#now I’m angry at my poor Drabble collections it’s not their fault

[amethysttribble]

I’m not ungrateful, I promise im not, but it is funny to me how people will read and kudos nearly every Silm fic I have on ao3 over the course of a day and still avoid Into the Heart of a Fey Thing like the PLAGUE asdfkgk

[taetaespeaches]

“I still choose you every single day.”

seokjin x reader (or oc) genre: angst; fluff word count: 2.1K

a/n: Hi, lovelies! Here’s a minor angst, mostly fluff piece to end your weekend with. This takes place about two days after their big fight in “I want to be happy about this but I’m just so angry”. Though they resolve the fight in “Love, we need to talk” this drabble deals with the remaining emotions and tension. As always, I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :)) 

WATCHING Jin sleep next to you, you wished you could keep him in that peaceful of a state forever. You’d been watching him take extra care of you the past couple days, choosing every word and action carefully as he tried to prove himself to you. His unconscious state each night was the only break he got from your mental burdens he always carried on his shoulders as if it was his responsibility to do so.

He had fallen asleep while you were spooning him, but you couldn’t fall into the same slumber. You stared at his back and you felt like soothing your hands across it, but you didn’t want to wake him.

The expanse of his back was large, his shoulders strong and wide. But it had to get tiresome carrying around his own worries, much less yours, didn’t it? And you had only added to the load, giving him more concerns.

There is a sense of responsibility you feel for a person when you love them so dearly. Their struggles are yours, and yours theirs. But part of that responsibility includes protecting each other’s happiness. It’s hard to come to terms with the realization that you aren’t contributing to your loved ones’ happiness, but are rather hindering it.

If only you could go back to two days ago. If only you could control your irrationalities.

Quietly and slowly, you peeled the blankets off your form, gently getting out of the bed. Creeping to the doorway, you turned to look at Jin still sleeping before you exited the bedroom. You continued your careful steps down the hallway as you made your way to the sofa.

As you sat in silence, staring out your window at the night sky, you thought about your recent fight with Jin. The idea of him not loving you seemed silly now, but you knew the feelings were very real at the time. But were those feelings conjured by his way of loving you or your way of receiving the love?

Sitting alone with your regrets, you started to realize it was on you. Of course you both were different and needed to meet each other in the middle more, but the big issue weighing on your mind was your own mental health and how it affected your relationship. Jin was an independent man, and he always had been, even when you were just friends. It never really bothered you unless you were having a rough time individually. That’s when the doubts crept in. And that wasn’t Jin’s fault.

A shadow appeared in the living room, silhouetted by the bright moon shining through the window, making you turn to look at Jin standing above you with messy bed hair and puffy eyes.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his voice quiet and husky.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you told him, watching as he pouted at you.

“Can I sit with you?” He asked, you smiling in response to his cuteness.

You patted the cushion next to you. “Come here, my love.” He sat down, immediately resting his head against your shoulder as you both stared out the window at the street lights that shined above the empty boulevards. You always loved the feeling of stillness in the very early hours of the morning. The outside world almost ceased to exist after 2 am.

Jin breathed deep and slow against your body and for a moment you almost thought he had fallen asleep. The poor man had been bending over backwards the last two days, trying to assure you and heal your wounds that he wasn’t even responsible for in the first place. It was heartbreaking seeing him try so hard to show something you both already knew he felt.

Just as you thought you were sure he was asleep, he rested his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly in his grasp. The roughness from the bandage on his pointer finger lightly scratched your skin, reminding you of the wound he’d received picking up the glass you broke two days earlier.

He insisted on picking up the glass from the tumbler you dropped and received a laceration on his finger pad. It turned out the injury was deeper than you both initially thought and kept bleeding for most of the day before, resulting in Jin having to change the bandage multiple times.

You gently ran your own pointer finger over the top of the bandage on the opposite side of the wound. “Does it still hurt?”

“Huh? No,” he shook his head, giving your leg another squeeze as if it proved he was healed. “I mean, not really, just a numb pain.” You lightly lifting his hand from your leg to study the digit. “It’s not bleeding anymore,” he told you. “Just a little sore.”

You hummed in thought. The wound wasn’t bleeding, but the pain was still there. Even if just a dull ache that was easily pushed aside in the busyness of the day, when things calmed down, the pain made itself known with a small throb.

When you shattered into pieces right in front of him, he attempted to collect your shards and he got cut. He put on a brave face, your man, but you knew that when everything slowed down, he was left with the lingering pain of your doubt.

Your unfounded skepticism in his love was pulling him apart, no matter how strong he tried to appear. You had projected your insecurities onto him and he absorbed them deep beneath his skin. You’d given him wounds, and maybe they weren’t bleeding, but they were solidifying into a little scar of remembrance.

“What are you thinking?” He asked you in a voice so quiet it was barely audible in the silence of the living room.

“You’re hurt,” you told him, dragging your finger tip along his knuckles as you kept your stare on his hand.

He leaned toward you, pressing his lips to your cheek bone. “Hardly,” he whispered against your face just before leaving a second sweet kiss. Resting his forehead against your temple, you sighed.

“No, I hurt you,” you told him, Jin pulling his head back to look at you in confusion, you slowly turning to meet his gaze. “I’m supposed to the one protecting you and here I am cutting you.”

Jin shook his head in negation. He knew what you meant but he refused to hear it. “The glass cut me, not you.”

“Jin,” you breathed out.

“What?” He asked you, suddenly looking much more awake than a few moments ago.

“Stop,” you whispered.

“Stop what?” He asked in confusion.  

“Stop tiptoeing around me and just,” you paused for a small moment, Jin staring at you intently. “Just say something, yell at me, tell me how much I hurt you, I don’t know, just do something.”

“I don’t want to yell at you,” he told you, his eyebrows pulling together as his eyes traveled your face. You stared at him feeling pitiful for putting him through this. “I don’t.” You wanted to shake him until his held back words and pent up emotions came tumbling out. Even if the words came out as daggers, you wanted them.

He sighed, sitting up a bit as he took your hands in his. “I need you to understand this, ok?” He asked you, you staring at him attentively. “I love you, of course I do, and I have for a long time, but what’s even more important than that is I choose you. That’s a conscious decision I make each day.”

You felt tears prick your eyes at the words and his intense expression softened just a bit.

“We’re not so naïve to actually think that loving each other is easy every single day,” he told you with a sad edge in his voice. “Sometimes it’s hard, love. We’re stubborn, and occasionally we’re selfish, and sometimes we’re just on totally different pages and don’t even realize the other’s needs. But I still choose you,” he told you, holding your gaze as he talked. “Every single day.” 

