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marlynnofmany · 1 year ago

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Shore Leave

I didn’t think I was homesick until I caught the unexpected sound of a toddler’s wild laughter from the spaceship bridge. Out in the hall, I whipped around to stick my head through the door with some very unprofessional curiosity. That hadn’t been an alien noise.

Up on screen was our new client who the captain was negotiating with, and also the client’s young daughter. She’d apparently come into Daddy’s room to show the nice aliens on the video call her favorite noisemaker.

“Okay honey, they think it’s great. Go on back to—” the patient father was interrupted by an electronic fart sound on high volume, and even louder peals of laughter from his child. “I’m sorry,” he said to the captain as he scooped up the wiggly youngster and carried her out of frame.

Captain Sunlight waited patiently, every inch the dignified yellow lizard alien who wasn’t about to let someone’s gleeful offspring ruffle her calm.

The human came back, minus the child but with a new food smear on the shoulder of his crisp uniform shirt. Nobody told him. The conversation resumed with nary a giggle, and with me waiting in the hall.

“…By that timeframe or sooner,” Captain Sunlight concluded. “We can’t have your colony going without the comforts of home for long! Farewell.” She held her position as Wio flicked a button with one blue-ringed tentacle, and the screen clicked off.

“I volunteer,” I said.

A lesser captain might have twitched, but she probably knew I was there. “That saves me the trouble of finding you to ask,” she said smoothly, turning her chair. “It’s a big delivery, with multiple cases, so we’ll get a couple others to go along too.”

“Sure, sure,” I said. “I’m sure they’ll love to visit a human colony.”

“Though we won’t need too much lifting power,” she continued, “Because it’s a lower-gravity world.”

“Yay!” I said with an honest grin. “That’s even better.”

***

Getting the shipment down the ramp was surprisingly difficult, because the hoversled was calibrated for the artificial gravity inside our ship. Even with Mimi clinging to the control panel as it passed the barrier, the dang thing bounced.

I leaped to pull it down; Paint shrieked and leapt out of the way; Zhee yelled at both of us; Mimi cranked the controls and overcorrected, almost crushing my feet. I leapt back next to Paint, who had already stumbled in the low gravity and fallen on orange sand that was actually a decent match for her scales. I managed not to land on top of her.

“Got it,” Mimi grumbled in that rough voice that always seemed out of place on a guy who looked like an octopus the color of mint chip ice cream. He scrambled off the back of the sled. “Don’t touch the controls until you get back.”

“Understood,” Zhee said, clicking forward to follow the sled. He made the best exit of all of us, only springing upward a little. All those legs probably helped. Bug aliens weren’t known for tripping over their own feet — something that Zhee was insufferably smug about, and something that I would never let him live down if it actually happened. Not today, though.

The minor excitement had made it obvious that the air on this low-grav world was indeed as thin as the scans had said, and there was no point in toughing it out until we got indoors. The three of us got our feet under us and put on the vaguely-uncomfortable breathing masks, then began maneuvering the sled as a team. Really Zhee was doing all of the work while Paint and I held onto the sides and calibrated our own relationships with gravity, but we could pretend. And the long walk across the landing pad gave me a chance to take in the sights.

The landing pad itself was pretty boring; a couple silver-gray ships on one side and a wide stone building on the other. No sign of our contact yet, but the instructions had been to meet at the sun-shelter. So that’s where we went. At a hoppity-bouncy pace that probably would have looked very silly to any local humans if they were out to see us yet.

As we got closer to the big sun-shelter, I could better appreciate the way its shape seemed built to funnel cool air in and warm air out. Also the view off the cliff. I got a good look at that too, over the edges of the flat hilltop that the landing pad covered.

My first impression was: weird desert. Sandy hillsides in reds and oranges, with a sun that was just above those hills, and already hot. A bunch of alien trees scattered around that looked like they wanted to be cacti. They were almost familiar, as if they’d been designed by someone who only had third-hand descriptions of Earth plants to work with.

The low gravity let them get wild in ways that would collapse back home. The tallest ones spread up into the sky in cylinders that bent and quested out in every direction like curious snakes, but at a vast scale. Others spiraled straight up like unicorn horns, or twisted together like lumpy brains the size of a house, or feathered out like thick fan blades with fractal patterns. A couple were probably star-shaped if you cut a cross section, and the sides reached out to make dividers that were probably handy to hide behind in a sandstorm.

I was so busy looking at the cactus trees and trying to decide if they had spines or not that I was surprised when the hoversled stopped. We’d reached the shelter.

Zhee rapped on the door with his pincher arm. It was stone too, and would have hurt my knuckles.

Where is everybody? I thought, looking around at the sun-bright area. It sure is getting hot out.

The door slid wide to the welcome sight of another human, who immediately ushered us inside.

“Come come, bring it in!” she said, waving both hands and bounding aside. Her skin was dark and her clothes were drapey, and she seemed to consider the matter urgent. Given how much the top of my head was starting to cook, I didn’t blame her.

The door wasn’t big enough for the sled. So we unloaded it through the doorway, as quickly as possible, with me sliding close to the human and Zhee standing on the sled and Paint standing behind it to push boxes forward and comment that the extreme heat was kind of nice, actually.

But even she, coldblooded though she was, had to admit that shade was nicer by the time we got everything unloaded. She helped turn the hoversled on its side at the recommendation of the human, who still hadn’t introduced herself. Flipping it around was weirdly easy in the low-grav. Once we got even the sled inside the room — very spacious, that — the human closed the door and greeted us properly.

Yes, she was the contact we were supposed to meet. Taeya, how-do-you-do. Yes, the weather here did get shockingly hot quickly. No, it wouldn’t be pleasant to go back out into that, even for the short jaunt to the ship. Did we have to rush off, or was there time for a cooling beverage or two?

“There is!” I told her. “The captain said we have two hours of wiggle room in our schedule — usually there’s more, but we have some urgent deliveries — anyway, two hours, three tops, because she wanted to, uh, ‘give me time among my own herd.’” I made finger quotes.

Taeya beamed. “Then let me give you a tour! This stuff will keep; the people coming to unpack it won’t need any help from me. C’mon downstairs.”

“Downstairs?” I asked.

She hopped behind the boxes and disappeared, waving a hand to follow. “Downstairs!”

With a glance at the others, I moved forward and floated down the red stone stairs, one hopping step at a time.

And there I found civilization.

Stairs led to streets and storefronts and vast, cavernous halls, all carved out of the rock. It was built mostly around the edges of the mesa from what I could tell, a curving, circular city with lots of air flow that left the central core solid and untouched. It didn’t quite feel like home to me, but it was so impressive that I didn’t mind.

Every boulevard had high ceilings, and even high benches, out of the way of foot traffic. Most of the surfaces were either painted or carved. And everywhere I looked, humans bounced instead of walking — which did look silly no matter how they approached it.

With the drapey, flowing, colorful clothes that everyone wore, it all looked like a society of cheerful wizards. I laughed behind my breathing mask, then asked Taeya if she thought I could take it off. She wasn’t wearing one, but then her lungs were used to thin air.

“Oh yes, I should have said,” she told me with a wave of gold-and-red sleeves. “We have oxygen generators lower down, to keep things comfortable. Along with the top-notch medical suites for keeping an eye on any low-grav degradation. Offworlders tend to ask about that.” She had a distinct twinkle in her eye as she said it.

“How handy,” I said.

Zhee peered judgmentally at the lightfooted humans. “Is that how you handle muscle atrophy? With medical adjustments?”

“Partly,” Taeya said.

“Mushers!” Paint exclaimed at the same time, pointing.

I turned, looking for sled dogs and thinking back to the time Paint had gotten to ride a hoversled while I pulled. I saw no dogs now, but a cluster of rickshaws pulled by people huffing like suburban joggers. They didn’t bounce, weighted down as they were. And their passengers looked like workout buddies urging them on until they got their own turns.

“Partly things like that,” Taeya finished smoothly.

I removed my breathing mask, eyeing a nearby restaurant and a closer flower display, then took a deep lungful of body odor and broke up laughing. When the nearest passersby had moved on, hopefully toward showers, I explained to my nonhuman crewmates that sometimes our own natural smell was unpleasant to us, with insufficient hygiene. Surely I’d told them that before.

“Right, you did,” Zhee said. “I still say it’s a deeply maladaptive trait.”

“I won’t argue with you on that count,” I told him, trying to fan the air casually.

Thankfully the rest of the crowd sported a more pleasant range of scents, and we hopped on down the road.

Taeya had something else to show us before nightfall.

“Nightfall?” I asked with some concern. “We’ve only got two hours, less now. Probably closer to one.”

Taeya responded by making a sharp turn toward a row of window slits, just a few inches wide by several times my height. Outside, the sun was already getting low.

“Oh,” I said eloquently.

“It’s the perfect time to see the flitters come out,” Taeya said with another hand wave. “Come on.”

More bouncing steps, another beautiful hallway full of murals, and another curving stairway down. Then we were, surprisingly, outside.

A sprawling garden of alien succulents covered the ground, with low burrows that I noticed moments before brilliantly-colored creatures began scampering out of them. These took to the sky in flashes of movement, flitting about as the name suggested, for all the world like tiny flying carpets that had been ferrets once.

Paint wanted to know if they bit. Zhee asked if they were food. I shook my head while Taeya told them both no. They were a lovely sight, and that’s all they needed to be. Plus they ate some local pests. Always a bonus.

The air was getting chilly already, to my surprise. Taeya did something deft with her clothes, pinning the drapey bits in a way that looked suddenly much warmer, with all that cloth wrapped around her.

“If you were staying longer, I’d suggest you get a local outfit,” she told me.

I nodded. “If I was staying longer, I’d take you up on that. Looks like a good design.” Clever and foreign, in a way that looked like several familiar things at once while managing to be none of them. And certainly nothing I’d ever worn.

Staring up at the whirling flitters as the light left the sky, I felt oddly sad. So much of this was halfway familiar, not the whole-hearted taste of home that I’d hoped for. But before I could get too maudlin, Taeya waved us back toward the carved-out city.

“C’mon, back into the good air,” she said. “One last thing before we get you back up to your ship.”

I hopped quietly after her. Zhee muttered about the theoretical taste of flitter meat while Paint made stiff-legged lizard hops out of the nighttime chill.

We were only a little ways down this new hallway before I heard music.

I bounded faster.

The great hall that Taeya led us into was lined with people around the edges, standing in rows and sitting on ledges, their voices echoing as they sang toward the center. I spotted instruments at some of the higher seats. People at the bottom swayed in time.

I didn’t know the words. But I knew the sound. A crowd of humans singing together; it was a glorious thing.

This is what I’ve been missing, I thought, breathing deeply. The air here smelled like flowers and spices and laundry detergent, and it was full of the sound of home. A vast roomful of people singing the same song, voices rebounding off the walls and bodies moving in joy.

I glanced back at Zhee and Paint. They both looked a little baffled. I asked over the music, “Do your people do much singing?”

“A bit? I guess?” Paint said. “But not all together like this.”

Zhee shook his head. “Why would you use your voice for music?” he asked. “How barbaric.”

I laughed and turned to Taeya, who was happy to teach me the words. There was even a bit of dancing with the next song, and that was an adventure in low gravity. So was the next. Zhee and Paint patiently observed from the doorway.

Then when one song ended, and a fast drumbeat paved the way for the next, I was surprised to see a number of people vacate the dance floor. I started to do the same, ready to say something about getting to the ship on time.

I didn’t realize that Taeya had left until she returned. She appeared at my elbow with two padded helmets and a smile.

“We’ve moved on to quick-beat time!” she told me over the rising music. “Does your captain need you back right now, or can you stay long enough to try a low-grav mosh pit?”

Our two hours were up and I knew it. I looked to Zhee and Paint, who were close enough to hear the conversation. Paint was sitting on one of the head-height benches. She looked down at Zhee.

He turned his head away, which meant nothing with his range of vision. He harrumphed. “Don’t break anything the medsystem can’t fix.”

“I’ll do my best!” I told him with a grin as I accepted a helmet. “Besides, I hear they have good ones here.”

Surrounded by a mix of old and new, I joined my people in the time-honored tradition of dancing more far vigorously than common sense dictated. The captain had said three hours tops.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come!

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #colony worlds #writeblr #science fiction #humans are space orcs #low gravity

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krizaland · 10 days ago

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The Reluctant Master.

A fic based on @emelinstriker ‘s ESAU

I’ll admit I originally deleted this fic due to some misconceptions I had about the AU.

However after looking deeper into the AU I realized I was wrong.

I apologize for any negativity or animosity I may have shown towards this AU in the past.

I see now that it’s actually quite charming and if I’m being honest, quite a comfort for me.

So I’m reuploadong this fic!

However, since I’ve revamped my LMK sona, I had to update this fic a bit.

So there’s new info in it now!

Be warned: there is self loathing ahead

With all that out of the way, On to the fic!

“I’m sorry, I’m your what?”

Stella’s face twisted into a mix of shock and confusion as she starred down at the two monkeys bowing before her.

Stella was no stranger to the bizarre and unexpected.

After all, in a world where she could use a onesie to turn into an axolotl and demons roamed the streets and whatnot, Stella was prepared for everything.

Or at least that’s what she thought.

She wasn’t prepared for two handsome monkeys to be standing in her room; kneeling before her and calling her ‘master’!

“Master! You’re our master! I’m so glad we’ve found you again!” Macaque chirped, not getting up.

“Woah! Woah! Hold up-” -Stella held up her hands defensively- “-Found me again? We literally just met! I’m sorry but I think you might have me confused for someone else.”

“No. You’re our master. Your face may have changed but your soul is the same.” Wukong insisted, his emotionless voice had a slight twinge of joy woven in.

“What?” Was all Stella could say.

“You’re our master. Your face may have changed but your soul is the-”

“No no. I heard what you said, I’m just having trouble processing it.” Stella corrected.

“That’s ok, master! You probably don’t remember your past life! But we can answer any questions you have!” Macaque explained eagerly.

Stella rubbed the back of her head sheepishly.

“Umm…Thanks? I guess my biggest question right now is, who are you two?”

“I am Macaque, your purple champion!” Macaque then gestured to Wukong “And this is Wukong, your blue champion!”

“At your service, master.” Wukong added.

“Champions huh? So are you guys like knights or something?” Stella asked.

“We are so much more than knights, master! We are your eternal servants! We exist to serve you!” Macaque explained, barely able to contain his excitement.

“Servants?”

Stella’s look of confusion morphed into a grimace.

Clearly her former life must have been some form of royalty or nobility but her current self was just a mere selkie.

She knew all too well of what it felt like to be someone’s prisoner.

The mere thought of someone being forced to serve her made her sick to her stomach!

Those poor monkeys! No one should be forced into servitude!

Especially not for someone like her.

“You guys don’t need to serve me. Look, maybe my past life was royalty or something but I’m just an average joe now. I mean ok I can turn into an axolotl but other than that I’m pretty much average .” Stella rambled.

Both monkeys stared at her in confusion.

Stella let out a nervous chuckle.

“Look my point is, no one should be forced to serve anyone. You two deserve to be free to make your own choices.”

Macaque looked like he was slapped in the face!

Even Wukong’s emotionless face seemed a bit shaken.

“You…You don’t want us to serve you?” Macaque whimpered, tears forming in his eyes.

“No! No! No! That’s not what I meant at all! I meant you guys shouldn’t have to be forced do anything you don’t want to do!” Stella yelped as she waved her hands in front of her face.

“But, master! We want to serve you! We need to serve you! Please give us a chance! I promise we’ll do whatever it takes to please you!” Macaque pleaded desperately.

The sound of Macaque’s cries broke Stella’s heart!

“Ok! Ok! You guys can serve me!”

Macaque’s face lit up.

“Oh thank you for giving us a chance, master! I promise you won’t regret it!” Macaque cheered as he kissed Stella’s hand.

Wukong let out a sigh of relief and put a hand on his chest.

“Now c’mon! Let’s head back to the palace!” Macaque insisted as he rose to his feet.

“Palace? Eh. You know what? I’m not gonna keep questioning these things. Just let me grab my onesie first.” Stella shrugged as she grabbed it from her closet.

Wukong tilted his head in confusion.

“Your onesie?”

“Yep. I need it so I can go into my axolotl form.” Stella explained as she showed off the onesie.

Macaque’s practically sparkled as he let out an excited squeal.

“THAT ONESIE IS THE CUTEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN! OH MASTER I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU WEAR IT!”

Wukong nodded in agreement as a faint blush dusted his cheeks.

“Aww! Thank you! But this onesie is more than just a cute outfit. It allows me to turn into my axolotl form.” Stella giggled.

“Yes. You have mentioned that. Can you tell us more?” Wukong asked gently.

“Ok soo I’m what’s called a selkie! Selkies use special costumes to turn themselves into animals. The most common ones are seal selkies. However I’m special. You see we axolotl selkies are extremely rare because we’re pretty much an endangered species.” Stella explained as she gestured to herself.

“Endangered species?!” The monkeys exclaimed in unison.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Macaque yelped as a panicked look crossed his face.

Even Wukong’s stoic face seemed worried.

Stella took in a deep breath and looked down at her feet.

