#i woke up out of nowhere at seven in the morning with his speech playing in my head over and over again

[bittersweetresilience]

so do you think he succeeded?

[damnthoseyes]

Felices Los Cuatro

A/N: This is long af so..buckle up kids. This is a very on time submission to @cieloxcnco ‘s 1000 followers writing contest. Hope it was worth the wait. Spoiler: it isn’t. As always, please do let me know what you think.

Warnings: drinking (lots of), swearing, smut. You’ll live.

Words: 5k+

Si conmigo te quedas o con otro tu te vas, no me importa un carajo porque se que volveras

Four months, two weeks and two days.

Not that I’m counting.

Four months, two weeks and two days since I stood in the airport and watched the man of my dreams get on a plane. Without me. I begged and pleaded for more time but he had to go. He’d been in this country for years but visa regulations required him to go back home to reapply so he could stay.

I loved him. At least I think I did. But if I had, I would’ve gone with him, right? I should’ve dropped everything to be with him. But I couldn’t.

When he sat me down and told me what was going on, my heart broke. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. But when he asked me to go with him, for however long it would take, everything in me said no. So that’s what I told him. My family is here, my friends are here, my job is here; I couldn’t just leave.

By the time the day came around, I was ready to get on that plane with nothing. As much as I loved him and wanted him around, we came to the conclusion that we had to break up. Long distance just doesn’t work. If he decided to come back to me and our feelings were still there, we’d see what happens. Until then we were better off apart.

After a month, he had decided to stay back home and wasn’t coming back.

I felt like a shell of a human. I was upset, angry, regretful; one of everything in the negative column. So I did what everyone does. A couple of weeks of partying, sleeping with random guys and drinking myself to sleep got me nowhere (as expected), so I threw myself into work. Early mornings, late nights and migraines are just the distraction I need.

After one particularly ruthless day consisting of four pointless meeting, a never-ending inbox and the to-do list that just kept on giving, I got a message from a friend of mine telling me he was extremely bored at work and that if I wanted a drink I should come by. Said he could use the company. At that point I deserved one. Or twelve.

I walked into the restaurant, took off my jacket, threw it over a stool and slumped over the bar.

“How was work?”

I groaned loudly into my arms, keeping my head down.

“How bad was it?”

“Bad.”

“You poor thing.” The sarcasm in his voice was palpable. “The usual, babe?”

“Yes.”

He rubbed my head and shuffled some bottle around.

“Rough day at the office?”

My eyes widened when I heard this new, accented voice. I lifted my head and moved the hair out of my face, locking eyes with the man beside me waiting for an answer.

“You have no idea.” I glanced over at my friend pouring vodka into a shot glass and tipping it into a larger tumbler.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” His eyebrows were raised and his accent was making me weak. They always did.

I put my elbows on the bar and leaned forward. “If I start, I’ll end up complaining for three years. I think I’ll spare you.”

He smiled and looked down at his hands. “I feel that.”

“Didn’t have a great day either?”

“Not exactly.” He patted the stool in between us and I lifted myself into it, turning to face him.

“Wanna drink it away?”

He smiled and looked down as a tall glass on a coaster was placed in front of me. I mouthed a thank you and turned my attention back him, lifting the glass and taking a sip. He smirked, turned away and asked for a Jack and coke. “I’m Chris by the way.”

I extended my hand and introduced myself. He shook it and raised the glass that had just been put in front of him. We clinked and just started talking. I told him about my day, trying not to unload too much on a complete stranger. He told me he had just moved here and was meant to be having dinner with some friends but preferred the conversation he was having here. Less pretentious.

One drink turned into three, which turned into five and Chris wasn’t holding up so well. A friend of his came to the bar, telling him they were leaving and asked if he wanted a ride. He told them he’d be alright and wished them a good night. I have to admit, it felt kind of nice.

By drink number seven, it was obvious to both me and my friend that Chris had had enough. His speech was slurring, he was giggling at every little thing and what was coming out of his mouth could only be defined as complete nonsense.

“Time to take our little friend home I think.” The bar was closing and there were only a couple of people left in the restaurant so we would have to leave soon anyway.

I put my jacket on and helped Chris into his, said goodnight to my friend and stumbled out into the cold street. I asked him where he lived but he refused to give me an answer, saying he didn’t want to go back, that the night was young and so was he.

“You’re drunk, dumbass. I think the night is over.”

He waved a hand in the air and started clicking his fingers. “What’s that phrase? It’s not over until… the fat lady sings?” He smiled triumphantly, thrusting a fist into the air.

I raised an eyebrow and sang a note. “There, night’s over. Gotta go home now.”

He held my shoulders and looked me in the eye. “You’re not fat, it doesn’t count! Let’s find another bar!” He bit his bottom lip and stumbled as he tried to turn away. I barely caught him, stopping him from landing on the hard concrete.

I swore under my breath and got him upright, told him I knew a place and that he should follow me. We walked for 15 minutes to my apartment on the other side of the city. The cold air had sobered him up a fraction and his sentences were slightly more coherent.

“This is not a bar.” He whined when we stopped in front of my building.

“No, but I have booze. Come on.”

I unlocked my door and turned some lights on, ushering him in and locking it again behind him.

“Nice place,” he looked around, his mouth slightly agape. Small trinkets from my travels littered every flat surface that wasn’t a dining table or a bench. His eyes skated over photos of landscapes on the walls, snow globes by the TV, and the mini eiffel tower by the window, but the elephants on the coffee table caught his attention. “Who are these bad boys?”

I shot him a quizzical look and giggled. “Dante and Aristotle.”

He stopped playing with the figures and met my eyes. “Are you serious?” I nodded and he smiled, turning his attention back to the metal figures. “Where’d you get these?” His ringed fingers glided over the detailed indents, down the trunk and over one of the ears.

“India.” I hung my jacket by the door and went behind the bench, looking for some glasses.

He perked up. “What’s India like?”

“Amazing. Dirty. Colourful. Slightly dangerous. Beautiful.”

He stood up and tilted his head. “A mixed review?”

I shrugged. “I loved it there but it wasn’t exactly how it’s depicted in Bollywood movies.” I handed him a glass of water while he nodded knowingly. He smelt the top and pursed his lips, meeting my eyes. “Come on, you have to have something better than this.”

I shook my head slowly. “Chris, it’s super late and I have to work in a few hours. You won’t tell me where you’re staying and I’m not gonna leave you out in the street in the state you’re in. I’d like to get a tiny bit of sleep instead of babysit the drunk.”

He checked the time on his phone and his eyes widened. “Shit, how is it 1.30 already!”

“Magic. Come on, you can have my room.” He raised his eyebrows and smirked at me. I raised my finger and shook my head. “Not a chance.” I turned away and walked down the hall, turned on the light in my room and went over to the desk to get my pyjamas.

He walked past me, placed his glass on the bedside table and sat on the bed, bouncing a couple of times.

“Make yourself comfortable, love.”

He fell backwards and stretched his arms out. “It’s nice here.”

“Yeah, I like it.” I walked to the bathroom, removed my makeup and changed before walking back into the room to drop off my clothes.

Chris quickly got up and took my arm while I was tossing my outfit into the laundry hamper. “This isn’t right. You should stay here, I’ll sleep on the couch.” His accent got heavier as he spoke, the drowsiness evident. His hair fell into his face and he shook his head to the side forcefully.

“It’s fine. My couch is not the most comfortable place in the world, not appropriate for a guest. Trust me. Goodnight, Chris. Sleep well.”

He raised a hand and held my cheek, running his thumb along my cheekbone. “Goodnight, preciosa.” He kissed my cheek and I smiled slightly before closing the door behind me.

By the time I woke up again and got ready for work, he was still asleep. I left a post it note on the mirror in the bathroom saying “Coffee is in the pantry. Pain killers are in the first drawer on the left. Let me know if you can’t find anything” and left my number.

When I came home later that evening, my immediate instinct was to eat. Nothing like dealing with idiots to work up an appetite. My phone rang while I was making dinner, interrupting my musically induced daze. Throwing a tea towel over my shoulder, I went to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Chris!”

“Chris?”

“...from the bar last night?” His voice trailed off.

I paused enough to tease, trying to conceal my laugh at the desperation in his voice. “Oh right! Super tall, blonde, Swedish cutie, right?”

