#i had like eight things about mike being very gentle at home and as he gets older getting more and more gentle

[monkee-mobile]

i cannot put into words well all my thoughts about how soft the monkees are I have SO MANY THOUGHTS it’s just so hard to type them out. my drafts are crazy right now.

it all just comes out like “when they’re all at home and it’s bedtime everybody just cuddling and chilling out to the guitar and singing with each other and talking oh my god you know they just like you know when like the blankets and it’s warm and mike is so gentle to davy and they sing and then read stories and peter likes the lights low” like that’s not what i meant to say at all i have whole narratives going i’m just kind of sick and i’m thinking about the monkees being so soft and sweet and davy curled up in a blanket in mikes lap while he plays the guitar complaining about bedtime and petting at mikes beard and mike picking at some chords as he tries to reason with the (NOT sleepy!!) little one—this is turning into davybaby !!

[letterboxd]

Heart Beat.

Minari’s film composer Emile Mosseri (also responsible for the Kajillionaire and The Last Black Man in San Francisco scores) tells Ella Kemp about his A24 favorites, Nicholas Britell’s friendship and the boldest Paul McCartney needle drop in movie history.

What do you think a broken heart sounds like? How about a warm, beating one? It’s something that Emile Mosseri has been thinking about for a while now. The past two years have seen him complete a hat-trick of beguiling, transporting scores for Plan B movies: Joe Talbot and Jimmie Fails’ The Last Black Man in San Francisco, Miranda July’s Kajillionaire and now, the film voted the best of 2020 by our community, Lee Isaac Chung’s Minari.

What binds these scores together is a delicacy that knows when to break free and turn into something altogether spectacular. But on Minari in particular, Mosseri is in full bloom, working for the first time in a way he’d always dreamed about. While The Last Black Man in San Francisco saw him compose to a loose edit, and on Kajillionaire he worked to a locked cut, Chung gave him the freedom to write music directly to Minari’s script. “It was a dream to work this way on Minari,” Mosseri says. “It was so beautifully written and so visceral.”

‘Minari’ composer Emile Mosseri.

Minari is an intimate portrait of a Korean family making their way in rural America, and the composer was interested in “trying to figure out musically how you can feel connected to your deepest childhood memories”. These memories belong, in the film, to David—a tiny king played by eight-year-old Alan Kim—as he comes to terms with his new life on a small farm in Arkansas, as his family strives for their own version of the American Dream.

The Yi family is made up of David and his sister Anne (Noel Kate Cho), their parents Monica (Han Ye-ri) and Jacob (Steven Yeun) and their grandmother, Soon-ja (Youn Yuh-jung). It’s a personal story for Chung, one that Mosseri felt honored to be a part of. “It’s a very intimate story with these five characters, which takes place mostly in this small mobile home—but emotionally, it’s very epic.”

There was something about Chung that had caught Mosseri’s attention early on. “I had met him at the LA premiere of Last Black Man,” Mosseri says, “and I sent him the Kajillionaire score.” Mosseri was already familiar with the filmmaker’s work: “His first film, Munyurangabo, is incredible.” He calls Chung “very open, but also sly” in terms of hitting the right notes and “gently steering the ship”. The partnership between composer and director was about working on “a more emotional level,” Mosseri says. “There was never any talk about what we wanted stylistically.”

The ‘Minari’ ensemble cast.

The result is a film graced with music at once lush and raw, grandiose and vulnerable. Mosseri is keenly aware of these nuances, and always made sure to walk the tonal tightrope in the writing process. “There aren’t sad cues and hopeful cues,” he explains. “Every cue has both feelings. Each musical moment dips in and out of the hopefulness and joy of a family, and then the pain and frustration and dissonance that they hold.”

The way Mosseri’s music swells and flows often feels intangible, magical, even—which comes more from knowing what to avoid, rather than acting with too much forced intention. On his first film, Mosseri brought brass and strings to the streets of San Francisco, and with Miranda July, he worked old Hollywood glamor into the concrete blocks of Los Angeles. Here, we twirl through the tall grass as gentle acoustic guitars and elegant string sections sigh and sway, while the Yi family work through their growing pains.

“We didn’t want to hear Korean music when you see Korean characters, and we didn’t want twangy music when you see an American farm,” Mosseri explains. “We wanted to come at it from the side somehow, in some way that’s unexpected.” ‘Rain’, his collaboration with Minari star Han Ye-ri, which features on the official soundtrack, encapsulates this juxtaposition. It’s an epic lullaby of sorts; Han sings in Korean to a gentle guitar; a pleasing swell of synths climbs alongside her voice. The effect on the listener is as if liquid love is trickling from every vein. “I wanted this score to feel like it had a warm, beating heart.”

Two of your three feature films to date have been released by A24, and so we must ask: what are your favorite A24 film scores? Emile Mosseri: Three come to mind. First of all, Anna Meredith’s score for Eighth Grade. It’s so adventurous and unexpected and fresh and just brilliant. It’s so pure and out-there. It also does this impossible thing of being hip and exciting and deep, but also hilarious. The pool-party scene fucking kills me.

Then there’s Under the Skin by Mica Levi. I remember seeing that at the Nighthawk theater in Brooklyn and feeling like it was the best score I’d heard in as long as I could remember.

And then of course, Moonlight. That film got under my skin in a way I didn’t see coming. I saw it by myself in a theater, after hearing all the hype for months and months. When a movie has that much hype you can get a bit cynical and it can distract you, so I went in a bit guarded, but I left the film destroyed. For weeks and weeks it resonated with me in a way that was so profound, and a large part of that is due to Nick [Britell]’s music. And the film is just perfection.

Scarlett Johansson in ‘Under the Skin’ (2013), scored by Mica Levi.

You’ve been described as Nicholas Britell’s protégé more than once… It’s funny, I think that came from me being a fan of his and saying nice things about his music. I met him at Sundance two years ago when Last Black Man was premiering. I went with my wife and my brother and I was so excited, I’d been waiting for this moment for so long. We walked in and Nick and Barry [Jenkins] were walking in behind [us]. And there was also Boots Riley, Kamasi Washington… all these people I looked up to. I hadn’t considered that I would see this film in the room with them, and it was the first time I was hearing the final mix and just agonizing.

Nick was incredibly generous and said great things about the score and was super encouraging, and he became a friend and mentor. But I’ve never studied with him or worked with him. Although, if you’re a fan of somebody’s work, you’re a student of any of these composers that you admire. Anything you watch and listen to, you absorb.

What was the first film that made you want to be a composer? It was Edward Scissorhands. Danny Elfman’s score was the first one that made me realize that this was a job. I’m always attracted to big, romantic melodies, and over-the-top sweeping stuff—but done tastefully. In that score, he sets the high-water mark for me. It’s so unapologetically romantic.

And then there are other obvious ones like The Godfather. It’s maybe a dorky choice because it’s the most famous movie ever, but it really is the best. And that got me into Nino Rota, and from there I found [Federico] Fellini and all these movies through Nino, the composer. And then I got really into the score for La Dolce Vita and more movies that he’d written for, which are so beautiful.

The ‘Edward Scissorhands’ (1990) score was an early inspiration for Mosseri.

Which films, new to you, blew you away in 2020? Take Shelter by Jeff Nichols blew me away. It unfolded in a way that was intoxicating and really exciting, and it just really stuck with me.

What’s been your favorite needle drop on screen this year? Aside from Devonté Hynes’ score being stunning, there’s an amazing piece of music placed in an episode of Luca Guadagnino’s We Are Who We Are. They use a Paul McCartney song called ‘Let Em In’, and they dropped it in this incredibly tasteful but unexpected way, in a really dark, emotionally loaded scene. It worked in such a beautiful and graceful way. It’s because it’s the most cheery McCartney, it’s full-blown upbeat and poppy McCartney. And this is the darkest-of-the-dark human pain, and it lands in this way that is such a bold choice, such a powerful move.

What should people listen to after watching Minari? One record I’ve been listening to a lot recently is Jeff Tweedy’s Love is the King. It could be a good companion to Minari. I’m a huge fan of his and it’s a gorgeous record. It’s very stripped-down and emotionally raw, and it’s both hopeful and heartbreaking.

Which filmmakers would you love to work with next? I’m always afraid to answer this question because there are so many filmmakers I admire. There are filmmakers I grew up with loving their films—working with Miranda was that for me. Spike Jonze or Yorgos Lanthimos are directors in her world that I also love and would love to work with. But there’s so many others. Derek Cianfrance is amazing and he works with different composers. I love his choice of collaborators musically. I love that he used the late great Harold Budd to do his shows [including I Know This Much is True], and then Mike Patton, and Grizzly Bear… the music is always incredible in his projects, but he doesn’t have a go-to person. His films are so heartbreaking and powerful and really, really raw. He’s fearless.

I feel very lucky that I’ve worked on these three films which are all very much like somebody’s ripping their heart out and putting it on the screen. I feel like Derek Cianfrance does that in his films too, in this unapologetic, super-vulnerable way of just ripping his soul out and putting it out for everyone to see. It’s incredibly appealing to find those projects, because they’re really rare.

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Follow Ella on Letterboxd

‘Minari’ is available everywhere in the US that movies can be rented, and screening in select theaters in the US and other regions. Listen to the official soundtrack and more of Mosseri’s film compositions in the official Spotify playlist via Milan Records. ‘Kajillionaire’ is available on VOD now.

[katsuukiwii]

Proud- Levi X Reader Chapter Ten

Chapter 10: “New Behavior” Chapter Warnings: Language, suggestive material, teen (OF AGE) working in a sex shop, sex toys mentioned, mention of sex

I provide definitions for sex toys at the end so you don’t have to look them up!

Spoiler (check after reading chapter): Based off of this post that I REALLY REALLY LIKED

Also I have three reqs that I will be working of after this! I go latest req to most recent req

He walks down the hall, knocking on Liam’s door, checking if he’s awake. After getting no response, he opens the door, seeing the brunette lying in bed, asleep. Levi walks over, placing a hand on the boy's small shoulder and shaking him softly, he speaks in a low, gentle voice, “Liam? It’s time to wake up buddy, you have school today.” The boy grumbles, sitting up and looking at Levi angrily. Any other parent would be upset, but waking up extremely pissed off was a normal Ackerman thing, and spending the rest of the day LOOKING pissed off, was also an Ackerman thing. 

He gives the boy a kiss on the cheek before telling him to come downstairs for breakfast. Levi walks down, setting some pancakes on the table with two pieces of bacon and some scrambled eggs. Liam woke up every morning with a proper, healthy meal! Levi, woke up with toasted pop tarts and tea. He turns to look at the doorway as Liam arrives. He sets a plate on the table and the boy hops up, taking a bite of the pancakes happily! “Thank you Papa,” Levi raises a brow as he notices the boy mutter the same words under his breath, “You’re welcome bud.” He smirks, knowing that he’s never seen Liam do that before, but he brushes it off, ‘It’s probably just one of those weird things that kids do.’

So, he goes back upstairs, gets a shower, gets dressed, and grabs his phone, messaging Mike.

Levi (6:46am)

“Hey, wanna go to the gym later?”

Mike (6:48am)

“Sure! But I thought we just went 

the other day?”

Levi (6:48am) 

“Yeah, but it’s boring here. I was 

thinking maybe I’d let (Y/N) 

meet Liam?”

Mike (6:49am)

“Awww, you have a crush”

“She’s really nice and keeps her 

house clean so i thought u 

would like that lmao”

Levi (6:49am)

“You went to her house?”

Mike (6:49am)

“Shit, that sounds bad-”

“Me and violet hit it off, so i 

went to hang out with her”

And they were roommates

Levi (6:50am) 

“Jesus fucking christ i hate you.”

Mike (6:50am)

“See you at the gym”

Levi (6:50am)

“See you”

He puts his phone in his pocket, grabbing his gym bag and walking back downstairs, seeing Liam’s now empty plate at the table. Putting the plate in the sink, he steps into the living room, chuckling at the small boy watching cartoons and giggling. He scoops Liam up in his arms, causing him to squeal, “Papa! Put me down!” Despite his words, he giggles as Levi spins him around once, kissing both of his cheeks, his forehead, and his nose before sitting him back down, “Okay, okay. There you go.”

The boy gives him a hug before they get ready to leave. He hands Liam his coat, letting him put that on while Levi tosses on his own, lifting the warm hood over his head before wrapping Liam’s scarf around him carefully. The snow had started to really come down, so he had to make sure his son was warm. “Okay, go grab your back pack,” Liam goes upstairs, coming back down a few minutes later with his bag. 

He sets the boy in the car that was already warm (he lets it run for a few minutes) and tosses his gym bag in the back next to Liam. After that, he grabs his own backpack and sets it on the floor of the car. He hops in, putting the car into reverse and pulling out of the driveway before finally rolling down the road. 

...

Levi had just dropped Liam off at Erwin’s and was now about to start work, he looks at the time, 5pm, knowing that it’s finally time to start his shift. He walks out to the front counter, checking around the shop and making sure it all looked clean, after about 15 minutes of that somebody walks in. 

“Welcome to ‘Does Your Mother Know?’, what are you looking fo-”

Levi stops mid sentence, the woman stares at him, before looking over at the sex toys on display, then to the racks of porn flicks and lingerie, then back to him, “Uhh...Hi, (Y/N).”

“I didn’t know you worked here! Do you get discounts?” Levi’s eyes widen, confused as to why she wasn’t mad, “Yeah, I do...Why do you wanna know anyway?” Levi smirks as (Y/N) shakes her head, “I just wanted to. Might come in handy one day. ANYWAY-I was gonna let whoever was working here know that I’m about to install the Christmas decorations!”

Levi raises his brow in acknowledgement, “You’re doing the installation?” She nods, “Mhm! I’m a landscaper, but you can’t really do that in the colder months. So near Christmas time I go around and hang up a bunch of decorations!” He smiles at her enthusiasm, taking her hand and spinning her in a circle as she giggles. 

“Okay then. If you need any help let me know.” She turns, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “This is my job, I bet I could do better than you.” He hums in agreement, hugging her before letting her step outside, the sky already getting dark, illuminated by the street lights and signs that are lit from the shop.

...

It doesn’t take long until Levi steps outside, the snow falling heavily as he noticed (Y/N) on a ladder, hanging decorations, “(Y/N)!” After hearing him shout up at her, she looks down, them shouting back and forth at each other, “What?”

“Do you need more light? If you want, you can take a break! After my shift ends I’ll help you out!” She smiles, covering the lights from the snow and stepping down carefully, quickly moving into Levi’s arms where he takes her into the shop to warm up. “Thank you...When does your shift end?”

“About ten. It’s eight now, but I assume it takes a while.”

She nods her head, “It does. Thank you baby.” He suddenly noticed the nickname, his face now turning a light shade of pink, “Uh, yeah...No problem. Do you wanna go get a drink? There’s a Olive Garden down the street, you can go get something to drink, maybe some breadsticks, and then come back?” (Y/N) nods, giving him yet another hug before exiting happily, past another person who was entering, “Oh, hi Mike!”

“Well, well, well. What are you up to here?” Mike smirks as Levi rolls his eyes, “She’s the one installing the Christmas lights, dude. Why are YOU here?”

Mike giggles as (Y/N) leaves, getting into her car and driving over to the Olive Garden, “Well, I do need a new fleshlight BUT THATS NOT WHY I’M HERE. I wanted to ask when we’re gonna go workout, because I know it’s not tonight.” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I thought we’d be able to, but I’m working late. But I am off tomorrow, so we can go whenever you want,” Mike nods before looking around the shop, grabbing a fleshlight off of one of the shelves and setting it on the counter, “That’s 75 dollars. Pay up.” Mike hands him the money and he sets in the register, “Alright, there’s your fleshlight, freak. Get out.” Mike laughs, knowing the Levi’s joking.

Anybody else would think he’s being serious, but in reality, he couldn’t care less, and that’s why he worked in a sex shop. There was no shaming people, even if he didn’t like it. To sex shop workers, it was simply buying what you needed to get off, and it was far better than buying toys online. That way you could actually see and feel to make sure it suited your preferences and tastes! Most people thought only creeps worked there, but truthfully, you needed to have very good people skills, and be willing to openly talk to people about something so private.

...

The lights were finally up, with Levi’s help! Of course, (Y/N) did do most of the work, but regardless, she was grateful. The two hold each other, looking up at the bright decorations and lights, “Y’know...For a sex shop, you gave it a really good look.” She swats his arm playfully before looking into his eyes. They pull each other closer, sharing a soft kiss and pulling back, just barely, before deciding they both wanted yet another one, making this one a bit longer. 

They finally pull back, panting slightly, before (Y/N) speaks, “How much time do you have until you have to get home?” Levi checks his phone, setting it in his coat pocket, “Maybe half an hour, why?”

“....A quickie?” Levi smirks as he feels (Y/N) fingers run over his undercut, sending chills down his spine, “I’m trying to show you I’m better than that! I think your genuinely nice, and I don’t just wanna fuck you.”

“So...That’s a no?”

“It’s a yes, I’m just saying-”

And so, they spent those thirty minutes in the back of Levi’s car, hidden behind the store. What a night.

[troop-scoop]

Mistakes & Regrets VII

Summary: When a trip to your Dad’s hometown of Hawkins goes wrong, you end up in the year 1983, and have to learn how to cope with being stuck in the past.

Pairing: Steve Harrington / Future!Reader (like, a really slow burn)

Warnings: Swearing, name calling

•••

You could feel the sunlight on your eyelids, making everything behind your eyelids appear as a dark red. But almost as soon as the sun was on your eyes, it was gone. The side of your bed dipped down when weight was added to the mattress and a gentle hand was holding your shoulders, a familiar voice coaxing you awake. 

“Y/n. . . c’mon, wake up.”

Opening your eyes you could see Jonathan sitting next to you, Nancy next to him, looking down at you, holding a cardboard cup of coffee in her hands. 

“Wha?” You didn’t have enough energy to pronounce your ‘T’ in the word, knowing that they understood what you were trying to say while laying down in your bed, early in the morning with your hair sprawled out around your head. 

“Get up, c’mon. Get dressed.” Jonathan was being gentler than he had been the day before. Instead of barging in and making a ruckus while you were just waking up, he was being nice about it. 

“Why?” You asked, leaning more into the pillow underneath your head, pulling the duvet closer to your shoulder that were exposed to the cold air. 

Jonathan avoided the answer to the question. “I’ll explain in the car. C’mon, we got you coffee. Rise and shine.” With that he stood from the bed and you grumbled a bit at feeling the sunlight back on your face. The door to your room, wide open. 

Nancy placed the cup on the bedside table, and she stared for a moment at something on the table by the lamp. Something you didn’t have enough effort to even look at. 

You sat up, grabbing the coffee and taking an unsure sip, testing the dirty bean water to see how hot it was. 

“What’s this?” Nancy asked, picking up what she’d been looking at. You turned your head, feeling your knotted hair move across your bare shoulders. She held up your long dead phone, the black screen smudged with your finger prints and a bit of dried goo by the home button. 

It’s not that you couldn’t charge it, you had the charger for it. You supposed out of all of the moments you could have gone missing and end up in the past, you chose the right one, with all of your essentials being in your bag when you ran off. But charging your phone, only to see the photo your Uncle took of a place called Balboa Park in California, made you nervous. The thought of seeing photos in your camera roll of your family scared you. 

“That’s uh. . .” You struggled for a few seconds for words. “My phone.” You answered. 

“ There’s only one button.” Nancy observed. “Oh, sorry, four.” She corrected herself upon seeing the volume and power buttons. 

“Nancy, we don’t know how future technology works.” Jonathan told her, going to the open door and closing it, returning the room to the dim lighting you usually kept it in whenever you went to bed, or wanted to lay in bed and be depressed. 

Your attention turned to Jonathan as he turned back around and saw you staring at him. 

“I believe you. You left this at my house.” He said reaching into his bag and pulling out your sketchbook. With everything going on, you hadn’t even noticed you’d left it at the home when you’d left. But that meant he’d had it for since before the funeral. and hadn’t mentioned it. 

He flipped to a page where there were different doodles you and your Dad had done while eating pastries and drinking warm cafe beverages. He usually always got a coffee, you always got a hot cocoa when you went with him. It was tradition every Friday. 

“That’s not his DnD character. It’s one of his friends.” Jonathan pointed to one figure on the paper, that was colored in with crayon, because yes, you and your father still used crayons. 

“It’s Mike’s. He doesn’t know you, there’s no way you could know his character, so that means you’re not lying” Nancy spoke, placing the dead phone onto the bedside table again while you got out of bed, placing the coffee on the table, not caring that you were wearing a tank top and underwear, with no bra. 

“Y/n-” Jonathan started, only to get cut off by you.

“Why would I lie? What would the benefit be for me, huh?” You demanded, walking to the dresser, pulling out a pair of pale blue jeans and pulling them on over your underwear. “Oh, yeah, I’m Y/n Byers, haha, jk, jk, just fucking with you.” You said in a mocking voice, mostly to yourself as you zipped up the jeans and grabbed your belt. “As if I’m not gonna be talking about this shit in therapy ten years from now, in- oh wait, not my year, but rather fucking 1993! Mean Girls won’t even be out yet, the fucking IPhone won’t be invented yet! I’ll have to continue going to a fucking payphone every time I wanna call someone if I’m not here!” 

It was all getting on your nerves, it wasn’t very late in the morning, meaning they woke you up way before you were supposed to, and while the coffee would help, you didn’t appreciate them somehow finding the spare key you had to the room. 

“Oh, and I’m gonna have to keep saying Czechoslovakia instead of the Czech Republic and Slovakia because they won’t separate for another ten fucking years!” That was directed in Jonathan and Nancy’s way, and they both blinked in surprise, staring at you as though you’d lost your mind, and if a stranger had heard you, they would think you did. 

But Jonathan was the one who stuttered his way back into conversation. “Al- alright. . . Any-anything else?” He asked, holding the strap to his bag that was resting on his shoulder. 

“I have plenty of shit to complain about, Jonathan. I’m choosing to not start a fight right now.” 

Jonathan was stunned back into silence, watching as your demeanor was now that of a sad toddler. Your moods always fluctuated for about an hour or two after you’d woken up. Pulling the belt through your belt loops you reached into another drawer, pulling out a sweater and bra and walking to the bathroom. “Can’t even change in peace, in my own damn room.”

