#spooks or spies

[wingedblooms]

Slowly, like lovely wraiths from a hell-realm, the witches appeared. (qos)

I haven’t been able to shake this quote since the witch series. How amazing would it be if we see Elain, a powerful seer and witch, peer into and/or travel to Hel like a wraith with her friends Nuala and Cerridwen? I’m so ready for all of their spooky adventures and missions together.

[icecreamkink]

ryan shane + crew leaving buzzfeed and deciding to stop focusing on gorey violent crimes to focus on ghosts and unexplained phenomena and mysteries and drunk spooky shit. how does it feel to make content for me, specifically

[matthew-macfadyen-gifs]

Spooks (MI-5)

"You don't agree?"

[international-writing]

Hi sorry if this is a bother but i really loved (and needed) that most about MI6, do you think you can make one about MI5 too? I've been trying to find stuff about it but can't find any information as in depth as your post :)

I’m really glad the MI6 post was helpful! And it's no bother! I'll do it gladly!

Ready to jump back into the murky world of intelligence?

Alright, so we've talked about MI6 and how it gathers intelligence to aid the UK in its decision-making, but what about MI5?

Let's start with the basics.

Intelligence agencies 101: MI5

1.- What even?

Whereas MI6 is in charge of gathering intelligence overseas in order to support the government's security, defense, foreign and economic policies, according to the 1989 Security Service Act, MI5 is tasked with "the protection of national security and in particular its protection against threats such as terrorism, espionage and sabotage, the activities of agents of foreign powers, and from actions intended to overthrow or undermine parliamentary democracy by political, industrial or violent means". Such threats may come from abroad or from within.

MI5’s headquarters are found at Thames House, a Grade II (of special interest, warranting every effort to preserve it) building close to the Houses of Parliament in London. In addition to this, there are 8 regional offices in Luton, Wales, Bristol, Glasgow, Manchester, Liverpool, Leeds and Birmingham, as well as another headquarters in Northern Ireland.

2.- Who is who?

I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but there is no M or C here.

The agency is under the authority of the Home Secretary, even though it does not form part of the Home Office.

The Director General (or DG) is the head of MI5, and is responsible for overseeing its operations and efficiency, reporting back to the Home Secretary and the Prime Minister, as well as ensuring the agency remains politically impartial.

There are 10 branches in MI5, and several entities that support its work, like the National Protective Security Authority (NPSA: providing organizations with security advice) and the Joint Terrorism Analysis Centre (JTAC: handles intelligence relating to international terrorism).

It is worth mentioning that in 2011, His Majesty, King Charles III became the Royal Patron of the Intelligence Services (including MI5, SIS and GCHQ). This means that he receives regular security briefings, as well as a daily ‘red box’ which includes intelligence reports, Cabinet papers, and confidential reports from Commonwealth countries.

There are over 5,000 employees in the organization and their roles include, investigations, technology, languages, surveillance, communications, information, protective security, administrations, building services and catering. As in MI6, all employees must be British, over the age of 18, and UK residents. They aren't allowed to discuss their application or job either.

3.- Operational Areas

MI5 mainly focuses on 4 areas: Terrorism, Espionage, Cyber Threats and the Proliferation of Weapons of Mass Destruction.

Counter-Terrorism

The agency focuses on different types of terrorism:

International terrorism: Groups such as ISIL and Al Qaeda.

Northern Ireland related: Dissident republican groups.

Right Wing Terrorism (RWT)/ Left, Anarchist and Single-Issue Terrorism (LASIT): This issue took primacy in 2020 and are handled just like international terrorism.

Counter-Espionage

Seeks to stop foreign intelligence agents from obtaining information and provides security advice to companies and organizations while working closely with MI6, GCHQ, Scotland Yard, as well as security and intelligence organizations abroad.

Cyber

Focuses on hostile actors, such as criminals, "hacktivist" groups, terrorists and foreign states, which are generally well equipped for cyber espionage and computer network attacks. These actors can target the government, the military, businesses, individuals and large volumes of sensitive data.

Cyber Espionage is called Computer Network Exploitation (CNS), while the use of malicious software against cyber infrastructure is denominated Computer Network Attack (CNA).

Counter-Proliferation

The UK is obliged by several international treaties and conventions to work against the threat that weapons of mass destruction pose. MI5 focuses on regimes and states that pursue clandestine weaponization programmes. To do this, the agency works with both private institutions and government agencies such as: The Department for Business, the Innovation and Skills (BIS), the Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO), the Ministry of Defence (MOD), His Majesty's Revenue and Customs (HMRC), the Home Office and the National Crime Agency (NCA).

4.- Tale as old as time...

We have talked about the “armed peace” period and how crazy the world was getting back in 1909, basically racing towards THE war everyone thought would put an end to all wars. It was back then that, fearing the German imperialistic ambitions, Great Britain established the Secret Service Bureau through Prime Minister Asquith’s Committee of Imperial Defence. 

Initially, this agency handled both national and foreign affairs, under the leadership of 50 year-old Royal Navy Commander Mansfield Cumming and 36 year-old Army captain Vernon Kell.

However, down the road, our dear Commander Cumming advocated for the splitting of these branches and thus, the Secret Intelligence Service (MI6) and the Security Service (MI5) were born. 

Right off the bat MI5 was tasked with dealing with a massive German espionage network that, according to “official” reports, had infiltrated Britain, causing widespread paranoia. The agency barely had 16 employees back then, but that, along with Churchill’s support (Home Secretary back then) was enough to find out about the existence of a German Naval Intelligence spy network. By the end of WWI, more than half the spies sent to Britain were caught by MI5.

However, the agency barely made it through the post-war cuts, not to mention its rivalry with Scotland Yard’s Special Branch and MI6 (the line between espionage and counter-espionage was REEEEEEAAAALLY thin and they were stepping on each other's toes).

Thankfully, the Soviet Union came to save the day when one of MI5’s surveillance operations revealed that Scotland Yard had been infiltrated by Soviet intelligence. By 1931, MI5 was completely in charge of counter-subversion operations, a responsibility that the agency would continue to hold until 1991.

In the 1970s, terrorism became a priority for MI5, especially those threats coming from Northern Ireland and Qadhafi's Libya, and after the 9/11 attacks, the agency changed its modus operandi entirely.

As you can see, the agency has had a very long history, however, its existence was only officially acknowledged in 1992.

5-. A rose by any other name...

The agency, just like MI6, has taken on many names throughout the years, starting with the Home Section of the Secret Service Bureau in 1909, the Directorate of Military Operations section 5 “MO5(g)” in 1914, Military Intelligence section 5 (MI5) in 1916, the Defence Security Service in 1929, and finally, the Security Service in 1931. And although the latter has remained its official name, the agency is most commonly referred to as MI5, even by those in it.

6.- Technicalities

As it turns out, MI5 shares its funding with MI6 and the GCHQ (no wonder they’re rivals...). According to a report from the 2018/19 period, MI5 used 67% of its budget for international counter-terrorism, 20% for Northern Ireland-related terrorism, and 13% for counter-espionage, counter-proliferation and protective security. 