“Ha ha.”

I let out a giggle and ran my fingers through my hair. “Hi Chris.”

“Having fun there? I thought I called the wrong number.”

“Mehh, a little bit.” I couldn’t help but smile when I heard him laugh into the phone.

“What are you doing?”

I moved back over to the stove and stirred. “Making dinner. What are you doing?”

“Looking for somewhere to eat. And I think I just found a KFC.” He sounded so amazed.

“KFC? No! There are hundreds of amazing restaurants in the city and you’re gonna go to KFC?”

“It’s good though!”

I groaned as loudly as I could into the microphone. “No, Jersey! Find something else!”

He laughed so loudly I had to pull the phone away from my ear. “Ok, ok, listen, I found this bar, not too far from your place. Wanna meet me there in about an hour? I’ll buy you a drink, thank you for last night?”

I sighed and shrugged. “Why not?”

He texted me an address, I ate, got ready and headed out.

The bar was well lit with dark wooden tables and just crowded enough not to be annoying. Most patrons were focused on the football game on every screen spread throughout the room. The smell of beer was prominent. I was able to grab a table as a couple of people were leaving while Chris tried to get some drinks.

Just as he was getting closer to me, the room burst into angry screaming. Grown men shouting “that was a dirty tackle” and “that's gotta be a penalty” filled my ears and scared Chris half to death.

“You guys take football pretty seriously around here huh?” He placed my glass in front of me and sat down.

“Wait til finals season. This is nothing!”

He shook his head and smiled. We watched for a little while but the game was nearly over and it wasn't be long before most of the bar filed out and we could actually hear each other. He told me about his travels and I told him about the places I had been and where I wanted to go.

After about an hour, Chris suggested we go somewhere else.

“Where do you wanna go?” I asked when we got out onto the street.

He turned on his heel to face me. “I don't know. Know any places around here that play decent music?”

I looked around and got my bearings. “Depends. Do you define rock as decent?”

His grin was enough of an answer so I told him to follow me.

We could hear the sound of guitars flood the street as we rounded the corner. This place was dark, most of the light in the room illuminating the bar towards the back. The dance floor was packed with people headbanging and dancing to noughties rock. I looked at Chris who was smiling like he just found paradise.

“You cool with this?” I shouted into his ear.

“Fuck yeah!”

We pushed through the crowd to the bar and I leaned forward to shake hands with the bartender and kiss his cheek before asking for our drinks.

Chris stood behind me and leaned close to my ear. “Come here often?”

I nodded and tilted my head to reach his ear. “Here and there. It's a great place.”

He agreed and we made our way back through the crowd with our glasses. We drank, we danced, we tried to talk and before I knew it, it was 1am. I showed an inebriated Chris my phone and pointed to the door. He gave me a puppy dog face but shrugged and took my hand as we made our way out.

“Ok I love that place!” he near shouted apparently oblivious to the fact that the sound barrier was now gone.

I laughed and readjusted my purse. “It's a great place.”

He grabbed my shoulders and made me focus my attention back on him. “But the night's not over yet, nena.”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “What are you talking about?”

“I'm hungry. Wanna get something to eat?”

I dropped my shoulders. Tomorrow was gonna suck.

He smiled and took my hand, near dragging me down the street. We found a sushi bar that was still open, got a few rolls and walked to the city square. Sitting in the light of the street lamps surrounding us, we laughed as we tried to feed each other, soy sauce dripping down our hands. I took a sip of my coke in an attempt to calm myself down. My cheeks were starting to hurt and my breathing was out of control.

Our eyes met briefly while I screwed the lid back on. He sighed, dropped his head and focused his attention on the street in front of us. “You’ve gotta stop looking at me like that, nena.”

My eyebrows knit together while I examined his profile. “Like what?”

His long eyelashes fluttered. His perfect lips slightly apart while he tried to find the words. “With those amazing eyes in this light; and those beautiful lips…” He trailed off and sighed again, resting his hand on the side of my neck and running his thumb over my jaw. He leaned in closer, eyes focused on mine, darting to my lips and closing them before our lips met.

He kissed me slowly and lightly, pecking at my lips before pulling away and meeting my eyes. I looked for any signs of regret and found none. He smiled and leaned in again, covering my mouth with his. I took his bottom lip between mine and tilted my head slightly. His tongue found mine, working in complete synchronisation while his hand slid into my hair, holding me in place. My hands came up around his neck as I tried to push my body closer to his.

We pulled away from each other, completely breathless but still desperately pecking each other’s lips. He pressed his forehead to mine. “We should get out of here.”

I nodded hastily and he helped me up, disposing of what was left of our food and stumbling down the street, stopping every few steps and reattaching our lips.

We crashed through the door, slamming it into the wall. I tried to reach for it while I kissed Chris, finally finding it and throwing it closed before he pushed me backwards, my back colliding with the hardwood. He pulled off his jacket and threw it to the ground. His hands gripped into my hair, sliding down my neck to my sides as his lips moved down my jaw and collarbone, feverishly covering my skin in hot, open-mouthed kisses.

My hands gripped the hem of his shirt and pushed it up his torso. He pulled himself away from my chest and lifted his arms, letting me lift the material over his head and tossing it to the side. My fingers dug into his hair and pulled his head to the side as I desperately kissed his neck.

His fingers slipped under my jacket, over my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. His hands slid up my upper arms, forcing them into the air. He crumpled my shirt at my hips, untucking it from my jeans and pulled it off. His fingers clamped into the tops of my breasts, grazing over my skin and down my back until he reached the clasp of my bra, undoing it expertly. His eyes widened as he watched the black fabric slowly drag down my skin and land on the floor. He smiled and met my eyes before kissing me again.

His strong hands curved around my ass and lifted one of my legs around his waist, pushing his crotch in between my legs. His breathy moans spurred me on. He still tasted like whisky. His other hand gripped into my other leg and lifted me onto him, crossing my ankles around his back. He pushed against the door and turned us around. My nails crawled down his shoulders and back while I started another assault on his neck as he walked down the hall to my room.

The moonlight shone through the large window as he threw me onto the bed, watching my chest bounce on impact. He bit into his lip and placed a knee in between my legs, a hand coming up near my head as he lowered himself onto me, gently moving my hair away from his face before covering my mouth with is perfect lips.

My fingers worked to undo his belt and jeans, pushing them and his boxers down to wrap my hand around his cock. It felt thicker than I had imagined. As my hand slid down his length, my eyes widened. I broke the kiss and looked down, threw my head back into the mattress and knew I was in trouble.

He smirked down at me and held my cheek. “See something you like?” His accent was so thick, I could feel myself get wetter with every word. I nodded weakly and pulled on the back of his neck to bring his face back down to mine, my hand continuing to slide up and down his amazing shaft.

His hand gently worked its way down my torso to the top of my jeans and unbuttoned them, pulled down the zipper. He lifted himself back up and I kicked my shoes off before he pulled the denim down my legs. Leaning down, he kissed the fabric of my underwear and gripped the sides, sliding them off and kissing my inner thighs.

He kissed his way back up my chest and around my clavicle while his fingers slipped in between my folds. “Carajo, so wet mami.” I sighed loudly and let my fingers dig into his hair again. My grip tightened when he pushed two fingers into my aching core until I felt the cool metal of his ring on my entrance. He pumped and curled them slowly a few times before adding another finger.

I heard him swear under his breath against my skin before his tongue started to swirl around my nipple. My breathing was getting heavier by the second and I needed more. He pulled his fingers out of my entrance and sat up, licking my essence and maintaining eye contact. The sight alone was intoxicating.

I pulled my eyes away to turn onto my stomach, crawling on the bed until I got to the bedside table and found a condom. I threw it at him and he tore it open, sliding it on before positioning himself in front of me, pulling my legs apart. He aligned his now hard cock at my entrance and hovered over me, pecking at my cheek and jaw while he pushed himself into me.

My vision blurred slightly until he was fully inside and I held onto his shoulders for support. He pulled out almost completely and plunged into me again, a moan escaping my lips. He started a steady pace and thrusted into me, creating a good rhythm of the headboard banging into my bathroom wall.