•••

“No! No, we’re not going off of a theory that this thing is like a Lion, Coyote, fucking Bear hybrid in behavior!” You yelled from the backseat, still holding the coffee. “It is 7:52 am, guys! I should be in bed, not yelling at you two for a stupid idea, a- a- a fucking hunch!”

Nancy turned in to face you from her seat, He blue eyes intense with determination as she stared at you. “If Will’s your dad, you want to find him, right?” 

“That’s not fair-”

“If you want to make sure you’re still born, this ‘hunch’ is all we have.” Nancy shot back, silencing you as you sunk into the carseat, holding the cup closer and taking a slow sip, intentionally making the annoying slurping noise, only to be disappointed and even more annoyed when Nancy turned away and faced the windshield again. 

“You’re both gonna get me killed.” You commented lazily, propping your feet up on the center console, continuing to drink your unflavored and unsweetened coffee, grimacing at the taste every time, but hoping and praying that you hadn’t built up a tolerance to caffeine. 

Jonathan pulled into a spot that wasn’t ‘technically’ a parking spot, and turned off the car, turning to face you like Nancy had. 

“Okay, do you- do you know of any way you could possibly get back to, you know. . . your time? I’m sorry what year?” 

You stared at Jonathan for a moment, because he had such a familiar face, and yet, he felt like a stranger. “I think I’d have to go back to that place. And although I really do love being able to say things other people understand, I think I’d rather live through history than go back there.” 

Your attitude changed, going from light-heartedly bitter about being woken up, and annoyed with their plan to get the monster that you called a Wendigo, to sad and down. Because it made it real. 

You’d never fall asleep in the back of the car listening to your Dad and Pa playfully argue and banter while your brother blasted his music so loud you could hear it with your own headphones on. 

Long days where you went to school, your brother’s orchestra performance, and then dinner would no longer be a thing. Your nights wouldn’t end with your Dad putting your music on for you. Because no matter how old you’d gotten, your Dad was still your Dad, and he’d always been there, even if it was for something as simple as turning your music on for you. 

Looking down at your lip you fought against the tears, refusing to cry in front of them. That was only something you did alone. 

“I’m gonna get some food.” You said quickly getting out of the car with your bag in hand. Jonathan followed suit.

“Y/n-”

“Stop.” Your voice shook as you looked at him. Holding the top of your backpack with a death grip, “You two go buy your fucking Sam and Dean Winchester bullshit, I’m gonna get something to eat. It is eight in the morning, on a Saturday! I am tired, I am hungry.” You told him. “So, I am going to go to the cafe down the street and get a muffin or a breakfast sandwich, and I will meet you back here!”

You didn’t mean to constantly be yelling at Jonathan, after all, he was one of your only uncles. But this wasn’t your uncle. He was just Jonathan Byers, whose brother was stuck in a dark and scary place, hiding like you had.

And you were just a kid. A teenage girl who didn’t know what to do. Who felt as if your world was crumbling all around you, pinning you to the ground so you couldn’t get up.

The only thing you could do right now to make anything around you seem even remotely okay, was to eat, try and pretend like you didn’t just choose your fate in the back of an old Ford while a sixteen year old version of your uncle stared at you. 

So you’d gone down the street, fighting against tears until you heard people talking, verging on hushed arguing. So you looked up and saw the movie theatre sign, the letters put into place to say ‘All the Right Moves’ but right after, red spray paint saying ‘Starring Nancy The Slut Wheeler’ 

You knew the hand writing, with Steve having once convinced you to look over Tommy’s English paper. You’d given up barely halfway in, the spelling getting on your nerves and the grammatical errors hurting your head a bit too much. You’d told him to go to one of the tutors in the library. 

Looking down the street a bit more you saw the culprits, Carol, Tommy, Nicole and of course Steve. 

There wasn’t a reason in the world for this. And although you’d never been in a relationship, you knew how a boy's mind worked. Especially a boy like Steve. Who was turning out to be the biggest asshole in disguise. 

The group of four slipped down into an alley, and as if on auto pilot, you followed them, now ignoring your original plan of getting something to eat.

“Steve!” You shouted when you finally reached the alleyway, watching as Tommy was taking a can of red spray paint from inside his jacket. Their attention turned to you as you made your way over the older male, who’s facial expression and body language was unreadable. “What the hell was that?” You demanded.

Tommy uncapped the can and stepped up a small set of stairs that only took him up off the ground about a foot, and started working on a cruel message on a piece of plywood. 

“Y/n, just go home.” Steve said firmly when you reached him. Shaking your head you stared up at him. You didn’t know why you were angry. You had no right to be. He wasn’t your problem, and your dads always told you to ignore men and boys like Steve Harrington. 

“Steve, just tell me what happened.” You urged. You shouldn’t be giving him a chance to explain himself, you could have just turned him and his friends in as the vandalizers of the theatre. You should’ve, because you should still be angry over Jonathan’s camera. 

“What does it matter?” He questioned while you grabbed the sleeve to his navy blue jacket. 

“It matters because that’s public humiliation, not only in general, but to the girl who I’m pretty sure you’re dating?”

Steve only huffed and pulled his arm away from you. “This is why it doesn’t matter. Cause see, you have this little soft spot Jonathan Byers, you’ll defend him no matter what I say.” He huffed, looking away from you and at the letters Tommy was writing with the spray paint. 

“Steve, that’s not fair. You were being a grade A cunt when you broke Jonathan’s camera, okay? And now? You’re acting like a little bitch. Your little feelings are hurt because of something Nancy did, so you’re gonna humiliate her? Stay classy, Harrington.” 

He turned his gaze back to you, glaring. Now his feelings were evident, he was angry and sad. And wouldn’t tell you why. 

“Hey, L/n, wanna know something that even my little sister knows?” Tommy asked, pausing for a brief second and looking down at you, a cigarette between his lips. You quirked up an eyebrow. “Little girls should be seen and not heard.” 

You scoffed a bit at Tommy’s comment, a bitter and fake grin coming across your face as you put your hands on your hips. “I wish I could say I’m surprised that you're a misogynistic piece of shit, but I’m not.” You looked back at Steve, taking a step back from the group. “God. Steve, I thought you could be a good person. But you’re the biggest asshole I’ve ever met”

You went to leave but the moment you turned around, you saw Nancy, close to angry tears as she walked down the alleyway to where you all were. You stood in place, not leaving her side, and not Jonathan’s either as he followed after Nancy. 

“Aw, hey there, princess!” Carol said with feigned happiness as Nancy finally reaches her spot in front of Steve. 

“Uh oh. She looks upset.” Tommy stated the obvious while you gave the couple space, leaning against a parked car and watching as Steve turned to face Nancy. As well as watching while Nancy raised a hand to slap him against the side of his face. The only causing you to flinch being the sound that the three other teens made in reaction to their friend being hit. 

You’d seen worse at school before. Having watched a fight go down where a kid tried to brace his fall after being pushed, and broke the bone in his forearm. You still got shivers whenever you remembered the large bump in his skin where the bone was presing gainst. 

“What is wrong with you?” Nancy inquired. 

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? I was worried about you. I can’t believe I was actually worried about you.” Steve’s voice trailed off at the end, being followed by a scoff, as if he was disappointed in himself. 

“What are you talking about?” It was clear that Nancy was just as clueless as you were as to what was going on with Steve’s sudden betrayal against Nancy. 

“I wouldn’t lie if I were you. You don’t want to be known as the lying slut do you?” If there was anyone at Hawkins High who you hated more than Tommy, It was Carol. 

“Speak of the devil,” Tommy hopped down from the top of the small set of stairs. “Hi.” He said with a smile, putting the cigarette back in his mouth and wrapping an arm around Carol. 

Turning you saw Jonathan coming closer, his presence finally being registered by the others. It finally clicked. And it seemed to click for nancy too. “You came by last night?” 

“Ding! Ding! Ding! Does she get a prize?”

“Look, I don’t know what you think you saw, but it wasn’t like that.” Looking over to Jonathan he was holding out a hand for you to come over and take. You removed yourself from the situation and went over to your uncle, grabbing onto his sleeve. 

Because at times, he was just the face you knew as your uncle growing up, who bought you your first camera in fifth grade, and bought you lightroom and photoshop in sixth when you were thinking about going into photography in highschool. And right now, he was that familiar face, who could see how uncomfortable you were and was offering comfort. 

“What, you just let him into your room to. . .” Steve gave Jonathan a quick glance before looking back down at Nancy. “study?” 

“Or for another pervy photo session?” Tommy laughed, your grip on Jonathan’s sleeve tightening. 

“We were just-”

“You were just what?” You wished you could intervene, but you couldn’t. Because you didn’t know what happened last night after you left the Wheeler household. “Finish that sentence.” 

You looked up at Jonathan, and saw the way he was looking at the couple. And it slowly made you realize, that this was your aunt. You’d never called her ‘Aunt Nancy’ she was always just ‘Aunt Nan’ to you, and no one ever bothered to correct you. And maybe you were looking too much into things, but she did look very similar to your aunt. 

“Finish the sentence.” Steve challenged. 

Nancy just took deep breaths to stay calm, while you stood and watched as Steve shook his head at her response of choosing silence. “Go to hell, Nancy.” 

Jonathan stepped forward and grabbed onto Nancy’s arm and pulled her back a bit. “C’mon, Nancy. Let’s just go.” 

You went to turn around but Steve began to talk again. “You know what, Byers? I’m actually kind of impressed.” Jonathan and Nancy turned away, beginning to walk to the street again, with you following after until you saw Steve give Jonathan a harsh shove to the back of the shoulder. 

“I always took you for a queer, but I guess you’re just a little screw-up like your father. Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah that house is full of screw-ups.” 

The words were getting to you. Because that was your family. Your grandmother, your asshole for a grandfather, and your uncle. And you’d never let words get to you, but these were striking you deep, and hard. But you didn’t turn away, you just kept taking steps like Nancy and Jonathan who tried to ignore the shoving, and Harrington’s cruel words. 

“You know, I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised. An bunch of screw-ups in your family.”

“Steve, walk away.” You snapped turning to him while Nancy told Jonathan to leave it alone. 

“I mean, your mom. . . I’m not even surprised what happened to your brother-” 

You threw the first punch, your dominant hand balling itself into a fist and colliding with Steve’s nose. And the moment you heard the thud of bones cushioned by skin hitting each other, and the deep, yet dull and constant pain in your knuckles you knew you’d made a mistake, even if it felt satisfying to hit him. Because the moment you pulled back swearing and hissing at the pain in your fist, Jonathan had followed your lead. 

Jonathan’s punch had a bit more weight behind it, and made Steve grab onto a pole to regain balance. You started something, but you didn’t know what.

You screamed out at Steve to stop the moment that he tackled Jonathan to the car you’d leaned against, and so had Nancy. 

When Steve had pushed Jonathan onto his back and on the ground, you felt as if the pain was your own, your spine tensing up the moment you heard the thud. 

“Steve!” You yelled while Jonathan switched their positions, rolling them over so he had the better position to hit. You hated that Steve’s friends were encouraging it. Well, at least Tommy was. Carol and Nicole knew when things had to end. 

It happened fast, with barely any time to process it. All you knew was that Jonathan had Steve on the ground a second time, Steve’s face bloodied and already swelling and bruising when the cop car came. Nicole and Carol running off when Tommy told them too. All you knew was that Jonathan hit a cop, and Steve and Tommy ran.

•••

@disneyprincessbuffyannesummers​​​​ @jxnehxpper​​​​ @yllwtaxi​​​​ @songofcosplay​​​​ @potatopooper05​ 

[blvckhvert]

[ DAVID CASTAÑEDA. CIS MALE. 29. ] Welcome to New York City, [ ANTONIO SUÁREZ ]. [ HE ] is affiliated with [ THE HORSEMEN ] and spend their days as a [ BOXER ]. They have lived in New York City for [ EIGHT YEARS ] and are known for being [ STAUNCH & RESOURCEFUL ], as well as [ FLIPPANT & VENGEFUL ]. They were [ FIFTEEN ] when they found out they had the power of [ DARKNESS MANIPULATION ] and have been classified a [ LEVEL 3 ]. (KIP. 24. SHE/THEM. EST) / [ HITMAN ] 

murder tw & death tw !

Basics !

Name: Antonio Suárez (will respond to Tony but prefers Antonio)  Age: Twenty-nine Hometown: Chicago, Illinois  Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Ability: Darkness manipulation  Occupation(s): Boxer & hitman for the Horsemen Education Level: High school (made it to senior year, but never graduated)   + Traits: Staunch, resourceful, & assertive - Traits: Flippant, vengeful, & cocky Mini Playlist: Another One Bites the Dust -- Queen // Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap -- AC/DC // Kill of the Night -- Gin Wigmore // Cold Blood -- Dave Not Dave // Used to the Darkness -- Des Rocs // Dead Inside -- Younger Hunger // Everything Black -- Unlike Pluto & Mike Taylor // Don’t Stop Me Now -- Queen

Backstory !

Born to two loving parents on a hot August night fifteen minutes after his twin, Marco -- Antonio never knew a moment without the other.

As they grew and developed their personalities, it became clear the pair couldn’t be more different from each other. Marco was always so serious while Antonio couldn’t help cracking a joke -- even in the most inappropriate times. Overwhelming pessimism and never ending optimism, cautious and reckless, reserved and loud mouthed -- whatever Marco was, Antonio wasn’t and vice versa. Despite all their differences, the brothers got along well -- balanced each other out even. Every time Antonio was ready to leap in head first, there was a gentle hand to hold him back and give some thought to what he was actually about to do and in turn Antonio would be one of the few to get Marco to actually loosen up.

Of course it’s not all sunshine and rainbows with siblings -- arguments are bound to happen. It was a particularly heated one over some dumb stunt Antonio pulled during a warm September afternoon that triggered everything. Antonio disappeared in a cloud of darkness only to reappear a few feet away and Marco accidentally shot a beam of light a few inches to the left of where Antonio was standing. Once the shock wore off -- Marco decided it was best if they kept this between them, to which Antonio agreed. Who knew if both their parents were gifted or not -- best not to risk it.

It seemed fitting that they find out at the same time and that their abilities be polar opposites of not only each other, but also their own personalities. If nothing else, Antonio thought it was another humorous stunt pulled by the universe. 

A few days and minor accidents passed and Marco finally decided it’d be best if the pair (Antonio really) were more responsible with their newfound abilities. So they started practicing in an abandoned warehouse (it’s truly a miracle neither one accidentally killed the other one). 

Antonio and Marco weren’t from the best neighborhood in the city so it wasn’t uncommon to see crimes (mostly small ones) take part around them. Rather impulsively, Antonio suggested that they actually put their abilities to good use rather than simply fucking around in a warehouse. Plus, two young gifted doing the city a bunch of favors couldn’t hurt the gifted public image. Marco wasn’t for the plan, but Antonio told him he was going to do it regardless so Marco decided to tag along -- if not only to ensure Antonio didn’t get himself killed.

So there they were -- two dumb kids in even dumber outfits armed with nothing but a very amateur handling of their powers out to deal with some crime in the streets of Chicago. And it surprisingly worked for a little over two years. It wasn’t a every night thing -- Marco insisted that they get rest and not neglect their school work (if Antonio’s grades got any worse there would be no hope for passing) and Antonio insisted he maintain some sort of social life. They largely went after smaller criminals -- knowing better than to bit off more than they could chew. If either were noticeably injured, they told their parents that they were jumped while walking back home (their parents definitely started getting suspicious towards the end).

It was all fun and games until it wasn’t. The fated night came when the duo bit off more than they could chew. It happened in a flash -- Antonio got careless and naturally Marco stepped in and ultimately paid a price for it. Antonio tried his best to get Marco to the nearest hospital in time via shadow teleporting several times, but it was too late -- Marco died in his arms.

The first few months after Marco’s death passed slowly. Antonio was consumed by his grief and guilt -- rarely leaving his dark bedroom. The rest of the world carried on as if nothing had happened. Sure, the justice system was “looking into it”, but it wasn’t going to likely end with any real justice -- not when Marco was a gifted. His grief started to twist into a dark need for retribution where the justice system was failing to deliver.

Several more months passed by -- all a dark blur of lurking in the shadows in an attempt to find the man responsible for Marco’s death. Still only a teenager, he relied heavily on using his ability to intimidate and harm whoever he could get his hands on for information. Eventually he came face to face with the man he was seeking and after quite the struggle, he got his revenge. It wasn’t what he expected though -- he thought he’d feel better, but he didn’t. Feeling even more confused and lost, he fled and never looked back.

The years in between running away and reaching New York are a hazy mess of fruitless efforts to fill some kind of void. He worked a few odd jobs here and there and sought out all kinds of distractions in places he never intended to stay before up and leaving again.

Eventually he found himself in New York. The first year was more of the same purposeless motions until he caught wind of the Horsemen. Fighting for mutant rights -- sounded like something Marco and him would’ve done had they been more mature, more realistic in their dreams, so he said fuck it and joined up with them.

Having a purpose, a direction to follow -- it was good for him. He seemed more like himself than he had in years -- even if it was initially just for appearance’s sake. He even got a steady job boxing (lack of a diploma or GED and odd job experience left him pretty limited -- but hey, he could take and throw some punches).

Now he’s living it up with the Horsemen and ya know, disposing of anyone he’s told to.

Headcanons !

This guy is obnoxious with his shadow teleporting whenever he’s somewhere where he knows he’s not going to have to put up with prejudice for being a gifted. Like need him to go somewhere more than ten steps? He’s going to shadow teleport. 

His role in the Horsemen is rather dark, but he cracks jokes or makes smartass remarks about it all the time. Very “If you’re going to kill a bunch of people -- you might as well have some fun with it.” kinda has some Zsasz energy from Gotham tbh. 

He keeps most of the details of his life before New York vague -- claiming he’d like to keep an air of mystery around himself to keep things exciting, but in reality there isn’t much of his life that didn’t involve Marco and it’s a subject he’d still rather not touch.

Antonio is a real ride or die bitch for all members of the Horsemen. It doesn’t really matter to him if they don’t have a close personal relationship or if they don’t necessarily get along -- he’ll still put his ass on the line for any of them without a second thought. 

“Am I a murderer? Yes, but I’m a loyal murderer so I still think I deserve nice things.”

Again, he’s pretty indifferent to his role in the Horsemen -- sometimes the ends justify the means and it’s not as if he’s a stranger to violence or a little murder.

There really is no color in his wardrobe -- which in his defense is smart because he blends into shadows easier when dressed in black from head to toe but still. 

He has a little minimalist light bulb tattooed on his wrist for Marco, but if asked about it he simply shrugs and says he was drunk and blindly pointed to something on the wall to get tattooed. 

Listen, my man only has resources from his role in The Umbrella Academy so we’re just going to roll with the facial scars. When you live a dangerous life (amateur vigilantism, boxing, contract killing...)  you’re bound to get a few anyway!

Wanted Connections !

Can be found here !

Anything you want to throw at me! 

[causeiwanttoandican]

I think I hear he sound of shattering glass coming from Vancouver.

The Telegraph

Kate steps up: The making of a future Queen

Revealed: The crack team building and shaping the Duchess of Cambridge's royal future

By Camilla Tominey, Associate Editor

7 February 2020 • 9:00pm

It has been exactly a month since Harry and Meghan announced that they were stepping back as senior members of the Royal Family. For the past eight weeks, column inches have racked up about the ‘Megxit’ bombshell and its impact on the institution of monarchy.

Yet amid all the hysteria and hullabaloo, one of its most important members has been serenely going about the business of keeping calm and carrying on.

Until now this kind of understated behaviour may have been most closely associated with the Queen, but it is her modern day equivalent, the Duchess of Cambridge, who has been quietly putting duty first with increasing visibility.

A recent UK tour to launch her landmark survey on early childhood, combined with well-received visits to Bradford and Mumbles, may at first look like Kate making a conscious effort to fill the void left by her brother and sister in law.

Yet as has ever been the case with the middle class girl from Bucklebury who married into the Firm almost a decade ago, that would be to underestimate a woman who has never made a show of her royal role.

Motherhood to monarch

Having discreetly spent the past eight years beavering away on the causes closest to her heart, Kate has finally found her voice and is determined to use it. No longer willing to be seen but not heard, sources say she is now ready to commit the rest of her working life to raising awareness of the importance of childhood - and its impact on adult life.

Although she never took the credit for being the inspiration behind the Heads Together mental health campaign spearheaded by William and Harry - having witnessed its extraordinary impact, there is a sense that the Duchess has finally realised just how much she is capable of.

“The Duchess has worked quietly away in the background for years,” said one well-placed royal insider, “And now she knows that people want to hear from her”. No longer as fearful of public speaking, and fast carving her own path out of the shadows, Kate’s landmark online survey '5 Big Questions on the Under Fives’, will mark the start of decades more work on the subject, according to aides.

“It’s much easier to speak out when you know what you’re talking about and passionate about your subject,” added the insider. “She has become an expert in early years learning, she understands the science and is respected in the sector because she has spent the past eight years working it out. But she also wants to find answers. This is about evidence based research.” The first results of the childhood survey are due next month.

Kate’s gentle yet inquisitive manner was never more on display than when she met wheelchair-bound Harvey Bentley, 90, in Mumbles on Tuesday. The warm exchange was filmed by Mr Bentley’s son-in-law Mike Sutton-Smith

This kind of reaction is certainly welcome after arguably the most testing period for the monarchy since Diana’s death. With two of the so-called ‘Fab Four’ poised to set up their own projects in North America, the focus for the Cambridges will not only be on putting duty first but in a non-partisan, but an extremely effective way.

As one observer noted: “It is a bit of a paradox, having such a naturally introverted person in such a high-profile position. I think that’s what people find endearing about the Duchess. She’s not a showy person. It’s a deeply British trait.”

And one which she certainly shares with Her Majesty who also has a quiet confidence and sense of reserve when interacting with the public.

Of course, accession may still be decades away, but preparations for the royal couple to become the next Prince and Princess of Wales were already well underway before Harry and Meghan’s move to Canada.

Yet while efforts had previously been ploughed into elevating the status of the man who would be king - there is a new, and arguably even more compelling project now fully in progress at the palace: the advent of Queen Catherine.

So much so in fact that team of academics have been drafted in to help the mother-of-three shape her royal future, with input from the highest echelons of government and even the security services.

