that he and this unspecified brother (who’s definitely either Jesse or Kix) are looking to put together something for this ‘someone they know’ who had twins. Sweet little twins who you’ve happened to see crawling around the floors of the senate building out of the corner of your eye, as a matter of fact. But you’ve been aware of the “open secret” nature of the Skywalker-Amidala twins for some time now, and know you’re supposed to treat it like it’s more of a classified matter than it is in reality. 

Yeah, how strange that Senator Amidala and General Skywalker spend a lot of time together. Or that little Luke and Leia show up in the Jedi Temple on occasion, just as a last minute “favor” to the Senator - of course! 

“Yes, the yarn should be appropriate for the little ones!” the vendor promises, exchanging the appropriate credits as change from what Fives hands her as payment before gingerly bagging the hanks of bantha-yarn for him. “You’ll find a card with the best care instructions with your purchase inside the bag. Thank you for your business, folks.” 

When you've stepped beyond the earshot of the yarn-seller, now again arm-in-arm with Fives as you meander the little sector that seems to be dedicated to all things Tatooine, you feel it's safe to tease. 

“You're getting better at lying, Fives.” 

“Mesh'la-” Fives warns you.

“Okay, okay… Stretching the truth, if that's what you insist on calling it, mister ARC trooper.” you add. 

Fives doubles down on the insistent, close to disapproving tone. “Mesh'la… I've told you several times now, you know why we treat it like a secret.” 

“I know, Fives, I was only teasing.” you promise, offering an apologetic expression. 

You understand the faux secrecy is largely in relation to the response of some members of the Jedi Council when the inevitable truth about Senator Amidala and not just one child, but two, came to light. There's been a great deal of speculation from the 501st Legion of Anakin Skywalker’s expulsion from the Order; speculation that has them worried. Selfless to the end, the Clones are just as concerned for the fate of their General as they are about their own.

You change the subject as you pass a stall brimming with food-based goods from the Outer Rim planet, a warm, spicy odor cutting through the ambient smell of chilled steel and duracrete surfaces. Looks to be samples of an alteration to bantha steak soup. Something being offered to the market-goers to warm them up as the temperatures fall day by day, or hour by hour.

“Remind me: ever tried any food from Tatooine?” 

“Some of it's decent.” Fives admits with a chuckle. “Or, it will at least beat having rations for every meal. But nothing beats your cooking, cyare.” 

Your cooking, among many things, is what Fives has been looking forward to most about today, about shore leave. A chance to come home, a chance to catch one another up on the things they’ve missed (things too important or lengthy to say over comms), and a chance for splitting a hearty meal practically invented for sharing with the ones who mean the most to us. Same thing with coming to the market. Fives didn’t want to do a little shopping just to see what was new on Coruscant; he wanted to spend a little time with you away from home first, maybe find something special to buy to mark the occasion.

To be home after so long is a very special thing indeed.

“Hope you’re in the mood for soup tonight.” It’s a little simple, you tell him, but no less comforting or flavorful. “Didn’t know how tired you’d be, when you came home this time.”

“You spoil me.” Fives murmurs lovingly, craning his neck for the moment to plant a sweet, gentle kiss in the crown of your hair and against your temple. His full lips are warm, and where you’ve been kissed seems to glow with that warmth compared to the surrounding chill. “What’d I do to deserve you, kar’ta?”

There’s that word again. Pronounced KARH-ta, as he’s taught you.

It's Mando’a, meaning heart.

“Well, you kept the galaxy safe,” you answer with a sweet smile, “I think that’s a pretty deserving reason, don’t you?”

The warm, heartened smile is all you have to see to know he feels the same way. He helped keep the galaxy safe, yes; of course he should deserve to live a good life with everything said and done. With every bill and law passed towards the betterment of life for Clones after the war, it tastes like the sweetest victory, over and over again. If there was anyone more deserving of thanks, it was the mighty multitude of men who came from Kamino. 

As you’re turning the corner of a larger booth within the sprawling outdoor market, Fives mentions that somewhere down the lane he can hear a live performer playing covers of popular songs on what must be a hallikset. 

“Must be another one of your little soldier tricks,” you tell him with an impressed shake of your head, “I can’t hear any of that. What’s a hell- hall-? Wait, what did you call it?” How did he pronounce that so easily? 

You’re not surprised with many a Clones’ proclivity to be little cultural sponges that Fives seems to have the answer ready for you before you can pull something out of your pocket to search up the instrument he mentioned for yourself. “Halliksets are seven-stringed instruments popular on Naboo. Here, let’s get a little closer.” Fives offers, leading the way ahead to where he hears the music coming from. He wants you to be able to hear it better, to experience it for yourself. Appreciate it fully.

You momentarily pity the player’s poor fingers once you get closer, noting how red with cold they are. Like you, the hallikset’s owner is wrapped in layers between a thick jacket, a gray hood and a long scarf wrapped around their neck. But with the beautiful way they play, plucking and strumming each perfectly tuned string, you wonder if they don't notice, or care. Perhaps the lack of gloves to keep their hands safely warded against the cold is worth it to them for the amount of credits they're pulling in. There's several fistfuls at least, all piled up in the open instrument case. 

“Wow… I don't think I've ever seen one before, but it's beautiful; it's a beautiful instrument.” you offer your observation to Fives after spending a few minutes to simply stand and listen to the performer. Buskers, you believe they're called, playing for voluntary donations in public settings. 

The busker offers an appreciative grin, playing on smoothly without pausing the performance for even a moment as they bob their head in thanks for your compliment. 

“Certainly is, mesh'la.” Fives agrees. He dips a hand into one of his pockets, and adds a couple of credits to the pile in the instrument case. As a way of thanks, the song that was currently being played is masterfully morphed into one of the more familiar military anthems of the Republic, just for a moment. 

The performer, a young-looking Twi'lek, has of course recognized that Fives is a Clone, and is hoping to acknowledge what the Republic has done for Ryloth in some small way by playing something a soldier would recognize. Fives is equal parts flattered and amused, even if he himself may never have gone to Ryloth, that he's being thanked and acknowledged like this. 

“Heh. You're welcome, kid.” 

Putting his free arm around you as you decide to listen to the hallikset a little longer, you and Fives listen to the best recognized music forms of Ryloth start up from the instrument as further homage. You lay your head on your boyfriend's shoulder, leaning into his side a little deeper with a placid smile, drinking in this moment. 

Close to an hour later, when more yarn for Hardcase, a few decorative knick knacks for your apartment, and some novelty sweets have ended up among your purchases, someone’s stomach rumbles in complaint shortly before the time you would typically consider having lunch. Luckily Echo has offered to help you locate something by sending you a file to a map of the market with all consumables stalls highlighted and labeled after checking in on how things are going for you and Fives. 

While Fives quickly speaks with his brother and squadmate, you check the weather. Steadily, it’s only gotten colder, and in efforts to keep you warmer, Fives has sweetly given up his thick-knit hat for the time being until you come across another stall that offers cold-weather wear. There, he’ll find another hat for himself, suggesting you keep his. The fluffy curls of his clone-standard crew cut have been flattened a bit by the hat, amusingly. As a sweet gesture, you try to fix up his hair for him while listening to what Echo has to say.

 Force willing, as it’s only becoming more and more likely that it'll rain, that will be after you grab a quick bite to eat. 

(Pantoran food sounds good right about now.)

“Me? Oh, all was quiet on the homefront - busy playing a strategy game against Rex. Until we got ambushed by a couple of giggling womp rats.”

Fives grins like a nexu. “Brothers’ kids or the General’s?”

“Tup’s little boys,” Echo answers jovially between peals of bubbling laughter in the background, “things are getting a bit rowdy here, so you two better go. Enjoy your lunch and the rest of the market; I’ll tell everyone you both said hi.” 

“Thanks Echo.”

“We’ll talk later, Echo.” you promise. “Also, I’m keeping your brother all to myself tonight.” Echo’s laugh promises that’s fine by him. He trusts you’ll take good care of Fives, like he takes good care of you in turn. He’ll pass along the information that everyone will see Fives again the following morning. The Clone with the Aurebesh ‘5’ permanently inked on his right temple can only offer an eager smile. 

A homemade meal and the promise of staying the night when it wasn’t previously discussed? What better way to end a day than that? Fives walks with a spirited spring in his step, just short of tugging you along after him at first before you match his pace and revel in that excitement together. 

Excitement that quickly turns to surprise with the first of the rain starting to fall over the market. There’s a particularly heavy raindrop that lands with an audible spatter on Fives’ left shoulder. He chuckles, the sound somewhere between an amused ‘of course…’ and a nervous ‘uh-oh’. He’s patting down his deep pockets for wherever he’s stashed the rain repeller purchased earlier, since it could very well start raining steadily by the time you reach one of the food stalls that peddles any Pantoran cuisine.

“Did you feel that?” he asks, eyes flicking skyward between some of the many imposing, glinting skyscrapers that make up the surface of the ecumenopolis. It’s a small relief that you’re not quite out in the open, like you would be if the market had taken place in a location like Monument Plaza, at the least. If the rain got intense, fast, Fives could easily squeeze the pair of you into a dry alcove somewhere in the absence of the repeller now in his hands.

“Hm? Feel what?” you wonder just before you feel another droplet glance off your own coat. “Oh.” 

So much for getting lunch…

“It’s starting to rain.” the two of you say at once. And while it’s not quite sleet, it certainly feels close to it every time the stray droplet finds a patch of exposed skin. The idle prattle of buyers and sellers shifts in tone; a few surprised shouts here and there while vendors urgently cover their wares, and a few shoppers brushing past panickedly exclaim that they’re faced with taking the long way home because of street-closures tied to the event-space.

Thankfully that won’t be the case for you and Fives with the direction you came from your apartment, so long as the dispersing crowds allow. 

Opening the repeller, Fivers now pulls you closer, trying to fit it over both of you best he can. “Here, mesh’la. Wouldn’t want you to get cold and wet… That wouldn’t be a very pleasant combination, now would it?”

“No,” you agree with a little wag of your head, “buuuut, heading back to my apartment and calling in an order for delivery sure does.”

Fives brings up an excellent suggestion while you busy yourself with making sure all your purchases are safely in your arms before the pair of you about-face and make for home. “With a movie to watch, too, right?” Oh Maker, there are so many films you could choose from to watch; there’s always something new that you learn your beloved hasn’t seen, being so wrapped up in the pan-galactic war and its aftermath. Even films you don’t particularly care for become tolerable when you’re snuggled on some comfortable two-seater together, your head planted against his chest as he runs his hands through your hair in idle fashion.

You’re wholeheartedly in support, already impatient to burrow into that large, fluffy blanket with him.

Cupping his face in one hand, you kiss his cheek best you can as you walk, copying his deliberate stride. “That sounds like a great idea, Fives.” It’s kind of a shame that the weather put a bit of a damper on how long you had in mind about spending at the market, you add with a soft sigh.

He smiles, encouraging you not to let it get you down. “Not gonna let a little rain ruin my first day of shore leave, so long as I get to spend it with you, ner kar’ta.” Fives promises, being his sweet, joking self by downplaying the amount of rain. It’s gotten past ‘just a little rain’ at this point in time, with puddles forming atop the duracrete surfaces, some with multi-color veneers to them where the oils previously soaked into the street float to the top. 

As the freezing rain builds in strength, it patters and trickles off the rain repeller in thick rivulets while Fives holds it over each of your heads - it’s kind of a tight fit underneath, but neither mind. Making sure both of you and your purchases remain relatively dry means it’s a slow, steady march back home. It’s probably taking you twice as long to get back home than it was to get there. You could be taking some long, convoluted path, and you wouldn’t mind a bit with the way Fives has one of his arms so lovingly, kindly wrapped around the small of your back, both to hold you close, and to make sure you hear him when he talks.

“I’ve got a few stories to tell from this last deployment, besides ‘Case breaking his leg.” he starts, a note of mirth in his tone. “But there was one thing I kept thinking about, more than anything.” Fives adds, the slow cadence suggesting this is important.