I could feel my nails marking his skin. My walls suffocated his length as his grip on my leg tightened. My heels dug into his back as he continued to pound into me, groaning and murmuring my name right into my ear. The curve of his cock reached new places and as his pace picked up, I heard myself moan louder.

He pushed himself up and pulled out of me, his dick damn near glistening in what little light there was in the room. He lifted my legs onto his shoulders and aligned himself again. “Let me hear you, baby.” He growled.

I screamed his name repeatedly as he resumed his pace. His hands came around and squeezed my breasts, playing with them and focusing on my nipples every now and then.

“Cariño, I’m so close.” he grunted. “Are you?”

“Not yet, I need more.”

He spread my legs and started circling my clit with his thumb. I gasped loudly and gripped into the sheets. “Yes! Yes! Like that!” My hips started moving on their own volition, meeting his thrusts as I started to shudder. His other hand held my hip in place as he continued to plunge into me.

I held onto his forearm and told him I was gonna come, panting and shaking underneath him. He shook and moaned as he came seconds before I did. My walls clenched around him amazingly tightly. The room filled with profanities and each other’s names. Hot breath on each other’s skin. Evidence of my climax dripping down my leg as he pulled out, rolled onto his side and removed the condom.

“Well, that was-”

“Yeah,” he panted, cutting me off as he looked at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath. He turned his head towards me and lifted his arm over my head as I rested my head on his chest. His arm came down and rubbed my arm while I traced the diamond tattoo on his chest.

*****

The next couple of weeks were the most enjoyable I had had in awhile. I showed him around the city, taking in skyscraper views, walks by the river and hidden places only the locals know about. Chris was sweet and caring. He was willing to try new things and kept me in giggles. After work, he was there to take the edge off. Satisfying me in ways I hadn’t know since I’d lost the love of my life.

He had two speeds, he was either out and about or in bed. Spending the night in was a foreign concept.

I almost felt like a fog had cleared and everything seemed lighter but going days without seeing him didn't eat me alive. We both led busy lives. He was just fun to be around from time to time.

I yawned as I got into the lift and pressed the button for my floor. I undid my bun and shook my hair out, ready to re-tie it when the doors opened again. I rummaged around in my bag for my keys and looped them around my finger while I walked to my door.

The lights were on and a very tall man stood in the kitchen area, taking in a painting on the wall.

He turned as I closed the door. “I like what you've done with the place.”

I put my bag on the dining table and threw my keys aside. My mouth slightly opened while my brain tried to process what was going on.

His hands stayed in his pockets as he moved away from the bench, standing a maximum of five paces away.

“What are you doing here?” was all I could mutter.

“I still have the key. I'm surprised you didn't change the locks to be honest.” He smiled and I tried to keep myself from melting.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “No, what are you doing here?”

He raised his shoulders. “I'm moving back.”

I shook my head, still not able to get my head around it all. “What changed your mind?”

He took a step forward and sighed. “I don't belong at home anymore. It took me a while to get it but I belong wherever you are.”

My pulse was racing. I fought the urge to run into his arms. To touch him again. To kiss him. To go back to that familiar feeling.

He tilted his head to the side and looked me up and down before meeting my eyes. “Didn’t you miss me?”

I nodded slowly. “Like crazy.”

His lips curved into a smile and he took his hands out of his pockets. “Come here, baby girl.”

I dropped my arms and walked into his, my hands wrapping around his neck as he held me tightly. He smelt like sweet cologne and coffee. I exhaled slowly and reveled in the feeling. He pulled away, tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and kissed me slowly. His lips grazed against mine before pulling away. I couldn’t help but smile as I leaned in and kissed him again.

He pulled me flush against him while his tongue delved into my mouth, exploring every nook and cranny, our eagerness growing by the second. My hands dug into his hair and I started turning us around, walking backwards down the hall. He broke the kiss and bent down, lifting me into his arms, bridal style.

I giggled and threw my head back before reattaching my lips to his. He lay me down gently on the sheets and stood up straight.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” he murmured.

I sat up and clutched the front of his shirt, bringing his lips down to mine. We slowly fell backwards, hungrily running our hands all over each other.

*****

A few days later, I got a message from Christopher, asking me to come over after work.

I bit my lip in anticipation, forgetting for a second the situation I was in.

My heart thundered in my chest as I walked to his apartment. I knocked on his door and thought about turning around for the hundredth time. I was about to turn around when the door opened, revealing a very shirtless Chris.

He smiled and leaned against the doorframe. “Hola, preciosa.”

I shook my head slowly. “Fuckin thirst trap.”

He laughed and extended a hand, pulling me in and closing the door behind us.

“Can I get you anything?” He kissed the back of my hand and let it go, making his way to the kitchen. “Coke? Water? Vodka?”

I picked at my cuticles, keeping my head down. “Nah, it’s ok, I can’t stay long.”

“Quicky, huh?” I glared at him while he smirked. He shook his hair out and gave me a face I could only describe as one of the sexiest things I had ever seen. He stalked towards me and held my face, tilting it towards his. “Something wrong?”

I licked my lips. “We need to talk.”

“Uh oh.”

I took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “Listen, my ex came back the other day.”

His face fell and he swallowed. “Ok..”

“We-we can’t do this anymore.”

He held my cheek, his eyes focused on mine.

“I don’t wanna hurt you but...I love him.”

He exhaled and dropped his hand. “No me importa carajo.”

My brow creased as I squinted at him.

“You want me, baby, I know you do. You’ll be back.”

I raised my eyebrows and tilted my head. “Does it hurt, carrying that ego around all day?”

He laughed and put his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “What? It’s true though.”

I shook my head, trying to conceal the smile forming.

“Well, in the spirit of being honest, there’s something I should tell you.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and nodded. “Ok, tell me.”

“Umm,” he rubbed the back of his neck and looked at me. “I have a girlfriend.”

The shock hit me right in the face.

“Wow, ok.” I looked around the room, anywhere but at him.

“Yeah…” he trailed off. “But she’s not you.”

I finally met his eyes. The big brown orbs looked as ernest as I had ever seen them.

“Look, whatever this is,” he waved his hand in between us, “I don’t want it to end; and I don’t think you do either.”

I pursed my lips. He was right. As much as I loved the man, Chris was...irresistible. And amazing. And insatiable. And massive.

He stepped around me and circled me. “Listen, he doesn’t have to know about me, she doesn’t have to know about you. It doesn’t have to end.” He stopped behind me and slowly rubbed my arms, kissing the back of my head.

“But-”

“Don’t worry, nena. It’ll be fine.” His hands slid down my sides achingly slowly until they came to the hem of my shirt. “Everyone will be happy.” His fingers started lifting the hem. “All four of us.” He lips grazed the shell of my ear. “Felices los cuatro, baby.”

I sighed and turned in his arms, crashing my lips onto his passionately.

[silverdrip]

Playing Pretend (Frostiron)

@teckmonky since you’re looking for fluff~

“What are they doing?” Loki asked with his nose scrunched up in distaste. Tony rolled to the side on the picnic blanket to get a view on what Loki was looking at.

“Role playing,” Tony said with an easy yawn. The spring sunlight that dappled through the blooming cherry tree above them provided the perfect amount of warmth.

“But they are not sparring,” Loki added in.

Tony got a better look at the kids. Three girls, all around six or seven years old. They were each wearing a flower crown. One was holding a toy baton that was pink and had a shiny heart on top, along with frilly bows. She was giving some speech as the other two pretended to be enraptured.

“Probably some fairy tale game. Not all role playing games having sparring in them.”

“Then what is the point?” Loki looked genuinely confused and Tony laughed. He would have pulled him down for a kiss, if Loki wasn’t so opposed to PDA.

“The point is to have fun. What did children do in Asgard to have fun?”

“Reenact battles and listen to war stories.” Loki was frowning.

“Well that’s not how we do it down here.”

He could see Loki contemplating his answer. Tony just smiled and enjoyed the weather and having his lover so close.

*

When Tony woke up the next morning it was to Jarvis’ voice.

“Sir, we seem to have a,” Jarvis paused and Tony was put on full alert, “strange situation.”

Tony turned to wake Loki, but he was nowhere in sight.

“What is it?”

“Mr. Loki is outside of the tower, knocking on the front door. I have granted him access, but he refuses to be let in by anyone other than you.”

Tony wrinkled his brow in confusion and worry.