Likened to a modern-day version of the Way Ahead Group, set up to rebuild the monarchy in the aftermath of the Queen’s ‘annus horribilis’ of 1992, the Duchess’s steering group of experts has informed her focus on early years learning and helped her to grow in confidence in her royal role.

Working royals putting duty first

As the royal couple prepare to celebrate their tenth wedding anniversary next year, 2020 is set to be momentous for the Cambridges.

Projecting themselves as a family unit - and a relatable one too - has become a priority and was behind them agreeing to the prime time Christmas TV special with national treasure Mary Berry, which saw the royal couple cooking souffles while discussing the work of their Royal Foundation, the philanthropic vehicle for all their charitable endeavours.

With talk of trips to Ireland, Chile and Columbia already in the offing, and both having recently launched major charitable initiatives - including William’s Earthshot Prize - a multimillion pound project to ‘repair the planet’, the next 12 months will see the pair try to bring what one palace insider describes as the ‘calm after the storm’.

The source added: “What you are going to see with the Cambridges is a couple carved very much out of the Queen’s mould: Duty first.”

Having had three children in swift succession and with Prince George, six and Princess Charlotte, four, now in school and Prince Louis turning two in April, Kate’s priorities have shifted.

According to one well-placed source: “Over the last 12 months they have realised the potential power of their platform. They understand that by launching these long term projects they can genuinely make a big difference. They’ve been told clearly by people the impact that they can have if they pick the right spaces - things they care passionately about.”

Just this week we have seen William discuss diversity at the Baftas and his mental health initiative Heads Up, tackling the issue through football, has been well received. As with Earthshot, described by one aide as “the biggest thing the Duke has ever undertaken”, it’s about saying ‘we can do this’, rather than ‘this is too daunting’”, said a source.

“The Royal Foundation has been going for 10 years now. What they want to do is a smaller number of things on a bigger scale. For the Duchess, the early years work is something she will lead for the rest of her life. It's easy to dismiss it as nice and cuddly, but the focus is going to shift from how much childhood issues affect adult mental health and on the social side, it's as significant as climate change.”

While both projects and their recent visits to Yorkshire and South Wales had been in the diary for months, there is no doubt the ‘Sussex situation’ has escalated matters. “A hell of a lot of responsibility rests on their shoulders and they’ve just got to get on with it,” said royal author Phil Dampier. “I think they are both resigned to spending the next 30, 40, 50 years as heavyweight royals.”

A formidable asset

Government hopes are also being pinned on William and Kate flying the flag for post-Brexit Britain. The Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO) was “delighted” with their highly successful visit to Pakistan last year, which helped to demonstrate the Cambridges’ worth to UK Plc. There emphasis will be on ‘youthful yet dependable royalty’ - demonstrating the power of the Royal Family both home and abroad as a formidable ambassadorial asset.

This was certainly on show last month as William hosted his first major state occasion - a reception for the UK-Africa Investment Summit - on behalf of the Queen at Buckingham Palace.

Standing alongside his wife, many royal watchers noted how much more publicly demonstrative William had become towards Kate. During the reception he was uncharacterstically nostalgic, saying: “The African continent holds a very special place in my heart. It is the place my father took my brother and me shortly after our mother died. And when deciding where best to propose to Catherine, I could think of no more fitting place than Kenya to get down on one knee.” When a wellwisher in Mumbles complimented William on Charlotte, he replied: "Yes, she is lovely - just like my wife."

And it is this kind of gentle encouragement and support which is intended to propel his wife to the next level - where her dependability turns into the kind of ‘soft power’ which can affect real change.

Or as one insider put it: "They are going to be doing what politicians can't do, with such a comparatively shorter shelf life. Only royals can think about this scale of change on a generational basis - and that is what the Cambridges are determined to bring about."

A crucial appointment for Kate will be her next private secretary following the departure of Catherine Quinn, the Oxford-educated right hand woman who has helped to chart the past two years. The Telegraph understands a replacement is yet to be found and the Duchess is continuing to be supported by her assistant private secretary and Simon Case, the former civil servant who has been William’s closest adviser since July 2018. Case previously worked for former Prime Ministers David Cameron and Theresa May and that they are taking their time, searching for someone of Case's calibre for Kate is certainly telling.

The couple arguably have another, equally pressing legacy project: the future survival of the monarchy. William has certainly been working in ‘lock step’ with his father and grandmother to find a solution to his brother and sister-in-law’s desire to leave the Firm.

The Telegraph can reveal that the second-in-line was also much more involved in the decision for the Duke of York to step back from public life last November than has previously been reported.

When Prince Andrew travelled to Sandringham to hold talks with Prince Philip and Charles - he also held a meeting with his nephew, believed to be at Anmer Hall, the Cambridge’s Georgian country house on the Queen’s estate in Norfolk. According to a source: “William spoke to Andrew for about an hour. They met separately. The Queen and Prince of Wales both agreed he should be fully involved in the discussions - he is very much a part of what has become a triumvirate of decision-making these days.”

No Fab Four Anymore

As Joe Little, editor-of-chief of Majesty magazine points out, there needs to be a shift in focus now that Harry and Meghan have handed in their notice. “Prince Charles had hoped to have a slimmed down monarchy with his own children and grandchildren as the major players, but he has had to revise that masterplan in light of recent events.

“The House of Windsor was riding high for such a long time with weddings, babies and jubilees, William and Kate have got to restore some of that magic.”

Agreeing that the Duchess’s role will be key to ensuring a modern-day monarchy is fit for purpose, he added: “There’s a mystique about Kate like there has always been about the Queen.”

While Harry and Meghan appear intent on politicising their future role, for William and Kate it is going to be all about the three S’s: stature, strength, and stability

[deimagines]

Second Chance (A Steve Rogers‘s Sister Imagine)

Imagine that Steve Rogers A.K.A. Captain America. Actually has a baby sister who was only eight when Steve has to leave her in the care of their neighbor to go to war and was ten when she was told that her brother had disappeared and was soon entitled dead in action.

And then, almost seventy years later, Steve was told that his sister was still alive and had shockingly worked for SHIELD before going into retirement. Unfortunately, she has cancer and is about to die soon. And in her final moments, she asked him to do one final mission for her.

To raise her only granddaughter.

(This will also include a few ocs, and again I hope you enjoy!!)

(Play me)

~1942 (Brooklyn, New York)

“Okay Y/N,” Steve calls. “Time for bed.” 

Y/N Rogers. The eight-year-old sister of Steve Rogers was not only the biggest sweetheart in the world. But she was the only thing that Steve would ever consider the only family that he has other than Bucky, who he had considered as a brother since they were kids.

Y/N runs through her room that Steve made her clean before she took her bath and brushed her teeth. It was a normal routine that Steve had become used to ever since their mother passed away. Unfortunately, Y/N didn’t have a chance to get to know their mother very well. And it was hard to answer her questions about why they didn’t have a mother or a father when all the other kids like her have.

Steve didn’t have a choice but to answer truthfully in the most gentle way as possible. He told her that their mother had to be away. And that she was so sorry that she couldn’t be with them longer. Y/N soon then understand why they needed to visit the large stone that Steve took her once and every year on the birthday of their mother.

Once Y/N was in bed and Steve tucks her in and kisses her forehead. 

“Night Y/N.”

But before he could leave the room. She calls out to him in a soft tone.

“Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“Ginger wants a song.” She holds her handmade toy, that she made with their neighbor Miss Audry, and held it a bit high to show Steve. 

He smiled and came right back to her side bed. “Well, what does ‘Ginger’ want to hear?” He sat at the edge.

“The one you always sing,” Y/N answered. “Please.” She gave him the eyes that could possibly make all men hearts melt no doubt when she grows older.

Steve chuckles quietly and leans closer to her. “Alright, but then it’s off to sleep. Ok?”

Y/N nodded happily and lay back down and snuggled into the blankets. 

“At last my love has come along

My lonely days are over.

And life is like a song.”

Steve smiled as his sister began to drift off to sleep and she purposely holds his hand that was resting on her stomach while he sang and smiled lovingly as he continued.

“You smiled and then the spell was cast

And here we are in heaven.

For you are mine at last. . .”

He whispered the lyrics when he made sure that Y/N was finally asleep. He kissed her forehead again took his hand back carefully without waking her up. 

“Goodnight Y/N.” He whispered.

***

“Peggy. . . I’m gonna need a raincheck on that dance.”

Peggy sniffs. “Alright. . . A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club. That way you’ll have enough time to spend with Y/N.”

“You got it. Tell her I’ll read her her favorite when I come home.”

“Ok. . . Eight o’clock on the dot. Don’t you dare be late. Understood?”

“You know. . . I still don’t know how to dance.”

“I’ll show you how. Just be there.” 

“We’ll have the band play something slow. I’d hate to step on your------” Suddenly the radio went to complete static.

“Steve?” Peggy whimpered. “Steve?” She choked. And General Phillips only looks down in defeat. Loosing yet another soldier in battle.

“Steve?” Peggy tries again until she gave up and covers her face in sorrow being left alone in the control room when Phillips couldn’t bare the sight anymore. With only one thought remains in his head now. 

‘How am I going to break the news to the kid?”

~2012

In a home near Brooklyn New York. Y/N Rogers was lying peacefully in her bed with a book in hand. Multiple pictures were placed on her bedside drawer. Some of the pictures contain the day her wedding, the day of her only child’s birth. And her pride possession, her oldest brother. Taken before he was injected with the serum.

When Y/N found out about Steve. She was explained by a man in a suit and her guardian, Miss Audry, a kind old neighbor of the Rogers, that Steve died fighting for what’s right. He saved countless of lives that day when he sunk the Valkyrie down into the ocean, including himself.

Y/N wanted to hate her brother for as long as she can remember. She wanted to hate the visits that her brother’s friends made to keep her company. Making sure the memory of her brother still lives in their own point of views instead of the ones the public claimed.

She hated to admit that she enjoyed their visits. Especially the ones a certain British woman had come and made. 

Peggy was practically like a sister to Y/N whenever the older woman made the time to visit and chat on the things they did and the lives they were making. But most of all, they talked about Steve.

Y/N was doing the most of the talking though. She gave Peggy every detail about the life and childhood Steve have given to her along with the embarrassing stories she had of him. And she wouldn’t change anything about it. They bonded through the years sharing the pain that was stuck inside them like a tumor. But they often reminded each other that Steve wouldn’t want them to sulk up their lives mourning for him. He would want them to be happy.

But as Y/N began to grow up. She found that waiting on men at diners and sitting at home cooking and sewing for her entire life wasn’t the one she would proud of.

So she began to find the opportunities and worked her ass off long enough that it lead her from working at John’s as a waitress to Agent Martins of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.

But Y/N, along with the rest of her fellow comrades, mostly like to call it by its acronym. SHIELD.

Y/N  thought it was best to hide her true identity to avoid any enemies.

She devoted herself to the work that her brother had inspired to create with the help of Peggy and another friend of Steve, Howard Stark. Y/N finds him both silly and amusing to play with when she was a child.

And when Howard made a decision to make Y/N the godmother of his first and only son, Tony. She hesitated at first, fearing that their line of work was bad enough to have children. But she soon agreed to it when she found a love of her own after 10 years of working in SHIELD.

He was daring, practical, smart. But most of all, he was the only nephew of Colonel Chester Phillips. Micheal Aaron Phillips. But most people view him as ‘Mike’.

Mike was a few years older then Y/N was. Making her a bit timid by his appearance and skills. But the skill that Y/N was glad that Mike lack of was arrogance.

He was there when Agent ‘Martins’ was assigned to retrieve an artifact that was stolen from SHIELD. Her brother’s shield.

After their mission. Mike was intrigued by the girl that his Uncle Chester has told him so much about before he signed up into the organization.

Soon enough a spark ignited between them and little did they know that they found themselves in a small church getting married after many long years of dates, picnics, and the watchful eyes of her protectives Howling Commando uncles.

Boy, was that Mike afraid of their eyes.

After then, Y/N gave birth to a healthy baby girl, Dahlia. And 34 more years later, she was blessed with a granddaughter, named Sarah.

Dahlia’s husband heard the name once from Y/N and instantly had a liking to it so much that he practically begged Dahlia to name their daughter after Dahlia’s deceased grandmother. Dahlia found no argument to it and also agreed.

When Y/N retired, she lived a happy life in Brooklyn where she and Steve grew up in. She tells stories of her times to her only beloved grandchild and her daughter and son-in-law.

Until that one night, Y/N was contacted by an officer who gave her the horrific news.

News that would leave Sarah an orphan and a heartbreaking Y/N.

After taking in of what’s possibly the only blood relative she has. Y/N made sure to share the exact pain she had with her brother’s passing and emerge that pain with the loss of her daughter and son-in-law.

Y/N made sure that Sarah was constantly reminded that she was not alone and she would always be loved. It too broke her heart immensely that she could no longer see her daughter and son-in-law anymore. Angry that the universe took yet another piece of her heart. 

And Sarah, she soon began to understand why mommy and daddy aren't coming back.

But it was okay. She has her granny after all. Every day they would go through her granny’s special cookbook that was gifted to her by a very special friend of hers a long time ago.

On other days, they would go to their spot in Central Park to have picnics and play tea parties much to Sarah’s delight.

But she began to notice the tired eyes that her granny was showing every now and then.

She can remember the constant times when she would visit the hospital with her grandmother as the doctor and she talk about grown-up stuff. Sometimes she would eavesdrop on their conversation and began to pick up certain words that she hardly understands.

Plasma cells.

Multiple myelomas.

Cancer.

Sarah watched as the people in white clothes, doctors and nurses she soon found out, bringing the equipment into her grandmother’s room.

Lately, she’s been doing her regular routine in her grandmother’s side bed and was always asked to wait out in the hall when the doctor comes and checked in. 

In the real world. Y/N was always advised that she should take her final moments at the hospital. Where they could treat her well.

But every time she denies. Saying that she wanted to have her final moments with her granddaughter in their home where they had made so many wonderful years together after her daughter’s passing.

She wanted to die in a place where she can relax. Enough to forget that she was going away. Forever.

When the months pass, Sarah ‘s birthday was coming up soon. She’ll be turning eleven in two months time. She was beginning to grow a little taller too. She was just about above the high countertop where she and Y/N used to make their recipes together. 

She’s going to miss that. It wasn’t sugarcoated that Sarah knew she was going to lose her granny soon. Even though she barely remembers her parents. Granny was practically the one she would always love more than anyone else. And she wasn’t just her grandmother or the person she was raised by. She was her best friend.

Ring. Ring. Ring-

One day, the Rogers residence got a call. Sarah was hesitating to answer, but Granny was taking her rest and the only other adult in the house was still outside getting the groceries bags from the car outside.

So without any other options, she took the home phone and click the green button.

“Hello?” Sarah answered.

“. . .Hello, is this Helen Cho?”

Sarah was greeted by a man’s voice. Asking for Helen.

Helen Cho was the doctor that Y/N’s godson had assigned for her care. Insisting that she needed the best of the best. No charge.

“No.”

“Oh. . . well, in that case, would you mind handing the phone to Doctor Helen Cho?”

“Why? Are you a doctor too?”

“No my name Phillip J. Coulson. I’m a friend of Josie Rogers. Is there an adult that I can speak with sweetheart?”

This man- Phillip- asked and before Sarah could answer. Helen appeared through the front door with the groceries.

“Sarah, who are you speaking to?” She asked in a kind but also tired voice as she carried the heavy groceries haul into the kitchen and sets them on the counter table.

“There’s a guy on the phone.” Sarah says and Helen panics a bit but she hides it anyway so that she wouldn’t startle the little girl that she was growing to love during the past 6 months.

“He said his name is Phil-” Helen didn’t answer the child as she hurries and swiped the phone off of Sarah’s hands.

“Hello. Who is this?” 

“Helen. It’s Coulson.”  

Helen covers the phone with her other hand. “Sarah, can you take out the groceries, please?” 

Sarah shrugs, not caring about the man anymore. “Okay.” And runs off to the kitchen.

Helen places the phone back to her ear. “Agent, what a surprise.” She says quietly, not wanting the child at the other room to hear her. 

“Hey, Helen.” Coulson greeted. “How’s everything in the household?”

Helen looks behind her shoulder to see the girl in the house taking apples out from the paper bag. “Well enough. But only for so long. Listen, everything I’ve done. Everything I did won’t slow down her condition Coulson-” 

“Just give me the straight answer Helen.” Coulson interrupted her and she closed her eyes for a moment then said.

“Probably a month. But that’s me being hopeful. . . She’ll be gone in any week by now. She’s growing weaker by the day.”

Helen stopped herself to sigh and holds her emotion to spare Coulson. She knew how he favored his mentor all those years ago.

“But anyway. What else did you want to know?”

After a few words being answered to her question. Her eyes had suddenly grown slightly big and she was practically gapping in the spot on the hall.

“A-are you sure?” She asked. “. . . When?. . . Alright. I’ll let her know. Have a good day Coulson.”

She pressed the off button and placed the home phone back to its charge before placing a hand on the wall to hold herself up.

After a minute of silence, she straightens herself up and began to walk upstairs to where her elder was resting. When she got to the room, she knocked on the open door to present herself.

“Who is it?” Y/N was staring at the window with studied eyes as she watched the leaves blowing against the wind. How she loves the little things. Its what kept her sane ever since she was on house arrest. Or that’s what she likes to call it.

“It’s me. Helen.”

Y/N turns and smiled sweetly at the young woman. “Helen. I see you and Sarah are back from your trip to the supermarket.” 

But then, she noticed that expression on her nurse's faces and began to worry a bit. “What’s wrong dear? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

If only Helen could correct her statement. But to tell her the news. Cho sits at the end of the bed by Y/N’s legs and calms herself enough to speak.

“They found him.”

Y/N frowns then said. “What? Helen who found who?”

Helen gulps and Y/N asked again. “Helen?”

The young woman let out a big breath and said. “He’s alive Y/N. Your brother. Captain America. He’s alive Y/N.”

Y/N’s breath hitched and she blindly searches something to hold with her hand and found the offering of Helen’s.  felt like she wasn’t going to breath. It was like she was in one of her dreams. Having someone to tell her that her brother was alive had been one of the biggest fantasy she’s ever had ever since the Valkyrie drowned into the sea.

She looks at Helen to see any tricks or hallucination that could be happening in her head right now. Wondering if this was another trick from her lack of energy. But Helen’s eyes answered it all.

He’s alive.

                                                          _*_*_                                                             

Steven Grant Rogers. Captain America. 

Steve Rogers.

After being found and wakened up. 

He was so studious about the many changes in New York.

Most of the woman that he’s seen were wearing pants.

Large television screens were placed all over Time-Square.

And as if it didn’t get any strange, it did when he saw a young woman with what looks like a pierced earing on the bottom of her lip when Fury and some other agents took him inside of the main headquarters of SHIELD.

It was a strange event for him to wake up so suddenly in a fake medical ward and was later being chased by armed men out of the building until they caught him in Time Square.

Seventy years. Almost anyway.

That’s how long he had been gone from Fury’s statement. He had been asleep for almost seventy years. But it felt like he had been asleep for only one night. It was surreal even. 

So surreal that he even considered that he was just dreaming and that he would wake up any moment now in one of those uncomfortable cots that he had just gotten used to after so many periods of sleep on rocks and hard pavement when he and the Howling Commandos were off doing missions on Hydra’s bases.

He imagined that Peggy would be at his side when he wakes. And miraculously, they would manage to bring his baby sister in and she would jump into his arms like she always does whenever he managed to visit her back in Brooklyn.

But he needed to remind himself that he was only daydreaming, hoping. And that he really did disappear for so long and was later found by SHIELD. 

He can never get that dance at the Stork Club that he promised his best gal.

Never got the chance to give away Y/N at the altar on the day of her wedding.

Not even a chance to meet his niece. Dahlia Phillips.

By the time when he was escorted to Fury’s office after being changed into some different clothing that was given to him when came to the headquarters.

He was carefully told that SHIELD was founded by Howard Stark. Chester Phillips, and Margaret Carter. Made it a successor to continue the old government that Steve once remembered, the S.S.R.

He was explained that after the war was won, many agents were sent to find, or retrieve Steve back starting from where the Valkyrie was last seen. 

Trails went cold. And some had even given up on the search until one by one, the agents dialed down to a single crew. 

To the public, Captain Rogers was 'presumed' dead. Even some of America’s top leaders suggested to give up the search on Rogers. Seeing that he is just what history claims him to be. History.

Until now.

Then all of the information hadn’t even matter when Steve asked about his sister.

He was only given the basics. That she graduated in one of the finest schools and college. Got married to an honorable man and had a kid and a grand-daughter soon enough.

And before she did the family dream with a picket fence. She was an agent.

Steve was shocked as Fury told him about the ‘success’ his sister made for SHIELD. How she was the first youngest agent to be initiated at the age of 22. And was once made the head director of SHIELD for about three decades until she retired and gave up the position to Fury.

To be honest. Steve was actually proud of Y/N. Even if he didn’t want her to live a life as an agent. Still, he was angry that she wanted to place herself in heavy situations that he’s probably going to have to give her one of his ‘big brother talk’ moments that he missed giving to her ever since he got into the war.

Which reminded him something. He asked about how Y/N is now. He didn’t even hide the hesitation when he asked. It was clear that no matter how long you have or how healthy you are. Death will always come so fast that you can’t even see coming. Especially working for the government.

Fury did his definition of sugarcoating and told Steve that his timing was so practical when Y/N only had a few weeks to live.

Suddenly, Steve found himself going through memory lane. Thinking about the times to every pain he felt in his life.

From the bully punches in the alleys and streets, Project Rebirth, and the deaths of Dr. Erskine and his long-time best friend, Bucky.

All of the physical and emotional pain was hitting him all at once in just that second. 

His little baby sister was dying.

Though he was glad that she lived this far. Building a family of her own as she works her way into SHIELD like it was nothing. It surprises him that she even got the time to have one. A family. Fury even gave him the name of the grand-daughter that Y/N loves to death.

Sarah. That’s the name of Steve’s great-niece. Named after his mother. And he couldn’t wait to meet her already. 

“When.” He asked. Not adding any more explanation after he said it. Knowing that Fury would easily understand about what he’s asking.

“Now.” Fury said. 

It was about time that Captain America is going to meet his baby sister again after almost 70 years.