A tear slid down your cheek as you licked your lips. “I just don’t want to contribute to anything negative in your life, that’s not what a partner should do,” you told him and his eyes grew wider in surprise.

“I’m not saying I love it when we hurt each other or put each other through hell but it’s going to happen sometimes,” he said, squeezing your hands. “It’s not like we’re intentionally trying to cause the other harm. So, you get stuck in your head sometimes? So what?” He asked, so impassioned it was almost comical. “Those are the days choosing you is even more intentional.”  

Your shock at his words must have shown in your face, because Jin’s lips quirked up just slightly. “What?”

“Why are you so good at talking?” You let out a small chuckle, Jin’s smile widening.

“I mean it though. Are you ok?” He asked, concern etched in his fingers as soon as the smile faded.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Do you have more?”

“Yeah,” he smiled just slightly once more.

“Keep going,” you told him, adjusting your sitting position so you could face him more directly.

“I don’t want to hear anything about you protecting me from you. You were headed there and I don’t want to hear it, because that’s ridiculous. Just like I choose you, I choose who and what I let affect me. I appreciate your support and I want it, I really do, but I don’t need you to save me. Especially from you,” he told you, you staring at him thoughtfully.

“I just don’t want you to be stuck picking up my pieces all the time,” you told him sadly, Jin shaking his head immediately.

“We’re in a relationship, love, I’m going to help you carry your burdens. You do the same for me all the time, are you seriously forgetting that?” You sighed, and he rolled his eyes, nearly making you smile. “The days you’re shattered on the floor, you bet your ass I’m going to be there picking up as many of your pieces as I can. If you want to lighten the load for both of us, start showing up for yourself,” he told you softly.

You both sat in silence, eyes locked on one another’s as you searched for your next words. “Do you want me to say one more thing?” He asked, a smile spreading across your face, unable to hold it back.

“Please,” you let out a small chuckle.

Jin smiled back, soothing his thumbs over the back of your hands. “When I say I choose you, I mean I choose the good and the not so good. I choose the woman who battles insecurities every single day, I choose the woman who sometimes lets her mind play tricks on her, I choose the woman who has so many feelings she doesn’t even know what to do with them all, I choose the woman who would probably literally kill for me, I choose the woman who nurtures the hell out of not only me but the six idiots I spend my life with, I choose the woman who somehow really genuinely laughs at my jokes,” he adorably ranted, making you giggle. “I choose the woman who supports every single thing I do as if it’s the greatest thing that’s ever been done,” he continued on, you falling against his body in embarrassment.

“Stop,” you whined against his chest.

“What, too much?” He asked, through an obvious smile, you laughing as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. “I’m just saying, I know exactly who I’m choosing and I don’t take my decision lightly.”

“Ah, fuck I love you a lot,” you mumbled against his t-shirt covered chest, Jin chuckling as he left a kiss to the top of your head.

“Yeah, I know you do,” he joked, you groaning in response. “What’s not to love?”

Sitting up, you glared at him. “You’re supposed to say it back.”

His eyes blew up wide as he got his ranting expression on. Oh god. “As if I didn’t just express my deep and profound love to you,” he yelled in exasperation, you giggling loudly at the man.

“Tell me again,” you teased, Jin lunging at you as he pushed your back to the couch cushions, you laughing as he did so.

“I choose you, I love you, you’re my world,” he started mumbling against your face as he pressed kisses to your features, you laughing and screaming at a volume that was much too loud for 3 am, but neither of you cared, finally feeling light and happy again for the first time in days, and really, months.  

[themissingmarvel]

Kind Regards, Detective [Part 6]

(So, forgive me for this both: being long, and not having a lot of Loki in it. I understand if this chapter turns people off or doesn’t get a lot of love. I won’t be hurt by it. But it needed to be done. So hopefully I don’t lose readers but if I do, like I said, I understand.

Catch up:  [Part 1] // [Part 2] // [Drabble] // [Part 3] // [Part 4] // [Drabble 2] // [Part 5]

Pairing: Detective Loki x fbi!Reader

Word Count: 3.7k [yikes]

Warnings: Language. Poor life choices. )

Back when Y/N was in undergrad, she remembered one of her classmates affectionately telling her she was afflicted with what was known as “resting bitch face”. She became known as the Queen of the RBF within her circles, and honestly it remained with her. But it was protective, and in times like this, when a precinct was staring at you, you had to protect yourself.

One of the things that would come up was a conflict of interest, she knew that immediately. Her supervising agent would be concerned about a package sent directly to her. No one would know the depth of it, though. They’d know it was in reference to her sister’s passing, but the song? The CD itself? She could lie. And she would. Even when her phone rang and she ignored it, she kept her face stoic and her eyes locked on the computer, scanning over the evidence collected from the scene still.

“Agent Y/N, there’s a call for you from the bureau-” a young officer, though not a rookie, popped his head in.

She didn’t even look up, “That’s cool.”

Loki glanced from her to the officer who looked more confused than anything. Clearly that was not the answer he was hoping for.

“I mean, they want to talk to you.” He suddenly got quieter. Meeker.

Again, she didn’t even pause, “Nice of them. I’ll send them a thank-you card later.”

Now the officer was confused, “Did you want to answer it out front or I can-”

“Tell them I’m dead. Or I’m in the bathroom. Whatever. I’m busy so please don’t come in again.” Her eyes glanced briefly from the screen to the man who got the hint, his mouth in a straight line as he backed out of the room, entirely missing David Loki’s very soft smirk.

But she was. Busy, that was. Not dead. She had found a few interesting leads, and was suddenly finding a rather disturbing pattern, “David, c’mere a sec. I need you to look at this and tell me I’m not crazy,” she looked across the table at the man who’d been poring over the papers and pictures, hating to look at bodies but knowing now was not the time to be squeemish. He thought his note was bad… hers was tenfold. Whatever it was. He didn’t know about her sister. Or any of her life, really. He knew what she had shared. He was vaguely terrified that this would stop all of it.

Standing, he walked over to where she was, a spreadsheet open, “So look,” she held up a finger, glancing back to the man who was leaning over, face by hers as he looked at the screen, the moment intense, though far from intimate, “if we follow the purchases, the television is old but beyond state-of-the-art, telling us it was pricy. And you don’t leave pricy things behind, especially if you think you can be traced. And when we tracked the generator down, it was from a different manufacturing company, so both were dismissed out of hand. But when we add in the piece about the phone company provider and the chemical weapon used… Look.”