Also worth mentioning, while MI5 agents have plenty of powers, they are not authorized to make arrests, and that is why they work with the Metropolitan Police AKA Scotland Yard, providing them with the necessary intelligence.

Recently, reforms have been made within the agency, and people now have the right to find out the kind of information that MI5 has on them, as well as ask if a deceased relative used to work for the agency. If the relative is still alive, however, MI5 definitely won’t spill the beans. So uhm... you might want to wait a little before trying to find out what that weird uncle does.

7.- Intelligence

MI5 makes use of several techniques to gather intelligence, such as:

Covert Human Intelligence Sources: Also known as “agents”, these people provide secret information during investigations and are NOT MI5 employees.

Directed surveillance: Following and/or observing targets.

Interception of communications: Monitoring emails or phone calls.

Bulk personal data: information about a large number of people used to identify a subject of interest.

Intrusive surveillance: Eavesdropping devices in homes or cars.

Equipment interference: Covertly accessing computers or other devices.

And in case you were wondering, yep, these are all legal because guess what? Individual rights can often be voided when it comes to national security.

Well...

That was all on my behalf. I hope this turned out to be useful for you, and if you happen to have any more doubts on this or any other related topic, my ask is always open!

Yours truly,

-The Internationalist

[thisbluespirit]

For @pers-books for the fanfic kiss meme, for Harry/Ruth + #8 in secrecy.

***

Their kisses are secret, like everything else.  (We’re made of secrets, you and I.)

“Harry,” she says, before she leaves his office.  They’re standing together at the door. She lays a hand on his arm, and his head lifts; she sees the query in his eyes.   (Is it an emergency, a traitor in their midst, or is it this thing between them?)

Ruth shivers, dares to lean across, to kiss him, behind the door, in the blind spot where no one can see – maybe, if they’re quick enough – and pulls away before she departs, clutching files to her chest.  Her lips curve into an equally secret smile.

They meet on benches; they talk shop and pretend they're a couple.  He kisses her right out in the open, a lie and a truth entwined together; kisses her so hard Ruth can barely breathe.

They like it like this.  Too much.  It can’t end well. 

They’re casual acquaintances, running into each other on the street.  The grid is compromised.  What else can they do?

She gives him a memory stick by sleight of hand while they exchange quick, public how-are-yous, and then, when he starts to move on, she grasps his coat. She shoots him a wicked look, and leans in to kiss his cheek in farewell.  They brush against each other more they should as they pass on; she this way, he that.

It’s not normal.  It’s not safe.  Neither of them could do it any other way if you paid them.  Her heart dances.  Next time, it says.  Next time.

(We’re made of secrets, you and I.)

Send me a ship + kiss here!

[banemmanan]

Rating each disguise donned by April & Mark in GFU

Part 6/6: Eps. 25 - 29

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

Ep.25

Desert Temptress. I can't honestly say that I fully understand the thoughts behind this one, but it basically worked? I think?

6/10

Ep.26

THRUSH goon #3. I just think that the fact that he had his full name on his briefcase the entire time should have been more detrimental to his effectiveness. Sure, he was found out eventually. But not because he had his full name on his briefcase and you've just got to wonder: how. Did THRUSH just assume that nobody would be that stupid? Either way he got what was coming to him. Let that be a lesson.

5/10

Office employee. Did no paperwork, never answered the phone once. Tbf we only saw her on lunchbreak but I currently have a job in admin and I'm bitter and tired.

2/10

Karl Prost, THRUSH inspector. Credit where credit is due, if you do anything with enough confidence then people will just go along with it.

7/10

Ep.27

No disguises in this episode, but I think that the unfortunate yellowface (not pictured) was enough for all of us...

Ep.28

Miss Bronson, air hostess. All the points are given because she had to put up with that bratty kid the whole flight. Also I think she kept her cover right up until there wasn't any point anymore.

7/10

Sir Bradley Keyes, big game hunter. Him annoying the rude businessman was worth it. And again I think he only blew his cover on his own terms, if he even ever did, they might just of thought he was a nosey hunting man the entire time...

7/10

Ep.29

Doorman. Yep, he sat by a door. Then he opened a door. I dunno what doormen do exactly, but that all seemed legit. Idk man, we saw him for like 10 seconds.

6/10

Cleaner. Clearly it was an incredible disguise because she collected all the evidence needed to convict their target. Then she pulled the disguise off right in front of him saying, "I'll see you in court." And he goes, "not if I send an assassin after you first!" Like, good job, but maybe wait until he's behind bars for the big reveal? I guess she had no choice since it was only 5mins into the episode...

7/10

[previous]

[Hats]

[Ties]

[qsmprambling]

"Wait wait, how is that ice still there?"

-Dorime intensifies-

[allstxriesintheend-archive2024]

Helen Cutter is the only failed mission for the ARC, MI5 & the SIS (MI6). Upon her return to the present (2010/11) - James Lester, Harry Pierce and Olivia Mansfield put plans in place within their agencies to enable a (covert) joint operation to capture Helen.

Years later, members of each section (dept) - including Wes Carter, Kaley Bond, Hunter Niall (001), Alec Travelyan (006) and James Bond (007) - are enlisted into the joint operation when the ARC learns Helen Cutter is still alive despite testimonials to her death.

( aka. Helen cheats death again & becomes public enemy number one… again )

[jingszo]

How Covert Agents Infiltrate the Internet to Manipulate, Deceive, and Destroy Reputations

But these GCHQ documents are the first to prove that a major western government is using some of the most controversial techniques to disseminate deception online and harm the reputations of targets. Under the tactics they use, the state is deliberately spreading lies on the internet about whichever individuals it targets, including the use of what GCHQ itself calls “false flag operations” 

Then there is the use of psychology and other social sciences to not only understand, but shape and control, how online activism and discourse unfolds. Today’s newly published document touts the work of GCHQ’s “Human Science Operations Cell,” devoted to “online human intelligence” and “strategic influence and disruption”:

[nataliasquote]

Tattoos for troubled minds | n romanoff

Summary: Natasha struggles to trust anyone when it comes to touching her body. But that becomes rather difficult when a tattoo idea comes into her mind that she just can’t shake

Warnings: mentions of scars, tattoo needles, slight internalised homophobia

wc: 3.6k

note: I don’t actually have tattoos (despite wanting one so badly) so this is probably really inaccurate. I do apologise if this doesn’t make sense. also, I hate this so much but the guilt of not posting is eating me alive so I’m sorry

-⧗-

Natasha was a quiet soul. She kept to herself, usually sitting at her own table in the Shield cafeteria, eyes focused on her plate of food as she ate quickly, just wanting to get out of there. None of the other agents dared make conversation with her, too spooked by her fighting skills to approach. But that didn’t bother her. Her hyper independence made her hesitant to trust people.

Clint was the only one she spoke to outside of working hours. They weren’t exactly friends, but she tolerated him enough to flash a small smile if she saw him in the hallways or feel slightly relaxed if they were paired for missions together.

And he liked her too, especially since her first words had been a jab at his choice of weapon.