                                                         _*_*_                                                            

A clean vehicle with very privacy glass to hide the back passengers that were being taken to Brooklyn. It didn’t go unnoticed when Steve saw the large changes in the city that he had grown up in. 

New buildings were built and the small apartments that he crossed so many times in his youth were replaced by shops. And the shops that he remembers, along with the Stork Club were replaced by different ones and numerous names were popping out everywhere the vehicle goes. Some were even repeating like McDonald’s and Taco Bell.

He’s going to have to ask someone about them later.

During the trip, Fury was kind of kind enough to give Captin with some grand updates that he had missed during his time in the ocean. One of them being the Civil Rights of Act 1964. 

Steve couldn’t help but smile at the fact. Y/N’s favorite neighbor, Miss Audry was a sweet old black woman that lives in the apartment that was just under their’s. She would always take care of Josie whenever he had to go out to work. Her wish came true.

It wasn’t until they crossed through Brooklyn Bridge that his nerves started to kick in and his knee was subconsciously beginning to bounce. His eyes looking out at every buildings and house they passed to take the time to calm himself a bit until they get to the address that Fury only knows. 

Suddenly the car slows down to a stop in front of a terraced house. “Here we are.” Fury said.

Steve couldn’t help but gulped quietly while the palms of his hands began to sweat his nerves out. Brushing them against the fabric of his pants to try to push off the weight that was holding him down to his seat.

“Ready to meet them?” Fury asked. 

At first, Steve thought that he must’ve misheard him but then remembers that there was another Rogers that lived in the terraced with his sister.

Fury opens his doors and Steve did the same with his side. Closing the door as he got out and looks up at the terraced more clearly.

It was a very nice light blue home with white-framed windows with white curtains hanging inside for privacy.

Steve followed Fury as they make their way past the small gates that was standing in front of the house and marched upon the small porch. Fury pressed the doorbell before turning back to Steve. 

“You’ll have a day with her. After that, I’ll send someone to pick you up in the evening. Good luck.” He patted his shoulder and left him standing alone on the porch. Speechless.

Steve looked a bit panic and was about to turn to call for Fury to come back but stops himself when the door opened.

“Yes?” A woman’s voice says and Steve was surprised when he turned to see a young Asian woman at the door. Questionable eyes looking at him and waiting for an answer.

“Hello, ma’am.” It was the only way that Steve could start with.”I’m here to see-” 

“Steve Rogers.” The woman suddenly said with a small gasp and eyes widened. And it was Steve’s turn to look at her in question when she said his name. Wondering how did she know him?

“Yes, uh. . . how did you-”

“You look a lot like in the pictures that Y/N showed me. Only, you’re a bit more. . . bigger.” She gave him an awkward smile. Feeling a bit intimidated that THE Captain America was standing by the doorstep. 

“I’m Doctor Helen Cho.” She greeted formally. “Y/N is currently under my care. Has been for about a year now.” 

She offers her hand and Steve takes to handshake as the words ‘doctor’ and ‘care’ came into mind. “So you’re the one who’s been treating my sister?”

“Yes.” Helen answers. “Why don’t you come in.” She opens the door wider and lets the captain. He said his thanks and went inside as Helen closed the door behind him. 

Steve took a small time to glance around the interior of the house and felt a homey feeling that radiated from the beige painted walls with family pictures hanging. Some were dated back to the 40′s and the now. 

“Follow me.” Helen said as she went and steps up to the stairs in the hall that leads up to the upstairs floor. Not blind to catch the old soldier’s nerves as he lets out a small sigh before following her behind. 

Every step he took felt like he was walking knee deep in water and when they got to the floor, Helen gestures him to a door a the end of the hall. “Right over here.”

It only took a few more steps until they reached to the front of the door. Steve held his breath as she knocks on the hardwood. 

“Come in.” A frail voice answered from the other side and Steve felt a small trail of goosebumps forming on his arms. 

Helen opens the door and pokes her head in. “Hey, look who’s here.” 

She opened the door fully and steps aside for the old woman to have a full image of Steve, who was still standing in the hall. He hesitated at first but went in either way. 

The first thing he noticed about the room was the floral wallpaper pattern on each wall. A wooden dressing table stands flat back on the wall with numerous medications on it along with some portrait pictures with a small jewelry box by them. 

The only decor in the room that was out of place was the noticeable medical monitor and the IV bag and pole standing beside the luscious bed. 

And on the bed, was the woman that holds a special in Steve’s heart the second he first held her in arms when she was just a newborn. 

“Hey, Stevey.”

Y/N Rogers’s eyes watered as she began to cry in relief when Steve entered the room. Happy that he was alive and well. 

As for Steve, he couldn't believe that this gray hair and fragile human was his baby sister. The only thing that didn’t change was the contagious smile that he oh so love very much. That seeing it made him teared up and he waste another second as he goes over to the side of her bed and sat on the chair that was placed there. Taking her hand when she outstretches it to him. 

He finally found the strength to smile back to his sister and pressed the palm of her hand against his cheek. And suddenly a pained look slowly formed on his face.

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly in regret. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N’s eyes furrowed at him. “For what?”

Steve looks at her, confused. “For everything. . . For leaving you and everyone else-”.

But Y/N shakes her head to him. “No, you didn’t leave. . . You saved me.” She caressed the back of his hand to comfort him. “If you didn’t manage to stop the Valkyrie, everyone that we know in New York, including myself would’ve died from the impact.”

Steve still didn’t understand. “But-”

“But nothing!” Y/N said. “Whatever you’re thinking. Whatever thought that made you so regretful. I want you to know that I forgive you.”

Steve looks at her surprise. 

“I forgave you for a long time now. Knowing that holding on to the anger that I had for you would only cloud my judgment to the world. “Y/N held in her sobs and her grip on her brother’s hand tightens. But it wasn’t effective enough seeing as Steve wasn’t bothered by her touch but by her words.

It was his turn to smile in relief and then kissed her hand before saying. “I’m here now, Y/N. I’m here now.”

She hums happily and patted the back of his hand. It was then that she noticed a small figure hiding behind the frame of the door in the hall. 

Y/N let out a small chuckle and called out to the little one. “You can come in, Sarah.” 

It was the small gasp that took Steve’s attention away from his sister and turns to see what cause such a small noise. At the doorway, there stands a small girl staring at them with hands all fiddling. Curiosity was filled in the child’s eyes as she looks at the stranger that was sitting beside her granny and holding her hand. 

“Come in Sarah.” Y/N urges. “There’s someone I liked you to meet.”

The girl hesitated. Not taking her eyes off the man, she quickly went up to her granny at the other side of the bed and jumps on to it until she was fully seated by her grandmother.

Y/N moved to the side a bit to make room for Sarah. When she moves around a bit to find a comfy position, she turns to Sarah and said. “Sarah, this my brother. Steve. You're great-uncle.”

Steve would’ve laughed at the title if he wasn’t still so the shock of how Sarah looks so much like Y/N when she was at her age.

He distinctly remembered that the last time when he saw Y/N was when she had turned ten. Sarah looked about the same age as her grandmother when Steve left her to go and fight in the fields with the Howling Commandos. He also remembered the many letters that he wrote to her as well the teasing comments that he got from the fellas when they thought that he got a gal back at home.

They weren’t wrong.

“Hi.” Steve said to the little and she only smiled shyly and gave him a little wave.

“Hello.” She managed out and looks back at her grandmother to whisper her something by her ear.

“He’s your brother?”

Y/N smile. “Yes.”

“But why isn’t he old like you?” Sarah whispered again and Y/N only chuckles at her granddaughter’s question. And judging by Steve’s amused look. He definitely heard his grand-niece and wasn’t bothered by the question. 

“It’s a long story, Sarah.” Y/N said. “But for now, why don’t you go and see if Helen needs help in the kitchen.”

“Okay, Granny.” Sarah then jumps down from the bed and runs out of the room.

Y/N and Steve both smiled at the child’s behavior

“A lot like me isn’t she?” Y/N said. 

Steve held back a laugh. “Scary.” And they both laughed.

They both had a lot of time in the room. Catching up the times that Steve had missed. And occasionally he would tell him a bit of his time in the fields and stories about his war pals. Y/N even told him about the ridiculous behavior his Howling Commandos had whenever she would go on a date with a boy. Steve didn’t whether to laugh or be proud by the job that his commandoes filled in when he wasn't there to be the overprotective brother like should’ve been.

And what’s more touching is that Y/N had asked Steve to go to her bookshelf and take out a book. Before he could ask which one, his eyes landed on one peculiar one. ‘The Hobbit’. Her favorite bedtime story. He then vaguely remembers about what he said on the Valkyrie. ‘Tell her I’ll read her her favorite when I come home.’ which was the book he was holding now. He looks at her with tears and she just nodded. So Steve got comfortable beside her bed and began to read the first chapter.

He tried everything in his power to remember the smile as Y/N laughed and talked about how iconic the book had become and how Sarah was also an admirer of the novel. Not wanting to forget it until the time of her lifespan was suddenly gone. And when it did. He almost forgot it. After the Chitauri war in New York. Y/N’s heart just gave up, during the day before she could even take her afternoon nap. The funeral was lovely, and shockingly, Tony Stark appeared beside the family. As his title as the godson of one of SHIELD’s greatest agents in history.

Steve was still surprised that Howard made Y/N the godmother of Tony. When they met at the Hellcarrier, Tony did mention that Y/N, along with his mother, were the only ones that gave actually damn about him instead of his own father. Who would bragged to him about how ‘great’ Steve Rogers was.

But it didn’t matter. What only matters now, was to give a eulogy as Y/N written in her recent will.

The church was filled with old veterans, retired agents, as well as other people who had their hearts touched by Y/N. Peggy would’ve been there too if it weren’t for her alzheimer’s.

After Steve was done, the priest asked if there was anyone that would like to say a few words.

Surprisingly, Tony stood up and brought out a small folded paper from his pocket. When he got behind the podium. He cleared his throat.

“Hi, I’m Tony.” He started off. “I’m Y/N’s Godson-Well. . . was.” He faltered.

“Growing up, my father became the person he was ‘till he dying breath. A failure of a father.”

Steve grimaced at the words. He was certain that Howard would someday change but failed to acknowledge how good of a father Howard would become. Tony became that living result.

“Despite being a genius. I still have trouble coping with the world. My father was too busy to acknowledge the importance of teaching me how to catch, how to talk to girls, and most of all, how to be a human being. Y/N Rogers had the interest to fill in that role.”

Though no one could see, behind the podium Tony had his hand clutched tightly into a fist to maintain himself.

"She made me the person I am today. She is the quarter of why I shut down the weapons manufacturing division from my company. And she was. . . she was human. And I guess that's the only way that you can describe Y/N. She was human. And she was loved. I guess we can never stop loving someone who had left an incredible mark in someone else's life. And I know that she wouldn't want me to stop caring the world, otherwise, I know that she would kill me if I did."

A few chuckles were heard around the church. Even Steve managed to smile at the comment. But a few silent sobs were heard from the back of the room.

“Y/N, we’ll miss you. . . I’ll miss you.” Tony had a slightly lost look on his face for a second and then clears his throat. “Thank you.”

With that, Tony got off the stage and went back to his seat beside Sarah and Steve.

“Thank you.” Steve said solemnly and quietly to him.

“Thought I should get it over it,” Tony said. “I would’ve regretted it if I didn’t.”

“She would be proud of you.” Steve added.

“She is.” A small voice interrupted them and they both look down at the child sitting between them. “She told me so.”

Tony blinks at the girl then stares off back to the casket. “Thanks, kid.”

“Your welcome Uncle Tony.”

Tony would’ve normally told Sarah to not to call him ‘Uncle Tony’. But just for today, he let it slide.

Once the service was done. Everyone stood up and waited for Steve and the other veterans who were picked to be the pallbearers carried the casket out of the church and the crowd followed behind them in a slow marching pace. All the way to the large burial ground behind the church.

When they set the casket inside the large hole, white roses were passed to everyone. And one by one, they dropped it on top of the casket while whispering their final goodbyes.

The last to place their rose was Steve. And when he let go of the rose into the hole. Everyone was beginning to leave. And as the time passed, the only ones who were left standing by the now finished grave, was Steve, Sarah, Tony, and Helen.

Helen was only there mostly for Sarah’s benefit. She had grown very close to the young child that she didn’t have the heart to leave her alone with Steve.

Beside her, Helen decides to break the ice and started whispering a certain situation with Tony.

“You know, lawfully speaking since you are Sarah’s godfather. There’s a possibility that she could be wind up being in under your care.”

It was true. Since Tony and Dahlia had known each other from Y/N. Dahlia made Tony the godfather of her only child. Knowing that even before he was Iron Man and his conscience had finally kicked in. She trusted Tony enough to be the godfather. Much to her husband’s dismay.

Not paying attention to the whispers behind him. Steve suddenly felt a small human hand enclosing itself with his own. He looks down and sees Sarah looking up at him. Sending him a small smile, trying to comfort him in the best way she can.

“We should probably go. Granny doesn’t like it if anyone stays in the cold too much. You could get sick.”

It had begun to get cold. The clouds in the sky indicated that it was going to rain soon and the winds brushing against them was getting colder by the minute they stood there.

So with an exhaled breath, Steve nods at his niece’s small proclaim before clearing his throat. “Okay, let’s go.” He gave her a somewhat convincing smile and gently firmed his grip on to her hand. Carefully not to hurt it and they began to walk away from the gravestone. Mentioning Helen to follow them since she was their ride.

Tony watches as Steve helps Sarah into Helen’s car. Helen’s words were repeating in his head.

Under your care.

“No,” Tony thoughts. “They need each other. . . it’s what she would’ve wanted it.”

And it was indeed.

=============================================================

Hey! So I hope you like the story. And just to let you know, I’m thinking of making it into a Wattpad fanfic book. So let me know on the comments below. And I will try my best to upload it as soon as possible. And of course, there will be a pairing but it’s going to be a very slow-burn pairing between Sarah and a certain hero in blue spandex.

Thank you for taking your time to read my imagine and my message. 

Mahal kita!!!!!

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Homeward Bound: Chapter 9

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader, Billy Hargrove x Henderson!Reader

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13

Chapter Summary: Home coming meant finding old friends and remembering old pain...

Word Count: 5,332

Warnings: Swear, Pregnancy mention

Author’s Note: Happy Canadian Thanksgiving! Fuck Christopher Columbus! He didn’t discover Canada but, you know, fuck ‘em.

Series Tag: @moonstruckhargrove @kurt-nightcrawler @baebee35 @supernatural-pants @thoughstofaredhead @bby-becca @fear-the-reaper115

Permanent Tag: @hotstuffhargrove @denimjacketkisses @hargrovesgoldilocks@casaharrington @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @hipsmcgee

She was still in her pyjamas, hair wrapped tightly first in rollers and them in a red silk scarf, pink bunny slippers on her feet. She looked royally pissed, but not intimidating in the slightest.

“Morning, mom.” You said, slipping in the door before she could give the whole neighbourhood a show.

“Where the hell have you been?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest, tapping her foot to an angry rhythm.

“Jenny Stein’s. I slept over.” You replied shortly, pulling off your shoes and dropping your purse by the door.

“Why didn’t you call?” she asked, not really caring about the answer. You were in the wrong and she wanted you to admit to it.

“Because I lost track of time. It’s not a big deal, I’m obviously not dead or missing.” You replied, matching her tone.

“I almost called the police.” She said, as though that information was going to affect you.

“Wouldn’t do you much good, Steve knew where I was the whole time, he would’ve just told you again and hung up.” You chuckled, turning and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m fine, you knew I was fine, and if you were worried, you could’ve driven over to Jenny’s or sent Richard.” You said, turning on your heel and up the stairs before the petty argument could continue. 

Your mother had, despite leaving a powerless marriage, entered into a relationship with a huge power imbalance. It was not Richard’s fault, per say; he was a lovely, you certainly liked him and was more than happy to see them get together. But he was an old fashioned man and your mother loved to please. So, they fell into an old, sort of patriarchal relationship-despite being his secretary when they met, your mother stopped working and returned once again to the isolation of the home, where, without young children to care for, she was at odds with herself. Meanwhile, Richard worked long hours and was often away. This was fine when they weren’t married, because he’d call every night or even bring her along, but now she seemed to always be at home. He wasn’t cheating on her, lord he’d never hear the end of it if he dared to look at another woman, your mother had simply worn out her welcome with his associates. This left your mother constantly at odds and bored. So, she over dramatized little things like her adult daughter coming home later than expected.

You made a bee line for the bathroom, shutting out her incessant yelling up the stairs by turning on the water and letting it run warm as you changed. The second the water hit your skin, you let out a sigh. This was the best feeling you’d had in the last twenty-four hours. You let the water soothe your muscles and dampen your hair, rinsing off the sweat off your skin.

You always knew that the best place to hide from your problems was underwater. It worked well in two fold; one, the senses were almost always overwhelmed under water, making it hard to think, and two, even stillest pool was loud enough under its surface to muffle out the world. And so, when the world got too heavy or life bogged you down, you jumping into whatever water you could find and blocked it out until your mind was at ease enough to tackle a problem head on. It wasn’t exactly the best way to handle your problems, and you knew that, but at the end of the day, when life got hard, you still found yourself drawn to pools or rivers or oceans or simply your shallow bathtub, submerging your head and letting the sounds of life become as waterlogged as you intended to be.

From beyond the rush of the shower and the door, you heard the phone ring. You hoped it wasn’t Billy, not only would he ruin your whole plan, but you really didn’t want to see him again. It was all just too weird-it was like you stepped into a parallel universe in which you were at the centre. Maybe you had, Hawkins was just weird enough for that to be true. Either way, you didn’t like it. You hoped that he’d take the hint and move on, but you knew he wasn’t very good at catching onto things like hints. What he was good at, you weren’t sure anymore.

You knew you couldn’t spend all day hiding, so when your hair was significantly soaked, you turned off the water and rung your hair out, grabbing a towel and rushing to your room.

“Y/N!” you mother called, thoroughly annoyed and bitter, “You have a visitor!”

Your blood ran cold. “Just a second!” you called.

You didn’t want to go down there. He hadn’t, he wouldn’t. He had too much pride to just show up after been shafted. He was still at home, being an absolute weirdo. He didn’t remember where you lived.

Once you were dressed, wet hair pulled off your neck, you took a deep breath and opened the door. You peered over the railing, but no one was waiting downstairs by the door, whoever it was had gone into the sitting room with your mother. That was a good sign-Billy was not on good terms with your mother and she would never invite him into her sitting room, her own space not entered without care. Whoever it was had your mother’s approval. If it was just Steve, you’d probably scream before heading back upstairs to ignore your mother’s antics.

Your mother’s sitting room was different than the living room. The living room was a place of comfort, of relaxation and ease. The sitting room was a tense place where older family members met briefly, where family photos were taken, and the ‘nice’ things were kept. Normal, everyday living did not happen in that room. The furniture was expensive and floral patterned, the walls were lined in blush pink fleur de les wallpaper, the lamps were knockoff Tiffany and the glass panned cabinet was filled with wedding china, passed down from your great-grandmother. The whole place was a time capsule and you weren’t supposed to mess with the past. You walked in, already on eggshells.

Inside, your mother sat very carefully in the crocodile green armchair, passed down from your grandfather, worn and aged and musty-smelling. She was dressed now, purposely overdone, her lips painted hot pink. She looked stiff to you, which was worrisome.

You stepped deeper into the room, your eye catching the guest of the house. Your whole face broke into a smile.

“Nance!” you cried, drawing her attention and earning an equally big smile. She rose to her feet, a surprise second pregnancy already showing, her face glowing.

“Hey, Y/N.” she replied, opening her arms for a gentle hug, which you gladly accepted.

Nancy and you had not been fast friends when you returned to Hawkins back in high school. You two weren’t close in school before you left and then you returned, forced your way back into her circles and then did the unthinkable and shacked up with resident asshole Billy Hargrove, a criminal move in her eyes. She openly resented you, trying everything in her power to push you away. But once you were in, you refused to be pushed out and gotten rid of. You had to find out what was happening in Hawkins.

“How are you? Congratulations, by the way, I can’t believe you’re having another.” You said easily, releasing her.

“I’m alright, it’s still early so I’m still nauseous all the time, but I’m excited! I’m hoping for a boy this time.” She replied breezily, her hand coming instinctively to the bump.

“How is little Sybil?” you asked.

“She’s good! She’s with my mom right now. I swear my mother loves her more than I do sometimes.” She laughed. Karen Wheeler was a lot of things, but you rarely thought she was motherly. After three kids, she lost her identity completely and started chasing after her youth, leading to her affair with Billy Hargrove and, ultimately, her divorce. Both her and Ted still lived in Hawkins, a very awkward arrangement to say the least. Karen got the house and main custody of Mike and Holly and Ted got the car and a twenty-eight year old girlfriend, which boiled Karen’s blood more than anything else.

“Oh Karen must be loving that! Are you staying with her or Joyce? Or are you in the motel?” you asked giddily.

“With her, Joyce and Will aren’t coming in till next week; Will’s still got his graduation this week.” Nancy explained. You nodded, eyes slowly turning to your mother, who was watching you on baited breath for some sort of unexpected answer to be released.

“Nance, let’s go upstairs, alright, I wanna show you the book I’m editing for work.” You said. Nancy nodded, following you out of the room with a wave to your mother, already disappointed.

“She still trying to listen in on you?” Nancy whispered softly as you took the stairs. You nodded; rolling your eyes as you quickly looked behind to see if she was following you. She wasn’t, a surprise for her since she seemed to always butt in where she wasn’t wanted. She always took invitations one steps too far, often getting on the nerves of others. Now, she seemed to be giving you your space.

“So wait are you actually editing a novel up here? Is it yours?” Nancy asked, looking fondly around your old room.

You smiled “I am, but not mine. New mystery novel, it’s pretty okay.” You tried to keep the pride out of your voice. You weren’t really allowing yourself to talk about the book yet, especially with the people who inspired it. You wouldn’t want to hurt them or break ties over the stupid thing. Were you proud to have finished the thing? Of course, but hurting your friends and family wasn’t worth the eight thousand dollars you’d been promised in the deal.

“Oh cool! So the editing thing’s going well then?” Nancy asked, sitting down carefully on the edge of your bed.