She brought up a page of a very formal looking website, Safety in the palm of your hand was the caption under the large “West Company” logo in block letters at the top. David knew of them, but clearly Y/N knew more, “The company does a lot of work with technology and weapon engineering. The federal government has a contract with them, so we’ve worked with them before. David, they even have a lab on site…”

He stood back, looking down at her with focus and concern. Without the chemical agent to go off of, the connection might be a reach. But the fact that it all tied to one company, and one that would have direct links to technology to reach into… anything, meant it was a good chance that the person they needed would be there.

“So what do we do with this? I mean, that’s a huge company. And with a defense contract, they’re probably not gonna wanna talk to you,” David crossed his arms in front of his chest, concern on his features. She was a bloodhound who had finally picked up a scent and he had a sinking feeling she’d chase that scent, regardless of what came in her way.

Nodding, she closed the laptop, “Normally that’d be true, but I may have a way into the company records. I can’t divulge why. I just need you to trust me.” Her eyes were wide. And pleading. She had just been hit with a wrecking ball and already she was back on her feet, but David knew she was hurting. And pain made you do stupid things. But she was slowly becoming his weak spot.

Pushing back his hair he sighed, “Fine. What do we do next?”

Standing up and grabbing her phone that had more missed calls than she could reasonably get away with, she shrugged, “We don’t do anything. I make a call, and you keep going over evidence. I have to go back and grab something at the hotel. I left a file back there we’ll need to keep moving forward on this.”

There was something in her voice, her tone perhaps, or her body language. David would blame himself later, as he always did, for not noticing. He’d tell himself it was his fault. He should have known she wasn’t going to the hotel, or at least that wasn’t her final stop. And as she walked outside without her federal issued phone, only her keys and wallet in hand as she held her jacket tight, she understood what had to happen.

_____

She wasn’t lying. Not completely. She had gone to the hotel and grabbed her personal phone, the one she used for calling her parents, listening to music, listening to audiobooks when she was stuck on airplanes, or in this case, long car drives alone. But her first call had been, surprising to most, to Henry Best. The man was one of the top CEO and board members of West Company and one she knew better than most. It was the way she had into the company.

Henry had been surprised to hear her voice, though not disappointed. He had liked Y/N when he met her four years back, when she had just begun her profiling in the field. Back when she was still wet behind the ears, so to speak. And that she was calling on her personal phone made him even more curious, “Of course. Around when should I expect you?” His voice, smooth as silk with a ‘proper’ British accent, a voice that could melt a woman without effort, came forth.

Glancing at the dashboard of her car, Y/N shrugged, “GPS says it’s another hour. So around 3pm, if that’s all right? Honestly, I hate to barge in like this. And I know you’re doing more than a favor. Especially since the FBI doesn’t even know-”

There was a soft chuckle, the man on the other end smiling, “Please don’t apologize. It would be my pleasure to see you again. After all, it is you I have to thank for where I am now, is it not?” A genuine kind of thanks to his voice, though something else lingered. Perhaps not strong enough for the bluetooth in the car to detect.

Either way, she felt herself smiling as she eyed the guidance system, “That was all your own work, Henry. But we can talk more when I get there. Do I check in at the front desk?” She was adjusting herself in her seat, suddenly a little nervous. She really hadn’t thought this through. And she was still wearing… well, a sweater and jeans. And her hair wasn’t well done, either. Fuck, she really did not think this through.

“I’ll have someone waiting out front to valet the car, don’t worry about parking. Mark will bring you up. Take your time.” He was calm. Cool. Collected. More than he had been before. It was kind of nice.

She nodded, to no one in particular, “Will do. See you in an hour, Henry.” She clicked off the phone, continuing her drive.

Her phone rang again, though this time the number came up as Delete This Later, “Madison is on a rampage. And now I have some podunk Detective Loki- Hey, what kind of name is that even? Whatever, anyway, this dude is calling me wanting to know where you are. I made some shit up about you needing to coordinate with another office. I still have Madison on a rampage, though. He’s your boss. Remember him?”

Rolling her eyes, she was already regretting giving Adrian her personal number, “Thank you for covering. I’m actually headed to see Henry Best. Over at West Company. Who knew my name was so memorable?” She smirked.

Adrian huffed, “Just don’t do anything stupid. Well, more stupid than you already have. Wits about, right?”

She cocked a sideways smirk, “Always. And you know the deal. Call David at 3pm, when I’m due in New York to meet with Henry. I’ll text you the address. And you can give him this number. Otherwise the guy will have a heart attack,” she sighed softly.

There was quiet for a moment before Adrian spoke again, “What did he send you, Ladybug? That guy. I haven’t seen you like this since the Boston case when you almost bumped into the dude we were after. I’m worried.”

But she was quiet. Too quiet.

“Nothing’s gonna happen. I just have a feeling Henry will be able to help.”

___

He had called her. He had called her twice before realizing the ringing was coming from inside her bag. He had thrown his own phone across the room, though one cased in an Otterbox after the officer manager was tired of him breaking phones. Instead, it bounced off and hit the ground. He had wanted to break something. Fucking anything.

It was a flurry of words after that, David having rolled his sleeves up, his hair repeatedly needing to be slicked back as his face looked vaguely similar to John Wick finding his dog dead. He kept telling himself he was angry because she was in harm’s way, and that was true, but there was something more. This woman he had felt vulnerable with, who had in turn shared her own vulnerabilities, was gone. And he knew that she was gone because she was chasing something that not even God himself could stop her from getting. She was on a mission.

David was a driven man just as much, however, and he had gotten through to Y/N’s unit by sheer force of will on the phone. He had kept it together enough that he was actually able to get through to someone named “Adrian Dent” who worked closely with her. The one who had texted her ‘ladybug’ and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like Adrian. No idea why, but when the smug asshole gave him a regurgitated message about her meeting with another agent in another city, he understood it was a lie.

But what else did he have? He was sitting by himself in the conference room they were using, staring at a laptop that had the company name on it. And he knew. He didn’t know exactly, but he knew. And fuck waiting. Fuck telling his chief. Fuck all of it. He was headed to New York City just the same as she was. ____

It had been strange, walking into the large, sleek office building. The floors were marble and the colors back and silver were clearly the aesthetic. She had trailed behind a young man who looked to be no older than twenty-two, probably scored this gig right out of a prestigious college, wanting to work his way into the defense industry. What a strange goal. No stranger, perhaps, than wanting to be an FBI Field Agent.

He was quiet as he lead her up, his earpiece wired in as they took a private elevator to the… damn, fiftieth floor? Last time she could have sworn it was forty. But that was four years ago.