“You see pretty much most of my kind had been well…hunted so to speak. We axolotl selkies have healing powers. We can even help regenerate limbs in a pinch. Because of that, let’s just say humans got way too greedy. But don’t worry! No one really knows I’m a Selkie, well except you guys of course.” Stella explained sheepishly.

Wukong’s face darkened while Macaque let out a low growl.

“Worry not, master! We won’t allow anyone to harm you! We’ll slaughter any fool who dares to try!” Macaque declared as he took Stella’s hand.

“Woah! Woah! Slaughter? That’s a bit much. But I appreciate the gesture.” Stella chuckled nervously.

“Master, if one seeks to hunt you then we shall do whatever it takes to protect you.” Wukong stated firmly.

Wukong’s stern nature left no room for argument.

“Oh-Kay then. Well! Let’s go to that palace!” Stella chirped in an attempt to change the subject.

“As you wish, master!”

And with that, Stella let Macaque and Wukong take her to the palace.

It wasn’t long before the two monkeys brought Stella to a lavish palace.

Wukong opened the massive doors and gestured for Stella to enter.

The moment Stella set foot inside her jaw dropped.

She felt like she had just stepped into a fairytale!

Stunning lattice windows decorated the warm brown walls and the ceiling was a rainbow of extravagant tiles!

In the center of the room was a luxurious golden throne, framed by Ruby red pillars, expensive vases, golden statues, and various carvings written in an unknown language.

“Holy shit! Is this palace really mine?” Stella spluttered as she stared in awe.

“It always has been, master! It’s been awaiting your return!” Macaque chirped as he led Stella to the throne.

Stella looked at the luxurious throne anxiously.

There was no way someone like her was worthy of such luxury.

“Does this throne displease you, master? We can get you a new one if you’d like-”

“Oh no! This throne is beautiful! It’s just…I can’t believe it’s mine that’s all.” Stella admitted as she carefully sat down .

“Of course it’s yours, master! Everything in this palace belongs to you!” Macaque chuckled as he spread out his arms.

“I know it’s just…”

Stella let out a sigh and looked down at her lap.

“I don’t deserve any of this…”

“What are you talking about? Of course you deserve this! You deserve the whole world!” Macaque insisted as he knelt before her.

“Aww, aren’t you sweet?” Stella smiled.

Macaque’s face flushed as his tail begun to wag rapidly.

“Are you ok?” Stella giggled as she watched his tail wag.

“I couldn’t be better, master!!” Macaque squealed, his void black eyes twinkling.

“Oh good! I’m so glad you’re alright-”

“Forgive me for interrupting, master but I have finished checking the perimeter for threats. We’re all clear.” Wukong announced as he knelt before Stella.

“Thank you, Wukong. I appreciate that.” Stella chuckled nervously.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, master?” Wukong asked monotonously.

“Or perhaps something I could do for you, master?” Macaque asked, his tail still wagging.

Stella felt her stomach churn as the two monkeys stared at her expectantly.

As much as she didn’t want to boss them around, she didn’t want to make them sad again.

It was then, Stella had an idea.

“Well, besides serving me, what’s something that you boys enjoy?”

Wukong tilted his head in confusion.

“Wha-”

“Headpats!” Macaque squeaked excitedly.

“Headpats? Sounds good to me-” Stella turned to Wukong- “-Would you like some Headpats as well?”

“Yes please.” A small smile tugged at Wukong’s lips.

“Oki doki loki! Headpats coming up!”

And with that, Stella got up and gently patted Macaque’s head.

Macaque’s tail was wagging so fast it practically blurred.

First praise now Headpats?! Macaque was in heaven!

Unfortunately, Macaque’s moment of bliss had to come to an end as Stella turned her attention to Wukong.

“Alrighty! Your turn!”

Stella begun to gently pat Wukong’s head.

His tail showed little movement and his face remained unchanged.

“Am I doing it right?” Stella asked nervously.

“Yes. You are doing it right.” Wukong replied, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

“Oh good! I was worried for a second there!” Stella giggled.

“Do not worry about me, master. I’m very happy right now.” Wukong responded, his voice still monotone.

“That’s great! Glad to hear it! You know, both of you boys are really soft.” Stella noted as she kept patting.

“Thank you, master!” Both Monkeys replied in unison.

Stella stopped patting Wukong’s head and looked over at Macaque.

Despite his smile, it was evident he was a little bit jealous of the attention Wukong was getting.

Stella hummed before snapping her fingers.

“Hey, Macaque. Would you mind standing next to Wukong, please?”

“Yes master!”

Macaque quickly scurried next to Wukong.

“Perfect!”

In that moment, Stella pulled both monkeys into a group hug.

“Now I can give both of you some love!”

Both monkeys’ faces burned pink as they returned the hug.

Despite not being too keen on having servants, Stella found herself growing fond of the two monkeys.

“Maybe this whole ‘master’ thing won’t be so bad.”

#lego monkie kid #ESAU #self insert

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chlobliviate · 4 months ago

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Wolfstar Microfics - Grief/Mourning

Words: 993

@wolfstarmicrofic

***

Sirius arrived at Remus’ cottage yesterday on Dumbledore's orders. It wasn’t that Remus minded, but a heads up would have been preferable to a bedraggled, but grinning Sirius just appearing at his door at 11 pm.

He made them both tea, and some toast for Sirius, and they sat on Remus’ worn sofa staring at each other for a few minutes.

“Would you like a bath?” Remus asked eventually.

“Is that your polite Moony way of telling me I smell?” Sirius laughed. “I’d love a bath, actually. Can’t remember the last time I had a bath.”

Remus nodded and took his tea into the bathroom to start running a bath. Sirius lingered in the doorway, sipping his own tea from his favourite mug. Remus had felt silly for keeping it but now, seeing it in his hands again, he was grateful to his ridiculous brain for forbidding him from throwing it away.

“Can’t believe you kept this,” Sirius said quietly. “Thank you.” Remus just smiled at him, “So. I’m assuming that Dumbledore didn’t warn you that I’d be here?”

“He didn’t,” Remus added bubbles to the bath, to Sirius’ delight. “But I’m glad you’re here. We have a lot of catching up to do.” Sirius smiled at him as he tested the temperature of the water. “I think this is done. Towels are on the rail. Do you need—”

“Would you stay in here with me?” Sirius’ gaze was fixed on the cup in his hands. “Please?”

Remus nodded, “Of course. Whatever you need.”

He looked away as Sirius shed his clothes and slid into the steaming water. He continued looking away as Sirius groaned blissfully before sitting on the floor with his back against the tub.

“You cut your hair.” Sirius said, “It’s nice.”

“Thanks. Uh, do you want some help with yours?” Remus asked, “I have conditioner. It wouldn’t be too hard to detangle, I’m sure.”

“You don’t think I should just cut it all off?” Sirius sounded surprised.

“Well, do you want to cut it all off?”

“No,” He said in a small voice, “But I convinced myself that was the only way of salvaging it. It’s pretty bad. There are no hairbrushes in Azkaban, but I think being Padfoot helped.”

“We’ll figure it out.” He turned his head slightly to smile at Sirius.

“Thanks, Moons.” Remus thought his heart might stop hearing Sirius call him ‘Moons’ again, but he schooled his features and took a couple of deep breaths. “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He rested his head on the edge of the tub. “You want me to put some music on? I have all our old records.”

“Of course you do.” Sirius chuckled, “Oh, shit. I bet I’ve missed so much. How many new Queen albums are there?”

And it was at that moment that Remus’ heart broke. Sirius, he realised, had no idea that his idol was dead. He really had missed so much. It had only been a few years since Freddie Mercury’s death, but it still devastated Remus when he thought of the end of his life or listened to The Show Must Go On. So he tried not to.

“There were a few in the 80s,” Remus said, guardedly.

“But nothing new?” Sirius swirled his hands under the hot water and smiled at the sensation. Then he paused and looked up at Remus. “Please don’t tell me they split up.”

Remus shook his head but knew his eyes were about to spill over and give him away. “Worse, sorry.”

Sirius stilled, “Tell me.”

“In the 80s, there was this illness that mostly affected queer people, queer men especially. AIDS. It’s not a death sentence anymore, but it was then. It was terrifying. So many of us died, Pads. Freddie died. A few years ago. It was awful.” He inhaled sharply, “I’m so sorry.”

He looked up at Sirius and saw his face frozen in a look of pure anguish. A single tear rolled down his right cheek as a sob choked out from his chest. “No.” He whispered, “No.”

Remus turned around, no longer caring about seeing Sirius’ body. He reached out a hand to wipe the tear away and Sirius grasped it in his own. Remus sat on the side of the bath and pulled Sirius into his chest, wet clothes be damned. Sirius sobbed as Remus held him, stroked his matted hair, and rubbed his back.

“I’m sorry,” Remus said again. “Queen and Bowie released a single together, days after you went to Azkaban*. It felt like the cruellest thing in the universe on top of everything else. There’s a lot you haven’t heard. We can listen when you’re ready. I didn’t even think about…”

They stayed like that until the bath water was cold, Sirius bordering on catatonic, nodding as Remus told him about songs and albums that he’d love. Sirius wondered what the point was. Everyone was dead or dying, Voldemort was back, and he had no way of protecting Harry, or Remus. He closed his eyes as Remus gently washed his hair with warm water and did his best to detangle the knots. He stared vacantly at the ceiling of Remus’ bedroom for hours and listened to Remus breathe.

After a few hours, he got up and headed for the record player. He rifled through Remus’ records until one caught his eye, with cartoon versions of the band on the front, ‘A Kind of Magic’. He scanned the tracklist and found himself drawn to side 2. He slipped it onto the turntable, dropping the needle onto the vinyl, a very familiar crackle that made him smile tentatively as he turned the volume down.

As soon as the vocals started There’s no time for us, There's no place for us, Sirius found himself crying again. Within seconds Remus’ arms were around him and he held on tight. He wasn’t sure which of them started swaying gently first.

Who waits forever anyway?

***

* this is my villain origin story.

#fanfic #ao3 #wolfstar #fanfiction #remus lupin #sirius black #remus x sirius #wolfstar microfic #marauders #remus loves sirius #lie low at lupin's #sirius loves remus #sirius x remus #angst

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morganski-19 · 8 months ago

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I Don't Know Which Way's Home

Chapter 15: Visitors

ao3 link, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14

cw: minor descriptions of violence/physicall assault

Present Day, March 1987

“When are you going to move in,” Sarah asks over the phone.

“Next week, I think. I should get the keys in a few days and then we’ll take some time to get some basic furniture. Then we should be all good.”

Steve was excited for the move. Excited to get out of this house to something he owns. Something he can make his own. A place where he can walk through the door and see himself on the walls. In the furniture. Where it feels like home.

Not just a large house where most of the lights are never on. Suffocating anyone who lives in it.

It’ll be an adjustment. But he’s willing to do it. Ready to do it. He’s been stuck in the same loop for so long, he ready to break it.

“Any word from your parents?”

Steve still feels bad about that. If things went the way he wanted them to, Julie would never have to endure his parents. Over the phone or in person. Knowing her, she’d probably want to sit behind him in court. She’d see them there. But wouldn’t be dealing with him. That’s his job, not hers. Not anyone’s.

He’s been dealing with his parents for his entire life. He’s used to it. Knows how to shut up and say the right things just so the issue is dropped. Most of the time. Sometimes he fights back. Stands up for himself. Just to get knocked back down to the lowest peg possible. But he tries.

Now, it’s a totally different ballgame. They can’t knock him down again, not really. He’s stronger than he was back then. Older. More mature. Has a sense of his own self worth and how it doesn’t revolve around their opinions. They never cared enough to stay, why should he care about their words.

“Uh yeah. They got the papers, last I heard from the courthouse is that they got the response letter. It wasn’t pretty.”

“Well, that was to be expected. Anything else?”

Steve hesitates. “Yeah, um. I sort of got kicked out.”

“What?”

“Yeah, my dad said he wanted me gone. That if I thought I was going to get anything from them anymore I was wrong and can’t keep living here rent free. But they haven’t, like, sent a cop or anything to make sure I’m gone. So, it’s fine. I’m handling it.”

“That’s only because you have an in with the Chief, Steve,” Sarah says sternly. He can picture the frustration on her face. “When did they tell you this?”

“Two weeks ago.”

Sarah swears under her breath. “You’re cutting it close here, Steve.”

“I know,” he says before she can continue. “I know I am. But we’re so close to getting out. Most of our stuff is out of the house except for essentials, and I have people on standby incase they come home. I’m not going into this blind. I know how they are.”

“The minute they show up, the minute that this backup plan gets put into place, you call me immediately.”

Steve knows that Sarah’s just planning for the worst possible outcome. That it’s better to plan for things that might never happen than to scramble for a solution. He doesn’t want to think of the worst. Deep down, there’s a strong feeling that it’s actually going to happen.

Because he does know them. He knows how they will want to fight. They don’t want to do it at all. Threats have gotten them out of trouble before, it shouldn’t be any different now. Only Steve wasn’t giving up. Giving in. He separated himself from them enough that their words don’t mean shit anymore.

At least that’s how he’ll act. In court, he’ll tell the judge the truth, not caring what their going to say as a rebuttal. The way they’ll tear him down as much as they can. It won’t affect him then, but Steve has no way of knowing how it will affect him behind closed doors.

Despite everything, someone deep inside him craves for their approval. Their attention. That person has been getting satisfaction knowing that he’s getting it somehow. The same person that threw large parties just to get the cops called. Just to see if they would show up again. Give him a phone call. Steve wants to ignore that part of him, but it’s there.

That same part of him will probably cry when this is all over. Knowing that his parents are done with him forever. That they think the worst of him. Their opinion shouldn’t matter. It still does sometimes.

“I promise I will,” Steve assures.

“Good.” Sarah hangs up without another word.

Steve’s relationship with his parents has always been complicated. He knew that. Everyone knew that. There was a small hope that if he just acted right, did all the right things, the relationship would become less complicated. Less strained. He’d be their son the way other sons were. Not just a trophy to sit on a shelf, but something more. It never became that, no matter how hard he tried.

So he stopped trying, and look where he is now.

. . .

Julie was putting her plate in the sink when a car pulled into the driveway. Steve’s head turned to the door, wondering who it is. He never does that. People come and go here all the time, normally Eddie since he has a car. Robin if she gets him to pick her up on the way.

But Steve never turns his head when it’s them. Like he has some sort of sixth sense when it comes to random people showing up at his door. Always knowing who it is before he sees them. This is different.

Still, Julie doesn’t pay much thought on it. It’s probably just one of them. Or maybe one of the kids had their parents drive them over. It’s nothing.

Until they hear the garage door start to open. No one ever uses the garage.

Steve’s body tightens. Standing straighter that he normally does. He abandons his dish in the sink, walking toward the door leading to the garage. On attention. Waiting for something to pounce.

She’s never seen him like this before.

When he returns to the kitchen, there’s a frightened look in his eye. One that immediately makers her heart start to pound faster. It can’t be that bad. What can scare him into looking like this? Spine tied up with a string. Stance ready to start running. Afraid. He’s so afraid.

His mouth opens to say something as a car door slams. A rage filled voice traveling across the house. Enough that she can place who’s it is, even after only hearing it once. Steve’s fear matches in her eyes.

“Steve, who’s here?” Her voice waivers.

Without saying a word, Steve gently grabs her arm and brings her to the sliding door. “You can’t be here right now. They can’t know you’re here.”

“Steve,” she asks again.

He slides the door open, the evening air making her shiver. “The Byers house isn’t that far through the woods. You remember going there for Christmas Eve, right? Go straight about thirty feet, then make a right and keep walking.”

“Steve.”

The door starts to open, and the voices fill the other room. Steve’s eyes dart towards the sound before landing back on her. Only making her more scared.

“I’ll be there within an hour with the rest of our stuff. But it will be worse if they see you’re here. I don’t want them to hurt you.”

“Steve,” she pleads for him to slow down.

“You got it. Go to the loose fence behind the pool house and then walk straight a little bit. Then make a right and keep going. You’ll see their house after a while. Take this.” He reaches for the walkie on the kitchen table. Messing with the dial. “When you get to the woods, call for a code red. It won’t go to everyone, just to them. I’ll be there when I can.”

Before Julie can say anything else, Steve pushes her out the door and shuts it behind her. Sliding the lock into place.

Heavy breaths fill her lungs, burning slightly with the chilled air. She looks at Steve though the glass. Face frantically asking for an explanation. Trying to convince her the one she has is wrong. They can’t be here right now.

“Go, please,” Steve mouths through the glass. Terrified.

Julie turns. Walking to the pool house. Finding the loose panels of the fence and pulls them to the side. The same way she would do when she would sneak into this backyard. When she lived in that other house and would do anything not to be there.

Steve’s instructions replay in her mind. Walk straight for a bit, about thirty feet. Maybe more. The turn right and keep walking until you see the house. Call for a code red. Julie looks at the walkie in her hand before she presses the button. Seeing how her hand in shaking.

“Copy,” a man’s voice comes through the speaker. Julie unable to place it right now. “I’ll wait outside for you. If you don’t see the porch light, look for the flashlight. Call again if you get lost.”

Julie turns to the house again. The light click on in Steve’s room. He shouldn’t be much longer. There’s not much else to grab. He should be right after her.

