#to even see them standing together more often (and not just at their father’s grave 😭)

[pyjamacryptid]

I’m thinking about Gwen and Elyan tonight folks….. they were siblings, finally reunited after years, reconciled, and obviously cared for one another very much and there were hardly any on-screen interactions between them save for episodes where either one of them was in danger of some kind. Sigh.

I also know for a fact their exchanges would’ve been hilarious because it seemed that Elyan was the one person that knew how to annoy Gwen at light-speed LOL

yeselyanprincearthurofcamelot

[simp-ly-writes]

A Shadow Company Visit (pt.2)

PSA: This can be read as a standalone; yet it is recommended that you read pt.1 before (linked below).

Pairing: Commander Philip Graves x Reader & Shadow Soldiers

Summary: Whats days are like when you are visiting the shadows (and their commander) on base, and the occasional off-base mission.

Warnings: 1000+ words, a bit of overprotective themes, mentions of anxiety and children, hinted behind-the-scenes death and jealousy, light teasing.

A/N: I thought I only had a few extra thoughts tailing on... yet they kept on coming... and here we are! a bit of a different format as well, tell me if you like this format more :)

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

A Shadow Company Visit Series (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) you are here

↳ After the whole gate incident, all the Shadows are a bit nervous too approach you in fear of their commander telling them off (though later on this will become true if you spend a bit too much time with them...)

↳ You start coming on to base more often and they start to become more used to your presence; seeing you eating with them, helping others to complete their work, calming down their commander, talking to everyone the same from superiors and senators to British visitor and a new recruit (you become more confident navigating the busy base as well)

↳ Philip almost assumes that you will show-up most days now, expecting you in his arms while planning the next mission, on his lap within his office as he files paperwork. You stand just behind him, hands brushing against one another as he orders the Shadows around in the morning during PT, training the new recruits and talks with department heads (they all are thankful of your presence as well)

↳ You end up having a smaller office station within his own that you work out of on your "at-home" days from your separate job, bright yellow sticky-notes cover the surface with small notes and doodles they sometimes find their way outside the office. Atop the desk also sits a mug filled with various pens that often get stolen for a very certain someone sharing the space...

↳ Anyways! You often bring baked treats for them all that are later served in the cafeteria (and carry lollipops and other sweets in your bag for kind and helpful Shadows). Other Shadows brag to one another, like receiving a metal of honour, a golden star sticker by receiving one of your treats

↳ You join them in the obstacle course, yelling words of encouragement as other Shadow groups move through, and patch up their small cuts and bruises on a nearby bench with coloured band-aid of course! (they stick out like a sore-thumb against the black uniforms and Graves nearly digs his head in while seeing how many Shadows wear the dang plasters; he does not have the heart to tell you no though)

↳ Graves does draw the line at you kissing their cheeks, those are reserved for him alone and he lets that be known as you are called into his office one day; the Shadows teasing your fading form from the field as you turn around and give them all the bird while shaking your head; blushing slightly

↳ They all do come and look for you afterwards, just to make sure that you are alright, some even apologizing while looking down at their combat boots, you can't help but accept when they act like a puppy with theirs tails tucked between their legs; wide eyes pleading for forgiveness

↳ The more time you hang out with the Shadows the more they see you like a mother (with Graves as the father, of course).

↳ "Yup, Yup Ma'am/Sir" is always echoed after as they look up at you with bright eyes; holding on to your every word

↳ When Laswell and 141 come back for another joint mission; they are all a bit freaked out over how protective everyone on base has become of you... Shadows glaring at the group as if afraid that they were going to take you away from them.... You wave a hand in their face and laugh, explaining that you all have a connection to one another now, mom and dad more together in business

↳ They nod theirs heads still a bit concerned and confused as they follow you into a new hanger you were designing, a few Shadows watch over you as you give the tour; just to be extra safe

↳ These Shadows soon get told off back to work at there stations os your partner comes over and takes their place by your side, once again he walks with the group with his hand on the small of your back

↳ On the very slim, almost impossible chance that Graves allows you to join him and his Shadows on an off-base mission; the soldiers are always in your moving shadow; guarding your every step, watching your every move. It feels slightly overwhelming at first yet you know that your partner sent them with good intentions- to keep you safe and the Shadows definitely agreed with these protective measures

↳ Most of the time through when they are off on missions, you are kept on home-base, headset dialed in to their radios as you listen to your partner give orders, you find it hard concentrating on anything else

↳ It becomes extra hard to listen to the stories of their travels as you watch their commander move and congratulate them all for a successful mission; smacking the tops of their helmets, rubbing a shoulder, patting a knee while in his full kit; decked out to the nines in all black- your throat becoming dry and your cheeks heat up while looking upon his dishevelled hair as he removes the helmet- giving you a wink in the process

↳ Some Shadows hoot and holler at this noticeable interaction while others groan and complain to be silence by a Graves Glare TM

↳ You had made sure to prepare extra good food and snacks for them all once they return, heaven forbid someone does not... you grieve hard for the next few weeks as both commander and shadows panic at your distressed state

↳ Yet as time moves on, they find various ways of cheering you up, Shadows surprise you with your favorite coffee that their commander mentioned once while on deployment, listen to you rant about your other job and you receive small sticky-notes of kind words and pictures that you don't remember leaving on your desk before

↳ You end up always wearing the Shadow Company patch somewhere on your person, from a cap, to a borrowed jacket or bottoms; feeling a sense of comfort while wearing the patch. You have all these pieces of miss-matched uniforms that Graves loves seeing you in- pride flowing through his chest and upwards to the curves of his smile while looking down at your form

↳ The Shadows love how invested you are in each one of them, now if you do not show up one day... or don't end up showing up for months; they becoming a little extra restless, reckless on missions and during training, alongside start asking way too many questions to their commander about you that Graves eventually snaps

↳ Addressing the crowd he tells them that you both are planning to have a child together...

╰┈➤ A/N: Hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it, never had so much fun writing something recently than I did this.

A Shadow Company Visit Series (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) you are here

[the-whispers-of-death]

The Middle: The Creation of Simon "Ghost" Riley

The Beginning, Part 1 of The Middle, Part 2 of The Middle, Part 3 of The Middle CW: Allusions to Simon "Ghost" Riley's backstory but nothing is written graphically. The most yearny/romantic part is really when he's at his family's graves, so feel free to skip down to it if need be.

**

When Life, your partner in balancing out the universe, told you after aeons together in the realm where only you two resided that he was going to take on a mortal form and live among the mortals, you were confused. You didn't understand why he wanted to live among the mortals, but you supposed that his love of creation and what he had created drove him to this decision and as Death, you were never going to understand it.

So you watched with a heavy heart, which you concealed, as he sent his soul down into a fetus that was still developing in its mother's womb, having not yet developed into a soul which was why his could reside in the developing form. You watched as that fetus grew into a baby, into Life's new form.

He was born as Simon Riley, the firstborn of what would be two sons.

As years went by, you watched every horrid moment of Simon's childhood, unable to interfere and Simon refused to let the mortal form go. Every time you stood in the shadows and he was able to speak, he told you that suffering was something every mortal experienced, the form of suffering just changed from mortal to mortal.

So you watched, and watched. It was all you could do, every time Mr. Riley was a horrible person to his wife and sons, you could not kill him. You were only meant to guide the souls of the dead to the realms of the dead and ensure they stayed there.

Life—Simon—was the one who could kill beings, mortal or immortal, but even then, he couldn't kill willy nilly. It had to be timed most of the time, so for every soul that died, a new one was created. He saw who could die when and where without unbalancing the universe, and he made sure to tell you every time you felt like killing his father that the time wasn't right.

More years passed by, Simon eventually feeling a calling to the military and enlisting when he was in his twenties. He found that being in the military helped immensely with his duties as Life, able to protect those who weren't yet to die and also able to send the fatal blow to those that were destined to die at that moment. Everything seemed fine and well.

Until Roba.

Your heart hurt to see Simon's mortal form be broken and reset in the most painful ways, ways that would surely kill someone who wasn't actually a powerful being. You were fortunate—yet also unfortunate—that you didn't have to be there all the time while Simon was with Roba.

You were pulled away every so often to guide souls that died to their afterlives, four of them unfortunately being Simon's mother, brother, sister-in-law, and nephew. Since you knew he held sentiments for all of them, you took even extra care with their souls.

Simon eventually escaped Roba's clutches, though with it guaranteeing him to be seen as legally dead, and after he hunted down everyone in the organization, he finally found out what happened to his family.

He was standing in front of their graves, bitter and a shell of the mortal man everyone knew. But he was still Life, you could still feel the bright power signature that only you and the celestial beings could detect.

"You'll stay with me, won't you?" Simon asked when he felt your own power signature in the shadows, his voice—for a lack of a better word—sounded lifeless. His brown eyes stared blankly at the graves, he probably wouldn't be okay for a while.

You shifted on your feet until the mortal form you had taken on for the day could be seen from the shadows just a little bit. You nodded and said, "We've spent aeons together, Life. I'm here with you for the rest of time." You paused. "I'm only sorry I couldn't stop what was happening."

Simon would've laughed or smiled if he had the energy to do so because you were always so endearing to him. "Don't be sorry. It was meant to happen."

Another thing that Simon could see besides who was meant to die and when, was that he could see what events could be changed and what events not even him could interfere with.

"Does this mean you're keeping this mortal form?" You asked, frowning at the thought.

Didn't he already see enough to lose his sense of love for creation and life? How much more suffering could he take? How much more suffering could you take to see him in?

It was selfish, you knew it. But your soul yearned for him. It was why you spent most of your time watching him, you needed his presence, needed to feel his power signature settling besides yours. Every time you were pulled away to guide dead souls, you ached to return to him.

You longed for the days when you two would enjoy being in your home realm together, just the two of you.

"Death," he said, pulling you away from your thoughts. He turned his head to the side to lock eyes with you. "Know that I relish being in your presence too, but I cannot abandon this life. It's not Simon "Ghost" Riley's time yet, which is why I want you to still be by my side. With you by my side as always, I can see a future in which I can heal."

You nodded, understanding him. There was no doubt in your mind that you'd stay with him even if it meant being in the shadows for most of the days. You couldn't fathom abandoning him.

Your mind processed what he said. "Ghost?" You had never heard him being referred to such, but it seemed to be something the military gave him.

Ghost nodded. "It's my callsign, and I quite like it. Simon Riley is dead in the eyes of the law. Ghost... Ghost is all that's currently left."

"I see... Ghost," you replied, getting used to calling him "Ghost". You called him by whatever name he preferred.

"Perhaps, while you watch me from the shadows, you can think upon fully joining me in the mortal realm. You could finally have a constant mortal form."

"Don't get any ideas, Ghost."

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

[raidenssblog]

Umm hello there! I hope you are having an excellent day / night! If it's possible may I request headcanons for the hashiras seeing reader as an older sibling figure (if it's possible all of them if not that's alright!)?? Please and thank you! ^^

No ofc it's ok, I've and 0 motivation for like 3 months and I hate it sm 😭😭

older brother

Pairing: hashira's X male reader (platonic)

Genre: angst and fluff

Warnings: none

Summary: headcannons for the hashiras having a older brother figure.

Rengoku

Ok first he really badly want to help you, because yk he's used to helping people rather than getting helped.

he will admire you, no matter what you do. Cooks a good meal, complements till dawn. If your a Slayer and your training your fighting style, nothing will spill from his mouth but praise.

If your not a Slayer and your just doing house chores or helping out he will barge in and try to 'take the weight' off of your shoulders.

If he sees you as a older brother Senjuro definitely will.

Will Intrust you too look after Senjuro and his father if he ever passes and takes you over to his place atlease once a week for a family diner.

He does cry to you some nights but it's rare, or when he dosent want to visit his mother's grave alone and asked you to join him.

If his father ever got aggressive he so happy to have you stand up against his father. Sure he can without problems but hes just so tired of it.

All in all, he trusts his life to you and welcomes you with open arms if you ever need help yourself.

Shinobu

Now, she is quite different from rengoku.

She sees more of a very close friend rather than close family for a while.

She does tend to your need tho. If you need water, medicine, help with the house she'll help you with out a second thought.

She holds a deep trust with you, something she tries not to do with many people.

When you help her with her problems it did spark up a few things within the woman.

Over time she does warm up to you and one thing leads to another she's on the verge of tears on a roof top letting all her bottled up stress out.

It's been so long since she shared her inner feelings with someone but God did it feel good.

She comes to you more often now and ever so slowly views you as family. She trusts you and rants about her day or her problems as your cooking dinner for the butterfly girls and the injured.

Muichiro

He never really remembers when you showed up in his life but he knows you've been in it for a while.

You really the only thing/one he doesn't forget about, he knows the little things about you such as your dislikes and hobbies, favourite colour things like that.

He really only remembers you as family so all together he just says your his older brother and moves on.

Because of his forgetful nature he dosent bring you up, like at all, unless he's asked.

"hey muichiro, who's that guy you were talking to before?" "My brother" "you have a brother! why didn't you tell us!?" "you never asked?"

Nothing really goes one between you two, of course you have days when Muichiro feels really of and y'all just cuddle up out side in the grass and hair, stare at the clouds.

He does help you cook and clean the house, and does come to you if he has any concerns or problems he dosent want people to know about.

Sanemi

It takes FOREVER to get this motherfucker to actually commit to even talking to you.

I mean come on, have you see how he treats his real brother???

Not saying that he would never warm up to you, bro just has issues, it'll take some time for him to semi trust you

Oh but he really can't escape your loving and kind nature *he need some colour in his life, ifykyk I'm so funny*

He would still give the stand offish vibe but in reality he hasn't had anyone to look after him, like at all.

He gradually gets use to the feeling and ends up seeing you as a equal to him.

Once fully trusted he rants about EVERYTHING. Bro can go on for hours about how giyuu was just breathing near him and how he wanted to punch tf out of him

Sometimes talks to you about the past or some future plans if muzan gets killed.

Cooks ohagi together very often and yall eat it together under a tree or after training.

You did catch onto his suicidal action and quicky slapped him out of it. Because of that day he tends to think things through a bit more. Key word *bit*

Obanai

Now, where should we start.

He's worse than sanemi, like by many miles.

He will NOT make any attempts to talk to you, even if you said something first.

The only reason he does put up with talking to you is because of mitsuri...

Took you a minimum of 6 months to get obanai to like you enough to spark up conversations.

Took you even longer to get him to trust you enough for him to talk about his scars, don't even worry about showing you.

Bro told you and ditched after you asked to see them. It's not he fact that he dosent like you, it's the fact that he can't trust people except mitsuri obviously.

After about a year or so he finally showed you his scars, and the first time he cried Infront of someone.

He now, like sanemi, rants about everything and anything to you. Weather it will be about giyuu, the water being too cold, a bad mission ect

He trusts you enough to break down Infront of you, tell his deepest secrets too yk stuff he wouldn't be caught dead doing.

Still cold to you but in a softer way, and yes, there is still hash remarks for him.

Kaburamaru also likes you, sliding up onto your shoulders and staying there while obanai baths or cooks.

Giyuu

At first he was warned by the fact that you actually cared, but something in the back of his mind said that you were just playing him like the rest

Bro has mad trust issues

Anyway, when you invite him over for some tea every now and again he starts talking more, starts smiling after and while and eventually let out a full laugh once.

He sees you as a anchor for himself, keeping his heavy thoughts away with your way if words.

Your so nice to him to the point he actually forgets your not related by blood.

It's been so long since he's had a safe place in someone's arms, so long since he talked about his inner feeling. So long since his mind got rid of the though of sabito and his sister dying.

He does cry just not as much as you would expect, giyuu mourns more than crying but everyone breaks right?

He makes sure you know that you mean alot to him by making you foods or drinks, cleaning your house, washing your clothes ect. Anything to help you out a bit.

He makes sure to protect you for any and all threats and will give his life for you, you helped him through so much and he adores and looks up to you as family, he can only repay it.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

I'm sorry half of these are crappy. I dropped so much in followers like omg😭😭

[philtstone]

your choice of Fellowship members, 17

#17 -- "San Fransisco", The Mowgli's I've been in love with love and the idea of, Something binding us together, You know that love is strong enough :')

For all that Sam has only just traversed half of Middle Earth and faced unspeakable horrors, there is still a small part of him, which he is sure many a self-respecting Hobbit would be proud of, that feels wholly out of sorts at an event of Men so grand as this.

The food at Aragorn's coronation feast is right delicious, though. This does make Sam feel very confirmed in his choice of friends.

"I don't think they'll do it," comes Pippin's voice, while Sam finishes the last of his ale and happily digs into a very flavourful sweet potato pie, "there's too many people watchin'. And her father's right there and everything."

"I'll bet you half of Gimli's best pipeweed,” says Merry, “in ten minutes -- alright, fifteen -- they’ll be off. Go on, look at their faces, Pip."

"Bet on your own pipeweed," grumbles Gimli, rather more loudly than might be advisable. "And nae, they'll last another twenty yet. These elf types are made of unnaturally strong stuff, I've come to find."

"You're only saving the pipeweed because you are afraid of losing it to me," says Legolas calmly. "As I am correct in thinking they shan't last five."

Sam watches as Gimli takes back his compliment, and Legolas's flagon of ale, with great ceremony. Legolas is handed a second, unscathed flagon immediately by Pippin, who seems to have produced it out of thin air.

Amongst all the everything else, Sam has to admit there's something relieving about being able to simply sit in companionable tomfoolery with his old friends. There is still loss, lingering around them, but it doesn't hurt so -- certainly not at a time like this, when joy ripples through the room like a bubbling brook, carried by most everyone in the court but none so effortlessly as Aragorn himself, whose face -- ever grave, often warm in Sam's memory -- is transformed completely into a beacon of radiant, cloudless laughter.

Beside him, almost literally glowing with her own happiness, is Lady Arwen.

Throughout the former half of the day, Aragorn had admirably devoted his attention to any and all who required it, with a forward sincerity that no one could question. It’s by now late evening, and the King and his lady have spent the day standing closer and closer to one another until now they are all but bound at the hip like lovers (which Sam supposes with a little private nod to himself they are), sat at the great table at the front of the room (most folk are too caught up in their own celebrating to notice anymore), arm in arm (like black-eyed Susans wrapped ‘round each other!), and with their heads bowed such that their cheeks almost touch but not so much that the whole hall can’t see their delighted, whisper-y, intimate laughter. 

They’ve been at it for nearly an hour by now. It’s a little hard to tell whose robe starts where. Sam’s sure that were this any other time and place, there'd be a lot of tongues wagging about propriety and such.

Then again, Sam doesn't know much about propriety when it comes to Men and Elves, does he? 

“I’m telling you,” says Merry. “Fifteen more minutes, and then we’ll look over, and they’ve snuck off.”

“No, no,” says Pippin, wiping importantly at his froth mustache; they are, Sam’s got to admit, all a bit in their cups. “They’re too much in their own world. I don’t think it’ll occur to them to do it.”

“Five,” says Legolas primly. “The people are reveling and Lord Elrond looks pleased.”

“He’s looking pleased at the wall all the way over there,” says Gimli, stifling a dignified burp. He passes Legolas the ale again, who takes it and finishes it off, “which is well enough, I’d agree, but dear Pippin makes a good point.”

“Why thank you, Gimli.”

“What do you think, Frodo?” asks Merry, crossing his arms in a preemptive triumph.

They all look over; Frodo’s been more quiet than any of the rest of them all evening, which is to be expected these days. Sam thinks this with a sharp ache in his heart. Merry and Pippin and Gimli, alongside many others, have loosened their proverbial neckties and rumpled themselves the way grand feasts ought to rumple you; even Legolas has hairs sitting the wrong way on his head. Save the scarf Pippin lent an hour ago for additional warmth, Frodo looks just as he was early this morning: clean and tired, and occasionally with a small smile on his face whenever he looks upon his friends. For Merry's question he does not have a smile, and takes a long moment to answer, and Sam worries that perhaps in their own enjoyment they’ve left him too long to be caught in his own head and heartache – on a night like this! – and the thought carries with it a sort of sadness that a Sam of only a year ago wouldn’t have thought possible.  

Then Frodo says,

“The real question we ought to be asking, Merry, is — how much do we think Aragorn has had to drink?”

And he isn’t his old self, to be sure, but he’s got a little sparkle of mischief in his eye that gets Sam grinning a big old grin.