“Yeah, they’ve still got me in the harlequin division, I most edit trashy romance novels and pulp mysteries. I also occasionally ghost write for some authors. They had me writing Sweet Valley High books for awhile.” You explained, subtly trying to adjust your papers to hide the loose novel on your desk and to keep them from catching her eye. Luckily for you, she wasn’t paying much attention to you.

“That’s fun, at least you’re writing. You do still want to write, right?” she asked.

You nodded “Yeah, I do I just…I don’t have the right story to tell right now.” You replied vaguely. “So, how’s the P.I. business? Any new bites?” you asked, changing the subject.

“We found that little girl Beverly in Pomona.” She said, frown lines creasing her forehead “But it didn’t do us much good. Turns out she’s eighteen and legally allowed to go wherever she wants, the aunt was just nuts.”

“Damn, did it hit the papers?” you asked worriedly.

Nancy nodded “Unfortunately, it did. And instead of asking for a statement, they just called us thieves and hacks, that didn’t help us much. We lost the Wanda Singh case because of it.” She explained, sighing softly.

“Is the ‘zine doing well at least, I got my copy last week it was pretty good.” You asked easily.

“Eh, I have no idea-Jonathan won’t let me read it. I’m surprised he’s got you on the mailing list. If you ask me, it’s all a bit pretentious.” She replied with a shallow shrug, shaking her head bitterly.

“Yeah, it’s more than a bit pretentious, but that’s Jonathan-he’s a music snob.” You replied, taking a seat next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she chuckled softly.

 “Being an adult’s hard, isn’t it?” you asked glumly. Nancy nodded, resting her head on your shoulder.

“I don’t know…you’re doing okay…” she replied, trying to find a bright spot in all of it.

You chuckled, shaking your head “Oh yeah, it’s alright, as long as I’m not here…here I do stupid shit…” you replied.

Nancy sat up “What did you do?” she asked.

“I slept with Hargrove…” you admitted softly, looking away.

“You didn’t!” she cried. You simply nodded, not wanting to say it again. “Why? Why did you even see him? He’s an asshole!”

“I don’t know! I ran into him, I wanted an excuse to be out of the house for a couple hours and he offered and ugh I don’t know- I didn’t want to sleep with him! I just did!” you replied, stumbling through your answer, trying to find the logic in it all.

“Couldn’t you have just hung out with Dustin instead?” Nancy asked, bewildered.

“Hanging out with Dustin means hanging out with Steve, I can’t even escape him in my own home, mom’s had him over for dinner already and I’ve been home for forty-eight hours.” You replied bitter;y.

“Are you still mad at him?” Nancy asked,

“Yes and no…it depends on the time of day.” You said, rubbing your face.

“What does that mean?” Nancy replied, forcing you to look at her.

“It means that sometimes, when I see him, I hate him and want to disappear, and then other times it’s like I fall back into old behaviours and we talk and it’s not awful. And then I remember what he did and I hate him all over again.” You explained.

“Isn’t time to move on? I mean it’s been years!” Nancy replied rationally.

“Riddle me this, are you still mad that Ryan Carson dumped you at the spring fling ball in seventh grade?” you asked. Nancy blushed slightly as she looked away, nodding slightly. “Yeah, because he was your first real relationship. Well, Steve was my first love and he broke my heart. So I’m still a little mad.” You said easily.

“I mean; not to be that guy, but Steve’s better than Billy.” Nancy said with a laugh. You scoffed, making her laugh harder as she cried “He’s self aware!”

“Oh please, Steve’s ego is as big as his hair.” You replied with an eye roll.

“Yeah well, since you wanna talk like sitcom characters, Billy’s got a class ring but no class, at least Steve can be humbled. You can’t teach class.” Nancy replied.

“And for the record,” she added “Steve’s changed. I never thought I’d stay his friend after everything, but he has been the biggest help with my own journey to recovery, as lame as that sounds.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” You replied with a shrug. Nancy sighed, flopping down on the mattress. You followed suit, staring up at the ceiling with tired eyes.

“Is it weird for you? Being back?” you asked quietly, connecting dots on your popcorn ceiling.

Nancy sighed “Yeah…it gets easier though…this is your first time home…” she replied.

“I just…it hurts but it doesn’t…I wish it hurt more…” you said. Nancy nodded, unsure what to say. “I haven’t gone to see Mrs. Macpherson yet.” You admitted.

“Suzie’s graduating this year, right?” Nancy asked, turning to look at you.

“Yeah,” you chuckled “I tried to get Dustin to take her to prom. Didn’t want her to go alone. She didn’t , went with Tommy’s cousin.”

“Tommy H or Tommy R?” she asked.

“Tommy H.” you replied, earning a snort from Nancy. “Apparently he’s nicer than Tommy!” you reasoned with a laugh.

“Ugh, Carol invited me to their wedding…” Nancy groaned, rolling her eyes.

“Did you go?” you asked, wide eyed and hopeful; the story would be so good if she did.

“It hasn’t happened yet. I haven’t said yes or no, but Jonathan won’t go. Says it would be lying to pretend that we were all friends.” She replied.

“I’ll go with you! We’ll trash talk the whole thing.” You offered with a giddy smile. You would kill to see how everything turns out.

“I gotta consider how big I’m gonna be by the wedding dates. After four months I get less and less comfortable and I want to leave the house less and less.” She explained. You nodded, more than a little dejected. Nancy smirked “You know…Steve’s invited too…”

You scoffed “You’re worse than my mother…” you said, rolling your eyes.

Nancy tried her hardest to act innocent “I’m just saying!” she cried, raising her hands in defeat. You nodded, grimacing as you sucked your teeth. Nancy groaned, forcing herself off the mattress with great difficultly. You offered her a hand, lifted herself and you back into a seated upright position.

“Come on, crabby pants, let’s go egg the high school or something.” She said, pushing herself back onto her feet and out the door.

You and Nancy didn’t start out as friends. When your little clan moved to Hawkins, Nancy was already the queen bee of the year below you and you being a year older had no chance of ever befriending her; it would’ve been social suicide, especially if you failed to befriend her. So you found friendship in fellow weirdo Heather Macpherson and suffered at the bottom of the social pyramid, Carol and her cronies torturing you whenever possible. Then, you moved in with your dad in Chicago and while you kept up with Heather, Nancy wasn’t even a second thought.

And then, you returned to town in a cloud of smoke and cynicism and took over the only thing she had to prove herself beyond the pretty girl image.

Though she’d never admit it, Nancy needed this case. She needed it to feel better about herself. After Barb died, she needed to push herself away from the carefully crafted ‘fun’ girl image she’d created for herself. She needed to feel smart and powerful and important again. And she did-she spent two years being respected by small town law enforcement and seeking out government secrets and killing monsters with someone she believed was at her level. And then you came back and forced your way in.

When Heather died that summer, you jumped head first into the underworld of Hawkins, ignoring her every attempt to push you out, to ruin your chances of figuring it out before her. You were at the same level, but unlike her relationship with Jonathan, where she was the dominant mind and planner, you thought on your feet and, unlike her, you didn’t mind failing. So, you fought and fought and pushed away from each other.

You’d just returned from the labs, they’d believed your story; you were in line for the internship. This was how you were going to get the files on the other experiments. Screw Nancy’s plan, it would only get you arrested faster, or worse killed. This was the safer way-you’d have access to the files, you’d have direct access to the people who committed these crimes.

You parked in your mother’s driveway, popping open the door and sliding out. You felt incredibly fake-you had chosen to dress the way your mother insisted made you look mature and serious, aka like Nancy Wheeler, save for the silver Virgin Mary necklace around your neck. That was borrowed from Billy, a way to anchor yourself as you lied through your teeth to people you knew had killed innocents for being in the way. Quickly, you tucked the chain into your shirt, rushing up the stairs and unlocking the door. Your mother was on the phone with someone, talking too loudly and sitting on the counter like a teenager. You took this unforeseen opportunity to rush upstairs, excited for the chance to change out of the clothes that felt unfamiliar on your skin.

You opened the door to your room, finding Billy collapsed on your bed, tapping his foot to the music playing out of your headphones. You smiled at the sight; it was so rare to see him at peace in his environment, relaxed and calm and not thinking of his next three moves. You walked up to the bed, pressing a kiss to his forehead, smiling as his eyes fluttered open and he matched your grin.

“Hey baby…” you muttered, reaching around the back of your neck and unclasping the silver clasp, releasing the necklace from its secure place around your throat. “You look a little naked, and not in the fun way.” You said, handing him the chain, which he quickly put around his own neck, clasping it before you could even offer your help.

“Thanks…” he said, sitting up to smile at you and give you a proper kiss.

“How was your day? You find ways to hide out from your dad?” you asked, sitting next to him on the bed. For some unknown reason, Billy was very worried that if his father noticed him without the pendant, he’d get in trouble. You knew what trouble meant for him, so you were naturally apprehensive to the idea of asking, but Billy was more than eager to comply if he was rewarded thusly.

“Hid out up here all day. Got out before he left too. I would’ve gone to the library like you suggested, but it’s not my scene.” He replied with a shrug.

“So you just used up the battery in my walkman instead?” you asked cheekily, not really scolding him.

“Consider it half your payment.” He replied with a smirk. You chuckled, shaking your head. He always managed to bring things back around to him.

“So…what’re you doing tonight?” he asked, leaning into you.

“Why? Looking to cash in?” you replied with a smirk.

“Maybe…” he said, fluttering his dark lashes.

You chuckled “Well in that case I’m busy.” You said “But I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Kicking me out already? He asked with a pout. You nodded, pushing him towards the open window.

“Yep, I gotta make some calls. Gloat to Wheeler that I beat her ass, again.” You said. While he didn’t know about the mystery, Billy was more than excited to hear you’d beat someone, even in the lame smart way you had. He leaned down, swinging one leg over the sill and then another, landing easily on the roof.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were into her.” He said with a smirk, fantasies already running through his dirty mind.

“Yeah? I could say the same thing about you and Harrington.” The smirk dropped off his face as you slammed the window shut, waving your fingers at him before shutting the blinds. You had too much to do to worry at him and his stupid fantasy.

You listened for your mother’s shrill goodbye on the phone downstairs before picking up your landline and dialling the Wheeler’s number. Nancy picked up on the first ring.

“Wheeler house.” She said, with a bored tone.

“I’ve pretty much got the internship. They’re just doing a background check and with Hopper on my side, Amelia Kingsley will be interning at the remaining Chicago labs by next week.” You announced, a proud smile brightening your face.

“And how do you intend on explaining to your mother that you have an internship in another girl’s name in Chicago?” Nancy asked forcefully.

“I won’t have to-the Chicago Labs, as they’re calling them, are just a new group a little outside Hawkins. I won’t even have to commute.” You grinned.

Nancy groaned, shaking her head “This is a bigger risk than just breaking in. If they catch you stealing they’ll kill you before they call the police.” She warned.

“They won’t catch me. I’ve already got bugs inside, Heather’s taking the reins on that one.” You replied.

“Fine.” Nancy huffed “I’ll call Steve and tell him the break in’s off. You call Joyce and tell her to get El to give us any other numbers she can remember.”

You felt a small smirk pull at your lips “No, it’s fine, I’ll tell Steve, I was heading to the mall anyway, I need a few more smart cardigans for the office.” You said.

“Y/N, that’s not a good idea.” Nancy said quickly.

“And calling him at work is?” you replied, matching her speed.

Nancy sighed “Steve and Robin are so close to getting together, don’t ruin it by distracting him.” She said, practically begging.

“I’m not trying to distract him.” You replied innocently, already imagining your outfit options, trying to find the most flattering and revealing pairing.

“Yes you are. You have Billy; you’ve made it abundantly clear that you like him. So stay in your lane.” She said.

“I’m gonna tell Steve.” You replied and before she could reply, you dropped the receiver, pulling off your ugly peach pink cardigan and plain white shirt in favour of something made of mesh.

It wasn’t until the trial that you two became friends, mainly out of desperation. You two were alone in this trial-Robin hadn’t wanted to testify and with you and Nancy being the only girls over fourteen around to talk to, you had to talk to one another. Jonathan was an emotional wreck, full of obvious anxiety and shaky nausea that made him impossible to deal with, Billy and you weren’t on good terms, and while you loved Steve, you needed someone else. So you had to rely on Nancy, something you’d never done before, and while it was shaky at first, you grew to understand each other. You sat together, usually in silence, trying to understand how your lives had gotten to this point. Then, you found your common ground: mutual hatred, the thing that bonds us all.

Suddenly, and without warning, you were friends and united in the struggle of dealing with the opposing team whom you loathed so much. You even got her to admit that certain people on your own team were annoying and tiresome. You nearly died when she, after three tiny bottles of rum, admitted that she found Jonathan just as pretentious as everyone else did. Likewise, you dished on Billy with as much fervour as Nancy could handle. And she admitted that she didn’t hate Billy nearly as much as she pretended you, stating that Steve needed to be taken down a peg or so to let him grow up. You agreed, much to her surprise. Suddenly, you weren’t so much an enemy but an ally in the cause of repairing your lives.

You stayed allies long after the trial, much to your surprise. You never assumed people would stick around; time had proven that to not be true to your life. But Nancy stayed, in her own way. You each moved to different parts of the country; her to Denver, you to San Diego, but you wrote back and forth whenever you could. It was a nice relationship-it didn’t depend on equal attention, you wrote when you had time and so did she. Sometimes, you’d write more than her and other times the roles reversed. Either way, not entirely by your choice, you stayed thick as thieves, hell you’d even met her baby and were a part of the madcap Vegas wedding ceremony.

And now, you were lingering outside Hawkins High School, contemplating going inside, an idea that was beyond you.

 “I just wanna see if they put up anything about us.” Nancy reasoned, pulling you towards the door.

“And I just really don’t wanna go in there.” You replied, yanking your arm out of her grip “So you can go in there and I’ll wait out here, tell me if my message is still up on the bulletin board.”

You hadn’t paid much attention to the sound of cars on the street behind you, nor the sound of the horn blaring behind you. But you turned when someone yelled out behind you.

“Hey Henderson!” the voice cried out, setting your nerves on end and turning your sweat cold.

Billy.

He was sitting in the front seat of a beat up tow truck, emblazoned with the logo for Sherman’s shop. He looked…well he looked like a small town hick, everything he didn’t want to be back in the day.

You slowly turned, taking a deep breath and finding a tight smile. “Hey Billy…” you replied, waving awkwardly.

“What the hell are you doing here? Come on I’ll give you a ride!” he called, motioning you over. Nancy grabbed your arm, squeezing your skin tightly, save for one fingering tapping out Morse code; Don’t. Do. It.

“I can’t! I gotta handle a couple clerical things for Dustin! Maybe another time!” you called back, confidence beginning to fill your blood.

“What about tonight then?” he asked eagerly, eyes training over your frame like a tongue. You tried not to shiver with disgust.

“I’ve got plans!” you replied easily, not trying to resist Nancy’s pull towards the front door “See ya around, Hargrove!” you called, waving politely as he groaned and drove off.

The inside of the school was almost as warm as the outside; the school still hadn’t invested in central cooling and instead let their students swelter inside and out. It also hadn’t been updated since long before you started there. The paint was peeling, the locker doors dented and nearly falling off their hinges. The note you’d left on the large bulletin board when you graduated was still there, much to your excitement.

Don’t let them make you forget things for their benefit. Remember pain. Remember embarrassment. Remember Heather Macpherson.

You were so mad when you wrote that, filled with white hot sadness and burning, misplaced anger and passion. The clean cursive on thin white card paper was marked with pain and marked with heavy lines dug into the card, your hand to hard and shaky on the paper.

You smiled at the note, planning to steal it on your way out, collecting one of the missing pieces of your old life and taking it away from the crummy world you’d left it in. Before you’d take it, however, you’d show Dustin, out of pride.

Nancy returned with visitor passes on cheap lanyards, hers already strung around her neck. “Rhonda says hi.” She said, handing you the plastic pass, which you shoved into your back pocket.

“Rhonda’s still here?” you asked, giggling more than you should’ve.

Rhonda White had been assistant head secretary when you were in high school, a marriage obsessed woman with long, sharp red nails that often mimicked talons and brown lipstick that was permanently on her teeth. She was always smoking, always reading magazines instead of working, always cracking bubblegum, and always in a bad mood.

“Apparently, still as annoyed as ever.” Nancy chuckled, shaking her head.

“You see a ring?” you asked, craning to look into the big, supported glass window to catch a peak of her.

“Why? You wanna pop the question?” Nancy giggled, beginning down the hallway. You rolled your eyes, trailing behind her. “Since you’re curious, no I didn’t, at least not a wedding ring.”

You clicked your tongue, shaking your head “Poor thing, she just wanted it too much.” You said, a smirk pulling at your lips.

“You wanna get married?” Nancy asked, pausing to let you catch up with her intense strides.

You gasped, a hand coming your chest as you tried to hold back a smile “Nancy! But what would Jonathan say?” you replied, feigning astonishment.

Nancy rolled her eyes “I meant in general and you know it.” She replied.

“I-I don’t know,” you said, trying to regain your composure, stomach clenching it fits of giggles “I mean…if I found the right guy and blah blah blah.” You said.

“I mean, I get it and I don’t wanna sound like your mom, but it’s nice.” Nancy replied.

“I’m sure it is but I’m not even thirty, so like I’m not worried about it. You know, not everyone meets their soul mate at seventeen.” You said, rolling your eyes.

A heavy arm came around your shoulders, making you jump out of your skin. “I mean I don’t know, I think we could’ve been soul mates.”

[noisykate]

Azores to Falmouth - or nearly

The Azores are lovely, and deserve much more than the few days we gave them.  Another time, perhaps.

Horta is the main port of arrival, the marina full of boats which have had big adventures. The social atmosphere is very relaxed; everybody here has ‘been there, done it’ to a significant degree, and the normal tensions arising from watching new arrivals – do they know what they’re doing, can they handle their boat – simply don’t apply.  It is difficult to explain – the nearest I can get is that when you pull in to a service station on the M1, there are no learner drivers. It’s a bit like that. A bit.

It is truly wonderful to get back to sensibly priced groceries, decent bread and cheese, and restaurants which don’t hustle you out at 9pm and expect huge tips regardless of the food, because the staff don’t get paid.

The Azores are volcanic: the centre of this island (Faial) is a huge caldera, which we drove up to in our little hire car, with John and Sue, and Carl. We circumnavigated the island, stopping to walk around the area of the 1950’s eruption, which inundated the old lighthouse and a small whaling village on the western end. Stopping for a great lunch of mussels, which Carl thought he didn’t like – disguised with prodigious amounts of garlic, they were a huge hit. Surprisingly green and rural, the island is charming, cattle everywhere.  The architecture is Portuguese in style, but mitigated with a more subtle use of the highly patterned tiles we saw in the mainland.

We left Horta on Monday – 17th- after waiting for a predicted blow to pass through. It was a bit of a non-event in Horta, but we weren’t the only ones to play it cautious. Stopping at the fuel dock was a bit of a game, with three boats already in place, and a wind sufficient to pop fenders on the inside boat, a crippled French boat with a broken stay – and, it has to be said, rubbish fenders. Still, the weight of three other boats pressing him into the dock under the influence of 20 knots was a bit much. The marina seemed blithely unconcerned; this is clearly quite normal.

We are now 400 miles out, about 1/3 of the way to Falmouth. The weather has been all over the place, with some flat calm, some fog, and now some windy, rolly conditions, with winds gusting up to 30 knots, and seas up to 4m. The boat is behaving very well, the hydrovane (mechanical wind-driven steering system) coping with most of what gets thrown at it, although you have to be ready to take over for the squalls. Thankfully, these mostly lie in wait for Carl’s watch, to the extent that he is the only one who preps for his watch by putting full oilies on.

Sleep deprivation has taken its toll on tempers - mine particularly. Doing 4 hour shifts nominally gives each person two eight-hour periods off-watch, which should be plenty, but when the boat is rolling hard, it is difficult to get to sleep and then stay asleep long enough to clear the deficit. Fitting in communal eating times also cuts into it.

The food has generally worked out ok, if I say so myself. Homemade bread and cakes (all right, the cake was from just-add-an-egg packets) most days, and cooked-from-scratch dinners most days. The Omnia (stovetop oven) has been brilliant, as has the pressure cooker. The boat oven has hardly been used.

Overall, though, I am done with long passage-making. The magical milky-way star-lit nights with phosphoresce sparkling in the wake as we bob along in a gentle breeze are an absolute delight, but sleep deprivation, uncertainties over the weather, and the physical challenge of cooking and doing the normal stuff of life while being thrown about are the norm – glad I’ve done it, but don’t need to do it again.

Really, really looking forward to getting to Falmouth; family and friends, a long list of jobs, and the prospect of some paid work for both of us; me in acoustics, while Mike will be looking for something boat-related. Berthing master at a handy south-coast marina, with a free berth thrown in, would suit. Not holding our breath, but no chance if you don’t ask!

26 June 2019

We’ve turned towards A Coruna, in the face of persistent north-easterly winds, and the threat of a full gale in the Falmouth area a few days ahead. Now making slow but steady progress, hard on the wind. Winds 20-25 knots, occasionally up to 30, from just north of east.

We were getting advice to divert from Falmouth to either (a) a point south of Ireland, then east, or (b) head direct to Camaret (Brittany, near Brest). In the event, neither option was really tenable – (a) put us in the path of a still unknown quantity, which at times threatened to be quite nasty, and (b) simply did not work – we could not make a course which put us anywhere close. All thoroughly fed up, some more than others; Coruna was the nearest available and attainable land. Carl can fly to London from there, and we will regroup and sort ourselves out before continuing home. So very, very ready to be not on the boat for a while.

27 June 2019

Motoring the last few miles into Coruna. Boring. And a slightly anticlimactic end to our Atlantic odyssey. We expect to arrive in the very early morning, perhaps 4am, and will probably anchor until daylight.

28 June 2019

So we got here, eventually.  Marina Coruna, north-west Spain. Tintin got in first, and were anchored just outside the marina when we arrived at about 6am local time. No dramas, apart from the night of no sleep for Mike, as the 50-mile (=10-hour) band around this corner of Spain is very busy with large shipping, and the alarm kept tripping every few minutes, all night. No danger, plenty of warning, but little chance of proper sleep. I got off best, lying down at 11pm, getting up for a few short-lived non-events, then up properly at about 5am to help get in to the marina.