She thinks about waiting. But she already called. They’ll get worried if she doesn’t show up.

Her mind can’t stop racing as she walks. Sun setting slowly as it becomes harder to see the ground. Squinting to make sure she doesn’t trip on a root or branch.

Did Steve’s parents really show up? Just unannounced. That part wasn’t as surprising when she thought about it. They seemed like the people to do that. Steve mentioned that they might come home. She didn’t believe it then. She barely believed it now.

He was right. They showed up at the worst possible time. Give it another week and they would have been out of there anyway. But no, they just had to show up today.

The rage of Steve’s father’s voice rings in her head. The threats on the phone call finding their way back to her mind. What would they do when they saw he was still there? He wanted the two of them gone, that didn’t happen. Not yet. It was happening, but something told Julie that wouldn’t matter. In their heads, Steve disobeyed them. Again.

. . .

Steve watches Julie round the pool house before he turns away. Knowing that she’s going to a safe place, that no matter what the Byers’ will take care of her. His safety, he’s not so sure about. Anger fills his dad fast, and it’s already bubbling over with the sight of the Beemer still sitting in the driveway. Or the fact that there’s lights on in the house.

He’s about to see his parents for the first time in two years. And he’s terrified.

Everything slows down like one of the horror movie scenes. Where the footsteps thump down the hall while the protagonist just stands and waits like an idiot. Waiting for it to strike. They don’t seem like such idiots anymore. Steve knows how feet can feel glued to the floor, but it has a whole new meaning now.

His back is straight, chest puffed out in a way that makes him look bigger than he is. Anything to make him more menacing than his father’s glare. Or fist. Or whatever is coming his way as his father finds his way to the kitchen.

For the first time in two years, Steve looks at his father’s face. Disgusted how much it looks like his. A constant reminder of where he comes from, no matter how hard he tries. Rage filled eyes meet Steve’s, waiting for him to make the first move. All he does is cross his arms, clench his jaw. Trap his father in a glare. He’s not speaking until he has to.

“Steven,” his mother breaks the silence. “We were not expecting you.”

She always tried to keep the peace between them. To try and keep in his father’s rage. It rarely worked. But she tried. It was the one thing Steve commended her for. Deep down, he felt bad for her. Trapped in an unhappy marriage having to follow after Richard just to make sure he didn’t cheat. But that still meant leaving him, and she didn’t call enough for him to forgive for that.

“No, we were not,” Richard finally speaks, voice tense. “What are you still doing here?” Considering you are no longer welcome in this house, that is.

His father can’t even speak his name. Steve debates walking past right up to his room. Filling the last tote bag before doing the same with the rest of Julie’s stuff. Walking out without an explanation. His father raises his eyebrow with a tilt to his head. Awaiting an explanation.

Instead, Steve decides to gloat. “I’m actually just waiting for the keys to my house. Didn’t want the neighbors to think you left your son to sleep in his car. That wouldn’t be so nice to the reputation, wouldn’t it, dad.” He continues to glare at his father, not backing down.

His father lets out a condescending laugh. “If you were so concerned about reputation, then we wouldn’t have to go to court. Would we, Steven? Instead, you think that you deserve some kind of justice. After all we’ve done for you.”

It’s Steve’s turn to laugh. “What did you do for me exactly?”

“Put a roof over your head, make sure there was money to put food on the table. Give you a car, clothes, expensive gifts. See you through high school, pay for your sports equipment. Everything you have is because we gave it to you.” Richard’s voice raises, almost yelling. Almost.

Steve resists a flinch when the last word booms through the room. Instead of saying another word, he side-steps his parents, heading upstairs. Flicking on the light in his room, stuffing as much of his stuff into a tote bag. His room already looks bare except for the sheet and the stupid car poster on his wall.

His mother appears in his doorway moments later, a more silent argument ready to be said. Until she sees the walls. “You painted?” she gasped.

“I did. Hope you don’t mind. I won’t be here much longer anyway. You can turn it back into what it was.”

A sickened smile forms on his mother’s face. “You never told me you wanted to change your room. We could have done it together.”

Meaning that she could have changed it while he watched. Hating how it would have turned out no matter what the product was. His mother never listened to him anyway.

“Well, you were never here long enough to change it, so I just did it myself.” He smiles to himself when his mother’s smile twitches. Knowing that his words stung.

The tote bag gets slung over his shoulder as he pushes past her. Leaving her to look at her ruined masterpiece as he packs up Julie’s room. Pulling out the tote bag she has underneath her bed and putting away the few essentials that she had left. Taking out another to shove her clothes into.

His mother gasps as she sees the paint over these walls as well. This room in particular being her favorite guest room. “What have you done?”

“Painted. Like I said.” He continues to fill the second tote bag.

Richard finds his way up the stairs, done waiting for Steve. Eyes landing on the desk where the picture of Julie and her mother rests. Steve grabs it before he can, gently placing it in the tote bag. Throwing some clothes around it so it doesn’t break.

“Has someone been living in here?” his father asks, not willing to admit he recognized the woman in the picture.

Steve takes a deep breath. “Oh no one special. Just your daughter.”

His parents stiffen at the same time. Bringing a sly smile to Steve’s face.

“I don’t have a daughter,” his mother says with feigned confidence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to him.” He meets his father’s eyes again. “I was talking about Julie.”

As fast the smile formed of Steve’s face, it’s smacked off. Cheek stinging with the contact of his father’s hand. His mother gasps, scolding her husband. Knowing nothing would stop him from doing it again. Steve grabs the desk chair, using it to balance him as he gets his bearings. Waits for the ringing in his ear to calm down, for the breath to return to his lungs.

“You are never to speak that name again,” Richard commands. “She is nothing.”

“Julie is not nothing.” Steve manages to stand, only to have to grip the chair again when Richard’s fist makes contact again. Lip darting out to taste the blood coming from his split lip. A short laugh escapes as he stands, planting his feet stronger this time. “You really thought I’d never figure out about her.”

“You think you are so tough, don’t you, Steven. Changing your room, getting a job, housing someone you don’t know. All of that you could do because of me. All of that you are going to lose. What will come of you when you don’t have us paying for everything anymore? When you can’t come crawling back to us when life gets hard.”

Steve manages to stand again. Plants his feet the way he’s learned to. Treating his father like every other monster he’s faced. Wishing that there was a bat in his hand to twirl around. Make a show of protecting himself.

He doesn’t need it this time. Richard might pretend to be strong and menacing, but he’s just a person. Who got a few good hits in because Steve wasn’t prepared for them. He is now.

“You would know something about housing someone you don’t know. You’ve been housing me for twenty years.”

Richard’s arm raises again, but Steve was ready for it this time. Catching his wrist before it can contact Steve’s face. It surprises the both of them, but Steve doesn’t let his guard down. His eyes dart to his mother, who hides just barely behind Richard. Laura was never one for confrontation, and now he’s something more than just her son. Now he’s a threat.

“I am more than what you think I am. I changed my room because I never liked the old one. Because I should feel welcome in my childhood home. I got the job because if my hard work, not because of my name. I gave Julie a home because she is my sister, that is a fact. And because her and I have something in common. Our father knows nothing about us.”

“Let go of me, Steven.” For the first time, Richard is the one with fear in his eyes.

“Are you going to hit me again?” Steve tightens his grip.

Richard shakes his head. “No, no I’m not. Don’t do anything rash here, Steven.”

Steve lets go of Richard’s wrist with a swing, letting it slam back into him. “I go by Steve, but you both always ignored that anyway. I’m not some kid you get to push around anymore, no matter how hard you’ll try. You might think I’m stupid for staying here after you told me to get out, you might think what I’m doing is pointless. But I’m not doing all of this for me anymore, I’m doing it for me and for Julie. Because while you thought she was just something you could pay to never think about again, you missed out on a pretty great kid.”

He takes a deep breath. “But I guess you’re used to that. You missed out on the kid you kept around. Even if you weren’t here to see me grow up. I hope it all was worth it. It was a lot of hell for me.”

Steve grabs the tote bags, slinging one over each shoulder and the other in his hand. Taking a moment to realize that this is the last time he’ll ever set foot in this house. It’ll no longer be his home. It should be sadder than it is. There were many good memories among the bad that happened here. But he feels a weight lift off his shoulders. It’s not over yet, but he’s free of one of his chains.

“You going to let me leave? Not like you want me here anyway.”

Neither of them moves. Not ready to admit they lost.

“Where are you going to go?” Laura asks like she cares. She might, but it was too little too late at this point.

“You don’t get to know that.”

Laura lowers her head in a nod, accepting. Steve pushes his way past them and down the stairs. Finding his keys.

Richard follows him down, not willing to give up. “Don’t think you can have the car, we paid for that. It’s ours.”

Steve laughs, undoing a keychain Robin made him from the ring. “I know, was just getting this off.” He tosses Richard the keys. “There you go. House key is on there too, so you won’t have to bother about me coming back.”

He grabs his flashlight from the hall closet before opening the door. Sparing one last look at his parents, to find anything that shows remorse. All he sees is Richard’s hard stare and Laura’s sorry eyes. Nothing calling him to stay.

So he leaves.

. . .

Julie was lucky she didn’t get lost. She followed the directions and, after a while, saw the porch light. The last bit of sunlight helps her get the rest of the way there. Illuminating the path just slightly so she doesn’t trip.

“Hey,” a voice says from beside her, making her jump. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Julie turns to see the Chief holding a flashlight, the light pointing towards her. “I think you would have even if I knew you were there.”

“Come on, let’s get you inside. It’s getting cold out here.” Hopper steps in front of her, leading her the rest of the way.

Joyce is waiting for them in the house. Getting up from the couch when they open the door. “You’ve been out there for a while. I was getting worried. Oh honey, you’re shaking, are you cold?”

Julie looks down at her hands, seeing them shake. She doesn’t feel cold. More in shock than anything. Afraid of something she’s never really experienced. Only hearing his voice once over the phone. That was enough to spark fear. Not for her, but for Steve.

It was all she could think about when she was walking. What Steve was going to face when his parents saw that he wasn’t there. If they saw what they did to their rooms. If they saw her.

She agreed it was probably best that she wasn’t there. It would have probably made it all ten times worse. But leaving Steve alone in that house, with them. It felt like a bad idea.

He can take care of himself, she knew that. That didn’t stop her from feeling like she should be there. Be a barrier to stop them from hurting him. In whatever way they were going to. Maybe if there was a witness, he could leave without a fight.

“Julie, sweetie, are you ok?” Joyce’s warm voice breaks through her thoughts.

Julie tries to say something, but nothing comes out. It hits her all at once how scared she was for him.

“What time is it?” she asks.

Joyce checks the clock in the living room. “Just about seven thirty, why?”

Julie left a little after seven. So, assuming Steve left right after her, he should be here soon. And if he left a bit later, he should be here by eight. That’s if nothing went wrong. If they didn’t get into an argument. Or he didn’t get lost.

“He said he’d get here within the hour. So by eight. If nothing happened. Do you think something will happen?” Her voice can’t help but shake.

Joyce makes a face that is supposed to help but doesn’t. Full of sympathy, but one of no answers. “I’m not sure. But whatever it is, he’ll be fine. I know he will.”

“And if he isn’t?” Julie keeps seeing the small person that Steve becomes when he talks to his father. How the light drains out of him, and he becomes a shell of the person he is. His father isn’t even in person and can do that. What will happen when he is in person?

“He will be,” Joyce assures. “How about you come in, sit down. Can I get you anything? Water, hot chocolate?”

Julie lets herself be led to the living room. “Water would be nice.”

“Alright. El here if you want to see her, have someone to sit with.”

“Yeah, yes. I would like that.”

Joyce smiles at her. “Ok, I’ll go get her for you. Jim.” She nods her head toward the kitchen before heading down the hall.

Hopper brings her a glass of water, which she takes. Taking a sip before setting it on the table, seeing how her hands still shake. Joyce comes back down the hall motioning for Hopper to join her in the kitchen. Leaving Julie alone in the living room. Until El comes to sit next to her.

“Joyce told me about what happened,” she says softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“He used to hit my mom,” Julie blurts out. “He used to hit my mom when they were together, and she made him angry. Steve made him angry. I know he did. He called the house last week and, and kicked us out. And we didn’t leave yet, because we couldn’t. Steve doesn’t get the keys for a few more days. What if he hits Steve, too?”

El’s hands find hers, holding them together to calm the shaking. Julie turns her head to meet El’s eyes. Seeing an expression that feigns strength but fear still rests in her eyes. She’s scared for Steve too.

“I have known Steve for longer that you have. I know how strong he is, how brave he is. He will be ok. I promise.” There’s a certainty in her words.

Somehow, Julie believes her. “Ok. Ok, yeah. Yeah. He’ll be ok.”

“Would you like a hug?”

Julie nods. Her breath starting to even out again, the adrenaline keeping her tears at bay failing.

El opens her arms and leans forward to give Julie a hug. Julie takes it with a choked sob, tears starting to fall. El pats her back awkwardly, not quite sure what to do but it’s helping. With a few deep breaths, Julie’s able to pull herself together. Pulling away from El to wipe the tears from her eyes. She won’t be ok until Steve shows up, but she’s better. For now.

“Thanks, that helped.”

El smiles. “Good. Do you want to watch something while we wait? Keep your mind off of it?”

“Yeah, sure.”

El clicks on the tv, finding a channel with some reruns that Julie doesn’t pay attention to. Her mind is still on Steve. Knowing that the there’s no sunlight left to guide the way, and he has no walkie to let her know when she’s coming. Yet she still grips the one resting in her lap. Hoping by some miracle she hears Steve’s voice through the staticky connection and knows he’s ok.

But nothing comes through. The only noise filling the house is the tv, and the not so silent whispering between Joyce and the Chief in the kitchen. After a while, Hopper heads back outside with the flashlight, walkie stuffed in his jacket pocket. He’s going to look for Steve.

It feels like forever before there’s a knock at the door. Making Julie sit up straighter. Joyce emerges from the kitchen to open it. A very winded Steve behind the door, tote bags slung over his shoulder and flashlight in hand.

“Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes while catching his breath. “I had to go the long way.”

Joyce ushers him in. Steve barely gets a chance to put the bags down before Julie’s on her feet and pulling him into a hug.

“You’re ok.”

“Yeah, I’m ok. Did you get here ok, I know I kind of freaked you out.”

Julie lets go. “Freaked me out. Steve, you terrified the shit out of me. After the phone call last week and the little I knew about him I,” she pauses when she sees his split lip. “He hit you?”

Steve touches his lip. “Yeah, he, uh, he did. But I’m ok. I’ve had far worse than this.”

“You say that like it makes it ok. It doesn’t.”

He looks down with a shake of his head. “I know it doesn’t.”

“He really hit you because you didn’t leave.” Julie can’t seem to wrap her head around the idea. But then, she would never hit someone for any reason. Let alone that.

Steve clears his throat. “Sort of. Why don’t you go sit with El for a bit, I have to talk to Joyce for a second.”

She gives him a confused look, knowing he didn’t answer her question fully. But she still goes to sit on the couch again. Him and Joyce go to the kitchen, speaking in whispers. Something tells her that reason he was attacked was because of her.

. . .

Joyce uses her walkie to let Hopper know that Steve is at the house. She gets him a glass of water and makes him sit down, looking at his lip.

“It’s really not that bad. You and I both know this is the least beat up I’ve ever been after a fight.”

She sits down in the chair across from him. “You should listen to Julie. That still doesn’t make it ok.”

He looks down at his hands. “I know. Just easier to think of it that way. Out of all the things he’s done, he’s never hit me before.”

Hopper comes into the kitchen, sitting down next to Joyce. “You ok, kid?”

Steve shakes his head. “I will be, just need a second. Thanks for making sure she got here. Making sure she was safe. I didn’t know what would happen if he saw her there. Just knowing that she was there at all was the reason why,” he can’t finish the sentence.

“Of course. You both can stay here as long as you need to,” Joyce offers.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Hopper crosses his arms. “You could press charges if you wanted, make your case a little stronger.”

“It’s my word against his, and my mom will never speak out against him.” She never did before, why would it change now. “Can I use your phone, I need to make some calls.”

Joyce nods and Steve heads to the phone in the hall. Pulling out Sarah’s number from his pocket. Dialing it with a deep breath. She wouldn’t be happy with this.

She wasn’t. Cursing Steve through the phone with an “I told you so”. But grateful that Julie is safe, grateful that he is too. She gives him a day before she’ll say anything. Give him time to make it look like Julie was just at an extended sleepover. For them to move. He thanks her just before she hangs up.

Robin is next. Takes a second to make sure he’s ok before cursing out his dad. Offering to go over there herself and give him a piece of her mind. He tells her it’s a bad idea, she disagrees, but still says she will keep it all for when she sees him in court. That way there will be witnesses. She makes sure he’s ok, offers to come over. Steve assures that he’s fine and will talk to her again in the morning.

The last person is Eddie. Steve already knows how he’ll react, but still hopes he won’t freak out that much.

“Where are you right now?” he asks after Steve fills him in.

“The Byers. It was the closest place that was safe.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

Steve holds the phone closer to his mouth. “Eds, really. You don’t have to come over.”