The collective begins muttering contemplatively amongst themselves quite immediately.

“Now that is a good question,” says Merry. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him have more’n a cup,” opines Gimli. “Now, Legolas — Legolas --" (He reaches an arm over to swat at the elf) "you've known him longer than the rest of us --"

“Hmmmm,” is all Legolas says, deep in a consternated focus, looking with such drunken intensity at the king that Sam thinks it’s a miracle Aragorn doesn’t notice.

Or maybe he does, and is just ignoring them.

“He does seem awful giggly-like,” says Pippin, drawing his chin back with wide eyes and a voice tinged with a bit of awe, “that’s right enough.”

Even Sam finds himself seriously considering Frodo's question.

Then,

“He has had barely a drop,” interrupts a sudden, sonorous voice, and the group of them startles sharply. There, of course, is Gandalf: appeared robed and overall perfectly put together behind their table, sucking serenely on his pipe where he stands tall above them, “for the King's attention has been elsewhere; what you are observing is simply the effects of being in love.”

His eyes twinkle with the same mischief Frodo's held.

“Or,” Gandalf adds slowly, “indeed, what you are not observing.”

He nods with significance, and Sam turns back to see a thoroughly empty pair of seats.

“Oh!” exclaims Pippin.

“How long’s it been?” demands Merry.

"I cannot see them!" cries Legolas.

“Oh, not four minutes,” says Gandalf gravely, and Legolas makes a dismayed face.

“But a moment off!” he laments.

“So I suppose not a single one of you may claim Glimli's good pipeweed,” Gandalf informs them. He blows a perfectly shaped smoke ring towards Merry, who sighs with yearning; Pippin is still looking around the room open-mouthed with surprise. “Now, if you might excuse me, I must go meddle in some affairs,” says Gandalf.

He sweeps away, towards the other far corner of the hall, where between the dancers Faramir stands shooting looks (Sam's sure he himself has had such looks in the past) at a resplendent (if slightly red cheeked) White Lady of Rohan.

Sam sits back in his seat. It's true, all in all: Aragorn and Arwen really are nowhere to be found. Lord Elrond, Sam notices, continues to look very determinedly at that wall, but with a happy sort of expression on his face.

Sam's seen just enough of the world to figure when how some elves are feeling, at least.

"He could've come said goodnight," says Merry, sounding slightly put out.

"Ach," says Gimli, with a surety that's very characteristic of him, yes, but terribly comforting all the same. "We'll see him again tomorrow."

And the simple truth of it, Sam thinks -- if just for now -- might be the greatest relief they've all felt in some time.

He looks towards Frodo; he has a hand held over his mouth, and is working very hard to smother his laughter. With another private nod to himself, Sam digs back into his potato pie.

“So …” begins Pippin's voice again after a moment, emerging from the cheerful bustle and chatter around them. “How long do we think, 'til Faramir and Eowyn sneak off?"

[lovelylogans]

the parent trap

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: the concorde(ance)

A goodbye, a hello.

⁂

Everyone’s been very quiet.

The gloom of the rare, rainy California day—so like and yet unlike the day Roman and Remus discovered they were truly brothers—seems to have settled in a grave, suppressive pall of silence over the Jameses. 

Dad reaches over to hold Uncle Logan’s hand in both of his during takeoff; Uncle Logan clings back just as tightly. Roman clutches at his Dad’s arm, trying to help where he can, hoping that—

But no. There’s no sudden stop, no reason for them to go off the runway, barely even a delay for the weather. They lift off.

They leave.

And the shock of leaving them seems to settle in fullness over Roman, leaving him trapped in a dull stupor. He sets his chin on his hand, elbow propped up on the armrest, and stares sightlessly out of the plane window.

It didn’t work. Operation Augustus. It didn’t work.

It’s all he can think about.

Was there something he could have done to make it work? 

Do something like lock them in a closet at the hotel? But no—they had both been so shocked at seeing one another again, that could have backfired so easily.

Insist on them going on some kind of moonlit horse ride through the vineyard? Dad would have seen through him immediately—and Pa had wanted to go to bed early, citing a very long day—

Pretend to lose his passport? No, that certainly wouldn’t have worked—Dad and Uncle Logan would have been so distracted by the notion that any semblance of romance would have been set aside for the importance of international identification.

Had he been too harsh on Maddox? Too over-the-top with the boat date? 

It didn’t work. Roman had to have done something wrong, but what?!

Not staying at Pa’s—no breakfast by Virgil in the mornings, who ruffles his hair and tells him to eat up, no Sprout or Sammy, no vast green vineyard to greet him at the bedroom window, no warm bright sun and lush fields and blue skies.

No Virgil, who scolds him fondly, stands leaning in doorways dressed in his flannels with his arms crossed, smiling and yet still a bit grumpy, with his special treats at almost every turn.

And Papa—who Roman’s wanted to know all his life, who he’s just started to bond with as him and not as Remus, the sort of man who’d written Roman letters just because he missed him, who had cried from happiness at realizing he was Roman and cuddled him on the couch and taught him about California wildlife and snuck them s’mores even when he was upset and—and his Pa.

And Remus, gone—no more sitting together at meals, or pushing their beds together late at night, or intimidating everyone away from the task they want to do—two weeks spent terrorizing each other and six spending practically every sleeping and waking moment together, the way they might have done all their lives.

What did Roman do?

Roman, staring out the window still—his vision obscured by blindingly white clouds—is suddenly aware of his eyes spilling over.

He clears his throat as softly as he can and, as subtly as he can, he reaches up with his finger and wipes away a tear.

Thanksgiving, he promised, Roman thinks, attempting to will himself into getting a stiff upper lip. He promised. I’ll see him and Remus again, in hardly any time at all. 

There’s an odd sound happening. A sort of muffled shh-shh-shh, but not the sort of sound made by a person.

He turns his head.

Uncle Logan has his hand on Dad’s back, rubbing his thumb back and forth every so often; the source of the shh-shh-shh susurrus. 

His Dad is fiddling with his necklace, biting the inside of his cheek, staring down at the airplane serving tray.

“Oh, Dad,” Roman says softly, and he leans against his father as Uncle Logan wraps an arm about Dad’s shoulders, also staring down at his feet.

And so father, cousin, and son sit, hushed in their own miserable little worlds, as the globe keeps turning and the earth flies by.

⁂

What with the emotional turmoil and the awfulness of planes and the incoming jet lag, it’s safe to say that Seven Pembroke Lane is a very comforting sight indeed.

At least, it is to Janus, who will hug his Father hello, go upstairs, slip into his silkiest, comfiest pajamas, smoke the last of his Parliaments, and soundly sleep until morning.

Or at least he will try to sleep. If he isn’t kept up by thoughts of five o’clock shadow rough against his cheek, big, calloused hands in his, the latest laugh lines around his eyes…

Stop, Janus tells himself. But it’s no use.

He can never quite bring himself to stop thinking of Patton completely.

The car rolls to a stop; Roman practically flings himself in the street in his haste to get inside, only for Logan to hastily hurry after him, put a hand on his shoulder, and steer him round to collect his luggage from the boot.

They all shuffle inside, Logan hastily gathering coats to hang to avoid any spare droplets hitting the hardwood.

“Hello?” Janus calls out. “Father? We’re home.”

“Grandfather?” Roman’s voice echoes throughout the house, and Janus absently pats his shoulder.

“I’ll check the study, darling.”

He ambles forward as Roman slouches on the nearest couch, looking deeply dissatisfied at the world in general.

He’ll buck up soon. Janus hopes.

He smiles at a familiar sight; a newspaper obscuring any semblance of a face.

“Hey there. I hope you haven’t gotten the house all smoky while we were away.”

The newspaper is laid down. Janus gapes at the sight.

It’s the face of his son, beaming, a gray streak in his hair, silver-and-green studs in his ears—but Roman’s just behind him—so that means—

Janus clutches at the door frame, suddenly doubting his ability to stand.

“Hey, Dad,” Remus it’s Remus he’s here, “Did you know that the Concorde gets you here in half the time?”

“I’d heard that,” Janus says faintly.

And then there’s the sound of rapid feet behind him, and he sees enough of the blur to see Roman, open-mouthed and laughing in disbelief.

“Remus!”

“Roman!” 

And the boys collide into each other with such force that they both collapse on the Persian rug, clutching each other tightly and babbling over each other.

“What are you doing here—?!”

“—should’ve seen the looks on your faces—”

“—but we left before you—!”

“—well, it took us around 30 seconds after you all left for us to realize we didn’t want to lose you two again—”

“Sorry,” Janus says. “We?”

And then through the door to the parlor, out steps the man whose face has taken up permanent residency in Janus’s mind over the past eleven years. Brown jacket, hair mussed, five-o’clock shadow, laugh lines and all.

“We,” Patton says softly.

As if on cue, there’s a shout of shock and then a cry of joy from the kitchen—surely the third James has found his match.

“See,” Patton says. “I made the mistake of not coming after you once, Janus. I’m not going to do that again.”

Janus swallows, licks his lips, and flails desperately for some kind of decorum.

“And I suppose you just expect me to go weak at the knees and fall into your arms and cry hysterically and say, ‘We'll just figure this whole thing out.’ A bicontinental relationship with our sons being raised here and... and there and…”

Janus gulps. All the while, Patton is walking toward him, slowly. Oh so slowly.

“And you and I just picking up where we left off and... and growing old together and…” Janus falters.

Patton is close enough to touch now. Decorum has fled his mind completely.

“And…”

Janus swallows. Patton’s big, calloused hands cup his face, just as warm and rough as he remembers. 

“Come on, Patton, what do you expect? To live happily ever after?” He tries to say it derisively.

It comes out desperately.

“Yes,” Patton says, his voice soft. “To all of it. Yes. Except no crying. No more tears.”

“Not even happy ones?” Janus says, and Patton smiles.

“I’ll make an exception for the happy ones.”

And Patton’s lips are against his.

And the rest of the world falls away.

The familiar feeling of those lips—soft, ever so slightly chapped—and their lips move together like they had once all those years ago, like picking up a waltz whose steps you thought you’d half-forgotten but it was never gone, not truly gone, the memory simply needed to be paired with the right partner…

His hands are on Patton’s broad, warm shoulders, those big calloused hands on his face feel just as he remembers, and Janus moves closer, closer, twining his fingers in Patton’s hair, soft and fluffy under his fingers, their chests pressed together, and there is only yes and finally and love you.

They part; Patton beaming, Janus smiling back at him, when they hear a little squeak.

They turn to see Roman, swooning with all the fervor of a hopeless romantic; Remus, looking about five milliseconds away from yelling “EW GROSS” at them both and heckling them mercilessly.

But Roman flings his arms tight around Remus’s neck, beaming.

“We actually did it!” Roman says, with a great squeal.

Patton chuckles, wrapping an arm around Janus’s shoulders. 

Janus decides fuck decorum and goes in for another kiss.

previous chapter | masterpost | next chapter

[theworldisquietheretooquiet]

Snow for Fingon lmao predictable but a classic

For the prompts

Thank you! :) I hope you were hinting you wanted angst because if not... sorry.

I went with Fingon getting trapped in an avalanche on the Helcaraxë. 742 words

Cw: claustrophobic situation, very brief allusions to suicidal ideation, mentions of violence

Findekáno is trapped beneath the snow.

It surrounds him on every side, and he cannot move. He is barely able to breathe with the tons of ice pressing down. The terrible weight of it is slowly crushing the life out of him; each breath takes more effort than the last.

When he had finally laid still, after tumbling over and over in the freezing darkness, he had screamed. And screamed. But he is silent now.

He doubts his voice could penetrate the packed snow he’s buried in and even then, it would have to compete with the howling wind. Screaming also wasted too much air and he knows he has very little left.

Not that it matters because the host is far behind him. He had gone ahead, as he did more and more often now, scouting the way. It made his father grimace, but Findekáno still went. They had lost too many to hidden holes in the ice to journey blind.

He refuses to think that no one will find him because they won’t be looking. Yes, his father and Ingoldo had made the decision to stop searching the snowslides for survivors. He’d agreed: one or two half-dead elves were not worth sacrificing dozens more who would go blue and silent and still waiting. But they will search for him. They must. He is Ñolofinwë’s eldest son, he has many loyal captains who will not easily give him up. They will come. He just has to stay awake until they do.

It is hard though. He is freezing, the ice is packed so close to him he thinks it is slowly sinking into his veins. His feet are numb, and he would not be sure he still had hands if he could not feel them, fixed in place by the immovable snow, to his sides.

Come on Findekáno. You will not die here, in this unknown, unmarked grave.

He must stay awake. He drags his scattered thoughts together and begins to play the game he and Arakáno devised for the long silent watches.

It is a reverse of the meaningless counting you do to encourage sleep; instead, it requires your mind to focus. Findekáno swallows and begins.

One thing he can see is snow. Two times the mist has descended on their camp since he last slept. Three sleds need their runners replacing. Four children are still part of his host. Five bodies are in their store. Six ice axes have broken.

There are black spots creeping into his vision. He is so cold.

Seven words Itarillë has uttered since Elenwë fell. Eight times Russandol smiled at him when they last spoke. Nine spare furs left. Ten times he has led Turukáno away from the edge of a cliff. Eleven under his command are currently injured. Twelve stairs up to his room in Tirion.

Is he fading in and out? He thinks his heartbeat is slowing.

Thirteen Teleri he stabbed in the back. Fourteen Teleri whose throats he pierced.  Fifteen braids his mother used to weave into his hair. Sixteen Teleri he ran through the chest. Seventeen times he has prayed for forgiveness. Eighteen oil skins he needs to give to Írissë. Nineteen washes it took to get the blood out from under his nails. Twenty…

Findekáno gasps for air as he comes to. It is chilled and sharp, and stings his throat, but he doesn’t care it feels so good. Everything hurts and his chest most of all. Turukáno is sitting on his knees beside him, breathing heavily with tears streaming down his face. When Findekáno meets his eyes, he turns away abruptly and stands up.

“Never do that again.”

Findekáno breathes in, then winces. “Turko, I think you broke my ribs.” His brother stares at him unblinking for a long moment, then walks away.

He groans and lies back against the snow, as his father takes Turukáno’s place and bends over him.

“My son, oh Findekáno. I cannot express how relieved I am to find you. We had begun to fear… It matters not, you are found, and you are fine. Well, you will be.”

Ñolofinwë carefully enfolds his son in an embrace and Findekáno holds on as tight as he can although he begins to shake violently. After a moment he is gently lifted onto a sled, and he reaches out and grasps his father’s hand.

“You looked for me.” He says.

Ñolofinwë smiles. “Of course we did.”

[iceiclehorned]

NAVIA — The Golden Ocean

I figured that, since I often take the time to delve into my other muses, that it is time to explore Navia’s character inside and out. However, what is written here may not follow her canon character to completion.

It was clear that from the time she was a little girl, becoming the leader of the Spina di Rosula was the one thing she was determined to become. Watching her father work so hard to help countless people, directing orders and remaining unwavering in his kindness, it had all resonated with her soul. Of course, her perception of that takeover would be through his retirement, eagerly awaiting for him to see what she was capable of as a grown woman. The adventures they would have in her mind made her smile, even as her blue eyes shimmered as they stared at the stars shooting across the dark skies at night.

However, that was not what fate had in mind. Or could it even be called fate? Her father’s passing was the hardest pill Navia had to swallow in her life at this point in time. The loss of somebody so significant had never truly been ingrained in her mind. She was aware that there would come a time where she would no longer have her father by her side, but why so soon? She had been so knocked off her feet that when it came to taking over responsibilities, she had gone in blindly. It came naturally — almost. It was difficult for her to be the leader she had wanted to be for her father in the beginning, taking brief time-outs to keep herself mentally together, all the while travelling across Fontaine in the hopes that nobody else had to go through that sense of damage and loss.

Playing the role that had been passed onto her, she found that it brought her closer to the memory of her dad. Although she blamed Clorinde for the death of her father, she had found solace in her position and grew to become the woman she is now, though rather dependant on Silver and Melus. With the two of them standing by her side, she had just barely managed to crawl out of the depths of her depression. It was thanks to them she had found the energy to enjoy day to day life once again. It was difficult to see Clorinde around town, but they had kept her steady. With frequent visits to his grave, she found herself at peace.

With the demise of her two closest companions came the truth of her father’s death. Again, death had knocked her sideways, just as hard as it had the first time around. It was unrealistic to expect one death to keep her from feeling just as pained in other cases, but the fact that they had died helping others? As well as herself? That was the hardest part for her to get over. Why couldn’t she be the one to protect her companions when they needed her the most? It wasn’t as if she completely blamed herself for everything that had happened, more that she couldn’t accept that she had been left all alone in the world.

With absolutely nobody by her side?

The Flooding of Fontaine had left many people devastated, so just as she had done before, Navia buried herself in her work, often going to her father’s grave to grieve the deaths of three dear souls. If it had been up to her, she would have gladly taken their places. But she was here, and grateful to witness Fontaine’s comeback. To feel the sunshine on her skin, keeping her warm in its embrace, ensuring that she is able to get through the day without bearing too much on her shoulders all at once. With that, her spark came back, along with her bright smile.

Now that she had discovered the truth, she was left to maintain the Spina di Rosula all on her own. It wasn’t as if she was incapable of doing it, but doing it all alone? This would be the first time she would not have anybody standing by her side wherever she went, and although she could function just as well without it, her mere existence craved that. With so much loss following her, it would be easy to assume that an anxious attachment style would arise from such trauma. Being alone would mean that trait would remain undiscovered, festering within her wounded heart until somebody came along and settled down beside her.

Even if she had perceived herself as completely ‘better’, she would never be her true self ever again. The result of the trauma would be mostly projected through romantic relationships, or through any future partners/companions she comes into contact with. Ensuring that they do not go too far from her own location, sending them to the safest of places where she knows no harm could occur. Constantly needing that contact, physical or otherwise. Although her heart is pure, this kind of behaviour, which may easily be perceived as ‘obsession’, could only damage relationships further down the road.

The blue-eyed, innate beauty had yet to discover the ins and outs of herself, so how could she be expected to have that knowledge to control her behavioural patterns? Can that fiery nature be tamed, collared before becoming a self-destructive habit? There is a good chance that it won’t, given her general self-aware nature behind closed doors, but that does not mean to say that a spiral of behaviour will not happen. Her soul screams for companionship, for some help — luckily, her newly found friendship with Clorinde helps, as well as the deeper bonds she has created with the other Fontaine citizens… but will it ever be enough?

[limpfisted]

sometimes i feel like there's a hole inside of me, an emptiness that at times seems to burn. OH OKAY

"Then fill it. And let me help." He shrugs his shoulders, gently takes his hands. "You are so much more than your pain, or any kind of lack in you. I see the man you are, the struggle, the hunger in your eyes, and yet the way you beg not for your own redemption, not for an unearned bandage on your own guilt---but just to help people, to lay gentle hands on the cuts you've torn, to mend hearts and minds... even when your own trembles so in fear of just your self. Perhaps you do not see it. Perhaps you do not have memories, and so you assume we have no memories of you. But I do. I see the way you stand between us and any danger. You--You defended me from Mizora. You tried to break my pact. And even more than that--you stood between us, twice. And for some reason, perhaps your strength in battle, perhaps that you had always done right by me---I believed you. I believed you could keep me safe, from a DEVIL that has tormented me for seven years, with no one to-...." He almost drops their hands, and after he almost pulls away, he squeezes them, tighter. "I felt safe behind you, like a black sheep cowering behind a lion."

"You push down your feelings, and yet, you are the bravest person I know with them. I have never heard someone say such mean, sarcastic things with so much joy," he chides, with a smile, teasing. "I have never heard such mean things be so funny. Even in your anger, there is an... honesty. An intimacy. Even when you suppress your feelings, shake and gasp and sweat with grief. That terrible struggle---it's one I understand, now, if only from when my soul was dragged through Hell. I see you fighting, the most noble, honorable fight---and I can not think of a warrior stronger. Your will is sharper than any blade, a tongue and muscles that tie and melt themselves hotter than a dragon's forge---and yet, even as I weep for you and wish you did not have to. I find myself admiring your skill for self-control."

"I have so many memories of you. And yet, if you have none of yourself---we shall make more."