Stepping off the elevator that looked like something out of Blade Runner, she followed the assistant carefully down the hall, carpeted in black with dark wood lining it. Far fewer people here. And it was clear, by the large double doors ahead, that this was where she was going, “Mr. Best is inside, you may enter.” He looked almost smug. She didn’t belong. He knew it. She knew it.

Shrugging off her winter jacket, she knocked on the door, heading the rather gentle, “Please, come in,” beckoning her forth.

It had been four years since she saw him, but Henry looked amazing. He had before but… there was something else now. His dark blonde hair was styled on his head, not slicked down but a certain casual and professional look to it. He had on a white business shirt, black tie tight around his neck though with his sleeves rolled up. And he, of course, was gorgeous. Blue eyes that felt like they could stop you in your tracks, angular features that made him all the more distinguished. He looked good.

And the office was amazing. An entire wall was purely windows, looking out at the impressive New York City skyline. It was like being in a movie. Her entire life she had never existed in a world like this, and now she was investigating a serial killer in an office that looked so extraordinary it hurt. Book shelves, a large desk by the back where he had been standing, oak, of course. He smiled, a sort of crooked smile that, were she paying attention, would have concerned her more. But he was smiling as he walked over, “Oh, please, let me take that. Shouldn’t have you lugging this around,” he smiled as he got close, taking the jacket from her hands, draping it over a chair nearby.

Nervous, suddenly, she pushed back her hair, “Thank you… and sorry about not being dressed for the occasion… Like I said, kind of a rush deal getting here,” she laughed nervously, fidgeting.

“Nonsense. You look wonderful, if I may say so. Would you care to take a seat? I wager you’ve just driven a bit of a ways, so I’ll understand if you’d like to stand.” There was care in his voice and tone, and suddenly she was struck by how strange it was. She tended to trust her gut, and suddenly it was telling her to be aware.

Smiling with her placating, plastic smile, she shook her head, “I’m happy to sit.”

He looked satisfied with the answer, gesturing to the table in the corner, two cups and a teapot on it, “Please, take a seat. May I offer you some tea?” He sat across from her, his movements graceful and purposeful, and perhaps almost serpent-like.

She held up a hand, “No thank you. Long drive back, don’t want to have to make pit stops,” she smiled at the man who looked… content. Relaxed. Hardly what she remembered before.

He was pouring himself a cup, Y/N looking around as she noticed a plant on his desk. Well, one. And flowers on his window. Gorgeous lilies. And orchids. Succulents were on two shelves of the book cases. She couldn’t help but smile, “Quite a lot of greenery around your office, Henry.”

Taking a sip of the tea, he smiled, “After we spoke those years ago, I took you up on your suggestion. I began gardening. Took a month off, worked on myself, and began gardening. Hobbies really are a lifesaver, aren’t they?” He was watching her now, able to see that brief moment of her eyes widening, ever so slightly, her breath catching in her throat. He could see her wheels turning. But she was no mere rabbit. Fear was not something that drove her.

And true, in her own mind she was rationalizing it, “I’m glad it seemed to work for you. Having a hobby like that can be therapeutic. And it seems like our meetings got you back on track. How have things been now?”

Of course, she was referring to the incident that had lead her to his office years ago. He had lost his wife in a rather tragic car accident. From what he had told the police, they had gotten into a fight, and before he could stop her, she had gotten her keys and driven off. She’d wound up running a red light at a major intersection and was killed on impact.

Something was clicking, now. His face changed every so slightly when she asked how things had been. Hobbies. Not just gardening. And now she was poking at the wound.

He nodded, quite like the gentleman he was, “Much better. Work has been consuming much of my time. I imagine you’re in a similar boat. I always sensed we were quite alike in that way,” he placed the tea back down and smiled at her.

There was a feeling of anger that came with the comment, though she was unsure why. It wasn't rude in any way, nor did it infer anything negative about her. But it felt personal.

“Speaking of work… I’m here because I think I have a lead on my case. And not to be an alarmist, I’m somewhat concerned they’re linked with your company somehow,” she eyed him carefully.

He looked out the window with a bit of a chuckle, “We have quite a few employees, you know. Do you have anything more to go off of? I’d love to help you, but that’s quite a broad brush to be painting with, Y/N,” his smile was daring this time. He was playing with her. What may not have been personal now was. But he was fishing, too. He wanted to see what she had. If she’d divulge.

She was many things in this world. Stupid was not on that list.

“If you could set me up with someone in human resources, I might be able to go over a filter given some of the profiles I have set up. Think you could make an exception for me?” She forced a smile, hoping, perhaps, she was wrong about that feeling in her gut. The feeling that was screaming at her, louder now, telling her to get out of the building. To find her car. But he had that, didn’t he? He had insisted he park it for her. Insisted he take her up through the private elevator. And she had complied.

Maybe she was wrong.

“Were I a different man, I might argue against it. But you’ve done quite a bit for me, Y/N, more than you know. You helped me realize my potential in those meetings. The kind of man I could be. And so of course, Agent Y/L/N, I would be more than honored to help. After what you’ve done for me. Truly, it stayed with me.” He smiled. And he was being honest. Sincere. She had made an impact in his life that had changed the entire course of his world. He had gone from a man on the brink of losing his life to drugs and alcohol over the loss of his true love, to a man who had channeled his grief into something else. He understood what it meant to lose.

A feeling of relief washed over her and she smiled, more sincere this time, “That’s really kind of you. And if it means anything, I always knew you’d come back from it. It’s why I recommended the board keep you on. We all have choices in life, I’m glad you made yours.”

A small ‘chirp’ came from the digital watch on the man’s wrist, looking down as he grimaced slightly, “Seems I’ve had an unfortunate emergency arise. I’ve got your number, so I’ll be sure to give you a call when I can locate someone in HR who can work remotely. Wouldn’t want you taking the trek back and forth from Conyers again, would we? You said over the phone the Detective you’re working with is stationed there as well,” He smiled as he stood, the agent doing the same.

He handed her the jacket she’d come in with, walking her to the door. And for a moment, she knew she could walk out and it would be the end of it. Her gut would stop screaming at her, now from the top of its lungs, and maybe she could get out unscathed. She could simply walk to the elevator and find a way to do things on her terms. She knew, deep down, that she could walk out the door confident in her own beliefs and he would be confident that she had only the brief terror that prey does when suspecting a predator nearby.

Instead, she turned as she walked out the door, her eyes locking onto his, “I meant to ask, you have so many different plants and flowers, do you have any favorites? I’m a lavender woman, myself,” she smiled strongly, forcing herself to speak now as she felt the rest of herself coming undone.

