#there was no chance in hell for this to work in Hopper’s favor

[morganbritton132]

Hopper’s POV

He drives back to Joyce’s busted up house after Eleven closes the gate and finds a kid he doesn’t know passed out on the floor and Steve looking like he died, came back, and was making a valiant effort to die again.

Not great, all around.

He makes sure Will is okay and then leaves Eleven with Joyce (this is fine, ideal for this scenario). He hauls Billy’s unconscious ass into his truck, pulling a muscle in his back in the process, and then puts Steve in the passenger seat.

Steve immediately vomits up blood onto the carpet as soon as the car starts moving (less ideal). Hopper looks at the pool of blood seeping into his interior and says, “That’s probably from your nose bleeding.”

Steve says a truly pathetic voice, “It sucks.”

Hopper chooses to ignore the tears in his voice out of respect and instead asks questions about what happened. His words seem to slide off Steve because he doesn’t really get an answer to anything other than the fact that kid wants to go home.

Hopper gets to the hospital and places Steve in a chair in the waiting room. He tells him to sit tight for a minute, “We figure this out and then you go home. Got it?”

Steve, not having a good grip on much of anything right now, “Got it.”

Hopper gets a gurney and a couple of nurses to help get Billy out of the truck, and then ends up in a twenty minute interrogation with the head nurse about what drugs he was on. He was asked a lot of questions about Billy despite - and Hopper cannot overstate this enough - he does not even know the kid’s name. Much less know if he has any allergies.

The nurse doesn’t budge so Hopper ends up radioing Powell and having him - no questions asked - drive out to Joyce’s and ask Max Mayfield what her brother’s damn name was. She also didn’t know his allergies.

A whole hour passes before he makes it back over to where he left Steve, but the kid is gone.

Hopper kinda assumes that Steve was taken back by a nurse to be treated and is promptly proven wrong when he asks for his room number.

Then comes hours or searching the hospital, the surrounding roads, the Harrington house, and then circling back to Joyce’s. He checks in on El, lies about Steve’s whereabouts to the other kids, and then formulates a game plan with Joyce.

He ends up pulling Powell and Callahan in on the search but no one really comes up with much until Hopper stops to get coffee a little after five AM. The cashier says that yeah, he saw a beat up kid.

The cashier nods like, “Yeah, kid was in a bad way. Almost called ya myself but someone picked him up.”

“Who?”

“I dunno, man. A friend?”

This lead goes dry almost immediately. Steve, he realizes, doesn’t have a lot of friend and the Hagans hadn’t hear from him.

He doesn’t get anywhere until he stops by his house for a change of clothes and listens to Wayne’s message on his answering machine.

Running on zero sleep and sheer force of will, Hopper shows up at Wayne’s front door where he is told to go home. The boy is alive and he ain’t leaving.

Wayne gets off work and finds some kid wandering around a parking lot covered in bruises and nearly in tears because he can’t get the lid off a bottle of ibuprofen, and just takes the kid home.

He never really gets a clear answer out of the kid about where he lives or anything other than being worried about pissing off Hopper and his head hurting, so he stops trying.

He puts the kid to bed on the couch, leaves Hopper a nasty voicemail, and then stays up as long as he can manage to make sure the kid doesn’t die in his sleep.

This is how Eddie wakes up a couple hours later to find his uncle slumped over in a chair and Steve “The Hair” Harrington asleep on the couch.

[red-the-dragon-writes]

This is Transformers fanfic only really in the vaguest sense.

“Are you sure we need a virgin for this?” Hayden asked.

“What do you mean, am I sure?” the Grand High Vizier of the Dark Mages Association (to be, anyway) said. His name was Vince. Soon he’d be known all over the world, at least if this summoning worked. “Come on, are you stupid? Every fucking demon sacrifice ever asks for a virgin sacrifice, obviously it actually needs a virgin.”

“I mean yeah, but I read somewhere that-”

“Oh, you read somewhere,” Vince started.

“I read somewhere, don’t fucking cut me off, I read somewhere that ‘virgin’ used to just mean a young woman historically and not, like, someone who’d never had sex, and it’ll be a lot easier to find some random chick than it will be to make sure they never screwed around ever in their life, you know?”

“Hayden. Hays. Listen.”

“I’m serious.”

“You’re a fucking moron.”

“Pushing your fucking luck, Vince. You need me for this. Are you sure.”

“Yeah, I’m fucking sure,” Vince snapped. “And before you ask, yes we need an actual goat, too, if you bring me a fucking sheep I am going to flip my shit.”

“You’ll take what I fucking give you unless you want to do all the procuring your own self,” Hayden said. “Face it, you came to me because you can’t do it and I can. If you got an issue with me handling things the way you asked me to, then fuck it, I can kill you just as easily as whatever girl you want me to get for you. You’ll speak to me with respect or not at all.

“Jesus christ,” Vince said. “God, get a thicker skin.”

Hayden rolled his eyes. “Okay. What the fuck ever. Know there’s a line and if you cross it I’ll end you. I’ll get you a virgin. How old does she have to be?”

“What?” Vince said.

“How old do you want your fucking virgin,” Hayden repeated. “A kid will be easier than an adult. Do you care.”

“No, I don’t give a shit,” Vince said, waving a hand. “Whatever makes it work. Just get out of here, we only have six more hours before the window is up.”

-

“Vortex, you have got to be kidding me,” Swindle said. “This is so fucking stupid. I’m not doing it.”

“Come on, Swin, you’re the only spirit I know who has even a snowball’s chance in hell of making it work!”

“Absolutely not. You’re not a fucking demon. No one would think you were a fucking demon.”

“Please. Please, seriously. I swear it’ll work.”

“You’re a regular storm elemental, Tex, the fact that they can read means they’re gonna know your signature is totally off,” Swindle insisted. “Onslaught’s gonna kill us if we get caught for this one, we don’t need any more sanctions.”

“We’re not going to get sanctioned,” Vortex insisted. “I just need you to give me sound effects, okay? Trust me.”

Swindle groaned, flashing multicolor into the Aether. “What’s in it for me, anyway?”

“The juiciest parts of their souls and all the best cuts of the meat, what else?” Vortex said. “You’re the black-market hookup here, I don’t know what to do with all that. I just want to have some fun.”

“I’m not a demon either,” Swindle pointed out, as though Vortex didn’t know he’d been spending ages with that one body-hopper Lockdown reading off his playbook and undercutting his business at all turns. There was no way he didn’t know how to snatch an already-partitioned soul. And Vortex could partition anyone. He was an interrogator. It was practically his job.

“What if I got Blast Off in on it? He’s got the void cold, if he were there it really would feel like a demon had shown up.”

“He’s not gonna be a part of it, are you kidding? Are you stupid?”

“He owes me a favor,” Vortex said..

“Uh,” Swindle said. “Look, Tex, I really think this is a bad idea, but I can turn a nice profit on two live human souls… and everyone’s always asking about blood and vitality and spare hope and all that. You get Blast Off in on it, and I’ll see what I can do.”

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

It’s become something of a monthly tradition for Billy and Steve to go to the movies. They take turns picking at random, sometimes laughing and silently making fun of the film with each other, sometimes finding a true gem that they plan on buying on tape later on. Always holding hands and sharing snacks no matter what.

It’s 1988, late November, and they’re bundled up in sweaters and enough layers to stave off the bite in the air, but Billy still shivers when they climb out of the car.

His brows are pinched together as he takes hold of Holly’s hand when they cross the street. Like the action is forced.

Steve was a little surprised when Karen of all people decided to call last minute and ask them to babysit — logically it makes sense, with Nancy off at college and Mike keeping himself out of the house, to ask Billy and Steve for a favor. They have a tendency for collecting strays, probably worse than Hopper.

Still, Steve recalls the face that Billy made when he picked up the phone and heard Karen’s voice.

That look of abject terror. Discomfort. Hurt.

Of course, despite everything, he still said yes. Never mind that they had a date night planned for this evening, or that their house wasn’t presentable for guests. Steve spent a good half hour tidying things up before they headed over to the Wheeler’s and spent the entire drive trying to help Billy relax his grip on the wheel.

When Holly finally slid into the back seat with her unicorn backpack and hair up in pigtails, Billy seemed to relax a little.

At least, he did when they actually pulled out of the driveway.

Now they’re standing out front of the theater, browsing the various posters. Billy points at one in particular that makes Steve’s nose wrinkle.

“No, we aren’t watching that.”

“Why not? It’s got a doll on the cover.”

“Bill.”

The blond smiles and raises his free hand in mock surrender before he glances down at Holly, who releases his hand in favor of walking up to another movie poster for a closer look.

She doesn’t say anything. Just admires the artwork, and Billy and Steve share a glance before they approach the ticket booth.

“Three tickets for the dinosaur movie, please.”

They’ve never gone to see a cartoon before, but Steve supposes that there’s a first time for everything. They get their snacks and make their way towards their theater, passing more posters along the way.

It seems cute. Steve’s always liked dinosaurs.

“I bet it’s gonna be some shit about learning the alphabet or something,” Billy whispers, and Steve chuckles and elbows him.

And he could not have been more wrong.

They’re decently entertained in the beginning, sharing glances over the top of Holly’s head every now and again. About half an hour into the film, Steve isn’t smiling anymore.

He kind of freezes in his seat. Thinks uh oh before he even gets the chance to look over at his partner.

And, yeah, Steve’s getting a little bleary eyed, but Billy’s face is streaming with tears. He has a hand clasped over his mouth, eyes wide. Completely unaware that the darkness in the theater isn’t enough to shield him from view.

Steve wants to go around to the other seat and lift up the armrest between them. Snuggle into his side like they usually do. Hell, he kind of wants to just grab him and go, because this was supposed to be fun.

Before he settles on a decision, Holly looks up at Billy and instantly scoots closer to his seat. Wraps her little arms around his bicep and leans against him without so much as a blink. It works to calm him down enough that he doesn’t look horrified anymore — really, Steve’s just surprised that he doesn’t shove her away afterwards.

He hates it when people see him cry.

The three of them stay seated, no longer hesitant about finishing the movie. Every time Steve glances over at his partner, he seems utterly serious about paying attention to the plot. Sure, he giggles when something silly happens on the screen, but he always defaults back to pinching his eyebrows together in concentration.

There are a few points in the movie that have Steve’s eyes watering again, but none so much as the end. And he knows that if he’s a little distraught, Billy’s a fucking wreck.

When the lights come on and they exit the theater, Holly dumps her empty soda cup in the trash and makes a direct line for the restroom, her two adult chaperones left waiting outside with puffy eyes and red noses.

Steve leans his back against the wall and pats Billy’s shoulder after a moment.

“You alright, bud?”

The blond nods. Shoves his hands into his pockets and sniffles, keeping his gaze trained on his boots.

“I liked it.”

“You did?” Steve almost laughs when he says it, but manages to keep it down when Billy casts a half-hearted glare at him. “Who was your favorite character?”

Billy contemplates briefly before he shrugs.

“I liked Ducky.”

“Really? I totally thought you’d like Cera.”

Billy really does glare at him then and Steve snorts.

“Fuck Cera. She was a stubborn asshole and she left Petrie to die in the tar pit, for Christ’s sake, dude.”

Steve softens his smile a bit. Smooths his hand from Billy’s shoulder to his back and rubs a circle right between his shoulder blades.

“Don’t be so hard on Cera. She just wasn’t good at making friends, but that wasn’t her fault, y’know? Doesn’t make her a bad person.”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in, but when they do, Billy sighs. He shifts his weight on his feet, leaning ever so slightly closer to Steve.

“Which one was your favorite?” he asks.

“Hmm… I think I’m gonna have to go with Spike.”

Billy huffs a laugh.

“Why Spike?”

“I dunno, he’s a funky little guy. He just walks around and eats plants and hangs out. Doesn’t get better than that.” Steve grins when Billy gives him a look. “Why do you like Ducky?”

That makes Billy burn red. He crosses his arms and looks away.

“It’s stupid.”

“Aw, honey, I’m sure it isn’t,” Steve coos.

He tilts his head to the side to get a better view of his lover’s face. Billy remains quiet for a beat before he heaves another sigh.

“She’s like the whole reason that any of them became friends, y’know? She’s the glue that holds them together. Without her, none of them would’ve made it to the Great Valley.” His voice is soft when he speaks, but he lowers it even more when he adds, “She reminds me of you.”

And, god, if Steve hadn’t already cried multiple times tonight, he’d be burning up and absolutely bawling right now. He clears his throat and tries to keep composed when Holly exits the bathroom.

The three of them take their leave. She holds Billy’s hand when they cross the street again, and when they’re all piled into the car, he seems a bit more at ease. Like the tears have reached the end of their flow for the evening.

Steve, on the other hand, is biting his lip to keep it from quivering as he stares out the window. It doesn’t take long for Billy’s hand to reach over the center console and find Steve’s, fingers interlocked despite the presence in the back seat.

They have a feeling that Holly isn’t going to be telling anyone anyway.

[carewyncromwell]

Hey guys! POTC AU update time at last! Very sorry for the delay, but s*** is really going down now in this story...

One of my biggest criticisms for the climax of At World’s End is how, ultimately, both the Navy’s armada and all of the diverse pirates gathered together as part of the Brethren Court are ultimately pointless. We get our huge confrontation between the Flying Dutchman and the Black Pearl, which ends with both ships blowing up Beckett’s flagship...and then the Navy just hightails it away with their tails between their legs, even if they still outmatch the pirates and there would surely be a chain of command under Beckett that could take over. There isn’t even anything to show that the Navy lost their nerve after losing their “great leader” or anything or were reluctant to fight to begin with. And again, that ends up making the non-main-character pirates that we only just met in At World’s End, like the Pirate Lords, completely unnecessary to the narrative aside from giving up their Pieces of Eight, which easily could’ve been rewritten to not include the Pirate Lords. This is why I’m restructuring this climax so that all of the Lords (and the Keeper of the Code) have a role in the coming battle, rather than just having them stand on the sidelines.

Black powder is a much messier, more combustible precursor to modern gunpowder, which has a very strong odor and produces a lot of smoke when it explodes. It’s better used for things like fireworks and rockets than firearms, particularly since it’s even more vulnerable to moisture than regular gunpowder is. Black powder was first developed in China circa the 9th century, before its use in firearms was phased out in favor of the cleaner, safer gunpowder we know today.

Although the traditional “Redcoat” was developed as a uniform for British soldiers in the mid-1600s, the British Navy actually didn’t have official uniforms for its sailors until 1748. Before that point, only naval officers generally wore uniforms. My guess about why the Pirates films don’t follow this model and have even the lower-rank British Naval soldiers wear uniforms in AWE is for the sake of visual short-hand for the audience and to further accent the divide between the uniformity of the law-keepers (the army and Navy) VS the diversity of the law-breakers (the pirates).

Previous part is here, and whole tag is here! Jules Farrier-Weasley belongs to @cursebreakerfarrier, Samantha O’Connell belongs to @samshogwarts​, Ellie Hopper belongs to @that-ravenpuff-witch, Arjun Singh and Aishwarya Mehra belong to @hogwarts9, and Finn McGarry/Davy Jones belongs to @theguythatdraws! Also briefly referenced is Gwendolyn “Wendy” Gordon, who belongs to @drinkyoursoupbitch. xoxo

x~x~x~x

When Jules, Jacob, and Orion returned, they immediately convened a war council with the other Pirate Lords and their crews in the Hall of the Codex. There was a lot of strategizing that needed to be done before the battle the following day -- and as to be expected, Murphy McNully was instrumental in pinpointing what they needed.

“According to the Admiral’s intelligence, there are 34 Man O’ Wars out there waiting for us. We ourselves have a fleet of 73 galleons, brigs, schooners, sloops, and ketches. Now, naturally, that sounds like a lot, but keep in mind that each of the Navy’s Man O’ Wars has anywhere between 50 to 100 guns on each ship...meaning they have between 1700 and 3400 guns altogether. Even if we technically could have more guns numerically, there’s a 97.9% chance that our ships wouldn’t be able to withstand a full-frontal assault by those things. If we tried, we’d basically have to sacrifice our lives in the hundreds just to deal any damage, and even then, there’s less than a one percent chance that we could actually defeat the Navy, doing that.”

“It’d be a pyrrhic victory, at best,” said Ellie sadly.

Jae nodded. “I doubt any of us are much in the mood for a suicide mission, so we’ll need to come up with something better.”

“Especially since Carey’s on board one of those ships,” said Bill solemnly. “We can’t let him get hurt.”

Charlie, Jules, Jacob, and Orion’s eyes all narrowed at this. While Charlie and Jules nodded in agreement, Jacob’s jaw clenched and Orion clasped his hands in his lap and closed his eyes.

Ashe brought a hand up to squeeze Jacob’s shoulder, resting his head absently on top of his.

“Speaking from my own experience,” he said very dryly, “brute strength is hardly a be-all-end-all. Obviously one should think twice before attacking a larger enemy...but sometimes the element of surprise can turn the tide. Larger enemies often assume they have less to fear.”

“Aye...” said Jacob softly.

He considered the makeshift map and model ships they’d set up on the stained round table. Then he reached out to pick one of the miniature ketches and consider it carefully.

"We don’t have the firepower to defeat the Navy,” he said to the others, “but we do have stealth on our side.”

He immediately set about maneuvering the pieces around on the map, grouping all of the smaller ones together.

“The first thing we need is for a fleet made of the smaller ships -- the schooners, sloops, and ketches -- to carefully infiltrate the Man O’ Wars. Send a few of our men onto each ship in disguise, so they can load their lower decks with unlit explosives.”

“They could also easily sabotage their cannons and rudder chains, while they’re there,” said Orion softly.

Jacob shot a halfhearted glare at Orion out the side of his eye. Clearly even if they were allies and Orion brought up a great point, the Pirate Lord of the Atlantic Ocean was still a bit resentful about the Lord of the Caribbean Sea’s relationship with his sister.

“...Right. Then I say we -- meaning you, Captain Farrier-Weasley, as the Pirate King -- warn Beckett and the Navy that we’ll release Calypso, if they don’t turn back and let us leave Shipwreck Cove in peace. With Jones being with them, Beckett and the Navy either should already know or will immediately find out just how dangerous that is. Make sure to bluff Beckett that Calypso has so much power that she could destroy a Man O’ War with her little pinky, if she wanted.”

Samantha’s face lit up as she caught on to Jacob’s idea. “Oh! Then once Calypso is free and the weather starts getting bad...we can have the galleons and brigs attack the Man O’ Wars -- ”

“ -- and we can blow up the explosives on board with our cannons!” finished Charlie, exchanging an excited grin with Samantha.

Merula’s face burst into an huge smile too. “And it’ll make it look to the Navy like Calypso has given us this supernatural power boost!”

“Brilliant!” said Bill.

“There’d still be a 34% chance we’ll lose a few ships doing that,” said McNully thoughtfully, “but even if we’ll be outgunned and out-manned, the Man O’ Wars should be sabotaged enough that they won’t be able to attack right away. And the explosions we’d get would no doubt give those Navy officers a good scare, which might discourage them from fighting.”

Jacob nodded. “That fleet of larger ships can then keep the Man O’ Wars busy while Captain Farrier-Weasley and I sail the Revolution out to confront the Flying Dutchman. The Revolution’s probably the only ship we have that’s fast enough to compete with the Dutchman in a sea battle.”

“And we’ll need to overpower Jones, if we want to get close enough to Beckett,” said Jules, her dark eyes hard with determination.

“Jones is the Queen in this chess match,” agreed McNully. “He’s the most powerful piece on the board, so if we can topple him, we’ll have a much better chance. If we can then corner the King -- namely, Beckett -- we could use that leverage to win the whole thing.”

Bill and Charlie exchanged a look. Then the elder Weasley spoke up.

“...The plan’s great, Jacob -- but there’s a problem. Captain Hopper said that most of you lot were never soldiers. There’s a lot of training that you have to go through before going out to sea with the British Navy, and there’s just as much protocol you have to follow while you’re there. If one of our men makes a wrong move and gets caught, it could blow the whole ruse.”

“Then maybe we should go, Bill,” said Charlie. “We know the way things work -- we’d be able to blend in -- ”

“Not with that hair, you won’t,” said Merula dully.

“Face Paint is here at the Cove,” pointed out Skye. “They could fix that -- ”

Orion shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s still too risky. The Admiral indicated that Percy Weasley is also on board one of those ships. As much as I don’t think he’d ever wish to harm you, I don’t believe one could fool one’s family that long. And judging by how your last meeting ended,” he glanced at Charlie and Bill solemnly, “one cannot be certain he would choose family loyalty over what he believes is morally right.”

“Yeah, I wager there’s only a 35% chance he wouldn’t try to stop you two, if he saw you,” said McNully with an apologetic look at the Weasley brothers. “Though there is a 25% chance you might collide with Carey Weasley instead, and he could give you a hand...but I don’t think that’s a gamble we should take.”

Ellie’s lips twisted into a frown. “Still...First Mate Weasley’s got a point. It’d be probably best to send someone with the Artemis and the other small ships who already knows how to fit in with the British Navy.”

“If only Captain Moody were still here,” mumbled Barnaby sadly. “He was in the Navy for a long time, before becoming our captain...”

Charlie offered Barnaby a sympathetic look. Jae, however, looked rather thoughtful.

“...I do have...one contact that could be helpful.”

Everyone turned to look at him.

“He’s a bit of a loose cannon,” said Jae, “too impulsive for his own good and bull-headed as all Hell...kind of stupid, really. But he was in the Navy once, and he’s pretty good at working in secrecy. I work with him most often whenever there’s news of the East India Trading Company, since he’s got a contact who’s related to one of their most prominent merchants...”

Merula’s eyebrows furrowed. “...Wait a minute. You’re not suggesting Copper?”

Charlie and Jules both blinked.

“Behemoth Ben Copper?” said Jules in surprise. “The pirate who took out all three masts on an Italian frigate with one cannonball?”

“That’d be him,” said Arjun, and like Merula, he looked a bit skeptical. “Jae, I’m not sure. I don’t mean anything against Ben and all, but...well...it’s like you said, he’s a bit of a loose cannon. Ever since he mutinied against his captain, he’s just gotten more and more reckless -- leaving his crew abruptly with no explanation, rearranging his ship’s route on the fly...”

“He’s been acting weird,” agreed Aishwarya.

“Sounds like he’s the perfect choice, then!”

Everyone turned to look at Skye in bewilderment. Contrary to everyone else’s reactions, however, she looked perfectly undaunted, her lips curled up in a perfectly fearless, white smirk.

“From the sound of things, I’d wager Copper’s caught the same type of ‘weird’ that Orion’s had these last few months,” said Skye, shooting a significant look in her captain’s direction.

“And I reckon that kind of ‘weird’ would boost Copper’s motivation to help us by a good 63%,” said McNully very coolly from Orion’s other side.

Orion tried to feign a mild, patient expression as he bowed his head and avoided his crewmates’ amused looks, but he could not obscure the rosy color that was rising up into his cheeks.

“That settles it, then,” said Bill. “Let’s talk to him.”