We crawled into the first appropriate berth, had breakfast, and bodged around, all very grumpy and sleep-deprived, until it was time to check in, which -as usual- took ages.

Carl and I set about sorting the inside of the boat; laundry, damp cushions and mattresses, grime everywhere.  Mike got back eventually, and bodged about some more, in a foul mood, before conceding that the problem was lack of sleep. Carl went off on his own to explore, his one-and-only chance to check out this part of Spain, and, with luck, pick up some of the special fids (rope-splicing tools) he had been coveting since Mike showed him ours.

Partly revived by about 3-hours on the saloon sofa, Mike and I had a beer and a light lunch in the marina bar, while the first of several loads of washing did its thing. We bumped into Carl, on his way back to the boat for his passport so he could check in to his flight – he looks pretty dreadful – almost as if he’d had no sleep.

We were delighted to find Barbara and Simon (Cartagena friends) in situ in the marina, and I was able to have a coffee and a catch-up of sorts, promising to make a better go of it sometime in the UK – their boat is destined for a mooring off West Mersea! They fly home tomorrow, having decided that the current (wrong for sailing north) weather is set to last for at least a week. We shall see.

And phoning home, of course – got hold of everybody to some degree or another, only to find that Rachel and David had planned a big surprise arrival party in Falmouth, which we have utterly harpooned by not going there at the appointed hour. So very disappointing, but deeply touched that they wanted to make the effort.

So – we’ve been stuck in the Bahamas, stuck in Puerto Rico, St Thomas, the Azores, and now Spain. So far, Spain is by far and away the most amenable.

1 July 2019

Weather here is cloudy, and it has been quite cold today, with blustery winds from the north. Still no sign of any change in the conditions which would allow us to head out.

Have wasted most of the day watching films on TV, disheartened after finding all my stored-away warm clothes damp and covered in mildew. Some may be revived by a wash, but some are clearly trashed. Nothing valuable, just really, really annoying.

We had a lovely evening with Jacquie and Kevin off Tintin last night; good food, good company, lively conversation.

Intensely frustrated to be here, and not back in the UK – things to do, people to see… spending time each day on weather sites, but still failing to find anything useful.

[bloojayoolie]

Anime, Apparently, and Ass: File: furies ipg (405 KB, 1296x968) 631157670 631165562 >»631166037 Anonymous 07/29/15(Wed)08:18:07 No.631156939 Alright boys, sit down for a tale of the most Autistic kid I have ever had the displeasure of running into Wolfman Greg >Re me >Be 16, around 2000 a popular kid either Kinda did my cwn thing really >Shared World History with this kid >His name was Greg il from arace and into autism >Greg at this point was quiet, and reserved, never did anything to get bullied >Especially after Columbine >Fnday b g to change soon >That Monday >Apparently Greg's parents had bought him a computer, and an Intenet connection sHe hvigusly hadn't showered at all since friday >He didn't really pay attention during class and was mostly drawing in his notebook >His smell was palpable Grea collected his things and headed for the door >Not before he bumped into a guy named Mike kewas hot pleased with Greg's odor >Greg stood silent for a moment >And then he did it Mike iust ushed Grea out of the way and made his way into the hallway and walked to his next class >The rest of the kids gave Greq a strange room for the rest of the day 631160061 631160215 631165562 >631165642 631165921 Anonymous 07/29/15(Wed)08:26:44 No.631158773 File: 1437110427545.ipg (418 KB. 1955x2048) day Appars sinstead he bought a gray hoodie, and some cloth >And sewed some years to the hood >At least he showered this time Greg didn't do his homework the night before >The teac her was this really nice vegan lady from Oregon >She was a little pushy with homework but that was it really ork to be passed up front >She askd theirs >"Greg? Where's your homework? >Silence 3She anproached his desk >The room was stranoely tense, before this Grea was a good student >She was standing at Greg's desk 3She reached out for a niece of paper she assumed was his homework >And then he snapped at her >Not like screaming or yelling, but he he bite her >The teacher gasped >Grea just got up and Naruto ran out of the room hing before and we were really taken aback by him trying to bite the teacher, but the way he ran >No one saw Greg for the rest >Apparently he got on a table, curled up into a ball and tried to nap Indian man in charge didn't care enough to bother him of the day until one of the Stoner kids reported seeing Greq in after school detention Anonymous 07/29/15(Wed)08:35:48 No.631160463 File: 1432672843827 ipg (1.79 MB, 5000x5000) 631160790 >631161301631165562 >Wednesday >Greg apparently wanted to make it up to the teacher euse er rold broke down vcle SOneele >She had what was left of a bug on her cheek that she missed She walked into class ten minutes after class started >She apologized for her being late >Greg walked up to her >Hood up >Shitty cloth ears flopping >She looked at him puzzled ant to tell me Greg? She was probably hoping for an apoloqy >Greg grabbed her face paper in his hand He nad lold And licked her cheek >And the bug quts too Grea then tueked the nanor into her breast pocket and sat back down >The teacher, as a testament to her character, pretended that never happened >The class went on as normal verge of tears the entire time while we were talking about the Boxer Rebellion When the bell rang again, Greg bolted full Naruto style out of the room >His hoodie came loose and fell off hair >Revealing a really shitty attempt at anime >After school as I was walking home I saw our US History teacher talking to the school cop >With her equally vegan and upset boyfriend there too We didn't see Grea for two weeks after that Anonymous 07/29/15(Wed)08:47:48 No.631162869 File: Scared ipg (67 KB, 656x584) 631163694631164020 631164078631164239631165562 Thursday, two weeks after the incident >Grea was back >If you think he was bad after a weekend of early 2000s Internet, Greg has been SCARED He clearly hadn't showered, at all He looked like he slept, ate and shat in the gray eared hoodie He reoked very poorly made tail to the back d >By this time we we The teacher decided to hold class outdoors for once to demonstrate some things >As soon as we got outside, everyone put themselves up wind of Greg Evnthing was coing fine we were discussing the Battle of Somme in the gentle Arizona winter Greg, what are you doing? >All eyes shot to Greg to see what horror we were about to witness with one hand in th He didn't andwor >Everyone turned back to our teacher PAnd then the digging got more ferocious e grounds keepers worked really hard to grow that grass!" >No answer, he kept digging Greg!" tensified Grestop ar Still nothing Mike stood up and started walking towards Greg to stop him had a foot deep hole about square foot wide >Fvervone stonned >Their faces when >Greg tumed around SAnd started to poo >Oh God the stench Evione flinned and oot as far away from him as possible >Greg managed to fill the entire hole up >He then lifted his pants And then buried it >The 9/10 goth girl fainted Greg got sent to the office And was sent home for the day 631164732 631164845631164983 631165088 631165130631165135631165162631165268631165307 Anonymous 07/29/15(Wed)08:56.32 No.631164486 631185639 22631166136 File: XaviOda jpg (19 KB, 320x240) Friday >Greg was tolerable that day, nothing happened The following Monday to class >Like realy late >The poor teacher marked him absent >Half way through the treaty of Versailles quess who showed up >And the horrar >We didn't see it at first, or for the next ten minutes we heard it Acnch >And not the normal granola kind >Like the wet, gross kind iting into a bone would make >The girl in front of Grea turneod around >She flipped her shit Greg what the fuckl" SA half eaten bird >He was late bec ause of this l aleo wotod to throw because he managed to catch a bird, kill it, and partially eat it The teacher approached him and attempted >Greg wasn't having it rescue the poor avian creature from this kid >A had o landed a bite on her >Mike had enough of this shit >Before he could react though Greg through his meal at him >The distraction worked o over a desk >He failed and landed face first on the tile >Luckily he had enough time to get up, spit out some blood and Naruto run out of the room eneheied te wcks of school bec ause of an infection though 31166912631166935631166956 631167039 22631167068 631167080 6311 Anonymous 07/29/15(Wed)09:06:19 No.631166557 ile: 1437626420912.ipg (298 KB, 1024x768) >About a week into our poor teacher's absence >The substitute put us in the computer lab to research some shit: Thanks to her fatness and her odor, she was immune to Greq's smell barrier >Qur schedule was fucked that day >They were having a assembly for 8th graders that would be attending next vear >So we only had our first class that >For eight hours We broke for lunch, nothing weird happened with Greg, yet. Swhen we got back though, shit started happening >Evervone had the post lunch sleepies >Half the class was napping at their terminals was helping the 9/10 aoth gid work on her Horror novel >Wasn't too bad except for some grammar errors >And we were flirting >The substitute fell asleep at some point, leaving Greg free to do as he pleased >And he was really pleasing himself T happened to glance up and catch it >Grea was jacking it pretty hard >He must have just started because no one seems to have noticed yet ou stanng a- OH MY GOD >The aoth gid This in tum drew attention to Greg Who happened to start climaxing >The next five seconds was beautiful the Grea nanicked mid cu >Instead of tuning off the computer a pushed the monitor off the desk p getting cum every the tard wranglers e ended >He was transferred out of regular classes >But this was not the end of Wolfman Greg d)09:19.31 No.,631168892 250x213) 29. File: 14315458 10401 gif (1.5 MB We went a month without Greg shenanigans l even managed to sleep with the goth girl a couple of times outside of class >He didn't speak much, but we nicknamed him "8 Ball 8 Ball didn't take Greg's shit, except for letting him growl or whine once in a while the end of Junior year we thought we had heard the last of Wolfman Greg >None >l unch time l was sitting with the Goth Girl, Marian and her gaggle of dark brooding sisters tables were >We were talking about Poe when it happened >The doors to the tard building burst open was Greg I watch him sprint out, howling >8 Ball no where to be seen en Grea wondered around for a hit before singling out prev This noor shy gid named Marissa >He snuck up behind her >Oh God dher to the table >And pretended to mount her >He had his dick out and was rubbing it on the back Wing like a woll te cattered f her sweater This had to be the final straw >This went on for what felt like forever 8 Ball finaly ehowed un after getting Arby's >Greg was expelled after this and labeled a sex offender >Marissa dropped out >That was the end of Wolfman Grea for high school I have ONE more, this happened six months ago Anonymous 07/29/15(Wed)09.31:26 No.631171137 File: LTXeu.ipg (127 KB, 800x853) Greg was allowed to join our class. Not join me in hitting that sweet pale ass in the back, and n the hood of my old CRX. I can drop that green text if omvone's interoster Six months ago seeing Greg He had left my mind entirelv >Driving through my old town to visit my folks >Then I see it >is that? >No fucking way >Holy shit its Tucking Greg Lom in furkino aw that he's got a sweet scooter and I'm on a second had liter bike >Nearly rear end a taxi >He pulls up next to me sna lcan fucking smell him through my helmet l nearly puke >Manage to distance myself from him and get to my parents place >Decide to meet up with some old friends for a nde >Step outside fucking Vespa in the neiahbor's drive wav >No >lgnore it and go cruise w hours later sVesna still th >Please no >Greg lives next door to my folks now Facebook Grea's folks died and he inherted a large chunk of change >Bought the house next to my parents > Is a complete neet. 1/2 A File: 1427957849766 ong (97 K s 07/29/15(Wed)09:38:56 No.631172339M 460x470) 631171137 anything but browse the Internet probably and do Wolfman things >Try to not let this crush my soul and crawl into my old bunk bed to sleep for the night >As l'm drifting off to the though of making the Goth Girl of yesteryear swallow my cum and calling it st'e furking howling >God dammit Greg >My boner is ruined It's loud too ing howling keeps me up until 3am L finaly fell asleep Wake up the next moming 60 through the day with my folks a shell of my formor self >lt happens aqgain >The terror is replaced with rage no window This is it "Greal It's 11 o'clock at night! I have to >Slam window home tomorrow and I need sleep! SHUT THE FUCK UP" SFall asleep and leave the next moming >A few months later mom calls me The cops entered Greg's home due to a smell complaint >Crea was deod >I inadvertently got him to kill himself ut the bou tom don It's now an empty lot >But I, and hundreds of others still remember Wolfman Greg God speed, vou magnificent. early furry trash bastard. Wolf man Greg

[canadian-buckbeaver]

Venomous Heartbreak

A request/prompt for @cass-dean-assbutts About the difficulties of school, growing up, and heartbreak. Hopefully you enjoy

Eddie’s bike thundered up the road, echoing in the street.  The beast had just had a quick tune-up in the shop and Eddie was happy to have it back.  The fresh paint glistened, and the engine sang.

And well, he wasn’t the only one happy to have it back.

“BETTER THAN UBER,” Venom told him in the back of his mind.  Despite the creature being unable to handle overly loud sounds, it seemed like the motorcycle was one that he made an exception to.  Perhaps because Eddie loved the bike Venom could put up with it? Much like an annoying cat or dog in the relationship.  Or perhaps it reminded Venom of something on his home planet?  Eddie had chosen not pry, instead, he made it a game to see if he could figure it out for himself.  “UBER IS OVERRATED, IS IT NOT?”

Eddie had to chuckle at the alien’s comment.  “We only took an Uber ride twice. And the only reason you don’t like it was because I told you not to eat the last driver.” He commented, shaking his head.

Venom huffed at him, dark slime crawling over Eddie’s arms, helping him stabilize the bike.  “IF THEY ADVERTISE SNACKS, THEY SHOULD HAVE SNACKS.  NOT WATER AND GUM.”

“Oh, believe me, buddy, I made that clear in the review that I left for him. ‘Did not have proper food. Be advised to bring own food if taking Mike’.”

“YOU STILL GAVE HIM A FOUR-STAR REVIEW.” Venom reminded him.

“Hey.  We arrived alive and the water was cold.  I think the food was…” Eddie paused, his eyes catching sight of something in the local playground.  It looked like the teenager from across the hall of his apartment building.  She had been kind, slightly stand-offish as all teenagers are, her long hair always in her face somehow.  The best smile if you could see it.  She reminded Eddie of a settler – kind and sweet, but with hair everywhere.  Now she sat on the swing set by herself, eyes to the ground, hair cascading around her.  As he drove by, he swore that he could see her shoulders shake ever so slightly.  His Investigative Journalist feelers started tingling.  Something was wrong.

“EDDIE?”

“Hold on buddy. I know you’ll be hungry soon but I think we need to do this first.” Eddie told him, turning his motorcycle around. Swinging around in a quick U-turn, he parked his machine in a nearby parking spot.  The girl didn’t look up at the noise.  Instead, she just sat there, the very picture of loneliness.  Her shoulders continued to shake and Eddie could hear the sound of hiccups.  Slowly, as to not startle her with his sudden appearance, Eddie came closer to her.

“Heya.” He finally said, coming up to the other swing.  The girl gasped and jumped, head jerking towards the noise.  Eddie caught the sight of reddened, puffy eyes before the girl hid her face again.

“Oh. Eddie.  I’m… I’m sorry.  I didn’t hear you…” she said.  She looked down at her feet, half-heartedly pushing herself on the swing.  “I just came out here for some alone time.”

“NOT THE WHOLE TRUTH.” Venom told Eddie.  Eddie nodded before he remembered that he was the only one that could hear him.  Sometimes it still surprised him that only he could hear Venom’s voice.  He was as loud as the bike.

“That I understand,” Eddie told her, settling in the swing beside her.  The girl flinched slightly and looked away, trying to hide her eyes.  “Are your mom and dad arguing again?” he asked quietly, trying to get her to open up to him.

She shook her head. “Not as bad as before.  ‘Sides, they are both at work now. Will be for a while.”

Eddie hummed as he rested his head in his hand, looking at her.  He could feel Venom poking around in his head, trying to find something to help.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

There was a pause and the girl stopped moving her swing.  Just for a moment she was completely still, her eyes on the far horizon.  “You…. you wouldn’t understand,” she said.

“Try us,” Eddie told her, giving a soft cough when she looked at him.  Right, she didn’t know about Venom, and he would prefer to keep it like that.  “I was once young too.”

That earned a small giggle from her before she resumed her movements on the swing.  “It’s a lot of things,” she whispered.  “I would understand if you had other things to do.”

“Nope, I got the whole day free. Already put in my eight hours.” Eddie told her.

Venom poked as his mind. “WE HAVE THE WHOLE DAY FREE.” He reminded him.  Eddie mentally waved him away.  Now was not the time.

“Well…” she started out before looking around.  “First, promise me that you won’t tell anyone?”

Eddie nodded. “Of course. Confidentiality of sources is all part of the job.”

“WHAT ABOUT THOSE WHO HAPPEN TO OVERHEAR THE CONVERSATION?”  Mentally Eddie hushed him, assuring that he would be fine.

“Well.  It’s just a lot of things at once.” The girl said. “I graduate soon, have no idea what I want to be or go to school for.  I have no money for college, even with the extra hours that I picked up at my job.  Mom and Dad can’t help me, it’s hard enough to keep a roof over our heads these days. That doesn’t include all the final exams or credits that I need to do.  I’m about three credits short of graduating with my class.  And, everything feels like it is about to change, and I’m not ready for it.”

Eddie nodded, saying nothing but watching her.  This was a technique that he had learned with his shyer or his more withdrawn guests. The more you listened, the more engrossed you were, the more they would speak.  “Is there a way to make up for the lost credits?” he asked her.

“SURELY THE SCHOOL WILL NOT HOLD HER BACK FOR A MERE THREE CREDITS.” Venom said, slightly dumbfounded when Eddie sent him the money sign through their link.  “HUMANS NEVER CEASE TO SURPRISE ME. IS THIS ‘CURRENCY’ TRULY THAT POWERFUL?”

“There is.  A teacher has agreed that, as long as I get within a certain percentage or higher, the school would be able to add on extra credit for me.  I also have a couple extra worksheets that I can do too.”

“That is excellent news.  Many schools would tell you that you had your shot and keep you for another year.” Eddie smiled.  “Kid, do you want my honest opinion on this?” The girl nodded, curious about what he had to say.  “Do both, all that you can do.  That way it gives you a little extra cushion should you not do as well on the test as you think you would have.  Besides, those worksheets would help you study”

“I know, it’s just hard to juggle them and everything else going on at home and with the diner.” She sighed. “Plus, you sound like my mother.”

Venom’s laugh echoed in Eddie’s mind.  “I know. But if it is worth fighting for, you won’t quit.  You’ll keep on trying.” He told her.  “An old friend of mine used to say that goals weren’t the end of something.  In order to keep improving, you had to keep reaching for them and improving.  Once you reached them, you increase the goal.  Keep pushing it back.  Never make it easy on yourself.”

The girl nodded, the sparkle slowly returning to her eyes.  “Eddie?  How did you deal with yourself after Anne left you?” she asked him.

“You moped around your new apartment and drank nothing but beer, went without a full course meal for months, cried yourself to sleep…” Venom listed rather unhelpfully.

“I wouldn’t be the best one to ask.” He admitted.  “I did not take it well, but no one takes the break up the same way.”

“My girlfriend broke up with me,” she said suddenly, tears reforming in her eyes and her shoulders beginning to quake.  “I… I really liked her…”

This time it was Venom who reached out to her.  He wrapped their arm around her shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze.  To his surprise, Eddie found Venom taking control of their mouth.  “I can tell you liked her.  But remember that these things happen for a reason.  It is not always seen right away, but they do. Everything in life teaches you something, a hard lesson or easy, it does not matter.  They make you strong, they make you wise.  It hurts now but remember, one day you will look back and smile at the memories that the two of you had. The smiles and the laughs. What you liked about yourself and what you needed to change to like about yourself. What you liked about her and what you didn’t.  Remember, when one door closes, another opens.  Pain fades with time.”

The girl looked surprised at first, wide eyes still sparkling with tears.  “Heh…. so what did you learn from Anne if I can ask?” she questioned, wiping her eyes.

“Date a woman who will share chocolate, and not have an asshole cat.” Venom said causing the neighbour to laugh.  She wiped her eyes and sighed, looking over the playground.

Eddie took control of their mouth again.  Who knew what else Venom would say if he was given the opportunity?  Better to stop that before he said anything that Eddie would regret.  “I know that this is stuff that you probably already heard, but it is true.  I didn’t have my family to support me, but I had a few dear friends that helped me.”

“It helps Eddie. It really does.” she smiled at him and then looked down at her hands again.  “Thank you.”

“Anytime kid. Just give a knock on the door if you want to talk.” He said, getting up and walking off.

He gave one last wave to the kid as Venom and him revved the motorcycle’s engine and headed for home.  “A FEW DEAR FRIENDS?” Venom asked him as Eddie carefully weaved in between cars and traffic.  “YOU WERE LUCKY THAT YOU HAD ME TO HELP YOU THROUGH YOUR DARK AND LONELY TIME.”

“Hey.  Give me more credit.  I had a few good friends that helped me move on with my life… though you were one of the main catalysts I admit.” Eddie pulled into the narrow alleyway that served as their parking lot of the apartment and turned off the engine.

Venom chuckled, manifesting from the base of Eddie’s neck, the goo forming into the familiar, sharp-toothed symbiote.  “I TOLD YOU BEFORE THAT YOU WERE MINE,” he whispered, giving a gentle bite to the back of Eddie’s neck, “MY RIDE. MY LOSER… COULDN’T HAVE YOU HUNG UP ON SOME EARTHLING.” He nodded towards the door, trying to urge Eddie to move faster. “NOW HURRY. I’M HUNGRY.  THOSE TATER TOTS AND CHOCOLATE ISN’T GOING TO COOK THEMSELVES.”

[echoes-of-realities]

Maybe 19 for Brittana please?

19. “Just breathe, okay?”

[Part One, Two, Three, Four, Five]

Brittany’s been dating Santana for nine months when she catches a break in the flower shop robberies case; it’s been eleven months since she got the case, and she is ecstatic to finally have a lead, and her and Mike grin at each other across their desks as soon as their sergeant drops new files in front of them. Santana’s on the other side of the city right now, staying with her mom for a couple days to help her move into her new townhouse, so Brittany doesn’t mind staying and working late, not like she would mind if Santana was waiting at home for her (they haven’t broached the subject of moving in together yet, but Brittany can’t remember the last time they spent a night apart, and Brittany can’t help but think of Santana’s apartment as being home, even if it’s only in her thoughts). 