“Like hell I don’t.” Eddie hangs up before Steve can protest anymore.

He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t want to see Eddie right now. That if knowing that his boyfriend was willing to drop everything just to be there with him right now didn’t bring him comfort. Part of him didn’t want Eddie to see him like this, though. Fragile, partially homeless. Taken a few hits to the face.

As if Eddie hasn’t seen Steve beat up before. Pretty much all of Hawkins has, it’s a reoccurring event. But those times were different. It was because of his own idiocy or protecting someone. This was at the hands of someone that already caused him more pain than he should have gone through. He didn’t know how to admit that he got hit for no reason.

He heads back to the kitchen, tells them that Eddie’s coming over. They don’t say much, but have a knowing look in their eye. One that scares the hell out of him, but makes him feel seen at the same time. Steve could be himself in this house. Around these people. It wasn’t even his, and it felt more like home than he’s ever known.

“I never asked if you were ok,” Steve says as he sits down next to Julie. “Are you?”

Julie shrugs. “As ok as I can be I guess.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Did he hit you because of me?” Julie asks after a pause.

Steve would do anything to lie to her right now. To dart around the question and make up some excuse. Knowing her, she would see right through it. She didn’t need him lying to add to tonight. But would it be better for her to know the truth?

There’s a knock at the door before Steve can try to answer. He thinks it’s for the best. Enough has happened for one night.

He stands when Joyce opens the door. Almost getting pushed out of the way when Eddie sees Steve in the living room. They meet in a hug, Steve feeling more relieved that he thought he would.

“Those jackasses couldn’t have waited a few more days before they finally came home. They had to do it while you were still there.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Yeah well, they never had the best timing.”

Eddie notices the cut on his lip when he pulls back from the hug. Eyes filling with anger. “I’m actually going to get arrested for murder this time.”

“Eds, it’s really not that bad.”

“Not that bad.” Eddie’s voice raises. “Not that bad, Steve. You have a fucking split lip. Your eye is puffy.”

Steve tries to calm Eddie down, still conscious of the people around them. Trying not to make it look too revealing. “It could be worse.”

He sees Joyce say something to the girls that gets them to leave and head down the hall. Leaving him and Eddie alone in the living room.

“How hard did he hit you? Can you hear me alright? What about your vision, nothing’s blurry. You can still see fine?” Eddie clocks when they leave, grabbing Steve’s head with both his hands, assessing the damage.

Steve tries to pull Eddie’s hands away, make this less of a big deal. “I can hear and see fine. He didn’t hit me hard enough to do anything. I’ve had worse, it’s the least concerning thing that’s happened in the last few hours.”

“Your father, a grown man, assaulted you. His son. And you think there are more concerning things that happened in the last few hours.” Eddie’s face falls. “Just because you’re an adult when he hit you doesn’t make it better.”

“I know that,” he admits. Starting to feel the weight of everything finally sink in. “I just don’t know how to process it all right now. Tonight’s been a lot and I just need a minute, a day, I don’t know. Something. I just can’t think about that right now.”

“Ok,” Eddie says softly. “Ok. Then we won’t talk about it anymore. When every you’re ready. Does it hurt though, do you need ice or anything? Last thing, I promise.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, no. It’s ok. I’m ok right now.”

Eddie nods. Kissing Steve before pulling him into another hug.

Just when Steve gets his life together, it all falls apart again. Or at least feels like it. In just a few days, the pieces will be put back into place. His life will get back on schedule. His schedule. Where he can move into a house that he bought, with his own money. To a job that he got, by himself. And life that has nothing to do with his last name.

Even if the court date is a few months away, and he’ll have to see his parents again. But after that, he’ll never have to interact with them again. He will be permanently free.

Right now. He’s trying to hold it all together. Making his brain slow down to give himself a minute to breath. Before the crushing reality of all that just happened presses down on his chest. And they’ll take hold of his mind again. Just for a little while, then he’ll break free again.

Joyce insists they stay the night. Explaining how Julie is already set up in El’s room, and how the two of them can take the pull-out couch. Just like that, with no explanation needed. Or excuses. Maybe Steve could tell everyone about them soon.

It’s still early when everyone goes to bed. Just wanting the day to be over, even if they’re not tired. But the comfort of darkness lets Eddie scoot closer, hold Steve a little tighter. Make him feel put together even though he’s slowly starting to fall apart.

Tomorrow is a new day. With plenty of problems to be solved and conversations to be had. Telling the rest of the group to stay clear of his old house and change his contact information with a few people. Try to get the keys a few days earlier.

Tonight is meant for sleep. To float around and exist without anything pressing his mind. Wrapped up in his boyfriend’s arms and feel comfort for a brief moment. Until his looks in the mirror again and see the healing cut on his lip, and the slight bruise on his cheek. Almost fall apart all over again until he pulls himself back together. Each time a little weaker than the last until he finally breaks.

It’s so easy to fall back into old habits. To bottle everything up for the sake of other. For the sake of himself. Steve really can’t process everything right now. It would sting more that it already does. So, it gets pushed away. Until he’s ready to face it again.

He only hopes that time will be sooner than most. So he doesn’t blow up at someone that’s undeserving. Saying something he can’t take back.

But right now, he doesn’t need to think about that. Right now he needs to sleep.

Tag list(let me know if you want to be added or removed): @homoerotictangerine, @mugloversonly, @thesuninyaface, @imyelenasexual, @anaibis, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @brainsteddielyrotted, @jackiemonroe5512, @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @lolawonsstuff, @writingandmushroomdragons, @stevesbipanic, @sierra-violet, @steddie-as-they-go, @dauntlessdiva, @mousedetective, @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner, @zombiethingy, @connected-dots-st-reblogger, @that-agender-from-pluto, @allyricas, @cheddartreets, @devondespresso, @crypticcorvidinacottage, @queenie-ofthe-void @chronicpainstevetruther, @cheddartreets, @theupsidedownrealestateagent, @acidbubblegummie, @sirsnacksalot, @l0st-strawberry, @helpimstuckposting, @strawberry-starss, @freddykicksasses, @italianwhore1, @i-threw-my-name-out-the-window, @rageagainsttheapathy, @nuggies4life, @ape31, @whimsicalwitchm, @chrissycunninghamfanblog, @michellegilligan, @hippielittlemetalhead, @bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale, @jaytriesstuff, @confused-stripes, @faeb1tch42069, @marklee-blackmore, @hel-spawn, @genderless-spoon, @mamafaithful, @estrellami-1, @starryeyedpoet17 @i-amthepizzaman, @lilpomelito @melonmochi

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #julie lawson #joyce byers #jim hopper #long lost/secret sibling #i don't know which ways home fic #cw minor descriptions of violence #tw minor descriptions of violence #cw physical assault #tw physical assault

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leviathans-watching · 1 year ago

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mfil - 41

-` ♡ ´- m.list | no taglist | next | wc: .8k

-` ♡ ´- a/n: four more chapters :)

*NOT CLICKBAIT!!!* when asmo learns that you, the newest exchange student has a youtube account and following somewhat comparable to his own, he decided right then and there not to like you. however, after an unfortunate (and misleading) exchange goes viral, he has no choice but to fake date you in order to save face. will asmo crush you and put you into place like you deserve? or are those funny feelings in his stomach not hate, like he had thought? like, subscribe, and maybe fall in love (with this smau) to find out!!

you freeze. is he going to tell the truth?

you don’t know what you’d do if he did. or what you’d do if he didn’t.

schooling your expression, you turn to him. he too, seems to have just realized what he read.

“our first kiss,” he repeats, quieter. “well, mc and i had just begun dating, and i was at their, well, diavolo’s house. like i am now, actually. we wanted to make a video where i did their makeup, because it sounded fun. so we got all ready, and it was as i was leaning over them, beginning the process, and they looked up at me. i just froze, heart racing.” he sighs, almost fondly.

and look, you can only spend so much time with someone lying before you learn their tells, and asmo… doesn’t seem like he’s lying.\

you don’t dare to think that he might feel the same way as you. he hates you, remember? can’t stand your presence.

“they actually pulled me in first,” he continues, and the chat explodes. you guess the audience hadn’t expected that. “and i was so surprised. now, i’m not going to go into too much detail about what happened next–” he says, winking at the camera, and you, unfortunately, remember how he’d ran away right after “–but let’s just say that mc is a pretty good kisser and i definitely enjoy kissing them.”

it takes you a second to move past that and remember it’s your turn for a question. get it together, mc.

“well, i’m glad you think that,” you say, a bit stiffly, and his eyes sharpen. “after all, otherwise things would be, er, kind of awkward. anyway,” you add hurriedly, turning to read the chat. ot’s moving really quickly, with so many people reacting to the story. one message in particular gains traction, with many people spamming it: kiss right now.

you lean back, sending a wide-eyed look asmo’s way. he reads the message, then freezes slightly.

“we should probably give the audience what they want,” you mutter, not entirely selfless in the pursuit, now that he talked about kissing you, you really want to do it again. even if it is a stupid idea, which is absolutely is.

asmo’s face is unreadable, and he turns to the camera, a smile sliding into place. “fine, fine. we see the messages. we’ll kiss. but nothing crazy, at least not for free.”

“asmo!” your cheeks heat and you hit him in the arm. he laughs, and you realize he probably said that to mess with you more than anything.

his hand comes up around your cheek, and you gulp, suddenly nervous. you shouldn’t even be nervous! he was the one that ran away last time, not you!

gently, you lean in, and before you know it, his lips are on yours. it’s nothing crazy, like he’d said, and what you’re feeling must be relief for that. you stare at him after he pulls away, completely forgetting about the live, the camera, the chat, and he does the same.

after a long moment, you finally break the moment, pulling all of the way away from him. “well,” you say to the live, clearing your throat, “it’s been great, but i think asmo and i are going to call it a night. thanks for tuning in and asking questions! i love you all!” you don’t even let asmo say anything, just ending the live.

“you realize everyone thinks we’re going to have sex now, right?” he asks, and you put your face in your hands. “oh, come on,” he says after a moment, “is kissing me really that bad?”

you give him a dark glare. “i should be asking you that,” you huff. “i mean, after all, you literally ran away the last time we kissed.”

that shuts him up. but not for long. “i was just taken by surprise,” he whines. “kissing you is fine.”

“so you weren’t lying on the live?” you ask, and his throat bobs as he swallows. now’s not the time to get distracted by that smooth skin, damn it!

“i don’t know what you want me to say.”

“the truth,” you say, exhaling nervously. “i want to know if you still actually really hate me.”

“o-of course i do!” he says quickly, and really, what had you expected.

“well, the feelings are mutual.” you stand. “i think i’m ready for bed now. good night.” you don’t even wait for him to stand, turning off the lights and crawling right under the covers. he can figure out how to deal.

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim ad your own

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thefrontofmymind · 2 years ago

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Might As Well 2; Looking Straight At You

matty healy x videographer!reader

wc: 5843

masterlist

You saw Chris off to his car. He made sure you were alright to stay, right up until he was getting ready to pull onto the road.

“Just call me if you need me to pick you up, I’ll come straight away,” he assured you as you leaned against the window to say goodbye.

“I’ll be okay,” you answered. You stood on the driveway, waiting for him to drive up the road back to your house, your safety.

As you turned around to walk back to the shed, you got a shock. Matty was walking towards you, through the gate that separated the back and front gardens. He saw you jump a little.

“Sorry! Sorry..” He put his hands up in surrender. “I–you were taking a while so I wanted to make sure you were alright..”

You smiled a bit. You hoped with the dim light, he wouldn’t be able to see how touched you were by the gesture.

“So shall we?” He pointed over his back towards the shed in distant view. He held out his hand in front of him. “C’mon.”

You weren’t sure what possessed you to grab his hand as confidently as you did, but with a spring in your step and a firm grip on Matty’s hand, you two were strolling back to the shed. He let out a breathy chuckle as you walked. You tried your hardest to just seem happy, to mask your pure fear in doing or saying the wrong thing. But you held the philosophy of facing your fears, so you’d do just that.

“Just quickly,” Matty started in a hush tone as you were reaching the door of the shed. “I just wanted to say thanks for all of this. I can’t tell you how big of a favour this is…”

“Don’t worry about it…” You answered, trying to act as aloof as possible.

“No, I will!” He replied. “When we get all big and famous, you’ll be our number one, alright? And we’ll pay you how ever much you want.”

You laughed, with an involuntary shake of your head.

“If you want to!” He added.

“I want to.”

You were shocked at how welcoming the guys were once they’d all had a beer or two in them–as well as yourself. Soon you were laughing and chatting like you’d known them for years. You tried not to step in too much, you didn’t want to be the focus of the conversation, but each of the guys–in their own roundabout way–found a way to get to know you; your likes and dislikes, why you’re so passionate about filmmaking and how you got into it, your family life. Of course, you always ended every answer with an “and what about you?”. You didn’t want to seem too self centred. It soon got into the early hours of the morning, and one by one, the band got up to leave. You felt like you were in a tough place, you didn’t quite know what to do–you didn’t want to seem like a lightweight who was spoiling the fun by asking to be taken home, but you also didn’t want to seem like a clingy hang-er-on-er who didn’t know how to not overstay her welcome.

Unfortunately, you spent so much time worrying, that you were the last left standing with Matty in his shed. The small TV sat on a small side table opposite the sofa was left on some program advertising whatever crap geriatric insomniacs will buy with little a thought in their sleep deprived brains–background noise for your current conversation.

“Wait, you're kidding!” You laughed. “You’ve never seen Scarface?”

Matty shook his head, feigning embarrassment with a smirk on his face.

“We have to watch it! It’s so fucking good!” You continued. The more beer you drank, the looser you got. And the looser you got, the friendlier you became. Not that Matty was complaining, he actually thought you were a pretty cool girl, which wasn’t always the case with girls that liked to hang around him.

You collapsed from your stance above Matty–assumed from your shock–back to next to him on the sofa. You felt your knee touch his leg, you couldn’t think of something to say and you didn’t want to move it, for fear he’d see your reaction, so you stood your ground. And it didn’t seem to bother Matty, not in the slightest.

You kept chatting, and chatting, and chatting, and chatting, until you could see a sliver of sun peaking through the tiny window in the shed. It wasn’t until you knew what time it was, did all of your tiredness seem to fall down on top of you.

“Shit,” Matty chuckled, checking the small digital clock sitting next to him. “Should probably take you home.”

You yawned and nodded, before grabbing your bag and leaving–through the door held open by Matty. You both sluggishly strolled to his van.

“Look at you, eh?” He said, putting an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him–almost pulling you off balance too. “One night of hanging with the cool kids and you’re already out til dawn.”

You just scoffed. “Cool kids…”

It was a pretty short drive to your house–especially given the hour, only early shift workers were on the road at this time. Though that didn’t mean you both couldn’t find a way to fill that short time. You’d think with the hours you’d just spent talking about any and everything, you’d have exhausted all avenues, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

There was something about Matty that just made you want to tell him every little secret of your’s, and he felt the same. You’d talked about your dreams, your fears, your embarrassing moments, there wasn’t a stone unturned–or at least poked at, like your parents’ divorce, which you didn’t really want to get into.

When Matty pulled into your driveway, your heart sank. You finally had to leave the bubble that you and Matty had made, and be subjected to the real world–and worse than that, Chris asking you for every little detail of what happened, and why you were home so late.

“Well…” He said, you couldn’t help but think he looked a little disappointed too, but you dismissed it as your teenage romanticism getting to you. “Thanks for everything. I mean it.”

“And thank you…For tonight, just everything…Thanks,” you replied.

Matty leant towards you and you panicked for a split second, thinking he was going in for a kiss, until his arms spread and wrapped around your shoulders, you breathed again. You hugged him back, you aimed for a looser grip than his, you didn’t want to seem too eager.

Just as you were pulling away from him, he kissed your head, and thanked you again. You quickly made your way inside the house and to your room, successfully evading your divisive older brother.

You didn’t have high expectations, you’d edit the video and send it to the band, and maybe just once they’d invite you to a show of theirs and that would be the end of it. So you were a little shocked when Matty texted you the next morning, and after your polite reply–saying there was no need for him to thank you again–he seemingly wanted to continued the conversation.

Over the next couple days, you two spent almost every waking hour texting each other. You honestly didn’t think you’d have anything else left to talk about after your overnight tête-à-tête, yet he continued to surprise you.

And then again when he invited you to a party–”a friend of a friend’s, I won’t know a lot of people, so be my back-up?”.

Of course you said yes, you couldn’t turn him down, and thus began your descent into a week of stress; desperately searching for what to wear and figuring out how you were going to act. You’d never really gone to a proper party before, you didn’t know how you were supposed to act.

You were panicking as Matty drove to your house, and when you were sitting next to him on the way over–in a thoughtful choice of simple jeans and a vest, to not seem too overdone–and especially as you got out of the rickety van, looking at the looming house in front of you. It almost seemed to lean over you, preying on your fear with its pulsing bass from the soundsystem inside.

Matty didn’t say much to you, you couldn’t help but analyse him–he looked nervous, not as much as you, but you feared it wasn’t just run-of-the-mill social anxiety. You’d realised there was a lot riding on how this evening was going to go, this was the first time you’d done something together, as friends, in the vicinity of other people.