Before you permit your mind to race with the possibilities, the many guesses you have, you bob your head, encouraging him to go on. 

“I’m listening.”

He wastes no time, sure of his words, but maybe not how to say them. “I wanted to ask if maybe now’s a good time to… Y’know. We might start thinking about a couple of things, now that the war’s over, and things are getting safer…?” You could practically swoon, knowing what he’s trying to tell you. What he’s thought about while he’s been deployed with those who’ve chosen to remain in service to the GAR for just a little longer, aiming to finish the job they’d been made for. 

For the Republic. For his brothers.

For you, his heart.

How would you feel about spending the rest of our lives together, cyare?

“Sounds like a good conversation to have over dinner.” is all you’ll suggest for the time being, bringing his face close once more for another caste kiss with the door of your apartment in sight. 

If you’d known he’d had this on his mind just a little sooner, or there was no premature rainfall to dampen your plans, maybe you would have suggested taking the long way home after all, just for the fun of it.

Taglist: @msmeredithrose Taglist form can be found here if you would like to make sure you don't miss a fic in the future. Thank you for your patience, and thanks for reading and requesting. 🩷

[Masterlist] [Requests: CLOSED]

[ripneteyam]

↑ play for full experience ↑

when i die

i’m going to come back..

as one of

these.

[theangrypomeranian]

Chapter 16: Reunion

Summary:

“Tina, Tina,” he whispered reverently, his lips grazing over her hairline and making her shudder. “Baby.” She pulled back to stare at him, really taking him in. He looked so tired, the bags under his eyes so dark they looked like bruises. There was a tiny scar over one eyebrow and it looked like his nose had been broken. But it was him. It was still him. And she loved him. Taking a deep breath, she looked into his eyes, determination filling her chest as she opened her mouth to say– “I love you.” They blinked at each other, seeming shocked that it had come out of the other’s mouth. Then they laughed, shaking their heads as his hands went up to cup her face. “I love you,” he murmured, rubbing his nose against hers. Tears fell down her face and she smiled at him, feeling like she was on cloud nine. “I love you. I love you so much!” Then his mouth was on hers and everything felt right in the world.

Read the rest of chapter 16 here.

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

HSH AU: Home is Where the Heart is

Mark keeps hearing and seeing things whenever near the Torres Family Home, and despite Cesar not feeling like anything is wrong, Mark can’t shake off the feeling of being watched.

TW: Friendship problems, paranoia, hallucinations, body/face horror, blood/gore, implied possession

Notes: this is. the longest fic. I’ve posted here, being around 10,000 words long, so. long read. BUT I’m pretty proud of this fic, and I hope you guys like this new au and the world in it! There’s. so much I’m excited to show, and this is just scratching the surface :)

( @deadmuttsbones [tagging cause they co-own the au])

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September 9th, 1992. 10:06 PM.

Mark couldn’t shake the unease in his gut that night. He could’ve said no; the option to refuse Cesar’s offer to hang out and stay the night at his place was there. He could’ve told Cesar how he really felt about it, yelling at him about the discomfort and dread he felt in his chest every time he stepped through the front door. Yet he didn’t, and now he was driving the long road to Cesar’s home, all while rain bounced off of his windshield and the radio played the same songs he had heard a hundred times.

Mark glanced at the rear-view mirror, seeing how his brown hair was a mess, and how he had dark circles around his eyes, sighing before glancing at the suitcase in the backseat; packed for only one night. He was wearing a black, V-neck T-shirt, a golden cross hanging in front of his chest. He had a pair of worn blue jeans over his legs, along with plain grey sneakers. His hands tapped the steering wheel with the music as he tried to shake off the sinking feeling deep inside of him, repeating a simple phrase to himself in his head: “only one night.” Besides, Cesar was going to be there, and it wouldn’t hurt to see a friend after a week of not talking to each other, right? It wasn’t like Mark had anyone else to hang out with.

Mark’s car drove down the wet asphalt road, slowing down and stopping next to the curb, his green eyes staring at the house in to the side of his vehicle, taking in a deep breath in an attempt to ease the tension. It was a one story home, with plain, reddish-brown outer walls, with a white garage to the left of the front door, which had a small, grey stone porch in front of it, with a planting pot to the left of that. The living room window to the right of the front door had yellow light pouring out in between the curtains, and Mark could hear faint murmuring as he got out of his car, pushing the door behind him closed. The rain hit his hair and shoulders as he stared at the home, his lips pursed and his shoulders tense as he gazed at the light coming from the window. He shook his left arm by his side as he swung open the backseat door, pulling out his suitcase and placing it on the grass of the front lawn. With a huff, he slammed the door shut, all before he heard the front door open.

“Hey!” A voice said as Mark turned to face where it came from. He saw a figure in the doorway, barely visible aside from his silhouette as he waved Mark over. “Come on, it’s pouring out here!”

Mark took in a breath, picking up his suitcase with one hand, holding his other above his face to prevent the rain from hitting him in the eyes. He jogged across the yard, his sneakers slamming against the concrete driveway before he ran into the home, brushing past the person in the doorway as he closed the door behind Mark. “You said you’d be here at like…eight. It’s ten already.” The man said as he turned towards Mark, who was setting his suitcase next to the couch, which sat in front of the window, before turning towards him.

“Yeah sorry, Ces…just…bad weather.” Mark sighed.

Cesar sighed quietly, walking past Mark towards the TV, turning the volume of it down, the sound of gunfire and yelling from the old western no longer drowning out their words. Cesar was a decently tall young man with tan-colored skin, with black wavy hair and a faint mustache on his upper lip. He wore a white T-shirt, along with red shorts, with a pair of plain white socks covering his feet and no doubt becoming charged with static from the shaggy carpet of the living room. Mark watched as Cesar walked out of the room, calling for his mother to tell her about their guest arriving as Mark sat on the couch, shifting in his seat as he attempted to get comfortable. Mark stared at the TV, hoping the sound of the programs will drown out the sound coming from directly behind it. He glanced up, looking back down and shifting his position on the couch again when he saw it. How stupid; he was scared of a fucking clock.

The grandfather clock in question was tall, made of reddish-brown wood, carved with intricate patterns. The pendulum behind the glass swung, the ticking of the clock echoing in the living room as its hands twitched with every second. Carved, wing-like pieces of wood protruded from the top of the clock, the shadow of them flickering onto the red, striped wallpaper from the light of the TV and the lamp on the table next to it. Mark stared at the clock’s face, seeing as the time neared 10:15 as he swallowed the lump in his throat. His eyes fixed on the center of its face, the sound of the TV being drowned out by the sound of the pendulum swinging from side to side-

“Hey Mark, you gonna sleep out here tonight?” Mark was taken out of his thoughts by Cesar, who was standing in the archway leading to the kitchen. “Or do you want like…a few blankets to sleep in the bedroom?”

“Oh…u-uhh…the bedroom.” Mark glanced at the clock again.

“Cool.” Cesar gave Mark a quick thumbs up. “You can sleep by the bed if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah that’s fine.” Mark coughed.

Cesar’s friendly smile faded as his brows furrowed. “…You alright, Mark?”

“Yeah, I’m…yeah.” Mark sighed, looking down as he rubbed the golden cross hanging from his neck with his thumb.

“…Alright, I guess.” Cesar said.

Mark looked around the room, seeing the multiple photos hanging on the walls, along with the furniture before he looked down at something that caught his eye; a grey cat bed resting beside the clock. It was empty.

“Hey, where’s your cat?” Mark asked.

“Oh…yeah, gah…Johnny…hasn’t been seen for a while.”

“What? Why?”

“We don’t know.” Cesar sighed. “We’ve been asking the neighbors but…no one’s seen him.”

“Shit…” Mark said under his breath. “I’m…sorry dude.”

“I’m sure we’ll find him, it just might…take a while.”

There was silence among the friends, Cesar noticing Mark shifting in his seat as his eyes darted around the room.

“…Do you even want to be here?” Cesar asked.

Mark’s breath hitched slightly, his chest feeling as tight as his throat. “…I mean…I’d like to hang out with you.”

“Yeah, but do you actually want to be here?” Cesar repeated.

Mark paused before he looked at Cesar with a pensive look in his eyes. “No.”

“Then why did you—”

“Cause I wanted to say I was sorry, okay?” Mark stated. “For…y’know…what happened last week.”

“That’s…it?” Cesar scoffed slightly. “Dude, you could’ve…told me at school or even through the phone.”

“I-I don’t know, I just wanted to talk to you.” Mark said. “Like…actually talk to you.”

“…About what?” Cesar asked before the two of them heard footsteps coming from the kitchen.

“Marco, I put a comforter and a few blankets and pillows on Cesar’s bed.” Ms. Torres appeared in the doorway, her Spanish accent present as she spoke. “You can make your bed on the ground, and if it’s not comfortable, I can get you some quilts.”

“Thanks…miss.” Mark said.

Ms. Torres was a shorter, middle aged woman with shoulder length, wavy dark brown hair and deep tan skin. She wore a black cardigan over a white shirt, along with a silver necklace. “Okay, Niño, I’m going to bed, come get me if you or Mark need anything.”

“Alright, mamá, see you tomorrow.” Cesar said as his mother pulled him into an embrace before walking down the hall, closing the door to her bedroom.

“Cesar, don’t you ever feel like…you’re…being watched?”

The question made a pit form in Cesar’s stomach as he turned towards Mark, who was sitting on the couch, staring at him with anticipation; expecting something from Cesar.

“I mean…yeah, I have, but…who hasn’t?” The corner of Cesar’s mouth rose slightly in a nervous smile, fading as quickly as it appeared. “Sometimes you just…feel like that, there doesn’t have to be a reason to it.”

“Do you ever hear…b…breathing?”

Cesar’s throat felt tight.

“Like…not even…from anything in particular just…almost…everywhere here.” Mark continued.

“…Mark…what are you even…talking about?” Cesar asked. “I…look, I just wanted us to spend tonight just hanging out, without the weird shit—”

“Do you?” Mark seemed aggressive with his question, leaning forward as he stared at Cesar’s eyes, being able to make out the concern in his stare. Cesar glanced around the room, shifting his weight onto one foot as he stared at the ground; thinking.

“…Yes.” Cesar’s voice was quiet, almost a squeak.

Mark let out a breath, shaking his head slightly as one of his hands clasped his necklace. “Then why…why have you been acting like I’ve been crazy this whole time if you knew?”

           Cesar didn’t respond to his question, rather looking towards a bookshelf and looking back to Mark. “We have some…board games.” Cesar stated. “Monopoly? Cards? Do you want to…play anything? I-I can dig out the SNES in my closet—”

           “It’s…fine. I’ll just…watch TV.” Mark responded, brows furrowing on his face as he looked away from Cesar. He could see Cesar lower his head in his peripheral vision as he walked away, sighing and scratching the back of his head. He disappeared behind the archway as Mark stared at the TV, the black and white images reflecting off of his eyes. He watched as the two characters in the western spoke to each other:

           “You know, I don’t see why I stay with that bastard.” One of them stated, looking towards the taller cowboy next to him. “All he does is cause trouble for me, and for everyone else he’s around.”

           “Well, Billy, I’d say it’s about time you let him go.” The older man stated. “Besides, you always have me, and we have a home you can stay in, food you can eat. You don’t need him if you think he’s nothing but trouble for you.”

           “I guess so, Mr. Parker.” Billy chuckled. “Guess I’m…right at home here, huh?”

           “That you are. You’re always welcome here, and never forget that.” Parker laughed. “We always love guests. You’ll love it here, Heathcliff. You’ll love it here.”    

           Mark looked away from the screen as his eyes were drug upwards, back at the grandfather clock, hearing the characters in the TV laughing despite their noses bleeding heavily. Mark’s eyes couldn’t be moved, hearing the clunks and ticks coming from the inside of the clock, faint bells ringing in Mark’s head. He couldn’t look away, sitting up as he stared at the clock’s face, the hands shifting and the pendulum swinging, calming, in a way. Maybe Cesar was right, and he was just on edge. Maybe he deserved to lean back, sink into the couch, and let himself relax.