Brittany texts Santana and tells her that she’ll be staying late anyways, because she knows that Santana worries about her, and because she misses her already even though they said goodbye just this morning. Santana’s response make her smile and gives her exactly the pick-me-up Brittany needed, and she bounces out of the evidence room with a motivation that had just been starting to die. Mike high fives her as she passes him to drop into her desk across from his, and they start pouring over files with new vigour now that they have a tiny lead.

Brittany goes home around eight in the morning to have a quick shower and change her clothes, and Brittany’s apartment is lonelier than she ever remembers it being; and far more dusty because it’s been a such a long time since she’s spent a night here, and even longer since she’s spent a night alone here. She doesn’t linger, even though she could go for a nap or a cup of coffee before she heads back to the precinct, because it’s so lonely and it just makes her miss Santana more than she ever thought she would.

The string of robberies was a pretty big case when they first got it, but it quickly becomes even bigger than they ever expected in just a couple days, and it quickly becomes even more personal than they ever wanted it to be.

The phone call comes in around two the next afternoon, day three of missing Santana, and for the first time since she met her, Brittany regrets getting so close to Santana because all of this new development in the case is definitely her fault. If she wasn’t assigned the case and if she never met Santana and if she never fell in love with her and if the head of this operation didn’t realize her and Mike were getting close to them and if the perps didn’t realize she is dating Santana then—

Brittany remains professional all throughout the phone call and throughout her sergeant’s sympathetic looks when she reads the report he gives her; she remains professional all the way until she escapes to the evidence room, and then the tears start to spill from her eyes before she even realizes it. The door opens a couple minutes later, and whoever walks in the room remains silent until Brittany’s ready; she knows it’s Mike, because Mike is her partner and he is always there, silent and waiting, for her.

“How am I going to do this?” Brittany finally croaks.

Mike shakes his head wordlessly. “I don’t know, Britt,” he sighs. “You have to go and talk to her, in person. You know you have to question her.”

Brittany tenses. “She didn’t do this,” she snaps, and she’s never felt more angry in her entire life. Her body is heavy and tight and she feels like she’s about to be torn apart; she starts pacing because that’s the only thing she can think to do to get this anger out.

Mike just watches her with steady, patient, knowing eyes. “I know she didn’t. But it’s protocol.”

“Fuck protocol,” Brittany mutters darkly, stopping her pacing. She faces away from Mike and wipes her eyes before she turns to him. “I’m taking myself off the case after this,” she says, and Mike barely even looks surprised; he just smiles faintly as he nods, his dark eyes bright with understanding. “It’s not worth it. It’s not worth her.”

“Hey, I know, Britt,” Mike reassures her, “I know. I’ll come with you, that way I can cover for you, no matter what.”

Brittany breathes deeply and offers Mike a small smile. “Okay,” she whispers, “Thank you.”

Mike gives Brittany a quick hug. “Of course, partner.”

They drive to Santana’s mom’s new place in silence, the radio low and Brittany staring blankly out the windows. They get to the townhouse far quicker than Brittany wants too, and despite the almost forty minute drive, Brittany still has no clue what she’s going to say. Mike waits in the car, and Brittany’s legs grow heavier and heavier with every step she takes up the small townhouse. She knocks on the door, and an older woman with a stern face but kind eyes surrounded by laugh lines opens the door.

“Ms. Lopez,” Brittany greets, and the way that Santana’s mom’s eyes dart down to the badge on her hip and grow tight with defensive concern makes Brittany’s heart sink. This definitely wasn’t how she intended to meet her girlfriend’s mom for the very first time, and despite how heavy her heart is and the situation, she can’t help the tiniest smile that cracks her lips when she realizes that Santana has the exact same dark, deep eyes as her mom. “I’m Detective Pierce,” she introduces, “I’m looking for your daughter.”

Ms. Lopez’s eyes immediately shutter closed with defensiveness in a look so familiar that Brittany’s heart aches. “What’s this about?” she demands.

Brittany tries to stifle her sad sigh, but based on the aching in her heart and how Ms. Lopez’s eyes shift and turn shrewd, she doesn’t quite succeed. “It’s about the shop,” she says, and she can feel the weight of the world heavy on her shoulders, curving them inwards and making her feel small.

Ms. Lopez’s face falls at Brittany’s dejected posture, and she’s calling for her daughter before she even realizes it. Santana appears quickly, and she lights up when she sees Brittany on the porch, and that, more than anything else in this entire, awful day, breaks Brittany’s heart. She’s wearing one of Brittany’s NYPD hoodies, and Brittany knows how the sleeves fall past her fingers so she has rolled them up to her elbows, her eyes are bright and her cheeks are dimpled deep and she’s never looked more beautiful; she’s standing barely three feet from Brittany and Brittany still misses her.

“Britt?” Santana asks in confusion, and Brittany wonders if her eyes look as dull as they feel. Santana’s eyes dart down to her badge like her mom’s did just minutes ago, and the realization that Brittany’s on duty is quickly covered by sudden, bright worry. “What’s going on? Why are you here? On duty?”

Brittany swallows and chews on her bottom lip, her heart already breaking even more. “It’s protocol,” she whispers.

“Britt,” Santana breathes, and she looks like she’s bracing herself for a knock out blow; Brittany suddenly hates herself because she’s the one who has to deliver it.

Brittany shakes her head, and tears spring to her eyes. She looks up at Santana; Santana her girlfriend and her best friend and her family and the only person who gets her all rolled up into one person, Santana the most amazing and hard-working person she knows, Santana with the infinity eyes and the forever smile, Santana who Brittany’s pretty sure she’ll love for the rest of her life and even after. Brittany’s heart breaks and she takes a deep, steadying breath in through her nose.

“I’m really sorry, honey,” she says, and even though it’s breaking protocol she doesn’t care, she doesn’t care because she’s going to have to take herself off this case once she gets back to the precinct, she doesn’t care because her captain will look at her with those understanding eyes and tell her to go spend time with her girlfriend, she doesn’t care because she’s breaking the heart of the girl she promised to love forever even though she swore she never would be the one to hurt her. “There’s been a fire,” she rasps, and Santana’s eyes shatter and her face breaks open. “At the shop,” she clarifies because she has to get through this protocol before she can take herself off the case, “I’m so sorry.”

Ms. Lopez looks between them with wide, anguished eyes, quickly putting two and two together before she fades back into the house; her daughter and Brittany don’t notice, standing there across a threshold and, somehow, Brittany’s never felt so far away. “How bad?” Santana croaks.

Brittany just shakes her head. She hasn’t seen the shop yet, she couldn’t bring herself to without Santana, but the report— The report looked pretty bad. Santana sucks in a breath when Brittany doesn’t say anything and Brittany realizes she’s trembling, but she has to get through this protocol, she has too—

When tears slip down Santana’s cheeks and she slaps a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob Brittany’s only thought is fuck protocol as she instantly steps forward and pulls Santana across the threshold and into her chest. She trusts Mike, both with her life and with her job, and she knows that he’ll never tell a soul about this; and even if he did, she can’t bring herself to care. Santana sobs into her neck and Brittany can do little more than rub soothing circles across Santana’s back and pressing gentling kisses to her head, trying to console the inconsolable. “Just breathe, okay?” Brittany murmurs into Santana’s hair, and she’s never felt more helpless in her entire life. “Just breathe. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” she promises, “Not ever.”

[cupidmarwani-archive]

Accommodation (Pacific Part 3)

During breakfast, the whole crew is reminded of Sonny being inhuman because of the way his teeth sink into the fish, tearing it savagely like the predator he must be beneath the waves. Mike can’t help watching him- not with horror, of course, but rather with interest and curiosity. It can be hard to observe the way predators eat up close, but now he can see the way the design of Sonny’s teeth lend well to raw meat like the fish. He eats like a land animal, however, or perhaps a shark. As opposed to swallowing his fish whole, he takes bites as large as his jaw will allow. Olivia quietly points out that his jaw appears to unhinge for bigger bites, something to examine later on.

Once the meal is over, Sonny is happy to wash his face of the blood in one of the sinks for the comfort of the crew. Not without complaining about the freshwater, of course. He clearly prefers the salinity of the ocean over what normal people can hydrate themselves with. But Sonny is still a gentle addition to the crew, and seems to adore answering any questions the researchers have about his body and his home. More than once, Mike finds himself running gentle fingertips up and down a strip of Sonny’s iridescent scales. Unlike a fish’s, they’re smooth, but unlike a snake’s, they’re perpetually cool. Mike isn’t sure if he’s cold blooded. Most marine life is, but Sonny’s different. He’s special.

“Are there others like you?” Olivia asks at one point, pen poised over her notepad with Alex’s doodles in the margins.

At her question, Sonny ducks his head. “I don’t know. I haven’t- I haven’t met any like me. But my friends are all over, and they’re probably wondering why I didn’t come home. Peter especially. They’re um, I don’t know the human word, they have human bodies on top. But on the bottom, they’re like- they’re not squid. But they’re…”

“Octopus?” Mike fills in, already flipping through his sketches. “Eight tentacles, very smart.”

He finds a drawing of one they encountered off the Australian coast months ago and shows it to Sonny, who nods and strokes the drawing with his fingertips.

“Peter found me when I was a hatchling. I was alone. But he took care of me, and my friends helped. They’re a family, all of them.”

A wistful expression overtakes Sonny’s features, as if remembering the way it felt to be cared for and loved and part of a real family. Mike has never really had that. He doesn’t think about it, though, it’s much easier to just pretend none of it ever happened and everything is just as it should be. Out here, on the vast sea, the problems back home can’t come close to touching him. Here, it’s just himself, his friends, and an entire world of underwater creatures who have yet to be discovered by mankind.

“He’s looking for me, I’ll bet. He gets worried. Like in New York, he was scared, and he’s the one who helped- he found me. And we came home. Then everything was okay, and I didn’t have to be scared because he was there.”

“Do you want to go home?” Mike asks.

“No. Home always finds me,” Sonny replies sagely, and begins playing with the spool of fishing line attached to the deck. It looks wrong, wrapping around his webbed fingers, but he makes a point of shredding into little pieces too short to cause any harm. It must be part of his hatred for fishing gear, which gives Mike the idea that the men in New York who hurt him were probably fishermen. “Probably soon. I wanna stay here.”

“You’re always welcome to,” Olivia says, “just know that when we dock, you’ll probably have to stay in the water.”

Sonny nods and entertains himself further with the spool, entertaining himself with it between questions and gentle examinations until it gets too dark to see well. They could go inside, but it’s late anyhow. Mike and the crew have their dinner while Sonny catches and eats his in the water before asking to be brought back up.

He has a scrape along the side of the side of one arm, looking deep and jagged as it drips blood gone liquidy from the water. Melinda rushes to get a bandage while Nick starts trying to wipe up the mess with his shirt, only to hiss and jump back. His skin is already starting to blister from the contact. No one knows quite what to do, and they’re all worried, but Sonny is just standing there as Melinda carefully winds the bandage around his wound, careful not to touch it.

“Didn’t you draw blood?” Nick asks incredulously, cradling his hand close to his chest. “How did this not happen?”

“Mike and I didn’t come into direct contact with it, and my analysis has only been studying the cells, so far. It was a small sample. I can try to learn what I can about the chemical composition. But from now on, as a general rule, don’t touch his blood until we know more.”

Sonny shifts back uneasily, watching them all with a mixture of confusion and fright.

“And be careful of his spit, too, he’s venomous,” Mike adds in a soft tone.

“We didn’t collect a saliva sample.”

He shrugs. “I know, but he brought his fish on board this morning, and when he dropped it at first, the bite on that thing was not normal. I’m willing to bet he has venom.”

While the researchers all ponder this, Sonny runs his tongue over his sharp teeth self-consciously and seems to wilt as he avoids looking at them now. Mike feels bad, but he knows he had to say it. There are no words to provide comfort; at least, not ones he can think of off the top of his head right now. But Nick is still gritting his teeth in clear pain as Olivia guides him back to the cabins to run the chemical burn under cool water in hopes of soothing him.

“Would it be okay to take a sample, Sonny?”

For a moment, Sonny just stares at Melinda and nods. He’s very clearly unhappy with all of this. Mike tries to approach him, but Sonny turns away and watches the ocean. When Mike looks too, he sees a flash of something large beneath the water, moving too fast for him to identify.

[gaypasta]

7th times the charm

Bill recounts his first seven kisses, it only took him that long before he found who he was looking for in a mess of curls and a kiss to his palm. Read on Ao3

I     Beverly

Beverly was Bill’s first kiss. They were in third grade. The stage lights danced across Bill’s vision the same way that Bev’s fiery hair danced when she laughed - she laughed a lot. The entire school and his own parents were watching, his heart was in his throat as he stuttered out the lines. The words got caught in his throat, the lights were taunting him while the audience merged into a uniform sea look of pity and forced grins.

His Peter Pan costume was hanging off his shoulders - it was much too big. Even to this day, Bill still remembers the trailing of his pants along the floor, the conscious thoughts of the movement of his feet to avoid tripping. Anxious butterflies fluttered around his stomach in a way that Bill wouldn’t feel again for several years, the knot that built up in his throat and the quickening heartbeat were all signs and Bill knew.

He was in love.

He was in love with Beverly Marsh, the girl who sat two desks away from him. She bought him a Christmas card and wrote a smiley face in a glittery lilac pen. She twirled her hair and chewed her pencils, she came into school late and forgot her homework and she was perfect.

Bill, of course, wasn’t actually in love - we don’t have to let him know that.

This kiss - the ending scene - was the most important thing in little Bill’s life. To his parents, the teachers and over an ocean of faceless people, this was just a show. Oh no, but to Bill - he knew better - he knew this was going to be how he met his wife, they would get married on the playground, just like Robert McNeill and Kathy Gates.

He messed up his last line in anticipation of the kiss, and just then, with a soft smile and a flurry of freckles - Bill Denbrough had his first kiss.

Nerves, Faces, Freckles.

II     Eddie

For the year after kissing a young eleven-year-old Eddie Kaspbrak, Bill would flush in embarrassment and change the subject as swiftly as possible. He was embarrassed, guilty and felt ever so moronic.

The locker room lights flickered, giving Bill a headache and almost sending him into a different changing room. However, the wheezes of a broken cough flickered even louder than the light to Bill - and Bill being Bill, he rushed into the showers in his muddy shoes and his lacrosse stick whipping the wall tiles like a drum.

Bill doesn’t remember much, he remembers Eddie curled up in the corner of the shower. He remembers that he was wheezing and tears were cascading down his face with the same pull as jumping off a cliff into an icy ocean. He remembers Eddie’s bright red, neatly ironed gym shorts and his pale legs quivering.

He was scared, his friend couldn’t breathe and he didn’t know what to do. He knew of Eddie’s aspirator, the medicine helped him breathe, but for some reason, it wasn’t working. Eddie kept shaking it furiously at Bill’s face - but Bill didn’t know what that meant. Eddie was crying, long raspy sobs that echoed against the greying ceramic tiles and the speckled white flooring. The dirt from the crevices of the tiles groaned under the pressure from Bill’s fingernails as Bill did all he could think to do in that moment of panic.

Bill did as he saw on the soap operas his Mother watched on TV and pressed his lips roughly against Eddie’s. Eddie stilled for a moment, before shoving Bill away - sending him sprawling into the shower stall opposite. Bill, in the moment, was unfazed and promptly returned to an even more flustered Eddie and soothed his back, rubbing it in gentle motions.

After the moment, however - Bill and Eddie were both mortified and made an unspoken agreement to never bring it up again. Except Eddie had told Richie, and for the year after, Bill stomach twisted in embarrassment and his face lit up the same colour as Eddie’s perfectly ironed gym shorts. For the remainder of the days that he remembered the kiss, however, Bill and Eddie would laugh.

Bill would laugh at how he truly believed the best way to cure a panic attack was a kiss. Eddie laughed at how Bill thought that Eddie would appreciate the exchange of germs. Everyone else laughed with them.

Panic, Comfort, Embarrassment.

III     Ben

Bill never counted this as his third kiss. He hadn’t thought about it after the moment it happened - well that’s a lie, he thinks about it every time he has an oral presentation but the memory is nothing but fond. It doesn’t bring the nervous butterflies of his first, or the panic and mortification of his second. It makes him smile, makes him feel at ease and makes him feel like he can conquer the world (with the aid of his friends, of course).

It was spring of seventh grade - Bill remembers this because it was the last spring he attended the annual Derry carnival in May. It was the last spring he had before he would wake up with nightmares, or see yellow flashes of colour in the corner of his eye. Bill found it difficult to appreciate the newborn lambs and calves that roamed the fields West of Derry, but Ben tried his best to help everyone find the light again - and he appreciated Ben.

He appreciated Ben even more when Ben offered to be his partner for his oral presentation. Normally Bill would sit back and watch everyone’s eyes dart to him, before scrambling to find anyone else. But not Ben, never Ben. The presentation wasn’t more than three minutes long, but practising it took every chocolate-fuelled lunch period, every warm pink sky of the evening, every star-littered night, and even well into the ominous blanket of midnight.

Antiduh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-

It’s okay Bill, try again.

Antiduh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-

It’s okay, I’m sure you’ll get it.

And get it Bill did. It took hours upon hours - Bill’s throat was raw from reading, he could feel the scratch in his throat and no amount of icy water would cure it. With every breath, his throat felt like it was on fire.

But, he did it. On the evening of Thursday, May 4th - Bill Denbrough spoke for one-point-five solid minutes, without a single stutter.

And that concludes our study on…. (breathe) …. Antidisestablishmentarianism

He remembers Ben cheering loudly, he remembers dropping his papers on the floor - because his teacher scolded him for crinkly papers the following day - he remembers an overwhelming rush of joy and, in the joy and triumph of it all, he grabbed Ben’s cheeks and landed a wet, firm kiss on his mouth.

Ben laughed and cheered, not even doubting Bill’s impulse for a moment, and standing there, in his cluttered bedroom at eight twenty-four in the evening, Bill would remember the burning of his throat as the fire of determination.

Triumph, Patience, Persistence.

IV      Richie

Bill doesn’t remember the events which lead up to this kiss. He knows it involved lots of lukewarm beer and a bottle of Grey Goose vodka that Richie stole from his parents, Eddie had told him not to, because he was only turning sixteen - not twenty one. He remembers the start of the night, where all he smelled inside Stan’s house (his parents weren’t at home, he can’t quite recall why) was cigarette smoke and soft cotton. Richie was soon told off by Stan for smoking, Stan was cross, Bill remembers that. Then Richie kept giving Bill beer, and Bill had no reason to decline. Then Richie started shots, or a drinking game - Bill doesn’t remember.

He remembers a burning in his throat, but not the burn of triumph, a burn that stung like bleach and hurt so good that he couldn’t help himself to stop. The next thing he remembers is Richie’s mouth on his throat. They weren’t at Stan’s anymore - they were in a car. Stan’s car. He remembers the wet and heavy air, feeling like he was inhaling density itself.

There was a fire in his stomach and on his cheeks, and his mouth fought with Richie’s for what felt like hours. This kiss wasn’t innocent or a symbol of a youth, this kiss was wet and hot. Oh, so very hot. Bill could hardly breathe with Richie on his mouth, forcing his mouth open and licking up his tongue, back down, underneath his tongue, the roof of his mouth, behind his teeth - Bill doesn’t remember if he fought back or if he was too busy trying to claw through his drunken haze to deduce whether grinding back on Richie would be a good idea or not.

He concluded it felt too good to not be good. He remembers Richie’s hands exploring his body in a way he had never felt before, fingers tracing his chest and his back and rolling his nipples. Bill remembers liking that.  Richie’s mouth doing dirty, painful things to his neck and leaving blisters of purple bruises from his earlobe to his collarbone. He found one on his inner thigh and he couldn’t remember if Richie had put it there or not.

He doesn’t remember taking off his pants, but he remembers Richie’s hands travelling down them - he doesn’t remember much of Richie. Bill reckons that he must’ve had his eyes closed most of the time. He remembers Richie saying dirty things that made him moan and whimper, he remembers begging and holding tightly onto Richie’s shirt when he comes.

It was there, in the back of Stan’s car, with Richie lying on top of him, grinding down on him and whispering dirty things into his ear with a breath of vodka, that Bill realized, only the next day, that he might not have been completely straight.

Blurriness, Heavy, Regret.

V        Mike

Mike was the one Bill went to, not even a week after his heavy hour with Richie, for help. Help which Bill needed so desperately that he had cried, wept openly on the edge of the river, tears so heavy with confusion that Bill wished he would melt into the river and float away. Mike sat with him, not speaking, just staring off into the trees, waiting for Bill to be ready. Bill thought he might never be ready.

He was exaggerating, of course he would be ready, but much like how he had thought that kissing Beverly Marsh eight years ago would be the most important moment of his life, he truly believed that having an alcohol-fuelled moment with Richie Tozier would ruin his life.

It didn’t, of course - but Bill would not yet know this, so instead, he wept until his eyes hurt and his flannel shirt was covered in snot and tears. Mike’s shirt was too - but he didn’t mention it.

He wept, fearlessly - his words cried out of his mouth and spilt into the water and floated away as Mike sat and listened. Taking in every word, listening to Bill’s heavy stutter of concerns. Bill wept about wanting Richie in that car, the way boys weren’t meant to want their best friends. Bill wept about liking, no, loving the way Richie made him feel, and the horrible, dirty things he said, he cried about feeling dirty, feeling foolish for getting that drunk.

But above all else, Bill cried, in this cool winter’s afternoon - with the low sun casting long shadows of the squirrels scuttling up the trees, and the soft wind carrying songbirds’ poems down the river like a boat - about losing a friend. Losing a friend to testosterone and Grey Goose fuelled deviance.

Mike listened, squeezing Bill’s shoulders when he felt Bill’s shoulders begin to shake again. Mike’s firm hand on Bill’s shoulder made him feel grounded, like Mike was the weight that kept him from floating out of existence.

Mike had told him that his friendship with Richie would never be ruined, even after something as risque as what he had done. Bill disagreed, wanting the winter sun to go so low that it ate the world up in darkness. The flannel on his shirt made him feel like a bullseye - ten points to whatever tragedy in his life could make his world fall apart around him. Richie’s arrow of backseat handjobs had struck him in the heart, and Richie not picking up his phone for a week had been the final arrow to shatter him.

Mike tried to assure him, no, you’re our friend. Nothing like that could change that.

I don’t buh-buh believe that.