When you walked in, it was practically anarchy. You really felt for whomever owned the house, they had a hell of a mess to clean the next morning. Though you didn’t have much time to think about it before Matty grabbed your hand and dragged you to a kitchen stocked full of beer, as well as every liquor and mixer imaginable.

“Okay, I’m gonna make you my drink,” Matty started. He began pouring from a handful of different bottles into two clear plastic cups he’d gotten from the stack of them from the counter. “I came up with this…about three years ago, I think? And I promise you, it is hangover proof, and tastes like fruit juice.”

You smiled. He remembered when you told him you never liked the taste of liquor–the few times you’d manage to sneak a drink on New Years, or at the parties your mum and stepdad would throw. He finished off both drinks with a splash of cranberry juice and handed one of them to you to try. He was right, it tasted just like tropical fruit juice.

The night began to blur the more you drank of Matty’s magical concoction. You soon lost him in the crowd, he said he saw an old friend of his and he was just going over to say hello, but you supposed he got lost in all the shuffle in the living room. You didn’t know what to do, you were sitting alone in a room full of strangers. Your anxiety crept its way up your neck again, suffocating you. You needed air.

You burst onto the small patio. The first thing you noticed was it was cold–Matty convinced you that you didn’t need a jacket, boy, was he wrong. The second was how the air seemed even smokier outside than it did inside. Then you saw Adam, sitting, smoking and chatting with a girl you were sure Chris had brought home once as his girlfriend of the month, Rebecca was her name, if you recall right. He locked eyes with you and you didn’t know what to do. You were sure he could see your distress, but it was very glaringly obvious that he was not your biggest fan. He nodded his head at you, asking you to come to him, so you did, sitting next to him on the wicker ottoman that a good six people had already gotten comfortable on.

“Hi Adam.”

“Hey, you alright?” He asked, offering you a cigarette from the packet in his hand. You took it.

“Came here with Matty, but he wandered off…” He lit the cigarette in between your lips.

He chuckled. “Yeah, he does that. This is Bec–Rebecca, by the way.”

You exchanged a polite smile with her. “Yeah, I think we’ve met before? You know my brother, Chris?”

She gave a slow nod. “Right! You looked familiar!”

After some polite smalltalk, Rebecca left–claiming her curfew. The patio began to thin out as you and Adam continued to chainsmoke together, though you didn’t really say much.

“Sorry, by the way,” you said after a particularly long silence. “For bothering you here, and with Rebecca…Didn’t mean to cramp your style.”

“It’s okay…You looked…worried, I figured you needed some help.”

You laughed. “Yeah, it’s kind of just my natural face. But thank you, I don’t know anyone here, and the person I came with was nowhere to be found…So just…thank you.”

Adam looked deep in thought, there was about a minute before he spoke again. “I just want you to know something,” he began. “With Matty…” Pause. “He’s not the kind of guy to stay with a girl like you…” Pause. “I just mean, he gets bored easily, and I hate it but he always hurts a girl’s feelings and just moves on to someone new…”

Your heart broke a little. Granted, you and Matty hadn’t been overly romantic or anything, but there was a part of you that hoped it would head that way–he was so nice to you, and you’d never really clicked with someone like that before.

“I won’t get hurt, it’s not like that with us,” you lied. “We’re just friends.”

Adam put out his cigarette in the kitschy glass ashtray placed on the patio table in front of you. You did the same.

“How about I take you home? Haven’t had a drink in a while, should be good to drive.”

You stood up, nodding. Though you paused before walking back into the house to get to the front garden. It was like you were possessed and you hugged him–wrapping your arms around his middle. He froze for a second, before putting his arms over your shoulders, giving your back a firm pat.

“Thanks,” You said as you pulled away. “For taking me home.”

You couldn’t stop thinking about what Adam said to you–not in disbelief but more like a sudden revelation. Of course Matty is the kind of guy who loves and leaves, and of course you’d fall for his act. You just hoped that Adam hadn’t cottoned on to your distress in his beaten up Honda Accord as he silently drove you home–not a single other car on the road, the only prevalent element on your trip was one broken streetlamp about 5 minutes away from your house.

He pulled into your drive, you thanked him for the ride–and apologised again for the intrusion, and he said it was alright again–and you quietly crept into your room and into bed, plugging in your now dead phone to charge. You didn’t even get changed or take off your makeup–specially done for the night–you just slipped off your boots and fell onto your mattress. You fell asleep as soon as possible, being lulled into a slumber by the spinning ceiling above you–.

Even with your newfound contempt with Matty, you still practically jumped out of your skin when you woke up and checked your phone to see a text from him–or really texts. And your heart sank when you read them, all time stamped to about an hour after you’d left-

where r u

hello????

r u still here??

answer me!!!

i guess you left

some friend u r…

You wanted to talk to him, explain yourself–you couldn’t deal with the idea of Matty being cross with you, after all the effort you’d gone to, you didn’t want to lose him so soon. You figured he wouldn’t answer you if you called–it was far too early in the morning for him to be awake on a good day, let alone after a night of partying.

So you waited. All day. It was eating you so much inside until you just couldn’t take it anymore, so at about three in the afternoon you finally bit the bullet and called him.

It only dawned on you as you could hear the rings begin that you really had no idea what you were going to say to him. You were mad at him for leaving you alone at a party, but you also knew you should’ve at least sent him a message saying that you were leaving. You quickly weighed it all out and came to the conclusion that you were the one more deserving of an apology in the whole situation, just as he picked up the phone.

“Hello?” He sounded groggy, his voice was a little raspy.

“Hi…It’s me…”

“Hey…”

“I wanted to talk to you about last night.” You spoke slowly, you wished you’d have rehearsed it all in your head a little, you didn’t quite know how to approach it all.

Matty stayed quiet, you were about to speak again before he interjected. “How about I come pick you up? We can go get chips or something?”

You were surprised he even wanted to talk to you on the phone, let alone in person–you were sure there was a version of your conversation in an alternate universe where he declined the call the second he knew who was calling, and that would be the end of it all.

He drove to your house soon after, and texted you to let you know he was in the drive–not like any other times when he’d gotten out of the van to come and knock on your door. You climbed in and you made your way to the chip shop in silence.

You tried not to be too obvious about it, but you could hardly take your eyes off of him. His jaw was clenched, knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel as hard as he could, and his eyes were strictly glued to the road in front of him. You felt ill, he seemed so mad–you were just glad you were going to be talking in a public place. You were close to telling to pull over so you could hurl your guts up on the side of the road, but you made the journey just in time.

You sat without words, and individually ordered a meal each–silently. You wanted him to take the first step, he was the one that asked you to meet, he was the one who was truly angry–you were just dispirited by the whole thing at best, upset and fretful at worst.

After a few bites of your meals, Matty cleared his throat and began to speak. “I was worried about you…Didn’t know where you’d gone off to, I thought you got kidnapped or something.”

Was he really trying to spin this all as worry for you? “Well you left me alone at a party with a bunch of strangers. What were you doing, hey?”

Matty stayed quiet for a second, you could see the cogs turning. “That’s personal.” Anger was boiling up inside of you, his hypocrisy was astounding. “You should’ve at least told me you were leaving.”

“How, Matty? Was I supposed to go through the entire house and every room to find you?” You tried to keep your voice down, you were the only two in the shop and you knew Julie behind the counter was one hell of a gossip, but your patience was wearing thinner and thinner by the second.

“Well you could’ve at least texted me!”

“My phone was dead!”

“Well then why didn’t you just use Adam’s!” He roared. You sat in shock, you finally understood. Completely.

“I…” You were lost for words. “I didn’t know you’d be worried about me.”

“Well I was…” He was quieter now–he saw how you jumped when he yelled–now he was almost whispering. “I shouldn’t have…I didn’t even know Adam was there…”

“He was talking to a girl, Rebecca, and he saw I was looking for you. He made sure I was okay and got home safe.”

“I’m sorry.” He was looking you directly in the eye, as sincere as he could possibly be, and you believed him in his anguish.

“It’s okay.”

After the day in the chip shop, you and Matty were much more distant. It hurt, you couldn’t lie, but everything you did, spoke about, just didn’t fit like before. Every conversation went nowhere, every hangout–alone or with the rest of the guys–was awkward. You finished editing the final version of the music video and emailed it to the email chain between you and the band, you got no reply other than a thumbs up from Ross.

Contact got fewer and further between, until it eventually stopped. It wasn’t that you were overly shocked or surprised by it–you figured this would be the deal from before you even met with them–you were just disappointed. Disappointed that all the time you’d spent talking to them, especially Matty, and once you’d done what they asked, they abandoned you.

Your plan of action was just to go back to your life before Drive Like I Do, albeit begrudgingly. You put your focus back on your school work, and trying your damnedest to get out of your dead end town. And you found a way to get there, at least temporarily.

It was late one night, you were working on a school project when Chris barged into your room, the house phone to his ear.

“Yeah, she’s right here…Okay…Yeah, bye…” He handed you the phone with wide eyes, mouthing ‘Dad’. It put you in a state of shock. He’d never once called you before, you were worried a grandparent died or something.

“Hello?” You asked tentatively.

“Darling! It’s me! How are you?” He sounded overly cheery, it unsettled you.

“I’m alright–busy–I’m in Sixth now so I’ve had a lot of work to do…”

“I’m sure you’ll ace it!” There was an air of false positivity in his voice. Like he was lying. “Now, what I called about–” Of course there had to be something. “–I already told Chris, I’ve been thinking recently, and I’ve been wondering if you two would want to come down for the summer?”

You stuttered through a nonsensical string of half-words before he cut you off.

“You don’t have to give me an answer right now, talk to your mum first and sort out what you’re doing for the summer. But I’d love to see you both…”

“Okay…well, bye then,” you didn’t know how to talk to him, everything in your mind seemed so out of place.

“Bye darling, hope I’ll see you.”

You hung up, looking at Chris who was standing over you with a panicked expression.

“What the fuck?” was all you could conjure.

“I know!” He answered. “Who does he fucking think he is?!”

You let out a sigh. You couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him, he hadn’t seen his children since they were small and they could barely remember him. He moved away because of his work–you weren’t quite sure what he did, all you knew was he was required to relocate almost a four hour drive away.

“I think we should go…” You said.

“Why? Because he asked? After all this time?” Chris was mad, very mad. And rightfully so.

“Well he’s making an effort now, maybe we should give him a chance?”

Chris sighed and after a moment of thought, he spoke. “Fine. But I’m only going for you, okay? I don’t give a shit about him, but I don’t want you to get hurt from it all.” You hugged him. This was really happening. You could hardly believe that your father–an elusive figure your entire life–was actually trying to cultivate a relationship with you. There was a part of you that was mad, asking why now, but for the most part you were just elated that he decided on now rather than later. Before it was too late.

It was a quick process, Chris was the one to ask your mum and stepdad for the both of you–they had no objection. In fact, they were more than just neutral for you to go; Vern’s reaction surprised you, especially, he encouraged it, saying he was “glad Bruce was finally stepping up to the plate.”

After a couple of weeks of logistics, you planned for a three week stay, and your tickets for the train there and the train back were sorted. The closer it got to the day you were leaving, the less you could contain your excitement. You were practically counting down the hours until your departure–though now that you were back to your antisocial shut-in ways again, you didn’t really have much else to think about. You considered messaging the band, telling them that you were leaving for the beginning of the summer, but you decided against it in the end, you figured they couldn’t care less about you, and if they so desperately needed to know your whereabouts, Chris would–and probably already had–fill them in.

You were walking on air as your mum drove you to Manchester Piccadilly that Friday afternoon and guided you both to the platform. It was your first time travelling without her and she was a little worried you both wouldn’t know what to do.

Once Chris had managed to convince her that you both were safe on the platform and you’d be able to get on the train with no problem, she left–but not without a request for a text as soon as you take off and then again when you get to Cardiff, and again when you’d found your dad. It suddenly dawned on you just how significant this all was. You got a feeling in your stomach, a feeling that your life was about to change.

It was all you could think about on your journey–the whole three hours. You tried to calm down with the breathing exercises you’d been taught by your school counsellor but they only made you more aware of how shallow your breathing actually was and the vice-like feeling around your throat. Chris hardly noticed, he was far too interested in texting whoever was the flavour of the month.

And then it was time to get off the train, to a new city you’ve never been to and to stay with a man you can’t remember meeting. It was busy on the platform, you had a vague idea of what your father looked like from the one photo you had of him with you and your brother the last Christmas your parents were together, but that was years ago.

Through the bustling crowd, you saw a man. He was standing in the middle of the walkway, unmoving, with a sign with yours and Chris’ names on it. That had to be it.

You grabbed your brother’s arm and dragged him in the direction of the stranger. His eyes lit up as he saw the both of you come towards him–you were correct.

Looking at his face, you almost got a shock at how strikingly similar he looked to Chris–or more so how similar Chris looked to him, you should say.

“Hi…” He beamed. “Look at you both! So grown up!”

You both didn’t know how to answer, because there wasn’t really an answer. What were you supposed to say, “yes, that happens when you don’t see someone for over a decade”?

“Well, we best be off, it’s a bit of a drive out–you’ve got your bags?” He was smiling, but you could see his eyes were misty. You couldn’t blame him, of course, if this was a big moment for you, you could only imagine how he felt.

You walked out to the carpark and followed your father to his car–a bright yellow monstrosity–Chris called shotgun and everything felt like how a normal family should be, the younger sister stuck in the backseat with the luggage while the older brother got all the room he wanted in the front passenger seat.

Your dad told you both all about the small town on the outskirts of Cardiff, it was small and mostly quiet, but he liked it. You watched out the window as the metropolitan city slowly devolved into suburbs, before finally seeing the sign stating ‘Welcome to Llandough (Llanddochau Fach)’.

He lived in a small house near the town centre–so small, in fact, that you and your brother would have to share a room for the three weeks you’d be staying–a thought that honestly frightened the both of you.

By the time you’d settled, it was late, the sun was beginning to go down. Your father suggested dinner, there was a chip shop not far that apparently had the best chicken nuggets in Wales. You laughed to yourself, the idea that even miles away from home, there was still a chip shop down the road.

You could see it was empty when you pulled into the carpark. It was bigger than the chippy back home, with red tile floors and yellow vinyl chairs surrounding each table.

“Hi Mary!” Bruce said to the plump hairnet-laden woman behind the counter.

“Bruce! This must be the kids, hey?” She answered with a bright smile. “My! They’ve grown a bit since the photo you showed me!”

You all chuckled politely and sat down. Your father asked Chris about his uni work, and he was more than happy to explain every intricate detail of it. You didn’t really have much to include in the conversation, so you stayed quiet. You thought the chicken nuggets were alright–nothing to rave about, but then again, this was Wales.

You were more enthralled with your phone, a particular text you got from the one, the only–Matty.

so chris told me ur in wales?

It perplexed you. That he would even text you at all after weeks of complete and utter silence, and it would carry such a passive aggressive tone. You’d assumed that Chris would’ve told him where he was going for his summer, and that you were going with him. But that would be it–you’d just become a background character in their lives, someone who’d they know about but certainly not someone so intrinsic to them.

yea we r seeing our dad

You weren’t sure how you were meant to answer, you were treading in uncharted waters and there wasn’t exactly a guidebook on how to proceed.

You put your phone back in your bag–a problem for another time.

The first week went quickly, you spent most of your time at the house, simply getting to know your father. It was nice. You’d found he was extremely kind, and putting two and two together, you realised the idea you had in your head of some deadbeat dad was just a figment of your imagination. It wasn’t as simple as you thought, your parents’ divorce and him moving away. In any other context, your world would feel like it was crumbling around you–you knew yourself–but there was something comforting about the man you were getting to know.

Chris didn’t take a shine to him as much. He was friendly, and since your dad didn’t know him as well he couldn’t notice, but you could tell he wasn’t happy. He was short, and never actually spoke to him properly, just smalltalk.

On the second week, the bubble burst. Your dad had to spend the week at work so you and Chris were left alone to entertain yourselves. You tried to busy yourself with some passion projects you were working on just for fun, but it just wasn’t grabbing you. You needed a change of scenery, at least for a little while, and there was a park a few minutes walk away.

“I’m going for a walk,” you said to Chris, who was lounging on the sofa watching some random daytime program–a table talk with a bunch of middle-aged women. “I have my phone, won’t be long!”

You were halfway out the door before you got a ‘goodbye’ from your brother. It was a good day to be outside; sunny and bright, but not too hot, due to a slight breeze that just rattled the leaves in the trees along the street.

The park wasn’t busy by any means, only a young woman with a toddler–laughing a storm as she pushed him higher and higher on the swing. You laid down on a park bench, a shady spot underneath a tree. You closed your eyes and just breathed. It felt very therapeutic, you almost never had the time to do this at home, and if you did, you wouldn’t–there was a park close to your house, but it was generally known as ‘the place the local junkies hang out’, so it wasn’t exactly prime real estate for kids to hang out at on a day like today.

You just listened to the leaves rustling in the trees, the squeak of the chains of the swingset, the occasional passing car, until a voice broke your tranquil state.

“Are you okay?”

You cracked an eye open and saw a boy–about your age–with a shaggy haircut and a clunky set of headphones around his neck. He did look pretty worried, you could give him that.