“Bow and arrow? What did you do, get your training in a forest?”

But he didn’t take offense to it. After all, he’d made the call to save her and she owed him her life. Which is how, two years later, she was sprawled on his couch, chewing on take out pizza for the second time that week with a scowl.

“I think I want a tattoo.”

Clint frowned at her, wondering where her brain cells had disappeared to. “What?”

“You know, the permanent drawing-“

“Yes I know what a tattoo is Tasha,” he rolled his eyes at her teasing smirk, already over her sarcasm. “But you know it’s a bad idea for spies to have unique markings like that.”

Natasha shrugged, tugging up her sleeve to reveal a strange shaped scar across her bicep. “I’d say I’ve got enough of those naturally. And it would be hidden on my ribs or something.”

Clint just shook his head and turned back to his food. He was used to Natasha’s odd comments and her tattoo phase probably wouldn’t last in his eyes. Just like her ‘wanting to be blonde’ phase didn’t.

But it didn’t end. A month later and Natasha had fallen down the rabbit hole that was tattoo designs on pinterest, courtesy of a fellow agent who introduced her to the app. She didn’t understand it at first, but now it was 3am and her tablet screen was still glaring bright in her face, a plethora of images scattered across her screen.

She saved a couple to a board, now set on design and placement, before placing it to one side with a grin on her face. Natasha climbed out of bed and padded over to her mirror, pulling up her shirt and smiling softly to herself. But the dim lamplight made her scars glisten and she caught herself, a sudden feeling of repulsion shuddering through her body. She looked like a freak and no tattoo artist would want to go near that. Her scars weren’t normal and she wasn’t ready for the questions yet.

Tears glazed her eyes over and her arms snaked across her stomach, her reflection in the mirror now blurry. Even as the salty tears dripped down her cheeks and soaked the collar of her shirt, she didn’t step away, too engrossed with how disgusting she felt in her body.

That stubborn hope that the redroom failed to squash out had ignited inside her once more, except this time she just wanted to laugh at it. Natasha would never be normal. She was what they’d made her into, and a tattoo was never going to change that.

Clint noticed the change in her demeanor when she sat down at breakfast. Natasha barely engaged in her usual small talk, more focused on her food in front of her.

“Did you do anymore tattoo research yesterday?” He asked, knowing that would catch her attention. But instead of the usual spark, she remained dejected, stirring her yogurt half heartedly.

“Yeah,” came her response, albeit rather forced.

“There’s probably a lot of places in DC that would kill to tattoo a shield agent.” Nat shot him a look. “Just saying!”

“Sure. But I don’t think I can anymore.”

Clint looked at her with a frown. “Why not?”

Natasha just looked down and tugged at her sleeve, suddenly feeling exposed in her tight fitting suit. The image in the mirror from last night came into her mind and she pushed her food away, no longer hoodie. And beside that, she didn’t trust people she worked with, so how would she trust a complete stranger to add something permanent on her body? Getting a tattoo would be nothing but a dream for her, she knew that, but it still crushed her.

Clint studied his best friend for a moment in thought, before he placed his hand gently on her arm. “I might know someone who can help.” Natasha looked up, now interested. Her face was still stony but Clint knew she was excited. “A friend of Laura’s, we helped her out even before you came here.”

“An agent?” Clint hadn’t mentioned anyone like that before and it confused Natasha.

But Clint shook his head. “No, nothing like that. She came to Laura and I when she was a teenager and had nowhere else to go. And you know my wife-“

“Can’t let anyone suffer,” Natasha finished for him, warmth spreading in her stomach at the thought of the soft woman she’d grown to adore. Laura really did have the biggest heart out of everyone.

“Exactly that. Y/n was fourteen, I think, parents kicked her out of the house. How she got to ours, I’ll never know, but she just appeared on the doorstep one night and Laura melted at the sight of her.” Clint’s expression softened at the memory. “But anyway, what I’m saying is that she’s a tattoo artist. She’s got trust issues just like you and I think she’ll help.”

Natasha scowled at the last part, wanting to protest his comment. But she knew he was right; her trust issues were what got her into this mess in the first place.

“But she’s a kid?”

“No, almost the same age as you,” Clint said with a laugh. “You’ll like her, but she can be a little scary.”

“Scarier than me?”

Clint smirked. “Oh, you’d be surprised. That glare of hers rivals yours.” This vague description intrigued Natasha and Clint could see the cogs turning in her mind. “She knows what we do and she’s seen my scars. Trust me, they won’t put her off.”