“Put him on screen.”

Loki was right outside of the tower, as Jarvis had said. His hand was rapping against the reinforced glass next to the automatic sliding doors. He was dressed in… Tony didn’t know how to describe it beyond rags. Instead of his normal regal poise he was bent over slightly.

“What the fuck,” Tony whispered while getting out of bed. He pulled on the first pair of jeans he could find, already wearing a tank top. He didn’t bother with shoes, too concerned to find any.

Did Loki have a nightmare? Did it trigger something in him that he’d been hiding? Was this a residual effect from mind control? Had he been attacked and was too scared to talk to anyone, but Tony?

Tony tapped on the casing of his reactor, trying not to let his paranoia overtake him. When he finally reached the lobby he ran to the door, but before he could say anything Loki was on his knees, hands clasped together in front of him.

“Please, Lord Stark, lower the taxes on your domain. I barely have a penny to feed myself or my children.”

Everything clicked into place in an instant.

“Your concerns are none of mine, peasant.” Tony sneered, raising his chin up haughtily, despite knowing he looked completely rumpled.

“Please, sir.” Loki crawled forward on his knees. “The harvest was poor this year due to the drought. We can’t possibly pay you.”

“If you can’t pay then you’ll simply be jailed and made to work in my personal fields.”

Loki’s eyes went wide with fear.

“But what of my children? They’ll die without me.”

“Are you truly so foolish? They’d be jailed too and forced to labor away as they should have been doing already. You peasants coddle your children far too much.”

“They have been working the fields since they could stand,” Loki said pathetically. He looked the perfect picture of helplessness.

“Guards! Seize this disgusting excuse for a human!” His security guards glanced at each other in confusion. They knew Loki had access to the tower. “Now!” He scowled at them, using an arrogant voice that went beyond any he’d used before, even in his most prideful years. The two suit clad guards sprang into action, gripping Loki by his upper arm and pulling him up, waiting for more directions. “This way.” He turned on his heels, knowing they would follow.

“My lord, please!” He could tell Loki was putting up a fake struggle against the guards as he was hauled forward.

“Silence, lest I send you to the gallows for your insolence.” Loki instantly became quiet. Loki’s scuffed boots made a depressing noise as he was dragged across the smooth floors. The elevator opened. “Throw him in. I can handle this scourge from here,” Tony said, knowing it wouldn’t hurt Loki in the least. The guards still tossed him carefully though. The elevator doors closed with the pair in them. “Word traveled that you would darken my doorsteps of my castle, so I had your children brought here, in case you tried to do something foolish.”

Loki looked up at him from the corner of the elevator, curled up and breathing shallow.

“How… how did you know?”

“My men are loyal to me and my tax collectors can always spot a troublemaker.” Tony stared at the elevator doors, eyes disinterested. “Jarvis, to the fields.” He figured his AI would be able to figure out what he meant and he was proven correct when the doors opened to the lab hallway. “Come.”

Loki walked meekly behind him.

“Are… are they alright?” Loki whispered. Tony didn’t respond. When they entered the lab Dum-E and U rolled over quickly, surrounding Loki, beeping and whistling. “I’m so sorry for dragging you all into this,” Loki said while lower down to hug them. “Had I known…” Loki’s voice sounded tight and Tony would have to complement him on his acting skills later.

“Don’t dawdle.” Tony’s voice was scathing. “Dum-E! Fetch me some coffee! U, sweep up that corner. And you,” Tony rounded on Loki, “you shall be my personal errand boy. I hope you’re a quick study.”

“Yes, my lord. Just please don’t hurt my children.” Tears fell from Loki’s green eyes.

“We shall see.” Tony gave him a contemplative look. “Soldering iron, now,” Tony said while turning to one of his projects.

*

The morning was filled with Loki fumbling with tools, tripping, and pretending to be completely incompetent. Tony scolded him, throwing insult after insult, but trying not to cross any lines. He banished Dum-E to his charging port and Loki cried.

When lunchtime came around Tony ended their game by pulling Loki off the ground and smothering him with kisses. Loki laughed and his face became flushed.

“Have fun?” Tony asked, not letting Loki go.

“It was a very different experience, I did enjoy myself though, especially when you ordered your employees around. I think you gave them a scare.”

Tony groaned.

“Yeah, I know. Pep is going to kill me when she sees the videos some onlookers took.”

Loki laughed again.

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

*

Tony thought that was the end of Loki’s little game, but he was proven wrong four days later.

He woke once again to Jarvis’ voice.

“Sir, Mr. Loki is in the infirmary,” Jarvis reported. There a slight undertone of exasperation to Jarvis’ voice, easing Tony’s initial anxiety.

“Another game?”

“I believe so, Sir.”

“I think I’ll dress the part this time.” He didn’t own any lab coats personally, but knew that Bruce was a complete nerd and probably did. “Call Bruce.”

“You’re up early,” Bruce observed. He almost looked concerned in the hologram.

“Yup. I need to borrow a lab coat.”

“Why?”

“For science,” Tony said right away. Bruce gave him a suspicious look before sighing.

“In my lab, far left corner. There should at least be three hanging there. Don’t bother returning it. I don’t want to know what you’re really using it for.”

“Awesome.” Bruce sighed again and the call was cut off. “J, tell Loki that the doctor will see him soon.”

He had a bit of preparation to do.

*

Tony walked into the infirmary, wearing lensless glasses, and had a clipboard in hand. He was scribbling away on the sheets of blank paper he’d grabbed, not looking over at Loki. He knew from the surveillance feed that he was sitting on an examination table.

“What seems to the problem, Mr. Friggason?” Tony asked, finally looking at him. Loki did look paler than usual. He really was a good actor.

“Dr. Stark,” his voice was hoarse, “I’ve had this cough for weeks and it’s only getting worse.”

Tony nodded, showing grave concern.

“You should have come in sooner. A persistent cough is often an indicator of various maladies.” Loki blushed and looked down at his lap. So he was going to pretend to be shy. How cute. “We’ll start with the basics.”

Tony pulled out a blood pressure gauge and Loki offered up his arm freely. Tony noticed that he wasn’t wearing his usual alien garb, but street clothes.

Tony performed the test, already knowing the results he would get.

“Your blood pressure is good.” Tony pretended to put a note down on the clipboard. “Heartrate next.” Tony rifled through the drawers before finding a stethoscope. “Breathe in deeply.” Loki’s heartrate was ridiculously slow, but it always was. He moved the stethoscope around a few times, surprised by how much he was enjoying himself. He pulled away and drew the picture of a heart then a check mark next to it on his clipboard. “Your heart sounds healthy, but your lungs sounded like they’re crackling.”

Loki coughed roughly and Tony was quick to get him a tissue and glass of water.

“I thought it was only my throat,” Loki said after chugging half the water down.

“I’m afraid not, but I’m going to need to look at your throat and take a swab to identify what you have exactly.” He grabbed a tongue depressor from a glass jar. “Nurse! We’re going to need a throat swab!” Tony said loudly.

From the corner of his eye he watched Loki’s reaction as Dum-E wheeled in, a shirt with little ducks designs was flung on him haphazardly along with a nurse hat Tony had folded out of newspaper. Loki had to cover his mouth to stop from laughing.

“Thank you, nurse.” Tony said completely serious as he took the swab from Dum-E’s claw. Dum-E let out a single beep, somehow sounding professional.

Loki bit his tongue and Tony pretended to look for a small flashlight to give him time to compose himself.

When he looked like he was under control Tony approached him. Loki automatically opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out slightly. Tony swabbed the inside of his cheek before reaching behind him blindly. Dum-E took the swab with another beep before wheeling off.

He pressed Loki’s tongue down with the wide popsicle stick and used the flashlight to look down his throat.

“Your throat is nearly swollen shut. I’m surprised you can breathe at all.” Tony adjusted the exam table so that it was a chair. He pushed Loki back slightly until he was flush with it. “I’ll be right back. If breathing suddenly becomes harder push this button.” Tony handed him a click pen.

“Thank you, doctor,” Loki wheezed out.

Tony nodded before disappearing into the hallway. His serious façade slipped and he was smiling widely. There was a small kitchen and Tony already had brought down Loki’s favorite mug and tea. All he had to do was heat it up.