           Mark didn’t want to. He didn’t want to relax, feeling as if his eyes burnt as he watched the clock, every sound aside from the ticking fading into oblivion; all until he felt a hand be pressed on his shoulder.

           “Mark?” Cesar’s voice shook, and when Mark looked up at his face, it almost seemed like he was…scared.

           “What do you want?” Mark asked.

           “What the fuck, you scared the shit out of me,” Cesar said frantically. “I tried talking to you but you didn’t respond; dude I was wondering if I should call an ambulance—”

           “What? You…never said anything.” Mark rubbed his eyes, suddenly feeling as though they were dried out.

           “You’ve been staring into space for over a fucking hour, Mark.”

           Mark looked at him quizzically before glancing back at the clock, heart sinking when he saw the hour hand nearing midnight. “W…but I…I don’t…get it.” Mark muttered.

           “I tried talking to you but you just mumbled shit at me and never even looked at me.” Cesar continued. “Dude, you’re…seriously fucking worrying me.”

           “I…fuck…” Mark pressed his elbows on his knees, grasping his head with his hands as he stared at the carpet.

           “…Maybe…you should go to sleep, dude.” Cesar suggested. “I mean…when was the last time you slept well anyway? You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

           “…Yeah…I haven’t.” Mark muttered under his breath, trying to push down the feeling of nausea in his gut. “…Fuck.”

 Mark could still hear the clock, even as he laid on the makeshift bed on the floor in Cesar’s bedroom. He stared into the darkness, hearing Cesar’s faint breathing from the bed in the corner. Mark normally took off his necklace before bed, however he found himself still clutching it hard enough in his hand to leave indents in his skin. He turned onto his side, pulling the covers over himself as his eyes darted around the room before he shut his eyes, curling into himself as he tried to fall—

GONG.

GONG.

GONG.

The clock’s bells rang throughout the home, startling Mark out of his half asleep state entirely. He sat still for a moment, trembling slightly before groaning, throwing his blanket off of him before standing up. “Ces—” Mark paused as he stared at the bed, seeing nothing but neatly made bed sheets and pillows where Cesar once was. Mark stared at the empty bed as he felt his throat become tight, hearing the loud, echoing bells from the living room.

He turned towards the bedroom door, seeing faint blue light coming from the dark hall. He stared at it, swallowing the lump in his throat as he walked towards the door, tempted to claw his hair out when he felt that the ground was damp. He felt the carpet of the bedroom turn into the wooden floors of the hallway, puddles formed on the floor as if it had rained indoors. His heart sank when he stared down the hallway, seeing that there were more doors than before. The four doors on the side and the one behind him turned into eight, then sixteen, then thirty six. The hallway stretched on both ways, reminding Mark of a hotel’s eerily empty and long hallways. He silently stepped towards the door next to Cesar’s, attempting to open it, only to find the doorknob remained unmoved.

Mark’s breathing clouded the cool air in front of him as he looked down the hallway, seeing a white, square shaped light at the end of the expansive hall, the sound of the bells ringing in his ears, joining the sound of static in the overwhelming choir, making Mark let go of his necklace just to cover his ears. He walked down the hallway, seeing the light slowly grow closer with every step. He wanted to scream, though deep inside he knew it would only result in a wheezy whisper and nothing more. He wanted out of that damned hallway, the many doors feeling so familiar yet so alien at the same time.

His wet socks hit the wooden floors as he walked, all until the wood felt oddly soft, and warm. He looked down, seeing that the wood grain of the floorboards was beginning to twist and look less like wood and similar to-

Mark didn’t want to think of what the veins meant.

Mark looked up, seeing where the light was coming from clearly; an analog television, resting on a table half sunken into the ground. The bells had finally grown silent, and the static was all that remained. Mark waved his hand by his side as he attempted to push down the overwhelming nausea he felt from the putrid smell, as well as desperately trying to brush off the feeling of being followed. He stood in front of the TV, raising his hand towards it, pointing a finger towards the power button, and clicking it. The screen shut off, delving the hall in darkness as Mark gasped, trying to turn the TV back on, only to find it unresponsive.

“Fuck…fuck…please…” Mark whimpered as he stood still, hearing his own heartbeat in his ears, unable to ignore how it sounded like a ticking clock. He wanted to wake up, knowing it was nothing but a nightmare. Please fucking wake up.

“You’re always welcome here, Mark.”

Cesar’s choked whisper into his right ear felt like it was burning itself into his head.

Mark awoke with a gasp, feeling the shaggy carpet under his body and face. He was drenched in sweat, his breathing heavy, and his body feeling even heavier. He felt the carpet stuck to his face as he pushed his upper body off of the floor, feeling the heaviness begin to wane, even though his arms felt weak. He looked up, eyes widening when he saw something towering over his prone body; the grandfather clock. Mark scrambled to his feet, staring at the clock as he shook off the exhaustion and heaviness in his body. His chest heaved with every harsh breath as he grasped his necklace tightly, glancing through the kitchen to see the back hallway, where Cesar’s bedroom was.

Mark pushed open Cesar’s door, his silhouette blocking the hallway light as he stared into the room. Darkness cloaked his form, his face concealed in blackness, with only two faint dots of light from his eyes visible. He stared at Cesar’s still, unconscious body before he slowly approached Cesar’s bed, lifting an arm over him before speaking quietly, yet urgently.

“Cesar.”

Cesar’s eyes flicked open as he breathed in harshly, feeling Mark’s hand rest on his shoulder before he quickly sat up, smacking the arm away and staring at Mark with wide eyes, only letting out his breath when he saw it was him.

“M…Mark?” Cesar mumbled.

“Yeah?”

“…What? What fuckin…time is it?” Cesar asked, happy when he began to make out Mark’s face in the darkness, no longer just seeing the shines of his eyes.

“I don’t know.” Mark responded with a trembling voice. “C…Can you come with me for a second…?”

Cesar stared at him, watching Mark back out of the room before Cesar slid out of bed, following Mark through the hallway and into the living room. Mark stopped in front of the clock, pointing at it with a shaking hand before looking back at Cesar. “W-What…do you feel looking at this?” Mark questioned.

“…What?”

“Please, just…a-answer the…the question, Cesar.” Mark stammered over his words, not making eye contact with Cesar as he talked.

“I…I-I don’t…know?” Cesar responded.

“Please, you…y-you have to feel something looking at it, right?” Mark looked towards Cesar for approval.

“Mark, what’s going on with you, you’ve been talking about my house nonstop every time I’ve seen you for, what, a month?”

“Yeah, and I-I’m fuckin’ tired of you just…ignoring me,” Mark said, brows furrowed and his shoulders tense. “You told me that you’ve heard the breathing too, felt like you’re being watched, yet you keep pretending that I’m just out of my fucking mind!”

“Mark, I just wanted to hang out with you; a normal night for ONCE.” Cesar said, walking in front of the clock, blocking Mark’s view. “What the fuck is going on; you refuse to fucking tell me anything!”

“Cesar, there’s something seriously fucking wrong here,” Mark snapped. “I’ve told you EVERYTHING I’ve felt about this place, yet you refuse to just LISTEN to me!”

“Mark, calm down—”

“NO, I’M TIRED OF THIS,” Mark stepped towards Cesar as tears ran down his cheeks and his speech became slurred. “YOU THINK I’M FUCKING CRAZY, DON’T YOU?!”

“Mark—” Cesar felt Mark shove him away, stumbling backwards before hitting the clock, cracking the glass covering the cavity holding the pendulum before he fell to the ground. He laid on the ground, pressing a hand against the sore part of his back as Mark glared at him; all before Mark’s stare began to soften. Mark grimaced, trying to hold back tears before covering his face, sobbing into his hands.

“Fuck…Cesar, I’m…so fucking sorry.”

“Get out.”

Mark looked through his fingers to see Cesar staring back at him, the glare feeling like twenty daggers piercing his heart.

“…Cesar?”

“GET OUT.” Cesar repeated loudly, making Mark flinch as he pointed towards the front door. “If you don’t like this place, GET OUT!”

Mark stumbled backwards, looking at his suitcase, which sat by the couch as Cesar continued. “I’ve…had enough of this SHIT, Mark.” Cesar spat. “No…no I don’t think you’re crazy, I think you need THERAPY.”

Mark chest heaved with every sob, the one arm not clutching his sweat-stained shirt shaking in front of his torso. “I-I…shit…fuck…I-I-I—”

“I’ll see you at school, Mark.” Cesar stated, standing up. “Go home. Get help.”

Mark turned away from Cesar, storming towards his suitcase and grabbing its handle before freezing, feeling a pit in his chest. He could smell something similar to copper, or old coins. He shook his head, not bothering to grab anything he may have left behind before bolting towards the door, swinging it open and walking outside, slamming the door shut behind him.

Cesar glanced at the clock, seeing the cracked glass and the small shards of it breaking off of it and falling to the floor. It smelled of iron in the room, and when Cesar looked up at the clock’s face, he saw something running from the grooves around it, dripping down the wood before Cesar hesitantly wiped it off with his fingers. He looked at the liquid on his fingers, rubbing it with his thumb, staining his hand with red. “…W…what?”

Mark threw open the back door of his car, tossing the suitcase inside without much trouble as he stifled a sob. He closed the door before opening the driver’s side door and sitting inside. He closed the door, and buckled his seatbelt before grasping the steering wheel with enough force to make his knuckles pop. He grimaced as tears ran down his cheeks. Way to go Mark; you lost another one. Maybe you never needed Cesar anyway, Mark. Maybe you never needed—

“FUCK!” Mark shouted in his car. He slammed his hand against the wheel, causing the horn to blare for a moment before he crossed his arms on the steering wheel, lowering his head and pressing his forehead on it. “…Damn it. God damn it…”

 Cesar woke up later than he normally did the next morning, finally waking up around 11 in the morning, rather than his normal 8 AM. He was wrapped and buried in his blankets, barely visible from beneath them before he heard a knock on his bedroom door. He stirred awake, pushing the blankets off of his head as he groggily stared at the door as it opened, revealing his mother. “Oh…sorry for waking you up, have you seen Marco?” She asked.

Cesar blinked at her, sighing before turning over onto his side. “He’s…he left.” He mumbled tiredly. “…Last night.”

“Did he tell you why?”

Cesar thought for a second, or as much as he could while half asleep. “…No.”

“Oh…are you alright?” Ms. Torres stepped into the room, folding her hands in front of her as she looked at Cesar worriedly.

“…Y…I dunno.” Cesar responded. “Just…weird.”

“Well…alright; breakfast is ready whenever you want it.” Ms. Torres walked out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her as Cesar pulled the covers over his head. He felt himself drifting off, ready to sleep until noon until the door opened again.

“Oh! Almost forgot, you have that recital this Monday, don’t forget it,” Ms. Torres said. “In fact, I’d recommend you practice a bit before then.”

“Ye…yeah…whatever.” Cesar heard the door close once again, ready to fall back asleep until his eyes shot open. “Oh…shit.” He turned onto his back, pressing his hands against his face; the piano recital. How was he going to concentrate on playing after everything that happened the night before? He wished he could’ve pushed it off another week to give him time to decompress and relax, though it didn’t seem like he was lucky enough for that.

“‘Practice a bit before then’, as if…I haven’t been practicing nearly every day for a month.” Cesar muttered as he sat up. He opened his closet door, seeing his black suit hung up next to the shelves, along with his white dress shirt right beside it. He grabbed a pair of jeans and a simple black t-shirt before closing the doors.