Benjamin “Behemoth Ben” Copper did indeed boast an impressive height, being as tall as Bill with a scruffy blond beard almost as long as Jacob’s, a piece cut out of his left ear, and plenty of scars up and down his arms and along the base of his neck. He also came across as rather unpleasant, on first meeting. Although Jules had decided Orion and the Artemis would lead this smaller fleet in their mission, Ben seemed very skeptical of Orion from the off-set and was a bit forceful in trying to assert himself.

“For this mission, may us look to our friends, the cuttlefish, for guidance,” Orion said calmly as he addressed the small team of Navy veteran pirates they’d managed to assemble. “They change their appearance and attitude to blend into their environment, so as to evade the dangerous predators that might hunt them...and so too shall we.”

“The Navy isn’t that dangerous,” said Ben rather coldly.

Everyone turned to look at the much taller man, who was leaning against the back wall with his arms crossed.

Orion regarded him with patience, his hands clasping in front of him. “Not as dangerous as they’d like us to believe, true...but they do still out-gun us quite a bit.”

“That’d be more of a threat if half their new recruits weren’t so scared of the sound of gunfire that they all shut their eyes and can’t aim properly,” said Ben. “It’s not like most of those men have even seen combat like this, since England’s no longer at War.”

Orion didn’t respond, so Ben got up off the wall and strode over to look at him properly.

“Explain to me why we don’t just take down all of the ships ourselves, once we’re on board? We can more than take those lily-livered cowards...”

“We’re not doing that because it’s not the plan we agreed on, Copper,” Skye snapped. 

“Skye,” Orion said in a quelling voice without removing his gaze from Ben.

“They’d never expect anyone to actually try attacking them head-on, so the element of surprise will still be there,” Ben plowed on, his brown eyes flashing with righteousness. “I say we just take all of their sailors out, one by one, while that pig Cutler Beckett is too busy gloating to take notice.”

Orion raised his eyebrows. “‘Take them out?’ Oh, no. No, I’m afraid that won’t do.”

“You’re afraid of the ships and their firepower -- but the men on those ships are vulnerable,” Ben said sharply.

“All the more reason to not hurt them more than we have to,” said Orion. “If the Navy’s ships are damaged, most of the sailors on board will still have the time to abandon ship and leave the battle with their lives.”

“Those sailors mean to kill us -- to arrest and hang the ones we love and anyone who’s ever helped us -- ”

“Not all of them,” said Orion, and his patient voice for the first time dipped low into his throat and echoed with some edge. “And because not all of them seek to destroy us and the ones we love, we have more than enough reason to not destroy them ourselves. The ships are what we fear, as you said -- they are our enemy, not the men on board -- and without that weapon of theirs, those sailors will be unable to inflict the damage we fear.”

Ben’s brown eyes bore into Orion’s very critically. Then, exhaling through his nose in a short huff, he reluctantly nodded and stepped back.

Orion turned to Face Paint. “We’ll need to make sure all of our men look like they belong among the Navy’s ranks.”

Face Paint grinned. “Don’t worry! I’ve got this.”

With some guidance from the ex-veterans on the Navy’s usual dress code, Face Paint got to work covering up scars with make-up and dressing the team accordingly. Fortunately, unlike the British army, Navy soldiers generally had more freedom in how they dressed, so long as their clothes were neat and conservative. Once Face Paint was finished, Orion had a team of about eleven men who looked as out of place on Shipwreck Cove as he himself had looked on the streets of Port Royal.

Before Orion left with the Artemis and the rest of the fleet of small ships, however, Jacob rather sharply stepped in front of him and insisted on speaking to him in private. Skye and McNully looked notably concerned, but Orion agreed, and the two stepped aside so no one else could hear them.

“Don’t think I don’t know why you’re doing this,” Jacob murmured.

Orion raised his eyebrows, even though his expression remained grimly unreadable. “It was your plan, to send the smaller ships to infiltrate the Navy’s Man O’ Wars.”

“I was not including you when I said that!” snapped Jacob.

He took an aggressive step forward, right into Orion’s personal bubble.

“I know why you’re doing it, Amari, and it’s not just because Captain Farrier-Weasley asked you to be in charge of that mission,” he said in a very low snarl, rather like that of a territorial dog.

Orion’s eyes grew a little smaller, but remained too murky to read properly. “I daresay my reasoning is the same as why you arranged it so that you would be on the ship facing off against the Flying Dutchman.”

“Do not compare my motives with yours!” said Jacob fiercely, as his skull-like eyes flared like flames. “I don’t care what you feel for my Wyn -- you could never understand what she means to me! I would and will do anything I have to in order to protect her -- ”

“I know,” Orion cut Jacob off as calmly as he could. “I could never understand the bond you two share.”

His dark eyes flickered with a strange emotion.

“...But...I do understand what a beacon she is -- how, like a candle, she can light up a room enough to comfort you, when you’re most frightened. How the soft, warm light she gives off is for you alone...how the embers she leaves behind burn long after her light has left you. How she’ll...drain herself of whatever strength she has...just to make sure you don’t despair.”

Something cracked in Jacob’s eyes, betraying genuine vulnerability. A vein pulsed in his jaw and his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Orion clasped his hands in front of him, regarding Jacob with a grim, sad expression.

“Care --...your sister...is a truly remarkable woman. She always has been, from the day I ended up on your doorstep back in Port Royal all those years ago. I can’t say for sure that I’ve loved her since then, but...when we found each other again, I realized that the freedom I have on the high seas is superficial at best...for I wasn’t free to stay with her...no more than she’s free to follow me. If she stays with Cutler Beckett...if she ends up impressed into service on the Flying Dutchman...”

Jacob’s fists clenched tighter and started to shake. Orion’s eyes rippled with pain and anxiety as he closed them.

“I can’t do nothing while Carewyn loses what little freedom she has left,” the taller captain burst out before he could stop himself. “However cruel Jones is in the legends I’ve heard, I know first-hand Cutler Beckett is a crueler master than he could ever be.”

He ran his pointer and middle finger alongside the inside of his wrist, where the “P” brand shone a tense white on his tanned skin. He breathed in and out through his nose slowly to try to calm his heart rate, before he opened his eyes to look back at Jacob.

“...I know our methods are different, but our goal is the same. Although I hope you succeed in overcoming Jones and force him to release her...I’m sure you understand why I have to take measures in case you don’t.”

Jacob’s eyes narrowed upon Orion’s face, but for the first time, there was confusion muddled with the distrust.

“I already told you that Jones won’t care if my Wyn gets married and takes on another name,” he said quietly. “He said she’d still be considered a Cromwell.”

Orion’s dark eyes softened sadly. “I know.”

Jacob’s eyes scrunched up further. Then they widened as he thought of something he hadn’t before. The thought made his face go very white.

“You...”

Orion did not respond, but Jacob knew he’d figured out what Orion was thinking. It made his fists shake at his sides and his pupils narrow to slits.

‘He’s...truly that selfless?’

Jacob didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t believe that this man loved his sister that much.

Despite himself, he couldn’t help but lash out.

“...I do not give my blessing to this! I don’t care what sincere affect you dance around with, I will never trust you with my Wyn’s heart, Amari! You could never deserve my sister!”

But Orion’s features merely prickled with the hints of a smile. "I know.”

Jacob gave an aggravated sigh, throwing his hand up in a violent smack at the air, as he threw his head back and rolled his eyes up in the direction of the ceiling.

He wanted to hate this man so much, but it was proving difficult when he wouldn’t rise to anything he said. He wanted him to fight back, to get mad -- then he could feel justified in protecting Carewyn from him...

But in truth, Jacob knew -- this man wasn’t someone to protect Carewyn from. Truthfully...he knew this man would likely do just as much to protect Carewyn as he would...

Jacob’s hollowed-out eyes ran over Orion’s face, narrowing critically. Then, at last, he said,

“...You were the boy, weren’t you? The one Wyn hid under her floorboards.”

Orion’s eyes flickered with fondness and he inclined his head in a small nod. Jacob inhaled slowly through his nose and then exhaled very heavily.

“I will stop Jones,” he said very lowly. “So your 'measures’ won’t be necessary.”

With this, Carewyn’s brother turned on his heel and strode away, his black boots clapping against the cobblestones as he went.

As the pirates set their plan into motion, Carewyn herself was finishing up business on the Flying Dutchman. She was meant to remain on the HMS Lion with Beckett for the battle, but she insisted on speaking to all of her men on the ship and leaving proper instruction before departing. After all, the Admiral argued, even if Rakepick was staying on board, she was not a Naval officer, nor was she their commanding officer. It also was the excuse Carewyn needed to speak to Davy Jones privately.

Jones looked to be in a fairer mood than she’d seen him last. Carewyn wasn’t sure for the reason for it, but she hoped it wasn’t in response to the impending battle. Regardless of how Jones felt about the pirates and Shipwreck Cove, she dreaded the thought of anyone actually anticipating the battle. Instead, however, she reassured Jones that she would pass along whatever intelligence she gathered about where Rakepick had hidden his heart.

“I know Rakepick said she was out for herself, but there are only so many places she could’ve hidden it,” she said. “Port Royal is out of the question: it couldn’t be used as any sort of leverage there. So she either one, was lying and has it close by somewhere on the Dutchman...or two, Beckett does know where it is, but Rakepick plans to backstab him.”

“I suspect the former,” said Jones lowly, his dark eyes narrowing as he shot a glance out the stained-glass window of the cabin. “I can feel my heart’s presence, so it must be close.”

Carewyn inclined her head slightly. “I see. In that case, you might be able to retrieve it yourself. I’m sorry I can’t be of further help.”

She paused. Then, taking a deep breath, she spoke again.

“Captain Jones, time is not on our side...but something’s been bothering me. When I first agreed to help you, you knew my real name, without me having told you. You said that was because you know everyone’s true name, but...”

She considered him warily.

“...It’s also because...you know my older brother...don’t you?”

Jones’s eyes narrowed. He considered her for a long moment, before he gave a clipped nod.

“...Aye. I know him.”

Carewyn’s heart sank. ‘Then Rakepick was right -- Jacob did make a deal with Jones. That must be why Orion said Jacob ‘would be disappointed’ -- ’

“...What does he owe you?”

Jones, for the first time, looked almost evasive. He turned away, casting his eyes to the opposite wall as he took a few plodding steps away.

Carewyn watched him move, her arms which had been folded behind her back slackening at her sides.

“Captain Jones, please,” she said, and some desperation echoed in her voice despite her best efforts, “I already might not have enough power to protect him from Beckett, I have to know what debt he might have with you.”

Jones was quiet for a moment longer. When he finally spoke again, his voice was very low, reluctant...even regretful.

“...The price...was a lifetime of service, from a member of his family.”

Carewyn’s eyes widened.

‘A lifetime of service...?’

Jacob’s intense, anxious reaction to the death of Charles and Blaise suddenly made sense.

‘He must’ve meant to give one of them to Jones,’ Carewyn’s mind raced. ‘Could he really have agreed to something like that -- enslave Grandfather or Blaise to Jones?’

Unfortunately it didn’t sound completely out-of-character for Jacob -- for as much as she’d hated Charles Cromwell and resented Blaise, Carewyn knew her feelings paled in the face of Jacob’s. Not only had he been older and thus forced to do more of their dirty work, but he’d also always loathed how much they hurt Carewyn when they were young, both to keep him in line and in a cruel attempt to “toughen her up.”

But now...now Blaise and Charles were dead. All of the Cromwells -- Jacob’s family -- were dead...except for...

Carewyn’s face was very white. Her lips came together and she bowed her head, casting her eyes into shadow.

“...I see,” she whispered, her voice shakier than she’d intended.

‘This is why Orion and Jacob want me off the Dutchman. Because I’m the only one who can fill Jacob’s debt.’

Jones glanced over his shoulder, his dark eye oddly ashamed.

“He did it out of love for you,” he said very quietly. “I confess, before we met, I’d seen irony in the situation. Now...I wish I could excuse the debt, but...”

Jones swallowed, and the tentacles of his beard gave a series of low pops.

“...Magical contracts...are not so easily broken. Once someone is marked with the Black Spot, the terms will be met, whether I want them to be or not. Fate will maneuver itself in such a way that you end up as part of my crew, even if I actively decide not to take you. As long as your brother and I both live...the terms are etched in stone.”

Jones then strode back over, fixing Carewyn with a solemn eye.

“Unless...you wanted to make a deal yourself? One soul could be comparable to another.”

Carewyn closed her eyes and considered this. After a long moment, she swallowed, and shook her head.

“That’s not something I can give you,” she whispered.

Jones’s eyes grew a little smaller as he faced the door. “I thought you might say that.”

He paused. His claw clicked together at his side.

“I...lament that a noble soul like yours is doomed to remain with me,” he murmured. “I will do my best to take care of you, as part of my crew.”

With another set of plodding steps, Jones walked over to the door of the cabin, opened it, and left.

Carewyn’s knees buckled out from under her. She collapsed onto the bench in front of the massive organ, staring down at her own booted feet without even seeing them.

She couldn’t thrust this burden on anyone else. How could she? No matter who they were...no one deserved to live their life in servitude. Carewyn knew she would never be able to live with herself, doing something so cruel...but...

It...it wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair! She’d already had to resign herself to the knowledge that she couldn’t shield the others from Beckett -- she’d already had to resign herself to staying under Beckett’s foot. Not only was she helpless in helping the ones she loved escape Beckett...but now...once she was a member of Jones’s crew...she would likely never see any of them again. She’d never be able to make that world that they deserved -- a world where they could live free of the fear of being captured and hanged...a world where they could live and chase their dreams in peace.

She’d never see Orion again. She’d never see Jacob again. She’d never see Bill again. She’d never see Charlie again. She’d never see Jules or Percy again.

Carewyn took a sharp intake of breath, trying to contain her emotions, but it was no use. Her hands flew to her face, clutching desperately, as she tried in vain to suffocate the tears spilling out of her eyes and the sobs erupting out of her throat.

Little did Carewyn know that a red-haired woman much taller than her had been beside the window of the captain’s cabin and had heard the entire conversation.

Under the cover of the fog that  swept in that night, Orion’s team of Navy veteran pirates split up and stowed away aboard the Navy’s ships, each carrying one of the hundred black barrels of highly explosive black powder Jae had prepared for them. They would then be able to fetch more from one of the many sloops, ketches, and schooners floating among the armada the rest of the night.

As luck would have it, Ben boarded a ship that turned out to be the HMS Lion itself. He was glad of it, as he was determined to make sure that Beckett could never target anyone else again. Unfortunately, as soon as Ben arrived on board the ship, he was immediately uneasy. No one had spotted him arrive, but this ship wasn’t like any of the ships he’d seen during his time with the Navy. Everything was so unusually clean and precise and brand new, as if none of it had been touched -- and stranger still, all of the sailors, from their perfectly polished gold-buckled shoes to their blue and white uniforms to their gold-trimmed black tricorn hats, looked as identical as a set of dolls.

Little did Ben know that Cutler Beckett had higher standards of uniformity for the ship he was on than he did any of the other ships in his armada -- and so, even perfectly disguised as an ordinary sailor, Ben stood out like a sore thumb.

“You there!” said one of the lieutenants, upon spotting Ben on the staircase down to the lower decks. “Where’s your uniform, sailor?”

Ben faltered. ‘Uniform? Regular sailors don’t wear -- ’

He immediately put down the barrel he’d been carrying and turned around, putting on his strongest face as he stood up perfectly straight and saluted.

“...I’m only a new recruit, sir. I have no rank.”

“All sailors on the HMS Lion were given a custom uniform, when first they were selected by Lord Beckett,” snapped the lieutenant, his black eyes narrowing suspiciously upon the much taller man. “I ask you again -- where is yours?”

Ben immediately guessed that he’d made a huge mistake. Knowing that if he didn’t do something drastic, he’d blow the whole operation, his hand slid down to the pistol in his belt. Did he dare silence the man by force? Would that not alert the rest of the ship?

“What’s going on here?”

Another officer -- this one with a ginger red ponytail and almond-shaped blue eyes -- came down from the helm and over to the two men.

“A-Admiral Weasley!” said the lieutenant, straightening up immediately.

‘Admiral?’ thought Ben. ‘Then this is Carey Weasley?’

His brown eyes narrowed upon the frame of the Navy’s greatest hero.

'...He’s so...tiny.’

Carewyn looked from the lieutenant to Ben, her blue eyes narrowing.

“Ah, I suppose Captain Weasley’s sent over another new recruit,” she said smoothly. “Where is this man’s uniform, Lieutenant?”

“That -- I just asked that, sir,” the lieutenant stumbled over his words.

“Respectfully, I hope,” said Carewyn rather pointedly.

“That -- well -- I merely thought it was suspicious. We normally are all given uniforms, prior to boarding -- I hadn’t known that Captain Weasley was sending over any...”

The lieutenant looked a bit sheepish. It was remarkable how he looked and sounded so much more boyish around the Admiral, compared to how harsh and suspicious he’d sounded when he addressed Ben.

“No matter, Lieutenant,” said Carewyn, giving the young man a soft smile. “You thought of the safety of our ship and crew. That’s the right instinct to have, despite the circumstances.”

She turned to Ben, her eyes becoming a bit more solemn.

“What’s your name, sailor?”

“Cooper, sir,” Ben said at once, giving a salute. “Gordon Cooper.”

“Well, Mr. Cooper, you’d best come with me, before Lord Beckett sees you out of uniform. He likes his flag ship run just so.”

And so Ben reluctantly followed the Admiral down to the ship’s lower level and into the cargo hold. She fetched him a blue and white Navy uniform, but rather than just leaving Ben to put it on himself, she insisted on helping him put it on properly.

“I told you, Lord Beckett likes things just so,” she said. “I will not have any sailor under my command end up on the wrong side of him.”

“I can put on a bloody shirt,” Ben said before he could stop himself.

“See that you do, then,” said Carewyn very coolly.

Ben watched, perfectly bewildered, as the Admiral hung the blue coat she’d set aside for him off of a nail sticking out of one of the beams of the ship and smoothed the wrinkles out of it.

With a dull snort, he pulled the faded red shirt and brown trousers Face Paint had dressed him in up over his head and switched it out for the white Navy breeches, stockings, and shirt he’d been given. He tried to keep his back to Carewyn, so as to obscure the scars on his upper chest and arms.

As he changed, Ben suddenly realized he heard a soft, husky voice humming a tune in the back of their throat.

“Now some have died, and some are alive...and others...sail on the sea...”

Ben straightened up sharply.

“...With the keys to the cage and the Devil to pay,” he echoed, “we lay to Fiddler’s Green.”

He turned around to look at Carewyn, who still had her back to him.

“So you are allied with us,” he said under his breath.

Carewyn glanced over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “‘So?’ You sound like someone already told you that, previously.”

“Two people, actually,” Ben corrected her, crossing his arms. “Orion Amari, for one. The other...”

He glanced off to the side absently, his brown eyes growing a bit mistier at the thought.

“...She...has family who works for the East India Trading Company. While one of their ships was docked in Port Royal, she’d spoken to some of the prisoners awaiting execution...and though most of them were no state to talk, the ones who were expressed their admiration for Carey Weasley -- how he was the only person on the Dutchman who showed them any kindness.”

The thought of Wendy’s face as she described what the prisoners had told her made Ben’s heart clench. 

“...That kind of decency...was something I thought the Navy lost long ago.”

Carewyn’s eyes grew a little smaller and grimmer as they fell down onto Ben’s shoulder.

“I’m afraid it has, for the most part,” she said softly, “but only because of those currently in command. Our men are still good men...just misguided.”

Ben couldn’t keep the disbelieving, resentful glare from his face. He strode past Carewyn to fetch the blue coat, but the Admiral bustled in front of him, fetched a gold-buttoned white vest, and set about slipping it over Ben’s shirt.

“Here -- you’ll need this, first.”

Ben’s mouth dropped open in bewilderment and irritation.

“Wha -- oh, come on, I’m not some little lost lamb!”

“Definitely not,” said Carewyn dryly. “You’re anything but ‘little.’“

She started buttoning up Ben’s vest. The pirate gave an aggravated groan.

“Seriously? Ugh...will you knock it off? You’re acting like my mother -- ”

“Well, you’re acting like a child, so I reckon that’s appropriate,” Carewyn shot back. She then added a bit more solemnly, “Look, I can’t help Orion, Bill, and the others while I’m stuck here...but I can help you help them. So that’s what I intend to do, whether you like it or not.”

Ben’s face darkened with an embarrassed flush as he looked away, shooting daggers into the far corner with his eyes, while Carewyn finished buttoning up his vest.

“I should probably help you trim your beard too,” said Carewyn absently. “Navy men don’t wear beards much these days, even when they’re not officers...”

“I don’t need you to trim my beard,” Ben said grumpily. “I can shave myself.”

“Oh, you don’t believe in the old superstition, then. Good...I’ve had to shave some of my men’s faces for them, so that Beckett wouldn’t give them a hard time for looking scruffy...”

Ah, then it was about reassuring the men who were too superstitious to shave on board so they could still follow Beckett’s dress code, more than simple smothering. That made Ben feel a bit better.

“...Hm, well...I suppose I have been meaning to cut it a bit anyway...”

Once Carewyn had finished buttoning up Ben’s vest, she adjusted his collar.

“When did you leave the Navy?” she asked without looking at his face.

Ben considered her for a moment before answering.

“...Four years ago. I’d gone to sea to try to rise above my station...to earn enough money that I could...well...improve my prospects. But I ended up on board a ship with a captain who sacrificed the lives of his own men, not to protect the innocent, but to protect a ship he held financial stock in. A ship owned by Cutler Beckett, transporting gold, spices, ivory, and slaves to the colonies.”

Carewyn was immediately reminded of Orion. “So you rebelled.”

“Not right away,” Ben corrected. “I tried to have the captain court-marshalled first. But the Navy only gave him a light talking-to and left it at that. They didn’t remove him from service or strip him of his rank, or even publicly reprimand him -- he was allowed to just go about his business like before. And worse, he knew I was the one who’d reported him -- so he ended up retaliating against me, since he was still my commanding officer. I, well...eventually I just got fed up -- so I stopped cowering and fought back.”

Carewyn’s light blue eyes narrowed. “I see. ...You did the right thing.”

Ben’s face seemed to soften slightly. “...Thanks. It hasn’t always felt like the right thing.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t.”

Carewyn fetched the blue coat and helped Ben put it on. This time, he didn’t put up as much of a fuss, even though he considered Carewyn with a more critical, solemn expression.

“Why haven’t you fought back against Beckett?” he asked lowly. “You know what he’s doing is wrong.”

“If I were to fight now, I’d lose,” said Carewyn, “and if I lose, then the ones I love will be in more danger than ever.”

‘My future is already out of my reach. My freedom is already out of reach. If anything happened to them...I’d lose the best part of myself.’

“... I need to wait for the right moments where I can actually make a difference...like this one, for instance,” she added with a slight smile.

Ben’s eyes grew a little smaller as he studied her face.

“...It’s hard for you to stay silent, isn’t it?”