Natasha’s head shot up, staring at her best friend with confusion. Was she that easy to read? Or did he just know her too well?

~~~

With the news of her favourite girls coming back home, Laura had been in a frenzy of cleaning and preparing. Clint had texted to say he was only minutes away so she left the dishes to soak and headed to the porch, anxiously staring at the track beside their house as she waited.

Anyone would have thought she was married to Natasha over Clint by the difference in reactions she gave them. Sure, Clint got a kiss and a hug, but Natasha truly got the special treatment, with Laura scanning her to make sure she wasn’t injured and quizzing her about how she was. Poor Clint was left to grab their bags as the women disappeared into the farmhouse.

Tea was poured and snacks were eaten in the cosy kitchen before the doorbell rang and Laura excused herself, leaving an anxious Natasha on her own for a moment. Muffled voices could be heard but she tried to go against her instincts of listening in and instead busied herself with a loose thread on the tablecloth. She heard footsteps approaching and turned in her chair, ignoring the way her heart thumped loudly in her chest.

The woman who walked in the kitchen doorway was stunning, Natasha couldn’t deny it, and her eyes darted to the patchwork of tattoos that littered her exposed arms. Their eyes met, and Natasha swore she could see the walls up in the other woman’s mind. But it didn’t scare her off. No. It brought her a weird sense of comfort and her body started to relax.

Clad in a black cropped tank and black cargo pants, Y/n hesitated in the doorway, duffle bag slung over her shoulder hitting the wall gently. Laura appeared behind her, gentle hands falling to her shoulders.

“Y/n, this is Natasha, the one I told you about.” The y/h/c girl made no effort to move. “She’s Clint’s partner.” Clearly not much of a talker, Y/n just nodded, not hiding the fact she was scanning Natasha from head to toe. She didn’t trust strangers, but she trusted Laura and Clint who seemed to love Natasha. So maybe she wasn’t a threat.

“Hi, you can call me Nat if you want.” No one called her Nat except Laura, but it was a feeble attempt to make the atmosphere more comfortable. Another nod came but Laura smiled.

“Do you want to go set up? All of your stuff is still exactly where you left it,” Laura addressed Y/n who adjusted the grip on her bag and disappeared down the hall without a word. Natasha’s eyebrows raised at Laura who watched her go, a fond look in her eyes. “She does speak, I promise.”

Natasha shook her head, brushing her off. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I can tell you care about her a lot.”

“She’s like a daughter to me, kind of like you are.” Natasha’s cheeks flushed at that. “She doesn’t have anyone except us, so I worry. She’s a real sweetheart though, she’s just been through a lot. Kind of like someone else I know.”

“I’ll be kind, don’t worry.”

Laura couldn’t help but smile as she stirred her tea. “Oh I know. She already likes you, you don’t need to worry about that.”

Natasha let out a sigh and started to play with the hem of her zip up jacket. It suddenly felt real, the whole tattoo thing. And whilst she weirdly trusted Y/n, it didn’t help ease her nerves any less.

The redhead sensed a new presence before she spotted her, standing in the doorway just like she was before.

“Ready when you are, Nat.” Her voice was slightly raspy from lack of use and she spoke quietly, almost as if she was scared she’d get into trouble. Natasha smiled softly at the sound of her nickname and squeezed Laura’s hand before she followed the y/h/c girl down the hallway of the house she considered her second home.

Clint’s office had been turned into a makeshift tattoo studio with all new equipment and furniture decorating the small space. The tattoo bed had a fresh paper layer on top and Y/n gestured for Natasha to take a seat.

“Ok, do you have an idea of what you want? And where?” Y/n sat down at a small table and picked up her pen before looking at Natasha expectantly.

“I’ve got a couple of reference pictures on my phone.” The small device was handed over and Y/n swiped between them, nodding in approval before setting it down. “The last one is just for placement ideas.”

“I’ll work up a sketch and you can tell me what needs changing.” Luckily Natasha’s design was incredibly simple and it didn’t take long for Y/n to hold up her page.

Natasha slid off the bed and slowly walked over, not wanting to startle the skittish girl. But Y/n just moved over, clearly welcoming the redhead into her space.

“I love that a lot,” Natasha praised, studying the simple lines. “But maybe it could be a bit smaller.”

“I can scale it down when I make the stencil, no problem. But is the design alright? Remember, it is permanent so I want you to be completely happy with it.”

Natasha studied it for a moment, a smile tugging at her lips as she imagined it on her body. Y/n had talent, anyone could see that even from such a simple drawing, and Natasha nodded before she slid the notebook back to her.

“I love it, I really do.”

Y/n nodded, grabbing her stencil paper from a drawer by her leg. She wordlessly began making the stencil and Natasha took this as her cue to return to her seat. She peered around the room, admiring a few pictures that were on the walls. Incredibly complicated tattoos which she guessed Y/n had done.

The young girl sketching away in the corner thoroughly interested her and something inside Natasha was drawn in. She wanted to get to know her because aside from the shy and hesitant exterior she was effortlessly cool and seemed sweet. Maybe Y/n could be the start of Natasha’s project to make friends.

“If you lie back on the seat and lift your shirt, we can make sure this is exactly how you want it before I start.”

Natasha took a deep breath and slowly lifted her shirt and lowered the waistband of her sweatpants so her hip bone was exposed. She shivered despite the room being warm, fully aware that her nastiest scar was on full display on her lower stomach.

But Y/n didn’t care. Or at least she didn’t make it obvious if it bothered her. “Is it ok if I touch your hip?” She asked, looking Natasha straight in the eyes. The redhead almost melted at her words, not used to ever being asked that question.

“Of course, do what you need.” Y/n’s fingers were soft and delicate as she placed the stencil on Natasha’s skin. She didn’t touch anywhere she didn’t need to and worked quickly, making sure it was fully stuck down before stepping back to allow Natasha to step over to the mirror.

Although it wasn’t permanent, Natasha’s heart was racing as she saw the way the black ink stood out against her pale skin. The symbol was small but perfect in her eyes, and she turned back to Y/n with a grin.

“It’s perfect!”

“Then I’ll get started.”

Due to the design being so small, it took no more than fifteen minutes for Y/n to complete. Her hand was incredibly steady and Natasha’s pain tolerance was so high she barely felt it. The room was silent aside from the faint buzzing, no conversation stemming from either woman. Questions spiralled around Natasha’s head but she knew this wasn’t the place to ask them.

Completely lost in her head, Natasha failed to notice the silence or the fact that her hip bone was no longer burning. Y/n kept working, wiping away the excess ink and making sure she hadn’t missed a spot. But it was perfect, as usual, and she gently tapped Nat on the thigh to snap her out of her head.

“You’re now free to look.”

Natasha grinned and hopped off the bed, holding up her shirt again as she looked in the mirror. Tears almost sprung to her eyes as she admired the finished product, and they probably would have tumbled down her cheeks if she had been alone.

A small spider sat on the front of her hip, legs slightly bent. It looked so delicate on her skin and for the first time in her entire life, Natasha actually liked looking at herself in the mirror.

“It’s so beautiful,” she began to ramble, unable to tear her eyes away. “You’ve got real talent Y/n, I can’t thank you enough. It’s so perfect.”

Y/n blushed and couldn’t stop the smile that graced her lips, catching Natasha’s eyes in the mirror and making the redhead freeze.