He walked out of his bedroom, turning towards the bathroom to get dressed before flicking on the light. He looked into the medicine cabinet’s mirror in front of him for a moment, pausing before he could close the door, staring at the mirror his brows furrowed. His eyes looked towards the reflection of the hallway behind him, seeing a portion of the kitchen. It was empty, though when he turned behind him, his breathed hitched slightly, as he could see his mother placing plates and food on the table. He turned back towards the mirror, his unease not waning when he saw that the kitchen was still empty in the reflection. He let out a shaky breath as he backed out of the room, deciding to change in his bedroom instead, unnoticing of the figure in the kitchen archway in the reflection.

Cesar quickly got himself dressed, walking out of his bedroom and into the kitchen, staring at the table before his mother noticed him. “Would you like some eggs?” She asked, though Cesar barely looked at her.

“I’m not hungry right now…” Cesar stated, glancing at his mother before walking into the living room, much to her dismay. He walked towards the couch, seeing the sun’s light bleeding into the home from the window, hitting the carpet and even the furniture on the opposite wall. Cesar’s eyes followed the light for a second before they landed on something. He stared at it quizzically, pausing before stepping towards it; the clock. He looked at the glass, seeing the pendulum swing back and forth as it always did, however, Cesar couldn’t help but feel uneasy when he realized that the glass was fixed, with not a single crack or blemish in sight. It was as if the event the previous night never happened at all.

Cesar crouched down, lightly grazing his fingers across the newly-fixed glass before speaking. “Hey, mom, did you fix the clock last night?” He asked.

“…No? Was it broken?”

The answer made a pit form in his stomach as he turned back towards the clock, swallowing his unease and standing up. “N…No, just…curious.”

Mark’s shaky breathing was the only sound in his bedroom, sitting on his knees on his bed as he stared, unblinking, at the wall in front of him. He scribbled with the black marker in his hand, leaving thin, dark lines on the grey drywall. Organic-appearing pictures formed from his mindless drawing, lines branching off like veins, with small, scribbled eyes peeking through them. He didn’t know why he was doing this; he even had a notebook he could draw in, but it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t get out his thoughts in any other way. He had to.

A knock rang from his bedroom door, though Mark barely heard it, continuing to draw even as his hands were stained with ink. It was only when the second knock rang that Mark paused, slowly turning towards the door as he stared at it with dry, bloodshot eyes. Blood oozed down from his nostrils, dripping over his mouth and chin, though he didn’t seem to react to the taste of iron.

“Mark?” It was his mother. “…You haven’t been out of your room in a while, are you alright?”

Mark took a moment to respond, blinking as he regained his bearings. “…Yeah.”

“You sure? Do you need anything?”

“No, Mom.” Mark responded, looking down at his stained hands; he needed to wash them off, the best he can, anyway. “I’m fine, just…tired.”

“Alright, just…remember to take care of yourself okay?”

“…Yeah. I…I-I will.” He looked back towards his drawings, brows furrowing as his eyes grazed over the lines. He shook his head, looking around his room before his eyes focused on something just barely out of view in his open closet; a poster, one of a horror movie he liked to watch. He hopped off of his bed, grabbing the poster, along with a small box of pushpins before climbing back onto his bed, breath heavy as he stared at the drawings, all before he rolled out the poster and held it against the wall, securing it with the pins. He didn’t even want to see them himself, so why would the others?

Mark opened his bedroom door after he finished hanging up the poster, closing the door behind him, seeing the stairway leading downstairs before he turned to his left, where the upstairs bathroom was. He stared into the dark room before flicking on the light, turning towards the mirror and seeing the state he was in. His wavy brown hair was covering his left eye, almost being a blessing, knowing how his other eye appeared. He had a dull purple ring over his sunken eyes, with the eyes themselves being bloodshot and red.  He seemed paler than usual, though he swore he looked better the night before. He was wearing his pale grey sweatshirt, along with his cross necklace of course. He hated the way he looked; he had acne from stress, and his hair was a complete mess. He hated the crimson streaks going down his top lip, with every wipe of his hand only making it smear across his lower face. He hated it.

The faucet was leaking, dripping water as he stared deep into his own reflection. It dripped in rhythm, with every time the water fell onto the porcelain below making Mark want to scratch his ears off with his nails.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Trip.

Trik.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Mark’s hands shook as he breathed in deeply, grimacing as he stared at himself. He couldn’t take it, raising a fist before throwing it into the mirror, cracks spreading from the impact as shards exploded onto the countertop. Mark screamed, pulling his arm back and stumbling into the wall, sliding down as he stared at his fist. His knuckles were bloody, with shards half protruding out of his skin, tearing it and causing the crimson to drip down his arm.

He couldn’t find anything to say, only gasping and grasping his wrist as he stared at the blood. He could hear his mother running up the stairs, and he knew he had no explanation to his action. He barely even recognized the sound of the door opening until it hit his foot, hearing his mother’s voice worriedly asking him what happened. It was nothing more than noise to him. He could hear the pulsing in his head again as he sat, unmoving on the bathroom floor. He didn’t know what he was doing anymore, or even why.

He was scared.

--

September 12th, 1992. 6:46 PM.

 Cesar hadn’t slept well the entire weekend.

He could feel his exhaustion creeping up on him as he adjusted the red bowtie around his neck, looking at himself in the mirror as he centered it on his shirt collar. Despite his neatly done hair, combed to the side as best as it could, and his spotless black tuxedo, the bags under his eyes alluded to his less than energetic mood. He adjusted the rose pinned to his lapel until it looked good enough before taking another look at himself in the mirror, taking in a deep breath before letting it go, shutting the light off before leaving the bathroom.

He walked down the hallway as he fidgeted with his dress shirt cuffs, feeling a pressure in his chest; he couldn’t decipher whether he was anxious about the recital in little more than two hours, or the stress he felt creeping up inside of him from the past few days. He hadn’t been able to shake of the nausea in his stomach, though he pressed it down anyway. It wasn’t like he was going to make his mother worry. He was better than that.

Cesar walked into the living room, sighing as he sat on the couch, grasping his knees with his strangely clammy hands. He took in slow, deep breaths, just like his therapist told him, though it didn’t seem to relieve the sinking feeling in his chest. He glanced around the living room, feeling oddly…unnerved by the red wallpaper; did it seem almost…redder than usual? He looked towards the corner near the ceiling, eyes squinting when he spotted something leaking from it, dripping down the striped wallpaper. It was almost invisible, blending in with the wall almost seamlessly. Cesar couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps…Mark was right to be concerned—

“Niño, are you ready?” Ms. Torres walked into the room, dressed in a black cardigan, black shirt, along with a floral skirt. “We’re supposed to be there in a half hour.”

“…I thought it was a couple hours…away.” Cesar asked, eyes still fixated on the strange substance leaking from the walls before looking towards his mother.

“It’s nearly 8 o’clock,” Ms. Torres said after taking a glance at the grandfather clock, seeing that it was 7:49 PM.  “You need to be there by 8:30, remember?”

Cesar stared off at nothing in particular as his brows furrowed. “Yeah…of...of course.” He looked down at the coffee table, his eyes focusing on the stack of papers resting next to the TV. “Schubert’s Serenade” was written above the music notes, a song he was all too familiar with; even remembering how often he practiced made his hands hurt. He sighed, slipping on his black dress shoes before grabbing the stack of papers, hoping the performance would help get his mind off of…everything.

He didn’t expect Mark to show up, nor did he particularly want to see him in the audience. He didn’t need this recital to be ruined by their personal drama.

Cesar’s deep feeling of discomfort didn’t subside, even as they drove down Mandela’s streets, the streetlights passing over their car. He glanced towards his mother, who was focused on the road as she drove, able to see in her face that she wasn’t affected by the strange aura Cesar felt; if anything, she seemed excited for Cesar’s performance more than Cesar himself was. Cesar let out a soft sigh, staring through the windshield as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

“…Do I…have to do this?”

The question made Ms. Torres glance at him with a weird look in her eyes. “Do you not want to? I thought you were looking forward to this.”

“Well, yeah but…just…gah, I don’t know, things have been…” Cesar paused for a moment as he thought to himself. “…Weird, lately…couldn’t this be done any other time?”

“Nervous?”

“…Yeah, honestly.”

“You’ll do great, I can feel it.” Ms. Torres smiled. “I’m sure everyone will love it.”

“Or just…laugh at me.” Cesar crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat.

“Oh, don’t say that,” Ms. Torres let out a nervous chuckle. “Hey, if nothing else, I’ll enjoy the performance. Even though I am a little biased.” She let out a short laugh as Cesar looked towards her, her sunny attitude doing nothing to help his mood. He didn’t have much time to think about getting out of the car and walking home however, as they were already there. As they parked, Cesar looked up at the building, seeing all the cars in the parking lot, the amount of which making his heart sink into his stomach.

“There are…a lot of people here.” He said quietly.

“Niño, look at me,” Ms. Torres looked at him with a soft gaze. “It’s going to be alright, just focus on the music. I’ll be there in the audience, and trust me…I won’t laugh at you.” She smiled softly. “I’m proud of you either way.”

Despite the worry in his eyes, Cesar smiled, taking in a deep breath before grabbing the music sheets and opening the door, stepping outside and following his mother to the front door. He felt the pressure in his chest finally begin to wane, though the hesitation he felt didn’t leave him as he hugged his mother and parted ways to go backstage. He stared at the music sheets, taking in yet another deep breath as he shut his eyes. “Focus…on the music.” He muttered under his breath. “Just…breathe.”

Ms. Torres took a seat in the auditorium, sitting next to a few other parents, presumably there for their own children’s performances along with her. She looked around the large room before placing her purse on her lap, digging through it before pulling out one of the larger objects inside of it; a personal camcorder. She held onto it, looking up towards the front of the room, seeing the large, jet black grand piano resting on the wooden stage. She couldn’t wait, even if she knew there were a few performances before Cesar’s. Sure, she was biased, but she knew Cesar was going to sweep the floor with the others, even if he was less confident in his abilities.

Cesar sat backstage, trying to ignore how uncomfortable the metal folding chair was as he looked over his music sheets, checking over and over that they’re in the correct order. He felt cold, and his hands shook despite the decent temperature in the room. He could hear someone on the stage, performing and playing music that would be calming, if Cesar didn’t know he was next on the list. He glanced up at the clock on the wall, it ticking ever so slightly, nearing 9:00. Despite how quiet the ticking was, each one felt like a drill in his skull. The deep breaths weren’t helping his nausea and borderline lightheadedness anymore, and his leg began to bounce up and down as he tried to push it all away.

“You’ve been practicing for a month now,” Cesar thought to himself. “You know it by heart; it’s going to be fine. You have to impress them. Don’t be a baby about this.”

He pressed his hand against his head as he worriedly stared at nothing in particular, shutting his eyes as he tried to think to himself. The music was fading away, and the sound of the audience clapping tore Cesar out of his train of thought, making him open his eyes and sit up completely straight. He suppressed the urge to hyperventilate as he saw the teenager that was on stage walk into the room, immediately leaving to join the audience, he presumed.

He stood up, holding his papers and approaching the entrance to the stage, waiting for his name to be called. He stood still, able to hear a pulsing in his head, unsure if it was the steadily forming headache, or simply his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He took in a few breaths, exhaling after each one, and as soon as he heard his name, he swallowed his sudden fear and stepped out onto the stage.

It was complete silence as he walked towards the grand piano, glancing towards the large auditorium, the sheer amount of people in there being unclear due to being concealed by the bright spotlights limiting his view. He felt blank; unsure if the seemingly clear mind was due to too many thoughts at once or none at all. He sat on the bench, placing his papers on the music desk of the piano, looking at them, seeing the name “Shubert’s Serenade” at the top as he held his slightly shaking hands over the keys, holding his breath for a moment before playing the first note.

The solemn song echoed throughout the auditorium, the audience silent as they listened intently, with Cesar’s mother filming with a faint smile. Cesar tried to focus on the music like she had suggested, though something was itching in the back of his mind, with the quieter moments of the song making it only try and drown out the serenade he was playing. He pushed through each bar of music, without flaw, slowly beginning to feel his unease wash away. He felt calm, with the music, while gloomy, making him feel more at ease. He approached a quieter section, his hands moving across the keys as he played. He felt a sense of peace, despite the crowd of people to his right.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Cesar missed a note.