Carewyn didn’t respond, but her eyes squinted a bit too, rippling with a dark emotion as she yanked a loose thread free of Ben’s coat and adjusted the buttons.

“There,” she said at last. “Don’t forget your hat, when you’re out on deck.”

She handed a gold-trimmed black tricorn hat to him, but Ben didn’t put it on, instead holding it loose at his side.

“I won’t be on deck long,” he said. “I’ll be here below deck most of the time...I’ll be gone by dawn.”

Carewyn blinked. Then her whole face seemed to light up in realization.

“...Sabotage,” she whispered. Her almond-shaped blue eyes were almost over-bright. “Black Jack Roberts planned this, didn’t he?”

Ben was startled. “Uh...yeah, he did.”

‘Oh, that’s just like Jacob! He’s always been brilliant...’

Carewyn’s eyes gleamed with warm, intense pride and fondness as she cast her gaze aside.

Ben looked at Carewyn curiously. “...You know Black Jack?”

Carewyn beamed. “Oh, aye -- we go way back.”

“How far back?”

“We grew up together.”

‘I don’t need to explain how we’re related,’ thought Carewyn. ‘If Orion didn’t feel the need to tell him my real name, I don’t have to...it’s not exactly necessary information.’

Carewyn’s response, however, sparked an interesting reaction from Ben. Almost instantly, his hard, overly serious expression had become much softer and warmer, betraying a genuine smile.

“Really...”

The faintest ghost of a laugh seemed to fall from his lips as he bowed his head, his eyes drifting down to the ground. Carewyn smiled slightly in return.

“Now then, Mr. Cooper...I’ll leave you to your work. The barracks are on the lower deck on the starboard side of the ship,” she nodded to the the hallway behind them, “and the officers’ quarters are just up the stairs from there. The walls are thin and most of the officers will be up and about doing nightly rounds, so be careful not to make too much noise. If they catch you ‘out of bed,’ do as they say and pretend to go to your bunk -- you can always use the shortcut that goes through the spirit room on the far right wall to get back out into the hallway without going out the way you came. When you’re up on deck, avoid the windows by the captain’s cabin at all cost -- Beckett can be up when you least expect it, and if he sees any movement outside his windows, he might see fit to investigate. I’ll try to keep the other officers occupied at the helm as much as I can, so they don’t notice you.”

Ben picked up his barrel again with a nod. “Thank you.”

Carewyn saluted him, and he returned the gesture with his arm not holding the barrel.

“By the way,” he added, “the name’s Copper, not Cooper. Ben Copper.”

Carewyn’s lips spread into a full smile. “Nice to meet you.”

She reached out and took hold of the taller man’s shoulder, giving it an abridged squeeze.

“Godspeed...and best of luck.”

By dawn, Ben had finished his preparations and left the HMS Lion, slipping onto the Artemis so that it could sail away before the fog dissipated. Ben had been the last one to finish and return to the fleet, so Skye had expressed the (rather irritable) concern the crew felt that Ben might have gotten himself caught. Ben confessed that he would’ve if it hadn’t been for the Admiral, and told them what had happened. Orion hadn’t said a word or drawn any attention to himself during the entire recounting, so Ben couldn’t have taken into account how the captain turned his focus up to the large, gold-trimmed Navy ship as they sailed away from it. Neither he nor McNully also never heard Orion pull one of his crew members aside and give him one of his gold earrings, explicitly instructing him to deliver it to Jules.

“She’ll need it, for the unbinding ceremony,” he said.

At dawn, the two Navies -- Royal and Pirate -- assembled for war. All of the Britiwhs Navy’s ships got into position, completely unaware of the trap that lay under their decks. The fleet of the pirates’ galleons and brigs -- including the Phoenix, Blackbird, Naga, and Treasure -- came up around the mouth of Shipwreck Cove like a wall, while the Revolution -- captained by Jules and assisted by her First Mate Bill, Jacob, and Ashe -- sailed out in front as the pirates’ flagship.

In the midst of all of this, the fleet of smaller ships were meant to retreat into the ranks of the larger ships, so as to offer support if any of the large ships were to fall and their crews needed to be rescued. But all of a sudden, the crew of the Artemis realized that Orion was nowhere to be found. Panic set in on deck as they searched for him, with crew members all frantically trying to figure out when they saw him last. It didn’t take long for McNully to put together where Orion had gone.

McNully wheeled his chair across the deck, looking with anxiety up at the HMS Lion, sailing just to the right of the Flying Dutchman.

Bounding up through the ocean waves still trimmed with fog, he caught sight of Orion steering the Artemis’s jollyboat into the Navy ship’s shadow.

Skye came up to the railing too. When she caught sight of the jollyboat too, she violently grabbed hold of the railing, her eyes very wide with horror.

“What’s he DOING?!”

“He’s going after the Admiral,” said McNully.

“The Admiral?” said Ben, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

Skye looked beside herself with anger and concern. “No, no, no, no, NO! Orion, you bloody dunce! Just because I said that your and Copper’s kind of ‘weird’ was helpful at the meeting doesn’t mean I wanted you to act on it in the middle of the goddamned battle!”

She whirled on McNully.

“We have to stop him! He’s going to get himself caught again -- ”

“There’s only a 21.3% chance of that,” McNully cut her off. “It’s a bit hard to be caught and stay caught when a sea battle is about to kick off. There’s a higher probability of him getting himself killed...”

The First Mate felt the urge to swear both out of frustration and out of anxiety, but he kept his head. He rolled his chair around to face the rest of the crew.

“Signal to the Kumiho and the rest of the fleet to continue with the retreat,” he told them. “We’re going after him.”

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One: Breaking the Curse

Chapter 49: Honesty is the Best Policy 

August Booth couldn't be Baelfire. Except…

He could be.

After he'd left the convent, he wasn't sure what he was feeling, so he did the only thing he could do to escape the emotions. He sat down at his wheel in the shop and decided to think instead of feel. The only problem was that he wasn't entirely sure what he should be thinking about either. He'd spent the rest of the entire day considering what he'd learned, and so far, he'd come up with uncertainty.

What were the chances? Could it be that after all this time, after all he'd done to get here, that Baelfire had found him? He went through the clues over and over again in his head, all the hints that worked in his favor, all that didn't.

What didn't fit? There was only one thing he kept coming up with over and over.

They'd met.

They'd talked.

The Blue Bug had claimed that Booth hadn't yet talked to his father. But…that could have been explained easily by saying that they hadn't spoken about their relationship. And other than that one little detail…everything else fit!

He was someone who had been separated from his father in a "difficult" way. Booth could have been lying. But he'd found that every lie had a kernel of truth to make it truly believable. If Booth was Bae, then a "difficult parting" was putting it lightly. They'd been ripped apart by a bean provided by none other than the Superior Bug herself.

And then there was the knife.

Booth had a picture of the dagger in his room, hand-drawn, detailed! His damn name was spelled correctly on the thing! Those were details that only Baelfire would know, and Bae…Bae had always loved drawing just like Milah. It made sense that Baelfire would draw the dagger from memory; he'd done things like that all the time when he was little.

And then there was that one undeniable fact. The Seer had put Booth's face in his head! She'd given him the knowledge that he knew Baelfire! Was it possible he knew Baelfire because he was Baelfire? Was Booth using a false name because he wasn't from here? Was it possible there were no records or hints of who he was because none existed? Because August Wayne Booth was just the name he'd come up with when he arrived? Was it possible, that after all this time, after all he'd done to get to this world, back to his boy, that his son had found him instead?

"A young boy will lead you to him…to what you seek…the boy will be your undoing…" That was what the Seer had said about getting his son back. A boy…Henry had been in the store that morning when Booth had come in. He'd only gone into the back because he'd been looking for something for Henry. It was the first time he'd taken a good look at the man himself. So, in a way, a boy had led him to him.

Everything fit.

So then why hadn't he come to him in that way?

If it was his son and he'd come all the way to Storybrooke from…wherever in the hell he'd come from, why hadn't he said something? Why all the cloak and dagger? Unless…

Unless he wasn't here to see him, unless he was here for a different purpose.

The dagger…

Baelfire had inherited Milah's artistry. They both had usually drawn things that they wanted. For Milah, it was always far off places that she had never seen, places her head invented. Baelfire had usually drawn pictures of people, himself surrounded by a group of friends or the pair of them together. But it wasn't a picture of his face he'd found in his room, or even Emma's or some mysterious person he'd never met and couldn't identify.

It was his dagger. That suggested that perhaps he wasn't here to see him but rather to find the dagger.

Baelfire was here to retrieve his dagger? But…but why unless…unless he wanted to end this. Could that be it? Could that be the reason for the distance for not revealing himself? Was he looking for the dagger to…to get his revenge? To punish him for leaving him alone in this world? To take the Curse away from him once and for all. Was he here to kill him?

"Issues to resolve between them"…he knew those had existed in spades! But were they really enough to turn his once gentle, brave boy into a revenge-seeking killer? Was that why he didn't want to come to him? To talk to him?

Maybe he was lucky that he hadn't come to him. He wouldn't even know where to start with him if he did. What was he supposed to say to him? What could he say after what he'd done? "Sorry" didn't seem like enough, and yet the word felt like it weighed a million pounds on his shoulders.

He hadn't felt this human in years, not since Belle. Despite his spinning, his chest felt tight, and his heart was beating wildly out of control. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He hadn't thought it might happen like this. He'd always thought that when this happened, he'd have time. He'd space to think about what to say to his son when he saw him again, about how to talk to him. He hadn't planned for this. He hadn't considered that Bae might find him, and he'd have to convince him to come clean!

He didn't realize what he was doing. He couldn't ever remember deciding to walk across the street when night fell and up the stairs to a humble office door. He hadn't realized he'd done it until he found himself knocking on the door of Archie Hopper.

But he doubted himself. The second his knuckles heard his own loud rap on the door, it jolted him into awareness.

What was he doing here? What was he going to say? Tell the cricket about his son, the one thing he refused to do with anyone, including Belle? He was mad to think he could! It was stupid to be here.

He'd made it approximately two steps before he heard the door whine open behind him, and he felt as though he'd just swallowed his heart. "Mr. Gold?" the Cricket inquired. "Are you here for the rent?"

He sighed. "Why does everyone ask that?"

"Well, because you, uh…never mind," he stuttered, putting his hands in his pockets and watching him with odd eyes. "Would…would you like to talk?"

Talk. Talk about the son he never talked about? To a bug? To the one part of all of this that didn't fit. The Dark-Haired Stranger knew Archie. But Bae had never met Archie or even Jiminy; he'd been gone before then. Unless…Superior had said Booth wanted counsel. He hadn't been watching him closely before today. Was it possible Booth had talked to Archie before? Maybe he did know him. Maybe they had talked. But did he? The answer was no, and yet when he pictured Booth's face…he saw Baelfire and felt his gut wrench and-

"I don't know" was what came out of his mouth.

Archie stepped back, away from him, providing a clear entrance into what he was sure he called an office. "Well, um…if you'd like to get something off your chest, please come in."

He paused for a moment, to think about it, to consider the implications of going into that room and talking to anyone about anything. Not only was he the Dark One, but he was also Mr. Gold. He didn't talk to anyone if he could help it. But…out of all the people in Storybrooke that would talk about him behind his back, Archibald Hopper was the least likely to do it. Cricket, conscious, psychologist…even if it was from a Curse, maybe it was the latter he needed the most. His son had been here in this world likely for a long time, and he hadn't a clue what was in his head. Maybe Archie would. And if it didn't work out? If all this failed…then when the Curse broke, he could either convince old Archie this was his Cursed self talking or, of course, give the Cricket a memory potion to forget it all. With magic on his side, he'd be able to do anything. With a bit of courage, he might be able to have this conversation.

The office was cozy. It was small, just a single room that he rented to him for a grand a month, but Archie had managed to make it comfortable; cushy chairs and sofas, soft lighting, a gentle paint color, even the dog was comfortable. He was lying inside the office on a thick dog bed with a fresh bowl of water and a toy bone nearby. Pongo. He should have known that he'd have a place in the office. Here in Storybrooke, there was rarely one without the other.

"Please, sit down…" Archie motioned to the small sitting area. He looked his options over with discomfort. He wasn't a "sofa person." He much preferred an armchair, something that exuded power and strength, something that he fit in. But there was nothing here that fit that description. It all seemed carefully chosen to make the individuals in the room equal; his least favorite word.

With a sigh, he accepted his fate and sat down on the couch opposite Archie. He tried for a moment to sit back, make himself comfortable but soon gave up. There was no possible way to be comfortable with all this. Why pretend?

"So…what would you like to talk about? What's on your mind?"

What wasn't on his mind? How in the world was he supposed to say it? "There is someone in my life I have been searching out for…for quite some time. I think…I think I might have found him."

"Tell me more. Who is this individual?" he asked gently, holding eye contact in a way that continued to make him uncomfortable. He tried not to think of when he'd met him as a boy when he'd first saved his parents or given him that tonic. Two lives…he hated how this damn Curse could muddy the waters.

"Not many people know this…"

"Whatever you tell me in this room is strictly confidential. It doesn't go beyond that. I could lose my license if I told anyone."

"Yes, I am a lawyer, Dr. Hopper; I know the ethics you are bound to are similar to those I am bound to."

"Right. I'm…I'm just trying to help."

"I have a son."

Suddenly the stone-cold look that Archie had been wearing since he saw him in the hallway, the look of gentle concern and sympathy vanished as his jaw dropped.

"A son?!" Archie blanched as he sat there, wringing his hands between his knees. His reaction wasn't much better, his heart sped up, and he felt like he was sweating bullets. After all this time, he'd finally said the words out loud for the first time in decades! And if that was how he reacted to knowing he had a child, he'd hate to see how the town would react if they knew about Belle. Now he knew why he'd kept it a secret for so long. This didn't feel good; it didn't feel right. "Wow, I-I didn't know you had a son. How…how old is he?"

It was a fair question. But one he didn't have the answer to. He'd always thought of Baelfire as a boy. But depending on the passage of time between here and the Enchanted Forest…he still could be a boy, but he could also be Booth's age, or his age, or hell even Granny's age! He couldn't even begin to answer that question, but how could he tell the Cursed Jiminy Cricket that?

"Let's start with something easier."

"O-Okay. Um…what do you mean to say that you may have found him?"

"Let's just say there's someone acting the way I would expect them to act."

"So, you…so, you recognize him?"

"Maybe. Or, perhaps, I'm just seeing what I want to see. I don't know…" he whispered. That was the biggest problem in this. He didn't know, not yet. He didn't have enough proof. If the Dark Haired Stranger, Booth, knew his son, couldn't Baelfire just as easily have told him about the dagger? No. Not Bae. He'd have known better. Wouldn't he? There was no telling after all the time that had passed.

"Okay, well, I mean, wouldn't he recognize you?"

"There was…conflict," he admitted, wishing he could remember Mother Superior's words. "I'm not sure he's ready for a tear-soaked reunion."

"So, he sought you out, and he's hanging back?"

He looked up at Archie hopefully. Yes, that was the heart of the issue, potentially. Perhaps the Curse had done the cricket well.

"Maybe, he's watching to see if he's welcome. Looking for a sign that all is forgiven."

He shook his head. "No, no, no. He's not the one that needs to be…" he had to pause to catch himself. He'd gotten worked up over the notion that Bae had done wrong when in reality, it was him who had done wrong. That didn't mean Archie needed to know that. And besides, if Booth was Baelfire, and he'd drawn out the dagger, then forgiveness might be the least of his problems. "I think he might still be very angry."

Archie took a breath, considering. "Anger between a parent and a child is the most natural thing in the world."

Not this kind of anger. "I think he might be here to try to kill me," he admitted darkly.

"Ah. Right. That's…that's not," the Cricket replied, obviously trying to find the words for the bombshell he'd just dropped onto him.

"I let him go. I've spent my entire life since trying to fix it, and now, he's finally here. And I just don't know what to do."

"Be honest," he insisted without a moment of hesitation.

He scoffed. It was so very like the bug to suggest such a thing. He had a feeling that after what happened to Geppetto's parents, honesty came easy to the insect. Perhaps he didn't understand that it didn't always come easily for everyone else.

"Just tell him what you told me, and ask him for forgiveness. And when you're face-to-face, you'll know what to do."

"Honesty's never been the best color on me."

"There's no other way," he insisted.

That was what he was afraid of.

[fandom-imagination-ss]

Day 20 of 25 days of Christmas

Warning.. spicy 🌶

Imagine going too visit the cheif on Christmas Eve for. Favor

Being in the police station wasn’t abnormal too hear. You were always there for one reason or another. But always getting let off the hook by the mayor.. he is your dad. He never let you get in trouble.

It wasn’t like you were Destroying property. Or murdering people. Mainly Jay walking or going a Inc over the speed limit, One time drinking under age. But Now that you’re a adult. And legal in Most parts of the world. The chief who loved destroying your day. Mainly gets you for driving too fast.Hopper loved tormenting you. It only got worst once you got older. Now your in the police department almost weekly. Today was No difference, minus this time. You were willingly here.

As Much as Hopper loved bringing you in on Minor charges. You loved tormenting him. Today you were dressed as a Mrs Clasus. With a short red dress on with White fur trim, a Santa hat with boots that were black. That went too your knees. You wore stockings too keeping your legs. A ting warmer. As you were handing out donuts too the officers on duty. It was Christmas Eve. And you just returned from your last shift from the new mall. As being Mrs. Claus. The job sucked! But you loved the tips. (The Santa who didn’t get any tips did NOT Like having a bunch of young people in his Elf village Due too the lack of tips_)

“What the Hell is this?”

Hopper walked out of his office seeing you. A sight standing there as a Santa. And he tensed up seeing how attractive you looked. He only liked seeing you on his turf if he got one of the guys too arrest you for something.

You looked at Hooper rolling your eyes. “I am giving some Christmas cheer too your fine officers on Christmas Eve.”

“shouldn’t you be home? What the hell you wearing?” He walked over stealing the last chocolate donut. As you spoke, “I just got off work- Oh Hooper. I also came for a small tiny favour.”

He crossed his arms hearing that last part. He sighed heavily as you spoke, “Can we talk in your office?”

He nodded his head as you handed off the last bit of doubts too everyone and followed the chief into his office. He closed the door after you got in as you spoke, “So I did something-“

He sighed heavily knowing it wasn’t going too be a easy favor. “What you do?”

You turned around too face him. Too notice Hopper was staring at your butt. You caught him red handed and he knew it. He rubbed his face walking around you going too his desk, “what’s the favor? I’m busy”

You took a step closer being bold. Sexually frustrating Hooper was your favorite pass time. It started when you were 17. And he simply ingored your antics and then when you graduated school every chance you got too come back home too visit. And too annoying your favorite chief you took the chances. Now fully a adult. And living back in your home town. You loved making him frustrated.

You gripped your hips tightly making the dress cling against your hips a bit and making your v neckline go lower. Showing off even more cleavage. This wasn’t the reason you came too see Hopper. Your request was innocent. But now you cuoldn’t help yourself.

Hopper covered his mouth looking you at slightly annoyed but loving the view.

“If you can stop checking me out for five seconds I can ask you the favor”

Rolling his eyes he spoke, ‘Don’t be prancing around in a outfit like that.”

You gasped looking at him, “are you saying I deserve being gawked?”

He stared at your eyes as he spoke, “No- but what you want?”

Every time you try too make him flustered or react too your not so subtle flirts or plain mean seductive advances. Never acts upon them. But still you try anyways, the enjoyment of watching his vine pop out of his forehead or the fact he get’s all flustered it always boosted your mood too torment the grumpy chief of police.

Hopper knew he was in a losing battle, he other said something stupid and get in huge trouble or say nothing hav heave you torment him for the rest of the night. So instead he decided too once again ask what the favor was.

Before you could answer Phil peeked his head thru the door as he spoek, “sorry Chief- but it’s quitting time and we just wanted too say night. And merry Christmas”

Having only One officer on duty on Christmas Eve made sense it’s Hawkins. Nothing happens here. Minus the two missing kids. And the strange business with the Mall. But it was typical practice too have only one officer on Duty. And Since Hopper was the only one without a family he always volunteered too be the one who spends the night in the station. A few officers handed Hopper small gifts as they left and even said Merry Christmas too you as you waved weakly saying Merry Christmas as they all left.

Shifting your attention too Hopper your idea too torment Hopper disappeared with realizing he was now stuck here all night alone. While everyone is with their family.

You weren’t looking forward too returning home, with your dad and mOm fighting. And your younger siblings. Bickering. You walked over sitting down as he sighed realizing you weren’t leaving as fast as he hoped.

Looking at him you spoke, ‘what’s your plans for tomorrow?”

“drinking and hoping no one does anything stupid that they need help- what do you want Y/n?”

Staring at the chief you rested your elbows on the desk shaking your head- “Is there ever much trouble around here?” He chuckled softly shaking his head, “No-“

Nodding your head you pulled your hat off staring at the strange man. He was a strange creature, grumpy and missable and but deep down heart of gold.. you think- it’s not like he gives you much details about his life. But you pushed your hair back staring at Hopper.

He sighed resting in his seat stretching out realizing you weren’t leaving. Instead of fighting it he stared at you with crossed arms. “Don’t you have plans or something?” Hopper asked as you shook your head, “I told my family I wasn’t going too be home for another hour.”

“Why?”

You rolled your shoulders, ‘not much motivation too return too that mess.”

He chuckled softly as you stood up walking around the desk as you hop onto his desk staring at him. “Besides someone should stay with you for a while. So you don’t get lonely” he grinned weakly as he hit your leg softly he was caught off guard at how soft your leg is. He tapped his finger on your leg as he spoke, “it’s Christmas you should be with family.”

“Don’t be so dramatic it’s Christmas Eve- and my family isn’t doing anything- they be in bed by the time I get home anyways. You tired of my company already?”

The question was simple. So simple that you werne’t expecting much of a response. Probably one of his favorite one liners making you leave. But he surprised you with grabbing your leg. Placing your foot onto his lap. Seeing your heel pressing softly onto his leg as he spoke, “Aren’t your feet sore?”

He asked as he slowly caressed your leg a few times before catching himself and stopping as you spoke, “Okay- you got me there..t hey are begging too get out of these awful heels.” He chuckled as he reached down unclasping your heel strap as he pulled off your heel before grabbing your other foot and freeing it from the painful heels.

“why you take that job?”

Rolliing your shoulders, “it was that or the Gap.. and they didn’t call me back.” He chuckled as you chuckled, “the library job is opening up soon o it’s was just temporary”

Your feet rested on his lap as he reached up and rubbed your feet. Which felt like heaven! After being on your feet for ten hours.

“so what do you normally do when you’re here alone?”

Hopper rolled is shoulders at that question as he spoke, “depends on the day.”

“Oh?”

He squeezed your foot slightly hard as you groaned softly at he pressure as he spoke, “Depends if you show up or not.” You chuckled hearing that as you asked the next obvious question.

“and if I do appear?”

He grinned as he spoke, ‘I think about all the tricks and stunts you pull trying too make me fluster.”