"More memories than you can hold. More memories, every day, until you tire of me, until your teeth rot with sweet tales you can rock yourself to sleep with, a lullaby i give to you and you alone. No devil can stop me until you've gotten your fill of happiness and all the splendors of the Sword Coast. And Baldur's Gate. We are so close."

" I will take you to eat fish at the harbour, and we shall watch the sun set, though the yellows, orange, reds, I once thought were so perfect through the thick of the mist could never match the perfect warmth and darkness of your skin. I'll take you to the stables---and together, we'll ride gorgeous horses all around the Outer City. I'll show you the peacocks and the hawks---I'll teach you all I know about holding them and feeding them. My own trusty steed and feathered friend would have loved you---Prince and Charming, respectively, of course. We can go fishing, though I suppose my Father always said I was not the best at that. We can go gambling at the races, and watch the drunken Tymoran priests race even faster around the stadium, chased by unlucky gamblers."

" I'll take you to meet my Mother--and place flowers on her grave. Red roses. She was a bard, she told me to always remember the classics, the cliches are often based on beautiful truth, to bend and shape into gorgeous wreaths and braids and crowns. She would have loved your sharp tongue. She had one of your own, you see. You could both make fun of me and my Father's puns." What a fantasy. Wyll loves to roleplay, and loves still more to forget.

"We can see the fountains in the Upper City. The water is clean enough to drink and there's spouts for children to dance in. So beautiful, at night they gleam every color rainbow with alchemcy and candlelight. All the gorgeous shrines, so much history, so many cultures, all standing after more than two hundred years as one. The Wide! Oh, you must see the statue of Minsc, and Boo, my favorite heroes in all of history. The little hamster is so very darling, I begged my Father to get me one and then tried to run away from home and hunt one down when he said no. I'll tell you all about Minsc and Boo's adventures, and then we can watch a puppet show, and grown men and silly drunken teenagers whimper and cry as they get tattoos. We can buy more perfumes and lotions, and gifts for all our friends, and the swords. My Gods, by Balduran's bollocks, enough to make a man swoon with envy. The thought of an expensive rapier in your hand makes me swoon harder still."

" We can pick up dinner, on the way home. We'll use an old Ravengard family recipe--pot roast and veggies, and fry the fish to boot. Mm. And then we'll go to the park, together, where I used to play so many games of pretend, and we'll talk of all our legendary adventures, and all the legendary adventures to come."

"You deserve to feel more than sadness, mourning, grief. There is labour in atonement, yes. There is hard work in good."

"And yet, you deserve happiness, and joy, and rest, and perhaps love, if you are so kind as to want it from someone else. And if you like, if you are willing. You can find it here, in me."

Wyll takes Daemos's hands and places them on his too-warm beating chest. "If you do not have a heart, if you do not have memories, take my heart, and let us make new memories. Let us make new dawns, and dreams. I want you to wake up in the morning--and know that there is a world outside you."

"It wants you. It aches for you. It sings for you. The world, just as you, is not whole without you in it."

[galaxythixf]

@the1iars said: ❝ take my hand. ❞ Don't Remember || Accepting

They oblige with little hesitation, using her to support their climb up to the top of the hill, a dust off of their garments for a minute and then a lopsided grin. "So, what's it today?" The umpteenth time they've made it out of the castle to meet with her in the middle of the woods, away from wandering eyes of the townspeople but ironically perfectly set for those that lurk behind the foliage. Finlay showed an unusual lack of urgency in most fatal situations, a trait directly related to the gift they were born with. It's the royal family's secret, one they would take with them to the grave if they ever made it there in the first place. There was very little for them to fear when they knew their life was ten times that of any regular human and seemingly expendable. Carelessness came with the knowledge, they supposed.

Stuffy uniforms and prissy attire have been abandoned for fine velvets, still perfectly weighty in price despite them apparently dressing down. There's very little for them to choose from with their rather peculiar royal garments and velvets were about as plain as they got under linen shawl, not that it ever really saw the light of day anyway. It was their father that kept them from the public's eyes so often. It didn't surprise them that a majority of their people weren't even familiar with what their prince looked like due to their father's caution. It's partially what forced Finlay to seek out their troublemaking schemes, unable to stand being restricted to the same few walls day in and day out.

Monsters were the kingdom's latest call to action, raising the security just about everywhere the more people began to disappear. Swords were drawn, paranoia skyrocketed, and here Finlay was willingly putting themselves in the thick of it. Beware of the forests people warned, but what hadn't killed them yet probably wouldn't kill them now. Even they realize how dumb that sounds, and yet they're content with taking their chances. Adelaide has made it easier to settle into the idea that they're playing a rather stupid game because they're doing it together. "Reckon we could go by the lake, see what I can catch this time with my hands. If the slimy little fucks stop cheatin' I think I could finally get one this time." Always serious when it came to their shenanigans. "Oh! Almost forgot I snagged somethin' from the kitchen for ya." They dig in their pocket, tossing the candy her way. "Think it was for some event for the kids, but figured ya might wanna try it."

[mjrnl]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲 | 𝐗

SUMMARY: In the picturesque town of Esmeralda, Italy, a homeless girl named Fioria survives alone on the streets. Her life takes a turn when she discovers an abandoned castle hidden deep in the woods. Within its crumbling walls, she finds rare and beautiful Smeraldo flowers, which become her lifeline. However, as she tends to the flowers, Fioria stumbles upon a revelation that changes everything—an unexpected encounter with a mysterious boy with a mask. This serendipitous meeting intertwines their fates, revealing a past filled with pain, hope, and a bond that blossoms like the flowers she cherishes.

GENRE: romance, fantasy, angst (aka pain)

A/N: This is inspired by an Italian story about Smeraldo flowers—which is a fictitious flower, also an inspiration of BTS’ song “The Truth Untold.”

The old woman—Mrs. Marina—told me where Dante was buried; at San Cataldo Cemetery. She shared many stories about Dante, especially before he was diagnosed with a life-threatening illness. When I told her my name, she seemed to recognize it from a letter Dante wrote before he died. I asked her why he never sent the letter, and she explained that his father was very strict about sending and receiving letters from anyone outside their mansion. Hearing about how strict his parents were upset me.

I wore a black dress and a black hat as I stood by his grave, gripping the letter in my hand. Guilt consumed every part of my body, making me feel like I was the reason he was buried six feet under where I stood. 

I opened the letter once again, staring at his messy handwriting with the words slightly smudged, assuming the smudges of ink were caused by tears. It ached my heart as I shut my eyes tight, imagining him—dying—as he wrote his last letter to me. He was suffering and I was completely oblivious about it. I was also completely oblivious about the fact that he was the boy I met during my childhood and the one who saved me from the fire.

He told me he was insecure of his scars. He said he was ugly with it. Yet, he never blamed me for them. 

He never blamed me for the scars that almost cost him his life—saving mine.

I choked back a cry, fighting to keep myself from breaking down. He had saved me, but I couldn't save him. And worst of all, I had been oblivious to his inner turmoil. If only he had told me. If only he hadn’t been so afraid. If only he wasn’t such a coward.

If only I hadn’t forgotten about him.

My teary gaze shifted at the letter, reading them for the tenth time.

Fioria,

I’m weak—I’m growing weaker and weaker. I feel like my body’s slowly dissipating—withering away, just like flowers do when they’re not cared for. But I guess it’s part of nature. I’m not ready to die yet because I’m waiting for you. I believe you’ll come back. I know destiny will bring us back together again. I've never forgotten you since that day in the garden, but I understand if you've moved on. I don't blame you. 

I’m so sorry you had to see me like this. My face—I know they’re horrible, and I’m sorry. Can we be friends again? I miss you—terribly, but I don't think I can hold on much longer. I'll wait for you. Whatever happens lies in the hands of fate. Yet, I still hope for some serendipity to reunite us once more—even if it might be more catastrophic this time.

I didn’t notice how tightly I was gripping the paper until I heard it crumple, almost tearing it as droplets of tears fell onto its surface. I harshly wiped off the tears escaping my eyes with the back of my hand. Even on the letter—he’s still sorry. Sorry for what? Why does he keep blaming himself? 

"What the hell are you sorry for, silly?" I managed to say, my voice breaking as I stared at his gravestone. "I'm the one who should be sorry."

Mrs. Farina had also mentioned how Ilario would often stand by the window, sometimes for hours, staring out as if waiting for something or someone. When she asked him what he was looking at, he'd simply say he was waiting. She asked who or what he was waiting for, but he never gave an answer. He’d just stare outside with a longing expression on his face.

Sometimes she would hear him screaming and crying at night, and then the next day, he’d have a straight face, as if he hadn’t been breaking down the night before. It seemed like he had gone numb.

Mrs. Farina also mentioned that Ilario had always been a secretive person since he was small. He would often disappear somewhere, even sneaking out a few months before he was diagnosed with a severe illness. They never found out where he had been going, but he did mention it was a place where he felt safe.

He was talking about the treehouse and the ruined castle—and only he and I knew about it. I took out the small jar of seeds from my pocket. Mrs. Farina gave me this, saying it was among Ilario’s possessions, with the name “Fioria” written on it. The moment she asked my name, she immediately recognized me and thought about handing me the jar.

And when I grew one seed, it left me completely baffled to realize that he had given me all the Smeraldo seeds. So I decided to plant them back in the castle—in that very room that I considered home—the Smeraldo room.

I took care of the flowers, watering them every day and monitoring their growth. When they bloomed, I would pick one and visit Ilario’s grave every week to place it there. During these visits, I would talk about how my week had been. But despite my efforts, guilt and pain still plague me every day—I don’t think I can ever fully recover from it. Every night, it crawls under my skin. Whenever I think of him, I can’t help but hate myself—for making him hate himself.

I was the reason he felt so insecure. If only he hadn't saved me in that accident, he wouldn't have been hurt and scarred his face.

What devastates me the most is that he never blamed me for it.

And I hate him for that.

I heaved a deep sigh, feeling the cold breeze against my bare skin as I placed the Smeraldo flower on his grave.

"I hope you can forgive me, Ilario. I'm so sorry," I whispered softly, a tear escaping from the corner of my eye. "May you find the peace you deserve."

chapters: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten

[dark-dracari]

Chapter 1: Enter the Vantage

Note: the full story is 18+ and is mostly explicit. Mind any tags and read at your own risk.

Slavers stole Quest from his family and dragged him across miles of dead land to the kingdom of Ilsonath. Quest expects to live a desolate life in captivity after being sold to the highest bidder, but then things don't go as his captors planned.

Tags: sfw

By the time the Desolation's chokehold on the desert began to loosen, very few creatures remained. Most of what little life previously existed had been snuffed out or driven away by the storms, and even fewer beings dared to return. For those who did return, times quickly grew desperate as groups competed for resources that no longer existed, and while several places coped by banding together as they rebuilt, there were also a number of groups that took advantage of the chaos.

Quest lived with his family just north of the old kingdom of Ilsonath. His adoptive parents and three siblings managed to scrape together a decent living among the rocks. Traders weren't common, but they did pass through from time to time and while prey wasn't plentiful, they were surviving well enough.

Unfortunately, "well enough" was enough to make them a target for the lesser creatures of the world.

When the bandits attacked, they did so swiftly and viciously and his world erupted into a confusing mess of blood and shouting. Though nearly crippled, his father was fast, and though quiet, his parent was a strong fighter. Quest's siblings were also strong and fierce.

Quest didn't see what became of them.

When the bloodbath began, Quest was ambushed and dragged away from the fight before he could even think of retaliating. He was dragged through the night and taken to a rough camp where he was put with a number of other unfortunate souls who'd fallen victim to the group's brutality.

None of it made sense to him, and he begged to be let go. In response, he was beaten within an inch of his life for the first time.

The group was a gang of bandits, but they were also slavers. They seemed to specifically target kwell, which made sense since mixed beings were often rejected by both sides of their lineage. The fact that Quest's siblings weren't taken with him made him think the worst, but he had no proof either way and tried to hold onto hope.

Then again, maybe it was for the best that they perished that night.

The kwell his captors kept were weak and stared with hollow eyes, their spirits having been broken long before Quest arrived.

Being the newcomer, Quest was the next to be broken. Over the next few weeks, he was beaten and violated and abused until he stopped fighting it. It was easier, safer to submit, to give in, to let his captors do what they wished to him.

He didn't care anymore. It hurt less when he didn't care.

Still, he felt afraid when he realized he and the other captives were being taken south to the new kingdom of Ilsonath.

More specifically, they were being taken to the capitol city and would most likely be sold to the nobles or even the queen herself.

Though he and his family lived outside the kingdom's borders, Quest had heard of her.

She was known as the Dragon of the Southern Wastes, the Queen of the Desert, the Desolate Sun. Rumors had spread among the wandering traders and vagabonds, telling of how Solaris came up out of the desert and claimed the ruins of the old fallen kingdom and was rebuilding it.

Supposedly, she was as ancient as she was powerful, carving her kingdom from the rock with her own claws, molding the pillars of her castle with her own magic. All who lived there before either fled or bowed beneath their new queen. Those who refused to do either were allowed to live just long enough for their screams to be heard throughout the land, a grave warning to any who considered standing against the new order.

By the time the group actually arrived, Quest was nearly as broken as the rest of them. At that point, there were six of them. Quest didn't know their names or histories since they would be punished if they spoke at all. There were seven when he was first taken, but one of the smaller ones got bought just outside of the territory.

When his group arrived, Quest was torn between hopelessness and terror at what his future might hold. No one stopped them at the border, but the residents knew the slaver group was there. Every now and then, Quest noticed dracari flying high overhead, circling like a vulture.

It wasn't exactly an encouraging sight.

And yet, as he was led up a series of pale stone steps and then up to a courtyard flanked by grasses and ferns, he could still appreciate its beauty. He couldn't recall the last time he'd seen a place so lush, and he might've cried if he weren't so dehydrated.

To one side, there was a great marble arch, and he and the other enslaved kwell were lined up to wait. A few moments later, two dracari appeared, one short and one tall. The shorter one spoke quietly to the slavers while the tall one walked up and down the line, perusing the selection. Her eyes were cold and scrutinizing, looking each one up and down before moving on to the next.

The selection wasn't great. After enduring so much travel and abuse, all of the enslaved kwell were starving, dehydrated, and exhausted. Most were injured or sick in some way, riddled with infection from uncleaned wounds or displaying twisted features where broken bones healed wrong.

The dracari paced along the line twice before rejoining her companion. She leaned down to whisper something into his ear.

She looked to the slavers. She said nothing.

Then she struck like a snake. Her teeth met in the slaver's throat, and before he could react, she heaved backwards.

His blood spattered the ground at her feet.

The enslaved and their remaining slavers stared in shock, but she wasn't done. As soon as her prey lay gurgling his life away, she spun around and lunged for the next slaver.

Carnage ensued. None of the slaves moved, too stunned or too broken to even try to run as the dracari made short work of the remaining slavers. When the courtyard was stained red with the blood of Quest's captors, the shorter dracari addressed the slaves.

"I was told you all understand ilsoni," he said. "But if you don't, you can be taught. I apologize for the bloody display, but we here in Ilsonath and the Vantage value quality and care, and it is rather obvious that your..." he paused, glancing at the bloody remains. "Former employers have not shown you either. But that's not important anymore!" He clapped his hands together, and a few kwell jumped in alarm. "Congratulations! From here on out, you are free."

No one moved from their place in line. A few looked around with dead eyes, but most just stayed where they were.

The dracari cleared his throat, his expression disappointed, but sympathetic. "Right. Well, any who wish to are free to leave. You may go anywhere you wish, and you won't be stopped or followed. However, if you're interested in what Ilsonath might offer you, please follow me."

He headed back through the arch, and the enslaved kwell followed obediently. There was little celebration over the death of their former masters, though Quest felt a little satisfaction seeing them be torn apart.

Despite the bloody display and pretty words, the enslaved kwell were well-broken and followed the shorter dracari without question or comment.

After all, new masters meant change, but not necessarily for the better. Quest had only been owned by the slavers who took him, but even he knew that.

Though Quest couldn't help but be tentatively hopeful as he glanced around. They were led into another sort of courtyard, but this one was mostly grass. Bushes ripe with summer berries and trees heavy with fruit lined the path and water moved somewhere nearby.

As hopeful as their initial welcome was, it didn't look like the little group of slaves were actually welcome. A few Vantage residents paused to watch the sad procession, and none looked happy about it. Expressions ranged from frustration to outright anger, and more than a few were whispering to their companions.

There were a lot of possible reasons for the distaste the locals seemed to feel, but Quest didn't bother trying to figure it out. Either way, it wasn't an encouraging sign.

He had no idea what to think when his group were finally led to a large dome-shaped building. The leading dracari pushed open the double doors and ushered them inside, and all six nearly stopped walking the moment they saw inside.

The room was filled with a small crowd of slaves.

There were at least fifty of them, though it was hard to tell. None spoke or dared to move, dead eyes watching as Quest's group was herded inside.

"I'm sure you're tired and thirsty from your travels," the dracari said as he loitered by the door. His eyes scanned the crowd as he spoke, and though he continued to smile, his tone lost some of its jovial energy. "It's close to mealtime, so you shouldn't have to wait long. Please make yourselves comfortable and try to get along with the others."

And with that, he turned and walked back towards the doors. He closed them, and when they clicked into place, it felt like the group collectively relaxed. A few sank to the floor and several walked over to lean against the walls, while others sat huddled together. A quiet hum filled the room as the slaves talked quietly among themselves. There didn't seem to be any guards.

Quest's group stayed close to each other as they found a spot to sit. He had no idea what to make of the place. Though plenty looked scared or hopeless and almost all were suffering from malnutrition and minor injuries, none of the resident slaves seemed to be in terrible condition.

He had no idea what to make of it, but Quest figured he'd only been a slave for a few months. Growing up in the mountains, he'd never really seen any slaves before, so maybe this was normal. No one looked surprised to see his group arrive and the slaves that came with him barely batted an eye at their new surroundings.

Without anything better to do, Quest sank to the floor and leaned back against the wall. At the very least, there didn't seem to be any immediate danger, which was better than he'd had with his previous owners.

Actually, the room itself was beautiful. It was somewhat circular in shape and the walls arched high. Glass dotted the ceiling, and sunlight poured in, warming the space despite the cooler outside air. A giant brazier sat in the center, and a series of cushions and pelts and blankets and other soft things were placed in a circle around it.

It was hard to tell how much time passed, but eventually one of the resident slaves approached Quest's group. She looked to be human, which was a bit surprising to see until Quest remembered he was in the middle of the Desolation Zone and not back home.

"Welcome to paradise," she said, her tone teasing but not entirely sarcastic. "I'm Sori."

"What's going on here?" Quest asked. "What is all this?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure." Sori took a seat next to him. She looked to be in excellent health, which was a bit surprising for a slave. "You're the fifth or sixth group to arrive here in the last two weeks."

"What do they want us for?"

Sori shrugged. "I was with the first group and we still don't know. Supposedly we're confined to this room to be quarantined, but it hasn't been too bad. We get food and water, anyway, and those two doors in the back lead to a big washroom. There are more doors beyond that, but I don't know where they lead. It sounded like there was construction going on, but it's been quiet for the last few days."

"That dracari said we're free," one of Quest's companions whispered.

Sori hesitated at that. "We kind of are," she said slowly. "I mean, those front doors are locked, so you have to wait for one of the dracari to come by, but if you ask to leave, I think they let you. It's what we were told, but..."

But those who left probably didn't come back.

"We're gonna be eaten," another one of Quest's group whimpered.

Sori didn't seem to have a good answer for that.

Another hour or so passed before the doors opened again. Two more dracari pushed two big carts through, each cart stacked high with wrapped little packages.

Almost as one, the entire crowd got to their feet. Most were already forming a line along the opposite wall.

The dracari who brought Quest's group followed close behind the others.

"Okay, for those of you who've been here a while, I'm sorry you have to sit through this speech again, but as you probably saw, we've got some newcomers." He looked around for a moment before his pale amber eyes settled on the aforementioned newcomers. "My name is Dizarous. As I said, you are free here, and if you wish to leave, come talk to me or my coworkers and we'll have someone escort you to the gate. Before I start lunch services, please know the rules. Fighting is not allowed. If you're still hungry after you finish your portion, you may have another once everyone else has been served, but don't take more than you can eat. You will have two hours to eat, and when that time is up, we'd like you to bring your leftovers and empty wrappers back here to us. Okay, newbies. You guys can come get your meals first. Everyone else, uh, you're all lined up already, so I guess I don't have to say it. As usual, no pushing please."