“Yeah, fine…” You answered, sitting up–too quickly so you were dazed for a second.

“You’re…not Welsh?”

“No I’m not.” You probably shouldn’t have been as short as you were with him, but to be fair your head was still spinning a little. “I’m English.”

“So why are you here?” He sat down next to you. Very forward, the Welsh are.

“Why should I tell you?” You questioned.

He stuttered for a minute before finally getting out a coherent sentence. “No, I was just curious is all. We don’t get lots of English here.”

“I’m visiting my dad,” you answered. “If you must know.”

“Cool…” He said.

“Did you want something?”

“I was just wondering why there was a cute girl laying on my favourite bench.”

“Right,” you smiled.

“I’m Dylan, by the way,” he said. “In case you wanted to put a name to…the crazy guy who accosted you at a park.” You laughed.

You didn’t notice right away, but after the afternoon you spent with Dylan, just chatting and getting to know each other, you soon couldn’t stop thinking about him. Every afternoon you’d walk to the park where he’d be waiting at the park bench, and you’d spend hours talking about any and everything that came to your mind. It felt comfortable.

“I don’t want to intrude,” Dylan started. It was a cooler day, but the sunshine was warm so the both of you were laying on the grass out of the shade under your regular tree. “But I was wondering–” He sat up to look at you. “–do you have a boyfriend? Back in Manchester?”

You chuckled. “I couldn’t be more single even if I tried.”

“Good…That’s good…”

“What, my downfalls are good?”

“No, it’s just good because I was hoping I could kiss you.”

Your heart felt like it was in your chest. “Sounds very good to me.”

He swivelled towards you and leant towards you–you could hardly breathe. He put a soft hand on your jaw and kissed you gently.

Fireworks.

After a second he pulled away and your eyes opened again. You couldn’t stop the giggled that made its way up your throat and out your mouth.

“What’s funny?” He asked with a panicked tone.

“Nothing’s funny, just…” You sighed. “I couldn’t think of a better first kiss.”

#matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction

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slusheeduck · 8 months ago

Text

Party Favors

Hero.

That’s what everyone had called Falerin tonight.

“It’s our hero!” called as greeting as his glass was refilled again and again.

“I’m crafting an ode to our hero,” the bard, Alfira, had said with a cheeky little strum of her lute.

Hero hero hero. Fal had never thought of himself as a hero, truthfully. That’s not to say he hadn’t wanted fame—yes, his main reason for wanting to be a wizard had been for the magic needed to keep himself alive, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about the renown that would come with that level of power. If he lived, he might as well be some level of famous. A Falerin of Neverwinter situation, to take a leaf out of Gale’s book.

Hero, though. Falerin Glais, hero of the Grove. Much more swashbuckling—Wyll-esque, really—but he actually quite liked the sound of that, too. Maybe that’s how he’d get to live forever, through his deeds. It worked for Drizzt Do’Urden, after all. And if the tadpole helped him be able to do all this…

The thing in his head twitched, and he grimaced. No, no, that kind of thought needed him to be a lot less happy and a lot more sober. He shook it off, giving a smile to a passing tiefling who gave him a wink as he refilled his glass. This was no revel, not even close to one, but the atmosphere was similar—the joy and celebration giving way to hooded eyes and coy smiles.

Fal had done his rounds earlier, checking in with everyone save for two. Astarion, who looked as though he very much hadn’t wanted to be bothered as he stayed near his tent, a bottle in one hand and his book in the other. And their newest arrival.

Falerin glanced over to Halsin, trying to take a casual drink from his glass as he did and ending up with a good amount spilling out down the side of his face. He couldn’t say what it was, but he liked the druid. It was different than how he and Gale had clicked instantaneously, or how he and Karlach had, for all intents and purposes, pointed at each other and decided they were friends. It was that…comfort about being a little more wild than most. Very reminiscent of the fey, which was nicely familiar territory for Fal, but with a much more grounding, solid presence—it was as attractive as a pretty face.

Okay, and his biceps. His biceps also helped.

Fal wiped off the wine that had spilled down his cheek, laughing a bit to himself before he took a deep breath. The air was full of potential tonight, and…well. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. He refilled his glass, then made his way over to Halsin. The druid looked up immediately as he approached, and he chuckled as he looked him over.

“I see we’ve already had a casualty tonight,” he said, gesturing to the fresh stain of wine on Fal’s shirt. “But that’s one I’m glad to see.” He waved his hand. “But go on now, don’t waste a night like this talking to me. We’ll discuss your problem in the morning.”

Falerin bit his lip. How did he flirt? Had he ever actually flirted? That wasn’t how the fey worked, and with Astarion…well, he was much more flirted at than flirted with. Finally, he smiled and held up his glass.

“I’m not wasting my night at all,” he finally said. “I thought you…might want to have a drink with me.” There. Perfect. He was so good at this.

Halsin looked him over, then gave a warm smile before he shook his head. “In truth, I rarely imbibe,” he said, voice lowering like he was sharing a secret. Falerin leaned in without hesitation. “The stuff goes right to my head. Before you know it, I’d be breaking into song or…” He chuckled, gesturing to Falerin. “…declaring love to the first person I laid eyes on.”

Falerin’s breath caught. Was he flirting back? He must be. “That…that doesn’t sound so bad to me,” he said, his own smile widening. He was this close to twirling a finger in his hair and giggling.

“You haven’t had the misfortune of hearing me sing,” Halsin quipped back with a wink.

Falerin took another drink of wine, bracing himself. All right. In for a copper… “Perhaps there’s something else you’d rather do, then…”

Was that obvious enough? He tried to show off every bit of his intention in the words as he could, but this was so not his area.

Halsin met his eyes with a smile and, with a thrill of delight from Fal, his gaze traveled over the half-drow’s frame with something a bit more intense than a mere once-over. He wanted it too. Fal’s heart beat hard enough that, without the tadpole, he’d be worried about having an episode.

“I’m sure there are,” he rumbled. “You strike me as extremely…resourceful.” But, just as Falerin was about to throw himself right at the druid, Halsin sighed and shook his head with a smile. “But there are many grateful people here who want to spend time with you. I must not keep you all to myself.” His eyes flicked up to meet Fal’s odd-eyed gaze, the hazel of them warm and wanting. “As enjoyable as that may be.”

“They’re fine,” Falerin assured breathlessly, stepping closer. “I’ve spent time with them.”

Halsin’s eyebrows rose and, subtly but pointedly, he glanced over the warlock’s shoulder. As subtly as he could, Fal glanced back. To his great surprise, Astarion was watching them, fiddling agitatedly with the bottle in his hands. His expression was…not one that Fal could place, not at this level of drunkenness, at least. Desperate was the first word to come to mind. He seemed to realize Fal had looked over, and he immediately took a swig from the bottle, trying to look cool and disinterested as he had up to this point.

“He’s been watching you all night,” Halsin murmured. “And I’ve seen how you speak with him in the short time I’ve been with your party. I think you know where your attention should really go.”

Falerin swallowed, nerves returning in full force. He took a drink, shifting his weight back and forth for a moment as he tried to think of how to best phrase what had been gnawing at him. Instead of any eloquent answer, he blurted out, “I don’t think Astarion really likes me.”

Halsin looked surprised at that, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he crossed his arms, brows furrowing curiously. “You think he’ll turn down your advances, then?”

Falerin chewed his lip. “No,” he said after a moment of deliberation. “No, I don’t think he will. But…” He let out a sigh that was much sharper and louder than he intended. “I think…I think he feels…forced to, for whatever reason. Maybe because he feeds from me?”

“He feeds…?”

“Oh, he’s a vampire,” Falerin said with a casual wave of his hand. He paused, then quickly added, “A good one! He’s a good one. Only feeds on animals. And, you know, enemies. And me.”

Halsin blinked. “Well. Not the strangest traveling companion I’ve had…but up there,” he mused, then looked back to Falerin. “Do you like him? I suppose that’s another area to consider.”

Falerin let out a long sigh, shutting his eyes. “I like him so much,” he whispered. If he was any less drunk, it’d feel juvenile to say—like admitting a childhood crush—but now, there’s no small amount of relief in finally saying the words aloud. “I think he’s wonderful, and funny, and so good at what he does, and—I mean, yes, he’s gorgeous, he’s fucking beautiful, but everyone in this camp is beautiful…”

“I have noticed that, yes,” Halsin said mildly.

“But it’s so much more than that with Astarion for me. I see the way he looks at the night sky and basks in the sun and he’s so happy for those few moments and…” Falerin looked up, trying to find the right words. “I think, if he…if he had someone he could feel safe with…I think he’d just, I don’t know, blossom. Does that make sense?”

Halsin smiled. “Perfect sense,” he assured. “I have no doubt that you could be that for him. But do you want to?”

“So badly,” Falerin said without hesitation. “But I can’t…I can’t say anything like that. He’ll get all…sneery about it.”

“Then show him. There are too many ways for words to get tangled, in my opinion. It’s one of many things nature does better than people,” Halsin said with a little chuckle. He nodded back toward Astarion. “If you’re careful, if you’re slow, I think it’ll work. Like…approaching a cat you don’t know.”

Falerin nodded. He took a breath, then finished his glass and set it aside. He paused, looking up at Halsin. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For…letting me dump all that on you. I’m friends with the others, of course, but…”

“But you’re trying to keep everyone working well together, and matters of the heart make that difficult,” Halsin said with a knowing nod. “I know that all too well with my position.” He gave Falerin a warm smile. “We’ve a long journey ahead. I’m sure we’ll find plenty of time to talk on all sorts of things, and I look forward to it. For now…” He gestured for Falerin to get moving. The half-drow gave him a wide smile, then took a breath and made his way to Astarion’s tent as casually as possible.

Astarion, in turn, seemed to be equally casual in his acknowledgment of Falerin as he came up to him, but the warlock could see the tension melt from him as he approached. Relieved, if only for a moment. He leaned in, closer than he needed to, before Falerin could even greet him.

“You know,” he said, voice quiet, “I never pictured myself as a hero. Never thought I’d be the one they toast for saving so many lives. And now that I’m here…” He took a swig from his bottle, head lolling to meet Falerin’s eyes with total disgust. “I hate it. This is awful.”

Falerin snorted before he could stop himself, the tension from hyping himself up to have any sort of conversation with Astarion melting away as he laughed. “Really? Saving lives is awful?” he asked, still grinning.

Astarion jerked up the bottle in a half-shrug. “We killed some goblins to save some tieflings. The tally of lives didn’t change much.” He took a swig before sending what could only be described as a pout to Falerin. “And what do I get for all my hard work? A pat on the head, and vinegar for wine.”

Falerin grinned at him, and he pulled the bottle away to take a drink. It’s a heavy, rich red, dry and sharp. Reminiscent, really, of the vampire drinking it.

“See what I mean? Awful.”

Falerin shook his head. “We have definitely had worse,” he said, still grinning. “I think you’re just being difficult on purpose.”

“Me? Difficult on purpose?” Astarion scoffed. “Now I have to deal with shit wine and cruel warlocks. I’m starting to think I should have sided with the goblins.”

“I would’ve had to kill you.” Falerin took another drink. “Or you would’ve killed me, I suppose. Or, what if we killed each other at the same time?”

“How romantic. I assume we’re dying in each others’ arms in this morbid fantasy of yours. Though I don’t suppose…How would that work, if we were both dying?” Astarion suddenly waved his hand. “Look. All I want is a little fun. Is that too much to ask?”

“Were we not having fun just now?” Falerin asked.

Astarion looked up at Falerin from under his lashes. “Not the kind of fun I was picturing, darling.”

Falerin wet his lips and swallowed. Here it was. “So…so what is your idea of a little fun?”

Astarion rolled his eyes with enough force to send his whole body swaying. “By the hells. Sex, my dear.” He rested a cool hand on Falerin’s arm as he purred out, “A night of passion.”

“Ah.” Fal stared straight ahead, every possible thought crashing together in his head. “With me?” he asked stupidly, as if he hadn’t just agonized over this possibility with Halsin fifteen minutes ago.

“No, with Zevlor there. Of course with you.” Astarion’s hand traveled down Falerin’s forearm, clever fingers caressing his wrist as he leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper in his ear, “Let’s wait until things quieten down. Once the others are asleep, we’ll find each other.” Astarion’s lips brushed his ear in the barest hint of a kiss, and he pulled back with a smile. “I’ll see you soon, Falerin,” he purred as he finally drew his hand away and went back to his tent.

Falerin stood in place for a moment, balking. Okay. Okay. He was doing this, and he was going to do it right. Tempting as it was to just go with what Astarion was offering—a night of passion, a bit of fun, nothing more—he’d do his best to show that he could be safe with him. Foolproof.

But…maybe a few more hero’s toasts first wouldn’t hurt.

There was a clearing, not far from camp, that Falerin had been to a few times when the stress of traveling with six extremely strong personalities had been too much. He knew the others had been there, too, so instinctively, that’s where he had known he’d find Astarion. The party had already started dying down when he stole away, and it was quiet as he stepped into the space.

For a moment, he shut his eyes and just tried to calm himself, ignoring the amused chuckle in the back of his mind. Good for you seemed to be what his patron was saying. Glad to know she approved, though she’d likely be equally happy if he royally cocked up a moment like this. No…pun intended.

He looked up as he heard a rustle in the underbrush, and Astarion stepped out into the moonlight, pale skin practically glowing as he did. Falerin had gotten the odd glimpse of him here and there—quickly averted glances while bathing or changing, the sort of thing that was unavoidable when traveling with people for a significant amount of time. But this time, Fal let himself look.

He was beautiful, obviously. All lean muscle and angles, with just enough softness to make Falerin desperate to touch him. And clearly he knew it, with the way he practically posed in a moonbeam. Look at me, was the silent message. Don’t you want me? Of course you do.

Another giggle tickled at the back of his mind. Someone thought he was trying too hard. Falerin tried to shush her as best he could with his mind, then smiled as Astarion sidled over.

“There you are,” he purred out, hooded eyes locking on Falerin. “I’ve been waiting. Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you.” He reached out, finger lightly chucking under Falerin’s chin. “Waiting to have you.”

Oh no. Oh dear. The laughter in his head got louder, and a giggle bubbled out of him before he could stop it.

“You tackled me to the ground and held a knife to my throat!” he exclaimed with a loud laugh before covering his mouth. Astarion blinked, and the seductive poise suddenly evaporated.

“I…well, after that,” he said, suddenly cross. “Clearly.”

“When you said you were going to decorate the ground with my innards?”

Astarion huffed, arms crossing. “Look, if you don’t want to, I can find plenty of other people to spend the night with,” he said, almost petulant. “I bet that stuffy tiefling wizard wouldn’t have such cheek.”

Oh, no. There was still plenty of wine in Falerin, but he could still tell that he’d struck a bit of a nerve. He stepped up to Astarion, chancing to brush his fingers against his cheek. Astarion flinched automatically, and he pulled his hand back. “I do want to,” he murmured, leaning to meet Astarion’s eyes. “Gods, I want to so badly.” His mouth quirked up. “Would you believe that I have wanted you since you held a knife to my throat?”

Astarion looked up at him, and he sighed. “I would, actually,” he said. He took a breath, then smiled, bringing his hand up to cup Falerin’s cheek. The seductive switch was turned back on; fascinating to see, really, but it also sent an odd little twist in Fal’s stomach that wasn’t quite…comfortable. But Astarion tilted his head, red eyes locked on his as he smiled.

“And now, you have your chance,” he said, voice low enough to raise goosebumps on Falerin’s skin. “You’re here. And I don’t think you want to talk.” Before Falerin could say that he wouldn’t mind that, actually, he leaned in, lips brushing the half-drow’s and sufficiently stealing every possible reply as he murmured, “I think you want to be known. To be tasted.”

Falerin’s brain stopped, odd eyes wide as he stared up at Astarion. He swallowed hard, heart pounding in his ears. Then, voice barely able to get above a whisper, he asked, “What…do you want?”

Astarion’s smile widened, and his voice was pure sin as he dipped down to brush his lips against Fal’s jaw. “What do any of us want? Pleasure.” Open-mouthed kisses found their way down his neck, Falerin’s head tipping back obligingly as his breath hitched. “Yours. Mine. Our collective ecstasy.” He pulled back, smiling as he caught the flush on Fal’s freckled cheeks before he locked eyes with him again. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he asked, the promise of every pleasure in his voice. “To lose yourself in me?”

Falerin stared at him, lips parted and pupils blown. But even so…it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to be present, to be safe for him. Losing himself would just make him like all the others.

But how could he say that? A little laughter had thrown off Astarion, so imagine what an earnest declaration like that would do. He swallowed, brain trying to race with the admittedly low amount of blood it had to find a solution. He took long enough that Astarion tilted his head.

“Falerin?” he asked. “Are you having a…moment?”

“I want to have fun,” Falerin said in a rush. “That’s…that’s it.”

Astarion looked at him for a moment longer, and his mouth quirked up in an amused smile that almost looked genuine. “Then let’s have some fun.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fic #astarion x tav #bg3 tav #halsin #tiefling party #Casual Banter has 10k hits and almost 600 kudos and I'm having emotions about it #So have the most self indulgent of all self indulgences

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thezombieprostitute · 1 year ago

Text

Alphas & Algorithms - Part 9 - Plans

A/N: Continued from Part 8. Reader is female and is described as "tall". No other descriptors. None of this is beta read. All mistakes are my own. This is likely to be the last Part in this series but more on that in the A/N at the bottom. Serious thanks to everyone who's liked, reblogged, commented!