You grinn looking at him as you spoke, “and what do you do while you think about all the things you think I’m doing?” He chuckled as he looks up at you, “I think of things I would do.”

That caught you by surprise as you nudged him softly with your foot hitting his chest. “Oh? And what do you think about?”

He grinned as he spoke “things that would make you blush.’ You chuckled softly as you went too move your foot from his chest as he grabbed your leg as he spoke, “maybe you should go Y/N/“

Shaking your head softly as you spoke “there is No place I would rather be.’ He grinned weakly freeing your leg putting it back on his lap as you shifted closer as you lean forward resting your elbows on your legs as you lead your head rest on your hands.

He reached up fast cupping your face as he pulled you into a deep kiss as he spoke, “you sure?”

“I’m positive Chief”

He pushed back softly holding your sides softly “what was that favor?”

Chuckling softly completely forgetting why you came too the station in the first place.

“Oh I was going too ask too use your phone so I could call saying I’m going too be late.. the roads are awful tonight.” He chuckled softly as you pulled him closer too you too give you another kiss.

[irrelevantwriter]

Spellbound

Pairing: Chief Jim Hopper x Witch!Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluids, dick Hopper (bc I don’t want him any other way)

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: You’re the new resident in Hawkins. But Chief Jim Hopper senses something isn’t quite right with you and he’s dead set on figuring out what that is.

A/N: In honor of spooky season, I wrote this completely necessary Jim Hopper x Witch piece. It was intended to be something completely different, but I can’t hide my true self so it turned out smutty and slightly twisted. I hope you guys enjoy and share with your friends!

P.S.

I know I have some requests to fulfill and I am actively working on them! I was in a bit of a rut, but hopefully this will end that. Thanks for being so patient.

*Masterlist in bio.

**********************

Your deep purple nails clung to the black sheet beneath you, your body contorting in ways that should be impossible. Fire rushed through your veins while sweat dampened your skin. Your cries echoed off the walls and while it might appear that you were in the most debilitating pain of your life, you were actually experiencing pleasure beyond your wildest dreams.

A man was ravaging your neck while his heavy body pinned you to the bed. His bearded face burned your skin, but you yearned for more. His meaty hands gripped your body in animalistic hunger, a thin string of control barely present. His deep voice sent shivers down your spine as he growled and cursed in desire and exertion.

Your eyes were screwed shut against the deep, penetrating thrusts of his hips up into yours. His movements were erratic, touching you with both gentle passion and wild abandon. You craved more.

You were sure your deep red lipstick was smeared against your cheek, the residue already showing itself in his facial hair. His hair was tousled, his own flesh reddened and glistening from your activities.

The man was a special one. He wasn’t just any townie. He was the Chief of Police. And he was under your spell. Literally.

Jim Hopper hadn’t liked you from the moment he spotted you. You were new in Hawkins and had just purchased a storefront right off Main Street. You sold homemade lotions, oils, and candles. Products that were advertised as harmlessly holistic. But somehow Chief Hopper knew better.

He’d come snooping around your shop, eyeing your products with a mixture of curiosity and distaste. He’d asked you questions about your life, prodding like the law man he was. You’d obliged him. Being overtly accommodating and sweet to throw him off.

It hadn’t worked.

He was suspicious and you had to keep just as much of a close eye on Chief Hopper as he did on you.

Which is exactly what led to him fucking your brains out on Halloween night.

You’d known he’d come sniffing around your place tonight. He was probably going off the stereotypical ideas he had of witches. A chilly Halloween night complete with cat sacrifices and bubbling cauldrons. He was somewhat right.

Because of your unique senses, you’d been anticipating his knock at the door. You’d answered, no longer playing the innocent card. You didn’t bother to tighten the sash of your black robe, instead choosing to let it fall open slightly. The hint of cleavage would add to your favor.

He’d walked in adorned in fill uniform, all hulking frame and thick limbs, studying your home with careful interest. He made an excuse about wanting to check in on a single woman living alone.

It was bullshit.

The man was nosey. And attracted to you. You’d picked that up from the start. And it wasn’t one sided.

Part of your appeal as a witch was your mystical aura and blatant attractiveness. It’s what kept the men coming. Town after town. Always a lost man who found you irresistible and the answer to all his problems. And Chief Hopper was no different.

You’d made him a cup of coffee. Laced with your own herbal blend of course. And you waited.

It didn’t take long.

He was shoving you against the wall and devouring his mouth with yours before you could ask if he wanted another cup.

He’d tasted like cigarettes and caffeine. He smelled like faded cologne and the autumn air. It was hypnotic.

Clothes were shed quickly, the urgency and clear need apparent. You were wrapped up into his arms, his lips tasting your bare breasts as you directed him to your bed of satin and velvet.

He’d thrown you down and barely gave you a chance to breathe before he was burying is tongue deep inside you, pulling your nectar straight from you as if you were the juiciest peach. Your fingers pulled at his roots, urging him to take you to that point but begging for mercy.

You found that Chief Hopper wasn’t a merciful man.

He punished you with his mouth, adding his fingers as an extra device of torture. He forced your first orgasm from you, his manic eyes taking in all your convulsions and shivers with pride.

You’d felt him climb on top of you, not giving you a choice in the matter. He split your legs open and took you for his own pleasure.

Your teeth bit down on his shoulder as he thrust hard and deep. His brow was furrowed, almost as if he was angry. You liked it. You liked it far more than you cared to admit.

“Fucking hell,” He cursed as you moved beneath him, squeezing his thick cock with your walls. Every thrust made him scrape deliciously against you, the friction exactly what you needed to crest again.

“Again. Do it again.” He commanded against your neck. You obliged, eager to feel him release inside of you.

Feeling the cum of a man under a spell was an other-worldly experience. The sensation of him filling your insides was an alternate universe of orgasmic pleasure. It was euphoric. Addictive. It was your drug of choice.

“Son of a bitch.” He rasped as he slammed against you one last time, his whole body tensing.

You used his body to rub against your clit, letting his vibrations aid you. You came with a gasp, nails digging into his back as you both took from the other.

The Chief collapsed next you, his absence making your body feel unnaturally empty. You could feel him leaking from your swollen lips, your thighs sliding together obnoxiously.

You felt his stare on you, but you were waiting for the inevitable heavy slumber that came with your concoction. Most of the men passed out and slept off the remainder of the spell. That was usually when you stole from them. A little here and there so they never noticed.

But Chief Hopper kept staring at you, a self-satisfied smirk adorning his lips. You turned to face him, enjoying the way his male gaze faltered and landed on your breasts.

“Something to say?” You asked, voice a lot more hoarse than you expected.

“You make a great cup of coffee, you know that.”

His statement was odd and it made you pause. His smirk stayed plastered to his face. It was almost eerie.

“So I’ve been told.” You replied, playing along.

He shifted up so that he was leaned against your headboard, his chest firm yet soft. You found yourself wanting to lay your head there, listen to his heartbeat.

“There’s a little something different about it though. I can’t put my finger on it.”

He snapped his fingers suddenly and you jolted, caught off guard by his jovial mood. The man was nothing if not a grump.

“It’s the blend right? A spice?”

“Why the sudden interest in my coffee making skills, Chief?” You shifted so that you mirrored his position, your sheet pulled up to protect you from the sudden chill in the air.

“I just like to know what’s in my coffee when people drug it. Call me old-fashioned.” He quipped, rubbing at his graying scruff. His demeanor was strangely calm for a man who just claimed he was drugged.

“And why would you think I did such a thing?”

He laughed, though there was no humor behind it. “I’m a cop, sweetheart. I don’t just accept shit from people I don’t trust.”

You nodded, appearing to agree with his statement.

“Valid point. But I didn’t.”

He startled you when he pounced and pinned you to your back, the sheet ripped from your body. His hands gripped yours above your head, a twisted grin on his face.

“You did. I saw you.” He ducked into your neck, breathing in your scent as he spoke. “And I switched our cups.”

Your eyes widened at his admission, struggling against his hands. You met his eyes and could tell he spoke the truth. Smug bastard.

“I’m guessing my hunch was right by your reaction then.” He leaned into your body, pressing his now hard cock against your thigh. “You use your magic wand and put a spell on it, sweetheart?” He provoked, his tone condescending.

“Prick.” You cursed, your body betraying you and responding to his movements.

You felt your eyelids start to get heavy, the endorphins and adrenaline now washing away to reveal the true nature of your spell. You weren’t worried per say, but you also weren’t sure what his exact motives were.

You moaned as a calloused finger danced around a pebbled nipple, his greedy mouth reaching down to suck harshly at the appendage. You writhed beneath him, trying to stay alert but feeling your mind starting to slip into unconsciousness.

You felt like you were floating and the last image you saw was Jim Hopper’s face as he spoke to you.

“You get some beauty sleep and I’ll be here when you wake up, sweetheart. We’ve got some more business to tend to.” He caressed your face softly, but you could tell even in your drowsy state that he was not going to be gentle once you woke.

You couldn’t wait.

[jonny-byerss]

All Words Muttered By Jonathan Byers In Stranger Things

Season 1

S1: E1 The Vanishing of Will Byers

-Check the couch!

-Yeah, see you later.

-Oh, I didn’t get him up yet. He’s probably still sleeping.

-Mom, I’m making breakfast!

-He’s not in his room?

-I don’t know

-No. I got home late. I was working.

-Eric asked if I could cover. I said yeah. I just thought we could use the extra cash.

-I know! I know!

-Mom, it’s not a big deal. Look, he was at the Wheelers’ all day. I’m sure he just stayed over.

-Will? Will? Will? Will? Will!

-Mom. You have to stay calm.

-Mom? Cops.

-If you found the bike out there, why are you here?

-Yeah.

-Nothing.

-No.

-It’s just...I should’ve been there for him.

-Yeah.

-Dad?

-It’s Will?

-Mom, it’s Will?

-What? What?

-Hello? Hello, who is this?

-Hello? Who is this?

-Mom, who was it? Who was it, Mom?

-Look at me, Mom. Was it Will?

-What did he say?

-And was someone else there?

-Mom, who was there? Who was it?

S1: E2 The Weirdo On Maple Street

-Alright, Mom. Breakfast is ready.

-Yeah. Okay. Alright. I just need you to eat, Mom.

-Yeah. No, I told you. I got it.

-Okay.

-Yeah, okay.

-Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom! Mom!

-You can’t get like this, okay?

-No, it’s okay.

-Can we, like, trace who made the call? Contact the-

-Who would do that?

-Hey, Hopper. Hopper. Let me go.

-To Lonnie’s.

-You know, if Will’s there, it means he ran away. And if he sees the cops, he’ll think he’s in trouble. He’ll...he’ll hide. You know, he’s good at hiding.

-Oh, hey.

-Yeah.

-Yeah.

-Thanks.

-You like it?

-Alright, you can keep the mix if you want.

-Yeah, really. All the best stuff’s on there. Joy Division, Bowie, Television, The Smith’s...it’ll totally change your life.

-Do you even like baseball?

-Come on. Has he ever done anything with you that you actually like? You know, like the arcade or something?

-No, alright? He hasn’t. He’s trying to force you to like normal things, and you shouldn’t like things because people tell you you’re supposed to. Okay? Especially not him.

-But you like The Clash? For real?

-Hello?

-Yeah, is Lonnie around?

-To look around.

-I’ll be fast.

-Hey, Will? Will! Will, you here? Will!

-Get off!

-Get off me, man.

-Then why didn’t you call Mom back?

-This isn’t some joke, alright? There are search parties, reporters...

-I know you don’t.

-In case you forgot what he looks like.

S1: E3 Holly, Jolly

-Mom?

-Mom, what is this?

-What’s going on?

-He’s trying to talk to you?

-Mom-

-It’s the electricity, Mom. It’s acting up. It’s the same thing that fried the phone.

-What? What about the wall?

-Mom, first the lights, then the wall?

-No, Mom.

-No, Mom. You don’t need more lamps. You need to stop this, okay? He is just lost. People are looking for him, and they’re going to find him.

-This isn’t helping.

-Can you do me a favor, Mom? Can you just try and get some sleep?

-Huh? Can you do that for me?

-Yeah?

-Yeah.

-Alright. I’ll go make breakfast.

-Yeah?

-Oh, hey.

-What’s going on?

-I don’t know what you’re talking about.

-Hey! Please, give me my bag. No, just...

-I was looking for my brother.

-No, please, not the camera.

-Mom?

-Mom, what happened?

-It’s okay. Hey.

S1: E4 The Body

-Mom, come on, please. You’ve gotta stop this.

-Mom! Wake up.

-It’s almost 8. We have to go.

-To see Will.

-I don’t know.

-Since the first phone call, I guess.

-You know, she’s had anxiety problems...in the past. But this...I don’t know. I’m worried it could be...ugh, I don’t know. She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. My mom...she’s tough.

-Mom!

-Mom, will you get in?

-Mom, will you just get in, please?

-Mom. Mom! Mom! Stop.

-No, this is not an okay time for you to shut down.

-We have to deal with this, Mom! We have to deal with the funeral.

-Okay, let me get this straight. Will, that’s not his body because he’s in the lights, right? And there’s a monster in the wall? Do you even hear yourself?

-Yeah.

-Yeah, well, while you’re talking to the lights, the rest of us are having a funeral for Will! I’m not letting him sit in that freezer another day!

-Show’s over.

-What?

-Can you just give me a second?

-Hey...

-It looks like it could be some kind of perspective distortion, but I wasn’t using the wide angle. I don’t know. It’s weird.

-No. And she was there one second and then, um...gone. I figured she bolted.

-What’d he look like?

-This man you saw in the woods. What’d he look like?

-Didn’t have a face?

-Brightening. Enlarging.

-No, just that it came out of the wall.

-Not long.

-What?

-Yeah. I guess I’d rather observe people than, you know...

-I know. It’s weird.

-No, it is. It’s just, sometimes...people don’t really say what they’re really thinking, but you capture the right moment...it says more.

-What?

-I shouldn’t have taken that. I’m, uh...I’m sorry. It’s just-

-My mom...I thought she was crazy ‘cause she said...that’s not Will’s body. That he’s alive.

-Then Barbara.

S1: E5 The Flea and the Acrobat

-What’s going on?

-What happened?

-Mom...that thing you saw before, did it come back?

-Can we talk? Alone?

-You need to leave.

-Yeah. Well, you being here, you’re just making things worse, like always.

-Yeah.

-Yeah. Maybe he was.

-Thank God you’re here.

-This is where we know for sure it’s been, right?

-Steve’s house. And that’s the woods where they found Will’s bike and...that’s my house.

-Yeah. Exactly. I mean, it’s all within a mile or something. Whatever this thing is, it’s...it’s not traveling far.

-We might not find anything.

-We kill it.

-Just give me a second.

-What? You wanna find this thing and take another photo? Yell at it?

-Yeah, well, it’s the best we’ve got. What? You can tell someone, but they’re not gonna believe you. You know that.

-She’s been through enough.

-Yeah, and I’ll tell her...when this thing is dead.

-No, actually, you see the spaces in between the cans? I’m aiming for those.

-You ever shot a gun before?

-Yeah, I haven’t shot one since I was ten. My dad took me hunting on my birthday. Made me kill a rabbit.

-Yeah. I guess he thought it would make me into more of a man or something. I cried for a week.

-What? I’m a fan of Thumper.

-Yeah. I guess he and my mother loved each other at some point, but...I wasn’t around for that part.

-Um, yeah. Just, uh, point and shoot.

-They must’ve married for some reason?

-Screw that.

-What?

-Oh, uh...I don’t know. My guess...I saw this girl, you know, trying to be someone else, but for that moment...it was like you were alone, or you thought you were, and, you know, you could just be yourself.

-What?

-You know what? Forget it. I just thought it was a good picture.

-Okay.

-Yeah, that’s one word for it.

-No, I...I never said that.

-Okay, alright. Does that mean I have to like him?

-Listen, don’t take it so personally, okay? I don’t like most people. He’s in the vast majority.

-Yeah?

-Well, I was just starting to think you were okay.

-I was thinking, “Nancy Wheeler, she’s not just another suburban girl who thinks she’s rebelling by doing exactly what every other suburban girl does...until that phase passes and they marry some boring, one-time jock, who now works sales, and they live out a perfectly boring little life at the end of a cul-de-sac, exactly like their parents, who they thought were so depressing, but now, hey, they get it.”

-What? Are you tired?

-What?

-I’ll do it.

-I’m not nine anymore.

-I don’t know. Do you see anymore blood?

-Nancy! Nancy? Nancy? Nancy, where are you? Nancy!

S1: E6 The Monster

-Nancy! Nancy! Come on, come on. Nancy! Where are you?

-Nancy! Nancy! Come on! Nancy!

-I’m right here! I’m right here! Nancy! Just follow my voice!

-Follow my voice! Nancy, I’m right here! Nancy?

-Nancy! Nancy? Nancy. Nancy! Follow my voice! Nancy?

-Nancy!

-I got you.

-Better?

-Is this okay? Uh, I found it in the closet. I can go home, I just figured-

-No, uh...no.

-Yeah.

-Do you want the lights off, or-

-Yeah.

-You know, it...it can’t get us in here.

-Oh...hey...

-Couldn’t sleep?

-Hey, my mom said she talked to Will. If he’s alive, there’s a chance Barbara is too.

-You wanna go back out there?

-Right.

-It was bleeding too.

-So, you’re saying it can detect blood?

-We could test it. But if it works...

-Your mom doesn’t knock?

-And I’ll have four boxes of the .38s.

-“Monster hunting”?

-You’re shopping for bear traps with Jonathan Byers.

-What’s the weirdest part? Me or the bear trap?

-What the hell was that?

-What? What? Hey! Where are you going? Nancy, wait!

-Nancy!

-Jesus.

-Wait!

-Come on, Nancy, lets just leave.

-Thanks.

-Everything okay?

S1: E7 The Bathtub

-I’m fine.

-Why are you going through my car?

-You won’t believe me.

-We don’t know.

-I’m sorry, Mom.

-I know.

-I wanted to tell you, I just-

-I thought I could save Will...I still do.

-I know.

-I know.

-I might.

-I don’t know where he is, but I think I know how to ask him.

-Yeah.

-Hey, wait, it’s not gonna snow next week, is it?

-Even if we find Will in there...what are we gonna do about that thing?

-He’s my brother.

-Yeah, he used to go there to hide.

-No. No, Mom, I can help.

-Please be careful.

-What?

-You still wanna try it out?

To be continued...

[likedovesinthewnd]

Happy Drinking with Hopper- Chief Jim Hopper Imagine (NSFW)

Hopper x You/Reader

Summary: After a grueling work week, you and Hopper decide to blow off some steam at your local dive bar.

Warning: NSFW smut alert, semi-public grimy bar sex, drinking, Hopper’s filthy mouth.

A/N: Thanks @letsby for such a super fun request. The second I got it, I lit up with ideas. It was a blast to write. Hope you love it 😉 FEEDBACK is gold and feeds my muse so let me know if you liked it. Thanks!