Sori had to shove Quest forward before he slowly led his group over to the dracari. Dizarous seemed pleased and one of the others handed each of the group a little bundle wrapped in waxy paper. "Welcome to Ilsonath," he told them.

"Thank you," Quest murmured and offered a quick bow before retreating a step.

"Sir," one of his companions said. She was the one who thought they'd be eaten.

Dizarous handed her a bundle. "Yes?"

"You..." she was shaking and looked terrified. She had to take a few deep breaths before asking, "you said we can leave?"

"Yes, if you don't want to stay, we won't make you." Dizarous tilted his head, looking concerned. "I can get someone to escort you to the gate, but I'd advise waiting a day or two. If you don't mind me saying, you're in no condition to be traveling, and the rest of the territory isn't as safe as the Vantage."

"No...no I don't want to stay." She looked like she wanted to cry. "Please let me go. I can't..."

"Alright," Dizarous said gently. He glanced to one of his companions. "Nimbus, how about you take this one to the gate."

"Of course." Nimbus stepped away from her cart and opened the door, gesturing for the shaking kwell to follow her. "Would you like some new clothes before you go? Oh, it's okay, you can bring your food."

The door shut behind them. The rest of Quest's group received their food bundles and quickly returned to their spot by the wall. Dizarous and the remaining dracari began passing food bundles to the rest of the slaves.

Quest sat down and quickly unwrapped his bundle. His meal consisted of a thick piece of bread, a small wedge of some kind of cheese, and a single strip of dried meat. It wasn't a lot, but it was more than Quest's group had gotten in a long time and they all wolfed it down the moment they could.

As for Quest, he savored every bite. The meat wasn't flavored much and the bread wasn't very fresh, but it was the first thing Quest had eaten in nearly three days that hadn't been partially rotten.

His stomach was far from full, but the line of resident slaves was moving slowly, so he remained where he was. The whole thing was oddly surreal. Maybe it was the fact that everyone was being fed, but the atmosphere felt a lot lighter. Dizarous chatted a bit with some of the slaves as he handed them their food. The other dracari waved and said hello to a few. None of the slaves seemed happy, but none were upset, either.

As he waited, Quest's thoughts drifted to the member of his group that left. He supposed there was no way of knowing if she was actually set free or not. He really hoped so.

Lunch progressed. He and his remaining companions got second helpings of food when they could. A bit later, Dizarous announced that they had twenty more minutes to finish eating before he and the other dracari would collect the discarded paper.

He was about halfway through with this when Nimbus returned. She went and talked quietly to Dizarous for a moment before handing over a thick notepad. Neither seemed entirely happy about whatever was being discussed. They switched jobs, Nimbus continuing to clean up while Dizarous returned to the front of the room.

"Alright!" he said, clapping his hands to get everyone's attention. "There's been a change in plans. It looks like we're beginning assessments today, so my coworkers and I will be hanging around longer. Half of the washroom has been sectioned off for this purpose, so please be polite and respectful when sharing the other half."

With that, he made his way to the other side of the room. When he was there, he beckoned one of the slaves to follow him and led it through the door on the left.

"Well, this is new," Sori remarked as she rejoined Quest's group.

That wasn't comforting.

Over the next few hours, several slaves were called over by Dizarous. Each supposed assessment only took ten to fifteen minutes, and then Dizarous would return and call another.

A nervous air filled the room.

None of the assessed slaves returned.

"Hello everyone," one of the other dracari greeted. He picked his way to the middle of the room and found a place to sit. "My name is Mythril, and I'm the head librarian."

"Only librarian," Nimbus corrected with a grin.

"Well, yes. So far anyway." He gazed around the room. A look of unease briefly crossed his face, but then he pulled a large book out from under his robes and held it up. "Would anyone like to hear a story?"

He didn't wait for a reply and simply started reading out loud, describing an old myth that originated in the Vithe.

Meanwhile, Dizarous continued with assessments.

There were a few moments of tense stillness as Mythril continued to read, but then the slaves slowly began to relax just enough to sit or lie down. A few fell asleep on the floor or on one of the soft things that were set out around the brazier.

When his story finished, a few asked him to start a new one. Mythril happily agreed and opened his book to another story, this one originating somewhere in the northern territories.

Ironically, it was a story that Quest recognized, and he found himself listening as the dracari continued to read.

Time passed. Assessments continued and Mythril continued to read until his voice got scratchy. He asked Nimbus to read the rest while he drank some water and got another book.

The room slowly emptied.

Sori stood when it was her turn. "See ya on the other side," she told Quest.

He really hoped so.

And then it was his turn.

Quest got to his feet when Dizarous waved him over. He had to swallow the sudden surge of fear as he headed to the middle of the room where Dizarous waited.

"I know this is terribly spooky," Dizarous said as Quest followed him through the door. "But I promise that nothing bad will happen to you."

The room beyond was something like a large bathroom with several faucets for showering and a drain in the center. Another dracari sat in a chair just inside the door.

"My name is Erune, and I'm the Vantage's health specialist," he said in a monotonous tone that suggested he'd been saying the same thing to everyone who saw him that day. "Are your clothes important to you?"

Quest blinked. "What?"

"Are you emotionally attached to the rags you are wearing?" Erune clarified, looking impatient. He held a notepad and tapped it impatiently against his knee.

"Er, no?"

The dracari snapped his fingers and Quest was briefly engulfed in a bright green light. It flickered like fire, but there was no real heat even as his clothes burned to ash around him.

"Wash yourself," Erune told him and pointed to the faucets. "Try to be quick about it. When you're done, come back over here."

Quest did as he was told, but Dizarous followed him over.

"I hope you don't mind if I ask you some questions while you do that," he said, looking apologetic. He held his one notepad and scribbled something at the top. "It's been a long day and we're trying to be as efficient as possible."

"Er, I'm fine with it." Quest wondered what the point was of asking him. It's not like he had a choice either way.

As Quest scrubbed himself, Dizarous proceeded to ask his name, age, sex and pronouns. It was all very quick and simple until he asked what species he was.

"Kwell," Quest said slowly. He rinsed his hair and then accepted the towel Erune threw at him. "I'm a ketter and dracari cross."

"Really?" Dizarous mused. He paused in his writing, and looked Quest up and down. "Well then, please forgive the nature of these next questions. Have you had sex before?"

Quest blinked. Had he...?

"You don't actually have to answer these," Dizarous assured him.

Not that Quest trusted that.

"Yes," he said.

“Can you impregnate someone, be impregnated, both, or neither?”

“Ah, both, I think.” Though it wasn’t uncommon for kwell to be sterile and he had no idea if he was one.

“I see.” Dizarous marked down his response. “Do you enjoy sexual intercourse?”

“Um…” that too was a difficult question to answer. “I think so?” He liked masturbating back before he’d been enslaved. Any sexual contact after that had been less than pleasurable, but that was more due to the circumstances.

Dizarous winced a bit. "I see," he said. "Let me rephrase that: would you enjoy sexual intercourse if you weren't being forced or otherwised coerced into participating?"

"Probably?"

"Alright." Dizarous scribbled furiously, looking relieved. "We can get back to the less invasive questions while Erune examines you."

The idea of being examined, especially after questions like that, made Quest incredibly nervous, but he quickly patted himself dry and went back to where Erune was waiting.

To his incredible relief, Erune was very clinical about the whole thing. He looked into Quest's eyes and ears and mouth and nose and checked him over for injuries. He felt along his spine and briefly inspected Quest's slit and rectum for signs of infection or worms. He seemed relieved when he found neither.

All the while, Dizarous asked him about his interests, hobbies, and skills, as well as if he could read and any skills he might be interested in learning. When that was done, he was offered a simple set of clothes (which he eagerly accepted) and led through another door.

On the other side was a long room with several beds. Most of the other slaves who had been assessed were there, and Quest was invited to choose a bed.

Then Dizarous was gone again.

Quest just stared after him.

"This wasn't what I was expecting either," Sori said as she approached him.

"Is this... normal for slaves?"

Sori shrugged. "Examinations are pretty common, though they're usually a lot more rough and invasive. Slaves who get bought by really rich people will get nice clothes sometimes. So far, this is probably the nicest place I've ever been."

"Same here." Quest took the empty bed by hers and gratefully sat down. The mattress was kind of lumpy, but he was far from caring. He hadn't slept in a bed since being taken.

"I still don't know if I believe that they freed us," Sori continued. "But at least we're probably not going to be eaten. I mean, I can't imagine anyone would go through this much trouble for a bunch of livestock."

Yeah, that was probably good news.

More food was brought in later and Dizarous poked his head in to tell them that the doors would be unlocked, but he'd really appreciate if everyone stayed around the barracks until the next morning.

Outside, the sun set.

Quest curled up on his bed and tried not to feel too optimistic. Everything seemed to be going well, but that didn't mean the situation was as it seemed. Even among the dracari who were kind to them, the residents seemed to have concerns about the population of slaves.

So, as he laid there and listened to his neighbors whisper to each other in the dim light, Quest resolved not to be disappointed when everything inevitably fell apart.

In the night, three of the slaves tried to run.

Two returned by the morning, looking just as clean and healthy as they had been before attempting to leave. When asked, they said that a dracari saw them and said they could go, but that they would be safer at the Vantage until their health improved. Without anywhere else to go, two heeded the advice and were allowed to return. The third was allowed to leave.

That afternoon, Dizarous visited the main hall again.

"I hope you all slept well," he greeted them. "I'm sure you're all very confused and more than a little frightened, so let me try to put your minds at ease.

"As I've said before, you are not slaves anymore. You belong to no one but yourselves, and you may come and go as you please. However, we here at the Vantage would like to encourage you to stay and work around the complex. To start, you'd most likely be asked to do menial chores and help out here and there, but there are plenty of opportunities to do other things if you are interested and able or even just willing to learn. You'd be given a fair stipend at the end of the week and be allowed to live here in the barracks or perhaps in one of the empty quarters on the other side of the courtyard.

"Of course, even if you choose to stay and work, you're also free to go any time you please. We would just ask that you let us know ahead of time so we might redistribute your assigned work." Dizarous cleared his throat and rubbed at one horn in embarrassment. "Sorry. We get new folks in all the time, but this is the largest number in one group that I can remember since... ever, probably."

He sighed and then offered them a gentle smile. "You don't have to make a decision today. You all will be given ten days to decide whether you would like to stay and work or go elsewhere. For now, nothing is expected of you. Please take the time to rest and heal. I will be hanging around if anyone has any questions, but you may also feel free to ask anyone else you might run into on the grounds. Aside from the dracari pride, there is a small ketter colony living here as well as a few other beings of various backgrounds. Please treat everyone you meet with respect, and they will do the same for you."

And with that, he took his leave, leaving Quest to think about what had been said. It still all seemed... too good to be true. They had been brought to Ilsonath as slaves. Was he really supposed to believe they were all free? What of the others? Surely the ones who'd tried to run hadn't really gotten off scot-free, had they?

He spent the day wandering the gardens. Quest was far from the only slave (former slave?) to do so, and he could still feel a strange tension in the air as the residents observed them. It was unnerving and suggested that Dizarous was either out of touch with the community or was straight up lying about how nice everyone was.

But even so, Quest found it hard not to be just a bit hopeful.

Everything was so green, soft grass tickling his feet and leafy ferns swaying in the breeze. Spring flowers offered bursts of color and made the air smell sweet and floral. Trees that had grown and grown now bore fruit or blossoms, and some had both. There was water somewhere and he found several shallow streams that cut through the grounds.

It shouldn't have been possible for things to be flourishing so much. Weren't they just on the border of the Desolation Zone? The decay and destruction spread much farther than the interpreted border, and the Vantage was right in the middle the affected area. Logically, the land here should be even worse than anywhere else.

Curious, Quest stopped to sit on the grass and closed his eyes. Being part ketter, he had very little magic of his own, but the dracari in him allowed him to sense the magi around him. The Vantage had a lot, though most of it was due to the people there. Dracari naturally had a strong magical presence, and there were several of them. There was an oddly warm kind of magic that he couldn't seem to pin down and then a similar kind of magic that was closer by.

It was a strange kind of magic, warm like the sun and crackling like electricity. It didn't seem to be attached to a person, but it felt alive and it was spreading outward from a single source.

Quest followed that source to the center of the Vantage. There was a small structure that looked a bit out of place from the surrounding architecture. It almost looked like a temple, its pointed roof contrasting with the more rounded buildings that made up the rest of the complex.

It didn't appear to have any doors.

The magical presence he felt was definitely coming from inside, but Quest decided not to pursue it any further. The building was entirely sealed, so it was obviously off limits. Things were going kind of well at the moment, and he didn't want to push his luck.

That evening, he went to the kitchens to eat his dinner. Nimbus was there, chatting with random people as she flitted from table to table.

Interestingly enough, she didn't seem to be in charge. It looked like one of the ketters was cooking the food and directing a mixed group in how to help prepare the plates. Nimbus simply ran around and served food and laughed with the diners and collected dirty plates.

Quest ate his food alone and watched as people came and went. It all looked so painfully ordinary. Peaceful. It made him think of a village his family had visited once. There'd been a farm there that offered shelter in exchange for help with the harvest. He remembered those days so clearly, running around with his siblings and competing to see who could find the biggest vegetables or carry the most produce while their parents warned them not to stray too far.

He missed those days. More specifically, he missed his family. He wondered if they were alright.

He found himself staring dimly into his empty bowl when he'd finished. The food was delicious, and his belly was pleasantly full, but his chest still ached. He hoped he would find them someday, even if it was only to have the confirmation of what had become of them.

When he was done with his meal, he took his bowl back to the kitchens himself and almost ran into Nimbus.

"I'm sorry, miss," Quest said swiftly, ducking out of the way.

"No, no, that was me," Nimbus assured him. Her smile faltered when she looked him in the eye. "Are you alright? I didn't step on your tail, did I?"

"I'm fine." The smile he gave her was more like a grimace.

Her lips pressed into a tight line. "You're one of the newcomers, huh?"

Quest gave a careful nod.

"I see." She gently took his bowl from him, "wait here a sec," and darted back into the kitchens. She returned a few seconds later and offered him a small parcel wrapped in waxy paper. "I made these earlier for a friend. Don't tell anyone I'm giving you one, okay? I don't have enough for all you."

The package felt warm. Quest was wary, but opened it a little. The aroma of freshly-baked something filled the air. It was one of those fluffy-looking pastry things filled with nuts and honey.

Quest was almost too stunned to respond. "Th-thank you," he managed and offered a bow.

Nimbus grinned, looking pleased. "That's sweet, but you don't have to do that. And it's no problem. I just like helping out where I can." She waved and hurried on her way, the line of diners growing as the sun went down.

Outside, the sun was beginning to set, and Quest followed the lengthening shadows back into the garden to enjoy his treat. Part of him wondered if it held some kind of poison, but the other half didn't even care after taking a tentative bite.

It was the best damn thing he'd ever tasted. He almost moaned at how wonderful it was, the flavors melting together to create a perfect blend that reminded him of those days spent back home, just the family of six living their lives in peace. Neither of his parents could cook, but his sibling could. They never had the ingredients to make something like this, but Quest was sure they could have.

His heart still hurt, but he tried not to think about it. Either way, there wasn't anything he could do.

When he finished eating, he took his time enjoying the dying rays of sun, watching as the sky burned and then slowly faded from bright red and orange to pink, and finally deep indigo and violet as stars twinkled overhead.

When the sky began to dim into dusk, he finally headed back to the barracks. His heart felt a bit lighter than before, and he didn't shy away from that warm magic that still hung over the complex.

Maybe things would be okay after all.

Then Dizarous stopped him just outside of the barracks.

"Ah, there you are," he greeted. "Quest, right?"

Quest nodded warily.

"If you don't mind, I'd like you to come with me." Dizarous led him back and then around to where the ground began to slope. Most of the Vantage was built on flat land, but Quest was taken up a narrow path that led up the slope and to a door set into the cliff face.

Inside was a staircase that wound up and out of sight.

"Sorry for the impromptu workout," Dizarous said cheerfully as they wound their way upward. "Queen Solaris designed her private quarters to only be reachable by flying folk. The steps were kind of an afterthought."

Quest nearly stopped dead in his tracks. The… queen? That was who he was being taken to see?

His fear must've been noticeable, because Dizarous laughed softly and waved one hand. "It's okay. I'm sure she won't bite your head off."

That didn't do anything to ease his fears. All at once, Quest recalled the stories and rumors he'd heard regarding Ilsonath's queen, and as Dizarous led him up the steep stone steps, he could remember every bloody detail.

[mistralxsoul]

Flynn wasn't sure why he had apologized to begin with. In the end, they were both working to do essentially the same thing. Protecting the ones who couldn't protect themselves. Even if Yuri had been betrayed by the world, he was still working to create a world where people didn't have to be falsely accused and have their lives ruined.

So, maybe somewhere in his heart, he knew that Yuri understood why he had to stay behind. Just as Flynn understood why Yuri had to go and get involved in what was sounding like an increasingly dangerous mission. The idea of changing the world into one without the need for Vision Orbs seemed crazy in the long run. So much would have to change social wise for it to happen. But the world had grown far too dependent on them and it was time for someone to find a way to get it to end.

It was a job that not just anyone could do. But Yuri had a strange habit of performing miracles. (Like destroying Enforcers? What in the world was he talking about?) If anyone could do it, Yuri could. And he knew that if Yuri couldn't do it, he would die trying.

...Right. Yuri could die. Anyone could die after attempting to do something crazy like this. Hell, Flynn was putting his own life in danger by offering to help on the side. The entire thing was... it was crazy. But Yuri seemed confident that this was the path to take and after everything that Flynn has experienced, he didn't have much else to cling to but that.

"You'll tell me someday." He knows that Yuri still believes that he could die from this and Flynn does too. But he repeats those words between the two of them as if quietly making that a promise between them. Yuri had to come back one day. He had to tell him what he meant by destroying the Enforcers. At least... Flynn assumed that's what he meant.

Flynn was in pain, truthfully, but he had done a good job at keeping it together, even when Yuri leaned down to kiss him. He returned the kiss with no hesitation, squeezing Yuri's hand in response as he stepped closer into Yuri's space and...

...When Flynn's father died in the line of duty, Flynn remembered shedding hot tears of anger as he swung his sword mercilessly against the tree in his backyard for hours, until blisters covered his hand. When his mother died of sickness, Flynn sobbed harder than he ever had at her funeral, collapsing at the edge of her grave as if he had wanted to be buried with her.

Flynn didn't cry often. It was a rare sight. One that he had never even showed Yuri on more than one occasion.

....And yet, there was something about hearing those three words that just completely shattered the dam he held up. Even when he had thought Yuri was gone, he felt numb and empty. Like a void could never be filled.

Deep down, he knew Yuri felt the same way he did. They never said it, of course. Flynn thought that they never would, honestly. It seemed like they were both content just dancing around the topic. Living a life where they both knew but didn't want to take that first step and change it all.

But now things had changed and it was entirely possible (and VERY likely) that he would never get to see Yuri again after this. There were simply too many things to take into account and now he had to deal with the fact that their possible last interaction was the interaction where it all came to light?

Was he truly alright with letting things go like this?

The tears were released as they pressed their foreheads against one another and Flynn couldn't stand it. The possibility was too much for him to handle. So, he surges forward again, capturing Yuri's lips in another kiss, this one more desperate than the last as he drops Yuri's hand in favor of reaching up and letting his hand cup the back of Yuri's head.

He holds the kiss, almost too afraid of letting go and letting Yuri walk away, possibly for good, and he knows the kiss is anything but romantic, considering how wet his cheeks were suddenly.

And then he's pulling away and he looks back to Yuri, eyes wet and pleading. "I love you too." He presses his forehead back against Yuri's and lets out a shaky sigh. "Don't-- Don't you die out there... Do you hear me? Come back to me alive. Just promise me that, please. Even if you're not sure. Just... promise me. Okay?"

Even right now this still felt like the Flynn he knew. There were definitely shades of change in him, but Yuri understood. If this had been reversed, he would have changed from it too. From seeing that... happen to Flynn. Every day, especially since he became a transgressor himself, he feared the worst for the people he knew.