He glanced around and saw that all his other props were ready. Dum-E was fruitlessly trying to pick up his newspaper hat and put it back on.

Tony gave him a pat while chuckling before tapping the hat back in place.

The microwave went off and Tony made sure the tea was the perfect temperature before returning to the exam room, looking the part of a doctor again.

“This should ease the immediate swelling,” Tony said while handing over the warm mug.

“Thank you, doctor.” Loki took a sip before sighing. Tony pretended to scribble down more notes. When he was done with the drink Tony made a discreet movement, signaling Jarvis.

Dum-E came in, carrying a piece of paper and a plastic bottle filled with the strawberry hard candies that Loki adored.

Tony took the sheet of paper and bottle.

“Hmm, not as bad as I originally thought.” Tony handed Loki the bottle. “Anti-biotics, bed rest, and soup should do you a world of good. I think I should send a nurse with you though. I don’t want you out of bed.”

“Are you sure?” Loki was giving that wide eyed look that always got to Tony.

“Yes, don’t worry. I think you’ll like the nurse. He’s a personal friend of mine.”

Loki nodded before getting off the table, clutching the ‘medicine’ carefully.

“Thank you again, doctor.”

“It was a pleasure.”

Tony waited until he was sure Loki was in the elevator before grabbing a shirt with a little tin can and reindeer pattern. It had been a gag gift from Clint and Tony had no idea where he got it.

He pulled it on before making another nurse hat, one that could actually fit his head.

When he got upstairs Loki was already bundled up in their bed.

Tony introduced himself and Loki held back a smile.

He spent the rest of the day pampering Loki before they just cuddled and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

*

Their games continued for months, from pirates to homemakers.

Tony did notice that Loki did have a favorite game though, playing wedding.

It had startled Tony the first time, but he was quick to get into the act.

It was always the one Loki prepared for the most, using kid scissors to cut out decorations, different each time. He made real cake (or cupcakes), created soundtracks, and set up seats that wouldn’t be filled where ever the ‘wedding’ was to take place.

Sometimes Loki would dress up as a bride, all in white and in a frilly dress that probably cost a pretty penny. Other times they were both be grooms. On one memorable occasion Tony was the bride and Loki pretended to be a bridesmaid as he helped Tony put on his dress which was made solely out of toilet paper.

The bots would always try to catch the bouquet, regardless of whether it was real or imagined. Dum-E and Butterfingers had gotten into a fight once over a bouquet of coiled wires that Tony had tossed over his shoulders.

Loki and Tony had laughed at them before heading to their ‘honeymoon’, which was just their bedroom to consummate their marriage.

*

They were in the park having a picnic again, but this time it was fall and Tony was already bundled up. Loki was reading a book, not bothered by the cold.

“You know I love our games,” Tony said while sitting up, leaves beneath their picnic blanket crunching under his weight. Loki set aside his book.

“I love them too.” Loki smiled brightly and his cheeks became flushed.

“There’s one I’d rather not play again though.” A bit of sadness drifted into Loki’s eyes. Tony shifted, reaching into his pocket. “I’d rather make it a reality.” He held out a golden ring. “Loki, will you marry me?” Loki was frozen for a moment before tackling Tony with a hug, nearly knocking the ring out of his hand.

“Of course I’ll marry you!” Loki said between kisses. Tony wrapped him in his arms and laughed happily.

My AO3

[wordsaremybestfriends]

Didn’t Ask For This Chapter 3

Hey friends!! Back again for another chapter of this thing… 

I’m not sure how active I’ll be around the holidays but I really hope I can post one more chapter next week. After that, I’d like to post every Tuesday if my schedule permits it, but I’ll figure that out later. Thanks for reading! 

Warnings: Cursing, child abuse, vocal abuse, violence, *TELL ME IF YOU FIND ANYTHING ELSE*

Dustin royally fucked up.

I mean, unknowingly bringing a baby demogorgon into the house was already a fuck up, in heins sight, but now, he completely, 100% fucked Hawkins over.

After school, he had made sure everyone met at the AV club, including Max. He didn’t care about the dirty looks Mike had given him about their newest recruit and opted instead to focus on the angry blob that he had found on the table in front of them.

Everything was fine, of course, until Dart decided to jump a little bit, and out the front door. Though the five kids were in pursuit of the slug creature, he was nowhere in Hawkins Middle School, and it was already past time to head home for all of them.

Dustin wasn’t surprised to see Emma home already, eating a peanut butter and jelly at their counter and flipping through a book of Greek mythology. When she looked up, however, the pure fire in her eyes froze every cell in his body.

Though she had changed into a pair of tight jeans and a heavier red and purple sweater, a scarf wrapped around her hair to keep it out of her face, the girl looked like she could level cities with one look. She rose from her barstool, arms crossed, and she looked more like their mother than her loving older sister.

“You didn’t think to wake me up this morning, dorkwad.” She was less angry than she was this morning, but the look on her face was certainly not a pleasant one. “I missed calculus, physics, and homeroom!”

He paled. “I was… I woke up and was going to, you know… kill the thing I found last night.” He said it with a straight face, no smirk or wry smile as usual, and it didn’t escape her sister’s intense eye.

“Where did you kill it?” She asked, arms crossed over her chest. “They’re not easy to kill, especially without Eleven with us.”

“Bat.” He replied quickly. His hands began to sweat nervously in his pockets, as his sister rose from her seat, leaning against the tiled countertop. Her usually bright amber gaze was dark from her stare, and even though he knew she wasn’t really angry at him, he couldn’t shake the fact that she might just kill him if she knew what was going on. “S-Steve Harrington. H-His bat. The one with the nails in it, from last time.”

With an unmanicured hand, she flicked a lone chocolate-colored curl off of her shoulder, and began to round the counter. “Funny that he didn’t mention anything at school today. I could always call him up and ask, you know. He lives about two miles down the road, he could be here in an instant.”

“F-Fine!” Dustin said, hands suddenly raised to his head in surrender. He didn’t know Steve super well, but he knew the boy could easily bullshit a lie, just to save some face. “Call him! He’ll just say what I told you!”

Emma wasted no time picking up the landline and dialing the Harrington household, fire in her eyes. Her little brother was going to pay big time if he was lying. The only thing she hoped was true was the fact that the mini demogorgon was gone, and they could go back to life as usual, as if nothing had ever happened.

The line only rang a few times before she heard it connect, the pleasant voice of Mrs. Harrington on the other side. “Harrington residence, Mrs. speaking…”

“Hi Mrs. Harrington, it’s Emma, a friend of Steve’s,” Emma began. “I was just wondering-”

Instantly, Mrs. Harrington, like most mothers, launched herself into a whole speech about ‘oh, Emma Henderson! What a lovely surprise!’  and ‘I was hoping someone would help him with his writing, he’s not doing so well’. Emma impatiently tapped her fingers against the cord and turned to find Dustin missing from his spot in the living room. If that little snot left me mid-argument, I’m going to shave off an eyebrow tonight.

“Mrs. Harrington!” Emma almost shouted over the line. “I need to talk to Steve, is he there?”

“Oh, no sweetie!” She cooed over the line, and Emma wanted to either disconnect the phone or run straight to the Harringtons to disconnect theirs instead. “He left a bit ago to work on a history project with Nancy Wheeler at her house. I don’t think he knows any of our presidents, so he really needs all the help he can get-”

Emma threw the phone back on it’s dock, marching straight into the living room, where Dustin’s bag still sat. “Dustin Peter Henderson, you get your butt here RIGHT-”

The form of her brother barreled straight into her stomach, launching them straight into the couch. The fear of God seemed to be radiating from Dustin, a hand clasped over his sister’s mouth as he looked back to his room warily. His entire body shook, as he kept repeating the same phrase on a loop, like some kind of broken gramophone. “I messed up, I messed up, I messed up!”

Another glare was shot at her brother as she wrenched his slimy hand off her mouth. “What the hell, Dustin-”

“You need to shut up, Em, like right now!” Dustin hissed as he looked warily down the hall where his room was. “Look, you were right and I should have listened to you, but I didn’t and I really really messed up this time, okay?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” She hissed as Dustin looked rapidly from his room to his sister, hands squeezing her arm tightly. “Did you clog the toilet again or something?”