Word Count: 1,900

“You should slow down there, sweetheart,” Hopper warned you from where you both sat at the bar, already a few stiff drinks in. It had been his idea to go out drinking, both of you desperately needing a happy distraction. Between the endless calls at the station and the steady stream of sick patients, drinking away the stress of the hellish work week was a no-brainer. Well, mostly. You favored other forms of release to alcohol, but it was his pick and the night was still young. Hopper watched as you smirked defiantly at him. Your face was basked in a red neon glow as you drained your glass, swallowing the smooth amber liquid in one heaping gulp. You hummed along to the blues playing on the jukebox, loving how it lent to the overall environment of the gritty dive bar. Contemplatively closing your eyes, you savored the bitter aftertaste on your lips. You welcomed the familiar warmth as it washed over you, relaxing your tired muscles and quieting your busy mind. He rolled his eyes, taking a hearty sip of his own drink. “Well, now you’re just being a brat.” “What? I was thirsty,” you lilted, innocently batting your lashes at him. “Brat,” he playfully mumbled under his breath, gifting you that sexy grin, the one he knew always drove you wild. Willingly taking the bait, you scoot your seat closer to his, instantly feeling the warmth radiating from his body. That big, broad body that you loved sleeping next to every night. Big strong arms wrapped tight around you, keeping you safe and warm. Big long legs, perfect for straddling and ridding his big- oh my. That had to be the liquor talking, but then again the theme of the night was stress relief, you cheekily thought to yourself. Hopper tapped his fingers on the bar’s worn surface to the beat of the sultry music. Your pensive expressions mimicked one another’s as you were both lost in your own train of thought. “What are you thinking ‘bout over there?” Hopper asked, suddenly taking an interest in your quiet musing. Hoping to lure him in with your own drunken bait, you leaned in a little closer to speak. “I’m thinking that if you buy me another drink, I’ll let you take me home tonight.” Sealing the offer with a flirty wink as you discreetly draped your leg over his lap from under the bar. “You do realize we live together don’t you?” “Hopper! You’re ruining the fantasy.” “Fantasy? Baby, what are you talking about?” You took your leg back and crossed your arms. His oblivious response had only annoyed you more. Weren’t cops supposed to be good at figuring things out? “Ugh, forget it. You’re no fun. I’m going to the ladies room,” you scoffed in a tone that was equal parts irritated and disappointed. You managed to climb down the tall barstool without falling and walked away, leaving behind a very confused Hopper. As he sat at the bar swirling his glass of whiskey, he watched you strut down the dimly lit hallway that lead to the bathrooms. His eyes were fixed on your body, mesmerized by the rhythmic sway of your hips with every step you took. Then, right as you pushed the door open, you shot him a glance that made time stand still. He began to perspire, his forehead beading in a layer of cool sweat like the glass in his hands. The sudden realization of your intentions hit him square in the face. You’d been coming on to him all night, clever little minx. He knocked back his drink, whipping away any rogue droplets with the back of his hand, and strode down the hallway with intentions of his own. You looked over your worn appearance in the mirrors reflection from the dingy bathroom. The steady tempo of muffled music echoed through the room as you secured your untamed hair into bun. You weren’t belligerently drunk but you were well past buzzed, finding yourself in the blissful purgatory between the two. It was your happy drunk zone. The one that made dancing and karaoke possible. It was also the one that made your body crave the affections of a certain rugged Chief of police. As you absentmindedly rummaged through your purse for who knows what, the bathroom door harshly swung open. The loud bang startled you back into reality, making you turn your head toward the direction of the sound. Leaning against the uneven doorframe, and looking all too cocky, was none other than Hopper. “What the hell, Hop! You can’t be in here!” He didn’t respond verbally, only staring back at you with an almost sinister hunger in his eyes. You opened your mouth to speak but couldn’t will the words to come out. Not with the wolffish way he was looking at you, making you feel like you were his next meal. You felt the thrill of fear and anticipation overtaking your senses, clouding your better judgment. He stepped into the bathroom in one dominant stride, letting the door swing closed behind him. He began approaching you, more aggressively than you’d expected, herding you like prey until he’d strategically cornered you into to farthest stall in the room. Your exposed back hit the chilly wall, jarring your senses and nerves. He hovered over you, standing more than a foot taller that your petite frame. His encroaching proximity had you panting for air. Your flushed chest heaving with every breath, brushing against the worn-in fabric of his flannel shirt. His rough hands gripped your waist, hoisting you up without warning and pinning you hard against the wall. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his middle, the hem of your dress hiking up your thighs and bunching at your hips. The intoxicating cocktail of fear and excitement coursed through your veins like liquid fire. The risk of getting caught alone sent your pulse bounding. “Now, I’m gonna need you to be real quiet for me, sweetheart. Otherwise we’ll both get caught. Understand?” His deep bourbon voice was smooth like the liquor you’d been drinking all night, holding you under the same hypnotic spell. You swallowed thickly and nodded in response, not trusting yourself to speak. “Good girl,” the smug bastard praised, loving the effect he had on you. His hands trailed up your thighs, stopping to roughly knead the supple flesh of your ass. “I bet you’re already soaking wet for me, aren’t you baby?” You whimpered and grasped onto his shoulders, feeling his fingertips graze over your lace-covered cunt. He wasn’t wrong. You were completely turned on, painfully so. It didn’t take much with Hopper, he knew exactly what you liked and exploited that knowledge every chance he got. A shit-eating grin fell over his face when his fingers found your panties dripping with your arousal, satisfied that you were ready for him. There was no time for foreplay or romance in the cramped dirty space you were in. You weren’t even sure you’d want it even if there were. This was going to be fast, rough, and nasty. With no time to waste, Hopper crashed his mouth over yours in a frantic and hungry kiss that had you holding on to him for dear life. He unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down just far enough to pull out his throbbing cock. It all happened so fast, both of you eager to cut the palpable tension and get to fucking each other’s brains out. He yanked your panties to the side and pushed into you in a single thrust so hard it nearly knocked the wind out of you. His thrusts were merciless, making your entire body bounce violently up and down. The flimsy straps of your dress had fallen off, your breasts springing free and into Hoppers mouth in record time. You reached your arms up over your head to brace yourself on the top of the stall, failing to keep your screams and moans to a minimum. Getting discovered was the furthest thing on Hopper’s mind at that point, with his cock buried deep in your sweet pussy. He figured anyone dumb enough to come in had it coming and would frankly be lucky to ever witness such a sight. The sinful cacophony of sounds coming out of your mouths filled the stuffy room and echoed off the walls. You met his hips with every relentless decent of yours, grinding your clit against him over and over until you felt your body tensing up in his arms. He knew you were close, feeling your pussy clenching around him in a vice-like grip that almost made him blow his own own load. “Shit, Hopper I’m gonna come,” you cried out, feeling him shift the angle of his hips so he hit that sweet spot of yours, sending you falling over the edge. You inhaled sharply, your arms dropping to his shoulders and your head falling back in pure ecstasy as you rode out your climax. “Fuck, baby. That was so hot. You’re so fucking beautiful,” Hopper’s strained praises were barely audible, your ringing ears making him sound like he was under water. “Come for me, Hopper,” you repeated to him in a whispered chant as his thrusts became more erratic. Not more than three pumps later, he came hard inside of you. His thick neck tensing as he held you firmly against the wall, nearly crushing you with his weight. He rested his head in the crook of your neck, kissing and nuzzling you softly to see if you were still alive. You melted into his touch. Exhaustion and the stellar orgasm he’d given you making your limbs feel weak and heavy. He pulled out and slowly lowered you back down to the ground. It took you a minute to find your bearings, your legs wobbling like a baby deer taking its first steps. “You alright there?” Hopper watched you, chuckling at your expense as he tucked himself back into his pants. “Just peachy,” you smiled at him, your eyes half-mast, face flushed, and hair wild. He walked over to you, endeared by your dazed laziness, helping you smooth out your dress and tame your hair before stepping back out into the bar. “Thanks, baby.” You leaned in and kissed him tenderly on the lips, grateful that he was just as sweet as he could be rough. You walked out of the bathroom hand in hand, both of you looking a wreck despite your best attempts not to. Hopper slapped a crumpled stack of bills on the bar, passively signaling to the bartender that you were leaving. The portly old man gave you guys a look somewhere between disgust and confusion as you walked out into the brisk night air. Hopper wrapped his arm around you, blocking you from the chill as you made your way over to his Blazer. You turned your head to get a good look at your big handsome man, finding him grinning triumphantly to himself. “What is it?” You giggled at his expression, wondering what he could possibly be thinking about. Hopper turned to face you, mischievously arching his brow before answering you. “Bet you’ll never say I’m no fun ever again, will you?” Tag List: @217fanfic @boogiewrites @madkskillz @jobean12-blog @letsby @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @blackleatherjacketz @krajcikmagic @writingkeepsmewhole @beltzboys2015-blog @happy-hopper @tellthemall-i-saidhi @hideloveaway @coffee-obsessed-writer @negans-wife @xlmonsterchildlx

[merlin-wolfgang-trades-hale]

Danny watched as the men with guns approached Steve while the building around them trembled and threatened to collapse. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t going to end well. He felt scared and worried....and something familiar down deep inside of him. Something he thought he lost long ago and hasn’t thought about in decades. He doesn’t have time to think and he acts on instinct. He holds out his hands and yells, hearing and feeling that buzz in his ears whenever he used to be able to use his powers. The men’s guns fly away from their arms, and they themselves are thrown in the opposite direction. As parts of the ceiling fell in, Danny’s anger increased and tapped into a force he hasn’t felt in too long. He’s shoving the pieces away from Steve, some of them actually shatter into smaller piece...almost into rumble...leaving Steve safe from harm. 

His ears are ringing and he’s on his knees now. His vision is blurred and he feels exhausted. 

“anny! Danny! Hey Danny!” 

Danny blinks and Steve’s above him, looking worried. Out of an old instinct he thought was forgotten, he wipes his nose...there’s blood. So it was back. He looked at Steve...part of him should be worried about Steve finding out but he’s too tired. 

He passes out. 

When he wakes up, he’s not in a hospital but on Steve’s couch. He tried to get up but Steve’s pushing him down. “Whoa...whoa...hey, none of that. Lie still.”

“‘m fine...” Danny muttered as he tried to get up again, but Steve kept him down. 

“No. You’re not. You’ve been out for two days, Danny! I...I had to call in favors to keep you out of the hospital while worrying if it was the right decision because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing!” 

“Steve, bud...calm down. You’re kinda panicking here.” 

“Am I? I haven’t noticed! Danny, you...you killed those men with your mind! You stopped the ceiling from crushing me...with your mind! And then you were bleeding from your nose! And then you wouldn’t wake up!” 

Danny takes a deep breath and then takes Steve’s hand in his. He reassures him that he is fine...he just hasn’t used his powers in a long time. He tells Steve he thought he lost them. 

Once Steve seems calm and reassured that he wasn’t in fact going crazy and that he hadn’t endangered Danny’s life by keeping him out of the hospital, Danny began to tell Steve about...his life. His real life. 

He shows Steve his arm with the tattoo of 010. He tells him that he was a twin. He had a sister named Jane and that his birth mother wasn’t Clara but she was the one who found him after he had escaped. He tells Steve the earliest memories he has about being an experiment and helping the government look for what he assumes were spies with his abilities...about Papa...he was kept away from the other children, but being a twin he kept a connection with his sister for a while...but it faded. When he saw his chance, he escaped and was a terrified but powerful kid...who came across a kind woman who saw him and brought him home...after realizing how special Danny was she and her husband did their best to protect him and eventually...it all became history. He got a new name...a new family...and along the way he used but lost his powers but they didn’t seem to matter as much. 

Steve believed him. And he was incredibly more protective of Danny afterward, especially around the government. Steve wasn’t sure about Danny’s powers. They were awesome yes, but the nose bleeding made him worry about brain damage and things like that. Danny himself didn’t want to become reliant on his power again but he couldn’t ignore them either. 

Which brings them to the present. During a kidnapping, he’d been blindfolded and the place they were keeping him was near the ocean, which served as white noise. He managed to tap into his powers and he saw how Steve was worried about him...he tries to talk to him but his powers weren’t strong enough to make a connection yet. But he tried...he yelled and he told Steve where he was. 

In that dark void, where it was only him and Steve...suddenly there was someone else. 

“Ten?”

Danny turned and he was frozen for a moment. Then he replied as he got flashbacks, “Eleven...” 

The young woman looked around and then nodded to him with a determined look. “I’m coming.” 

Danny wasn’t sure why he knew to trust that...but he pointed at Steve, “Go to Steve. You can trust him.” 

She looked at Steve and nodded. Then it all faded away and Danny went back to reality. He wasn’t sure if it was real or if help was truly coming. But he didn’t spend that time peacefully. Memories he didn’t have before came bursting into the forefront. Memories of running away after an argument with Stella and finding his sisters in Chicago, going back to Hawking with Eleven and helping her and her family and friends with the creatures of the Upsidedown. Sticking around and being raised for a year with Jane and Hopper, bring a protective brother when it came to Mike...hanging out with Dustin and crushing on Steve Harrington cos of his pretty hair. The Russians...the Mind Flayer...being hunted and losing power with his sister...and after what happened to Hopper, going back to the Williams...A lot of pain...and then losing Billy Selway...it was too much and he repressed it. 

When he’s freed, Steve’s there...and he’s pulling him into a tight embrace. El is on the side waiting patiently for her turn. When they embrace...it’s too much for Danny and he passes out again. 

----

El stays a bit and she and Danny bond. They retell their life’s stories ...when El learns about Steve she smiled at Danny, “You and your thing for Steve’s...”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asked. 

“He used to have a huge crush on Steve Harrington when we were teens. He liked his hair...and his sailor costume.” El said with a smirk. 

“Sailor costume?” 

“He worked at Scoops, it was sailor themed and his hair was amazing okay?” Danny defended himself with a blush. 

Steve frowned and said, “Couldn’t have been that amazing. And I’m a real sailor.” 

“Your boyfriend is jealous. That’s cute.” 

“I am not!” Steve argued but pouted as he reached for Danny’s hand. “I bet he’s bald now anyway...”

“His hair is still great,” El told him honestly. 

“Hey, you may not have Harrington hair but you have something he doesn’t,” Danny told him. 

“What?” 

“Danny, duh,” El told him with an eye roll. Then told Danny, “He has Steve’s brain though...maybe it’s a Steve thing.” 

Danny chuckled. “Maybe. But I like my Steve better.” 

“Damn right you do.” Steve said as he pulled Danny close and held him protectively. “So you guys really took on the Russians?” 

“Yeah. We were bitchin’.” El said proudly.  || Lol, I couldn’t let it go. Something small||

[voidwaren]

Steve/Billy

I’m digging around for my old works so I can take something out of hiatus, and I located my ST prompt doc that is for this specific ask, sooo…

this is a snippet from the story I’m writing for this prompt, which I got FOREVER AGO I’M SO SORRY ANON. once I write the whole thing, I’ll make a whole new post for it, but lord knows when that’ll be.

one day I will totally finish this! it’s just getting really long and I’m the actual worst at figuring out how to end things. (also, I have no idea how to write Harringrove.) for now, here’s this:

Steve pushes covers he doesn’t recognize from his legs and scrapes his hair, stiff and wild with old hairspray, out of his face. His eyes roam the room, but he doesn’t recognize it at all. He doesn’t remember coming here, doesn’t remember lying down or falling asleep. Steve has no idea where he is.

Knowing what had come in the recent past, Steve tries his best not to panic.

The upside-down was closed now. Hopper’s weird kid, El, had closed it for good. There’s no way there was any involvement there.

Besides, even if it weren’t closed, for what reason besides a night of partying too hard would he wake up somewhere unknown with no memory of how he got there?

Yeah, it wouldn’t make sense. Something else must have happened, whatever it was. And that’s what Steve tells himself as he sits up.

A groan from his right pulls him back, and he dangers a cautious glance to where the noise had come from. To his great surprise, Max’s brother, that asshole Billy Hargrove, is on the floor on the opposite side of the bed, his arm curled around a girl Steve knows to be a few years younger than the both of them. Her shirt is missing, and she’s passed out cold, drooling into the carpet. Billy, however, no longer is, and Steve has lost his chance to escape the room unnoticed without even realizing it had been there in the first place.

“Harrington?” Billy’s voice scrapes out of his throat audibly, his eyes squinted from beneath blond hair stuck to his cheek by either dried beer, drool, or vomit. Steve didn’t want to know which. “The fuck are you doing here?”

“Question of the hour,” Steve replies drily, surprised to note his voice sounds just as rough. “Where are we?” Steve pulls at his shirt, which is stiff and dry, and wills himself not to sniff it to find out—augh, nope, too late. That’s not a good smell. Fuck, ew. Why did he do that?

Billy chokes on a gritty laugh. “Puked yourself?”

“Sweat and vodka, I think,” Steve mumbles, peeling the shirt off. He didn’t need it, and he didn’t want it, so he’d make do without.

He hears Billy struggle to his feet, the bed moving with his weight as he uses it for support. “Where the hell are we?” Billy asks.

“I just asked you that. You don’t know where we are?”

“Bitch, I’m the new kid in this neighborhood, I have an excuse to not know where the hell I end up. Why don’t you know where we are, Your Majesty?”

That’s a good point, Steve really should be better acquainted with the town’s haunts with how small it is and how in he is on the usual party scene, but Steve isn’t about to tell Billy that. He stands up instead, abandoning his shirt by his feet, and turns to face Billy. Billy looks down at the girl, still sound asleep on the floor, then hisses something soft under his breath that Steve doesn’t catch.

“What?” Steve asks him.

Billy’s eyes dart up and narrow. “None of your business, fucknuts. Where are we?”

“I don’t know,” Steve replies, looking around the room again. “I’ve never been in this bedroom before. Maybe it’s hers?” Steve nods his head in the girl’s direction. She doesn’t stir.

“I don’t know who she is.”

Steve wants to be surprised, but … no. No, he doesn’t. Billy’s a piece of shit, and, really, this is to be expected. Sleeping with a girl without knowing her name? Were all Californians such scumbags?

“Great,” Steve spits, throwing his hands up. “Just great.”

“Where are you going?” Billy challenges Steve when he starts walking from the room without another word. Steve can hear him maneuver badly around the bed, knocking some part of his body on the metal frame hard enough for a ping to hit the air and a curse to follow. Steve ignores it in favor of looking for a phone, and pads slowly down the unknown hallway until he hits a staircase.

No one else seems to be in the house, but Steve keeps his eyes roaming around as he descends the stairs. They open into a modest living room with a loveseat and a TV perched on a coffee table—normal enough for a house in Hawkins. What’s strange to Steve, however, is the pristine condition of the living room. No booze bottles, no food or broken objects—no evidence of a party whatsoever.

A hot crawling feeling starts up Steve’s neck with each step he takes closer to the end of the stairwell, growing from a pit of dread that nestled itself in his stomach. Everything looks normal enough, sure, but Steve knows from experience that things were rarely what they seemed, and that never meant anything good.

A clean house after a party supposedly so hard that Steve doesn’t even remember it? Alarm bells were screeching in his head, and it wasn’t just the massive hangover.

Steve stops at the base of the stairs and frowns, his cotton-filled mind churning around. He doesn’t get very far into the living room, though, before a muffled thumping echoes from directly behind him and distracts him completely. Too busy holding his throbbing head, he doesn’t find the time to move out of the way of the stairs before Billy barrels both into the scene and into Steve’s back. Steve doesn’t even have time to yelp before his feet are slipping and the ground calls him to visit.

“Whoa,” Billy says under his breath, and Steve feels a hot hand wrap around his bicep and right him before he could meet a carpety grave. He sways a little, but he doesn’t start to fall again, and Billy removes his hand. “The fuck did I tell you about planting your feet, Harrington? You ever listen to people who actually know what they’re talking about?”

“Only when they don’t sound like hot air from an ass,” Steve mumbles back, stumbling away from Billy. God, his head was going to explode.

Billy must hear the retort, because he snorts, but when Steve looks over at him after creating distance, Billy’s looking around the living room with a distinct unnerved feeling. His eyes flash back to Steve’s.

“You feelin’ what I’m feelin’?” Billy asks quietly, and Steve blinks back in surprise.

“You can feel that?” So it wasn’t just Steve’s hangover that made this place feel wrong. But, if it wasn’t, and Billy felt it too … what was it?

Billy looks away again, crossing his arms along his bare chest. “Somethin’ ain’t right.”

“The girl,” Steve says suddenly, remembering the girl sleeping on the floor with Billy. When Billy only looks at him with his eyebrows raised, Steve gestures upwards with both his hands. “The girl? The one you woke up with? This is probably her house.”

Billy nods in comprehension, then, without a word, turns and takes the steps two at a time in his ascent.

“I’ll look for a phone,” Steve calls, wincing when it makes his head throb. He doesn’t get a response. And, even though he searches the whole pristine living room and then the kitchen adjoined to it farther along, he doesn’t find a single phone hanging on the wall or sitting on a counter. It unnerves him far more than he wants it to.

“Hey, King Harrington,” Billy’s voice calls from upstairs, directing Steve’s attention away from a cabinet he’d started going through in one last desperate ditch effort to find something. “Get your pretty ass up here a sec.”

Steve glowers to himself, but complies and locates the stairs again to climb, a sarcastic reply at the ready for when he found Billy again. When he reaches the room he’d come from, though, he finds Billy standing by the bed looking spooked. Immediately, Steve’s heart drops, taking the sarcasm with it.

“What?” Steve asks, trying to keep calm. “What’s wrong? Is she dead?”

“Sure as hell hope not,” Billy replies. His eyes dart around the room, effectively scaring the shit out of Steve. If he was faking, he was a damn good actor. “She’s not here, Harrington,” Billy clarifies when Steve only stands there looking at him.

Steve shakes his head once in confused surprise. “Okay, so check the other rooms?”

“I did,” Billy pushes, in a “duh, idiot” sort of way. “Did you see her go downstairs?”

“I wasn’t near the staircase, I was looking for a phone.”

“Did you hear her?”

“No. No, I didn’t hear anything.”

Billy looks at Steve for a long moment—long enough that Steve starts to open his mouth to say something and get him to stop. But Billy beats him and asks, “What the hell is going on here? Is this some stupid prank? I swear, if you’re yanking my chain with those little shits, I’ll—”

“Whoa, whoa, easy on the threats, it isn’t me!”

Billy looks unconvinced. “Then what is going on?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says. And that was the worst part. He had no idea what was going on, and that never ended well.

[this-is-allison]

Hawkins Affair - Chapter 3

I’m not 100% sure how ass play got involved in this, but here we are. 

1, 2

Joyce freezes completely lost on what to do or say, “why don’t you go to the kitchen for a snack? I’ll be there in a minute,” she reaches over to kiss her sons cheek then pushes him in the direction of the door. He slowly makes his way out, stopping every few feet, looking back at his mother for encouragement. Will has never been good with strangers. Apparently unconscious ones were no different.

Once he’s gone she gets up to get dressed. She throws on jeans and a t-shirt, looking at Hopper sleeping soundly. Glancing at the clock she decides to let him be for now.

Joyce goes down the hallway to find Will standing there staring back at her. She picks him up, balancing his weight against her hip. “Morning, baby,” she kisses his cheek.

“Who in bed?” he plays with her loose hair.

“Mommy’s friend. He was visiting and didn’t feel good so he laid down.” she feels terrible for lying to him and worse for what comes next, “can you keep this a secret?” questioning, she looks at him hopefully.

“Okay, mommy.” he lays his head on her shoulder still a bit sleepy.

“Good. How about some lunch?” Wills head shoots up. She can tell it’s not because of the prospect of food. That could only mean one thing. Turning around she sees Hopper poking half his body into the hallway. Seeing he’s been caught he slowly makes his way towards them, casting apologetic eyes at Joyce the whole way.

“Hey, bud,” he smiles at Will. His warm tone causes Will to relax which Joyce has to choke back tears at.

Joyce tilts Will’s chin up to look at her, “Secret, remember? Mommy’s friend is leaving now.” She puts him in his booster seat at the table and places a Lunchables in front of him, kissing him on the head before leading Hopper to the door. The two don’t dare to speak until out of earshot.

“I’m sorry,” Hopper isn’t sure how she’s going to react to being caught by her youngest son.

“It’s not your fault. I’m just thankful it wasn’t Jonathan...or Lonnie.” she shivers at the thought, “we should probably cool off for a while though,” Will is so young he doesn’t understand, but it won’t be hard for Lonnie to figure out if he does say something. Her bogus excuse may have worked on her son, but her husband wouldn’t be fooled.  

“Joyce, I….” all he can see are images of Lonnie abusing Joyce with those damn cuffs, but he can’t tell her how he feels. Hell if he even knows. “I think you should divorce Lonnie.” That definitely wasn’t the right thing to say.

“That’s none of your business,” she crosses her arms protectively around herself.  

“You’ve made it my business,” he argues keeping his voice low.

“Yeah well you don’t get an opinion,” she holds open the door for him, “please go.”

“I can’t keep doing this, Joyce.” And with that he’s gone.

What she doesn’t realize is when Lonnie hurts her, it hurts him too.

The next few days go by without a hitch. Joyce honestly thinks Will has forgotten about Hopper so she starts to relax a little. They’re settling down to dinner one night when Will’s curiosity gets the better of him.  

“You friend come?” he asks from the table, tilting his head at his mother in wonder. He liked the man. He was nice. Not like his dad. His dad never paid any attention to him.

With her back towards him her eyes widen. She takes the pot of sauce off the stove, composing her face before turning around towards her family.

“No one’s coming, honey.” she puts the sauce on the table, watching Lonnie out of the corner of her eye.

“The man? I like him,” Joyce puts some pasta on Will’s plate successfully distracting him for the time being. Lonnie drops his fork onto his plate making a loud clattering noise.

“What man, Joyce?” Lonnie talks hard and slow, his grip tightening around his beer bottle.

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s talking about the repair man from the other day,” she shrugs as she sits down.

“You didn’t tell me anything was broken.” he snaps back. Jonathan listens to his parents as he eats.

“It was just a precaution. I thought something was wrong with the plumbing.” she lies.

“How much did it cost?” he rubs the bridge of his nose already stressed about money.

“Nothing. It was an old friend doing a favor.” His eyebrows raise at that, eyes widening.  

“Oh and what kind of favors did you give him in return?”

It takes everything in her not to launch herself at him, “you’re a bastard.” she says so softly only he can hear. She stands up, “boys finish dinner. Daddy will help you get ready for bed tonight.”

She goes to her room, pulling out clothes and makeup and gets to work. She doesn’t get the chance to do her makeup, or even her hair for that matter, very often so she settles on smokey eyes and loose curls. Something different.

It isn’t long before Lonnie comes barging in. His rage only intensifies when he sees her getting ready, “where the hell you goin’?”   

“Out,” she answers not looking up at him.

“The fuck ya are. The boys?”

“Well they’re half yours and I’m with them all the time while you’re gone. Besides, you have a few days off. I think you can manage one night with them alone.” She goes to walk past him to her closet, but he grabs her arm. Tight. “And who the fuck’r you meeting?” his accusatory eyes bore into her.