Mike’s arm fell from Bill’s shoulder and firmly found its place on Bill’s hand.

I can prove it, but you might not like it.

And before Bill even had a chance to dispute, Mike had leaned in, giving Bill the softest kiss his lips would probably ever feel. Mike thought that Bill might shatter under his lips, but he didn’t. Their lips slowly, carefully and almost anxiously moved against each other. The feeling of Mike’s lips grazing against his own felt like an angelic encounter, like his soul was lifted and his mind was dusted of his miserable thoughts.

The kiss eventually stopped, and Bill and Mike stared off into the orange ripples of the river, the sun casting it aglow like the book of revelations. Bill had his own revelation, that he and Richie would probably be fine, just like Bill and everyone else were fine.

Bill was right, he and Richie were back to normal not two days later. Bill and Mike were different, however, warmer and more peaceful with each other, as if the kiss that Mike had shared had transferred a part of their soul into each other, forever binding them in a blissful existence.

Connective, Blissful, Serene.

VI     Stan

Bill would never forget his first (of many) kisses with Stan Uris. It was the first time he had forgot all about that dreadful summer in four years.

It was a long time coming, admittedly. It took neither of them by surprise. They were walking along the river, no real destination in sight. The moon was high in the sky, watching their fingers brushing together as they walked, bathing Stan’s soft features in a stream of moonlight.

This is how it had been for a couple of months, since Christmas - Bill and Stan took afternoon walks to the store together, then to the quarry, then along the river and slowly as the days went on, the sun got lower when they decided to slip on their walking shoes. Now, it was almost midnight. There was no feeling of dread, no whispers from behind their ears and definitely no flashes of yellow. It was just them, the way it had to be.

Bill could’ve kissed Stan by now, and Stan would’ve accepted it - kissed back. But it never felt like it was the right moment, and Stan felt like the most important thing in the universe, not like the Peter Pan play or like Richie’s vodka breath on his neck - but like once he had begun to look at Stan, really look - he couldn’t imagine a world without him. And if one were to exist, Bill most definitely would not want to be a part of it.

Stan wasn’t just his… lover? Boyfriend? Date? No, he was so much more than Bill, who had the highest grade in English in the forty years of records in his school, could put into words. There are over 170,000 words in the dictionary, and not one of the billions upon billions of configurations of those words could even begin to describe how important Stan was to Bill. That’s why Bill never gave Stan a nickname, all of them felt like they were insults in comparison to Stan.

The wind ruffled Stan’s hair in a way that he hated, but Bill adored. It made his curls bounce and twist around his face and fall into his eyes. Stan’s perfectly ironed white shirt almost glowed in the reflection of the river, Bill watched the ripples lap at Stan’s reflection, he could’ve stared at it all night if Stan would have let him. But alas, Stan marched onwards, looking back at Bill.

Follow me.

And Bill followed. Stan could have led him to the end of the Earth and back and Bill would walk, in his dirty converse, with him. Stan wrapped his hand around Bill’s, their fingers intertwining as easy as blinking, and they ran.

They ran and ran the whole way to the quarry, red-faced and puffing clouds of air into the cold night. Bill laughed at Stan’s grimace as he noticed a grass stain on his white shoes. Stan shoved Bill’s shoulder, and Bill couldn’t be happier.

So there they sat, overlooking the expanse of the water below them, holding hands and knocking feet softly against another.

Stan looked at him as though he were scared that if he didn’t look every couple of seconds, that Bill would disappear, every time he did, Bill would grin and Stan would look away, trying to hide a small smile.

It was then, when Stan brought Bill’s palm up to his mouth and gave it a gentle, but mindful kiss, that Bill knew.

I love you so fucking much.

Stan laughed, not mockingly - the laugh was warm - not warm like Mike or warm like the vodka or any of that - it was warm like Stan . It sounded so right and Stan muttered it back, with a smile present in his voice.

I love you too.

With the moon watching them, casting rays down to make Stan’s lips shine and his eyes sparkle with joy, Bill cupped Stan’s face, faintly feeling the scars under his skin, and kissed him there and then.

The same place they grew up, their go-to spot from when they were in third grade. In a way, it was almost like destiny, like this place was destined to be the centre of all Bill’s life. And Bill wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

Stan’s lips moved with his, softly and with care - but not because they were afraid one of them would break, but because they didn’t need to rush. They had no reason to be firm or fast or rough. That would come, of course, but not tonight. Not on this cold February night. Bill’s thumb softly stroked Stan’s cheek as Stan’s tongue grazed his lip, before retreating.

Stan’s tongue knocked against Bill’s lips half a dozen more times before Bill took the hint, letting Stan’s tongue enter his mouth. It wasn’t hot, heavy exploration - it was gentle, their tongues licking at each other - Bill could feel Stan smile into his mouth, it made him smile too. Their tongues retreated, and Bill gave Stan a chaste kiss, which made Stan grin.

Bill hadn’t seen Stan this happy in a long time. But now he was, right here, right now - and Bill supposes that’s all that matters. They stayed under the stars for a while longer, before retreating back home. Stan suggested Bill stay over - Bill agreed, they shared a knowing look. They didn’t want to be apart again, they’re in this together.

Bill lay, sleeping beside his… boyfriend. Yes, that sounds right this time. Wondering what he did to deserve such a wonderful boy to be his, wondering what he had done to let the moon and the stars bless him on this night. The answer, of course, was nothing. The moon, nor the stars had nothing to do with the two boys falling for each other. They were just a part of the lucky few who had fell in love with their best friend - and stayed that way.

Bill knew that with that kiss, he had sold his soul. He watched the gentle breathing motion of Stan’s chest as he slept and thought, I don’t think I want it back.

Home.

[strangerererthings]

peaches ix

Summary: What if Bob had an adopted daughter?  What happens now?

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Disclaimer: I don’t own the show or the characters, surprise, surprise!

Author’s Note: So much angst.  Also, I believe there’s going to be one more chapter after this and then an epilogue.

Warnings: Abuse, Blood.  It’s all under the cut.

Word Count: 1,871

part one/part two/part three/part four/part five/part six/part seven/part eight/part ten/part eleven/epilogue

It happened on Thanksgiving.

The few days before the holiday had been spent in a blur of the Party, helping Joyce and Hopper cook, and Billy.  Always Billy.  He’d randomly appear while you were in the kitchen, wrapping his arms around your waist and trying to distract you from the turkey you were marinating.  He’d whisper sweet things in your ear before suddenly tickling you, leading you to squirt marinade all over him.  He had just laughed and pulled you to him, getting it all over you as well.

But then came Thanksgiving.  It was nearing 8:30 PM, which is the time that everyone was supposed to be there by.  Joyce and Jonathan were already there, with Nancy in tow.  Dustin, Will, Mike, Lucas, and Max were all there.  They had even convinced Steve to come along.

But there was no Billy.

You watched the door anxiously, biting your lip.  He had told you he would most likely be there early as long as he could get away with it.  With the way his grades had been raising, he’d been in the clear a little bit more often than not.  He had been there a lot during your lessons with El, and somehow it ended up with you helping him as well.

“Y/N?” Hopper called, and you glanced back at him.  He smiled, clearly trying to calm you down.  “I’m sure he’s fine.  He’s probably just running late with family things.”

You nodded, but turned back to the window, unconvinced.  Steve watched you quietly.  He had already given Billy the shovel talk, and while they didn’t get along perfectly, they managed to be civil and even have a friendly conversation every once in a while.  It was unavoidable if you were going to be in both of their lives.

You scowled even more as you looked at the clock.  8:43 PM.  Billy had never been late in the entirety of the time you two had been together.  If he even thought he might be, he would call you on the home phone or the record store phone and more often than not, he was no more than thirty seconds late.

The only time he had ever missed anything was that night at the record shop when his dad...

You turned and practically ran into the kitchen, holding out your hand.  “Hopper, I need the keys.”  He looked at you in shock, and opened his mouth to say something before you cut him off.  “Hopper, something’s wrong.  I can feel it.”  You swallowed as you tried to hold back your tears, and Hopper slowly placed the keys in your hand.

You were already practically out the door as soon as the keys were in your hand, almost missing Hopper calling out after you.  “Don’t do anything stupid.”

You threw open the door to Hopper’s car, jamming the keys into the ignition and peeling out of there.  Your hands were trembling the entire drive over to the Hargrove’s.  You made a left onto Cherry, where they lived off of.  They were almost at the very end of the street.  You parked by the mailbox, quickly getting out before you stopped to look at the house in front of you.  All the lights were on except Max’s.  When there would usually be the sound of rock playing from Billy’s radio, there was silence.

There was almost an ominous feeling about it as you ran up to the front door.  You could hear shouting inside that silenced as soon as you knocked.  There were heavy footsteps before the door flung itself open.  An older man that you recognized as Neil Hargrove was standing in front of you.  “What do you want?” He almost growled, a sneer on his lips.

“Is Billy here?”  Your voice cracked slightly, and you cursed yourself.

Your eyes wandered down to Neil’s hands which were covered with blood.  “No, he’s not home.  Probably off fucking some whore.”

You looked back up at him slowly, before pushing past him and running into the house.  “Billy?!  Billy, where are you?!”  You began to throw open doors, your heart pounding.

Suddenly, you felt the back of your sweater being grabbed and you yelped as you were thrown backwards to the ground.  Your head hit the side table and you groaned, looking up with terrified eyes as you realized Neil Hargrove was coming towards you.  You could see the murder in his eyes as he gripped your hair in his hands.  You let out a blood curdling scream as he kicked you in the side, wrenching your head sideways as he did so.  He was shouting things like little slut, whore, bitch, and even cunt.  Everything sounded fuzzy.  Like you were underwater.

“Y/N!”

You managed to turn your head a bit to see Billy in the doorway.  Before you could see his physical wellbeing, he was on Neil, tackling him to the ground.  Fists were flying and you laid there, tears streaming down your cheeks.  God.  Everything fucking hurt.  “B-Billy...,” you choked out.

The front door suddenly burst open.  Hopper was standing there in the doorway with three other policeman.  You felt a wave of relief crash over you as he went to Billy, catching his shoulder.  The boy was holding his father down to the floor by his neck, tears streaming from his eyes.  “Billy, let go, alright?”  Hopper’s voice was gentle, but firm.  Two of the policemen began to search the rest of the house while the one left kept his gun trained on Neil.  “I suggest you don’t move, sir,” Hopper snapped as he got Billy to slowly get up.

As soon as he was away from Neil, Billy turned and ran to you.  He pulled you onto his lap, cradling you like a baby.  “I’m so sorry.  So sorry, baby.”  He was sobbing over you as you clutched onto him, crying as well.  “You shouldn’t have come here.  It’s my fault you were hurt...”  He pulled back, running his hands over your face.  “Where does it hurt?  What all happened?”

You shook your head, checking on him instead.  He had several cuts on his face and bruises were forming around both of his eyes.  Blood was trickling from his busted lip.  “Baby...”  You kissed him gently, the taste of blood lingering on your lips as you pulled away.  “I had to come.  I could feel it.  Something was wrong.”

He shook his head, laughing as he pulled you to him tightly.  “My little idiot.”  He continued to hold you flush against him as Neil was put in handcuffs and put into the back of a police car.  “What would I do without you?”

The sound of someone clearing their throat broke the two of you from your reverie.  Hopper was standing there a bit awkwardly.  “So, I know we have a bunch of paperwork to fill out, but it’s Thanksgiving.”  He held out his hands for the two of you to take.  “Let’s get you two home.”

Billy looked at you, kissing your forehead before the two of you stood.  You and Billy climbed into his Camaro while Hopper took back his police car.  There was a comfortable, relieved, but exhausted silence in the car as you took the winding roads back to Hopper’s.  Billy’s hand clutched onto yours, kissing your fingertips every few minutes.

You walked into the cabin together, everyone jumping up and running to you in a panic.  They were all shouting and reaching and you instinctively hid behind Billy a bit.

“Give ‘em some space,” Joyce shouted, and all of them immediately backed off.  What Joyce wanted, Joyce got.  Partially because they were all scared of her.

Once they were all off of you guys, you took Billy’s hand and led him to the bathroom, shutting the door.  Everyone stayed silent as they watched the two of you go.  You sat him on the toilet, noticing how he winced anytime he moved.  You wet a wash rag, wringing it out a little before gently touching it to his forehead.  He did his best not to react anytime you touched one of his many, many injuries.  “I could feel that something was wrong,” you murmured, concentrating on cleaning his busted lip.  “My skin felt like it was crawling.”  You laughed a bit as you continued, your other hand cupping his cheek gently.  “I knew it was stupid to run in there shouting for you, but I couldn’t stop myself.”

“I love you.”

You froze as you looked at him, not sure if you heard him right.

He looked you dead in the eyes though, his hand moving to cup your cheek as he repeated with complete sincerity.  “I love you, Y/N.”

Your mouth dropped open a bit, your heart racing in your chest.  “I love you, too.”  He pulled you down into a kiss, sitting you on his lap.  He then pulled away, giggling a bit.  “Do you still have a drawer of my clothes?”

“Like I’ve gotten rid of it since yesterday,” you teased as you stood up.  You fixed your hair a bit, wincing as you felt the tenderness from where you had hit the table.

The both of you left the bathroom, Billy going to your room to change and you going to the kitchen.  “There’s our little fighter,” Steve joked as you rolled your eyes, your cheeks going pink.

“I’m hardly a fighter.”  You took a seat next to El, ruffling her curls as you did.

She looked at you with narrowed eyes.  “You got hurt.”  You sighed, biting your lip as she shook her head.  “We’re not stupid, Y/N.”

Hopper burst into laughter, nodding as he stabbed a piece of turkey with his fork.  “She’s right.  We’re not stupid, Y/N.  Maybe you should learn.”

“Sometimes stupid is smart.”  You pointed the serving spoon for the mashed potatoes at Hopper.  “You should know about that.”

“Did you at least kick him in the balls?!” Dustin suddenly blurted.  Him and other boys’ eyes were lit up in excitement.

“No, she didn’t.  But that doesn’t make her any less of a fighter.”  You turned to see Billy in the doorway, leaning against the frame.  He had changed out of his bloodstained shirt into a fresh blue one, the top buttons almost completely done up for once.  He walked over, sitting between you and Max, pressing a kiss to your forehead.  You couldn’t help but notice that he limped anytime he walked.  You scowled, making a note to ask him about it as Max hugged him around the side.

“I’m glad you’re not dead.”  Her voice was muffled, but his laugh was booming and warm.

“Me, too, kiddo.”  He ruffled her hair before everyone began to dig into their food once more.  As you spooned mashed potatoes onto his plate for him, he caught your eye, mouthing “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you mouthed back.

[planetsam]

Just wanted to say I love love love your writing. It's excellent! I have a prompt if you dont mind? basically its a few weeks after the snowball and elle still has super bad seperation anxiety from mike. In a typical teenage boy fashion he disappears for a week and totally forgets to tell her what he's doing. There's no phones to call her. He's camping for a school trip. Elle FREAKS. when hes finally back she doesnt know whether to cry in relief or kill him

The second the bus pulls up, he realizes his mistake.

His mother is there beaming, thrilled at his first camping trip but his eyes go past her to the tree line. He knows what he saw. He realizes exactly what he did wrong. Now as she fawns over him, he just wants to drop his bag and go apologize. Profusely. Preferably before the chief of police shows up to remind him that that is his daughter and Mike has a reputation as a troublemaker now. Also that he hit him. Jim Hopper is sore about that when he needs to be.

“So, Mikey—“

“I gotta go over to Will’s house,” he blurts out, “I’ll see you at home.”

Despite the fact that Will and Mrs. Byers have just gotten to the car, he runs after them. They both look at him and it shows on his face because Will snorts and Mrs. Byers looks torn between sympathy and exasperation for him. He just feels lower than dirt. He talks to her every night, he mentioned this months ago, they’re still hammering out how far she can reach—in the end he knows he should have said something. Mrs. Byers waves at his mom and jerks her head, he dives into the car.

“She’s over there,” he says motioning to the trees.

“I’ll double back,” Mrs. Byers says.

When she does he dives out of the car, taking off through them. It’s supposed to be a year, a year and then she can come to school properly. Be seen properly. But until that year is up there are rules, rules they have both agreed to. Rule that he’s making her break a lot of because he was an idiot. He runs as fast as he can and skids to a stop when he sees her standing there. She’s looking out at the bus but he’s not fooled for a second. And not just because he’s given zero thought to stealth in this. Nope, he knows for sure when she gives him a look reserved for Mouth Breathers and turns on her heel.

“El, wait!” he pleads and heads for her, “I forgot,” there’s a press of invisible wall, “come on El, I’m sorry,” he begs and the wall vanishes as she continues to walk, “I didn’t know it wasn’t going to work. I—“ he sighs, “I should have told you.”

“You. Promised,” she says whirling suddenly and jamming a finger into his chest, “you promised every night. And it’s been six hundred and four thousand eight hundred seconds. I thought you were hurt.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats as she rips her finger away from his chest, spinning on her heel and walking away. He jogs after her, “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“Worry,” she repeats and then scoffs.

El’s gotten better with speaking, a lot better. But when she’s upset or mad she retreats back into the single words. Fewer words means less chance of getting punished. That’s still how she functions sometimes. Most of the time. Around him and the guys, she does it too when she’s really comfortable. Though Hopper’s been after them to try and make her talk more. Help her get more comfortable that way.

“Yes, worry,” he says, “you were worried about me, that’s why you’re upset.”

“Not upset,” she says with a glare, “angry.”

“You use your powers when you’re angry,” he says, promptly sticking his foot in his mouth. The look she gives him is pure venom, “I mean i know you’re not supposed to but you broke the board the last time we played checkers.”

“I can be angry and not use my powers,” she mutters, folding her arms over her chest.

“I don’t mind when you use them,” he assures her quickly, “I think they’re awesome.”

She looks down and then looks back up at him.

“You cheated,” she accuses and he shakes his head.

“No, I forgot to explain a rule. That’s not the same thing.”

He’s way out of his league on this, somewhere in the back of his head he knows it. Max and Lucas have already broken up, Will says that Steve and Nancy will probably get back together if Steve doesn’t start going out with the new girl. He hears the adults around them say this is puppy love. That they’re still ‘just kids’. And yeah, they are. That’s the excuse everyone used when he was acting out last year anyway. But if he wants to be with her, he knows he has to step it up. And he knows he can. It’s just going to take more from him. But it’s worth it, he knows that too. Knows that above anything else. He watches her shift her weight, chewing on her lip and then looking at him.

“I’m scared,” she says finally, “of school.”

He frowns.

“Why?” he asks.

“Mouth Breather—“ she stops, “I’m scared of bullies. Bullies and math.”

“Me too,” he says, “but you knew how many seconds were in a week. You’re good at math,” he explains, “plus you’ve got your dad, no-one wants to be in trouble with him.”

“You hit him,” she reminds him and he feels his face go hot.

“I was upset,” he says, “but we shouldn’t hit people when we’re upset. Plus you hit a lot harder than I do.”

“He said you could hit well,” El confides in him and Mike grins, “but what if I do bad things?”

“You’re a teenager. If you didn’t mess up you wouldn’t be. Lucas gets grounded every other week,” he says.

“What’s grounded?”

“Uh, it’s like what you’re doing right now. But it’s usually because you messed up—which you didn’t do. I did.”

A firm hand claps on his shoulder and suddenly he wishes for her to use her powers on him again. El squeaks and he doesn’t need to turn around to know exactly whose behind him. He might as well just offer to kill himself with the man’s hat at this rate.

“Glad to hear you say that,” Jim Hopper rumbles, “especially after the week I’ve had of listening to someone whose not supposed to be outside talk about running after you.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats emphatically, “I messed up.”

Hopper looks at him like he’s the one with abilities. Like he can see into his soul. Lucas called it ‘dad powers’ and even though is father’s not exactly what you’d call intimidating, there’s a reason Nancy does her best not to bring any boys around. A small hand threads through his and gives his fingers a tight squeeze.

“I messed up too,” El says, “we messed up together.”

“God dammit,” Hopper pinches his nose. The three of them are silent and looking at each other for a moment, “home,” he says pointing. El tightens her fingers on Mike, “go home,” Hopper repeats.

“What are you going to do, ground me?” El demands and Hopper stares before looking at Mike.

“Don’t tempt me,” he says and then sighs, “okay, stay. Listen to this,” he turns back to Mike, “I was a teenage boy once. I know what teenage boys are like. Are you like that?”

“N-no,” Mike sputters out before he squares his shoulders, “but I acted like one today. It won’t happen again. Sir.”

Hopper glares at him, then he looks at El. El’s fingers tighten on his, her thumb rubbing his knuckle.

“You forgive him?” she nods.

“Yes,” she corrects.

He looks at Mike.

“Next time you mess up, you gonna be here with a damn good apology?” Mike nods instantly, silently vowing that there won’t be a next time. Hopper looks down at their clenched hands and sighs, “as you were,” he says, motioning them back.

El drags him away from her adopted father and Mike hurries to keep up. He can practically feel Hopper watching them. It’s not nearly as nice a sensation as when El does it. Only when they’re a good distance away does her hand turn from tight to gentle, though it remains very firmly wound around his. It would be like they were any other couple in school if they weren’t so deep in the woods. But he knows instinctively that this is a privilege and that being like anyone else is vastly overrated. They go back to the cabin El’s called home for the past year and a half. It still floors him that she’s so close, that she’s been so close the entire time.

“Mike?” he realizes that his fingers have tightened on hers and forces his hand to relax, smiles at her, “are you okay?” she asks and he nods.

“Yeah, I’m just glad you’re here now,” he says, “and I’m excited to have you be at school with us.”

She dips her head and looks oddly shy for a moment. Then she takes a step forward, presses her hands to his shoulders, stands on her toes and kisses him. It’s the first time she’s started it, the first time she’s been the one to kiss him. He’s stunned and it takes him a moment to kiss back. El kisses with her whole heart like she doesn’t know any other way to do it. His hands shyly find her waist as he ducks his head to accommodate their growing height difference. Before meeting her he would have said kissing was gross. Now he’s not sure he ever wants to stop kissing her. When she pulls back, El beams up at him, looking thrilled with herself. It’s the kind of smile you can’t help but return.

“I’m excited too,” she announces and he can only nod, “see you Monday.”