And he smiled. The smile that would seal in every fear she had, every terror that she would feel, every nightmare that would haunt her, and she knew that look in his eyes with that smile as he spoke, “Oh, my dear, it’s roses I love best. Give my kindest regards to Detective Loki, won’t you?”

It took every ounce of strength she had to stay standing as he closed the door with the look of a man she had seen once. The man who had fallen apart but was wearing the mask of something else. She understood his comment, now. Two sides of the same coin. Two people shaped by tragedy. Two lives changed in a moment. And a grin on his face that felt like a bullet to her chest.

Kind Regards indeed.

Fuck.

(Tagging: @escapingthoughtsandsecrets​ @is-it-madness​ @detecellie​ @doritosandavocados​ @oscarflysaac​ @peccobagnaia​ @fgtakbrjbdl​ @miss-missing-patd​ send me a message to be added/removed)

[axwalker]

Now and Then 1: Beginnings

This will be a mini-series (4 or 5 chapters), and I’ll be using the weekly prompts of the lovely  @emceesynonymroll​  WACKY DRABBLES.

This week’s prompt is  #40: “Don’t you ever do that again” and will appear in bold.

Synopsis:  The story of Alexis’s and Drake’s friendship since they met when they were 10 years old until they become roommates after college. (AU) Fluff with a tad of angst. 

MASTERLIST

Warning: This is a +18 blog. Maybe NSFW in the future 

Pairing: Drake x ?, Alexis x ?

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry

Word count: 1496

Thanks to my beautiful beta reader @pedudley​

Permatag list: @pedudley​ @pug-bitch​ @burnsoslow​ @mskaneko​ @twinkle-320​ @kimmiedoo5​ @ac27dj​ @marshmallowsandfire​ @loveellamae​

One shots: @princessleac1​

Now and Then: @ravenpuff02​ 

September 2005

Lexie O’Brien and Drake Walker’s friendship started when they were 10 years old and she had challenged him and his friends to a soccer game. Lexie was fed up. The boys never wanted to play with her or her girlfriends, but they hogged the school’s soccer field every afternoon. She decided to fix it with a simple bet. If the girls won, the coach would have to create mixed teams.

At the end of the match, they were tied 4-4, but the coach was impressed by them and had accepted her proposition.

That afternoon, Drake found himself waiting with her for their parents to pick them up. Lexie sat with her chin resting on her knees, her orange backpack next to her. Drake noticed that it had a badge of Barcelona’s soccer team.

“Barcelona?” He asked, curious.

Lexie beamed at him. “Best team ever!”

“The best team ever is Liverpool,” he said, smugly.

She stood up excited. “What are you talking about?  Barcelona has Ronaldinho!” She took the ball and tried to dribble, unsuccessfully. “One day, I’ll dribble like him,” she declared in a dreamy voice.

He looked at her stupefied. “You’re really intense.”

“That’s what my mom says.” She shrugged.

“Why isn’t she here?”

“She’s working. My abuelita has a Mexican restaurant. Sometimes they’re too busy so she’s late. And your mom?”

Drake lowered his eyes, embarrassed. “She’s not in Cordonia. I live with my dad.” And he’s always late.

She nodded empathetically; adults were a mystery to her. She kneeled down and put her hand over his shoulder. “My dad left too.”  

Drake didn’t reply. He hated to talk about his family. After a silent moment, Lexie kicked a stone, angrily. They had been waiting for more than 30 minutes.  

She suddenly had an idea, she hoped he’d be onboard, but she wasn’t sure. Drake wasn’t the friendliest boy she had met. “Do you live far from here?”

Drake frowned, she sure was nosey. “Like fifteen minutes. Why?”

“Me too! In Valtoria Avenue. We can walk together.”

Drake was angry with his dad for being late. And leaving would teach him a lesson. But he didn’t want to go with her. She was only a girl.

“I’ll go, but you stay here. Your mom will come soon.” He threw his bag over his shoulder and started walking.

She ran and stood in front of him her hands on her hips. “Hey! It was my idea. I want to come too.”

He rolled his eyes, annoyed. “Whatever, just don’t get ran over by a car or something.”

“I know how to cross the street, smarty-pants,” she sassed, annoying him even more.

They walked silently for ten minutes when her stomach growled. “I think I’m hungry,” she admitted as she placed her hands on her belly.

“Yeh, I’m hungry too.”

“Look, Ben and Jerry’s!” She pipped pointing to their left.

He hesitated for a minute; His dad would be furious if he didn’t come home fast. But she seemed really hungry, and he could bet his entire collection of Pokémon cards that she was going to nag him all the way back to their houses, if she didn’t eat something. He had his allowance money in his pocket, so he decided to go for the ice cream.

They chatted all the way back, mostly about Harry Potter. Both of them liked the books more than the movies but they were both waiting the release of the ‘The Goblet of Fire’ frantically.

Her heart stopped when she saw a police car in front of her house. “My mom called the police. She’s going to kill me.”

Drake felt a knot in the pit of his stomach. “That’s my dad’s car, he’s a policeman.”

She widened her eyes. “Wow! That’s cool!”

“Not as much as you think, he’s never there,” he said with a small voice.

Soon, they saw a fuming Jackson and a furious Elena coming out of the house.

“Alexis! What were you thinking?” Elena was enraged but she hugged her daughter tightly. “What you did is so dangerous, Lexie.”

Lexie blushed furiously; she didn’t want to be scolded in front of Drake. “I’m not a little girl, mom.”

“Yes, you are, mija (my daughter). We’ll talk later. Now, go inside, I have to talk Mr. Walker.”, she said pointing her finger to the house

Lexie was about to protest, but her mother was the only human on earth that scared her. She entered the house obediently.

Jackson turned to his son. “You know how irresponsible this was, Drake?”

Drake refused to be reprimanded, it was his father’s fault. “You were late, dad. Again.”

Jackson knew his son was right, since Bianca had left with Savannah, he juggled to maintain a balance between his work and his fatherly duties. And he had to admit that he wasn’t doing a great job.

“That’s not an excuse, Drake. You can’t leave like that.”

Drake wanted to reply, but Jackson interrupted him, raising his hand. “No excuses. Don't you ever do that again. Understood?”

His son nodded and got in the car.

Jackson turned to Elena. “Is everything okay now, Ms. O’Brien?”

“Everything is fine now, thanks for coming with me to the house. I thought I was going to die when I didn’t see her at the school.” She nodded towards the car where Drake was waiting. “I bet he’s hungry. Poor little thing. You can eat with us. I brought tacos dorados from the restaurant. I don’t like to brag but they’re the best in the city” Without giving Jackson time to think, she went to the car and opened the door. “Come on, kid. Let’s go eat.”