“Karen,” she snatches her arm away, “she’s been begging me to have a girl’s night for the longest time. She’ll be thrilled.”

“Are you fucking someone?” he finally asks.

She laughs as she looks through her clothes, “I’m not the one of us that needs to worry about that.” she doesn’t have any proof that Lonnie’s ever cheated, but she has enough suspicion to practically confirm it. She slips on an old dress from the back of her closet she’s rarely worn while she’s talking to him.

“You’re wearing that out with Karen? I don’t think so,” his eyes look her up and down disproving of the length and general tightness.

“Yeah well all our money goes towards bills, food, and your booze. I haven’t got to buy new nice clothes in a long time. I’ve had two children since then.” Let him find a way to argue with that. She’s not usually this fired up, but his comment at dinner had sent her over the edge. She steps into a pair of plain black pumps she thinks are from high school. Her feet were always small. Even when she was pregnant they only swole up a little, but had went right back to their original size afterwards. 

He goes to the closet, grabbing the first cardigan he sees, “put this on.” he demands. She stares him down for a minute before taking it. Not because she wants to, but because she knows he won’t let her leave if she doesn’t. And things will only get worse from there. She puts it on before grabbing her purse and brushing out past him. Joyce kisses each of the boys goodbye, Lonnie following her every move, before going to the door. “Don’t wait up.” she smirks at him before closes the door, separating them. She throws the cardigan on the porch swing. 

Hopper has been cooped up in his mom’s house ever since his tryst with Joyce. He can’t get a grip on his feelings. There’s so much hatred stemming from the past, but at the same time he wants to protect her. He may be fucking falling in love with her for all he knows. His head is a fucking mess. He’s almost out of Tunial, but doesn’t want to bother with the pharmacy or people in general. He decides he’ll be okay for a few more days. Going to the fridge he retrieves another beer. That’s about the only thing he’s stocked up on - the only contents of his fridge. Opening it he tosses the cap on the kitchen floor. His head is swimming under the cocktail of alcohol and pills, but he continues with the mixture. 

When he hears a noise outside the front door he swears his inebriated mind is playing tricks on him, but an unmistakable knock follows shortly after.

Normally he’d just ignore it until the person gets the message, but his curiosity gets the better of him. He makes his way to the door. Opening it he finds a barely recognizable Joyce on the other side. Her hair is in loose curls, her dress is tight, and she has makeup...on. He can’t remember the last time he’d seen her wearing makeup. If ever.

“What the hell is this?” His words come out harsher than he intends. The small smile she had been displaying instantly turns upside down.

“I, um… I don’t know what I’m doing here,” she shakes her head, starting to turn around.

“Wait. I’m sorry.” he rubs his beard at his knee jerk reaction to just her appearance alone, but to be fair she’d never shown up looking like this. As if his mind wasn’t in shambles as it is. She turns back so she’s fully facing him again, waiting for his next move.

“What’s wrong?” he needs to keep her at arm’s length until he can figure things out.

“What makes you think something’s wrong?”  

He sighs, “I don’t wanna play games,”

“Me either,” she slowly moves closer to him

“What are you doing here?”

Tilting her head up to maintain eye contact, “Lonnie is watching the boys for the night. I thought we could…” she nervously plays with the buttons on his flannel. He puts his hand on top of hers, stopping her.

“I told you that I’m done,”

“So what, you want me to up and leave my family just like that?” she crosses her arm underneath her chest. This pushes her cleavage even further out of her dress making it harder for than it already is for Jim to focus.

“What you have isn’t a family. Lonnie’s like a live-in deadbeat dad. And if you don’t think you deserve better you know those boys sure as hell do.” his eyes flicker back down to her protruding cleavage again before looking back up just as fast.

“Why do you care so much all of a sudden? You hate me, then you’re hate fucking me, and now you want me to leave my husband for you?” she tries to make sense of his actions.

“I never said that. And I hated what you did to me, but I never hated you. Could never.” he looks into her eyes trying to show her he loves her without having to say the words.

Not breaking eye contact she bites her lip, standing on her tiptoes, she pulls him down by the neck to kiss him. It’s soft before quickly turning frantic. Hopper picks her up, her short dress riding up her thighs to bunch at her waist. Moving his hands to her ass he’s met with bare skin. He groans realizing that she’s not wearing underwear. 

“Fuck,” he’s missed her, but he can’t vocalize that. Worried too much about what will happen if he does.  

“Please,” she rubs herself against his member still tucked in his jeans. He carries her to his room, kissing her the whole way, and throws her on the bed. He takes a minute to look down at her spread across his sheets.

“You are fucking unbelievable,” he throws his shirt and pants off keeping his eyes trained on her the entire time. She blushes not used to any form of a compliment.

Starting at her toes Jim kisses his way up her body. When he gets to her pussy he plants a light kiss against her clit before pushing her dress up and taking it all the way off. He takes note of the cuff marks from Lonnie and takes time to kiss around each wrist.

Not able to take it anymore Joyce pulls him down to crush her lips against him. She wraps her legs around his waist and grinds herself against him. Hopper pushes his boxers down and grabs her hips thrusting himself inside her, eliciting a loud moan from Joyce.

“Fuck you feel so good,” Hopper lets her get adjusted.

“Your cock is so big I’m never gonna get used to it,” Joyce begins riding him once she’s ready.

“S’will if we fuck more,” he smirks pulling her up with him so they’re in a sitting position, “Oh that’s the spot,” Joyce throws her head back moaning. Hopper takes the opportunity to push the cups of her bra out of the way and sucks on a nipple. He moves his finger down to swipe across her asshole. Joyce stops kissing him, eyes opening wide at this.

“And I thought your pussy was tight,” he whispers in her ear causing Joyce to shiver from anticipation. Hopper keeps fucking into her as he asks, “can I finger your ass?” Joyce nods nervously. She’s never experimented with her ass before, but she knows Hopper would never hurt her. On purpose at least. She hopes.

He sticks his middle finger in his mouth fully coating it with saliva before working it around her hole. He slips just the tip inside to start stretching her and she screams out at the slight pain mixing with pleasure. Once he moves the tip around a bit he slips his finger in little by little until it’s fully sated inside her ass, still pounding her pussy with his cock. Joyce screams out at the simultaneous feelings as her orgasm brings her to her peak. Hopper comes right after her. The feeling of her coming around his cock and finger too much to handle.

Regaining their breathing they slip under the covers, Joyce lays her head against Hoppers chest as he strokes her arm.

“Can I spend the night tonight?” she looks up at him.

“You can? Lonnie, the boys….”

“Karen’s covering for me,” she explains settling back against his side.

Hopper holds onto her for dear life. Not sure when he’ll be able to again.

Lonnie makes Jonathan bathe Will before he lets his oldest run off to his room. What Will had said earlier aroused suspicion about what his wife’s been up to and he intends to get answers. Even if they were from his four-year-old son. Grabbing another beer he heads to Will’s room for story time.

Will jumps into bed as soon as he sees his dad. He picks up a book, holding it out nervously, hoping Lonnie will read to him like his mother does.

Lonnie takes the book, “I was hoping you could tell daddy about mommy’s friend.”

“The big man?”

[cornycornflakes]

This is a short one shot about a scene I really hope to see in Stranger Things season 3. I love Jopper with all of my heart and I can't stop thinking about their relationship. Also this is my first Jopper fanfic so please be nice I tried my best!

Jopper in season 3. History, memories and love. Just two lonely and hurt people on the search for someone who understands their feelings and flaws.

READ IT ON AO3 HERE

____________________________________________

Lovers Lake

Where are we going?“, she asked for the hundreath time.

„It’s a surprise, just trust me!“, he mumbled under his breath.

All the way there Joyce was nervous and although she knew that nothing bad would happen, she couldn’t stop thinking about the worst possible scenario. But why? The kids were at the Wheeler’s 4th of July party and nothing bad has happened for the past couple of months. Well, at least nothing super natural. Losing her job is something different. Or the fact that Hopper almost got shot. Maybe for once in her life she should try to chill and forget about all the bad memories.

“I just want you to take some place nice, geez relax Joyce”

“I know, I’m just- I’m sorry, it’s really difficult for me”, she sighed and looked at him with her brown eyes which slowly started to tear up.

“You’re gonna like it”, with his response Hopper grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight. For once she felt a little bit safer next to him.

____________________________________________

“Aaaand… we’re here!”. They stepped out of the car into the dark, cold night. The trees were dancing to the wind, and so did her hair. Hopper noticed that Joyce was freezing and put his jacket on her shoulders. “This is too big for me!”, she laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound he has heard in a very long time. “I think it looks great on you!”, he responded and put his arm around Joyce. It was a small gesture, but it meant so much for both of them.

After Bob died, their relationship had a rough time. They never felt so close and distanced at the same time. Joyce tried to push him away as far as possible, until he noticed something was wrong. Then, one cold November night, her emotions exploded. She told him that it was his fault that Bob died. Obviously Joyce never meant to say that, but Hopper just pushed too hard on her. They didn’t even talk to each other for weeks and the kids got worried, since El and Will loved spending time together. It wasn’t until 3 days before the snowball when Hopper called her to ask for a “very important favor”. El needed a dress and some make-up, something a grown man had no idea of. She was almost like a daughter Joyce never had and she didn’t want to punish her just because of a fight between her and her adoptive father.

And it wasn’t until the snowball that they forgave each other. There wasn’t much talking, but the gestures said everything. Joyce needed a shoulder she could lean on in her difficult times and Hopper needed someone who could help him take care of a teenage girl. At that moment both realized how much they needed each other, no matter how screwed up the world may be.

The next moths passed by quickly and they were spending almost every day together. Hopper would drop of El and the kids would listen to music or watch all the Star Wars movies for the thousandth time, while the adult sat on the porch just talking with a cigarette and bottle of beer in their hands. Even in their high school times they weren’t so close.

And it wasn’t until their lives began to crush down once again Joyce noticed she loves him. It wasn’t just the fact that Melvald’s closed down and she lost her job, it was the fact that Hopper spent the rest of the day driving around the city searching for a new job for her while she was at home taking care of the kids and trying to get her life together. They spent that evening looking through applications at the Starcourt Mall. After hours and a dozen cubs of coffee Joyce fell asleep on Hoppers chest and he didn’t wake her up. Instead he covered her with a cozy blanket and stayed it the same position until he fell asleep too.

The other time she noticed she loves him was the day Hopper almost got shot. Actually Joyce didn’t even know he was deep into a political conspiracy theory, surrounding the new mayor of Hawkins. Somehow he always managed to get into trouble because of his stubbornness.

But when she found him in his car, which was covered in bullets, her heart almost stopped. She couldn’t lose the man she loved. Not again. Although he wasn’t hurt, she couldn’t stop thinking about what would have happened if he was. Joyce spent the rest of that day sitting next to him and not letting him out of sight. Even when Hopper had to go pick up El from the Wheeler’s, she went with him. Who knows what he would do? Last year he went into these “vine tunnels” without saying anything and almost got killed.

And at that moment Hopper realized he started to fall in love with her too. But did he ever stop? Joyce was always on his mind. It started back on the first day of middle school when she sat next to him and wore these cute ponytails. After they got into high school it was more than just a small crush. Those cigarettes under the stairs quickly turned into make out sessions and gossips.

But then there came Vietnam. Hopper had to leave Hawkins and Joyce. She waited 2 years for him, until he stopped responding to her letters. She met Lonnie, got pregnant and began a completely new life. He was heartbroken. Even the idea of Joyce being happy with another man drove him crazy. The same evening he went to New York and wanted to leave this hell of a town forever. Shortly after he met Diane, married her and had a daughter. Sara was perfect. But even then he couldn’t stop thinking: “what if?”.

In 1979 Hopper’s live fell apart once again. He lost his family and left his job at the NYPD. After finding out his mother in Hawkins got sick, he immediately moved back to take care of her. He found a job at the local police station and tried to act like nothing happened. But the people knew everything. The whole town gossiped about his tragedy and no matter where he went, someone always gave him a pity look.

Joyce was the only one who didn’t treat him differently. After his comeback her marriage started to fall apart too. Although she loved her boys, Lonnie was drunk and violent all the time. She tried to ignore it as long as he didn’t hurt any of their sons, until it happened. Joyce didn’t even hesitate to call the police. Hopper came very quickly and took care of the situation. After Joyce was alone and Lonnie was at the police station, he came back. He couldn’t just leave her alone since he knew in how much pain she was. Although it was awkward for both of them to be together in a room after so many years without any contact, they needed it. They really needed it. Even if it wasn’t talking, just sitting next to each other on an old, dirty sofa.

Afterwards they almost never talked to each other until Will went missing. Their lives suddenly changed forever with that event and they couldn’t talk to anyone about it except for the kids at each other. And well, it seemed like they finally had a topic to talk about which didn’t include their past and their marriages, no matter how crazy it was. It was almost like they met for the first time again.

And then there came Bob. He was a nice guy they knew for high school who always read his comic-books between the lessons and was passionate about technology. Now he worked at the Radio Shack and seemed to have a good life. Hopper didn’t even notice when Joyce started seeing him more often, until Bob finally invited her on a first date. He tried to hide his jealousy as much as possible. But why was he even jealous? They weren’t together and considering their rocky past Joyce deserved a guy with a “normal” life. Someone who didn’t carry around a baggage of problems and sorrow. But even then he wished that there would be a little bit more between them so they could share their baggage with someone who would actually understand them. But besides that he had to take care of a child. After El, or actually Jane, came into his life everything turned around. Hopper didn’t have time to think about women and relationships. He had a completely new responsibility.

But now he had the chance to work it out. Bob was gone and Joyce really needed someone who understands her imperfections. So Hopper decided to ask her out on a “nice night out” to a surprise place without telling her much and she said yes. They actually planned to go to the Wheeler’s 4th of July party, but both knew that the kids would be screaming around all the time and Karen would only complain about Ted while flushing down a whole bottle of red wine. So anything would be better than that.

He planned the evening for weeks for it to be perfect. Maybe it was his last chance to impress the one and only Joyce Byers. But no matter how much time he spent on preparing he couldn’t stop to think about the worst scenario. What if she doesn’t feel the way he does? What if she’s still not over Bob or just doesn’t search for a relationship? What if he messes up again? God, these thoughts couldn’t leave his head and with every single moment he got more nervous. But once he put his arm around Joyce and she came closer to him, it felt perfect. The smell of her coconut shampoo made him smile and he felt like the luckiest man alive.

Still having no idea where they were, Joyce grew more and more excited for Hopper’s surprise. She trusted him, so there was no need to feel scared. As they walked through the dark woods, a small meadow appeared in front of them. That was when Joyce finally found out where they were going.

“Hop, I- I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to.”

The Lovers Lake. The one place which meant the most for both of them. It was the place where they shared their first kiss, the place where he told her he was leaving for Vietnam and the place she kept on coming back to when she missed him. So much history and memories just at one location. And the best part about this surprise was that he remembered all of that. Joyce thought that only she associated Lovers Lake with their complicated, but amazing relationship. She was so, so wrong about that. After Hopper came back from New York he spent most of his weekends at the lake, just to reminisce about his first love. He wished so many times that Joyce would sit there next to him, holding his hand.

His wishes finally came true. As they watched the sun go down on the horizon of Lovers Lake, Joyce laid her head on his shoulder and grabbed him by the hand. Nothing could make this moment even better. Or could it?

“I love you”, Joyce whispered under her breath. Shit, was I too early considering it was their first date after years of nothing? Wait, was it even a date? She began panicking and she felt that he was nervous too. She didn’t plan on saying it, not yet, these words just rolled out of her mouth.

“I love you too”, he responded after a while. And he meant it. He wouldn’t just bring anyone to such a special place. Hopper waited so long for this day to come. Joyce, obviously astonished by his response, turned to him and looked deep into his blue eyes. She couldn’t believe it was happening. She stood up on her tip toes and kissed him like back in their teenage days. He immediately kissed her back and put his arms around her waist. Now for sure nothing else could make this evening for both of them more perfect than the fact that they were in each other’s hands, finally reuniting after so many years of pain and loneliness.

It’s called Lovers Lake for some reason after all.

[andwejust-ran]

I’m Your Man-Chapter 4

They’re all in this together. 

Late, from over sleeping, Hopper was on his way into the station when he got a trespassing call over his radio. He needed coffee, desperately, but settled for a cigarette instead as he headed towards the abandoned Lab.

With the cigarette still dangling from his lips, Hopper groaned as he pulled up to the gate and noticed Jonathan leaning against his parked car. “What the hell?” Forcefully, he put his truck into park and then cut the engine. Jonathan, clearly brooding, regarded him with indifference as Hopper moved towards him. “Is this really what kids your age do now?” Behind the rusting fence, the Lab loomed large. The landscape was overgrown and filled with litter. The grounds were no longer intimidating, but it still gave him the creeps. Bluntly, Hopper added, “Blow off school to hang at this shit hole?”  

Jonathan’s incredulous response followed. “It’s summer.”

Not one to admit to being wrong, Hopper merely shrugged. “Work then.” He glanced up and down at Jonathan’s business casual attire. Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

Instead of answering his question, Jonathan posed one of his own. “Did my mom call you?”

“No.” Hopper exhaled a puff of smoke before flicking the cigarette to the ground and crunching it under his brown boot. “Should she have?”

Jonathan shot him a sidelong glance before looking away. “Then what are you doing here?”

Slightly amused by the teenager’s bravado, Hopper let out a deep chuckle. “I’m working. He pointed to the large ‘Keep Out’ signs that were hanging on almost every tree. “And you’re trespassing. So, I’ll be the one asking all the questions.”

Jonathan crossed his arms. “You gonna arrest me?”

Hopper’s earlier amusement didn’t linger. His sympathy and understanding were wearing out as well. “You know how much paperwork that would be?”

“Isn’t that your job?”

The sarcastic remark sent him over the edge. “You know what kid? Maybe I will. Your attitude could use it.” Hopper was bluffing, but whether Jonathan knew that or not, he wasn’t sure.

“Arrest me, then,” the teenager bit out.

Hopper pursed his lips. Arresting anyone wasn’t on his agenda for the day. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion. After talking Joyce off the ledge the night before, he had been unable to get to sleep. “Kid, get going to wherever you need to be.” He motioned towards the Lab. “Nobody’s supposed to be out here. That’s the deal, remember?”

Shaking his head, Jonathan stood up straight and stepped away from his car so that he was closer to Hopper. “I just needed a quiet place to think.”

“Well, go think somewhere else.” Silence fell over them and when Jonathan made no indication that he was going to leave, Hopper grew annoyed. “What’s going on with you?” The question, laced with attitude, slipped out before he had thought it through. It wasn’t his place to get involved in the obvious issues that Joyce and Jonathan were having. He didn’t even want it to be his place. He had enough on his plate. But, he couldn’t sit back and watch Joyce’s family crumble. She deserved better than that.

“I know you’re mad at your mom, but stop disappearing on her.” His face crinkled into stern lines as his annoyance showed through. “You know what she went through with Will. You know how bad she got. Give her a break.”

As expected, Jonathan did not take kindly to being disciplined. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” Hopper squinted up at the cloudless sky and then pulled his sunglasses out of his pocket. “I spent an hour trying to calm her down last night when you didn’t come home. So, I think I do know.”

Jonathan crossed his arms and stepped into Hopper’s personal space. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.” He stood his ground, refusing to back down under Hopper’s intimidating stare. His voice grew louder, sending birds scampering out from the grass and into the sky. “You’ve got nothing to do with the baby, right? That’s what you said, isn’t it? So no, you don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t understand!” Yelling at Hopper felt foreign. He respected him, even liked him, but he had to take his fury out on someone.

Beneath his sunglasses, Hopper’s eyes were unreadable. His open mouth twitched slightly. Unsure what to do next, he turned towards his truck, but then changed his mind. His hand went to Jonathan’s shoulder and stayed there. “I understand. Believe me.” He didn’t give him a chance to interrupt. “This isn’t some picnic for me either, you know?” A more experienced father may not have been so open about their feelings. The openness, worked out in his favor.

Jonathan’s features softened at that. What Hopper said, and didn’t say, reverberated through mind and left an impression. Not for the first time, a silent understanding passed between them and the tension dissipated.

Words weren’t Hopper’s strong suit, but he didn’t have to try too hard with Jonathan. The teenager never expected him to be anything other than what he was and it was a relief. “Give your mom a break, that’s all I’m sayin’. She needs you.” He let go of Jonathan’s arm and turned towards his truck. Without turning back he said, “And stay the hell away from here.” Hopper waited until Jonathan walked to his car before opening the door to his own.

“Hey Hopper,” Jonathan called out. “She needs you too, you know.”

Hopper stared at him with an unreadable expression for several long seconds before acknowledging his statement with a swift nod and climbing into his truck.

***

        Several days went by without any panicked calls from Joyce or trespassing calls about Jonathan and Hopper was relieved. Things weren’t exactly back to normal in the Byers household, but it was a start.

“Jane, why isn’t the table set?” bellowed Hopper.

From across the room, with the phone dangling from her ear, she waved him off. “Almost done.”

Hopper sighed in annoyance and tapped at his watch. “It’s your job.” Refusing to let her run wild all summer, he had a list of chores waiting for her each day. It allowed him some semblance of control. Instead of responding, her conversation on the phone dropped to a hushed whisper. He pulled out a container of potato salad and plopped it loudly on the table, followed by a container of pasta salad. Joyce was missing their weekly dinner due to her work schedule, but she had insisted on sending the side dishes anyway. His growling stomach wasn’t about to complain. “Jane!”

“Okay!” she snapped back, then rushed to get off the phone.  “I’ll call you later, Mike.” She sent Hopper a glare when she came to collect the dishes for the table. “It’s an emergency.”

Doubtful, Hopper shook his head. “What’d we talk about? You know what a real emergency is.”

Jane set out three plates. It wasn’t hard to do with such a small table. Normally they would eat outside, but it had rained all day, leaving big globs of mud all over the wet grass. “Yes,” she insisted. “And it is, an emergency.”

“How so?” His eyes tracked hers as she placed forks next to the plates. Jane was always honest with him, and he was always honest with her. Friends don’t lie. That was their motto, and they had been sticking to it since the last series of supernatural events.

Jane didn’t hesitate. “Nancy and Jonathan are in a fight.”

Hopper immediately crossed his arms. With a groan, he scratched his beard. “How is that an emergency?” His hungry stomach growled with impatience. “Where the hell’s Will?” he grumbled. Will never missed dinner. Even when Joyce couldn’t come.

“Nancy’s crying. In her room.”

“Okay…”

“He’s not going to college. It’s an emergency.”

The space between his brows furrowed in confused. Teenage drama made his head spin. He used his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose, until her words sank in. “Woah, woah,  wait. Who’s not going to college?”

Jane sat down. Her features were serious. “Jonathan.”