“Um,” He murmured, Emma still trying to wrench her hand away from him. “I’m sorry in advance, okay?”

Her eyes followed his, seeing the closed door. It didn’t take long for her to put two and two together.

“You kept the demogorgon, didn’t you?” She asked, voice eerily slow and calm as her body went still.

Dustin nodded beside her. “It ate Mews, Emma.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“And it’s bigger this time.”

The soft sound of a growl, or at least, something akin to that, echoed through the empty house and both kids were glued to their spots.

“I don’t even know what to say,” Emma mumbled, eyes closed as she let her body fall against the wall..They were either about to die, or unleash a beast that wanted to feed on every person in Hawkins. Both were probable, and both were mostly unavoidable at the moment. “You let a monster into our house that we’ve already fought. You let it live in your room, then lied to me about killing it. You also let it eat the cat while we were at school.”

He turned to his sister, reaching to grasp her shoulders. “Look, we can talk more about me being an idiot later, but for now, Em, please, you have to help me trap it.”

A laugh escaped her lips, quiet and high, as if he was delirious from too many painkillers. “Trap it? The beast that ate Barb and kept Will in the Upside Down? The one that Eleven gave her life up for?”

“It came from the same place as the last one, right?” He hissed, eyes wide with the probability of catching the beast. “We could make it take us there, maybe rescue Eleven, figure out what’s going on-”

“You want to talk to a monster that ate our CAT?” Emma squeaked, tears of stress and frustration clouding her eyes. “You think a monster that killed a bunch of people is willing to have a conversation with us?”

He shrugged. “We could always burn the house down, like at the Byers.”

Emma was silent as she kept switching from looking at Dustin’s closed door to her little brother, wishing this entire mess was just another bad dream. Some twisted, awful dream that ended with her and her brother lying dead on their horrid cream couch, awaiting the same fate as their defenseless cat.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Emma shook her head, eyes boring into Dustin’s. “But… We cleaned out the storm cellar last summer. And in case you haven’t eaten it, we might have the bologna Mom bought the other day.”

Her little brother’s eyes brightened as he suddenly launched into a plan, his sister’s incredulous expression never deterring the detailed explanation.

———

With thirty seven slices of bologna laid out in a perfect trail from Dustin’s door to the storm cellar, the two siblings were ready for the mostly idiotic plan that might just kill both of them. The small clubhouse Dustin and Emma made in the side yard would be their base, with a clear view of the opening to the cellar. Hockey stick in hand and fifteen pounds of weight strapped across his body, the youngest Henderson was waiting for his sister, drawing the demogorgon’s attention to the bologna (and their most likely imminent death) with her old shin guards from soccer, umpire mask from softball, and a pair of football pads Dustin had gotten at a yard sale once. Eyes trained on the blue door, she shifted weight from side to side, spinning the trash can lid in her right and clenching an old guitar she had learned to play at one point. Billions of scenarios ran through her head as she waited for confidence to fill her, eagerly tiptoeing towards the bologna trail through the living room.

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” She murmured to herself as she took another silent step towards her brother’s room.

She passed seven slices of bologna, arriving to the last slice that was placed just next to the door. The shake in her hands was hardly contained now, and she doubted she’d stop it anytime soon. Not with a bloodthirsty monster in the house.

With a breath held tight in her chest, Emma slipped her guitar into her free hand, thin, nimble fingers free and ready to pull the gold handle back. Her fingers grasped the cool metal, and without a second thought, she tugged it open, bolting straight down the hall, out of the living room, and straight to her brother in the shed.

“You did it?” Dustin asked as Emma pressed her body against the door, eyes straining to look through the wooden slats. “Is he coming?”

“Shut up and watch for him!” She hissed, and his body velcroed itself towards the small openings, eyes looking straight into the yard for any sense of movement from the front of their house.

Ten seconds passed. Then twenty. Emma felt her hands shake, the trash lid clattering against her mismatched armor. There was no sight of the slimy slug that had apparently grown since the last time she saw him. It almost would have been nicer to die than to have to wait another few agonizing moments here, helpless and hopelessly awaiting the possibility her brother’s plan had actually worked.

“Maybe he likes real meat, not the processed stuff?” Dustin whispered, and Emma let her eyes slip closed for a moment. There was no way in hell she was going out to be a lure for that damn thing.

Come on, you stupid thing. Get out here. Get in that damn cellar-

The glint of sunlight on the moist skin of a dog-like creature caught both the kids attention. Silence filled the small clubhouse as they kept their eyes focused on the slug like it was magnetized to their sight. It sucked up another piece of the sliced meat, then another, until it was three slices from the cellar.

They were so close. They were feet away. They might actually survive. All they had to do was keep quiet, and all would be okay.

Of course, until Dustin coughed quietly, softer than the drop of a pin to a passerby.

The demogorgon snapped it’s neck backwards at them, hissing and growling. It had found them.

They were going to die.

They were going to be killed because of a cough.

They were in deep shit.

“Plan B!” Dustin screamed, launching himself out of the small door and swinging his hockey stick at the green creature. It fell a few feet backwards like a lifeless doll, though never ceasing it’s disgusting scream out. Emma ran out past him, taking a wind up with the back of her guitar to launch the hideous being straight down the flight of stairs into the dusty darkness below.

With both hands, Emma smashed the metal doors down, trapping the creature with a triumphant scream. Her body fell atop the handles, holding the doors down as it fought back, hissing and screeching as loud as it could. Dustin grabbed a chain, one they had from the garage, and looped it through the handles as much as he could, securing it with a lock for sure, and after a moment, the fight stopped, silence coming from the cellar instead.

Emma let out a breath, rolling backwards on the doors with her football pads clattering against it. “We almost died right now.”

“Yup.” Her brother answered, breathing still quick. His eyes were a bit unfocused as he slid to the ground beside his sister.

“We just caught a demogorgon.” She added, voice eerily calm.

“Yup.”

“Our cat just died.”

“Yup.”

“We need backup.”

“Yup.”

After completely locking up the storm cellar with a lock and chain as well as at least fifty pounds of other junk to keep the door down, the two began the trip to the Wheeler household. Emma was on her old moped, Dustin hanging off the back with her helmet on as he watched the quiet houses fly by. The trees were already beginning their change into fall, filling the yards with a kaleidoscope of colors that were anywhere from the skin of a crisp apple to the shine of her honey bee yellow moped, small bits of clover green spread throughout.

It was just enough to make her forget about the bloodthirsty monster that was locked in her front yard that had just killed her cat.

The Wheeler house looked empty from the outside, as usual. Now that trouble was once again stirring up in town, it was a shot in the dark for where the rest of Dustin’s friends were. Will’s house was almost three miles out from their house, and since Erica had told Dustin that Lucas was out for now, it seemed like Mike’s house was the best option at the moment. The family car was out front, though the lights seemed dim and life didn’t seem to course through the house like it did with the kids around.

Emma came to an easy stop at the base of the Wheeler’s front yard, letting her younger brother jump off. He threw the helmet back at her as he dashed up to the door, ringing the doorbell as obnoxiously as he could.

The entire situation was incredulous to her. She had a mini demogorgon, one that she had captured with her younger brother, stuffed in their storm cellar, and none of her brother’s friends were around to help them figure out what the fuck was going on. Last time, it was easier. Of course, Nancy and Jonathan were stuck with starry eyed gazes at one another, Steve trying to apologize for being a giant dickwad to Jonathan and replace his broken camera, and Emma was just trying to pass her sociology class, but those were the biggest worries of them. When Nancy and Jonathan had first started their plan to catch the monster, Emma began to tag along. She was the smartest, most resourceful one out of all of them, and could help them out in a pinch if needed.

The two girls had gotten into too many messes to count, though being stuck in the Byers’ home trying to catch a creature from another dimension that had supposedly took their friend Barb was definitely one of their biggest. When the creature disappeared, only to reappear moments later in the living room, she had gotten pulled under the creature, it’s flowered face mere inches above her as she felt a bit of it’s slime spread onto her face. Flashes of her father’s enraged face passed through her gaze, and she was pinned to the ground. Her body was rigid, breathing rapid, as slime had begun to drip against her cheek. She could only stare at the hundreds of teeth from within the mouth, wishing that maybe, just maybe, she could have a quick and painless death, one that wouldn’t haunt Nancy and Jonathan for the rest of their lives.