Her smile.

The young woman hadn’t smiled the entire time she’d arrived, but seeing her now was like a breath of fresh air. Smiling looked so good on her and Natash couldn’t get enough.

“If you want to show Laura, you can, but you’ll need to come back so I can wrap it safely.” Natasha glanced at her new addition and nodded, but hesitated once she was by the door.

“I think you should come too. The artist and her artwork.” Natasha spoke with a smirk and Y/n couldn’t ever imagine saying no to that woman. So she nodded again, her usual response, and meekly followed her back down the hall, pulling off her gloves as she walked.

Laura was already waiting for them in the kitchen and she placed her reading glasses in her hair to get a good look at Natasha who still hadn’t dropped her shirt down. She’d never seen the Russian with such a wide grin before, her usual collected expression completely out of the window.

“It looks beautiful, Nat, truly. You did such a good job Y/n.”

“You never told me how talented she is!” Natasha stepped to the side to allow Y/n to come forward, but the humble woman stayed where she was, already hating the attention. She didn’t see her art as talent, more like a form of escapism. But it made people happy and that was all she wanted.

“I wanted you to see for yourself,” Laura replied. “And besides, she never believes me when I tell her how good she is.”

“You’re really easy to tattoo. You don’t squirm or cry like other people do, so really I should be thanking you.” Laura was taken aback by Y/n’s comment, not used to more than three words coming out of the girl’s mouth. But the more she observed her, the more she saw her change. The darkness she’d noticed since Y/n was a teenager had lifted a little and she seemed a lot less guarded, looking over at Natasha with a soft expression.

And Natasha looked back at her just the same, purely in awe of how gentle she was. As Y/n gestured for them to return to the office and offered to hold Nat’s shirt, Laura felt like squealing like a child.

Two of her favourite people in the world had found each other and, despite both being so broken and fragile, fit together so perfectly it was like they were made for each other.

Natasha was strong enough and sure of herself enough for the both of them, and Y/n treated her with such delicacy and care that it slowly broke away Natasha’s trust issues and allowed her to open up. And Natasha’s protective nature came out around the other woman, wanting to keep her safe from the world.

With a quick word about going to show Clint, Natasha disappeared into the front yard with her newly wrapped hip, leaving Y/n to find Laura again. The older woman welcomed her with a hug and pulled a chair close to her own.

“You like her, don’t you?”

Y/n kept her gaze on the crossword Laura was doing, not wanting her eyes to give her away if she looked up. “She’s nice.”

“Hey,” Laura said softly, carefully taking Y/n’s hand in her own. She didn’t miss the way she flinched but unfortunately she was used to that by now. “You’re not back there. You’re allowed to like her if that’s what you want and feel. She’s a good person, but so are you, you don’t need to be scared.”

Y/n’s eyes followed where their hands were clasped up to Laura’s face, trying to find any hints that showed she was lying. But all that came back was the soft and caring face she’d grown to love, one that didn’t lie to her and didn’t hate her for who she was.

“I don’t like her like that.” Call her a hypocrite for lying, but Y/n had her reasons. Loving a woman was still unnatural in her eyes, despite her contrasting feelings that longed for it.

“Y/n…” Laura’s ‘mom’ tone was one she was used to and she knew she was caught out. “I’m not asking you to tell me now, but you deserve happiness, as does she. And I haven’t seen either of you that relaxed in a really long time. So please don’t push her away.”

Y/n didn’t know what to think. How could she? Her whole life had centred around hating who she was, so how could anyone ever like her like that? It messed with her head and Laura could see that.

But what was Natasha if not a life saver. She came strolling into the kitchen, her tshirt now tucked up into the band of her sports bra to allow her tattoo to be on full display. Y/n smiled slightly at the sight.

Sinking down into the chair beside her, Natasha noticed the clasped hands of the women and wondered what she’d interrupted. But that wasn’t her place to ask, so she turned to Y/n.

“How can I pay you? How much do you charge?”

Y/n shook her head frantically, pulling her hand away from Laura. “Nothing, honestly. You’re a friend, it’s no big deal.”

“Absolutely not. If you won’t take money, at least let me repay you another way.”

“Nat-“

“Dinner? How about you let me take you to dinner next week. You’re from the city, right?” Y/n nodded, her brows creasing. She turned to Laura for help but the older woman just smiled widely and nodded, giving her as much non verbal encouragement as she could. “Please, Y/n?”

She’d said yes before she could even process what was going on. After all, they were just friends going to dinner. People in the movies that she’d seen did it, so she could too.

What was so wrong with that?

[lunarxcity]

High Lords and High Jinks

- azriel x day court!reader

- synopsis: when rhys and helion try to set up their right hands and closest friends things don’t go according to plan…

—

I'm lost, correction I’m hopelessly lost. What kind of person even gets lost in a library? You see, I was tasked by my high lord and very ambitious boss Helion to find a book on firedrake lilies; they were native to the day court but suddenly went extinct about 1100 years ago, and they haven't been seen in Prythian since. Well, it seems to me that this book is even more elusive than the flower. Why does the high lord of night possess the only book in existence on this flower, only found in day might I add, and why does he keep it in his secret underground library, and why is this library an entire mountain? Helion couldn’t have sent someone else? A visit to the night court to grab a book is beneath my pay grade, but again these days I don't know what isn't.

I'm pretty sure I passed that shelf ages ago, I can’t even tell they all look the same. This library feels like a maze with books cascading down what seems to be a never-ending row of shelves that almost act like corridors, twisting and turning into a path that takes you deeper into the library, filled with even more towering shelves lined with more books. The very kind librarian sent me to the botany and herbal remedies section, but she failed to mention that the “section” is about half a floor. I have been looking for hours(I don’t even know how long it’s been since I’ve been trapped underground looking for this cauldron-dammed book all day).

Don’t get me wrong I love books, I spend half my time reading and the other half playing glorified babysitter to the most dramatic high lord that ever was and ever will be. The day court prides itself on our libraries. We have everything from books on the history of ancient creatures that once roamed this land, to banned cookbooks (they had to be permanently deshelved due to certain recipes that had a tendency to explode), and my personal favorite, the risqué romance novels, which are now found at every library in day due to the high lord and his royal aid having a penchant for the genre. Apparently the only book we don’t have is one on a day court flower of all things. Leave it up to Helion to send me to a whole other court with minimal directions and no explanation on why he needs this specific book. It feels like I have spent an eternity searching, I haven’t even found the right section on extinct plants, and I don't even know where I am anymore, mother save me-

My thoughts are cut off by a tug on my sleeve. I look up and see nothing. No one’s there. Interesting... I start to make my way down the shelves when I feel another tug. This one is much harder, I start falling forward and am immediately pulled backwards, which saves me from the fall. I try to find the culprit of this surprising attack, when I, again, feel a gentle tug at my sleeve. I look down and see this cloud of smoke? No, it’s not grey and opaque; it’s as black as ink and solid as if it is untouched by the light. It cuts through the air like a whip, fast and smooth.