He glanced to his right, seeing that no one’s expression had changed, nor did anything seem out of the ordinary. He began to wonder if it was just his mind playing tricks on him until he heard it again; faint ticking, coming from somewhere just out of sight. He shook his head slightly, flinching when one of his fingers slipped and hit the note next to the correct one. He could feel his chest become tight again, and he had to suppress the urge to bounce his leg, lest he accidentally hit or let go of the pedal of the piano at the wrong time. He swallowed hard, telling himself that it was only for a few minutes. He played the wrong note again, the action making him grimace slightly.

Someone laughed.

He glanced towards the crowd, seeing from his limited view that none of them were necessarily happy, but he heard murmuring that he couldn’t make out. He tried to continue playing, only missing more notes, each time making someone in the crowd let out a mean-spirited chuckle. Cesar could feel his breathing quickening, hearing faint, otherworldly laughing in the distance as he played, the timing of the song becoming off the longer he went. Ms. Torres looked at him with furrowed brows and a look of concern, wondering what was going on for Cesar to act so strangely, knowing there weren’t any audible distractions she could hear.

Cesar’s jaw was clenched, and each note was becoming harder to play as his hands stiffened and shook. He was slowly losing his grasp on the song, with the notes on the page even seeming to warp in his view despite nothing changing. He felt something behind him, refusing to look back until he was done with the song. He lost track of the bass line of the song for a moment, the action making the crowd in his head laugh again. He could hear the ticking of a clock, pounding in his ears like gunfire. His chest heaved as he looked down at the keys, trying to maintain his composure until—

Something dripped onto one of the white keys; a crimson liquid.

Another drop hit the ivory, Cesar only realizing after being able to taste it that it was blood, running down from his nose. He saw something in both sides of his peripheral vision, reaching towards his head. He Cesar stared at the keys, the song becoming dissonant as the bony hands reached towards his face.

A loud bang of discordant notes echoed throughout the hall as Cesar slammed his hands against the piano, standing up and pushing the bench back as he did so. The audience flinched, letting out surprised gasps before muttering to each other. Cesar swung to look behind him, seeing nothing before turning back towards the piano, grabbing his sheets before storming off of the stage, wiping his rapidly bleeding nose with his hand. Ms. Torres stood up, watching him disappear backstage before she shut off her camcorder, shoving it into her bag before brushing past the concerned people sitting next to her. She walked down the aisle, feeling tight in the chest as she walked around the building, calling Cesar’s name as she looked for the backstage entrance.

She burst through the backstage door, looking around and only seeing the surprised looks of the other performers before she walked past them with a quick “sorry”. She looked up, seeing the door leading outside before rushing towards it, swinging it open as she looked into the parking lot. She couldn’t see anyone there, though when she turned towards the street, she saw the rearview headlights of their car disappearing down the road.

“Cesar?!” She called, rushing down the concrete stairs before running into the parking lot, watching as the car drove away, exceeding the speed limit. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to conceal her worry and fear. “…O-Oh, no, Cesar…Que ha pasado ahora...”

Cesar pulled into the driveway as soon as he made it across town, shutting it off and hopping out, leaving his sheets in the car as he slammed the driver’s door shut. He muttered obscenities under his breath as he rushed into the house, swinging open the door and closing it when he was inside, all while holding his blood-stained hand under his nose. He walked quickly past the living room, through the kitchen, and into the back hallway, flicking on the light of the bathroom. He grabbed the toilet paper, tearing it off of the roll before pushing it under his nose to catch the blood. His breathing was uneven and his eyes watered, bordering on sobbing as his wide eyes stared at the sink.

“Fuck…y-you fucking idiot, this is the only car you drove there…” He groaned under his breath. He sighed, throwing the paper under his nose into the trash before turning on the faucet and washing his hands of his blood. Red stained water ran down the drain as Cesar felt the nose bleed subside, and as soon as his hands were at least mostly clean, he shut off the water, pressing his hands against the counter as he tried to regain his composure.

He looked up with a deep exhale, staring at himself through the mirror, seeing how red his eyes were due to the crying. His left eye appeared to be covered by his black hair in the reflection, despite it being above his eye in reality. Cesar stared at the reflection, brows furrowing when he realized that the lights in the hallway were off in the reflection, but not when he turned behind him to verify that they were on. “…Wh…” He turned back towards the mirror, eyes widening when he realized that his reflection was smiling at him.

Cesar couldn’t even let out a scream before his shoulders were grabbed by the reflection in the mirror, pulling him through it without struggle. Cesar yelled, feeling himself fall towards the floor, a water-like liquid splashing onto him when he hit the ground. He laid on the ground for a moment, feeling his clothes being stained with the thin layer of red liquid that rested above the tiles of the bathroom. The smell was nauseating, smelling of iron and rust, along with rotting wood and fresh paint. It was completely pitch black past the light of the mirror, the yellow lights from it bleeding into the mirrored room.

Cesar’s panic spiked again as he scrambled to his feet, looking down at his feet to see he was ankle deep in blood, or something that appeared to be blood. He looked back towards the mirror, seeing the bathroom he was used to, and he raised his hands, slamming against the mirror, loud bangs echoing from each impact as he began to hyperventilate. “NO! No, no NO, PLEASE, LET ME OUT OF HERE!” He cried, tears running down his face as he attempted to break the “glass.” “LET ME OUT…PLEASE…please…” He squeaked the last words out, looking through the mirror before a figure emerged from behind the counter, standing up, it’s limbs cracking as it moved. Cesar’s eyes widened in horror as he stared at the figure, his heart dropping at the realization that it was his own face looking back at him.

“A round of applause…” The alternate’s voice was breathy, sounding as if he was out of breath through his wide smile. Its bloodshot eyes stared at Cesar, thick, dark blood leaking from his nose, right eye, and from behind the hair covering his left eye. It was even wearing his suit, albeit torn and hanging together by threads. “It must feel nice…to come home after your performance. Make yourself comfortable, Cesar.”

Cesar grimaced as he curled his hands into fists, slamming them into the mirror as he screamed for someone, anyone to come to his rescue, watching as the alternate flicked the light off, walking down the hallway before closing the bathroom door. Cesar cried, sliding his blood-stained hands down the mirror as he lowered his head, sobbing to himself as he covered his face. This wasn’t happening; it couldn’t be happening. Maybe he would wake up, realizing it was nothing but a fucked up nightmare, and that everything would be okay. However, when he heard a loud, deep creaking from the dark, mirrored home around him, he realized it wasn’t as simple as that. The walls creaked, moving with every groan of the support beams. Tree-branch like marks covered the walls from what he could see, pulsing slightly.

Mark was right. The walls were breathing.

--

September 15th, 1992. 10:56 PM.

 Mark was awoken by his cellular phone ringing. He didn’t even realize he had fallen asleep on the couch that evening, finding himself sprawled across the sofa when he groggily opened his eyes. He sleepily turned towards the coffee table, hearing the ear-splittingly annoying ringtone from his blocky cell phone. He let out a tired groan as he reached towards it, nearly falling off of the couch before grabbing it and holding it up to his ear after accepting the call.

“…H’llo?” He pinched the bridge of his nose as he waited for the response.

“Hey, it’s Cesar; I hope it’s not too—”

“Cesar?” Mark sat up, brows furrowing and his already hauntingly vacant stare becoming more harrowing. “What—why are you calling me this late? You haven’t talked to me in days and you’re calling me now?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I just…” Cesar sounded…strangely out of breath. “It’s not me, it’s my mom. She didn’t show up at my recital on Monday—”

“What? I didn’t…even know you had a recital.” Mark murmured as he rubbed his eyes. “You…didn’t…invite me—N-Never mind, fuck, what happened to your mom?”

“I don’t know, but…I’m at the police station to report a missing person, so I just…wanted to ask you a favor?” Cesar continued.

Mark remained silent for a moment, glancing around his empty living room with furrowed brows. “After…ignoring me for so long, you want me to do a favor for you?”

“Look, I-I know it’s been…rough lately, but I really need just this one thing,” Cesar sighed. “Can you please at least…listen?”

“Listen to you?” Mark scoffed. “You barely listen to—”

“You know the cameras we installed after we were robbed?”

Mark let out a sigh as his statement was once again pushed aside. “…Yes, what about them?” He asked with barely disguised annoyance.

“I was wondering if you could…turn them on. I’m worried that while I’m gone something might…happen?”

“Fuck no.” Mark’s tone darkened. “I already told you, I’m not going back to that fucking house. Besides, I thought you didn’t want me there anymore.”

“I was just…angry, okay, but I’m better now. Besides, I checked everywhere, and there’s nothing here.” Cesar responded. “Please, can you do this? Just this once? I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

Mark absentmindedly scratched his neck, staring ahead blankly. “…I…God…” He thought intently for a moment before speaking again. “Alright. I’m just going to go in there, turn them on, and then leave though…that’s it.”

“And that’s all you need to do.” Cesar said. “Thank you for this, really. I appreciate it.”

“…No…n…no problem.”

 Mark felt empty as he drove to Cesar’s house. No thoughts ran through his head, as much as if felt like there should’ve been, and his stare remained blank, fixed on the road in front of him. His hands were clamped on the steering wheel, grasping the leather hard enough that it hurt. His breathing was deep, yet quiet, feeling oddly calm knowing the circumstance. It was as if he felt like he made the right decision, though deep inside he wished he didn’t take the offer, no matter if it helped he and Cesar’s friendship or not.

Mark glanced down at his hand, seeing traces of lazily washed off doodles drawn on his forearm before he grasped his sleeve, pulling it over the organic looking drawings. He shook his free, bandage-wrapped hand for a second, and then pushed his hair out of his face before grasping the wheel once again. In and out. Go in, turn on the cameras, and get out. That’s all he needed to do.

Mark parked on the other side of the road, opposite of the home before he stepped out of the vehicle. His hands shook by his sides as he hesitantly walked across the street, his sneakers hitting the pavement then eventually the driveway being the only sounds he could hear for miles. Not even the crickets seemed to be chirping that night, and the air was still and cool. Mark couldn’t help but feel a chill go up his spine as he approached the front door, reaching for the doorknob before pausing. He raised his other hand, clasping his necklace before taking in a breath, and opening the door.

He felt like he was going to throw up when he heard the grandfather clock ticking again. He let go of the door, keeping it open as he carefully looked around, looking up at the living room ceiling before spotting the first camera. He walked towards it, avoiding eye contact with the clock before reaching towards the camera and locating the switch. However, when he saw it, he paused; the camera was on, and the red light was switched on as well. He lowered his arms, turning towards the archway leading to the kitchen to look for the next camera.

The next camera wasn’t much better; red light was flashing, and the switch was on. He growled in annoyance, wondering in confused silence why Cesar asked him to turn the cameras on when they were already active. If anything, it was wasting both of their time, though nevertheless, Mark decided to try his luck with the other cameras. He looked around the room, spotting the basement door, before he turned towards the back hallway, freezing when he saw the camera above the bathroom door, finally seeing a camera without its red light on.

Mark couldn’t help but notice the pit forming in his stomach as he approached the dark hallway, eyes fixed on the camera above him. It felt oddly cold as he walked further into the hallway he swore was shorter, feeling as if the floorboards were less firm than they used to be. He looked up at the security camera above him raising his left arm to find the switch, only to see it wasn’t near the back with the wires like the others, making him furrow his brows as he grazed his hand across the metal searching for it. Finally, he found the switch, being on top of the camera, where he could barely reach. He was done; at least he hoped that the others were already on as well, so his job would be short.

He tried to stand on his flat feet, no longer standing on his toes until he felt a dull, hot pain in his left hand, as if it was burning. He winced, trying to remove his hand from the overheating camera, only to find that it didn’t budge. He stared at it, jerking his arm back, though the action didn’t free his hand either, even as the pain began to increase in intensity. He muttered curse words under his breath as he pulled his arm away, all before the camera broke off of its base, the wires that didn’t sever coming with it. Mark let out a yell as he looked at the camera in his hand, beginning to fabricate stories to explain the broken tech, until he turned it around. His heart stopped beating for a moment when he saw why he couldn’t move his hand.