And then, there was nothing but the hazy roof of the Byers’ house above her. Her hands shook as she could only think of her father’s face in front of her, screaming at her and beating her until she couldn’t bear to stay awake for the rest of it. Tufts of the carpet were gathered into her fingers as she curled onto her side with tears gathering in her eyes. Raspy, uneven breaths came out from her mouth as she tried to compose herself in front of Steve and Jonathan, even though nothing could quell the shake in her body. The only sound she could hear was the ringing in her ears, as she let her eyes close, tears leaking onto the ground below her.

Nancy had broke from the two boys as soon as she realized that her best friend wasn’t right by her side. Emma’s state was one she had dealt with before when the memories came back of the screams and the hurt her father would cause. In one motion, Nancy gathered her friend into her arms, holding her small, tremor-filled state as tight as she could from her lips. Small whispers fell from her lips, ones that Emma nodded along to for a few minutes until she could finally raise her head, just to look at her best friend and utter out a few words to her, a watery smile on her face.

“We won?”

“We won.”

And that should have been the end of it. She should have been able to sleep since that night, no more nightmares of what could have been. No more fear creeping out of her each time she drove home from the library in the dark. No more constant glances over her shoulder. No more screams that fell from her lips, every time she found herself pushed on her back.

But it’s started again. And if it took them a few weeks to get over the last one, Emma could only imagine what it would be like to have to deal with a dozen of these suckers.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

She shot her head up, her soft curls bouncing along with her. Only a few feet in front of her was Steve Harrington’s car, him just emerging with a textbook in his hands. He wore his signature brown bomber jacket, his hair as wild and messy as it was this morning at school.

“Why do you care?” She replied as he rounded the front of the car, face solemn.

“I’m studying with Nancy today,” He muttered, eyes flicking back to his textbook. Emma didn’t waste her time to gaze longer at her, watching her little brother repeatedly ring the doorbell to make at least one of the Wheeler’s get to the door. “History.”

“Glad it’s not human anatomy,” Emma said with a smug smile, flattening the chuckle in her chest.

Steve glared from beside her as he began to grit his teeth. “Look, I told Natalie I didn’t want to be with her, like in a relationship.”

“So that’s why she was crying to me at my locker between classes, right?” Emma asked, eyes never looking over to him. “Because, as I told you before, all your little flames come to me for advice, whether you want them to or not.”

He scoffs. “So what, you just know exactly what goes on at school, at all times?”

“Only the interesting stuff,” She shrugs as she goes back to checking her chipping nail polish instead. “Which most often concerns you.”

“You know what?” He snapped, eyes locked in a glare at Emma’s temple as she barely moved a muscle. She had dealt with more frightening things than an insecure teenage boy. “I don’t get why you’re so mad at me for living my life. For God’s sakes, you’re not perfect either!”

“I never said I was perfect,” She drawled, smirking as she turned to face the boy. “And I never said I was mad. You did.”

Before he could reply, Dustin began to cross back from the lawn, groaning to himself. “Neither of them are home, and Mr. Wheeler’s about as useless as a pile of bricks.”

“I could have told you that,” Emma said, mounting her bike once again as she tossed the helmet to her brother. “So I guess we’re going to the Byers’s next?”

“What’s at the Byers’s?” Steve asked, eyeing the two. “Is everything okay?”

“Peachy,” Dustin replied with a roll of his eyes. “I mean, if you call having a baby demogorgon in your storm cellar peachy…”

“Dustin!” Emma barked from the bike. “We’re not even supposed to be talking about that out here. There’s ears everywhere, kid.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Steve asked as Dustin slipped the helmet over his baseball cap and stepped onto the back of his sister’s scooter. “There’s another one?”

“In our basement, yes,” Dustin said as his sister swatted at his leg, aiming a scowl at him.

“And you guys need help to kill it?” He asked, smirking. “‘Cause I still have my bat, you know-”

“We don’t need your help, Harrington,” Emma shouted as she pressed her foot onto the gas and began to speed down the street. She barely gave him a second glance as she turned down another street, and disappeared from his sight.

With a small smirk, the boy began to climb back into his car and tossed the textbook into his backseat. He threw the car in drive and began to pull away from the Wheeler’s lawn, following the two Henderson kids.

If they had really found another demogorgon from last time, they’d need as much help as they could get.

And a bat with nails was pretty handy in a time like this.

TAG LIST: @luv2reade16 @lillie-writes @harringtonwife @tiarrasmith @sarahmariedesserts @kararanae23

[chocobutt-trash]

Isn't Emperor's New Clothes from Panic! At The Disco very Ardyn?

Oh it certainly is, and it’s not the only one. Here, Anon, is my playlist of Ardyn-related songs. Caution: might contain a significant amount of edge :P

ARDYN SONG MASTERLIST:

https://open.spotify.com/user/madegg/playlist/29SLYfCdD3TN7CTXpixnW9

(all song details, with some choice lyrics, under the cut)

1.) Forever Can Be - by ASHES dIVIDE

So you dug deep down inside yourselfYou revealed an old manSo pained to be what makes you who you areWe all want you to see the you we seeThe one that carries the worlds tragedies aloneThe cross you choose to bear upon your own.

2.) Smoke and Mirrors - by Puscifer

Now the mirror is broken, we all know what your spell was concealingJust hollow eyes, a stolen crown butNot a kingNo, not a king

3.) Black Cat Bone - by The Mission

wins best opening line with:

When you get to my age the candles cost more than the cake

4.) Red Right Hand - by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

(thank you Ardynium for reminding me this exists)

On a gathering storm comesa tall handsome manin a dusty black coat witha red right hand

You’ll see him in your nightmares,you’ll see him in your dreamsHe’ll appear out of nowhere buthe ain’t what he seems

5.) Fractured - by Zeromancer

Can’t you see my hands are cleanI’m as holy as can be

(can you just imagine this after Bahamut denies him the first time? Ouch)

6.) Left me for dead - by Rob Dougan

You didn’t stop to look ‘roundYou were gone before I hit the groundYou went on your wayAnd no prayer was saidAh, you left me for deadYou didn’t cover my faceI didn’t merit a communal graveYou set me asideAnd no tears were shedYou left me for dead

7.) Give me back the nights - by DJ Shadow

Give me back the nightsGive me back the agony of my solitudeThe nights I’ve spent aloneThe million endless solitary nights of my life

8.) Unbalanced Pieces - by Mark Lanegan

Something for that final battle:

The twilight’s bleedingAnd the playing board has two unbalanced pieces

9.) Lonely Soul - by UNKLE

I’m gonna die in a place that don’t know my nameI’m gonna die in a space that don’t hold my fameGod knows you’re lonely souls

10.) Reign - by UNKLE

I’m gonna reign this way again

11.) Days are forgotten - by Kasabian

A nice mix of part revenge song, part melancholy song

Days, days are forgottenNow it’s all overSimply forgottenHow to disappear

Cause I am taking back what’s mineI am taking back the timeYou may call it suicideBut I’m being born again

12.) Emperor’s New Clothes - by Panic! At the Disco (of course)

Done my time and served my sentenceDress me up and watch me die

Dynasty decapitatedYou just might see a ghost tonight

(also I love the fact that the word sycophancy is in this song)

13.) Ablivion - by UNKLE

So far gone I won’t ever stopFor all that I am, for all that I’m notSo far gone the edge I’m onI see it now, oblivion

14.) Proxy - by Saltillo

This one’s great - it’s mostly instrumental but features part of a speech from Shakepseare’s Henry IV, which is most fitting

I know not whether God will have it soFor some displeasing service I have done,That, in his secret doom, out of my bloodHe’ll breed revengement and a scourge for me.