And Flynn was right. He had to take care of them. It wasn't like none of the knights listened to Flynn that weren't directly in his squad, so he could still manage to get people off the Lower Quarter's back. They shouldn't have to live every day wondering if another one of them would be taken by Enforcers. They shouldn't have to be terrified of sticking up for each other.

Flynn's reaction was better than he expected though, knowing Yuri would be out there with other transgressors. Yuri could stick up for them all he wanted, but without Flynn knowing what their actual "crimes" were, there was any number of things they could've been. Luckily the group he worked with really was a good group. They were, in truth, a combination of having committed what were, by law, crimes, and others who hadn't actually committed a crime at all.

It was almost a relief that Flynn took it well, but not entirely if only because Yuri could still hear and see the pain he was in. Yuri wished he could finish his original mission with Flynn rather than having to do this separate, but with everything that had happened it was... somewhat unrealistic without Yuri pulling any strings that would make him look actually worse or just outright jeopardize Flynn.

One thing Flynn was right about though was that Yuri wouldn't be totally alone. He had people to go back to, and he'd taken up this mission to destroy Vision Centrals on his own. If he really felt the need to be more protected, he could just stay with them. It wasn't like they were forcing him to do this. Fact was though, they were handling his original mission, more or less... and at that point it was just redundant to do it separately from them.

But Yuri shook his head at Flynn's apology. There was nothing to apologize for and that was just the whole truth. Yuri gave him the option. He didn't need to accept it, and he was right that he had other things he could be doing. "Your plan is to help people. You don't need to apologize for that."

This though... was one more reason he didn't want to stop for Flynn. Leaving again would just be more difficult. If this had been like before, he would have done it fine knowing he could just come back whenever. He couldn't safely do that anymore. Maybe he never would be able to ever again. When Kanata's group did what they had to do, what would happen? What would change? Would transgressors be free again?

None of them knew. For all they knew their lives could be ruined forever. No going back to just being... a person. Some of them had killed people, but... what about the ones who did nothing wrong at all? The ones who were lied about? The ones who had to live like this because people were cruel and hateful? Whenever Yuri saw Vicious so aggressively having fun threatening people, he... couldn't blame him for it. If the world didn't treat him like it did, he wouldn't have become so spiteful.

Now even Yuri was starting to understand.

Gently he rested his fingers on Flynn's wrist, not quite taking hold of his hold but regaining contact. "If I can send for you I will, just... don't get caught. And if something happens, try to search for me. Use whatever information you have. If you ever get condemned, I... need to be there. Someday I'll tell you why, but... I can fight them off. I can... destroy them." But he couldn't get into Blood Sins right now. Flynn's knights would eventually be back. He couldn't put Flynn at risk and cause tension between him and his own knights.

But at the same time, Yuri knew he could reasonably be killed at any time, too. If it wasn't a human, it could be very well be Enforcers, and if he were with Kanata's group at the time, Kasque herself. At the end of the day he wasn't invincible. Just capable of doing things normal transgressors couldn't.

Before he pulled back to leave, he leaned over and pushed a light kiss on Flynn's lips. He could be as stubborn as he wanted about affection before. He didn't have that luxury anymore. He could literally be dead tomorrow.

So he held it for as long as he could before his nerves started to warn him again. Remind him they weren't safe, much less like this if someone saw them. He hated it, but... he couldn't put Flynn in danger just to be selfish. When he pulled back he rested their foreheads together, keeping his voice low. "I love you. Be careful."

[alessabriel]

Y/n Wayne!Venom! x Batfamily

Grayscale  – Y/n Wayne!Venom!xBatfamily |  P2 ―

Summary: [Name] was a shadow among his family, on patrol and only stands out from cameras outside, every important aspect of his life was gray in a great work of art full of vibrant colors, even if he tried 200% he would never stop being monochromatic or so he thought until the arrival of something out of his world.

Cw: blood, typical canon violence, mention of suicides, self-esteem and mental issues, parental neglect, if I missed any let me know.

- Someone asked me to tag him and here I am: @venomsvl​ I feel like it's not a big deal, it's not a lot of anguish or a lot of fluff but I did it, I hope it feels good for you to read this c:

✂ ⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋

↻ The arrival of Venom in your life only mobilized even more the endless empty hours in which your own mind played against you, the voice of the Symbiote filled your head and distracted you.  It was a breath of fresh air, a tender caress on the head after hours of crying and you could feel that your new alien companion could feel it, but neither had said anything yet.

↻ Just as you felt better, everyone noticed it but no one delved into it and the only one who did it as usual was Alfred, which was never new.  At that point he was your real Father.

||  The days were calmer with Venom's eternal talk inside your head, it was comforting to listen to them and apparently the silence didn't bother him, he could feel that you communicated mostly with movements so subtle that they could go unnoticed.  And his unmistakable deep, rumbling voice was welcome.  You didn't know when it had become everyday to have long conversations accompanied by food for both of them.

“I see that he has regained his appetite of old young master [Name].”

And without being able to avoid it you choked on the mouthful of pancakes dipped in that gooey chocolate fudge, fortunately small incidents like that Venom was good at pulling you out of it by mere instinct and stayed on your bare skin, hidden from prying eyes.

How little you knew.

Since Alfred kept a soft watch on you, you were the son who was most attached to his side.  The affection that protected you was undeniable, and unfortunately far exceeded the rest but they were secrets that he would take to the grave.  That's why his immediate reaction was to offer pats on your back seeking to help you not drown, and in that tiny instant he felt something that cushioned his palm.  Something under your clothes and moving, he didn't say anything.

"If having parasites leaves me with an appetite after I recover, Dad," you commented, unable to avoid your content smile, waiting for the reaction.

“I am not a parasite.  apologize!”  It was the voice that echoed in your head in a pleasant way.

And Alfred felt his heart squeeze by the naturalness in which that word emerged from your lips and it was the word "Dad", he could feel the love printed in your words and the infinite affection that lived in your sincere eyes when his gaze met with yours and every good feeling was increased by your giggle, that contagious and sweet giggle without bad intentions, it was inevitable not to laugh along with you.  Your laughter was so contagious that it was a shame I hadn't heard you laugh more often, not since those years.

“I can imagine it son, I can imagine it”

For the first time since the abrupt change in the fourth youngest son, [Name] let go of such iron self-control with his most beloved father figure and mentor of his in his existence.  No one looked at the brotherly love between them and that was fine, because for the first time they both allowed themselves to be selfish.

Finally Alfred could freely call one of his beloved masters, like his son without being interested in the label and finally you could freely love your dad, that figure you adored so much.  ||

↻ Your life began to travel much clearer paths, but you did not let go of your self-control and continued with the same rhythm in your patrol but alone, you could not work together with your brothers due to the difference between their methods and difference of thoughts.  Not when you could feel the sharp gaze of Dick and Tim silently judging you, it was irritating (Damian became more vicious in beating them, more Tim for his open creepiness directed at you and your perfection on the pitch, in your entire life, but this didn't stand out much thanks to the smaller Robin himself).

↻ That caused you such suffocating stress that not even Venom could lighten up with his idle chatter for your distraction and allow you to cool down (because Venom understood the falsehood in humans and as your own family flaunted it by hurting all its members and understood the because of your always perfect inexpression that did not leave anything in the air) because they both knew how cruel you could be.  And your eternal fear vibrated against the existence of your alien companion who lived in you, and Venom feared when that moment would come and they both tried not to think about that safe house that remained camouflaged with everything necessary to flee and maybe, just maybe go with your mother's family.  Wisdom and the matriarch's number weighed on your phone, as did the terror of breaking the rules and being kicked out of the family, of being thrown aside in the most horrific way literally and that subjected you to results you didn't want, to missions accomplished but unsatisfying for you and Venom.

↻ Although you gradually let go of that fear, with such delicacy and care, you began to make your own decisions explicitly based on your ideals, philosophy and way of thinking.  You couldn't see Jason's pride at your looseness, although rigid it was a tender freedom that you allowed yourself and he loved seeing that in his younger brother, a younger brother he would give his life for and perhaps the demon-possessed Damian, he lied telling himself that it didn't hurt to love all her siblings in the same way because the two younger ones earned her affection and affection.  Jason loved his two younger brothers with all his being, the last to join the family for being themselves, and hell swallow him alive if he did not treasure them with every tender, diabolical, Machiavellian and even brotherly antics they did including the most of the time (he always tried to lie to himself that he didn't cry when they gave him an exact painting of that puppy that died waiting for his return).

↻ Unlike Tim and Dick, both the youngest children of Bruce Wayne and the second eldest got along wonderfully, as time passed an unbreakable bond was formed between the three, they could hit each other, insult each other and play heavy jokes but never really hurt each other .  There was an unspoken brotherhood between the three, something that no one could understand but they did see strangely.  Jason specifically hated those weird, uncertain looks when you and Damian were having fun with things about boys your age, when you saw Damian laughing at being carried on his back in a zoo or you laughing at silly jokes.  Or when they interrupted everyone's painting sessions, Jason knew that he didn't stand out like his two little brothers but he loved spending time with his family without being tortured by the past, nor by the actions of his "Father" (he would never forget Damian's tears asking him for forgiveness for being the cause of making him relapse into his traumas, same dark days lit by you with a good whispered read, takeout and home cooked meals, quality time including Damian afterwards and healing together).  He would never change anything in his life, because that would ensure that he had met his two best little brothers in his life.

||  Still palpable and tattooed in blue fire on his eyelids remained the memory of you, how he had broken into his safe house and that no one else knew.  You wore commando clothing and well concealed loaded weapons, you carried a backpack and a sports bag with you.  Jason didn't have the strength to face you, not when he was a throwaway from the brother you used to know.

"No one knows your location brother, only me" you relieved his visible anxiety in his gaunt face, with stubble and eyes tired of everything.  And you just swallowed, seeing the trauma in his clear orbs "I brought things to stay with you Jason I hope you don't mind"

A dry laugh was only heard, his life was a disaster that would surely disgust, after all you were the epitome of youthful and childlike perfection.

“If you don't mind all the dirt, go ahead”

From there Jason remembered little, but you did remember everything: bottles of alcohol even with their content scattered in random places, ashtrays with cigarettes started but never finished and bloody blades lying around, it hurt to see your reflection in them.  But you weren't one to say anything, not when the scars weighed down the inside of her ankles, thighs, and forearms.  So you spent that day cleaning up Jason's mess to finish both in the room without windows but with a low temperature air conditioner and both with a sandwich with a juice box, it was the best they had.

"Why did you look for me?"  is the question before a listless bite of food.  Jason didn't want to eat but his body said otherwise.

You just continued to drink juice from the box through the straw, tasting the sweet and tart flavor of the cranberry before you could answer, watching television with a children's movie that you knew by heart.

"Because I would like at least someone in my family to support me and not that idiot B" you said before biting down hard on your sandwich and snuggling better, without taking care of your position for the first time, revealing the inside of your ankles with sharp lines one after another, some still pink and others just a white trace, you were aware but you would not say anything a father, not a good father, just a father in the first place”

Jason heard the pain behind your words, as someone who had carried years of heavy and eternal resentment, and perhaps he wasn't the only one who suffered at the hands of who should be his father.

"It's a piece of shit that even money can't outshine, right?"

"Never.  Do you want to play minecraft?  That usually relaxes me, Alfred showed me the game a long time ago”

Not only were houses built and mined for hours, Jason and [Name] inched forward, bonding like brothers vowing to leave hidden secrets in that safe house that they prayed no one would ever know.  No one would know what happened on that fateful day of the massacre at Blackmont Manor and no one would know of a father's sneaky method with his second son to get what he wanted to leave him traumatized.  Because reproach would not give anything good and they knew it.  ||

↻ Same times that were shortened by something, something that neither Jason nor Damian knew about but that would hit them horribly.

↻ Venom would never say it out loud but that lightness and elegant wildness was so attractive, you attracted people like moths to a light and he began to be a moth in search of that unique luminous glow.  I enjoyed seeing you more relaxed, hanging out with friends with uproarious laughter who invited you to drink, to smoke (he always laughed at you for your concerns about developing addiction or illness, Venom protected you on a systemic level, but tried not to be a habit) and to get lost at night between isolated parts on motorcycles and giving you an opportunity to take advantage of everything that surrounded you but you ignored for being so clinging to self-control to avoid being the center of your parent.

↻ That elegant and vicious savagery presented itself in your patrol, with the perpetual thought that both Venom and you shared the thought that there were people who should not continue to live and having Venom, you could follow that thought.  Not without first reaching agreements, agreeing on blind spots and investigating each person close to being devoured, Venom hated it but that gave them the security of only really bad people disappearing.

↻ Venom had times when he was in full control to chase down specific targets and devour them into the blind spots of cameras that infested all of Gotham like bugs, as raw meat and chocolate wouldn't always be enough, you knew that from the endless hours talking.  And although you dealt with that underlying guilt for months, you managed to deal with it to move forward, like everything in your life.

↻ Thus the disappearances began, criminals whose crimes attacked the innocent fell but there was a pattern that Batman did not take long to notice.  All those who died were charged with horrendous crimes such as horrific rapes, horrific murders for pleasure, intentional terrorists who attacked entire cities, people who attacked humanity itself and all within a specific schedule that was from 4:30 to 5:05 am of on Tuesday, Thursday and Friday.  However, no evidence of anything was ever found, only the disappearance remained with no bodies found.  But everything caused a bitter aftertaste in Batman that he saw more than his companions saw and it weighed on him.

↻ No one knew what was going on.

↻ Until suspicion fell on you, the non-existent clues pointed close to you and your brothers (except Damian and Jason) immediately thought it was you, no one doubted it and that went deep.  It went so deep that Venom felt that vicious chill of anger and betrayal rumble through your bones, because they don't ask, they just accuse.

↻ That tiny thought said out loud upset you, made you angry and furious for reasons that no one but Venom knew, an uncontrollable rage that you could barely contain inside yourself and that Venom little by little began to take as his own, to rage for all baseless accusations leveled at you from your own father.  When there was more behind, there was a lot more behind but since you weren't The Joker, Catwoman, Harley Queen and any of the Gotham villains that your father played tag with.  Because you were not The Joker who "repented" of what he did in the past to obtain mercy and help, the same as if he received.  But you, oh no!  Nerd.

↻ Everything exploded from one moment to another.

||  Never in your years of patrolling and being a vigilante did the suit weigh you down in such a way.  The damn bat was stinging your chest like a white phosphorus burn and the kevlar armor was suffocating you, the sweat itching your skin horribly.  In your head the voice of Venom did not make a dent in your own thoughts so violent, it was like pouring sharp stones inside your skull for everyone to shake you.

He was hurting you.  All the accusations caused your silence to make you even more guilty in everyone's eyes, because of course everyone followed that stupid rule.  I couldn't follow her, you couldn't when those bastards only got a year in prison getting out of jail early, those sons of bitches who destroyed your little family away from the central core and continued to rape, kill and take lives.  You couldn't, you couldn't conceive it when even the horrific scene of your mother being tortured and you forced to watch, you couldn't.  A stupid rule allowed vile beings like them to roam the streets when they snatched preschool girls, people from their families, when they kept torturing people and blowing up schools.  And both Batman and his team did nothing, they just played to send him to jail so they could come out later to continue their streak.

Nothing made sense.

And your silence, a silence so devoid of reaction, only gave reason to the 'best detectives' in the world.  Ridiculous titles to tell the truth, the situation at that point was funny.

"Won't you say anything son?"  questioned Batman with that damn voice that he used with criminals, he was treating you like a criminal when yesterday he had promised to attend your volleyball game (promise that would never be fulfilled).

And that made you explode, that stupid modulated and regulated tone of voice poked you in the wrong way just like that distant day.  You took off the command mask breaking it in your hand without even measuring your strength and Venom's momentum on your body, ignoring the look of Damian, Alfred and Jason, you couldn't stand it anymore.  Not anymore, you were fed up and the hatred was filtered to get lost, the resentment instead scratched you viciously and made you laugh.

Laughter that indicated you were far from you.  Damian felt his heart break to see you so broken, vulnerable and angry because you knew you would never kill because yes and by the looks of Alfred and Jason they knew it, only Batman denied any approach.

"What do I need to say if the incomparable Batman already blamed me, nothing will get you out of it" and your voice was just shaky, sounding so discordant from your normal tone.

And when Batman's hand wanted to touch your shoulder, a blackish mass emerged cutting the skin and protecting you at your weakest, most vulnerable moment.  Venom wouldn't let him hurt you, not again.

"I don't know what the hell I expect, that they even doubt me" you said prisoner of everything, of pressure, of pain, of anger, rage and rage as well as of fear, panic and terror.  You laughed hysterically trying to scratch your skin but Venom wouldn't let you protect your skin from your short fingernails and you couldn't take it anymore, no more "I don't know what I expect, dammit"

And everyone sprang into action as that blackish mass emerged to hover around you like a protective wave that repelled every thrown batarang and made you jump back as close to your bike as possible.  Venom tried to protect you but the unmistakable pain and anguish made you more angry, more out of you but it didn't matter.  He would protect your blind and weak spots, because he would first die before leaving you to die alone.  And since Red Hood was sneaking off with something in hand next to the younger Robin, they would help.

Within seconds of being attacked, Batman made everyone calm down, as if he were dealing with a wild animal without reason.  That made you even angrier.

“Yes, it was me who did everything and I really don't regret it!  Your eternal crusade is useless because you only play hide and seek with those sons of bitches” you retaliated with anguished cries.

"It's not what you think son-"

"Don't call me son with a damn! You don't even know the most basic of me. And the little you know is because of Alfred" you answered in the middle of hysteria feeling how Venom threatened to take control and you pushed him down, with the last what was left of you you ripped off the useless gray chest emblem throwing it away from you at your father's feet, getting as far away from them as possible and having the motorcycle in your sights covering you hastily with the helmet "And you know what? I don't matter!”

Before anyone could react, several tear gas and smoke bombs exploded at the same time, catching everyone off guard because it was coming from three different directions.

It was only the beginning of the end.  ||

↻ With your escape only an endless search began, nobody knew where you had fled and that created a conflict in the league.  No one could say anything, some were in agreement with your actions but doubtful that you had it inside you and others who were flatly opposed.  Surprisingly, it was Super Man who calmed the chaos at that time, because he agreed to start a search for the motives behind your actions.  Along with many others from the League, the same ones that Batman discarded as if nothing happened to look for you until he found you.

↻ Because it was always that rule before his family, that was seen by everyone until now and nobody could say anything, they would not say anything.

↻ Little did they know, it was a matter of days before you managed to lose everyone including Jason and Damian to decide what to do next, considering that you only had your mother's family number on the cell phone that you always kept for emergencies.  Nothing was certain, having to scrap and shelve vehicles left and right, you weren't well yet but it was an understatement of how you really felt.

↻ "We can be vigilantes and roam the world, and call ourselves Lethal Protector" Venom enthused inside your head while in a tattered mirror you trimmed your always long hair letting it fall in the sink "So we can go kicking ass"

↻ Venom talked a lot and it was what you needed, a respite from all the shit that was going on around you.

↻ You felt so shitty and in pain, in suffering because that shitty rule was always more important than family.  But that pain was slowly sleeping, so deeply that it was ridiculous.  You just needed to get them out of your system.

↻ The reflection that the mirror gave you back was unbelievable, it wasn't you and for the first time it was your own expression free of control, you hardly recognized yourself.  That freedom gave you encouragement and circulated the blood in your veins, with decision you deleted the contact and dialed a number that you knew by heart;  of your brother Jason.

||  The rain came pouring down around you, your sheltered under a stop on some road with the next target weighing in the pocket of your commando clothing.  It hadn't been that hard to get out of those shitholes.

"Marco" you said before bringing the cigarette to your lips enjoying how Venom ate everything you had bought before the hunt.

Being a bounty hunter had always appealed to you, with your unerring fame and training it was easy, and with the right connections you'd gotten rid of any traces you could leave for the old man.

"Polo, damn [Name] it's been weeks, where the hell are you?"

It was impossible to camouflage the little pain in your chest but you cradled it, they were your feelings and they were all accepted.

"Just to tell you that I'm fine, let D know too... And sorry for everything, I'm so sorry."

Once the call was made, you threw the cell phone onto the highway where a car swept it away, taking it to pieces.  Venom was laughing excited to be able to go around looking for whatever it was that your target was. “As I see this, we can do everything!”  ||

↻ Grayscale was filled with colors when the Wayne name and that perfectly false golden boy had been buried with the dead, it was just a blank canvas waiting for thousands of colors.