Jackson considered his options. He could serve his son a frozen pizza and a bag of salad, or he could let him eat something cooked for once. “Thank you, Elena.”

Elena took Drake to Alexis’s room where she was still brooding. Her face lit up when she saw him. “Drake! I thought you left!”

“Your mom invited us to diner. Well, she actually didn’t give my dad a choice.” He grinned. “It was pretty cool. Usually, no one tells him what to do”

Lexie smiled, proudly. “That’s my mom. She’s very bossy.”

Drake looked around. Her room was chaotic. His dad complained a lot about his mess, but it was nothing compared to this.

He had expected a room like Savannah’s but, it actually was more similar to his own. She had soccer posters everywhere, of the wrong team, but still. She obviously hadn’t lied about loving Harry Potter, she had Hermione Granger’s and Ron Weasley’s pictures all over the walls.

“I thought you were a Harry’s kinda girl, Lex.”

No one had called her Lex before, but she liked it. “I like Harry, but my fave is Hermione. She’s so cool!”

He teased her, “the best friend? You do know that Harry is the main character, right?”

She shrugged. “I like Harry, but I prefer Ron and Hermione. He’s a good friend and she’s the smartest witch. Plus, I bet they’re in love.”

Drake grimaced before speaking. “The coolest is Sirius Black.”

She beamed at him as she pointed to the wall. There was a framed quote:

‘We’ve all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That’s who we really are.’ Sirius Black.

Drake made the desk’s chair spin as he declared, “You’re cool for a girl.”

She squinted at him. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know, you don’t like Barbies and you play soccer.” He shrugged.

She opened a trunk in the corner of her room. “I do like Barbies. A lot. I just like soccer too. My mom says there’s no girl’s and boy’s stuff. Just stuff”

He sat on the floor, crossing his legs. “My dad wouldn’t agree with that.”

She took out a game of Monopoly. “Is this guy enough for your dad? I have Battleship too,” she said, teasingly.

Drake shook his head; she was a huge pain in the ass, but he kind of liked her. “Monopoly is okay.”

From that day on, Drake and Jackson would often have dinner in the O’Brien’s house. Elena didn’t mind watching Drake when Jackson had a late shift, so the boy spent a lot of afternoons in their restaurant playing and doing homework with Lexie. Jackson took them camping as often as he could. The three of them loved stargazing, so Jackson built with them a homemade telescope to teach them everything he knew about the stars and the constellations. Elena took them to all the Harry Potter movies and book signings. They both loved the sea so one of their parents took them to the beach every weekend. They discovered a hidden cove and named it their place. They used to go there to share their secrets or build forts and sandcastles.

When they were at school, they had other friends as well, but no matter how much Olivia or Liam teased them or how often and fiercely they fought each other, their friendship grew older with them.

[virareve]

While languishing over the fic exchange, I recently noticed that some of the first few times I shared some drabbles/one shots I posted from a collection of short J/B writings I’ve put up on AO3, I was just sharing a link to the main work and not the specific chapter. I wanted to reshare some of the ones I was most proud of/cared about the most that I didn’t properly link to previously.

For anyone who prefers, I’m posting the text to the chapter below as well. :)

Summary:   Unsent Letters from Kingsguard's Lord Commander Jaime Lannister are leaked to the press.

King's Landing Chronicles, Issue 1011

Excerpt from page 2:

Love Letters from the Lord Commander By Pia Waters

Once thought the coldest, cruelest man in the Six Kingdoms, unsent letters from the head of the royal Kingsguard’s Lord Commander shed light into the enigma that is Jaime Lannister, and reveal that he is not so much a mystery as he is a man with his own inner turmoils and a love long gone.

Content leads royal experts to believe that the letters were penned sometime after he was reinstated to the Kingsguard, following the execution of Dowager Queen Cersei, his sister, for plots against the crown. (This was the last time state sanctioned capital punishment was permitted before 'Ned's Law' was enacted and banned capital punishment throughout the six kingdoms.) Readers will also notice the subject of the letters does not appear to be the late Queen, his alleged lover for most of his career. Many are surprised by the emotional depth thought nonexistent in the man the press popularly dubbed the Kingslayer but King Tommen and the newly coronated Queen…( Cont. on Pages 5-7 )

- - -

King's Landing Chronicles, Issue 1011

Excerpt from page 7, The Last Letter:

What is more beautiful, my love? Love lost or love found? Don't laugh at me, my love. I know it. I'm awkward and naive when it comes to love. I ask questions straight out of a pop song. This doubt overwhelms me and undermines me, my love. To find...or to lose? All around me, people don't stop yearning. Did they lose or did they find? I can't say. A motherless child, who is raised by a heartless father, has no way of knowing. He lacks a first love. The love for his mother and father. That's the source of his awkwardness, his naiveté. You said to me, as the snow whirled down on us in Winterfell, "Stay." But I didn't do it. There, my love, is love lost. That's why I've never stopped wondering, since that day: Where have you been? Where are you now? And you, the shining pinnacle of my regrets, did you lose or did you find? I don't know. And I will never know. It hurts to even remember your name, my love. And I don't have the answer. But this is how I like to imagine it, the answer. In the end, my love, we have no choice. We have to find.

- - -

Brienne dropped the paper, swiping at the tears in her eyes.

“Oh Jaime,” she sighed, feelings of nostalgia bubbled in her. Now that so much time had passed, it no longer hurt to think of him. And her mind could only think of him now. Jaime with his part-time irksome, part-time cheeky smile. And his mischievous green eyes. Or his gazelle-like gait. Or the way he smiled and she felt like it was just for her.

It was nice to feel like that.

It was nice to feel warm at the memory of Jaime and not angry at herself for remembering him.

She traced the text on the glossy paper of King's Landing Chronicles. Sansa had mailed it in from the mainland with the insistence that she read it.

When Brienne and Jaime had stopped seeing each other nearly eleven years ago she'd been heartbroken and distraught. The memories in Winterfell had quickly proven too much and she left her new home for her old one. It was a comforting choice in the end. There was something welcoming that she felt on Tarth that she had not felt before. Something that perhaps the change she sought inside of her, and had experienced on the mainland, allowed for as she sought to build a life of her own.

Over a decade since, and she felt calm in knowing she’d met that goal. That her life in smalltown Morne was something that existed without ghosts of her dead mother and siblings and memories of a man she expected would never enter her life again.

Unburdened, she sat comfortably at the dining table her father had carved for her and her family. The laughs from her children, young and precocious and so full of love, teased into the house through the open windows. They were accompanied by the squeaks of skin against water and thick plastic as her children went through the slip-n-slide she’d made for them, over and over again.