The skin of his hand looked as if it was melting, fusing with the metal of the camera’s casing as if they were one entity since the beginning. He could see his veins becoming one with the wires, and his skin was becoming pale and thin near the fusion point. Mark tried moving his fingers, only able to see his bones and tendons move slightly under his skin. His breathing was becoming frantic as he pressed his right hand against it, attempting to free himself as he let out surprised and horrified yelps.

“Hello, Mark.”

Mark’s gaze snapped towards the noise, seeing a figure at the end of the hallway like a living shadow. “C…Cesar?” Mark’s voice shook as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, backing away into the corner and pressing his right hand against the wall for stability. It wasn’t Cesar; he could see it.

It was tall, and malnourished, with its limbs bent oddly, as if they barely held up his body. His smile was stretched wide across his face, his one right, bloodshot eye unblinking as it stared at Mark with glee. Mark looked towards his left eye socket, feeling as if he was about to vomit when he saw that the eye wasn’t even there. Protruding from the socket was many dull colored veins, almost like wires in a machine made of flesh. The veins and arteries fused with the skin on the left side of his face, as well as wrapping around his head and fusing to the back of his skull and neck. His skin almost looked dead, a paler version of the real Cesar’s skin tone. The look of it made Mark sick, the feeling of dread overpowering the burning he felt in his right hand.

“You seem tense.” “Cesar” said softly, his smile not once fading. “Why don’t you relax? You’ll be staying here for a while.”

Mark stared at what was left of the alternate’s face, his eye wide as familiarity rushed over him. The smile Mark saw in the mirror, the tall figure he saw in his dreams; even his voice felt like a jackhammer in his skull. He could hear the ticking and beating of the clock everywhere, steadily growing louder as he turned around, seeing that his right hand was immovable, and slowly sinking into the wall. “Y…You…WHAT DID YOU DO?!” Mark shouted, eyes full of fury as he tried to free his arm, noticing that his right leg was hard to move as well.

“You…make things so…difficult for us.” Cesar tilted his head. “It chose you! You should be honored to be such…an esteemed guest.”

“Wh…What chose me?!”

“It just wants the best for you, don’t you realize that?” Cesar asked calmly. “These walls, the rooms and halls; they’re safe. Secure. I don’t understand why someone would want to leave Home like you seem to.”

Mark remained silent, looking down to see his shin halfway in the wall. The burning sensation rushed over his body as it fused with the drywall and wallpaper, all while he felt a heartbeat that wasn’t his own. He screamed, both in pain and horror for anyone to hear, hoping someone could free him despite his own flesh and bones deconstructing.

“Welcome Home, Mark.” Cesar said. “All its guests welcome you.”

White hot tears ran down Mark’s face, feeling his head throb with every tick of the clock, trying to pull himself out of the wall; away from his fate of being consumed in the belly of the beast. He stared at “Cesar” with hatred, the smile on its face making him burn with anger. “YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” He screamed, his throat shot and his nose gushing with blood. “I HATE YOU! I FUCKING HATE YOU!”

Cesar didn’t even flinch at the yelling as Mark thrashed around, all attempts to free himself being fruitless. He stared at the replication of his friend as he shouted and sobbed, all until Home took away his mouth and eyes too.

Rest, my dear.            

Welcome Home.

[morganski-19]

I Don't Know Which Way's Home

Chapter 20: Finale

ao3 link, Part 1, Part 19

January 28, 1970

The muscles of Rebecca’s abdomen constrict. Pushing against her organs and the air out of her lungs. Pulling her into a crunch as he knuckles cling white to the sides of the hospital bed. While the doctor waits between her legs. Encouraging her to keep going.

It doesn’t escape her that there is no one directly at her bedside. No hand to grasp as the next contraction steals away her time to breath. No partner to rub her back to ease the pain.

Rebecca Lawson is doing this entirely alone. As she has for the past nine months, and will continue to do in the next eighteen years. But as her vision burns blinding white, and the pain finally subsides, she hears a sound that pulls the strength deep in her heart.

The screams or her baby girl.

She falls back on the hospital pillows, panting the air back into her lungs. Wiping the sweat off her brow. Feeling the tired seep into her veins. The slow fade back into peace. Except for baby girl.

Baby girl just won’t quit. Screaming her way through getting washed off and measured. Little arms reaching into the air. Squirming her way into being. Eyes glued shut while her mouth stays agape with cries.

A nurse comes over and helps Rebecca loosen the fabric around her chest. While she outstretches her arms and brings baby girl close to her heart. A mix of emotions building behind her eyes, pouring down her cheeks. She’s finally here.

“Hey, baby,” Rebecca whispers. “You don’t have to cry, I’m right here. I’ll always be right here.”

Her hand cradles the back of baby’s head. Caressing it gently with small, circular strokes. Calming her down from the initial cries. Watching as she stretches her hands in front of her face, eyes blinking their way open.

For the first time, Rebecca looks into her daughter’s eyes. Sees the curious brown stare back at her. Already knowing the fundamental truth of Rebecca’s whole being.

Motherhood came to her at a time she would not have initially chosen. Life throwing this wrench in the way of her future plans. Reminding her of its unpredictable nature. There were mistakes, and there were successes. And then there was this. Something that most view as a gift but can be so challenging to accept.

But Rebecca was never one to be held down by life’s challenges. So she took the wrench and ran with it. Used it to build something she always wanted. It wasn’t perfect, and neither is she.

Looking here at her little girl, she knows that only one thing matters. To love this girl for all that she is, no matter what. To be the best mother she can be and try to do what’s right. Acknowledge the mistakes that will be made and learn from them. Create a space of safety, joy, and love, wherever that may be. Try to be worthy of every moment that this little girl will give her.

Because from now on, it’s just her and her little girl. Rebecca and Julie Lawson, against the world.

. . .

Present Day, July 1987

Julie lays in her bed, having not much else she can do after being diagnosed with a minor concussion. The impact of the steering wheel just enough to injure her for a week or so. Until the headache stops and she’s able to go back to life.

Alone in her dark bedroom, the only light is the sun that finds its way around her curtain. Lighting the room just enough where she can see but it doesn’t add to her headache.

All there is for her to do is think. About everything and nothing at all. Replaying the songs she knows by heart in her mind. Thinking about her story that reaches a hurdle she just can’t jump over. Wondering if it’s time to start a new one.

Writing was Julie’s escape. A way for her to leave her current plane of existence and create a new one. Stay there for a while where the issues were controlled by her mind, and her mind alone. Where everything turned out the way she wanted it to.

She hasn’t been able to write since moving into the new house. The last entry in her journal being the one she read to her mom on Christmas. Every idea in her mind fading as soon as the pen hit paper. Seeming stupid once she tried to form it into words.

In the whole of everything, life hasn’t been that terrible. The school year is over, so she doesn’t have to worry about that anymore. Her friends seem to have this rotation of who’s house they hang out at, and when. Her house slowly being added to the rotation.

Steve won his case. Their custody court date is slowly incoming, and there’s no doubt in her mind that it will go well. She doesn’t hate herself for liking girls anymore. Her grief, while still prevalent, is slowly starting to fade into a distant memory.

Julie thought that if the pain of losing her mom stopped, so would the memories. The times eventful enough to imprint themselves in her mind fading with the grief. That wasn’t the case, for the most part. Those memories were still just that, memories. Coming and fading as every other one does. Bringing little sparks of joy with them. Joined by tug of pain.

There are still going to be times when Julie’s grief comes back and overwhelms her. Certain milestones where she looks out for her mom and realizes she isn’t there. Feels the crushing weight of loss and knowing that their time together had an early ending.

But. If Julie thinks hard enough, she can still feel her mom around her. Can still smell the scent of her cheap perfume in the jacket she wore every day. And not just because Julie had found the same bottle in the convenience store and brough it home. Sprays a bit every time she wants to remember.

She’d do it now if the smell wouldn’t add to her headache. Instead, she just turns her head to look at her desk. Sees the picture of her and her mom staring back at her. Smiles that familiar smile that’s formed every time she visits a memory. The one filled with happiness, tinged with sad at the corners.

Her life isn’t perfect by a long shot. It was never going to be. Perfection wasn’t something Julie or Rebecca ever strived for. Perfection in the way the rest of the world viewed it at least. Often unattainable.

Their perfect was a life worth living. Surrounded by people they loved. Julie and Rebecca against the world.

Even though it was only Julie who was taking the steps forward now. Only her to traverse this path once walked hand in hand. She isn’t alone. Her mom is still there, in the path beneath her feet. In the trees as they wave in the breeze. And the sun as it blinds her eyes.

Love never leaves. Not when it was meant to stay. When it was true, and beautiful. Rebecca loved Julie. In every way a daughter wishes her mother would. While life could put the blinders on and dampen that feeling. Deep down, Julie always knew it was fact. Knows that it’s fact, even now.

There’s a knock at her door. Each rapt echoing inside her ears. Making her wince. Steve opens it, holding the phone against his chest.

“It’s El, she was wondering if you wanted anyone to keep you company.”

Julie props herself up on some pillows. Gaging the severity of her headache. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Cool, I’ll let her know.”

A little while later, El gently knocks on Julie’s door before entering. Smiles as she sits at the foot of her bed. Resting her bag on the floor.

“How are you feeling?”

Julie shrugs. “My head hurts like a bitch and I’m bored out of my mind. But better.”

El smiles. The small braids of her hair dusting her shoulder as she moves her head. “That is good.”

“Yeah.” Julie can’t seem to break the gaze of El’s eyes. “I like your hair. Did Max do them?”

El nods, a hand coming up to play with the end of one of her braids. The faintest pink blush forming across her cheeks. Now that it’s been pointed out, Julie’s not sure how she didn’t notice it before.

“My hair is finally long enough to do things with again. I like it this way.”

Julie shifts over in her bed, making enough room for El to sit beside her. She pats the space next to her and waits for El to move. Heart speeding up as they press together. As El relaxes against her side.

“The group is talking about going to the movies this weekend,” El says. “You can come if you are feeling better.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll be up to it. The doctor said I should stay away from watching tv or movies for another week.”

El fidgets with her fingers. “That is ok. Maybe another time.”

Anticipation builds in Julie’s chest. A question forming itself on her tongue. Begging to be asked. The moment where she can see if things between them could change. Or if she’s about to break everything apart.

“We could see one, after I’m better, I mean.” She tries to say it normal, but the weight behind the question persists.

El looks at her confused. “I am sure we can. Just prepare yourself for a lot of fighting over which one to watch. They cannot decide on anything.”

Julie lets out a small laugh. “No. I mean, yeah, I’ll always go to a movie with you guys. But I meant we see a movie.” She motions between the two of them. “Just the two of us.”

The blush returns to El’s cheeks. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Julie dismisses. Feeling self-conscious. Turning away from El and picking at her thumbs. “If you wanted to, that’s all. We don’t have to. We can just sit through the very long argument over what movie and go with the rest of them. It doesn’t have to be,” Julie stutters to a stop when El reaches out at takes her hand.

“Just the two of us,” she finishes. Taking a chance and looking back at El.

There is this softness in El’s eyes that Julie’s never seen before. Something that makes Julie melt. Want to stay trapped in this gaze forever.

“I would like that,” El finally says. Mouth forming a small smile. “Going to a movie. Just the two of us.”

Julie’s smile matches El’s. “Ok. Good. Great. Um. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too.”

. . .

“How’s Julie doing,” Robin asks when she clocks into her shift.

“Bored out of her mind because she can’t do anything. But feeling better about everything.”

Robin nods, hopping up onto the counter. “That’s good.”