[whoahoney]

glassy eyes, hazy afternoons // pt 2

Eddie Munson x anxious!stoner!Reader

part 1

Summary: Reader goes exploring Hawkins with her brother and makes more unexpected friends, leading her to attend a live music show at the Hideout.

Content Warnings: fem!reader, reader has an older brother, use of y/n, minor descriptions of anxiety, recreational use of drugs, use of cigarettes, alcohol consumption, adult language, adult content (minors DNI!), fluff, mutual pining.

Authors Note: AHHHHH PT 2!!! She’s lengthy but she’s good honest work. I love writing Eddie Munson, what a pleasure he is to work with, as I’m sure anyone else would agree. Anyway, please enjoy this heart-warming and flirty installment of the series.

Autumn in Hawkins looked straight out of the beautiful beginnings of a scary movie—the turning leaves of the maple trees standing out through the light fog that spread through the town like a blanket.

Windows were blurred with humidity and had condensation running down the panes like tears. When Y/n woke up that morning, she could feel the cool damp air clinging to her skin, and her nose was red with a chill. Her eyes darted over to the window next to her bed, realizing she had left it open a few inches overnight. The windowsill was wet with morning dew, as was her glass bottle green ashtray.

Before shoving the window closed, she dumped the remnants of her nightly smoke outside into the flower bed. She dusted off her hands and stood up from her bed, thinking about her plans for her lazy Saturday morning. Y/n searched for her coziest sweater and sweatpants, completed with some warm wool socks.

The aroma of eggs and toast wafted through the house. Johnny worked most Saturdays since they’d been in Hawkins, having to put their regular Saturday morning breakfasts on hold. It hadn’t felt right to carry the tradition without Sam’s presence, anyway.

Y/n shuffled down the hallway, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she made her way to the eat-in kitchen. “Hey pops,” she said before looking to the stove where she expected to see her dad in his favorite slippers and plaid pajamas, but the figure holding the skillet wasn’t her father.

“Hey there, kiddo!” Sam imitated their fathers gravely morning voice from the years of smoking cigarettes.

“SAMMY!” She shouted in surprise, now fully awake. Y/n dashed over to his open arms to give him a tight squeeze. Sam’s chest shook with laughter at his sister’s excitement.

“Miss me?” He quipped, knowing full well how much his sister had missed him, because he missed her just as much.

“Not a bit.” She said with a smile as she pulled away to look him in the eye.

Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes, turning back to the stove to flip an egg over easy—the way their dad likes them.

Y/n leaned on the counter next to Sam to swipe some toast from the stacked plate, then moved to the fridge for some butter and orange juice.

“When did you get here??” She asked looking over the top of the fridge door. Sam moved their plates to the table and plopped down in the creaky chair.

“Late last night, the old man doesn’t even know I’m here yet.” Sam said, rubbing his hands together like a villain with an evil plan at work. Y/n chuckled, setting down the butter dish and carton then grabbed some silverware and glasses for everyone.

They easily fell back in routine together, as if they never parted. Back in the day when Sam was 7 and Y/n was 5, people confused them for twins more often than not, because you rarely saw one without the other.

Sam had kept up with weekly phone calls back home while he was away, and even wrote twice, but of course it wasn’t the same.

Every Wednesday evening since Sam had been away, Johnny and Y/n would sit on the sofa with the phone in between them to talk to Sam for an hour or so. Sam would tell them about the interesting things he’d learned in class and the fun places to eat and “socialize”.

Of course, the weekly phone calls were nice, but with their dad being on the phone, Sam never got to tell her the real juicy stuff about college he’d been dying to experience.

It was no secret that Sam was wild, he was the life of almost every party, even Johnny knew his son was a little feral. But something else everyone knew about Sam was that he was genuinely a good boy through and through.

Sam always seemed to know what to say to people, whether it’s to break the ice, or stop a fight, Y/n had yet to see a situation Sam couldn’t ease.

“He typically works Saturdays, but this is his off day, so he should be up any minute now.”

Sam sipped his orange juice and raised his eyebrows. Before quickly setting the glass down. “Should we scare him?” He asks mischievously.

Crunching on her overdone toast, Y/n cranes her neck to see down the hallway, noticing her father’s door was cracked, and light peered through, confirming he was awake.

She nodded vigorously, both of them scooting out of their chairs hurriedly to find the perfect hiding spot.

“Where can I even fit??” Sam hissed, referring to his tall stature.

“The pantry!” Y/n quickly suggests.

She opens the door and hurriedly shoves Sam inside, the clumsy boy knocking over a stack of canned peas.

As she’s quietly closing the door behind him, Y/n hears the familiar creak of her dad’s door opening.

She sat down at the table, nervously eyeing Sam’s half-finished plate of runny eggs and toast, hoping it wouldn’t ruin the surprise.

Johnny made his way around the corner, sleep still lingering in his eyes. His greying hair, normally kept very tidy, was flat on one side where he slept. His warm moccasins shuffled against the floor as he approached his daughter, giving her a gentle head pat.

“Mornin’, darlin’” he mumbled while suppressing a yawn. “Awful nice of you to cook our breakfast, did you have a chance to put on some coffee?” He asked, moving Sam’s plate over to another space without any thought.

Y/n stifled a chuckle before speaking louder than normal. “Oh, no, I didn’t, but I think there’s some in the pantry.”

Johnny nodded and shuffled on over to the corner of the room where the closet was. As soon as he turned the knob, Sam popped out with a, “MORNIN’ DAD!” holding the coffee can out to him.

Their fathers’ light eyes shot open like Y/n’s had at the surprise visit. “WHAT THE HELL—Sam! What are you doing in there, boy??” Johnny laughed as he pulled his son down to him for a hug and fond pat on the back.

“Why didn’t you tell us on the phone you were coming? We could’ve had the spare room done up for you!” He rambled, overwhelmed with happiness to have both of his kids under the same roof for the first time in a month.

“Where’s the fun in that? I decided on Thursday I’d come down for the weekend, especially since I wanted to hear allll about sister’s first week.” Sam said, reaching over to ruffle Y/n’s hair while she swatted at him.

“Well, I can assure you; it hasn’t been nearly as eventful as your month at college.” She finished with a sip of her orange juice. Sam rolled his eyes at his sister’s inability to talk about herself.

“I’ll be the judge of that later, but for now you need to get ready.” He said expectantly, biting into his toast.

Johnny quietly fixed his plate by the stove and grabbed his ceramic mug to move to his seat at the table.

“For what?” Y/n questioned, an uncertain tone to her voice. Sam finished the rest of his eggs, using the toast to soak up the rest of the runny egg yolk, making Y/n want to hurl.

“Could you not do that next to me, that’s disgusting.” She wrinkled her nose at him as he chewed obnoxiously. “Try before you deny, sis, you can’t say anything is gross without trying it first.”

“I have eaten enough eggs next to you to know that the runny yokes are not for me.”

She stood and cleared the rest of her plate into the garbage and rinsed it before placing it in the sink. “Enough about the eggs alright, just go get some clothes on and show me around this place.” Sam suggested.

“Why do we have to go out?” She asked.

“Aw, c’mon, let’s explore! I know you haven’t been out and around yet, so let’s do it together!”

Johnny looked over the top of his morning paper, to contribute a “He’s right, you know,”

Y/n shot her dad a look of betrayal. “What? I think it’s a great idea for you to get to know the town together, you weren’t gonna go out on your own, were you?” Their dad asked with a knowing look.

Y/n rolled her eyes and turned around without another word. She shuffled to the doorway, shoulder checking her brother as she passed.

Y/n stopped and turned at the frame and leaned against it momentarily. “…can I pick the music?” She said quietly.

“The bronco is ready to roll whenever you are.” He answered—shoulder checking her, like she did him, on his way to retrieve his bag from the living room.

After Y/n found a more ‘suitable’ outfit, she met Sam in the living room—both of them fixing their belts around their waists.

“All set?” He asked.

Y/n nodded, holding up her bag as evidence.

“Bye, dad.”

“See ya, pops!” They said rushing out the door, the screen door swinging shut behind them as their dad waved a slice of toast in ‘farewell’.

Y/n never thought she’d be so happy to see the bronco, she couldn’t wait to feel the familiar velvet seats under her touch.

Sam unlocked his door first, almost diving across the cab to unlock the passenger side. Y/n placed her bag between them as they slammed their doors shut.

As Sam turned the ignition, Y/n searched through her tapes for their favorite tape by The Smiths.

She loaded it into the tape deck, What Difference Does It Make starts while he backs out of the drive carefully.

“Okay, tell me EVERYTHING.” He said with wide eyes and an eager smile. “About what?” She asked, purposely being difficult.

“AbOuT wHaT? You know what,” he took the opportunity to shove her shoulder. “School! How’s it hanging?? Make any friends? Did you join a club?”

“Well actually...” she started with a smirk

Sam screeched with glee and drummed the steering wheel in anticipation. “Aghhhh!!! I knew there’d be something to tell! “

Y/n laughed at her brother’s dramatics. “Shut up, so I can tell you!”

Sam nodded, bringing a hand to his mouth to literally ‘wipe the look off his face’ and put it back down on the wheel.

“So, the first few days were pretty unremarkable, my classes are okay, but math still sucks. Anyway, yesterday I took it upon myself to track down some bud here, and while it was a trialing journey, I met a few friends along the way.” She said as she dramatically brought a hand to her heart.

“Do tell!” Sam urged with his eager eyes glued to the road, just coasting around the streets downtown to scope out their options.

“In biology, I made friends with, wait for it, the head cheerleader, she was so nice and even invited me to her boyfriend’s party coming up, but I doubt I go just yet.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully, probably already seeing her point of view on the party matter.

“Since she knows everything about everyone, I asked her who I should buy from and she told me about this guy, Eddie Munson.” Her eyes turned a little dreamy as his name came from her lips.

“Ooh, Eddie Munson,” Sam wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Y/n scoffed and rolled her eyes away from her brother.

“What, I said his name, that doesn’t mean anything!”

“You didn’t even tell me your cheerleader friend’s name, not to mention the heart eyes. But, please, continue the story and prove me wrong.” He said smugly.

Y/n scoffed in shock, not expecting to be called out so severely, and so soon. She took a breath to prepare for the gloating that comes when her brother has found out he’s right about something. Which is irritatingly more often than not.

“Well, anyway, I’ll come back to him later, I gotta tell you about the hit I took in between classes—”

“You WHAT?” Sam slammed on his breaks at the stop sign, thankfully no one was behind them. “Jesus CHRIST, Samuel, what the FUCK?” Y/n exclaimed after being jerked forward.

“Did someone hit you? Did you hit someone??” He asked alarmed yet intrigued.

“Relax, there was a fight next to my locker and I was collateral damage. The hit didn’t hurt like the fall probably would have, but this freshman, Mike, caught me. Turns out, he’s in the same club as Eddie. So, he and his friends were able to pass a note I wrote to him, and I ended up meeting him in the woods behind the football field.”

“That totally doesn’t sound sketchy as shit at all.” Sam said with sarcasm with his head on a swivel, spotting a movie rental store coming up on their left.

“Anyway, I bought a half ounce from the guy, then we hung out and smoked for a while, and it was… really cool.” She finished with a subtle smile, trying to downplay her feelings a touch.

As Sam parked in front of the Hawkin’s Family Video, he burst out laughing. Y/n stared at him in annoyance as he tried to speak through the giggles.

Sam tried to imitate Y/n’s voice by speaking slightly higher pitched and dragging out his words airily and dramatically, “then we hung out for a while, and it was… reallly cooool.” He sighed dreamily out the window.

“Okay, so what, he’s CUTE, SUE ME!” She rolled her eyes, opening her door. “Now drop it, everyone knows everyone here, and I’d rather not have the whole town know about my fleeting teen crushes.” She mumbled as they met on the sidewalk.

Sam pulled open the door, and a bell sounded through the store. “You wanna take that side, and I check over here?” He asked as he eased over to the far side of the gallery.

Y/n nodded, and Sam turned all the way around to start his search for the perfect film. Her eyes scanned her side of the room, taking in the rom/coms to her right. She kept her eyes on the displays, looking for something familiar first.

The Family Video was empty and quiet with the exception of the radio for background music, and the shuffling of what Y/n assumed to be tapes coming from the back.

“We’ll be with you in just a moment!” She heard a friendly voice call from behind the cracked ‘employees only’ door.

Neither Sam nor Y/n responded, just continued to browse the store in silence until two people emerged from the back.

“Welcome to Family Video, is there anything I can help you with?” A girl asked, suddenly appearing next to Y/n, making her jump.

“Oh, uh, I’m not looking for anything particular, but I’m open to suggestions if you have any.” Y/n said to the girl with the name tag reading ‘Robin’

“You’re new, right?” Robin asked with quiet curiosity. Y/n nodded slightly, keeping her eyes forward as she felt the familiar tightness in her chest.

“I’m Robin, we have algebra together, I think.” She said even though she knew for a fact they shared the class.

Y/n allowed herself to meet Robins eyes this time, and when she did, she felt the tension in her chest fade. Something about Robin was very comforting, there was a certain quality about her being that told Y/n she shouldn’t have to be so anxious for this interaction.

“I’m Y/n L/n,” she said, reaching a hand out for a proper shake. Their rings clanked together when they clasped, and they shared a chuckle. “Well Y/n, recommendations are the main reason I chose to work at a movie store, follow me!” Robin said enthusiastically.

Robin skittered across the store to the side Sam was currently occupying with another store employee.

“Wait a minute, so you’re telling me that you’re a college man and you haven’t seen the Breakfast Club yet?” The guy said with genuine surprise, and maybe a little offense.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying! What am I missing from another teen flick starring Estevez and Ringwald? Absolutely nothing.” Sam concluded with a teasing shrug.

Y/n had seen Sam look at a guy the way he did presently, but only with his friend Derek.

Sam and Derek were really close throughout high school. They were both popular upperclassmen, ran in the same circles, and played soccer together. That’s how they met freshman year— during tryouts.

Derek spent a lot of time at their house, lots of times the boys would camp out on the couches for the weekend and run around town together, always inviting Y/n along.

Sam was really sad when Derek’s dad insisted he pursued sports at Yale, instead of letting Derek apply at Bloomington with Sam like he wanted to.

Y/n didn’t hear about Derek for a long time after that, and didn’t want to ask about him and hurt Sam. She’d never been close enough with anyone to know what it’s like to lose a friend. Let alone a best friend.

But Sam had this special glint in his eye reserved for charming people out of their wits, and it seemed as though he had it on max while talking to this guy.

“Ugh, excuse him, he tries to pitch The Breakfast Club to anyone looking for a recommendation.” Robin rolled her eyes over the top of the shelf in front of Y/n.

“No no no no no, it’s not just another teen flick, man, you gotta give it a shot! Don’t you think a message about the dangers of societal pressure is important? And different??” The guy with the tag reading ‘Steve’ urges with conviction. Sam finds it very cute amusing and gives a chuckle.

“C’mon, if it sucks, I’ll pay you the money back you spend on renting it.” He offered with a nudge to Sam’s elbow on his way past, heading behind the counter.

Y/n looks at Sam with raised brows and surprise lining her eyes. Sam grins smugly and returns the look to her with sarcasm as he follows Steve up to the counter, accepting his offer.

Robin comes around the corner to show Y/n two picks: The Apartment and Child of Paradise.

“I know what you’re thinking, ‘I’d prefer something from this decade’ right? Well hear me out, both of these, while ancient—showcase the complexities and moral ambiguities in love and life, you know what I mean? If you totally hate it, I can definitely help you find someth—“

“No, no, no—I’ll take both.” Y/n said, knowing she’d watch them at some point in her free time, also knowing she couldn’t bear to disappoint Robin after she passionately pleaded her case for her film choices.

Robin’s eyes lit up and eagerly turned on her heel to add the two films to their purchase. Y/n approached the counter and stood next to Sam as Steve scanned the movies and Robin bagged them up.

Sam backed up slightly to peruse the snacks displayed below the countertop, innocently asked his sister, “See anything you like?”

Y/n looked at Sam to nod, knowing full well she only ate m&ms. So, wordlessly, he picks them up for her when he grabs his starbursts. “So cute.” Robin scoffed, shaking her head as Steve nodded in agreement.

“Got anything interesting going on tonight or is it just a cozy night in?” Steve said expectantly. Y/n furrowed her brow in confusion while Sam did his best to stifle a cackle but failed.

“That’s great, that’s really great, a first, too!” He said shaking his sister’s shoulder. “No, uh, this is my sister, Y/n.” He explained.

Robin and Steve paled in embarrassment and fumbled for words, not for long before Sam assured them it was okay and explained how they’ve been mistaken for twins before but never a couple.

“I’m just in town for the weekend, wanted to see the sister after her first week.” He nodded and put the snacks on the counter.

Steve looked to Y/n fully for the first time, “you’re new at Hawkins High?” He asked.

“That’s what he said, dingus.” Robin taunted as she put the snacks in the bag and rang up the rest of their purchase.

“$12.76, please.” She said politely.

Sam opened his black leather wallet that used to belong to their dad and handed her some bills. “I’m a junior,” She nodded, answering Steve. He gave her a small smile and slid the bag over to Sam, who wasn’t moving to leave just yet.

“So, any interesting plans, or is it movie night?” Steve asked them, rephrasing his question from before. “I dunno, what else is there to do here?” Sam shrugged.

Steve and Robin shared a look, plainly showing their silent conversation. Robin’s eyes read optimism, while Steve’s said apprehension. “Well…” Robin started. Sam leaned in, as he does when things get interesting.

“Our friend has a thing going on tonight at this bar called the Hideout, have you heard of it?” She asked looking between Y/n and Sam. The siblings looked to each othe,r and Y/n shook her head. “Well, do you listen any metal?” Robin asked.

Sam looked to his sister with excitement, “As a matter of fact..” he raised his eyebrows, waiting for her response.

“I do, and he does by association.” Y/n answered keeping her eyes on her brother.

“You guys should totally come!” Robin said with more enthusiasm. “But I don’t have a fake ID.. ” Y/n said feeling bad to ruin the mood.

“No worries, this place never cards. Plus, you won’t even have to sit at the bar, it’ll be so inconspicuous it’s insane.” Robin assured.

Sam looked at Y/n, waiting for her say so. Sam really didn’t want her to spend another school year inside. He wanted her to live. And he knew she was capable of putting herself out there now. It was just a matter of doing it again, and if she was willing.

Y/n knew how much she didn’t want to disappoint her brother, and herself for that matter. She knew how much fun she was capable of having. How bad could it be? Worst case scenario they get kicked out and she never has to go back.

“What time?” She asked

Y/n nervously spun her hair around her finger as she sat in front of the mirror, waiting for the clock to flash 8:45 so they could leave

She dressed a little out of her comfort zone but wore a flannel for safety and her jean jacket for warmth. At 8:35 she couldn’t stand it anymore and grabbed her bag to leave.

Y/n walked down the hallway to Sam’s room, knocking on the cracked door. Sam opened it swiftly, with his jacket in hand. “I’m antsy.” She spoke.

“Care to show me this bud you bought from your drug dealer?” He asked nonchalantly. “I thought you’d never ask.” She said as she turned on her heel to leave the house.

Their dad was already in bed, so they made sure to shut the door quietly and lock it behind them. Y/n skipped to the car, ready to listen to some tunes and hotbox in a parking lot with her brother again.

When the engine roared to life, they drove to the address Robin and Steve had given them, making sure to mention that the bar was a few miles outside of town and that they’d be there at 9:00.

The siblings rolled the windows down and turned up the radio when Rebel Yell by Billy Idol played. Y/n’s hair whipped around her wildly, but she was too busy obnoxiously singing at the top of her lungs with Sam to care that it was going to be a knotted mess when they came to a stop shortly.

When they reached the outskirts of town and saw the red neon sign glowing in the distance, Y/n reached for the pencil case in her bag, filled with the prerolls Eddie rolled just for her.

Sam parked behind the bar and turned off the engine and lights to remain unseen. He kept the battery on, so the radio continued to play, the light illuminated the back exterior of the bar and into the cab just enough. Y/n opened her pencil case and plucked out two joints.