I’ve read about these before, but shadows rarely tend to make themselves known. Rhysand’s spymaster is a shadowsinger is this one of his little spies? Are the shadows friendly? Are they sentient? The shadow stops its frantic swirling and looks at me; well, it feels like it’s looking at me as much as a shadow can. I reach out to touch it, and it darts away behind a shelf, seemingly spooked by my touch. A piece of shadow is still visible peaking out from behind the shelf, and I stand still looking at it. “Take as long as you need. Trust me, I will be here for a while.”

I continue searching the shelves, ignoring the shadow in an attempt to ease its skittishness. I look back to the shelf it was hiding behind and notice its absence. Without my knowledge, the shadow made its way back to me and has been circling my ankles. The whisp of shadow then starts swirling around me excitedly before making itself at home on my wrist.

Curious little thing it is, it’s almost like a pet. “Any reason you're pulling on my wrist, or are you just as dreadfully bored and hopeless as I am? I swear I should’ve made Helion get that book himself. He’s probably off partying with Rhys cauldron knows where.” The shadow responds by swirling around my wrist faster and begins to tug me forward. “Oh, so I'm just supposed to follow?” The shadow becomes almost alive at this commend and yanks me forward with a rough force. Tripping over my feet, I let the little shadow drag me through the identical-looking shelves. “Do you even know where you’re going? I’ve been here for hours and all I’ve managed to do is get lost and get manhandled by a shadow. I don't even know where you're taking me if or if you're supposed to be going around unsupervised, pulling strangers through the library. Oh my gods, I'm losing it. I'm talking to the shadow.” The shadow gives one harsh yank, and suddenly, everything goes black. The shadow threw me forward directly into a hard mass. “I find the shadows to be good company; they don’t have a penchant for annoyance, I can’t say the same for most people.”

The mass is talking? I step back and can now see that the mass is a person. Probably the most beautiful individual I have ever laid eyes upon. He has strong, dark features, the build of a warrior, and golden hazel eyes that feel as if they’re looking right through me. The cobalt siphons, the fighting leathers, and the wings tucked into his back tell me he must be an Illyrian. The shadows that seem to ooze from his very being tell me that he must be the one and only shadowsinger of the night court. He looks like night incarnate. His aura is dark, beautiful, and dangerous. I’m from the day court, I know how to appreciate the sun, but there’s something about him that has me reconsidering the allure of the moon.

I have only ever heard of him from Helion, the tales of Rhysand’s shadowsinger, the elusive spymaster that's one with the shadows and has repeatedly turned down Helion's offers to join him in his bed chambers. Helion will then sulk for the rest of the evening, leaving me to deal with cheering him up. I have never been so embarrassed or in awe. Have I been staring at him this whole time? I’m probably staring. Should I say something? I just caught sight of his wings; they span the entire width of the shelves. Oh, I'm most definitely staring.

“Pardon my frankness but what’s the spymaster of the night court doing in the botany section of the library? Don’t you have some super serious spy business to attend to?” He quirked his brow, seemingly amused by my question. “And what’s one of Helion's lackeys doing here looking for a book on firedrake lilies when they haven’t been seen on the coast of day in over a century?” I feel my face start to heat up. “I’m not Helion's lackey , and I will have you know I am much more than that you- wait… how did you know that they're found on the coast of day? You have my book!" Immediately correcting myself to match the levels of politeness and poise expected of a member of Helion's court, I respond in my politest tone, "May I please get it? My high lord is requesting it for research purposes” I swear if this shadowsinger does not give me this book I’ll-

“No can do. My high lord is also requesting this very book, and since this is his court, his request takes precedence.” He starts to smugly grin, that overgrown bat, I wish I could wipe that grin off his stupid, smug, handsome face, wait, no focus. “Well, I am an esteemed guest of this court, so out of pure courtesy, should I not receive this book? We can call it payment for your shadow almost tripping me on the way here.”

At this remark, his gaze shoots up to his shadows, his eyes narrow, and he scans the shadows until he finally finds on the culprit that dragged you here. He starts to squint at it menacingly, and it darts away from his orbit, right behind you, cowering from its master like a child that just received a scolding. “Me and my shadows will have a discussion about that later. They rarely leave my side. You must have coerced them with your day court charms.” He says offhandedly. “So you find me charming?” It slips from my tongue and I curse myself for spending most of my time with Helion. At this he goes silent. Blank stare. I have not met a courtier I couldn’t win over, but he is giving me nothing. He just meets my stare with his mildly annoyed gaze. A minute more of silence... I will not be ignored by this shadowsinger.

“I demand you hand me this book at once.” I stare him down. “There's that day court charm”, he sarcastically replied under his breath. This is a losing battle. I look back at the shadow, the shadow looks at me, and I whisper, “Can you get me the book, please? Your master appears to be in a brooding mood today and cannot extend his guest the courtesy of his cooperation.” The shadow gives a slight nod and darts out from behind you. “I can hear you, you know? The shadows won’t turn on me they are apart of my very being and follow my will.” He finally says. “Oh, you were meant to hear me, and who knows, maybe the shadows got tired of their master's lack of manners and chivalry.” The shadowsinger scowls and was about to reply when, to his complete and utter disbelief, the shadow comes back with the book in tow. I don’t even need the book anymore. The look on his face was enough satisfaction for me. The shadow, while helpful, is still mischievous, placing itself right in the middle of us.

“You’re not going to make this easy for me are you?” he asks looking down at me with competition burning in his eyes. “Not even for a second.” I grin up at him meeting his eyes with just as much intensity. He gives a half smile back, a second passes, and you both lunge for the book.

Somewhere above two high lords are clinking their glasses doubled over in laughter over their little scheme. “My money is on her. I tried to spar with her once, and I was on the floor in less than 30 seconds with no idea how I got there.” Helion says while filling his glass with more wine. “Well, mine is on Azriel. He has years of Illyrian training, and is the most competitive person I know, he won’t lose a wrestling match over a book. He’s my spymaster for a reason.” Rhysand jokes. “Well your spymaster is oblivious to what’s right in front of him. Do you want to make a wager? I wager that she gets the book one way or another. Are you a betting man Rhys?” Helion mischievously asks. “I have known Azriel for centuries and I can’t see him losing a measly fight over a book. You have yourself a deal. Winner gets to make the loser do anything they want within reason.” Helion grins and reaches his hand out, “Deal.”

What started out as an intense sparring session eventually turned into a glorified game of tug-o-war. After exhausting themselves with physical combat, they now both had both hands on the book trying to tug it out of the other's grasp. Azriel's gloves had ended up on the floor, along with a few stray books knocked from their shelves, and an innocent chair that was caught in the fire. She looked up at him, visibly exhausted and asked, “Are you ready to give up now?” He looked back, equally exhausted, and responded, “Never.” Her hand started slipping as he tugged, causing her to grasp at the top of the book, right where his hand was. The minute their hands touched, his eyes went wide. He just stared with a kind of stillness that one only acquired through years of spying. He was deathly still and almost seemed to blend into his shadows which were erratic swirling all around the both of us.