Warnings: It is a Dystopian AU. Discussion of ableism, bullying, families being separated, food scarcity, manipulation, non-consensual relationships, unwanted pregnancy. Please let me know if I missed any!

--Part 1--

--Series Masterlist--

“Why is everything going wrong this week,” Y/N yelled. “I’ve got way too much to do, not enough time to do it in, and everything is going wrong!”

“Sweetie,” Curtis cooed as he gently rubbed the back of her hand. “Let’s go through the list and see what options we have and what things are just out of our hands.”

Y/N stuck out her tongue, “why do you have to be so practical?”

“Because you like that about me.” Curtis gave her his best cocky smile which made her smile and calm down a bit. He’d really come to like cuddling with her on the couch. It was warm, intimate, comforting.

“...fair,” she conceded. “Okay. Okay. Your Pack has finished moving into their new housing and you said they seem to be settling in pretty well.” Curtis nods in affirmation. “For my heat, the food situation is taken care of. Jake will be temporarily moved to another floor but on call in case of emergency. But there’s a lot of stuff that hasn’t come in yet and my heat’s going to start any day now.”

“What’s the stuff we’re missing?”

“A lot of it is tea herbs,” she sighs. “We used up a lot of them teaching you to make the teas that help me out. No regrets, though. You’ve become quite the master at it. But I might not have as much as I need. The other item running late, though, is the collar. It’s very concerning to me that it hasn’t arrived yet.”

“Okay,” Curtis soothed, “what is the collar and why do you need it?”

Y/N whispers, “it’s needed so you don’t mark me.” She looks away, embarrassed, unsure of his reaction. It was another inequality between their designations, that he needed to be marked but she needed to remain unmarked. She’d been dodging the topic as best she could, unsure of how to broach the topic, but with her collar possibly not arriving in time for her heat, she had to have this talk with him. Curtis keeps stroking the back of her hand until she’s able to continue talking to him.

“Omegas need to stay unmarked to diminish possible bias in their scent abilities.”

“Possible?”

“There hasn’t been enough data to determine for certain that being marked affects an Omega’s abilities or biases so the AI will not risk it. I��m already on the AI’s high risk list because of my weird brain so I want to comply. I need to comply.” She starts rocking a bit and Curtis holds her while gently rubbing her back to soothe her. She brings her nose to his mating gland and focuses on the comfort of his scent until she calms down.

“Has the AI given a reason for why it hasn’t arrived yet?”

“No,” she whispers. “The AI says I received it but I clearly haven’t and there’s no protocol for getting a replacement, especially not this close to my heat. I feel like I’m going crazy! I’ve turned this place upside down trying to find it. I know neither you nor Jake got it. You would’ve asked about it by now and Jake swears he hasn’t seen it.”

“So it’s out of your hands,” Curtis assures. “Not to mention, I’d never hurt you. You don’t want to be marked, I won’t bite.”

“You say that now,” she chuckled. “But what about when I’m in the throes of my heat, you’re lost in your rut and I’m begging you to mark me?”

He contemplates before saying, “guess we’ll just have to trust each other.”

“I just don’t want to get…” she cries. “I don’t even actually know what the AI would do if I was no longer of use to it but I don’t want to find out. And then what if it affects you and your Pack? What if it gets Jake hurt?! There’s a lot of people who need me to be on the AI’s good side. And that’s not even counting all of the innocent people that I know Suzanne and Colin wouldn’t care about verifying their scents. Peggy, sure, but those two? How many people would–”

Curtis starts purring. Her emotions have been getting the better of her more and more as they get closer to her heat. Jake had taught him all of the techniques he and Constance had learned about. Curtis had even practiced some of them on the pups as they got used to their lives. He found himself really taking to the supportive role. He was an Alpha taking care of his Pack.

He was so focused on taking care of her, calming her, that it took him a minute to notice the change in her scent. Her warm, gentle vanilla scent was growing sweeter, delectable even. He felt his body reacting to the change and he gently pulled her face away from him with a small growl. “Sweetie?”

“Curtis,” she whispered, her eyes dark with lust. Y/N kissed him hungrily, needy for him. Curtis responded in kind before the first pains of her heat caused her to pull away, almost doubling over. “Curtis! Please help! It’s never hurt this much before!”

On instinct Curtis was helping her up and getting her to the nest, slowly undressing her and kissing her skin wherever he could. Just have to get her to her nest. Gotta focus on taking care of her. He thought he could control himself, based on his previous ruts. But just as she was hurting more than usual, he was feeling more wild than ever.

As soon as she laid down she whimpered, “please, Alpha. Please help me.”

Curtis froze. “Say it again,” he quietly growled.

“Alpha. Please. I need you.” And they lost control together.

Hobie’s plan was on track, but as much as he wanted to celebrate, he had too many moving parts to rest. He had a lot of communications to review and respond to. When he had first designed the spiderbots he knew he’d have to keep communications short and succinct. After all, a spider weaving a web is no big deal but a spider weaving a web with full paragraphs written in it? That would catch unwanted attention. The morse code helped and was usable across multiple mediums, but it was still constricting.

He’d already had to make a lot of adjustments to the original plan. Steve wanted to make sure his Pack was out of harm’s way and would remain blameless if anything went wrong. Jake wanted to make sure his friend would also be clear of blame. The solution to pair Curtis and Y/N was obvious, though the Betas had been uncomfortable with using their Packmates. Jake had made sure to get Curtis’s scent in the lineup for choosing and he was prepped to push her towards that one if a push was needed.

In exchange, Steve made sure Bucky and Nat got put into a specific cell block, next to each other. He’d also made sure their cells had some of their equipment. Jake made sure to do the small tweaks to the AI’s data that would allow for things like spiderwebs to be ignored. As well as the cell modifications Bucky and Nat were making (apparently Jake had plenty of evidence to convince the AI that bored humans would do all sorts of crazy things to not be bored). As long as they didn’t do too much at once, it wasn’t suspicious. He could trust those two to be patient.

Colin and Suzanne’s Betas confirmed they had the collar, convincing their respective Omegas it would be either a great prank or a way to get “Nil” out of their lives. Jake was still upset about that part of the plan, he didn’t want her to be at risk with the AI like that. Hobie would be the first to admit it wasn’t his proudest part of the plan, but he knew that showing the AI that a mated pair would get pregnant faster could be a big step towards quality of life for the Alphas in the tower. Y/N didn’t know she’d been laying down the foundations for that plan, helping Peggy to not conceive and pushing for courting and consent with her own Alpha. Jake confirmed the addition of fertility boosters in the food she and Curtis would be eating.

One of the communiqué webs he spotted was from one of the younger recruits, Morales. He was frustrated by how slowly things were going. Hobie chuckled, Everyone wants the big action hero revolution. But that’s what had doomed the previous attempts at freedom.

The first attempt tried the action hero thing, the military style coup, and it ended in disaster. Nothing but death and torment. The second attempt tried more of a subterfuge approach, messing with the AI’s core data directly. But they found out the hard way that doing so caused secondary protocols in the AI’s system to activate. Again, nothing but death and torment.

Hobie programmed his response spiderbot, Learned from past mistakes. Don’t rush. He hoped Morales would understand. Sometimes, to break the system, you need to pick away at the strengths before you can bomb the weaknesses and bring the whole thing down.

Tagging @every-username-is-taken-damnit, per request.

A/N2: This feels like a natural finishing point to me, and not just because it's similar to the original planned ending by part 2. Everyone's discussion about the chapters has given me enough ideas that I could do another arc if there's enough interest.

A/N3: Just in case I don't say it enough, thank you to everyone who's been reading!

#alpha!curtis everett #alpha!curtis everett x omega!reader #curtis everett x tall!reader #dystopia au #dystopian au #tall!reader

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revserrayyu · 7 months ago

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2.2 Penacony thoughts [part 1]

**Mild spoiler warning** in place as I didn’t reach that far into the new update as of yet. Stopped right after seeing Sunday being a holy man listening to the troubles of others, so if that scene doesn’t ring any bells, then please refrain from reading further. As always, don’t spoil anything that happens afterwards, not only for myself, but for anyone else who hasn’t finished the new story yet.

First things first, I’m so pleased that we start off with Boothill. It feels like it’s been forever since he was first drip-marketed and when we heard that phone call of his with Black Swan, so finally seeing him in game is pretty nice. Still love that design in his eye too.

I’m also happy that the jade abacus was brought up again. Once we saw DHIL & Jing Yuan team up in the 2.2 livestream trailer I figured that Dan Heng was gonna call upon our beloved general with this item. At present, I don’t know if it’s actually used or if we head to the Xianzhou instead and request for help. Either way, I’m a bit surprised the general lends a hand. Of course he’s an ally and promised to help us with any troubles, but.. last time we saw him, he had just encountered Luocha and Jingliu, right? Could Jing Yuan really have left that confrontation behind so easily? Are we ever going to learn about what happened during that conversation? Who knows, but I hope we find out one day if this story doesn’t mention the matter further.

Anyways, who do you think the Elation Emanator that Boothill is? Naturally, I first thought of Sparkle solely because of her “I AM Elation!” declaration during her character trailer and her being a Masked Fool, but seeing how Boothill is having issues accessing Penacony in the first place, I doubt the two have officially met. They could’ve met elsewhere, sure, but I still doubt it’s Sparkle. Still haven’t a clue on who else it could be though but whomever it is certainly can’t hold their liquor.

Then we cut to Acheron being cornered by a bunch of npcs who are apparently all part of the “Dreammaster,” but let me just say that I love how literal Acheron can be, like correcting how many slashes she actually used. It’s also a bit scary for her to mention, as I don’t even remember a second blade either.

She’s just.. ironically funny to me. Acting all threatening but being completely serious with her grammar.

It was humorous when we switched to Robin for the first time. I didn’t manage to get a screenshot of it but how the screen even questioned it like “switching to Robin’s POV?” was hilarious. And rightfully so because this certainly isn’t our beloved idol. Sparkle, please, stop handing out bombs to everyone!

It was a short switch, but we finally jump back to where we personally left off. I know the journey Firefly is referring to might be our time hanging out together in Penacony, but somewhere deep down I imagine it could also be about our possible time with the Stellaron Hunters before the entire story even happened. I’m sure we have some sort of past with them but who knows if and when we’ll touch upon that.

Firefly goes into detail about her actions, about how she informed Silver Wolf to contact us and the plan she wanted to share with us before “Death” acted out. I guess it makes the lies and secrets a bit more bearable? All according to the script and at least she originally intended to tell us everything before the monster lashed out.

Then we get scene with her and Blade and oh my god, they both look so good?? Learning that Blade actually owns a driver’s license is comical too. Who would’ve thought our edgy man could be so reliable.

I’m so thankful for this scene as it gives us a taste about how Firefly acts around the other Stellaron Hunters. Since the rumors about her being Sam started, I couldn’t imagine how this sweet girl could’ve been one of them, but it seems she gets along just fine, even teasing Blade a bit.

Now correct me if I’m wrong but this is actually a flashback that happens right before Kafka destroys the Jepella Brotherhood during that one Myriad Celestia trailer, yeah? That’s pretty cool. Confirms that Firefly has been here the entire time and Bladie is even wearing the same suit.

I never thought of a decent acronym for what Sam could really mean, but we finally got our answer: Strategic Assault Mech. Makes me wonder if Firefly is even her true name, since that also seems to be part of the suit’s name.

Rejoice, someone other than ourselves can actually see Misha and Clockie. Would’ve never guessed that person to be Welt though. I guess he really is a child at heart. I know he gets excited whenever mechs are involved, such as the Engine of Creation, but this also reminds me of how his E6 depicts him as a child.

It’s unsettling that Misha calls “Death” something so innocent as “Sleepie.” Also claims that the monster isn’t aggressive and sometimes fetches the wrong guests to bring here.. uh huh, right. Sure. But of course Gallagher controls it! I know we learn more about him during this patch but I still don’t trust him.

So it’s clear that Misha is still a giant mystery. It’s good that us and Welt can see him, but the kid still isn’t perceived by everyone here. That one pepeshi we found alongside March thought we were talking to someone invisible and it appears Micah and Himeko can’t see Misha either.

During that flashback with the siblings as kids, I sorta feel like Sunday is also talking about Robin here. I know we’re chatting about the injured bird they found, but all the caged bird metaphors that Robin has, from her splash art and trailers, is hard to ignore.

Then we learn Gallagher is a History Fictionologist that’s in charge of this new place, which is all fine and well I suppose? Great to know who he really is but chalk it up as yet another person who lied to us. Of course I don’t believe much of anything any non-Express family says but whatever. He’s using fancy words that went over my head.

And now it’s all started to make sense in my head. Inviting different parties that have experience handling stellarons or at least have capable means of preventing a disaster. The Express and the Stellaron Hunters themselves are an obvious and reliable choices when it comes to stellarons, the IPC certainly has impressive power if Aventurine is anything to go off of, and I don’t doubt the real Galaxy Rangers are strong fighters too. I’m sire Black Swan and Sparkle have some tricks up their sleeves too, as would Ever-Flame Mansion.. if they’re alive. Also, the fact that the meme is named “Dormancy”.. Ratio stated in his note to Aventurine that “Dormancy” was the impossible in the dreamscape instead of “Death,” but I figured he just meant it as the word’s true meaning, not referring to the monster itself. That’s clever.

Sir, don’t give me hope like this by saying you’ll fight with us. Do you know how many people are wishing for you to actually be playable?? I’d love it if he was, I’d even take him as a four-star at this point (even though he clearly has five-star energy) but something tells me he isn’t. He gives me Cocolia vibes a little, like he’s certainly an important figure but I would not be shocked if he turns on us somehow and ends up as a boss of some sort either.

Aventurine’s status is truly a mystery that I definitely need to know! Is our beloved gambler okay?? Preferably alive somehow?? It hasn’t been long but I miss seeing/hearing him in the story already! But I do love that the chip he gave is when we first entered our hotel room turned out to be a transmitter. I’m not sure if it’ll reach his place in that momochromatic world he’s in, but perhaps we can use it to call upon Topaz and the rest of the IPC chilling in the hotel lobby? After Topaz noticed one of the broken Aventurine stone pieces lost its shine, I can imagine that our gambler had several spare transmitter chips to hand out to those he can depend on.

Stuff happens in a quick cutscene and we climb up many stairs to encounter another Nameless who has certainly seen better days. He sorta looks like that one white-haired dude on that new light cone that they showed briefly during the 2.2 livestream. And since it isn’t much of a spoiler anymore considering the official HSR yt channel already put out a video on it.. yeah, harmony hat.

Pfftt there’s something so funny to me about hearing Himeko call that fierce monster who has already “killed” several people a mere pet. Show no fear mother!

I absolutely LOVE that this man canonically can’t swear! They can switch all the words they want but I know exactly what Boothill wishes to say and it is hilarious. This quirk alone makes me want to pull for him.

My memory isn’t the greatest, but this shot made it so clear for me to remember that the Forgotten Hall mirror is a sort of Garden of Recollection thing, so having Black Swan appear from it was simply perfect.

The girlies working together once again, oh my~

After the things you personally witnessed sweetie, I’m glad you think so. Gotta love strong women!

Whose?? The only relics that come to mind are the Ashblazing Grand Duke set which I’m fairly certain isn’t what Acheron is referring to. I only thought of it due to the memes about how she killed him and turned him into said relics.

There’s another cutscenes with Acheron and that old dude we heard last patch, but I don’t remember much aside from him reminiscing about his companions once being Galaxy Rangers and more chatter about Nihility. This scene however, with Sunday looking all handsome and holy.. OH BOY. He’s gorgeous with the light shinning on him like that. I feel blessed to have witnessed such beauty.

I never thought of him to actually listen to people’s sins, but it suits him rather well. Doesn’t seem like most people recognize him doing so either? Aside from this one pepeshi of course.. either that, or everyone clearly respects Sunday too much while this person could care less on how to act around him. I was gonna make fun of the merchant for having such trivial sins, but if you’re living a life where that’s all you have to worry about, then sign me up.

The confession isn’t all fun and games though as some disbelief about the Family is brought up. Yet another reason for me not to completely trust this holy hot handsome man yet. Looking forward to continuing more later tonight.

#honkai star rail #boothill #acheron #firefly #blade #misha #gallagher #sunday #black swan #gameplay #revs rambles

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multiplicity-positivity · 1 year ago

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Sorry if this ask gets broken or send more than once, tumblr likes to crash on my phone a lot oops!

Anyhoo, any advice for creating a headmate?

We're a traumagenic system, so we never had any control over when we split new headmates. But I'm a fictive of someone who's a twin and I really miss my brother and would really really love it if he could join us in the headspace, I think he would really like my headmates and they would be very receptive of him <:) I talked to the others about it and they said they think its okay for me to try as long as we do so in a healthy way.