“Are you kidding me?” Jonathan’s application for early admission to NYU was completed months ago, along with his financial aid and scholarship forms. Hopper knew that for a fact, because he had helped Joyce proof read all the paperwork. Twice. “What do you mean he’s not going to college?” Hopper couldn’t keep the outrage out of his tone. Jonathan had dreams. Dreams that didn’t include Hawkins, Indiana, and there was no good reason for him not to pursue them.

“He’s need to take care of Joyce and the baby.”

Hopper felt heat rise into his chest. Is that what Jonathan had taken from their conversation? Is that how he had twisted their talk in his mind? “Jesus.”

“Told you. Emergency.”

A car pulled up and their gazes both moved to the window, where Jonathan’s car was visible. “Speak of the devil.” Will was in the passenger seat, talking to his brother. “Go out and tell Jonathan to come in.” Insisted Hopper. Jane stood up before he could finish. She was the door as he called out, “Don’t tell him about this, just tell him to get in here.”

Hopper let out a puff of air as he watched her go. He had spoken too soon. Things weren’t getting back to normal, at all.

Hopper wasn’t left alone for very long. “He’ll be in in a minute.” Will told him as soon as he stepped into the trailer with Jane right behind him. The boy waved in greeting and then sat down to eagerly dug into his mother’s potato salad. He scooped a large glob onto his plate and then quickly shoved a forkful into his mouth.

“Jesus, kid. Did you eat today?”

Not embarrassed in the least, Will shrugged. “That was like…three hours ago.”

Hopper just nodded in response. Unless it was junk food, Jane wasn’t a big eater. Her male friends, were a whole different story. He was still getting used to the amount of food that they consumed. Hopper motioned towards Jane. “Grab a plate for Jonathan.” Jane shared a loaded look with Will before doing what she was told. It was a look that her father didn’t miss.

“What?”

Between bites of food, Will answered, “He’s in a bad mood.”

Hopper rolled his eyes and grabbed a burger just as Jane set a place for Jonathan.

“Nancy.”

Without thinking, Will added, “They’re fighting, again.” He didn’t feel right talking about his brother and he instantly felt guilty when he remembered who he was with.

Jane didn’t have such guilt. “They always fight about the baby.”

Hopper really didn’t care about their drama, but the mention of the baby sparked his interest. He dropped his hamburger onto his plate and fixed his gaze upon her. “What about the baby?”

“He doesn’t like her.”

Hopper’s brows furrowed. “Doesn’t like who?” Glancing across the table, he noticed that Will’s head was down and his eyes were focused on his place.

Jane’s response was soft. “The baby.”

“How can he hate something that’s not even born yet?” came Hopper incredulous question.

Jane used her fork to poke at her food and shrugged. “He doesn’t like her and Nancy’s mad.”

Hopper groaned. “Jane, the baby might be a boy. We’ve talked about this.”

“No.”

Hopper groaned. “Yes. It’s a fact.”

Jane shot him an adamant glare. “It’s a girl.” She had no doubt about it. She didn’t care if no one believed her.

Suddenly, Will looked up from his plate and snapped, “Stop talking about the baby.” His outburst was so out of character that both Jane and Hopper turned to him in shock. Instantly, Will’s brown eyes filled with emotion and his cheeks reddened. His soft, “Sorry” was barely audible.

Before Hopper could even think of a response, Jonathan walked in and for once, he was glad for the interruption. “Have a seat, kid.” He insisted.

Jonathan glanced around in confusion. “I thought you needed help?”

“I lied.” Hopper pointed to the remaining empty seat. “Your mom made all this food and she’s gonna be pissed if we don’t eat it.”

Swiping a piece of damp hair out of his eyes, Jonathan shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”

Hopper’s patience was wearing thing. “I’m not askin’ you,” he snapped. “We’re all gonna sit here and talk.”

“No way.”

Hopper didn’t back down. “Sit.”

The two men engaged in a battle of silent stubbornness until Jonathan eventually gave in and sat down with an exasperated sigh. He didn’t have to listen to Hopper. They were both well aware of that fact, but he did it anyway.

They all ate in silence for a long time. Jane was used to it and Will didn’t mind, but Jonathan was eager to get the meal over with. “So, what are we gonna talk about?”

Hopper looked up in surprise. “What?”

“I thought you wanted to talk?”

Realizing that three pairs of eyes were on him, Hopper felt suddenly wary. He was more than comfortable around them, but he wasn’t sure how to go about saying what needed to be said. In the end, it was Jane who opened up the line of conversation for him.

“The baby?” She could talk about the baby all day. It was her newest obsession.

Will sighed and Jonathan groaned. Their reactions propelled Hopper forward. “See, that’s what we need to talk about.” He pointed his finger back and forth between them. “You’re mad at your mom. I get it.”

“We already talked about this,” snapped Jonathan.

Hopper’s quick response was stern. “Well, we’re gonna talk about it again.”

Jonathan’s face twisted in outrage. “Why?”

“Because now apparently you’ve decided not to go to college. That’s why!” Hopper hadn’t intended to bring up the subject in front of Jane and Will. He didn’t want to completely embarrass him, but he was fed up. “You really think that staying here, giving up your life, giving up your dreams, is the right thing to do?”

Cheeks red with embarrassment, Jonathan shot an accusatory look towards Will. “You told him?”

“No, I didn’t…”

“Then how’d he find out? Who else did you tell?”

“I didn’t!”

“I did.” Jane cut in. “I told him.”

Jonathan’s glare moved to her, but he didn’t feel the same betrayal that he had felt towards Will. “This is bullshit.” He stood up in a rush but stopped moving when Hopper slammed his fist against the table.  

“Sit down.”

Again, Jonathan didn’t have to listen, but something compelled him to anyway. Without argument, he plopped back down and shoved his head into his hands.

“This sucks,” Hopper said. His words surprised the boys, but it was the truth and he wasn’t going to tiptoe around it. “You’re teenagers. You don’t want a baby around. I understand. This whole thing ain’t a picnic for me, either you know. Or your mom. But that’s life. It doesn’t go as planned and the baby’s coming whether we like it or not.”

“I like it,” said Jane.

Hopper’s face softened into a small smile. “I know, and that’s okay. You can like it, or not. All I’m sayin’ is, your mom needs our support. She needs all of us.” Remembering his conversation with Jonathan at the lab, he met his eyes. “We’re gonna be there for her. No matter what.” The kids all stayed silent and he could only hope that his words sunk in. They were all in this together. Hopper understood that now, in a way that he hadn’t before. “And you’re going to college.”

Jonathan let out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, and how am I supposed to do that?”

“It’s real easy, kid,” came Hopper sarcastic tone. “Need me to explain it?”

“You just said that we have to support my mom. That she needs us. How’s she gonna work and take care of a baby?” He was outraged by Hopper’s hypocrisy and annoyed that the man didn’t seem to comprehend just how much he contributed to the family. “We barely get by as it is.”

“That’s not something you should worry about.”

“Are you even listening to me?” Jonathan’s voice rose to a yell. “I can stay here, and get a job. That way we’ll at least have some money coming in. At least someone will be around to help her, Hopper.”

Intent on keeping the peace, Will turned to his brother. “I can get a job, on weekends.”

Jane chimed in before Jonathan could say anything. “I can watch the baby.”

Instead of arguing with Jane and Will, Hopper went along with them. “And I’m gonna be here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll do as much as she’ll let me do.”

Jonathan was annoyed that no one was on his side. “That’s not what you said before.”

“What?”

“Before. You said you had nothing to do with the baby.”

This was the second time that Jonathan had brought it up to him and Hopper was confused. He hadn’t realized that his statement would turn out to be such a big deal to him. “I meant, that the baby isn’t mine, not that I wanted nothing to do with it.”

“That’s not how it sounded.”

Hopper ran a hand through his hair and groaned in frustration. He was no good at talking about his feelings. It seemed like he was constantly messing things up. “I care about your mom. A lot. I’m not gonna just abandon her, alright? We’re friends.”

Jane took offense to his statement. She quickly corrected him. “You love her.”

There was a time that Hopper would object, or argue, or deny it, but that time was long gone. He didn’t even try.  “I do, and I’ll take care of her. We all will.”

Refusing to meet anyone’s eyes, Jonathan sat back in his chair and played with the remnants of his hamburger. It wasn’t easy for him to trust people, especially men. Caring for his mother and brother was what he knew how to do. He had never had a choice, before.

The atmosphere grew awkward, so Hopper broke the ice. “The kid’s got super powers. Don’t forget. She’ll force you to go to New York. The hard way.”

Jonathan glanced at Jane and laughed when he noticed that she was smiling. “I’ll think about it.” He eventually muttered.

It was a small victory, but it was still a victory, and that made Hopper happy. “Good. Let’s not tell your mom. Okay?” It was dangerous to keep things from Joyce. They all knew that, but agreed to do it anyway as they shared conspiratory looks. “No sense getting her worked up for nothing.”

Jonathan let out a sigh, but eventually agreed. “Yeah, okay.” Awkwardly, he pointed towards the phone. “Um...can I use your phone? I should probably, um...call Nancy.”

Hopper smirked. “Good thinking.” Jonathan went to use the phone and it gave Hopper a chance to study Will. “It’s gonna work out, with the baby.”

Hesitantly, Will met his eyes. “Are you sure?”

Hopper nodded. “Yeah. Hey, we’ve been through worse. Right? How hard can a baby be?” He was pleased when his words got a smile out of Will. “Alright, who's ready for desert?” Jane was out of her chair and in the kitchen before Will could respond.

[izumitate]

moonbound

kurodai week day 3: partners in crime

A space opera AU! Featuring scrappy Nekoma pirates, a decade long enemy-ship, and Daichi’s readiness to fight everybody in the galaxy. Content warning: contains mentions of violence and bodily harm.

Kuroo can feel his knuckles blanching white as he clutches at the armrest of Shibayama’s seat. His navigator is leaned so forward he looks like he might pitch right into the console at any moment, but Kuroo doesn’t want to disturb him while he’s calculating their best escape route with only his eyes, seconds before they need to make a decision. Ahead, the towering spires of Kamomedai’s financial sector stand jagged and crystalline, and will come away barely untouched when their ship finally collides with one of the armored glass walls and shatters into space debris.

“Lev, pull up! Pull up!” Kuroo hisses when he can’t take it anymore, but his pilot just laughs.

“It’s fine, captain! Not until Shibayama says so.” He turns them effortlessly around the next ‘spherescraper but continues his low course, skimming the skyline.

The only thing on their tail right now is the persistent first cruiser that caught them speeding out of the slums, but Kuroo knows from the klaxons sounding outside that it’s only a matter of minutes before an entire police battalion takes after them.

“Okay,” Shibayama finally says, pointing at the next monstrous crystal obtrusion on their right. The magnitude of its size is a step up from the others; must be a central bank for the planetside elite. “Lev, put on a burst of speed to get to the other side of that bank, and once you’re there, ascend as fast as possible. There’s a ton of floating condos up by the stratosphere, but you can handle it, right?”

“Of course I can!” Lev punches the accelerator and they shift violently forward, careening around and out of sight of their pursuer. He does exactly as Shibayama says, taking them almost vertical as he slams their ship up, up, up as fast as this engine can take them – which reminds Kuroo that they need to get a patch job done as soon as they’re back in the rogue quadrant – even as the sound of patrollers gathers behind them.

But Shibayama is right, as usual, and when Lev takes them into the overladen golden clusters of the floating apartments that only the richest can afford, their tiny ship flows through the maze of arches and gardens with ease, Lev’s skills weaving them without trouble out of the tangled airpark. They take the chance to finally put on the thrusters and break out of Kamomedai’s orbit while the police are mired in the gilded complex below.

Once free, Lev gives the rest of them a brief warning before putting on speed, so they’ll be well on their way to another star system by the time the police leave the planet. That, combined with the best cloaking system that underworld credits can buy, should keep them safe long enough to make it back to home base.

“We’re free and clear, team,” Kuroo calls to those below deck. By now Akane and Kai should’ve gotten Inuoka’s scrape taken care of; it was a minor injury, which means they don’t have to bother stopping by any outpost on their way back. “Headed home.”

“Sounds good, captain!” comes Akane’s voice echoing against the steel walls before she begins scolding Inuoka for getting up too quickly. Yaku’s voice joins the din and soon the whole ship is clattering with noise again, just the way Kuroo expects it to be.

Outside, the barren expanse of space between here and the safe haven of the unbound territories is comforting, as is the quiet. Nothing but stars to light their way back.

--

Nekoma calls the ramshackle colony of Spring Heights their home, though during most cycles their ship is home enough for the crew. Spring Heights is the most ironically named planetoid on this side of Andromeda, and it’s a hub of underworld activity. Kuroo rarely takes a job before first running it by his information network planetside, because who knows what kind of nonsense you could get embroiled in alone with some unknown party in the outer reaches. This is a lesson he learned long before he had his own people, when he was still a kid running jobs for some two-bit privateers who’d survived on luck instead of smarts. A broken leg, a crater canyon, and three gunfights later, Kuroo had realized he wasn’t working with anyone he hadn’t chosen himself anymore.

Nekoma is the team he built from the ground up with Kenma, who is the only thing more constant in Kuroo’s life than the call of the endless dark, the cosmic dust in his veins. He trusts them with everything, and it’s part of the reason why he never decides alone whether to take on a new job. This time around, he gets word from Johzenji that there’s a job specifically requesting to employ Nekoma; it comes down from Misaki, so Kuroo’s tempted to take it just on principle, but that’s the kind of messy thinking that gets people shipjacked even if she’s one of the most reliable info brokers he knows.

He agrees to meet the client out at Sumida Outpost, located on the outskirts of snake country because he knows that even though Daishou hates his guts, and even though he’s a dirty, thieving bastard, his territories are always well-defended and nominally hospitable toward others of their profession.

As usual, most of the crew stays behind under Kai’s command, busy with everyday tasks like sprucing up the ship and fencing their goods. Kuroo takes their secondary ship with Kenma, Yaku and Yamamoto, and they head off for the grungy, scorpion-ridden tavern Yaku favors at Sumida.

Even before they land Kuroo gets a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach, but it’s different from his flight instinct. There’s a spark of danger in the air, though he could also write that off as the dissatisfied static that always buzzes around dry, end of the road towns like this.

The tavern is dimly lit as always, and filled with the sounds of cards shuffling and deals being made. The smell of tobacco and ale and burnt meat hang heavy in the air, and it’s difficult to see through the veil of smog as they make their way toward their usual corner table next to the blown out window. The person seated there is staring out at the dunes that stretch on and on in gray and tan bands to the horizon. Kuroo can’t make out any details of their client’s face until he’s close enough to touch.

“Hello, captain. It’s been a while,” says the calm, terrifying voice of Imperial Vice Admiral Sawamura Daichi a split second before the air clears and Kuroo can make out more than his silhouette shrouded in tavern smoke. It doesn’t speak well to Kuroo’s preservation instincts that his first thought is damn, just as hot as I remembered and not danger!!

“Shit,” Yaku curses, hand jumping to his gun faster than Kuroo can say a word. At least one of them is still on it. Yamamoto shifts immediately in front of Kenma, fully prepared to shield him from any harm with his own body. But even though Kuroo’s body is reflexively poised to spring away, his heart remains steady. The Imperial Navy might be the scum on the bottom of a comet hopper’s shoe, but he’s known Sawamura for over a decacycle now, and he knows that the man would never initiate an attack against one of Kuroo’s subordinates unless he had made certain to kill Kuroo first. There’s a degree of integrity in him that most Imperial officers don’t possess.

Sawamura makes no move to stand or draw to fire; instead, he raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. Around them, activity in the tavern continues, no one disturbed by this turn of events the way Nekoma is, which Kuroo supposes either speaks well for the situation, or it means everyone in the building is going to die. Even out here in the boondocks, the name and face of one of New Miyagi’s best military commanders is known and feared, so why isn’t anyone else surprised to see him?

“If it helps put your mind at ease, Yaku-san, I came unarmed. You can check if you want.” And he looks down at his waist, folding his hands casually atop his head. Yaku wastes no time flipping open Sawamura’s coat and patting him down.

“He’s not lying,” Yaku says, but one hand remains at his holster and his eyes never leave Sawamura even as he backs away. “But I don’t trust him yet.”

“That’s fair. But I didn’t call you out here to hunt you down,” Sawamura tells him. He gestures at the bench on the other side of the table. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. I actually really do have a job for you.” No one moves.

“Forgive me if I find that a little unbelievable, vice admiral. Seeing as the last time we met you gave me a good bonk on the head for my troubles, and strafed most of the left side of my ship right off,” Kuroo says mildly. His eyes flick down to watch the way Sawamura’s mouth twitches into a quick smile before he tries to look neutral again.

“If I remember correctly, you gave me a nice parting gift too, Kuroo-san.” He reaches up to tug aside the right sleeve of his dusty tunic (and isn’t that a look, Sawamura Daichi out of that crisp uniform and dressed like a meteor rat like the rest of them) and bares the long sword burn Kuroo left him with two cycles ago, back on one of Tsubakihara’s lesser moons.

“It looks good on you?” Kuroo tries to sound remorseful, but it had been one hell of a fight that he probably would’ve been laughing his way through if his crew hadn’t been scrambling all over the deck, desperately putting up patch shields where they could. Even now he can remember with perfect clarity the taste of adrenaline and dust against his clenched teeth as he finally knocked Sawamura off the roof of their ship to be bubbled back to his own fleet. Crazy bastard hadn't let up on Kuroo for a second, even if it meant almost getting fried by one of his own ships’ artillery. Then again, Kuroo has no room to speak. He’d almost dragged them both down into a death marsh during a knife fight once. “Rugged. Everyone digs a good scar.”

“Yeah, my whole unit wolf-whistles every time I walk by,” Sawamura says with a roll of his eyes.

“Well, can you blame them? You’re too handsome to be wasted in your line of work. Come take a walk on the wild side. We’re prettier and we have more fun.”

Sawamura laughs when Kuroo winks at him. “I suppose one of those statements is true.”

Just like that they’re bantering again, the way they always do before one of them inevitably draws a weapon. Kuroo can sense Kenma’s sigh long before he hears it.

“What kind of job could you have for people like us?” Kenma asks, sliding back into view, even though Yamamoto still has an arm held protectively out in front of him. He watches Sawamura with what looks like a disinterested face, but Kuroo knows better. He’s intrigued, albeit still on his guard.

“Honestly, ‘people like you’ are the only ones I would trust with this. I need a certain skill set – one that Nekoma’s proven to excel at – and I need a group of people I can...I don’t know if trust is the right word, but let’s go with it for now.” Sawamura sits forward looking briefly at each of them in turn. “I know we have a long, volatile history, but it’s also exactly why I think you guys are the people I need to hire for this job. Because I know what your boundaries are, and I know I can count on you not to fuck me over where it counts.”

He looks directly at Kuroo when he says this, and there’s a plain honesty in his eyes that leads Kuroo to finally take a seat across from him, elbows up on the sticky tabletop.

“Alright, that’s enough buttering up. I’ll hear you out. What’s the job?”

“I need to get into Datekou. And I need your help to do it.”

He’s met with silence.

Probably because what he just proposed is beyond insane. The others must feel as shocked as Kuroo does, and it seems for a second that even the rest of the tavern conversation lulls when the name Datekou is spoken aloud. It’s a cursed shroud that settles over their table, instantly dampening the already tense mood.

“Wait- wait a second,” Yamamoto sputters first. “Are you telling me you want to hire us for a jailbreak? From the Iron Wall?”

“Yep. That is exactly what I want.”

“This is a setup,” Yaku announces. “You’re goading is into accepting your highly illegal mission then busting us once we get there. Now, what I’m confused about is why you didn’t pick something that wasn’t a blatant suicide mission.”

“That’s another fair assumption, but I give you my word that I’m completely serious. I didn’t come here to entrap you.” Sawamura flexes one hand, clenching and unclenching in an exercise of control, clearly trying to suppress some emotion as he keeps his voice even. His eyes are incandescent as he continues.

“They have four of my crew locked up in there, and I want them back.”

“Your crew? On what grounds? The Karasuno’s an Imperial ship,” Kuroo says in confusion. Not that the empire’s navy is in any way a stronghold of morality, but for government dogs, the crew of the Karasuno are better than most. Honorable where honor still counts. He can’t imagine they’d have done anything worth being court martialed for.

Sawamura’s laugh is pure bitterness. “The Karasuno was an Imperial ship. Now it’s being junked for scrap. Those of my crew that the court couldn’t frame for treason they reassigned to the outer rim fleet. The cloud skimmers. Ougiminami, Kakugawa. Chidoriyama. They scattered my team, my family, across the stars, and they locked up the rest behind the Iron Wall. I’m taking them back.”

Kuroo swallows down the parched itchiness in his throat at this news. It’s not like Nekoma could ever be friends with a naval crew, but there had always been a kind of mutual respect between themselves and the Karasuno, and this is nothing he ever would have wished on them.

“Well, shit, Sa’amura-san, what the fuck did you do to get your entire ship obliterated?”

“You know me,” Sawamura says, his smile vicious. “Stayed a little too honest. Didn’t look the other way when they insisted. I kept on pushing, kept on playing even after I should have folded.”

“But you never fold,” Kuroo says ruefully.

“No, I don’t,” and it might be the only time he’ll ever sound like he regrets it. “And I still don’t plan to.”

It’s not just simple posturing. After enough encounters, there are a few things Kuroo would say he and Sawamura can tell about each other. One fact is that they share the same tenacity, for better or worse.

This asshole really means it: he would walk right up to the Iron Wall armed with only his black market gun and military issue sword and it would still be Datekou’s mistake for standing in his way. But all logic says that despite Sawamura’s damnable perseverance, he’s dead if he tries whatever idiotic plan he’s come here to talk Nekoma into.

“That’s your prerogative, and I don’t expect any less of you, really, but. Fuck, Sawamura, you know we’re fucked if we take this on, don’t you? Everyone knows that Nekoma’s the best at infiltration that there is, but we’re thieves, not soldiers. We move cargo, not people. And we don’t take a job like this no matter how lucrative. I’m sorry, but I don’t think we can do this.”

Sawamura nods once, understanding. Then he sighs, sounding truly regretful.

“I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to do this, but I think I’m going to have to call in that favor.”

Yamamoto sucks in a harsh breath, and the others fall still. Kenma’s hand twitches at his side, resisting the urge to reach out to Kuroo’s arm. Kuroo himself just rests his hands together on the table and bites his lip once before nodding as well. He might have figured.

Out here, in the lawless territories, on the husk planets fit only for rogues and mercenaries, a life saved is a life owed. And Kuroo knew that when Sawamura inevitably cashed in on that favor he wouldn’t take it lightly, even if he wouldn’t demand outright that Kuroo sacrifice his life for him.

“You know that only promises my service, not that of Nekoma, correct?” Next to him, Kuroo can feel his crewmates tensing, but they all know better to say anything. They know they can’t talk him out of this one.