She moves on to talking about other things. Picking classes for her next semester at community college. Starting to look at schools that can take her beyond that. Finally narrowing down what she wants to do with her life. Pick a major that she’s not only good at, but also really enjoys.

Steve’s half listening. Stuck on the idea that she could actually be leaving town. That this time next year, he’ll be helping her pick out stuff for her dorm room. Start packing up her life into boxes and bringing them to a new place. Where she won’t be ten minutes across town anymore. But an hour, maybe a day.

There’s more to this than just wanting her to stay her forever. What happens when he gets a nightmare and needs to call her to make sure she’s alive. What happens when a call isn’t enough, and he needs to feel her presence. Just to get back to sleep again. For his mind to return to normal.

A year from now, things could be different. They could be better. But he doesn’t know that. And doesn’t think it will be. Two weeks ago, he couldn’t even distinguish between his boyfriend and a Russian soldier. What’s that say about his progress?

But instead of spiraling like before, knowing that he was stuck in the same place while everyone moved on, he was trying to live in the moment more. Trying to feel better about staying in one place for a while. To find rigidity in the town that seemed to constantly change. Watch it build back into the place it used to be.

“That community college you go to,” Steve interrupts Robin. “They offer classes for everything?”

Robin shrugs. “Yeah, pretty much. Not like everything everything, but most beginner level classes and gen eds and shit. Why?”

Steve’s been thinking about what to do with the money he won. If it would be better to pay off some of his loan, or put it towards something useful. He wasn’t quitting this job anytime soon. If he did, it would be to go work somewhere else. And now, he isn’t planning on moving for a few years.

What if he used it for himself. Actually did something for him first, before anyone else. Used it to find out what he was meant to do. What his real passion was.

“I was thinking of taking some classes in the fall,” he says like it doesn’t matter. “Put the feelers out, figure out what I’m good at.”

Robin freezes. “Are you serious?”

Steve shrugs. “Yeah.”

She hops down from the counter and pulls him into a hug. “Holy shit, we could be classmates again. But, like, actually like each other this time. I’m coming over and we’re looking through my course catalogue. This is going to be so great.”

The smile he makes it full of hope. “Yeah. So great.”

. . .

August 1987

“How old are you, Mr. Harrington?” the judge asks from where he is residing behind the stand.

“Twenty-one, your honor,” Steve responds.

The judge marks something on his note pad. “And you have a full-time job, a home under your own name?”

“That is correct. I am the manager at Family Video and recently bought a house.”

He knows that it’s the judge’s job to ask these questions. To prove that he’s fit to look after Julie. But each time the judge takes a second to look at him too long, or write something on his notepad, Steve gets a chill down his spine. Knowing that something could stop this from happening. Cause Julie to have to find somewhere else to live.

Steve didn’t want that. Julie didn’t want that. He can almost hear her picking at the skin around her thumbs behind him. Pulling at them until they start to bleed.

“And that is the same address you have listed here?”

Steve nods. “Yes.”

There are more questions about him. How the finances have been and his home life. Wondering if he’s going to be bringing people in and out of the house. Implying that Steve has some kind of a night life that he does not. He defends himself, lying that he’s taking a break from dating. That he would never bring anyone into the home that he doesn’t trust.

“As you know, Julie is a bright young girl. College bound. You will have the option to provide that for her, Mr. Harrington. There is not much time for you to do that.”

Steve can’t avoid the sting every time the judge calls him Mr. Harrington. It sounds so much like his father that it makes him sick. But he is still tied to that name, so it will follow him. He can’t focus on how that makes him feel right now.

“I am aware of that,” Steve starts. “I recently was just granted a sum of money, some of which I am going to use to further my own education, but the rest will be going into savings. Which I will start to grow in the case that Julie needs my help when she goes to college.”

“In the case of,” the Judge presses. “While not a requirement, it would be expected of you to help her pay for schooling.”

Steve glances to Sarah behind him. Silently asking her if it’s ok to disclose the information kept in Rebecca’s will. The trust made in Julie’s name, that she doesn’t know about. No one other than Sarah knows.

She nods, giving him permission.

He clears his throat. “That has, actually, already been taking care of by her mother. The savings that she made before her death have been transferred to a trust that Julie will have access to once she turns eighteen.”

“What,” Julie says behind him. Steve turns to see her shocked expression. “I didn’t know that.”

“You weren’t supposed to,” Sarah cuts in. “It was supposed to be kept a secret until you turned eighteen.”

The judge hits his gavel. “I understand the questions that arise with this information, but could we please get back to the matter at hand. Thank you.”

The courtroom goes quite once more.

“Miss Lawson, could you please come sit next to your brother.”

The door squeaks as it opens and swings back shut. The chair dragging along the floor as Julie takes the seat next to him.

“You are turning eighteen in about half a year, Miss Lawson. Why go through this process so close to when you become a legal adult.”

Julie clears her throat, looking down at her hands. “When my mom died, I thought my world had ended. It was always just me and her. I didn’t know who was going to look after me anymore. I didn’t know what family I had left. But then I met Steve.”

She looks up, giving Steve a small smile. “I didn’t know I had a brother until shortly before my mom died, and when I learned about it, I wanted nothing to do with my father’s family. Then life happened and I decided that Steve deserved to know. And it gave me a chance to have a family again. That’s why I wanted to do this.”

“What about you, Mr. Harrington?” The judge turns to Steve, a knowing look in his eye. Steve can tell that the decision has already been made. “Why are you here before me today?”

“The same reason,” he says simply. “My whole life I wanted a sibling, someone to share the empty house I was left in all the time. Julie gave me a chance to have that. She became part of the family I always wanted, and I am so thankful for that.”

The judge nods, asking them both to stand.

“I have reviewed the information given to me and have decided. There is no outstanding reason as to why I should object to this. Mr. Harrington has already proved that he is able to provide for Miss Lawson until she reaches eighteen. With the money that Miss Lawson’s mother left for her after her passing will help with expenses after that. I hereby grant Steve Harrington with permanent guardianship of Julie Lawson.”

The courtroom starts to dissipate after the judge’s ruling. Steve turning to Julie with a feeling of disbelief. He can’t believe that it was just that easy. There was this feeling in his gut that was telling him that something would go wrong. That he’s been winning too much lately. Something was about to come crashing down.

But instead, Julie smiles back. Pure joy filling her face as she starts to laugh. They did it.

. . .

Julie chucks her soda into the trash can as her and El leave the movie theater. The two talking and laughing as they walk back to the parking lot. Hands brushing as they walk, tempting Julie to reach out and take it. Wondering how big the risk really is.

The thing about dark theaters is that no one cares what’s going on when the lights go out. All that matters is eyes glued to the screen, not if two girls are holding hands. Even if Julie locked her fingers with El’s out in the open, it could just be seen as two friends walking down the street. As long as they kept it friendly. Any other affection and they could run the risk of being found out.

She’s still getting used to this whole idea. That one wrong move and people would figure out this intense secret of hers. Treat it like it’s the worst thing in the world, even though it’s definitely not. It felt that way at first, but it’s not.

Now, the intense rush of emotions makes Julie’s heart stutter as El’s nose scrunches just slightly as she laughs. As El grabs Julie’s hand and swings their arms as they walk to her dad’s car. It makes her question how anyone could think this feeling was wrong. Or that this relationship is any less than one between straight people.

If this is even a relationship.

Since a few weeks ago when Julie first asked El on a date, things have been different. Seats scooched slightly closer to one another, hands finding each other under blankets during movie nights. Private jokes whispered into each other’s ears and sharing secret smiles. The air between them shifted to something beyond friends. But it was still somewhat the same.

Julie wonders where this is going to go. If the night will end with her and El deciding that this was a terrible idea. Going back to being just friends and nothing more. Or if this shift in energy will only bloom into something more. Something so much deeper than Julie’s ever experienced.

“How was the movie,” El’s dad asks as he drives them back to her house. Breaking the almost awkward silence between the front and back seats.

“It was good,” El smiles. “Very funny.”

She looks at Julie, making a motion to imitate one of the parts of the film. Connecting it to one of her jokes back in the theater. Sending Julie into laughter.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Very funny.”

Hopper whispers something under his breath. But there’s a small smile hiding itself on his face. Julie doesn’t know how much he knows. Something just tells her that he approves of this on some plane. Whether as friends or something more.

Julie says hello to Mrs. Byers on the way in, following El to her room. They sit on El’s bed, falling into conversation. Julie constantly overthinking the mood of the room. Overthinking every touch, every moment, every word. Wondering if this is the time to do something more. Or to pull away. Stopping this before it all crashes and burns. Preventing herself from taking this risk.

“As soon as it comes out on VHS, we have to show it to the rest of the group,” El comments. “They would find it so funny.”

Julie shrugs, “I guess so.”

“It is kind of like our group. Kids and their babysitter going on a big adventure. Getting into trouble. That is basically our life.”

The irony of picking this movie makes Julie laugh. Finally knowing some context of how they all met before Julie came into the mix.

“You know, Steve told me of some that happened,” Julie says before thinking. Stupidly slipping the moment into a much darker topic. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up.”

El’s demeanor changes. She curls into herself. Playing with the hem of her shorts. “Did Max tell you what I asked her to? About my life before my dad adopted me.”

Julie nods. “Yeah.”

“How much of it?”

“Just that you were in a really bad place before and had to escape. That it was the same lab that caused all of those other people to die in ’83 and ’84.”

El nods. So sad that it makes Julie want to wrap her in a hug and never let her go. Protect her from anything that makes her look like this. She slowly removes the bracelet from around her wrist, revealing a small tattoo. The number eleven.

“This is the real reason I am called El. I was number Eleven, it was my name when I escaped.”

Julie carefully reaches out and holds El’s wrist. Taking a closer look at the tattoo. Feeling the weight of knowing this in her hands.

“There were other children there too. We were all numbers. Until I was the only one left.”

“You don’t have to tell me this,” Julie assures when she sees a tear trail down El’s cheek. Fighting the urge to wipe it away. “I’m sorry I brought this up in the first place. I wanted tonight to be a good night.”

El’s smile returns to her face. Still painted with a tired sorrow. But the joy sparks at its edges. “It is ok. I wanted you to know. I feel safe when I’m with you. And tonight,” she looks down at her wrist, Julie’s hand still holding it gently. “It was a good night. A very good night.”

The slight blush returns to her cheeks. Almost embarrassed. A piece of her hair falling in front of her eyes. Julie wanting to reach out and tuck it away.

“Good,” Julie says awkwardly. “It was a good night for me too.”

“I have never been on a date with a girl before. Only with Mike and I was not allowed to go on any dates like the one we had today. It was nice, very nice.” El tucks the strand of hair behind her ear.

A date. Julie can’t help the flush that rises to her cheeks. She knew what this was, but still. Hearing El be the one to say it solidified what it was. Reassure that this wasn’t all one sided.

She huffs a laugh, trying to sound normal. “Well, that’s good.”

It sounds so repetitive when she says it. Like no other words can form in her mouth. Stuck on a loop. But El moves closer and all her brain can tell her is good. Good as the nerves make their way to her fingers, shaking as they lock with El’s. Good as the mood shifts away from the sad and into anticipation. Like something is going to happen but Julie can’t tell what it is.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” El springs up from the bed. Breaking the tension. She walks over to the dresser and rummages through the small basket sitting on top of it. Returning with something closed in her fist. “I want you to close your eyes and hold out your hand.”

Julie does so, tentatively. “Ok.”

She feels El slide something onto her wrist. Feather light touches as she positions it and pulls it taught. The touch leaves and the bed dips beside her again.

“Ok, you can open your eyes now.”

Julie looks to her wrist, seeing a braided bracelet tied around it. “It’s pretty, thank you.”

“You are welcome. I have been meaning to make you one for a while now because everyone else has one. It was meant to be a friendship bracelet, and it still can be. But we are not exactly just friends anymore.”

“Not if you don’t want us to be.” Julie turns to look at El, their faces closer than she was expecting them to be.

That tension picks up again. Along with the nervousness melded with excitement in her chest.