“Whoa there, tiger, two?” He looked at her questioningly. She shrugged, “C’mon, special occasion? I’m a big girl now, chill.” She said placing the joints between her lips and digging her lighter out of her pocket.

Sam shook his head, holding his hand out waiting for her to hand one to him. When she got the light started, she puffed quickly to get them going and handed one to him.

“Windows up.” He said as he held it in his teeth, rolling the window up manually and nodding for her to do the same. “We’re going to smell like shit, Sam.” She said, obeying anyway.

“We’re going to smell anyway!” He said as a matter of fact. Y/n didn’t respond, she just puffed, and kept her eye glued to the clock on the dash.

8:47

They had exactly 13 minutes for her to get as tranquil as possible, and it was a challenge she was willing to accept.

Sam switched the radio over to the cassette deck and This Charming Man by The Smiths played, the upbeat track causing his head to bop wildly. He passionately lip synced to Morrisey, Y/n watching and not bothering to suppress her laughter.

She rolled down the window slightly to knock off her ashes, but as she did so she heard the crunching of gravel under shoes approaching the vehicle.

There was no use in ditching the joints, the smoke was too thick and wafting up to the stars as a couple of familiar faces ducked down to the window of the Bronco.

“Hey-o, I didn’t know it was this kinda party!” Robin said cheerfully.

“Ahhh! So glad you guys could make it, hop in!” Sam said with an inviting wave of his hand, visibly baked.

Y/n reached behind her and unlocked the back door for the two to crawl in. Robin and Steve clamored into the car and shut the door swiftly behind them.

Steve mumbled a soft greeting, looking to both Y/n and Sam, but Y/n could’ve sworn she saw something more flash across his face when he met eyes with Sam.

“There’s plenty to go around.” Y/n said to Robin as she offered the doobie. Robin smiled and gave a “thanks!” before accepting it and letting her head fall into rhythm with the beat of the next song on the mixtape.

“Ugh, Time After Time, love.” Robin sighed dreamily as she passed it to Steve.

Sam kept his eyes on Steve the whole time he took his dreadfully slow hit, then inhaling the smoke through his nose. Robin looked from Steve to Sam and then back to Steve, and then to Y/n.

Steve’s eyes met Sam’s, the two sharing a small smile before Steve let out a monstrous snort that quickly evolved into a coughing fit.

“See, Harrington, there is such thing as too much too fast.” Robin chided while patting his back supportively. Y/n chuckled at their antics. Steve regained control of his breathing, his cheeks and forehead were flushed pink, and his eyes overflowed with tears.

“You’re about to have the best time though!” Robin encouraged as Steve handed the joint to Y/n, and Sam handed his joint to Robin.

“Ooh! Double doobies, love it.” Steve said as the effect seemingly rushed over him. He propped his cheek against the side of Y/n’s head rest, observing how she expertly pulled a thick drag from the joint and nearly swallowed the whole cloud.

She let out a couple of baby coughs before clearing her throat, taking a deep breath, and handing it over to her brother who decided it was too short to hit anymore and stamped it out in the ashtray.

Robin glanced at the clock as Steve passed on his turn and sent the doobie straight to Y/n. “It’s 8:58, we better head in before he goes on!” She exclaimed as Y/n handed the joint to Sam since he lost his last turn.

Steve nodded with heavy eyes and turned to open the door, as Y/n and Sam cracked the windows to let the car air out. The teens exited the vehicle rather briefly, the cold starting to bite at their exposed skin and putting pep in their step.

Y/n and Robin walked ahead of Sam and Steve, the girls wrapping their jackets around themselves and giggling when they stumbled into one another.

When they reached the sidewalk rounding the front of the building, they stopped and waited for the boys to catch up. “C’mon slow-pokes!” Robin shouted through cupped hands.

Steve made a remark to Sam, causing them to share a laugh right before they broke into a run simultaneously. Robin and Y/n continued to the front, the closer they got the door the louder the sounds from inside became. The parking lot was fairly busy, college kids were flocked around a few vehicles in the lot, groups heading inside.

The boys rounded the corner, their laughter announcing their presence. “Welcome to the Hideout.” Steve said easily as he opened the door for the group. Robin motioned for Y/n to follow her through the heavy black door and into the dimly lit building.

Y/n’s eyes scanned around the room, the only lights came from the stage are in the back, and the neon signs covering the walls. The bar stools were filled, as were most of the small tables, but Steve quickly spotted a table in the back corner of the dance floor, to the far left of the stage, not far from an emergency exit.

“Alrighty, I’ll take it from here, Buckley.” Steve said, shuffling his way to the front of the group to lead. He held his hand up like a tour guide and walked at a determined pace to the table.

Steve sat with his back to the wall, Y/n taking the seat in the corner, Robin to the right of her, and Sam to the right of Robin, across from Steve.

Sam shot Steve another one of those charming looks, earning Sam a not-so-subtle smile from Steve, and a suspicious look from Robin.

“I’m gonna get drinks, what does everyone want?” Steve asked as he fixed his jacket to the back of his chair and stood with his hands on his hips.

“I’ll come with you, you’re gonna need extra hands.” Sam volunteered almost immediately. Y/n shared a brief look with Robin but wrote it off as nothing.

“Coke, please!” Robin said in a cheerful daze and drummed her hands on the table lightly. “Ooh, I’ll take one too, two cokes, boys.” Y/n said holding up a wiggling number two on her hand.

The boys turned to go to the bar, Y/n noticed Steve put a hand on Sam’s shoulder to lead him to the bar and saw the smile they shared as they started conversation. It was nice to see Sam hang out effortlessly with someone again.

“So, Y/n, you’re a metal fan?” Robin asked as her head rolled around to meet Y/n’s eyes. Y/n admired the freckles that adorned Robins face, and how electrically blue her eyes were. She typically didn’t like it when people did blue eyeliner, but on Robin it fit.

��I am a metal fan! Are you?” Y/n asked, effortlessly following the rules of conversation her brother taught her long ago. “I like some songs, but I’m no metal head like Eddie.” Robin chuckled as the boys returned.

Eddie?

Eddie, Eddie?? How many metal-head Eddie’s could there possibly be in Hawkins?

Before she had the chance to ask for clarification, Steve and Sam returned with the drinks. Sam set the girls drinks in front of them and took his seat next to Robin while Steve sat Sam’s brewski in front of him with a smile.

Robin couldn’t help but roll her eyes at Steve, covering it up by taking a drink out of her glass. Suddenly, microphone feedback echoed through the bar followed by a group entering the stage and someone adjusting the color of the stage lighting to a red that matched the neon sign outside.

“Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to The Hideout’s Open Mic Night!” A burly man leaned down to the mic stand to greet the crowd. “We’ve got some talented groups here with us, and we hope you guys are ready to throw back some drinks and get loud!” He rang out as the whole bar went wild.

“Let’s get rockin’!” He threw up some devil horns as he exited the stage, and the first group took their places.

Y/n sipped her drink nervously, letting her eyes adjust to the front of the room but not before Robin obscured her vision by leaning in front of her. “There he is, Steve, there he is!” Robin whispered and patted Steve’s arm in excitement. After she sat back, Y/n’s eyes met the tall, gorgeous figure now commanding the room.

“Uhh, hi,” he let out with a coy laugh and adjusted the stand as someone in the back cheered. “We’re Corroded Coffin.” He said with a nod and slipped his guitar over his shoulder.

The drummer tapped his drumsticks, counting off before Eddie and the bassist jumped together with the beginning of the song. Eddie plucked lightly creating the haunting melody, while the bass and drums provided the bassline.

A crowd soon gathered in front of the platform, covering most of his bottom half. Y/n settled back into her seat, bringing one knee to her chest and shrugging her jacket off to get comfortable. Eddie approached the mic before the drums intensified and then finally brought his own playing to a halt while letting the echo of his guitar hum.

He leaned into the mic scanning over the room before singing in his alluring rasp:

“Your cruel device, your blood like ice,”

Y/n leaned forward, propping her elbow on the table, fully enamored by his voice. She was so zeroed in on Eddie she didn’t even recognize the song he played.

“One look could kill, my pain your thrill...”

Eddie began to pick again while the drums pounded to a climax. “I wanna love you but I better not touch,” the audience echoed after Eddie, eating it up and losing their minds.

Sam head whipped around to Y/n with wide eyes “isn’t this your favorite song right now??” he asked excitedly.

Y/n hadn’t noticed her jaw had fallen slack until everyone was looking at her for an answer. She nodded, quickly returning her attention to Eddie. “This is your favorite song?!” Robin shouted, shifting in her seat to get up.

“That’s our friend, Eddie Munson!” Steve said, matching Robin’s volume and nodding his head to the beat. Sam’s eyes snapped back to Y/n’s while replying to Steve. “Eddie Munson, you said?” a smug smile working its way onto his face.

Y/n shook her head at her brother before a very hyper Robin yanked her up by her arm to drag her to the crowded dance floor. “Are we really doing this?” Y/n asked only slightly panicked as they entered the sea of bodies.

“It’s your favorite song, of course we are!” Robin said before emulating the hyped-up head bangers surrounding them. Y/n laughed, starting to feel the head rush from the weed hitting her harder.

She turned her attention back to Eddie, who hadn’t noticed her yet. He held the audience captive with his charisma and hypnotic rendition of Poison by Alice Cooper.

Before she knew it, she was jumping alongside Robin, whipping her hair around, and singing with the rest of the bar. Robin couldn’t help the giggle fits when she finally got to see Y/n loosen up.

As the crowd continued to shift throughout the song, Robin and Y/n were slowly pushed up to the front of the stage, much to their delight. A thin sheen coated their skin, their baby hairs around their faces clinging in place.

Eddie spent a few moments with his eyes closed, soaking up his moment and feeling like he could never ever find a feeling that beat this one right here.

Y/n and Robin stood to Eddie’s right at the stage, leaning their forearms on the edge to catch a breath. As the drum pounded, the crowd bordering the stage hit their fists in time with the bass, bringing Eddie a satisfied smile.

Y/n was glad her brother couldn’t see the heart eyes that she wore currently, and quite honestly, she wasn’t even thinking about her brother, or Robin for that matter. Just Eddie.

As the chorus played out for the last time, Eddie opened his eyes to scan the crowd, wanting to engrain every face that was present for the best night of his life.

Until his gaze came upon the ethereal face, he’d been thinking of for the past 24 hours straight, singing passionately with him.

“Your mouth, so hot, Your web, I’m caught” she turned to sing to the girl next to her, who Eddie could’ve sworn was Robin but the detail felt very unimportant at the time. All he could focus on was the way her lips looked when she sang the scandalous lyrics.

“Your skin so wet, Black lace, on sweat.” He watched as she tilted her head back dramatically, shaking her hair out down her back and exposing the column of her neck that he loves so much and wished so desperately to have access to.

“I hear you calling and it’s needles and pins,” his eyes were unmoving from her, absolutely mesmerized by the way her hair bounced around her as she jumped in time with the music, her own eyes closed and an impossibly big grin on her lips.

“I wanna hurt you just to hear you screaming my name, don’t wanna touch you but you’re under my skin,” Her eyes finally opened to see his gaze found hers, and she couldn’t help but melt a little at the way he was looking at her, as if she were the only person in the room that mattered.

“I wanna kiss you but your lips are venomous poison,” he sang with a wink in her direction, causing her to avert her eyes and a heat to crawl up her neck.

“I don’t wanna break these chains!” The crowd echoed to Eddie when he held out the mic at the closing of the song, feeling like a god.

The lights went out on the stage as the audience applauded and cheered their exit into the back with the second act coming on nervously. The lights came back on while a few skinny dudes prepared their instruments.

The crowd’s roar quieted to the usual bar chatter while Sam and Steve approached the girls from behind with a few shots.

“Alright, party people, bottoms up before the next act.” Steve said while passing out the small glasses to the girls. “I’m willing to bet it’s gonna be something by either Mötley Crüe or Cinderella,” Sam said as he clinked his small glass with each of them.

Y/n’s eyes felt droopy from the energy spent on moshing, and her limbs felt slightly gelatinous from the joints they split. She clinked her glass with Steve last before they drained them and handed them back to the guys to deal with. Y/n ignored the dull ache sinking through her as she scanned the room behind her for the man on her mind.

“We are The Ex Catholic Kids.” The front man mumbled quietly into the mic before the starting beats to Metal Health by Quiet Riot boomed through the bar.

“Good thing you didn’t bet, right?” Steve said to Sam with an audible smirk from behind the two girls. “Right you are, but I hope you guys are ready, because we get kinda wild to this one.” Sam said casually before grabbing Y/n’s hand to join the forming mosh pit in front of the stage.

Y/n’s careless laughter bounded out of her as she resumed her frivolous flailing, not bothered by all the other bodies and whipping hair around her.

The siblings kept a grip on each other’s forearms for safety, not letting the other get carried away by the waves of people.

“BANG YOUR HEAD!” They yelled to each other and resuming their dancing, if that’s what you could call it.

“Metal health will drive you mad!”

Around that time is when Eddie and his band mates, Gareth and Jeff, emerged from the back after packing away their instruments and collecting themselves from the epic performance they just gave.

Eddie’s eyes searched for Steve and Robin, and more importantly, the girl of his dreams that was suddenly nowhere to be seen. He spied Robin and Steve at the edge of the crowd, seemingly waiting for him.

Steve spotted Eddie approaching and nudged Robin to get her attention. When Robin saw Eddie, she ran to meet him halfway, stumbling into him for an awkward congratulatory hug. “Eds! That was phenomenal.” She slurred slightly as she released him from her grip and Steve joined them to give Eddie a fond shoulder pat.

Eddie narrowed his eyes at the two, examining their eyes carefully. “Are you guys wasted?” He asked suspiciously. Robin and Steve attempted to stifle their laughter but failed, giving them up immediately.

“We just had a shot,” Steve said, for whatever reason trying to explain their current state.

“—and two joints.” Robin confessed with a laugh and knocking Steve’s shoulder with her own causing him to burst into uncontrollable laughter with her.

Gareth and Jeff shared a laugh with Eddie before wading through the crowd to get their drinks.

Before Eddie could ask, a lightbulb visibly went off in Robin’s head. “Eds! You’re not gonna believe it, we brought friends! And you played her favorite song, how fun is that?” She said over the music.

Eddie scanned the crowd for her angelic face, before spotting her with Sam, which made his heart sink, no—plummet to the bottom of his stomach.

They looked so natural together, and happy... and close. He envied the way the guy gripped her arm as they moshed together, keeping her safe like he would if it were him. Robin’s chatter faded into the back of Eddie’s mind as he observed the two singing and laughing.

“There they are!” Robin exclaimed as she pointed to the couple Eddie held under his surveillance. He watched as Y/n and her guy returned, his hand on her shoulder carefully guiding her through the crowd.

Y/n’s eyes met Eddie’s, butterflies swarming through her chest and throat. She couldn’t quite make out the look behind his eyes, but whatever it was she was confused. He looked like he was holding his breath, his jaw clenched, and his eyes shined more than usual, maybe it was the stage lights that flashed red, blue, and, yellow on a loop.

Sam took his hand off Y/n now they were out of the crowd and took his position next to Steve, leaving Y/n with Robin and Eddie. She looked up at Eddie, observing how he avoided her gaze to look at his reeboks.

“Hey, Stranger.” She said over the crowd singing along, nudging his elbow with her own. Eddie couldn’t fight the smile her voice brought him and gave into the urge to look into her eyes. He wanted to say something—anything, desperately, but the ache in his throat didn’t allow him to.

Before he could manage a reply, Robin took it upon herself to make introductions. “Eddie, this is Y/n and her brother, Sam! They’re new in Hawkins and you’ll never believe it, she’s a total metal-head!” She said excitedly.

Realization hit Eddie like a truck; the guy was her brother, not her boyfriend.

“Is that so?” He asked, looking down at Y/n with the dreamy look he wore on stage washing over him again. A shy smile grew on Y/n’s lips as the third band of the night started Nobody’s Fool by Cinderella.

“I called it! I called it!!! Cinderella, baby, WOOO!” Sam hollered from the table while Steve cackled like a fool and stomped his feet in his laughing fit. Y/n felt a blush fill her cheeks at her brother’s drunken antics.

“He a Cinderella fan, I presume?” Eddie asked, breaking the tension. Y/n let out easy laughter and shook her head “Eh, tonight he is, I guess.” She said looking back at Sam, who was currently swaying with an open lighter raised above his head.

Robin scampered off to join Steve and Sam at the table, leaving Eddie and Y/n alone, finally. “You were really great,” she tried to say over the crescendo of the song and the cheers from the pleased crowd.

Eddie leaned down closer to her, the familiar spice in his cologne further intoxicating her. “What was that?” He asked.

“You were really great!” She said, raising up on her toes slightly to get a bit closer. Eddie eyes lit up at the compliment and silently thanked the stage lights for covering up his blush.

“I’m glad you liked it, it’s pretty lucky you got to be here when we played your song, huh?” He asked as his friends approached him with a beer stein for him.

“My song?” She asked with a smile. Eddie felt flustered. ‘Your song? Really??’

“I-I, I meant your favorite song, unless it’s changed between yesterday and today?” He fumbled for recovery, but still managed to make her laugh a little. Eddie took a nervous sip as Gareth clapped his shoulder, jostling him a bit.

“Eds! Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend here?” He said with a sickly sweet smile, knowing exactly what he’s doing to cramp Eddie’s style, or at least waver his confidence a little.

Eddie couldn’t help the steel look he shot Gareth momentarily before turning his lips up into a tight smile. “Of course! Y/n, these are my band mates, Gareth and Jeff. Gentleman, this is Y/n L/n she goes to school with us now.”

Y/n wasn’t always great at feeling out other people’s emotions but she could feel the tension emanating from Eddie, not knowing she is the source of his anxiety. She lifted a hand from her side in greeting, wishing she had a cup to hold or a joint to smoke.

“Nice to meet you.” She said with a pleasant smile that made Eddie want to swoon. Gareth smiled back at her in a way that made Eddie want to take him out as if he were the quarter back on a football field.

“Is this the very Y/n that kept you so late from Hellfire last night?” Gareth looked to Eddie with intrigue and raised brows.

Eddies answer caught in his throat along with embarrassment, and he felt awful for wishing Gareth would leave or disintegrate before he had to answer. Instead, Y/n answered for him. “I am! Sorry, I had him rolling up with me all afternoon.” She laughed easily with a captivating shine to her eye.

Gareth laughed along with her briefly before Sam approached the boys surrounding his sister. “Make some friends, Y/n?” Sam asked expectantly, his eyes immediately looking over Eddie up close.

“Sam, Y/n’s brother,” he held his hand out to Eddie as Y/n rolled her eyes at her brother, now wishing he would go away or disintegrate.

“Eddie Munson, good to meet you.” He said with a cordial smile, praying that Sam didn’t feel how sweaty his palm was. “That was awesome, really, I don’t know how Y/n will go back to wearing out that Alice Cooper tape now.” He nudged his sisters shoulder with a smile.

A knowing smile spread across Gareth’s face “Ohhkay, now I know why you suddenly took me up on my idea to play Alice Cooper, isn’t that right, Munson?” Gareth teased Eddie quietly as Sam made his way back to the table with Steve and Robin who were now diving into some wonderful looking bar food.

“What?” Y/n asked, not fully hearing Gareth’s revelation. “Nothing, nothing, he thinks we should go get a drink,” he shouted over his shoulder as he grabbed Y/n by the wrist and lead her through the room.

Y/n used the crowd as an excuse to stay close to Eddie, and thanked herself silently for wearing a shirt that showed more chest than usual. Eddies palm splayed wide across her lower back as he ushered her onto a bar stool.

“What’s your poison?” He asked her as he set down his beer. Y/n looked at the shelf of bottles behind the bar, swallowing lightly. “Um, coke.” She looked at him, the warm lighting illuminating his face beautifully and allowing her to admire his brown eyes she loved so much.

He let out a wry laugh at her answer and shrugged, ordering her a coke with the bartender. “So hows that half treating you?” He asked as their drinks were set in front of them, Y/n taking a long sip before responding.

“Fantastic, really. It’s down to a quarter now probably.” She said looking at him through heavy lidded eyes.

Eddie chuckled and glanced back at Robin and Steve, still giggling it up with Sam, who had taken to giving a performance of his own to his new friends.