Something flickered through his eyes. Fear? Acceptance? What could he be thinking of to elicit such a reaction? I looked down at his hands and saw the burn marks that were etched into his skin. I immediately jumped back, scared I triggered something. He had the same idea it seems, and dropped the book the same time I did. “I’m sorry-“ we both said at the same time. After a few seconds of silence and him just looking at me and analysing me? He took the first step forward and picked up the book. I thought he was about to take off when he looked at me and walked over and put it in my hands, not sparing a second glance to the book. “But your high lord-“I started. It was like a flip was switched. The brooding, stoic, smug demenour of the shadowsinger suddenly melted away to reveal a soft-spoken, kind, and shy individual. I probably looked visibly confused because he started speaking. “You’re right. I haven’t been very cooperative or courteous. You’re a guest of Rhys, and as a member of his inner circle, I haven’t been very welcoming. So, let’s start again. My name is Azriel. Here is the book that you require for your research. If that's all you're here for, it would be my honor to give you a proper tour of Velaris and formally welcome you to the night court.” He drops to one knee and bows to me and I swear my heart stops. What just happened?

“RHYS DID THAT JUST HAPPEN?” Cassian, who started watching halfway through screams. “Yes, quiet down-" “OUR BROTHER HAS FINALLY FOUND HIS MATE. LET'S BRING BOTH OF THEM UP HERE. I'M ABOUT TO CRY. LOOK AT ME, RHYSIE. DO YOU SEE TEARS? I NEVER-” Rhys gives Cassian a look of annoyance and says, “Well maybe he could've if only he didn’t insult or fight her first. We made it so easy, we tried to set her them up but no- ” Rhysand mutters under his breath. Helion starts cackling, "He will surely have his work cut out for him after that first impression. Also, pay up Rhys, she got the book."

[matthew-macfadyen-gifs]

Spooks

Extras

[thisbluespirit]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Spooks | MI-5 Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ruth Evershed/Harry Pearce Characters: Ruth Evershed, Harry Pearce Additional Tags: Tumblr Prompt, Flash Fic, Ficlet, Spies & Secret Agents, Secret Relationship, Kissing, Vignette Summary:

Ruth/Harry, kiss in secrecy.

[isagrimorie]

I've been rewatching Lauren -- it might be because the scene is uncomfortable and I glide through it but:

I can't believe I missed this.

Ian Doyle flat-out said Emily has killed innocents before I knew she did shady stuff, 'cause she was undercover and worked as a spy -- Spies are inherently shady.

But to have it confirmed, canonically, that to keep her undercover -- to convince Ian Doyle that she's one of them, an arms dealer, a criminal she had to. Someone who is as morally flexible as he was.

It goes back to Retaliation:

"Explains his behavior, too. A good guy doing bad things."

And then we see a hint of how she operated as Lauren Reynolds--

Doyle: What are you thinking?

Liam: Woman first, then the goateed fella. And then Fahey if he has a shot. If not, he'll shut up.

This was the moment Emily Prentiss made the cold calculation to sacrifice Fahey just to keep her team safe.

Judging from Doyle's reaction...

This is what Emily Prentiss, terrorist profiler, and Spook as 'Lauren Reynolds' is great at -- cold calculation and pragmatism.

This is why Prentiss wanted, desperately to be part of the BAU because their goals are clear.

[pupsmailbox]

SCENE︰EMO ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　acid. adder. adrian. aisling. alex. alice. alix. amethyst. annabelle. aqua. ash. ashlee. ashley. aspen. astley. avril. awe. axe. ayesha. bates. bell. bella. belladonna. bellatrix. billy. blade. blair. blitz. bloodie. bloodscene. blythe. bow. bree. butterfly. callie. candi. candy. celeste. chase. checkerz. clarity. click. coraline. couture. crow. cyril. cyrus. dakota. demi. demonia. devin. dino. dizzy. doge. dom. dominic. ebony. electra. elliot. emery. emmett. emo. epic. erin. evan. flash. fred. galaxy. gavin. gerard. ghostie. gif. gloom. gray. grayson. grim. gutz. happy. havoc. hazel. heyley. hunter. hyde. indigo. ink. iris. ivory. ivy. jack. jade. jason. jasper. jax. jeff. jet. jett. julie. kai kandi. kandiz. kat. kayden. killer. kit. kitt. kobi. kyler. lady. lapis. lee. lexie. liam. luna. lurk. lynx. lyric. lyxzen. mace. maddox. madeline. mae. malice. marceline. marcie. mars. mavis. meow. mia. midnight. mika. mill. nana. neo. net. nick. nina. noah. noob. nora. nyan. nyx. obscene. octavia. olivia. onix. onyx. opal. orange. orchid. pearl. phantom. phoenix. pierce, pierce. pitch. pixie. pop. punk. pusheen. rain. rainbow. raine. rainer. rave. raven. raver. rawr. razorz. reaper. ripley. river. rogue. ronnie. rose. rouge. roux. rubi. ruby ruby. sable. salem. sally. sapphire. sash. sasha. scythe. silvi. silvia. smiley. smoke. smokey. snap. snow. sonya. soot. sparrow. spike. splatter. spook. stella. steve. stripe. sunny. suzi. suzie. suzy. taffi. taffy. tag. tech. tempest. travis. trend. tyler. vesper. vine. vista. vivi. waffle. wave. web. wentz. wesley. wild. willow. wound. xander. z!m. zach. zack. zade. zaire. zak. zander. zara. zero. ziggy. zim. zircon. zoe. zoom. zyair.

PRONOUNS ⌇　awesome/awesome. ay/aym. bark/bark. bi/bim. bite/bite. black/black. bling/blingee. blood/blood. bone/bone. bow/bow. brace/bracelet. bright/bright. bright/colour. byte/byte. cat/cat. cata/catatonic. ce/cer. check/checkered. chem/chem. cir/circut. color/color. computer/computer. cool/cool. cos/cos. creepy/pasta. cringe/cringe. cry/cry. cut/cut. dead/dead. death/death. die/die. dino/dino. emo/emo. emoticon/emoticon. epic/epic. ev/ev. exe/exe. ey/em. eye/strain. fang/fang. fringe/fringe. game/game. gamer/gamer. ghost/ghost. gir/gir. girr/girr. glit/glitter. glitter/glitter. gloom/gloom. glow/glow. glow/stick. gore/gore. grr/grr. gun/gun. gut/gut. hor/horror. hx/hxm. hyper/hyper. hyperpop/hyperpop. internet/internet. it/it. ix/ix. kan/kandi. kand/kandi. kandi/kandi. kill/kill. kit/kit. knife/knife. lix/lix. loud/loud. luv/luv. mask/mask. meme/meme. meow/meow. mew/mew. mlp/mlp. mon/monster. mspaint/mspaint. music/music. neo/neon. neon/neon. net/net. nostalgia/nostalgia. nya/nya. nya/nyan. nyan/cat. old/old. online/online. pika/pikachu. pix/pix. pixel/pixel. plur/plur. pony/pony. pop/pop. pop/tart. queen/queen. quiet/quiet. rain/rain. rainbow/rainbow. random/random. rave/rave. rawr/rawr. raz/razor. red/red. rei/reina. scene/scene. scene/scenester. scenecore/scenecore. scream/scream. shx/hxr. si/silent. silly/silly. skull/skull. slash/slash. slice/slice. sound/sound. spi/spider. spook/spook. stab/stab. stick/sticker. sticker/sticker. stud/stud. swag/swags/swagself. thxy/thxm. troll/troll. tutu/tutu. txt/txt. vamp/vamp. video/game. virtual/virtual. vocaloid/vocaloid. web/web. windows/window. x3/x3. x]/x]. xD/xD. xe/xem. xey/xem. xP/xP. xy/xyr. youtube/youtube. ze/zem. ze/zer. ze/zero. zi/zim. zim/zim. zom/zombie. zomb/zomb.

[katyawriteswhump]

(You’re just) too good to be true 

For @astrangersummer week 3 prompts, flowers and/or hugs. Thanks to bananas and yesdanger on discord for the extra prompts to get me going. I have tried to get as many in as possible. 

Summary: Steve wakes up in hospital after everything is over and can’t quite believe how well everything has turned out…

Rating: T. WC: 1460   CW: None. Other tags: Steddie, platonic stobin, angst, sickfic, hurt/comfort, temporary amnesia, fix-it fic, everybody lives.

…

Steve flutters his eyes open and spies Robin sitting by his bed. Mascara streams down her face, and her hair’s a literal disaster zone.

“Steve! You’re awake!” She grabs his hand. “You’re gonna be okay. The doctor should be here any minute.”

Doctor!?! Where the heck am I?