“I want us to,” El rushes out. “If you want us to.”

“Can I kiss you?” Julie whispers. The question already answered in her mind weeks ago, but never said allowed. Sometimes actions were better than words.

El nods. Leaning forward as Julie’s lips press into hers.

. . .

Steve sits on his couch watching the kids bicker over what movie to watch. Eddie pressed between him and the edge of the couch. The two already preparing to have to make space for some of the kids when they finally figure out a movie. Robin and Nancy doing the same, crammed together into one armchair.

It still surprises him how they all continue to cram into his house. Almost refusing to use any other space that might be more accommodating. Where they might actually have a seat that’s not some old pillows on the floor. Where, even then, they won’t have to sit closer than they want to in order to fit.

But time and time again, they continue to come over to Steve’s. Eat his food and use his tv. Bother him in ways that don’t really bother him, but they’ll never know that. Continue to show him that it was never the things that he owned that made his home special. It was him.

Time, after time, after time, they continue to flock to his house because he was the one who made it. It was him that made sure they were all fed and taken care of. Him that helped them through troubles and picked them up from school. Him who made sure that no matter what, this was a space free of judgement that they could just be themselves.

It’s shown with the way that Eddie’s able to sink into the arm Steve has thrown across the back of the couch. Seen in the way that Robin and Nancy whisper to each other while playing with each other’s fingers. Seen in the way that El holds Julie’s arm, pressing her cheek into her shoulder. Seen in the way that Mike continues to stare at Will and starts to inch closer, actually trying to do something about it all.

“Move in with me,” Steve whispers to Eddie sometime during the movie. Having wanted to ask that question for months now.

Eddie turns to look at him, confusion and shock mixing his emotions. “Yeah?”

Steve nods, smiling a stupid smile he doesn’t care about hiding anymore. “Court cases are done, school’s starting up again. It’s the perfect time. If you wanted to.”

“Of course I want to,” Eddie says with all the whispered dramatics in the world. The love he has in eyes ever present.

Taking a quick glance to make sure no one is looking, Steve closes the gap between them for what was supposed to be a quick kiss. That is until the kids starting gagging and booing. Making them prolong it to further their discomfort.

“You ask him?” Julie asks while helping him pick up discarded paper plates and cups. A knowing smile already on her face.

“Yeah, I asked him.”

“Took you long enough.” She punches him gently in the arm before heading off to bed.

What started as a stranger on his doorstep adding more uncertainty to his life, turned out to be the best thing that’s happened to him in a while. A sister, family, coming into his life and showing him that he had a chance to take it for himself. Change the way he was living to finally be happy with it. Completely and utterly happy with it.

This house was never meant to be Steve’s endgame. This town was never meant to be it either. But these people, this family, this home, he will travel with it until the ends of the Earth. Until the ground splits in two again and swallows them all whole. Until shit hits the fan and he has to pull his old nail bat out of retirement.

Steve doesn’t know what his future holds. What career he’s going to find himself in a year, in five. Where life will carry him after Hawkins. But if he’s sure of one thing and one thing only, he’s sure to never, ever let it go.

. . .

January 28, 1988

Julie heads into the house after school, ready to get changed out of her work clothes before heading out again. The group meeting at the local diner to celebrate her birthday. She slings her apron into the hamper when she notices something on her desk.

Sorry I couldn’t be here for your birthday, we’ll do something tomorrow. This came for you in the mail. Call me if you need anything. Have fun!

Steve

She rips off the post it and tosses it in the trash, looking at the envelope. She tears it open taking out the papers inside. On top is a letter from Sarah, the words causing her to sit down as she frantically reads the words.

It’s all the paperwork that she’ll need to fill out to transfer the money from her trust to her. All of the savings her mom set up for her for college. So she can finally make a decision about the growing stack of acceptance letters on her desk.

Looking at this amount, that decision won’t be hard. She can pretty much go to any of the schools she applied to with this money.

All this money, every payment, almost every cent must have gone into this account. This is money that could have changed their lives. Could have gotten them out of the trailer and into a house. Maybe stopped her mom from having to work two jobs just to keep afloat.

There was almost one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in this account. Doing the math, around seven hundred and fifty dollars a month for the seventeen years her mom was paid. All of it saved for her future.

Underneath all the papers that she can’t even think about looking through right now, there’s one that doesn’t look like the rest. One that’s on lined sheets of paper ripped out of a notebook. Recognition hitting Julie almost instantly.

It’s a letter from her mom.

She slams the letter onto the desk, hiding it among the rest of the papers. Unsure if she wants to read it now. Knowing that she has to leave soon to get to dinner. Not knowing how it’s going to affect her.

Deciding to save it for after dinner, Julie forces herself out of the chair and heads to her closet. Pulls out some clothes and gets changed, grabbing her keys on her way out the door. Trying to push the letter to the back of her mind. It works for a while, but every time the conversation stutters, her thoughts are drawn back to the paper hiding on her desk.

She really wants to know what it says.

El grabs Julie’s hand under the table. Giving it a gentle squeeze to silently ask if she’s ok. Julie nods, promising to tell her about it later.

The dinner ends and Julie drives El back to the house. Grabs her hand and leads her to the bedroom. Pulls the letter from underneath the stack and sits with it on her bed. Staring at the first line, unable to read more.

“It’s a letter from my mom,” Julie finally says.

El wraps an arm around Julie’s. “What does it say?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t read it yet.”

“Do you want to?” El presses her cheek into Julie’s shoulder, grounding her.

Julie bites at her lip. “I do. I think a part of me is scared too though.”

“I’m here for you. Whenever you are ready.”

Julie takes a deep breath. Holding the letter closer, finally reading what her mom has to say. “Here goes nothing.”

My dear Julie,

I know what you’re probably thinking. I’m insane for putting all of this money away for you, not using even a little bit of it for myself. Or for you now. And I did every now and then. You kept growing so fast and I couldn’t keep up. Sometimes I needed to use a little just to make sure you had clothes that fit. Or for holidays.

But the point of it all was that this money was for you. I didn’t need anyone else to help raising you. I didn’t want to take the money in the first place. Until I realized that this money could help you get the life you always dreamed of. That I always dreamed for you.

You are so smart, Jules. And so creative. I loved every story you ever wrote to me. Cherished each one. Not just because I’m your mom, but also because they were just that good. You have a gift to write like that. Never lose it.

After today, this money is yours. You can do whatever you want with it. Go to school, travel the world, move out of this town, I don’t care. Just make sure to come visit me every so often. There will always be a place for you in my heart and my home.

Whatever you do, just promise me that you’ll enjoy it. Promise me that you’ll never lose that spark in your eyes that you get when a new idea comes in your head. Promise me that you never lose your laughter, or your sense of humor. Promise me that you’ll take life by the reigns and lead it straight into your sunset.

Your future is bright, Julie. Let this be my greatest gift to you, the first steppingstone in your independent life.

You’re going to do great things one day. I know because you are already doing them now.

I love you to the ends of the Earth. To the moon and all the stars. It was an honor to see you grow into the woman you are today.

Love,

Mom

P.S. I hope my tears didn’t stain this paper too much. You know me, forever a sap.

A wet laugh escapes Julie’s mouth. Tears adding to the small rings at the bottom of the page. Fingers grazing over the last line. Over and over. She eventually sets the paper down next to her. Careful not to crumble it as she collapses into El. As the sob she’s been holding in all day breaks free.

The next morning, Julie wakes up with her arms still tight around El. With the tear stains still imprinted onto her cheek. Mouth dry from all the crying.

She sits up, finds the letter placed gently on the nightstand. Clicks on her small lamp and rereads it. Over and over again.

These are the last words Julie will ever hear, or read, from her mom. Written however long ago, Julie doesn’t even know. But it was without the knowledge of what would come. How their ending would be.

Sometimes endings aren’t as conclusive as once thought to be. Sometimes, an epilogue is added that is heart wrenching and makes the reader question when the end really is. Pulls the heart string one last time as the book finally comes to a close.

Then, endings form new beginnings. Each chapter ends and starts another. New conflicts arise and fall into resolution. The plot keeps moving as the pages turn. As time moves on.

As far as final chapters go, Julie thinks this is a nice one. Filled with just enough loose ends to keep the reader interested in a sequel, but tying up the ones that really matter. A sense of closure forming in her chest. A readiness to step right into this new chapter. The letter fitting as perfect set up.

El stirs, scrunching her eyes closed with the light. Julie laughs a little, reaching across to turn the light off.

“Sorry.”

“It is fine,” she blinks. Pulling herself to sit next to Julie. “Reading it again?”

Julie nods. “It was a lot at first, but it’s really comforting to have this. To know that she loved me enough to plan this all out for me.”

“She loved you so much, I believe that.”

“I think she would have liked you,” Julie smiles. “I think she would have liked us.”

El smiles back, the sleep still pulling at the muscles in her face. “I wish I could meet her.”

Julie presses their heads together. “Yeah, I do too.”

A fist slams against the door. Startling them apart. “Breakfast is ready,” Eddie yells through the door.

Julie rolls her eyes. Him having done this every single time El has stayed over. “You can ease the wakeup call, you know. It’s getting old.”

“No, I think I’m going to keep doing this until you both graduate college.”

The both of them roll their eyes as they make their way out to the kitchen. Steve and Eddie bickering not so quietly while plating the eggs. Shutting up just for a second when they enter the room. Until it picks up again while they eat.

Julie can’t help but laugh, sharing small glances with El across the table. There’s this warmth in this house that she thought she’d never feel again. A space that is her own. A home to come back to. Where love radiates through the walls.

While the circumstances were those that she would not have picked willingly, this was still something she didn’t want to lose. This family she’s apart of, this life she has, it’s more than she could have asked for after the accident. It’s more than she ever expected to happen after tragedy.

But it did. And this life that she’s got left, this family, this home, she’s doesn’t want it to change. She doesn’t want it to leave. Hoping that it follows her to the ends of the Earth. Love her to the moon and all the stars. Because she knows that wherever her mom is looking down at her, it’s what she would want too.

Deep in her heart, she knows.

Tag list(let me know if you want to be added or removed): @homoerotictangerine, @mugloversonly, @thesuninyaface, @imyelenasexual, @anaibis,

@ilovecupcakesandtea, @brainsteddielyrotted, @jackiemonroe5512, @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple, @goodolefashionedloverboi,

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @lolawonsstuff, @writingandmushroomdragons, @stevesbipanic, @sierra-violet,

@steddie-as-they-go, @dauntlessdiva, @mousedetective, @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner, @zombiethingy,

@connected-dots-st-reblogger, @that-agender-from-pluto, @allyricas, @cheddartreets, @devondespresso,

@crypticcorvidinacottage, @queenie-ofthe-void @chronicpainstevetruther, @melonmochi

[pikkish]

idk if this is a good prompt but put doomguy in myhouse.wad I think he would find it enriching

Right, so I've been mulling on this one for a little bit now, n I'm not opposed to writing something for you, I'm just not... entirely sure what to write? Because the thing is, myhouse.wad doesn't actually really have anything to do with Doom as a story. Sure, Doom is important in that it's the vessel through which the story is told and one of the connections between the narrator and his dead companion. But as far as Doom itself goes, and the story about a man who was too angry/stupid to die, fighting demons and saving earth, none of that is at all relevant to myhouse.wad and its story. For all intents and purposes, Doomguy isn't actually a character in myhouse.wad. So I'm not really sure how exactly to fit him in there.

[valeffelees]

only bad thing about being in a fandom where one of the characters canonically has wings is the painful lack of classic wingfic. where is my everything's the same but people have bird wings watford au where one day baz notices simon hasn't been grooming his wings bc of an injury to his ribs so he sits on his bed and makes a whole fuss about how "i'm not doing this to be nice, snow, your wings are just a travesty to look at" and then proceeds to carefully and lovingly tidy his feathers in drawn out silence while they both pretend grooming someone else's wings isn't one of the most intimate things you can do for another person. will this heartbreak never end