Oh, how she loved Gal and Alys.

The choice to embrace motherhood and start a family after she’d given up on ever finding love again, had been easily the most rewarding thing in her life. It was something she had wanted as much as she wanted to fall in love. Raising her two had been a balm for so many internalized wounds, and the pain that used to flare constantly became forgotten and relegated to a dusty corner of her memories.

And yet to know that she’d still been on his mind brought a sharp relief to know that Brienne of yesteryears had not been a fool. She’d been in love and had been loved. None of that could be called a mistake.

Learning what had been in his mind, she could say, too, that the end was not her fault. Here was physical evidence to put her fears at bay and tell herself “Look, you are whole! It was him who was broken!”

But it sounded rather cracked and jaded and Brienne wasn’t feeling cracked and jaded herself. She had loved him and he had loved her.

Not all who loved were allowed to be together. It was the theme of her own parents’ tragically short love story and she would be remiss to think it could never apply to her. As sad as likening her story to her mother and father's was, she could also find the evidence she needed to point out to herself that what had existed in those brief months was a love story.

It had to have been. Because once he’d left, Brienne had never wanted to love another man again. The ending might have been harsh, but the rest of it was a fairytale. No one could ever know her, ever understand her, as well as he had. She had been prepared to never be loved in life and now that she had experienced a love to end all loves, she didn’t ever want to fill in the gap with a poor replacement.

She no longer felt like she needed to.

Brienne shook her head and stood up from the table, brushing her fingers gently over Jaime’s words one more time.

“Love bugs!” she called out, making her way down the back porch, pulling off her own clothes to reveal her own swimsuit underneath, “Wanna learn a trick you didn’t know Mommy could do?”

She jogged slowly past them in the direction of the nearby cove.

“Yeah!” they screamed joyfully.

They took off as fast as their much smaller legs could take them and crashed into her sides, each grasping for one of her hands. Alys was quick to intertwine her long, nimble fingers with her mother’s left, while Gal was clumsily forceful as he wrapped both his hands around her right in an airtight clasp.

Leading the children on, Brienne brought them to a short cliff overlooking the cove and kneeled before them, “Now we’re only ever going to do this with Mommy’s permission and an adult with you okay?”

The two of them nodded vigorously, enthusiastic at the prospect of whatever she was going to show them.

“Alright,” Brienne grinned, standing up and letting go of their hands. “Watch me and do what I do.”

Putting a good distance between her and the cliff's edge, Brienne squatted down into a runners position and quickly pressed off against the earth with a mighty push, speeding towards the edge. On reaching it, she pushed off with all her might and yelled into the air with a freeness she rarely allowed herself.

“Goldenhand!” she screamed, like a knight invoking the legends beside her into battle.

She’d forgotten what it was like to freefall in exposed air, exhilarating and a little bit terrifying all at once. But the air was warm and her hair experienced its own descent as gravity pulled her down and she couldn't help the want to yell again. So she did.

The ocean welcomed her lovingly when she breached the surface and for a moment, Brienne thought of Jaime, taking her just outside of Casterly Rock, encouraging her to take the leap.

Above the children cheered when she surfaced, then swam backwards to put space between her and the bottom of the cliff.

“Your turn!” she yelled, cupping her hands to her face.

Gal and Alys looked at each other. They grinned and moved away from view.

With them out of sight, Brienne briefly allowed her eyes to close, lapsing into that memory of Jaime, sunkissed and smirking as he pulled her after him into the water. His bright, light laugh as she screamed bloody murder and he yelled out “Goldenhand!” like it was the normal battle cry for this sort of event.

“Goldenhand!” the children screamed out in delight and she opened her eyes to watch Gal and Alys catch air. Of course, without her there, they’d decided to jump in holding tightly to each other’s hands.

Brienne couldn’t stop the love that overwhelmed her heart.

Their identical faces were lit with joy. Their golden hair fluttered in the Tarth wind.

When they surfaced, they paddled over to her, trying to talk over the other in their battle to hold all her attention. Their emerald green eyes glittered with impish glee.

[archivednerdfics]

Here’s a set of some drabbles I did all centered around Steve taking care of (or sometimes being taken care of by) the kids. (There are also more Steve and the Kids drabbles on the last set I posted). Each was inspired by a prompt that was sent to me based off of a bunch of prompt lists I reblogged on my main blog @lizzysong (prompt submissions are still open over on my main if you want to send some, too). I hope you enjoy these!

________________________________________

Prompt: “Your room looks like it was decorated by a perverted jockey.” Max and Steve lmao.

Max had shown up at his front door with her skateboard held in one hand, and tears streaming down her face. She hadn’t called to tell Steve she was coming; the fight she’d had with Billy was bad and she didn’t want to stay in the house any longer – especially to call Steve and potentially put him in danger. So she’d grabbed her skateboard and showed up on the doorstep of the teenager who treated her the way a brother actually should.

“Max?” said Steve when he opened the door. He took in the girl’s appearance and realized that she must’ve had another fight with her so-called brother, “What happened?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” she said, looking down at the ground, and then slowly up at him, “…Can I come in?”

“Yeah; ‘course you can,” the older of the two said as he moved aside so that Max could enter the house.

She had never actually been in his house before; he usually babysat her and the rest of the party at the Byers’ house or the cabin that El and Hopper lived in; and as she looked around she realized just how well-off the teenager was. She’d known he wasn’t as poor as she was, of course, but she hadn’t realized that he was rich, either.

She left her skateboard by the door and started wandering around the house. Steve didn’t mind – it was actually kinda nice to have someone else in the large, usually empty house.

A loud laugh came from upstairs followed by an, “Oh my god!”

Steve rolled his eyes and made his way up to where he knew Max must’ve found his bedroom. Standing in the doorway he saw Max standing in the middle of the room, looking around at everything from the posters on the wall to the trophies on the bookcase. She noticed Steve standing in the doorway and gave him amused look of disbelief.

“Your room looks like it was decorated by a perverted jocky,” she said with another laugh.

Steve rolled his eyes again and gave her a small smile, “Thanks; it took a lot of time to get it to look like this. I had to consult, like, three different weird-ass jockeys.”

Max smirked. She always found something to make fun of her new-found brother for, and he always tolerated it – sometimes even playing along when he knew she was having a particularly rough day.

________________________________________

Prompt: “I’m DYING.” Dustin x Steve! :)

“I’m dying,” Steve groaned from where he was lying on the sofa in his living room. He’d called Dustin that morning to tell him that he wouldn’t be able to pick him up from school like he normally did on Wednesdays and despite the older teen’s protests, Dustin insisted on coming over after school to check up on Steve.