But I dont know how to split a new headmate in a healthy way. Im obviously not going to purposely put us through stress and/or trauma to encourage a traumagenic formation, that'd be unhealthy. BUT I dont know how to help form a headmate in a non-traumagenic way... Do you have any advice or tips? I know theres lots of ways to willingly form new headmates, but I dont really know how to utilize them.

Thank you so much in advance!!

Hi! This is pretty tricky, and in general we’d advise traumagenic systems to make sure they’re in a safe place/have made significant progress towards recovery before attempting to create a headmate. There’s a lot of ways something like this could go very wrong if proper care is not taken! That being said, you do know yourself and your system better than anyone else! So if you and your system believe attempting to create a headmate is the right thing to do and the best move for your system, we’re wishing you the best of luck, and have some resources we can share.

All of the best resources we’ve found so far we’ve compiled in our resources post for questioning systems.

That post ^ has a whole section for plurality that is non-dissociative disorder specific, with tons of links to guides and resources on how to go about creating a headmate. The paromancy (called “tulpamancy” in the links) guides are probably the most comprehensive, with tons of information on creating a paro/thoughtform, which is a type of nontraumagenic headmate.

Y’all might also find it easier and less high-stakes to visualize this person as an imaginary friend or an aspect of your headspace. Lots of systems have NPCs in their headspace which have limited autonomy, but aren’t actually full-fledged system members. You can visualize an NPC in the same way you visualize a setting or object as a part of a headspace - we have a little headspace primer which we’ll link below which might help if you choose to go this route!

If you start out with this potential headmate as an imaginary friend, and they ultimately start to feel like a part of the system, there’s a term for that! It’s called imagi, and you can read a bit more about it on Pluralpedia:

Hopefully this helps at least give you somewhat of a starting point! And if we may, a final word of caution:

Creating a headmate is a big deal. Often this is something that will last forever, and cannot be easily reversed. What is so so important to understand, is that once this headmate can think for themself and are afforded some autonomy and agency, they may make decisions or choose to be something that no one in your system ever would have anticipated.

This means thy may want to separate from their source. They may not act, look, or view themselves the way the twin from your source would have. They may not arrive with source memories, and may not see themselves as your twin at all. In many systems, headmates act and function as their own individuals, and feel happiest when they have their own agency and get to make choices about how they present and interact with the world. This means, there is a chance that any headmate you create won’t live up to the standards you’ve set for them beforehand. We’re not saying this sort of thing will happen 100%! But there definitely is a chance of this occurring, so it’s best to be prepared in case it does.

In the end, this is your choice and a choice to be made by your system! We just hope y’all are understanding the consequences of doing something like this, and know that no matter how you envision your new headmate at the beginning, there’s nothing certain that will keep them that way as they grow and develop on their own. We hope your potential new headmate will be understood, valued, and respected for who they are as they are, and not who others hoped for them to be!

Sorry this got so long! Good luck with everything! We hope this process goes as smoothly for you and your system as it can!

🌸 Margo and 👻 Ghost

#long post #nontraumagenic #headmate creation #created headmate

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arthropod-concoctions · 11 months ago

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My @mcytblrholidayexchange gift for @salty-seasick! I had a blast writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it! Can be read on AO3 or below the cut:

Relationship: Etho/Bdubs

Characters: Etho, Bdubs

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Gender Identity, Trans Male Ethoslab, Coming Out, Hugs, Banter, Anxiety/Comfort

Summary: Angel and Echo may be the most powerful superheroes around, but they do have a life beyond that as well. Sometimes Echo wishes he could forget his personal life. Sometimes Angel wishes he could forget his heroic life. At least they have each other.

Note: the character called Sunny at the start of the fic is Etho.

~ * * * ~

“I think my superhero alter ego should be a guy,” Sunny said, sitting on the couch with her legs folded underneath her.

“You- really?” Bdubs was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, looking at the paper where he was sketching outfits for the two of them, but he looked up to reply to Sunny. “What makes you say that?”

“For anonymity, you know?” she replied. “If the new superheroes on the block are a guy and a girl, everyone’s gonna be looking for a guy and a girl, and someone might realise it’s us. But if it’s two guys, we’ll never be suspected.”

Bdubs let out a surprised laugh, but nodded. “Okay. You know what, that’s actually pretty smart. Sure.” He grabbed another paper, this one with two lists of bullet points, and added another point to one: “`Sunny: superhero is a man.’ Wonderful. Uh, do we have to change your outfit as well then?”

“Let me see,” Sunny replied, leaning over Bdubs’ shoulder to look at the designs. “No, I think that’s still good.” The design of the outfit had some of her hair poking out, but that wouldn’t be a problem; her hair was quite short already. She liked it that way, it was just more convenient. And the outfit didn’t show much skin; for anonymity, and to prevent from accidentally touching something she shouldn’t while using her power. If she played her cards right, maybe used a voice modulator, no one would suspect that the hero might be a woman.

“Good.” Bdubs said. “Alright, next point: names. Any ideas?”

“Hmm…” Sunny thought. “Something like Ecto? If I’m going to be phasing through things, like a ghost…”

“Ecto…” Bdubs was quiet for a few seconds, then snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it! Echo! Hear me out. I’ll be Angel, because I have the voice of an angel, and you’ll be that voice’s echo. I’ll use my singing, and then when they least expect it, you’ll show up and give them a beating. Angel and Echo.”

“Right, I see,” Sunny said, smiling and leaning back. “I’ll be secondary to you, just the way you want it.”

“No- I- no, of course not!” Bdubs laughed, and moved onto the couch, wrapping his arms around Sunny. “I’m sorry. Come on, Sunshine, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Bdubs, I think the jury’s still out on that one…” Sunny laughed, then returned Bdubs’ embrace, putting her head on top of his. “I’m just kidding. Of course you didn’t mean it. You’d never say mean things about me, would you?” she asked, sarcasm lacing her voice.

“I never say mean things,” Bdubs agreed, and then they just sat for a moment, enjoying each other’s touch. Until Bdubs spoke up: “Just two superhero dudes hanging out.”

Sunny burst out laughing, and pushed Bdubs off of herself. “Come on, dude, you ruined the moment!” she said.

Bdubs laughed too. “I have to get some practice in, you know? If y- if Echo’s going to be a guy, I have to really get that in my head.”

“Just Echo, not me. I mean, if you start treating me like a guy in person as well, that defeats the whole point!”

“Of course, of course.” Bdubs sighed contentedly, the laughter finally wearing off. “You and me, Echo and Angel. We’re gonna make a great team.”

- - - -

Echo sat on the roof of an apartment building, watching the sun rise over the city- over his city. His and Angel’s debut as superheroes a year ago had been a resounding success, and their corner of the city had never been safer. When something did happen, the two of them jumped to the chase, smoothly executing the tactic Bdubs had laid out for them back then: he would take their attention, distracting and potentially soothing them with his voice, and Echo would phase in from behind and knock them out. It was still a bit of a weird strategy to Echo. Bdubs insisted that his singing had an effect, that it was an essential part of the plan, but it barely seemed to slow their enemies down after the initial confusion. Whenever he sang to Echo, he couldn’t feel any effect either, but Bdubs always said he was simply holding back. Still, it seemed a little fishy to Echo.

I keep calling him Bdubs even when thinking about his hero persona, he thought to himself. I really shouldn’t do that. Not when I keep calling myself Echo instead of-

Well, that was the other weird thing. He- she- Sunny never called herself Sunny anymore. When alone, she wore Echo’s outfit whenever possible. When with other people, every time she noticed somebody looking at her, she just wanted to disappear, to phase out and maybe come back looking different. Every day, Sunny’s first thought was what he was going to do as Echo, rather than what she was going to do as Sunny.

The plan that Sunny had made a year ago was clear. To be a man as a superhero, and a woman in everyday life, to draw suspicion away from herself.

He’s afraid it might have backfired spectacularly.

Well, I’m gonna need a new name again, he thought. Obviously he couldn’t start calling himself Echo to his friends and family as well. He thought back to the day when they were brainstorming superhero names. ‘Ecto’ was the name that popped into his head back then, was there anything he could do with that? It was very similar to Echo, but maybe he removing the `k’-sound would help. Etto, Eto…

Etho?

“Etho,” he said to himself, slowly. It had a nice ring to it. He tried again: “Hello everybody, my name is Etho…”

A smile crept onto his face. It was a very good name.

He phased out, becoming completely invisible and intangible to the outside world, then began descending through the walls the building. He kept his eyes closed as he did so, careful not to look inside the other residents’ apartments. After a minute, he’d ended up back in his own apartment; he opened his eyes, and phased back in, feet thumping the ground as if he’d jumped.

After taking a quick shower, Etho got dressed in his usual getup; sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a comfy jacket. He’d always valued comfort over fashion, a preference which had gotten stronger over the years; in hindsight, that was probably because he’d been looking at the wrong fashion.

I should probably go shopping for new clothes soon, huh? he thought to himself. He wasn’t quite sure what to do, to be honest. Should he tell Bdubs about his decision immediately? This seemed like the kind of thing you had to think about for longer than one morning before going around telling people. Not to mention his relationship with Bdubs… probably wouldn’t be the same. He hadn’t fallen in love with a guy, after all. But then, would acting like nothing’s changed be any better? Maybe-

Suddenly, he heard a pounding at his door. He jerked around in surprise to look at it; he rarely got visitors, and that didn’t exactly sound like a friendly knock. Had he pissed off his neighbours somehow? Now he heard a rattle; someone was messing with his lock. That worried him; he put Echo’s gloves back on, just in case there’d be a fight, then opened the door.

Bdubs stood on the other side of it, his copy of the apartment key in his hand. He jolted in surprise when the door opened. “You are awake!” he said.

“Yeah, I’m awake. What the hell are you doing, man? Did you…” he trailed off, taking a good look at Bdubs now. He seemed to be out of breath, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was shaking. “Wait, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Never better. Can I come in?”

Etho stepped aside, letting Bdubs enter. “Are you being chased? Do we need to fight somebody?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m not being chased. Not anymore. Not yet, I mean.” Bdubs walked over to the couch, and collapsed onto it. Despite his prior statement, he was clearly not feeling well.

What? “Okay…” Etho felt a stab of nerves in his chest. He sat down next to Bdubs. “You know, it’s actually pretty good that you came over. We need to talk.”

“Yeah. We do,” Bdubs said.

Etho instantly regretted that statement. The thing he was going to say suddenly didn’t seem nearly as important as whatever Bdubs was dealing with. “…Uh, should we maybe go visit the doctor’s? You-”

“No!” Bdubs interrupted Etho, grabbing his wrist. “We’re not going outside today, alright?”

Etho removed the hand from his wrist, and took a deep breath. Bdubs was making him nervous. Usually he was the paranoid one, and Bdubs was the one that gave him confidence; how the hell was he supposed to deal with this? “That statement doesn’t exactly make me more confident in your good health, Bdubs.”

“Look, Etho, I need you to tr-”

They both froze. What on earth? “How did you-”

Bdubs snorted. “Uh oh,” he said. “I’ve just messed up, haven’t I?”

“You…” Etho was flabbergasted. “Well, you did something, that’s for sure! How- I’m gonna need some explanations here.”

Bdubs closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. “Right. Explanations. It’s probably about time, huh?” “So, you know how I always say that my superpower is singing?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s nonsense. It has nothing to do with singing, that’s just a distraction. Really, it’s… I get nightmares.”

“Nightmares?” Etho said. “Okay.” That didn’t explain how he knew his name.

“I get nightmares that tell me exactly how I’m going to die that day.” “`nightmare’ isn’t the right word, really,” he continued. “Honestly, they might not even be dreams. Nothing unnatural happens in them, it’s just regular life. And then something- or someone- comes along and kills me. Or, in this case, kills us.”

“Oh,” Etho said softly. He grabbed Bdubs’ hand. “Why haven’t you told me about this earlier?”

“You would’ve laughed at me.” Bdubs looked at the wall as he spoke. He was still shaking. “A guy gets a bad dream every now and again, and thinks it’s a superpower?”

Etho shook his head. “I would’ve believed you.”

Bdubs turned to look at him. “Would you really?”

He didn’t respond immediately. Truth be told, he would probably be skeptical of this story, had Bdubs not started it by saying Etho’s name before he could reasonably know it. But Etho was skeptical of everything. If he decided he couldn’t even believe Bdubs, what would he do then? “I would have trusted your judgement,” he eventually said.

Bdubs didn’t respond immediately. He didn’t seem convinced, but eventually he spoke up: “Alright. Thanks, S- Etho.”

Suddenly, Etho felt another spike of anxiety in his chest. Right. Guess there was no postponing that conversation now. Bdubs chuckled weakly, apparently not seeing the worry on Etho’s face. “Boy. This was supposed to be your day, and I’ve really gone and made it all about me, huh?”

“I mean, we can keep talking about you if you want. I know you like to do that,” Etho said. “So, nighmares, huh? Can you tell me how exactly-”

“No.” Bdubs cut him off. “Listen, I… I really don’t want to talk about it. Not while it’s still… fresh.”

“Oh,” Etho replied quietly. He berated himself internally. Of course Bdubs wouldn’t want to go into details about their deaths. “Looks like we’re at a stalemate then,” he said. Because, truth be told, he didn’t want to talk about himself either right now. Actually, he kind of wanted to phase out and run off into the distance somewhere. Dream-Etho had made a mistake telling Bdubs, he must have. There was no way-

“Etho, I can see your mind freaking out just by looking at you,” Bdubs said, looking Etho in the eyes and smiling gently. “Come on. You really think I’m gonna stop loving you ‘cause you’re a guy?”

Etho let out a strained half-laugh. “I mean…”

“No!” Bdubs grabbed Etho’s hand with both of his, and leaned in closer to him. “I didn’t fall in love with you just because you were a girl. I fell in love with you because you were thoughtful, and smart, and competent, and had nice hair, and were you. And if a guy has all that, if a guy is you, I’ll love him just the same. C’mere.”

Bdubs wrapped his arms around Etho, who’s shoulders dropped as he reciprocated. He hadn’t even noticed he’d been tensing them. Etho leaned forwards as well, putting his face on Bdubs’ shoulder. Bdubs’ mouth was right next to his ear, so he heard him whisper: “And this isn’t the nightmare-brain talking. I said this exact thing the first time.”

Etho opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out. He was shaking- or maybe that was still Bdubs. Maybe they were both shaking, and their relative moods would cancel each other out if they just held each other tightly enough.

Then, after a minute or so, Etho’s stomach rumbled. He lifted his face up again and slowly, reluctantly, let go of Bdubs. He suddenly felt a tear running down his face.

Etho chuckled as he reached out and wiped the tear off of his face. “You haven’t eaten breakfast either, huh? We should probably get on that.”

Etho giggled quietly. He was still a bit shaky, but feeling infinitely better than before the hug. “Wait, you left the house before eating breakfast? Wow, you must really be messed up today.”

Bdubs grinned, his typical wide grin which fit his bloodshot eyes remarkably well, in a weird way. “Yeah. That proves it, huh?” he said, and then got up to walk to the kitchen.

Etho followed him, and grabbed two bowls to put cereal in. As the two of them were preparing their breakfast, Bdubs spoke up again: “You know, there’s something else I feel like I should say, about this.”

Etho froze, holding a spoon in mid-air. “And what’s that?”

“I saw this coming a freaking mile away.”

Etho laughed, dropping his spoon and turning to look at Bdubs. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah!” Bdubs said, laughing as well. “I mean, come on. The love of your life, who has a boy haircut and only ever wears hoodies says ‘hey, I want to be a boy, but only as a superhero!’ and- you know, I wasn’t born yesterday!”

Etho continued laughing. “I guess the signs were there, huh? Although you figured it out before I did if that’s true.” He chuckled. “Maybe you saw it in a dream, just like…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, and neither did Bdubs. Etho sighed. He had to say something, or this would eat at him. “Look, I know you didn’t want to talk about it but… if somebody if this city was going to kill us, I want to know as much about them as I can.”

Bdubs looked at the ground, and didn’t respond immediately. “I just- can we talk about it later? When my brain isn’t all messed up. Right now I just wanna… watch a movie, or something.”

“I don’t know if I can-”

“We started it,” Bdubs interrupted him. “We started the fight. That’s the important part. He’s not gonna come to us if we just… happen to stay inside today.”

Etho nodded. “Alright.” He tried to banish the worry from his mind. Taking a rain day would probably be good for their health regardless, honestly. “So what movie were you thinking?”

Bdubs shrugged.

“The A-Team?” Etho suggested.

“Oh, god. Just because you’re a dude doesn’t mean your taste in movies has to get worse, Etho.”

Etho snorted. He finished making his cereal, then moved back to the couch with Bdubs.

As Bdubs was flipping through channels on the TV, Etho stretched his arms, then laid one of them around Bdubs’ shoulder. “You know what, Bdubs?” he said. “We really are just two dudes hanging out now.”

“We are!” Bdubs responded, leaning his head back into Etho’s arm. “Two dudes. Etho and Bdubs. We can take on the world, you know.”

Except for what you saw in your dream… Etho shook his head. They were in mortal peril as superheroes all the time. They could take one day off from worrying about that side of their lives. For now, Etho was content to enjoy himself-- really enjoy himself, as he’d never been able to in his life—and enjoy Bdubs’ company.

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