Sawamura brought Kuroo back from death’s edge once, at the cost of his own arm and half his jaw. Both parts had been grafted back on with the best medi-tech the empire could afford, but it’d been a total shitshow for a while there, the two of them stranded alone on the ice and iron hull of a downed Inarizaki starfighter. Kuroo only remembers fever-dream flashes of the event, too far gone on whatever the foxes had gassed him with as he shoved Alisa and Fukunaga into the last escape pod. Sawamura found him lying barely conscious on the stern of the ship, and rescued him from being slaughtered by one of Inarizaki’s automated guards. Fucking fox militants and their stupid fucking robots.

“C’mon now, Kuroo, I can’t you die at the hands of the Federation. You’re pirate scum, but you’re still an Imperial citizen,” Sawamura told him, hitching him higher on his back and trundling on through the blood and shrapnel splattered snow.

“Like fuck I am,” Kuroo mumbled out, too woozy to banter.

“Save your breath until you’ve got enough brainpower for a witty comeback.”

Sawamura carried his useless rag doll body all the way to the outpost where they could hunker down until help arrived. Kuroo thought they would be safe there: it was converted from a shrine to a makeshift waystation, all stone walls and steel fixtures, but it had been overrun with more Inarizaki infantry automatons. They fought off the droids at great cost, and the last memory Kuroo has of that desolate place before waking up under Kenma and Kai’s watchful guard is of Sawamura, his face a mess of jagged flesh and his left side drenched in blood, cutting down another advancing automaton before it could reach them.

Kai told him later that Sawamura hadn’t even bothered to send a perfunctory ship after them when they came to collect Kuroo. He’d simply waved them off, saying that Kuroo owed him now, and hobbled into the hold of his lieutenants to be rushed back to the medbay of the Karasuno. A full cycle passed before they met again, and they avoided the topic altogether, choosing to mock each other about overcompensating with their weapons, which of course led naturally into trying to shoot one another again.

But Kuroo has never forgotten that debt, and apparently, neither has Sawamura.

“I know. I would never ask you to risk them. Under any other circumstance I wouldn’t ask you to risk yourself either; you could say I’ve developed a strange interest in keeping you alive.” He offers Kuroo the slightest of smiles, and it almost makes him look sad. “But for my crew I would do anything.”

“Understatement of the centicycle. Alright, Sawamura-san, you have me at your disposal,” Kuroo says, finally leaning back in his seat to relax. If he’s going to die like this, then he might as well enjoy the time he has left in the universe. This is a fool’s errand, he knows, but on the one in a million chance they pull any of it off, well. It’ll be the adventure of a lifetime.

“If my captain is in, then so am I,” Yamamoto says quietly, and Kuroo looks sharply over at him.

“No, that’s not your decision to make. Nekoma isn’t a part of this deal.”

“Yeah, it is, Kuroo-san. If you’re in, then I’m in. That’s how it is.”

“Don’t be stupid, I’m not risking any of you for Sawamura’s death wish-”

“Do you like pretending to be an idiot, or did that bonk really knock some of your sense out of you?” Yaku says, an irritated line cutting into his forehead. “This is a job for Nekoma. You accepted it. Therefore, we’ve all accepted it. Kenma?”

Kenma, the usual voice of reason, just gives Kuroo a tired shrug. “Kuro, we’ll take the offer back to base to discuss, but you know you won’t get anywhere without the rest of us. Tora’s right. If you’re taking the job, then so are we. Is this acceptable?” he asks Sawamura.

“No complaints here. I came to hire Nekoma, after all, not just Kuroo. Though you personally occupy a special place in my life,” Sawamura says dryly, running a thumb across the graft scar running along his cheek.

“In your heart too, I would hope,” Kuroo says automatically, still hung up on the thought of getting his whole crew annihilated over a clearly impossible feat. But the conversation is already moving on without him.

“Before we commit to this, I wanna be sure we know what we’re really getting into,” Kenma says, sliding onto the bench next to Kuroo.

“Of course. Ask away.”

“Strategy, logistics, personnel – are you willing to leave it all up to us?”

“I trust you to do whatever needs doing, yes. And I’ll finance whatever you need me to, on top of your payment.”

“Okay. This will take some time to get together; they’re not on death row are they? Good. One last time, I need to check. Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? Even knowing you’re more than certain to die?”

Sawamura doesn’t waver in the slightest. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“You’re already lucky your men are just imprisoned instead of up for execution,” Kenma warns. “But if you try this, they won’t pardon you again. Ignoring the fact that it’s virtually impossible to get into Datekou, let alone get back out – even if we somehow miraculously succeed, you’re dead the second any of you ever set foot on Imperial territory again. You’ll be worse off than even we are.”

“I know, and I don’t care. They lost me the moment they took my crew from me.”

“What happened to you?” Yaku asks abruptly. “They took your men, took your ship, but for someone like you- the less you have, the more dangerous you are. Why would they let you stay around?”

“Divine intervention, I guess you could call it. An old friend on the flagship Seijou pulled me for one of his smaller ships, and I’m too fucking decorated for the empire to just throw me to the wolves. They want me to waste a few years before they can reassign me to a frontline ship and hopefully get myself killed on some nameless moon in the middle of nowhere. I figured I would do them the favor of getting out of their hair before then.” He says it matter of factly, like he decided this life-changing course of action over tea one day.

“And cause an intergalactic riot in the process?” Kuroo asks, impressed by how far off the deep end Sawamura has decided to dive in one go.

“Why not? I’ve always been committed to justice, not order, captain. The empire has made it clear to me they do not value justice, so I’ll take it into my own hands.” There’s that shadow again, the one that lingers behind Sawamura’s brown eyes whenever he carries the weight of more than just himself. Kuroo can only see it when he’s really looking for it, but there’s something that lurks in the corners of Sawamura’s soul that’s just as dangerous as the rest of him, albeit in a different way.

“You know, I always thought you’d make one hell of a pirate. It’s good to know that assumption wasn’t misplaced.”

Sawamura laughs, some of the darkness in his gaze ebbing away. “Funny, I always thought you would have excelled in the navy. Odd how fate works sometimes, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think it was fate that brought you to us today. I think you just take a kind of sadistic pleasure in fucking up my plans for a carefree life, vice admiral.”

“I’m not going to lie to you by denying it, captain.”

It’s kind of fucked up that Kuroo missed this, the dance of words they’d perfected in between trying to stab each other. It’ll be strange, adapting to a new relationship built on more than banter and the chase, but if he’s being honest with himself, he’s always wondered what it might be like if they spent more than thirty heart-racing minutes with each other every time they met. Might as well find out before he dies.

With a grin, he extends his hand across the table, holding just a second too long after Sawamura accepts the handshake. “Alright, Sawamura-san, let’s get your team back.”

[midcing]

okay so i have some New Kids.... they are all trash but some of them are trying their best which should honestly count for something imho... i’ll probably bring some more muses in at some point during this week bc i legit have 25 apps in my drafts right now and i just didn’t apply for all at once bc didn’t want to overwhelm myself... honestly tho? i want all the plots.... so like... pls like this and i’ll im you or come to me throwing ideas at my face so we plot and have some connections and threads ?? love my new trash sons pls ?? thanks !

JAMES WEST looks an awful lot like CHARLIE WEBER. HE is THIRTY NINE and while they’re LOGICAL, they have a tendency to get pretty CONTRARY. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to POLARIZE by TWENTYONEPILOTS.

inspired by ;; frank delfino from htgawm, walter white from breaking bad and jaime lannister from game of thrones. 

a lawyer

has 2 daughters.

would probably start a war for both of them if they asked him to.

thinks his daughters are angels who can do no wrong. if he saw them murdering someone in front of him, he would probably come up with a reason why they were doing it and defend them which isn’t great bc they are both like wild kids who are not actual angels ( wc ?? anyone ?? i’m trash for families ngl )

sketchy morals at best? ? doesn’t think of himself as someone who would do anything wrong but if something wrong is being done for his benefit he is sure as hell not gonna stop it

got into an ivy league school because his father - criminal known for money laundering, corruption, and fraud - donated a huge sum of money to the college. will die pretending he got in on his own merit 

the older brother of my character mark west bc i love families sue me

would probably google ‘how to know if i am a dilf’

says thing like ‘lit’ and ‘on fleek’ to relate to the youth

pretends everything is fine until it blows up in his face

wants to much ! a perfect life, a perfect house, a perfect family, a perfect wife, a perfect job ! pretty good ? nah. not good enough for james west. scratch that and start again. everything must be 10/10

wants to be everybody’s dad even tho he isn’t a great dad to his two kids

will make your life choices for you if you let him

will bail you out of jail but only if he is allowed to give you a 3 hour lecture on Responsibility 

will logic his way out of moral conundrums

the kind of person that turns a blind eye to corruption if it benefits him in some way

tries his best, which really honestly can only be said about 5% of my characters, so i would give him some credit

if you ask him a question he doesn’t want to answer he will just straight up ignore the question and change the subject 

feels guilty about the way his helps criminals and does wrong stuff for his benefit and the benefit of the people he loves but also doesn’t try to change

aesthetics — watching the sunset through the office window, loud alarms playing an hour later than it should, unrecognizable reflection in the mirror, child laughter and the heavy feeling of stress in your chest, hushed whispers of assertions amidst a crowd, old wedding rings saved away after the divorce, big houses and empty space, thousand dollar watches, the smell of jail permanently stuck to a three piece suit, painfully happy memories, ignoring the way guilt makes it hard to breath, arguing in a favor of a guilty party.

FRANK HAMILTON looks an awful lot like DAVID HARBOUR. HE is FORTY ONE and while they’re DEVOTED, they have a tendency to get pretty UNPRINCIPLED. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to SEDATED by HOZIER.

inspired by ;; hank from detroit become human and chief hopper from stranger things

                                                              tw: gambbling, alcoholism

a mess trying to pass for a functioning human being

he is a dirty cop that accepts bribes to let people off the hook and gets money from gangs to look the other way when he knows they will be doing something wrong somewhere bc he truly cannot bring himself to care

honestly i have no excuses for his behavior

has a huge problem with gambling. 

born in kola. lived in kola for almost 30 years. moved out after his marriage fell apart, but has recently moved back

the kind of human being who thinks blood and gasoline are sexy

the kind of person that goes All Fucking Out for things and then when things don’t turn out exactly how he expected them to he makes a fuss about it and goes like “why did i even bother?”

will call you out on your bullshit and then act like people just throw shit at other’s face like that. stare you in the eye after exposing you and ask ‘what?’

says stuff like ‘i might be a shitty person but at least i’m upfront about it’ and ‘i prefer not to get involved in people’s lives.’

there is no such thing as a acquaintances. frank either loves you with all his heart and would kill a man for you OR he hates you and the fact that you are able to talk annoys him

you’ve heard of overachivers ?? well frank  is here to present you A True Underachiever. he tries to do the bare minimum amount of work possible 

the personification of /r/notmyjob

would probably go to an underground fighting ring for fun

channels his unhappiness into unhealthy habits. drinks too much, smokes too much. doesn’t do anything to change the fact that he is unhappy

gambled his marriage away by which i mean he gambled everything owned away and kept trying to find excuses for it until she was done and left . he still loves her but he feels like shit and he doesn’t wanna drag her back into his shitty life ( wc ? pls ? )

moved away from kola when his marriage ended and went to las vegas. lived there until he got in dept there too and he couldn’t find anywhere else to play then came back to kola 

at some point was wide-eyed and hopeful and interested in helping people but slowly became unhappy with how he didn’t go anywhere, didn’t become better, greater, didn’t do more and then slowly things just went to shit

aesthetics — casual cruelty in the name of honesty, cigarette buds collecting on an old ashtray, crumbled dollar bills found between couch cushions, falling asleep at three o’clock and waking up the next day, bloody knuckles, handcuffs and police siren, the smell of alcohol in your breath at ten in the morning, unironed shirts and old cologne, knowing something is wrong but doing it anyway, ignored calls from concerned family members, remembering you have to do something just as it is too late to do it, the thrill in heartbeat when you land a punch in someone’s face, drunk steps stumbling out of the bar, begging people for one more chance.

SEBASTIAN “BASH” VANCOOP looks an awful lot like LIAM PAYNE. HE is TWENTY TWO and while they’re CHARMING, they have a tendency to get pretty SELFISH. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to PLAY ME LIKE A VIOLIN by JEREMY.

inspired by ;; hakeem lyon from empire and aaron burr from hamilton

that one sort of famous person that is always shirtless in other famous’ people instagram stories

treats people like things he can use and drop when he gets tired of

fake af. will say he likes you and then shit talk about you behind your back

that one person that goes ‘ooooooooooh you are gonna let them talk like that about you ?? ’ when other people are fighting 

only wears prada chanel and gucci

can actually be really nice if you get to know him but how ? when there are three hundred walls up ??

thinks people are gonna take advantage of him or make fun of him so he just doesn’t trust anyone. can’t get betrayed if you never let anyone in right ??

doesn’t understand internet culture

was born in an insanely rich family. his father was a famous movie producer and his mother was a famous movie star. picture like spielberg as his dad and kate winslet as his mom 

hates when people say like ‘Oh So You Are [    ]’s son?’

the first movie he was ever in was when he was about 5

he was in a bunch of movies from ages 5 to 12 but it was never really anything big. he was just the main character’s kid or that one kid that doesn’t get much screen time in movies like goonies

he never really liked acting but what else woUld he do ?? look at his family !! look at his legacy !! [ cue ‘wait for it’ from the hamilton soundtrack playing in the background ]

when he was 20 his father produced and directed a movie in which he stared. it was like his first Real role in hollywood action blockbuster. before the movie was out there was this whole hype about him and his dad working together and wow it’ll be awesome but it pretty much bombed. picture like After Earth bomb. everyone shit talking about him and the movie and how dumb it is on youtube bomb. the movie doesn’t get money to pay for itself bomb.

despite the fact that his parents said it didn’t matter. it was just a bad movie. everyone making fun of him and people shit talking about how he didn’t have his parents’ talent got to him real bad. he stopped acting all together.

his parents keep telling him to Do Something but he just doesn’t

is living in kola bc LA is a dumb of reminder of everything he thinks he did wrong

aesthetics — the blinding lights of camera flashes, the light feeling of being drunk, loud songs blaring through club speakers, interviews stopped halfway through, rude comments and anger, crowded parties in expensive summer homes, the overwhelming feeling in your chest when someone gets too close to fast, feigned charm and stranger’s company, running out of things to say after you have known someone for a while, wasted champagne dripping off a tilted bottle and loud laughter coming from the other room, the slow but continues pain in your heart that reminds you you are disappointment.

MATTHEW “MATTEO” DECKER looks an awful lot like JON BERNTHAL. HE is FORTY TWO and while they’re WILLFUL, they have a tendency to get pretty BLUNT. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to SEVEN NATION ARMY by THE WHITE STRIPES.

inspired by ;; frank castle from daredevil, frank castle from the punshiner, frank castle from the born comics series. ( they are three different people, fight me ) seeley booth from bones in season five

                                       tw: alcoholism, ptsd, mention of army, and war

former us marine

mostly goes by decker. his family used to calls him matteo but when other people do it it’s like .. “no”

you have been heard of resting bitch face ? matteo is here to show you the resting i fucking hate you face

swears too much like Wayy too much

he can be honestly really fucking soft i’m ngl but then you gotta be that one person that breaks down walls and again ? who has the time for that ? in the twenty first century?

wants to take care of everyone but pretends he is not interested in people bc he “Knows” everyone is gonna die or leave so there is no fucking point

actually just pretends he isn’t The Absolute Softest for everyone and tries to keep them all at arm's length but then people say ‘hi’ and are nice to him and he is like ‘Fuck me now i like them’

can actually laugh and make jokes which is Impressive imo

but then goes back to being bitter and angry at life

too straight up about things : could heavenly benefit from learning how to read social cues

you have to Tell him things if you want him to understand it. you can’t go around dropping hints. he won’t get it.

drinks his coffee black and without sugar

enlisted when he was eighteen bc patriotism and american dream and red white and blue stars but then that slowly stopped being the point. then he was just doing it bc He had been doing that for years what else would he do ? and then at some point he just saw too much … and then when he was discharged he just Never came back

after he came back he couldn’t find a job and he didn’t know what else to do and he slowly started getting involved with shady stuff and now he sells drugs to pay the bills

disappointed in who he is right now. 

he is honestly Trying his very best.

aesthetics — punching a wall until your hands stings and your chest doesn’t anymore, the pleasant light feeling of holding back laughter, completed tasks and unachievable peace of mind, low chatter in dive bars in dark parts of town, questioning your belief system, roadside motels and failing neon lights, moonlight coming through the bedroom window, leaving the morning after, combat boots, loud honking cars and shaky hands, fighting the urge to shove someone away when you feel their touch against your skin, quiet places and pleasant loneliness, old dusty books and rock music, waking up multiple times in the middle of the night, whiskey mixed with coffee

OCTAVIANUS BRUNO GENTILLE looks an awful lot like FRANCOIS ARNAUD. HE is THIRTY SIX and while they’re ROMANTIC, they have a tendency to get pretty UNREALISTIC. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to SOMEONE NEW by HOZIER.

inspired by ;; jay gatsby from the great gatsby, romeo from romeo and juliet, tom hansen from (500) days of summer, a slam poem i saw on youtube once

                                              tw: bullying, mention of learning disabilities and stutter

romanticized every bad thing that happened in his life.

will romanticize every bad thing that ever happened in your life.

the kind of person that says “things happen for a reason…”

goes by his middle name. honestly thinks his first name is the Most Stupid Thing In The World if you call him octavianus he’ll be legit annoyed. kids used to make fun of him at school all that jazz. just call bruno

he is legit in love with italian culture and history. his father was italian and he just highkey Cannot Shut Up About It

art history professor in kola’s college

the kind of professor that just loves what he is doing… you know when the professor like kinda looks excited that he is talking or sharing knowledge or just talking about shit they truly like ? that is bruno

a nerd but pretends he isn’t

could not do a one night stand without catching feelings if his life depended on it

loves people too much too fast with all his heart

there is an argument to be made for him not actually falling in love with people and just with the idea of love that he made up in his mind but let’s get to that when we get to that

will spend the entire lesson arguing with one student about how inaction in our current political climate is just as harmful as supporting people who are doing harm when he was supposed to be talking about impressionism or something like that

thinks people have a soulmate and he is just trying to find his

100% not only Shows up to slam poetry sessions but Helps organize them

real political. the type of person that rallies when things are wrong and gets others to do it

has too many exes

posts pictures with his current girl/boyfriends on instagram and then doesn’t delete them when they break up bc ‘that’s who i was at that moment’

can recite poetry for you in italian but do not let him trick you. he’ll only be around for the honeymoon phase of the relationship then he’ll be like wow this isn’t perfect. time to end it

loves art !! all type of art !! is terrible at all of it : writing, panting, photography. but he loves it and he does it despite being bad and he tells people to do what they love !! and follow their dreams !!

his parents got a divorce when he was 7 and it was pretty bad. his dad was italian and moved back to italy shortly after. his mother was from kola and he stayed with her.

it was as if his world had fallen apart at that. bruno had never even seen his parents fight and then one day his father just moves out to Another Country he was pretty lost and confused

bruno moved back and forth between italy and the u.s. throughout most of his childhood and adolescence. never spending a lot of time in one place.

though his parents tried to remain friends after the divorce for his sake it never really worked out. his father wanted his mom back while his mother moved on and got married again.

growing up, he had a lot of trouble with accents and language. his father used to speak only italian at home. and his mother used to speak only english.

he developed a learning disability and a stutter after his parents got divorced

kids in school used to make fun of him. the way he talked and his name specially.

doesn’t stutter anymore but when he is talking about something that is hard to talk about, he talks really slowly to make sure the words come out properly

aesthetics — ukulele songs playing softly in a room with echo, piano recitals with ten people in the audience, walking around aimlessly, kissing greek statues, being happy that you are sad because it means that you are alive, cheering on others success, lacking ambition and living the present, old songs hummed in the shower, waking up early and staying in bed until 10am, cuddling under warm blankets, failing in love with a stranger, laughing loudly with new friends, white wine, beautiful paintings in an empty museum, admiring something for way too long,

ANTHONY MILLER looks an awful lot like JOSH DALLAS. HE is THIRTY NINE and while they’re PATIENT, they have a tendency to get pretty SELF-RIGHTEOUS. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to JACKIE AND WILSON by HOZIER.

inspired by ;; prince charming from once upon a time, ned stark from game of thrones, bob belcher from bob’s burgers

                                                                      tw: cancer

cannot talk about his feelings . cannot accept his own mistakes . cannot show weakness . at any point. no matter the subject . cannot let anyone take care of him.

Must be the best at all times for everyone and take care of everyone

self-care is a myth anthony does not believe in

works too much

he needs glasses to read stuff but he pretends he doesn’t so he does that squinting and pulling things close to his face thing. at which point you would probably ask ‘anthony if you don’t want to wear glasses wouldn’t it be easier ? to just ? wear contact lenses ?’ and yes it would it definitely would but anthony likes to make things harder for himself

slow to anger but he has that temper that you literally cannot see coming. he looks serious and stoic and then wow thunderfucking storms breaking chairs and stuff

loves beers and american football

the type of person that says this generation is lost

might smoke too much but he doesn’t talk about that

he doesn’t talk about anything actually

although i love him with all my heart. i would not rec

there is a right way to do stuff and anthony as the holder of all the knowledge and morality Must tell you about it

rarely ever smiles bUT when he does ? smiles like a prince. if we had a royal verse he’d be the king of the entire universe honestly.

he was a oldest child in a family of 7. his parents were super wealthy and he was the One favorite child who both parents used to love and cherish and cheer on.

he got his high school sweetheart pregnant. his parents didn’t want him to marry her bc she was Poor and Not up to standards but he chose love over his family and got disowned for that. hasn’t talked to his family since

his dream life was always to have the perfect picket fence house and american dream type of family. it was supposed to be him, his wife, his son and maybe some day he would have a daughter and it would Be great

he and his wife had a son and they named him hendrix bc she loved rock and jimi hendrix and he loved the name even tho he never liked rock. but honestly ? he was so weak for her he would have loved the name lkgjdflajf if she suggested it

a few months after their first son was born tho she was diagnosed with cancer and a few months later she passed away

after that he raised his son by himself. he really threw himself into it. spent most of his life focused on it and work and now his son is going to college and he doesn’t know what to do with himself

the only person he ever Truly dated was his wife and then he just focused on his son and raising him so he never really allowed himself to date bc then he would have to introduce someone else to his son’s life and all that … sO anthony is usually all cool and fine and then you show romantic interest in him and there is like a visible shift ya know? like he goes from anthony to a truly profoundly awkward person trying to pretend it’s cool

aesthetics — organized work tables, color coded to-do lists, trying your very best at all times, mental exhaustion showing through physical symptoms, dad jokes and laughing by yourself, the smell of new books, comfort found in old libraries, forgetting your reading glasses at home, losing your temper and breaking something, old family photos lost somewhere in the attic, pushing someone else on a swing, sundays afternoons lost at the park, working extra hours instead of going home, cold breeze and hugging yourself to your jacket, trying to explain to someone why they are wrong when they don’t want to listen