“I don’t think you’re dying,” the boy said as he observed his admittedly miserable looking friend, “–You do look like crap, though.”

“No, I think I’m really dying this time,” Steve said and Dustin smirked. The younger boy couldn’t help but appreciate the irony of Steve being such a baby when he had the flu considering that this was the same guy who lead the party through the tunnels of the upside down immediately after having the shit beat out of him.

“Okay, fine,” Dustin said with amusement, “you’re dying. Can I have the bat when you die?”

“No, Max gets the bat.”

“What!? Why!?”

“Because she actually knows how to use it.” Steve gave the kid a pointed look and Dustin rolled his eyes.

“Fine. What about the car?” “No way! –You can have my collection of hairspray.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’re the only one I know who’ll use it right.”

This earned a smile from the younger boy, “Thanks, Steve.”

“You’re welcome, shithead,” Steve said, returning the smile and then coughing into the tissue he had crumpled in his hand.

________________________________________

Prompt: Could I suggest “ Do you realize how crazy that was? You could’ve get yourself hurt! “ for Steve and the party/any party member please?

They were back in Steve’s car, Dustin sitting in the passenger seat and Mike, Lucas, Max, Will, and El squeezed together in the back.

No one said a word as Steve drove away from the abandoned building and got onto the main road. They stayed this way for a good ten minutes before Dustin looked next to him where Steve was sitting and spoke hesitantly, “Steve…”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Steve said, not taking his eyes off of the road.

“But Steve,” Max started, but was quickly cut off by the older teen.

“What did I just say?”

“…Sorry,” Will said quietly, “We shouldn’t’ve called you…”

“…You think I’m mad ‘cause you asked for my help?”

“Well yeah,” said Mike, “Why else?”

“‘Why else’?” Steve asked, “Because you should’ve called me before you put yourselves in the middle of that shit!”

“We thought we could handle it,” Lucas said.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Steve, “You should’ve called me first. Do you shitheads realize how crazy that was? You could’ve gotten yourselves really hurt! Or…” he trailed off, voice breaking slightly. He didn’t want to think about what could’ve happened to the kids if he hadn’t been there.

The kids all looked down when they heard that; they hadn’t realized just how much their designated babysitter cared for them, and they suddenly understood exactly how they must’ve made him feel.

“…Sorry, Steve,” Dustin said quietly, putting a hand on the older teen’s shoulder.

Steve smiled slightly, still clearly upset, but relived, too. “Just don’t do that shit to me again. If you’re gonna get yourselves in trouble, at least call me first. Got it, dipshits?”

________________________________________

Prompt: “I’d die for you.” Steve & the kids

The kids were gathered around him as he slowly woke up, realizing he was in a bed instead of the Byers’ couch. He was confused for a moment, then vaguely remembered Mrs. Byers insisting he rest in her bed for the night. And after Billy and the tunnels, it was a welcome comfort.

“Guys, he’s waking up,” Steve heard someone whisper – he was pretty sure it was Mike.

“Steve?” Dustin said, hovering over the older teenager with worry, “How’re you feeling?”

Steve opened his eyes slowly to reveal four faces peering down at him; the four kids he’d protected last night. “Hmm…” he groaned quietly and he carefully pushed himself up against the headboard.

“How do you feel?” Dustin asked again, more worry in his voice now that Steve hadn’t responded to the question the first time.

“…Been better…” the teen mumbled, ruffling the younger boy’s curly hair.

“Sorry, man…” Lucas said, looking down and not making eye contact with the older boy, “If I–”

“–Don’t you dare,” Steve said, sounding more coherent than before, “It wasn’t your fault. –Or yours,” he added, looking at Max.

“We put you in the middle of everything, though,” Max said, “We put you in a bad place, and we–”

“–I chose to take care of you. You didn’t make me do anything.” Well… that wasn’t entirely true, they did force him to go with them to the tunnels even though he’d told them no. But at this point that was neither here nor there.

“…Thanks, Steve,” Mike said suddenly, “…For everything.”

This genuinely surprised the babysitter, having thought that Mike hated him, and he smiled at the boy. “I’d do anything for you dipshits, you know that. …I’d die for you guys.”

This earned small, if concerned, smiles from the kids. They did know that Steve would die to protect them, and that was what they were afraid of.

________________________________________

Prompt: “HELP! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!” Steve x anyone of your choice (I loveee steve whump. hehehehehe. )

He’d fallen asleep in the couch while the boys were still watching a movie.

He’d picked up Dustin from school, like he always did on Wednesdays, and ended up picking up Will, Lucas and Mike as well – Lucas and Mike complaining that El and Max wanted “girl time”. Mike and Max still weren’t very close, but El had quickly come to like having another girl in the party, and if she was completely honest, Max liked it too.

It was Will who suggested they sleep over at Steve’s place, and the oldest teen agreed.

“Sure, why not. Just call your parents first; the last thing I need is a bunch of angry moms at my door – especially yours,” he added, looking at Will, who smiled.

“Okay, Steve.”

It was around one in the morning and the kids were on their third movie with no sign of getting tired, but Steve was exhausted, and though he tried to stay awake, he quickly lost the fight against his dropping eyelids and was sprawled out on the sofa.

He slept soundly for what was probably an hour before the nightmares started. At first he just whimpered a little, but it quickly escalated to yelling.

“No… No… Please…! Help…! Somebody help me! Please! Help me!”

This outburst frightened the boys out of their dozing state and they were at the teenager’s side in a second.

“Shit!” Mike said, “Steve, what’s wrong?!”

“It’s a nightmare,” Will said while Dustin and Lucas tried to shake Steve awake.

“Steve! You gotta wake up!” Lucas shouted, and to all four kids’ relief, Steve jolted awake, sitting up and breathing hard.

“It’s okay,” Dustin said gently, trying to hide the fact that he was scared, “It was just a nightmare. You’re okay.”

Steve roughy wiped the tears – when had he started crying? – from his cheeks and looked at the boys.

“Are you okay?” Mike asked and Steve nodded slowly.

“…Y–yeah… fine,” the older boy said, trying to hide the fact that he was shaking a little, “…Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Will with a small, reassuring smile, “I get them, too.”

“Jesus,” Steve said, looking at Will, “I’m sorry, kid.”

Will just smiled a little wider and hugged the older teenager, the other three boys quickly following suit; and Steve suddenly understood why the kids were so resistant to sleep, because they understood what he was feeling all too well – and if Mike wasn’t making fun of him or making any snide comments, that definitely meant he knew what Steve was feeling. It made Steve angry to think that these innocent kids had the same problem, and he wished he could have all their nightmares for them.