His throat proves too dry for words. Robin garbles way too fast for him to understand and she’s wringing his fingers ever tighter.

If she’s touching me, I guess it can't be rabies.

His memory triggered, the shitshow slams back. First, the bats, the bites. Then everything that happened after, until they journeyed again into the Upside Down to try to kill Vecna.

Oh hold on, scratch that. 

To fail to kill Vecna.

Staring blankly through Robin, he fixates on the terrible parts. Eddie lying bloodied and dead in Dustin’s arms. Dustin sobbing his eyes out. Max was pretty much lost too, and Vecna was alive, gone to ground, and…

What happened next? Why am I in a hospital bed? Jesus, I was fine! 

There’s one of those IV thingies in his arm. He shivers though can’t tell if he’s cold or hot. The doctor arrives, jostles him, talks at him, shines lights in his eyes. He’s not in pain, but his brain is all woolly, and he’s confused and weak and lost.

He needs a hug more than ever in his life. Robin peeps at him over the doctor’s shoulder, bouncing like a spooked bunny-rabbit, then she’s gone.

It’s all too much.

He quits, sinking back into the darkness.

…

When Steve next pries an eyelid open, he spies Eddie breezing into the hospital room. Eddie joins Robin, who has moved to the window to pick at her nail polish.

Eddie is gone, which means… Oh, no, no, no, no, no! I’m dead too? Or dreaming?

His throat is achy and tight. He closes his eyes again, hot tears welling. More memories trickle back.

“Make him pay,” Eddie had said.

He recalls that last, lingering look between them. The one that slammed him like a freight train, because... Wtf? For some strange reason, that moment doesn’t feel like the end of a story anymore.

It feels like a beginning. Which is just dumb. 

Eddie is no more.

He peeps again, watching a dude who is very definitely Eddie pouring bottled water into a vase of flowers on the windowsill. Robin seizes the bottle from him: “What are you doing, shit-bird? Those are silk—his mom brought them. They don’t need water.”

“Riiiight.” Eddie pulls a silly face, which Steve finds freakish levels of adorable. Suddenly, he wants to crush Eddie to him, tell him that he’s insanely happy he’s here, even if this is some crazy dreamworld, and…

… he wants to shove his tongue into Eddie’s mouth and kiss him stupid.

Huh?

Steve licks dry lips. Most bewildering of all, he somehow knows how awesome kissing Eddie is. As if they’ve done it before.

More than once.

Eddie sneezes dramatically. “If those flowers are fake, I’m allergic to WASP chintz. Which checks out, I guess.”

Robin laughs, though it’s sad and nervy. He catches a glimpse of Eddie’s bambi eyes, and they’re anxious, haunted, too. Then Lucas and Max walk in.

MAX? She’s in a coma!

Steve’s head throbs miserably from trying to make sense of this mad place. 

He quits and drifts back to the darkness.

…

When he next peeps, Robin and Eleven are sitting by his bed, sharing a packet of cool ranch doritos. 

Which makes less sense than ANY OF IT.

Robin’s gotten real picky lately about sharing food. At least, with anybody but him. He’s vaguely pissed, because these two hardly know each other. The way they’re huddled on the same chair, like close buddies, suggests otherwise.

Yeah, he’s vaguely pissed. And kinda jealous. He sort of hates himself for being needy... but he really wants that hug. 

Then another memory flashes back. Some alien desert landscape, with Eleven blasting Vecna with everything she’s got. Eddie sprinting toward him—tailed by what looks like a medium-to-large demogorgon with at least a dozen extra flailing limbs—and Robin yelling, “Steve! El’s got this—help Eddie!”

He finally forces his eyes wide enough for them to see he’s watching. “R-Robin?” he croaks.

“Steve!” She leaps to her feet, nearly knocking El and the chair flying. “You’re really, actually awake this time? Please say yes.”

There’s noise and confusion. The doctor arrives again, checks Steve’s vitals, then bitches that there’s too many kids in the room: “It should be family only,” she says.

“We’re his family,” argues Robin. “His parents only come during official visiting hours.”

Robin is allowed to remain. She helps him sip water, and then he says, “Look, I think was dreaming earlier, or off my head on meds, because I saw you with Eddie, and I know that’s impossible, because…” He swallows hard, mumbles the hateful words: “He's gone, right?”

“Oh my God, you don’t remember?”

“Jesus, Robin! Remember what?”

“We won, Steve. Everyone lived. We even got Crissy back. Vecna’s the only one who’s history. If you hadn’t got hurt, it would’ve been the perfect revenge.”

This time, he manages to take more of her story in. He gets lost in the part where Robin and Dustin figure out time travel—some crazy shit about the proximity of alternate dimensions causing rumples in the space-time continuum. The rest of her tale unleashes a slew of badass memories that squish all the terrible ones into the dirt. Instead of Eddie being dead, he recalls…

“You and Eddie totally slayed this nasty-ass demo-squid-monster,” says Robin. “It got pretty intense, and when you survived, you had, like, an EPIC hug. Aaaand might’ve kissed. Then, later, you threw yourself at Eddie to save him from flying debris, then you rolled into a crater, and he wound up on top, and…”

Steve suddenly recalls that moment vividly. Eddie straddled his hips, and his own hands landed not entirely accidentally on Eddie’s butt. Once they’d gathered their breaths, Eddie leaned forward, swiped hair from his face, and whispered:

“About what you said to Wheeler. If you still want to win her back, that’s fine, I’ll back off, but… just so you know, six kids is cool with me, Stevie. Not like we need to adopt. When you’re around, they simply rock up.”

“So, yeah,” Robin says, ripping Steve from these mind-blowing revelations, “it took us half a dozen attempts to get things right. In the final boss-fight, it was just you, me, Eleven and Eddie. We were lost in the Upside Down for weeks, before we exploded Vecna into a billion disgusting pieces. Because you're you, you were closest, got caught in the blast. You lost a lot of blood, but all important appendages are still present and correct, including, um… any important appendages you were particularly worried about. Not that I’m saying you were, but… Ugh!” She facepalms. “This so isn’t where I meant to go with that.”

He faintly smirks. “You dug that hole, not me, Buckley.”

“No need to gloat. You’re gonna be fine. Everyone is going to be just fine.”

It’s still too much to take in. One question bugs him the most: “Eddie and me, erm… How far did we..?”

“I didn’t stand there and count the bases, Dingus! He’ll be back in five. Ask him. But, you know, there was talk of picking out rings, getting matching tats and—”

“You’re kidding?”

“A bit. Seriously, by the third week, you two seemed chill. Happy. I really hope you remember it all soon.”

He takes a beat. Warmth pools in his chest, because everything Robin says sure as heck feels true. He gives her hand a little pulse, and their fingers intertwine.

“Robin,” he says. “At the risk of sounding downbeat, it’s all a bit too perfect. I’m kinda worried I’m dead.”

“Oh! You’re really, really not. I’m all sticky and gross 'cos I was here all night, but… would a hug help?”

He nods, levers himself up a little, suppressing a wince at the effort. He wraps the arm unencumbered by the IV around her, and she awkwardly cuddles him. He rests his cheek on her bony shoulder, and breathes deeply, while she rubs juddering circles in his back.

She’s sweaty and clumsy and real.

“You’re not dead, I promise,” she whispers. “If you were, I’d be so mad with you, after all that effort to fix things. Besides, you still got hurt, and we were all out of time travel opportunities. Long story. Anyhow, it's been hell, till the doctors said you’d be okay, and even then… We’ve been so scared.”

Her trembling shakes through him. He tries not to sniffle, but he can't seem to help it. Everyone survived. Eddie’s alive. Eddie and he are…

His heart gives a crazy squeeze that says everything he needs to know.

“As soon as you’re out of here,” whispers Robin, “this summer is gonna be the best ever.”

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)