“Glad I could help Harrington get the stick out of his ass.” He directed his attention back to Y/n who looked at him intently with the familiar glassy eyes he couldn’t shake from his mind. She chuckled and took another drink, which gave Eddie the opportunity to admire the way her hair draped over her shoulder so deliciously.

“So, what do you think of the Hideout? “ he asked, shooting the breeze. Y/n shrugged as she set her glass on the bar. “It’s grimy, but I find it endearing.” She spoke. “Grimy and endearing, huh?” He laughed.

“Yeah, like someone else I know.” She said wryly. His eyes found hers as his heart skipped a beat. She thought he was endearing. “So, um, how long have you been friends with Steve and Robin?” She asked, taking his silence as awkwardness.

“Well you know Henderson—Dustin, I mean, right? Steve babysat him and a few of his other friends like Wheeler and Sinclair back when they were in middle school, and he and I also used to go to school together, so when the kids joined Hellfire we had no choice but to interact more often. But turns out he isn’t as big of a pain in the ass as he used to be, so that’s pretty cool. And Robin, she’s sort of a package deal with Steve but I find her more entertaining than I find him, honestly. Didn’t know they smoked, so that’s a pleasant surprise.” He smirked down at his drink.

“What about you?” He asked her, getting the courage to look at her again, his eyes scanning over her face. “Oh, uh, we went to the Family Video earlier, and they talked us into some movies. But then Sam asked Steve what else there was to do around here, and Robin invited us out.” Y/n nodded.

“And here you are.” He said quietly, sneaking a glance at her lips.

“And here I am.” She agreed as his eyes flicked back up to hers. “Do you wanna step out with me? I needa smoke.” He said dismounting his stool.

Y/n glanced back at their table, Sam listened to Steve chatter about something while Robin made additions here and there. Y/n looked back to Eddie who had slid a cigarette into his mouth and grasped his lighter, waiting for her answer. She nodded with quiet eagerness and followed him through the side door next to the bar.

The squeaky swinging door lead out into the ally where the dumpster sat along with two benches presumably for employees to take their breaks. Eddie plopped down in the space next to the dumpster, leaving the one closest to the door free for her. He patted it affectionately as he brought his light up to his cigarette.

She sat almost immediately, her high excusing her brain to ignore any and all ideas that she may come off as too eager. He held out his lit cigarette to her, and she accepted it keeping her eyes on his.

He smiled as he watched her take a drag and lean back against the brick building to gaze above them at the stars. When she exhaled, the smoke left like a prayer from her lips to the sky. He forgot how to speak momentarily, suddenly feeling as if he were in a dream. His hands remembered he needed to light another for himself, that’d help him.

“So what made you play Poison?” She asked directly. Eddie felt his cheeks flush as he fought a small smile. “Gareth has been bugging me to play it for a few weeks now, I couldn’t take his persistence anymore, ya know?” He said with a shrug and a nonchalant drag of his smoke.

Y/n giggled and swatted his arm playfully before leaning back again to admire the sliver of sky carved out by the buildings surrounding them. He paused for a minute before answering her without taking his eyes off her smoking profile.

“Actually this uh, cute little pothead mentioned it.” He shrugged. Y/n’s head whipped around in a cloud of smoke to meet his eyes, spotting an ornery smile on his face.

“Is that so?” She asked before taking a drag to pacify the heart palpitations she was experiencing. Eddie turned to look at the sky himself, spying the moon peeking over the top of the building in front of them.

He nodded lightly, the smile still playing at his lips from before. “Very much so.” He looked to her lips, the way she was ogling his. Neither of them could tell you which of them leaned in first, but the two came so close their noses grazed one another before Robin all but falls through the door, “I’m sure I saw them come through here!” She said, causing the two to lurch apart, making themselves comfortable on either end of the benches, puffing anxiously at their cigarettes.

“See! There you guys are.” She confirmed to the two men following her. “Y/n M/n L/n, is that a cigarette?” Sam scolds teasingly as Y/n covers her face with her free hand in embarrassment at the use of her middle name.

“You’re middle name is M/n?” Eddie asked with an amused smile on his face. Steve and Robin laughed at Sam as he took his sisters smoke from her to hit it himself. Y/n looked back to Eddie and nodded shyly.

He scooted closer to her, not nearly as close as before, but close. “I like it. It’s cute. Like that girl I was talking about.” He said quietly, gently nudging her shoulder and took a drag from his cigarette.

“So uh, Steve and Robs and I were thinking we’d go back to the car to smoke for a bit, would you like to join us?” Sam asked Y/n but referred to Eddie mainly. She looked to Eddie for an answer, but his heart sank as he looked into her eyes again.

“I wish I could, but I have to get the band home...” He said with disappointment lining his words. Y/n nodded understandingly, returning her gaze to her hands in her lap.

Eddie handed her the rest of his cigarette as an idea popped into his head. “I’d also like to give you a ride home, if that’s cool...” he said to her quietly, her gaze meeting his again at the offer.

“Really?” She whispered.

He smiled warmly at her and nodded, “I’ll probably have to drop you off last, you know, cause of my routine stops but I could definitely squeeze you in.” He teased quietly.

Y/n scoffed and rolled her eyes before standing and handing Eddie’s cigarette back to him to approach her brother who was leaned against the door frame listening to Robins theory about cuffed pants and sexuality. “Samuel, I require a word.” She said in a small posh voice, earning a snicker from Sam the Zooted.

He offered his arm like an English gentleman, and she took it in hers as they took a slow stroll down the alley, discussing in hushed voices.

“Eddie wants to drive me home, and I want him to, is that cool?” She asked nervously. Her brother never overstepped when it came to his sister’s decisions on who she spent her time with, while he always held her safety in high regard, he knew he had no say. Despite that, Y/n still respected his opinion when it came to matters such as these.

He stopped to shoot her an eager look. “Absolutely.” He whispered and gave an encouraging squeeze on her arm as they resumed their walk. She briefly leaned her head on his shoulder affectionately before pulling back to ask “So, Steve’s nice...” and shoot him a knowing look.

Sam wouldn’t meet his sisters eyes but wore a smug smile on his lips. “I know. He’s really nice.” He glanced back at the waiting group, Eddie now leaned against the wall to join Robin and Steve’s conversation.

“Cute too, hmm?” She nudged him again.

“Shut uuup.” He rolled his eyes and retracted his arm from her before turning on his heel to return to the group. “Is it cool if we use like two more prerolls?” He asked her, walking backwards with his keys in hand.

Y/n stopped walking when she reached Eddie, Robin and Steve getting up to follow Sam out of the alley. “Yeah, you just gotta help pay for my next restock.” She said with a devious smile. Sam turned all the way back around and flashed his sister the finger before rounding the corner, Robins laughter fading with their shadows on the sidewalk.

Y/n sighed and plopped back down in her seat at the end of the bench. Eddie quickly scooted back close to her til their thighs were touching, to hand her the cigarette she left with him. She thanked him quietly before taking the final drag and squashing it beneath her foot.

“You ready to get outta here?” He asked, his breath tickling her shoulder. When she turned she didn’t expect him to be as close as he was, but she wasn’t complaining.

He observed the curl of her eyelashes, the outline of her face and the way the night breeze carried her flyaways towards him.

She took a deep breath she didn’t know she needed and nodded, the prickly feeling in her throat returning when she caught a whiff of his spicy cologne she wanted to drown in. Eddie couldn’t help himself when his hand raised and traced her cheekbone and down along her jaw and chin, stroking the round of it with his thumb.

Eddie didn’t know it but this simple sweep of his fingers stole her breath away, and she wanted nothing more than to lean into his touch like a lovesick puppy.

“C’mon, let’s get these nerds dropped off.” He said, standing up to get the door, and holding it open for her as she sat—still recovering from the unexpected affection. Eddie snickered as he looked her over, he loved these moments where she didn’t know how to act, as if he had the ability to flip the power switch in her head and steal all ability to function from her.

Y/n finally noticed his waiting and stood abruptly to walk through the open door. She scanned over the crowd for Eddie’s friends and waited for him to take the lead to find them, when she felt his hand on her lower back. She looked up to him as he tentatively pulled her closer to move through the busy crowd, more people seemed to fill the bar than when they left ten minutes ago.

“Over there,” Eddie nodded to Jeff whose arms were waving over the crowd. Eddie placed both hands on Y/n’s shoulders and he steered her in front of him and through the crowd carefully.

“We ready?” Eddie asked, looking between his friends for confirmation. Gareth ran his eyes over Y/n again and raised his eyebrows at Eddie suggestively.

Eddie rolled his eyes with a smile and turned Y/n around by her shoulders to find their way to the front door. Eddie couldn’t help the constant flickering between his hands and her back and shoulders.

He loved the way her hair brushed his hands as they moved, and he was very surprised at the sensation he felt when someone unexpectedly stepped in front of Y/n, bringing her to a halt and Eddie to run into the back of her. His eyes widened at the tightening of his pants that he’d been fighting all night.

Once they made it through the doors, the freezing night air hit them like a ton of bricks, knocking Y/n’s hair straight back much to Eddie’s delight. He could smell her sweet shampoo, and caught a glimpse of the entire expanse of her neck and shoulders, a glimpse he’d be revisiting for late at night for a while.

Y/n immediately shrunk back into herself, grabbing her arms for warmth. Eddie immediately shrugged off his jacket to drape over her shoulders. “Oh gosh, thank you.” She said with the sweetest smile at him.

Eddie bit back a smile and placed his hand back on her to lead her to the van the two other boys were already headed towards at a determined pace. “Anytime.” He said more lovingly than he meant to and rubbed his hands over her shoulders with vigor for warmth as they crossed the road.

The ride with Gareth and Jeff was more fun than Eddie first expected. He was fully prepared for Gareth to try to destroy his façade, or for Jeff to make some dumb remark at something she contributes to conversation, but of course they loved her.

Y/n played disc jockey, locating the tapes everyone requested on their way through town. Jeff was dropped off first, leaving Gareth to cozy up to the front seat the best he could to talk to Eddie and Y/n.

Eddie loved to hear the way Y/n talked with other people, though a small part of him craved all of her attention and found himself going 10 over the speed limit in a residential area. “Jesus Ed, you’re gonna get pulled over. I didn’t think you had that much to drink.” Gareth said, clinging to the head rests of the front seat for dear life since he wasn’t buckled in.

“I didn’t, I just had lead foot for some reason, sorry, dude.” Eddie explained, easing onto the break. Gareth nodded in understanding and got comfortable again as Eddie pulled into his driveway.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Y/n. Eds, until next time.” He reach over the rest to give Eddie a small brotherly handshake and exited through the back doors, closing them with a brisk slam.

Eddie watched Gareth jog up the walkway to the front door, the moment he’d been anticipating was finally here—they were alone.

“Well, you’re next, I suppose.” He said looking her over. Y/n looked at her watch and read 11:37.

“It’s the weekend, Munson, I don’t have a curfew.” She shrugged. Eddie let out an impressed whistle and raised his eyebrows. “Damn, the world really is our oyster isn’t it?” He asked as he backed out of Gareth’s driveway.

“What do you wanna do?” She asked, anxiety tinting her words. He smirked and briefly looked to her with that wonderful, mischievous glint in his eyes before answering, “Nothing legal.”

-

-

-

@munsonsmel0dy @thincrusttheworks

[zafirosreverie]

Por amor al arte (Julieta x Fem!Reader) part 13

part1 < > next

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You took a deep breath as you walked carefully through the cemetery, carrying a bouquet of daisies. You were always filled with a strange peace when you came here as if the souls of the departed were greeting you on the way to the cold cradle of your child.

You weren't always alone, there were often a few other people visiting their dead. You just didn't expect to see her. You didn't know if you should interfere, not wanting to interrupt her moment with Agustín, but from the way her hands dug into the dirt and the heartbreaking movement of her shoulders as she cried, you knew you should at least let her know you were there, just in case she needed something.

"Luisa?" you said, approaching slowly.

The young woman froze for a moment before turning her head slightly to look at you out of the corner of her eye. You could see how she was trying to wipe her tears away, but her hands were dirty and she only managed to stain her face. You tried not to wince too much at the frustrated moan she let out.

"Here" you told her, offering her a handkerchief

“T-thank you”

You nodded and squeezed her shoulder lightly before taking one of the daisies and threading it through her braid.

"I'll be over there if you need anything, sweetheart" you smiled at her and walked away.

Luisa sipped a little and followed you with her eyes. She was confused. She didn't use to come to visit her father's grave because she didn't want anyone to see her like that. It was true that there weren't many people who took advantage of her gift anymore, but that didn't mean that her image of a strong woman who endured everything had dissipated. Even when she accompanied her sisters or her mother, she would always remain silent, holding back her tears.

The first (and only) time she had come alone to cry, a few people had come up to her. Some looked at her with pity and others as if she was being dramatic. She hated that they made her feel bad about missing her father as if she should be over it by now. That's why she hadn't come back until that moment when she couldn't stand the sadness anymore.

She had been thankful that the place was half empty and she didn't think much of it as she fell to her knees and let her tears flow freely. But she didn't expect you to find her. Since that conversation with Dolores about her mother's new feelings for you, Luisa had run away from you a bit. It wasn't that she didn't like you or anything like that, it was just that it was difficult for her to fight with so many feelings inside her.

On the one hand, she wanted mom to be happy, she wanted her to smile again like she used to. But it was too painful to think of someone else hugging and kissing her that wasn't her father. She forced herself to remember Isabela's words: “just because she loves someone else doesn't mean she’s going to replace dad” she had said “her heart is big enough to love us all” her sister had promised.

And she didn't doubt it, but her real concern was something else: if they managed to get you together...would you love them as Agustín had? You were a wonderful mother to Eliza and you got along very well with Isabela, but what about Mirabel and her? Would you love them too? She was afraid to think that the answer was no.

And yet, here you were, offering her the chance to come to you if she needed anything, but without pressuring her. You had not seen her with pity or annoyance, but with understanding and compassion. You had even given her one of the flowers that she now saw were for your son. And you offered her the option to approach you if she wanted to.

Luisa didn't know when her mind made the decision, but she stood up and slowly walked towards you. She didn't know if you had really meant it or if you were just being nice, but looking at her father's grave had suddenly become more difficult and she realized that she didn't want to be alone.

You blinked as a figure approached you and were surprised to see Luisa standing a few feet away, fiddling with her fingers as she stared at the ground. She looked like a little girl who didn't know how to ask her mother for something and you couldn't help but smile at her.

"Hello" she said awkwardly, "c-can I…can I sit with you?"

She looked almost cute with the way her cheeks flushed and looked away as if waiting for you to reject her. Sweet girl.

"Of course" you told her

Luisa looked at you in surprise, but she moved closer to you anyway and sat up when you patted the ground next to you. She didn't miss the fact that you never stopped smiling at her. It wasn't a fake smile as if you didn't really want her there but you were being polite, but it was really a warm smile that invited her to find comfort in you. It reminded her so much of her mother's smile.

You two were silent for a while until you gently took the girl's trembling hand. You knew that she might be feeling a bit uncomfortable, but you would at least try to calm her down a bit. You knew how much it hurt to be alone here.

"How do you do it?" she asked you, at last, subconsciously squeezing your hand a little

"What thing?" you asked, stroking her knuckles with your thumb.

"...come here" she whispered "I...I've seen you come here often...sometimes with mom...how do you make it not hurt so much?"

"It always hurts" you admitted

Luisa finally looked at you, her brows furrowed in confusion. You just smiled at her again and moved a little closer to her, thankful that she didn't back away. The difference in height was almost comical, but she was still a lost child.

"It always hurts to come here" you repeated "...but it would hurt more not to"

She looked at your son's grave for a moment. She just couldn't understand how you could take so much pain, how you could look at that little mound of dirt and not cry. Maybe it was because you were older, maybe because you were a mother…maybe you were just stronger and braver than she would ever be. And for some reason, that made her want to cry again.

"I'm a failure, right?" she whispered. She had no intention of saying it out loud, but she did and you heard it.

"What?" you frowned “Of course not. What makes you think that?"

You were more than ready to go kick some ass if you had to. You knew a lot of people had said horrible things about her when she had no powers, and even now, people would sometimes complain that she wouldn't do as much for them as she used to (seriously, why the hell did they have donkeys if they didn't know how to keep them in their damn stables?!). If someone said something to make her think she was a failure, you were going to break bones and tell Julieta so she wouldn't heal them.

"You come here so often" she told you "...you lost a son and yet you can come almost daily without crying...I couldn't even stay by my father's grave for more than a few minutes without feeling suffocated"

She didn't want to cry anymore in front of you, she really didn't! But then you stood up so you could wrap your arms around her and it took her by surprise. When someone hugged her, they would usually pull her down, almost never trying to move to get on HER level. Only her parents had. And the way your hand undid her bun to free her hair and run your hand over her scalp, finished breaking her reservations.

You were surprised when she buried her face in your stomach and squeezed you tighter, but you managed to keep your balance and let her cry freely on you. It also didn't go unnoticed by you that playing with her hair seemed to help her calm down a bit. Like mother like daughter, huh?

“You shouldn't compare your pain with others’ ” you said softly “Maybe I lost a son, but you said goodbye to your father and neither loss is worse than the other. It's not selfish to feel pain just because you think others have it worse."

"But I'm supposed to be the strong one, I'm supposed to take more"

“No one has the right to ask you to endure more than you can, Luisa” you scolded her softly “No one can tell you how much or how long you can cry. And that doesn't make you any less strong. You are braver than you think."

The girl sobbed more and she squeezed you a little harder, maybe a little too much. It was a bit painful, but you didn't complain. Besides, she seemed to remember that she had her powers back and she loosened her grip on you after a few seconds.

"It doesn't feel like that." She shook her head.

“Mi vida, the bravest and strongest act you can do is to let yourself feel” you whispered into her hair, holding her tightly against you “It takes a lot of strength to get back where you know you'll hurt. And lots of love"

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you think the pantheon is almost always empty?" you asked “Precisely because it hurts. It hurts to have to deal with feelings, pain, sadness. It hurts to remember. It hurts so much more when the love is still there. And not everyone has the courage to face it... but you do. You did it, you are here because the love for your father is stronger than the pain.”

Luisa seemed to process your words as you continued stroking her hair. She had never seen it that way, she thought that crying for him after so many months was something that made her weak. But you made her feel that that wasn't the case, that it was okay and not stupid and for her own good, she was willing to believe you.

You could feel the moment that she really understood your words when her shoulders stopped shaking so much and her breathing began to regulate. She didn't pull away from you right away, but you were fine with that, you just continued to gently scratch the back of her neck, giving her the time she needed to feel a little bit better. 

“...you know” you began tentatively “a while ago I composed a song for Daniel…on behalf of the twins but…he doesn't deserve it. It's yours if you want it."

The girl in your arms thought about it for a moment. She didn't understand why would you give her something so personal, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't curious. So she lightly nodded, still not letting go of you.

"Today I have to tell you dad, that time will not change anything, we will always be together" you began to sing softly "Today I have to tell you dad, I love you, more than anyone, and when I'm by your side all the fear is gone"

Luisa gasped silently. How was it possible that without knowing you before the accident, you could describe so perfectly what she felt for her father? What kind of magic did you have?

“I'm going to grow to your great size” you continued, making her laugh lightly as you ruffled her hair in a soft tease. “And the world I'll see as you do. I will understand you much more and better, and in life I will win”

She finally pulled away from you when you finished singing. She was grateful that you shared something so cute with her and she couldn't help but smile when she realized that the memories of her father weren't so painful anymore.

"You're right" she told you "Daniel didn't deserve it"

You laughed and wiped her cheeks with your thumbs, not caring that your shirt was soaked with her tears. In a merely instinctive act of motherhood, you leaned down to place a soft kiss on her forehead. To Luisa's surprise, it actually comforted her, it felt like a true kiss of motherly love and she knew in that instant that her fears about you were unfounded.

"...can you walk me to daddy's grave?" she asked nervously

"Of course" she answered almost immediately, offering her a hand.

Luisa was surprised, but she quickly stood up and took your hand, letting you guide her to Agustín's grave. When you didn't let her go or show any signs of leaving her alone, she knew that yes, if the plan worked and her mother was going to love someone else, she was more than happy it was you, because it was obvious that you would love her and her sisters and she couldn't ask for more from life.

____________________________

Julieta tag: @emril-osvigne @smolgayhooman