15.) Cities beneath the sea - by Gravenhurst

I live on both sides of the mirrorFeel the pain that destruction bringsI want to help put everything in its placeI want to destroy everything

16.) Am I very wrong? - by Genesis

Am I very wrongTo wander in the fear of a never ending lie

They say, we hope your life will never end

17.) This Year’s Man - by Duels

Do your black wings beat like the black eyed crow?All your friendsHave sold you outIt’s so sad, rubberneckingTake control(Forgive us for what we have done)Adjust your aims(We never meant to hurt no one)

18.) The Rapture - by Puscifer

I see you lingerin’ 'roundLike a bad ideaPeddlin’ salvationThreatenin’ damnationAbout to drop you like CainLike Cain dropped Abel

19.) Seven Devils - by Florence and the Machine

See I was dead when I woke up this morningI’ll be dead before the day is done

[38-planes]

How the couple behind Come From Away created a Canadian musical hit

The Globe and Mail, 17 February 2017

Come from Away creators David Hein and Irene Sankoff struggled as artists, found each other as life and business partners and became the dynamic duo of the Canadian musical

For Valentine’s Day week, here’s a love story, times two.

It’s about how a Prairie dreamer with a guitar and a Toronto realist who always had a backup plan got together as romantic partners – and then, a decade later, saved their relationship and discovered a unique voice that would take them to Broadway by getting together again, as artistic partners.

Come from Away’s creators David Hein and Irene Sankoff, whose Newfoundland-set hit about the 38 planeloads of people stranded in Gander after 9/11 opens in previews on 45th Street on Saturday, told it one morning before departing for New York, in the living room of the two-storey Toronto home they bought in 2006 with the help of their parents, day jobs and a 35-year mortgage no longer offered by banks.

A decade later, they have a three-year-old named Molly, are working as artists full-time – and, financially, the picture looks a heck of a lot different. Best-case scenario, if Come from Away sells out in Manhattan the way it did in Seattle and Toronto, as sole authors of the work, they could pull in $27,000 (U.S.) a week – more every seven days than the average Canadian author or writer earns in a year.

That’s my estimate based on industry standards – but money is the one topic these two children of divorce who both, at times, lived in humble circumstances with their single mothers are sheepish about. “We grew up without a lot of money, so the whole thing makes me really nervous,” Sankoff says.

Hein further cites the statistic that only one in five shows on Broadway makes a profit. “Literally, we’re the fifth show out of five to go to Broadway from Canada – and one of them [2006’s The Drowsy Chaperone] has already made it!”

Falling in love

Their first love story is beautifully conventional: Hein, born in Regina, and Sankoff, from the Toronto suburb of North York, met on the first day of frosh week at York University in the 1990s. “Irene thinks it was a welcome barbecue; I think it was at a welcome pancake breakcast,” Hein says.

“Because it was outside, right?”

“You can eat pancakes outside.”

The aspiring songwriter and aspiring actress both loved theatre – but, musically, were divided. Hein, as a kid, through visits to the Winnipeg Folk Festival with his mother, had developed a taste for bands such as Blue Rodeo and Great Big Sea (a similar sound pervades Come from Away’s score), while Sankoff was a musical-theatre nut who danced all her life and bonded with her mother over old movie musicals. “My mom would come back after working to 11 or whatever on Christmas Eve and we would start watching Top Hat … or those old Gene Kelly musicals,” she recalls. “I was obsessed.”

But Sankoff was also an academic overachiever feeling pressure from the science-focused side of her family – and, while she acted extracurricularly at York, she graduated with a double major in psychology and creative writing.

The young couple’s first major fight was, as only a young couple’s could be, about whether theatre could change the world. They went at it until the sun came up – the dreamer trying to convince the realist.

Hein didn’t win the argument – but, on the verge of applying to do a master’s in speech and language pathology, Sankoff did decide to at least give acting a try professionally.

New York

So, in 1999, Sankoff and Hein moved to New York. Sankoff began studying at the Actors Studio – as seen on TV – and Hein, who has dual citizenship, began work as “assistant everything” at a music studio where The Muppets recorded, borrowing the equipment to record his own songs at night.

The pair lived in a residence called International House in Upper Manhattan along with grad students from 110 countries – and that’s where they were when, on Sept. 11, 2001, planes were flown into the twin towers of the World Trade Center. That night, windows shut to keep the smell of smoke out, scared students from around the world gathered around a piano in the residence for an impromptu concert – a moving experience Sankoff and Hein would later draw on for Come from Away.

But 9/11 had a more immediate impact on them. A month later, Hein woke up and said, “Hey, why don’t we get married?” They were already engaged – but on Oct. 12, 2001, they headed down to City Hall and secretly eloped.

Playbills from Hein and Sankoff’s New York years still hang on the kitchen wall of the house they share with their daughter and two cats, one named Elphaba (after the Wicked witch) and the other Gambo (after the Newfoundland town).

But it was not always a dream: Savings dwindled, the studio Hein was working at shut down, and Sankoff – who had an agent and was getting gigs – separated a shoulder in a dance class.

Uninsured, she took a trip to Toronto to see a doctor – and it turned into a move back home.

The second love story

Back in Canada, Hein and Sankoff had to build an artistic community from scratch. She landed a role in The Mousetrap; he released an album called North of Nowhere. And so it went for years – pursuing art at night and paying bills through tutoring or graphic design. Soon, they were married homeowners, but they barely got to see each other and grew lonely, especially when Hein was off on tour. Was this living the dream?

And this – in 2009 – is where the second love story begins.

Hein had written a song called My Mother’s Lesbian Jewish Wiccan Wedding – based on his own experience as the son of a woman who came out later in life and remarried – that was popular on tour. More than most of his work, it was influenced by the musical theatre that Sankoff had introduced him to over the course of their relationship. What if, he wondered, they could expand it into an actual musical – and, at the very least, spend some time together?

Marrying their skills, Hein and Sankoff began trying to turn their family’s story into a fictional musical – at first, a conventional “book musical” where an invisible fourth wall descends in front of the audience and scenes and songs alternate to tell a story.

But an epiphany Sankoff had on Valentine’s Day led the pair to a different writing style – one they later refined with Come from Away.

At the gym that day, Sankoff was talking with an enthusiastic friend about Wiccan Wedding – and heard her say, “The best thing about this is that it’s based on a true story.” A light bulb went on.

“I came home to David and said, ‘We’ve got to throw it out. Let’s tell the real story.’”

The new version the couple started working on during an unorthodox Valentine’s date would eventually feature Hein sitting on a stool in his Glass Tiger shirt, singing songs about his mother’s coming out, how he introduced his two moms to Irene at a Hooters and the history of same-sex marriage in Canada, using a troupe of actors that included his wife to tell the stories.

The sweet and direct show became a hit at the Toronto Fringe Festival that summer, then was picked up by producer David Mirvish to play at the city’s 700-seat Panasonic Theatre he had just purchased – and Sankoff and Hein’s career as commercial musical-theatre creators was launched.

When the idea to write a show about what happened in and around Gander, Nfld., in 2001 was proposed to them shortly thereafter by Michael Rubinoff at Sheridan College, it could not have been a more ideal project for them.

They had seen how strangers from around the world bonded, with music, on Sept. 11, and seen how music played a role in bringing them together – and they had found the right aesthetic for such a story, having learned that a musical could be a true story set in our times, told with plenty of direct address, and that authenticity was as important to winning over an audience as craft in lyrics and lines.

Armed with a $12,000 grant from the Canada Council, they headed to Gander for Sept. 11, 2011, to interview locals and “come from aways” returning to commemorate the 10th anniversary.

Hein and Sankoff’s subsequent five-year journey – buzz-creating workshops on both sides of the border, a bidding war by commercial producers at a showcase in New York, record-breaking runs in San Diego, Seattle, Washington and Toronto – has been told in these pages before.

Now, the last chapter is about to be written as final adjustments are made in a preview period ahead of a March 12 opening.

As the statistics show, Come from Away may not make them rich. Canadians who have had what are referred to as “flops” in the harsh language of Broadway – such as Cliff Jones, whose Rockabye Hamlet closed in a week in 1976; and Neil Bartram and Brian Hill, whose The Story of My Life did the same in 2009 – have advised the couple to just enjoy the ride.

In any case, the two have a bigger goal beyond making money, Hein says, “Especially now, it feels important to talk about welcoming refugees off planes, strangers into our communities.”

Yes – he’s finally won the argument about whether theatre can change the world.

Sankoff came around after meeting senior citizens who changed their minds on same-sex marriage after seeing Wiccan Wedding, and receiving letters from Come from Away audience members about how it’s inspired them to be better people.

“I still have my moments where I’m like, ‘It’s a drop in the bucket,’” Sankoff says. “But at least it’s a drop.”