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theasstour · 4 years

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𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟐𝟎.𝟐𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭

A/N: Thank you so incredibly much to each one of you angels who voted for ST in the 1D Craft Awards 🥺 You continue to take my breath away with all your kindness, support and love 🐚🌊✨ ENJOYYY CHAPTER 7! x

Saturday, 25 July

The phone vibrated against the wooden table, jolting Y/N out of her focus. She blinked a few times, looking over at Fatima who turned the timer off and looked at Y/N with expectant eyes. Y/N shook her head and Fatima’s face visibly fell.

“What you mean?”

“I didn’t finish, did I?” Y/N groaned, running her hands over her face, hiding it from view for a few seconds before she sat back in her chair and looked at her laptop in front of her. The two were sitting at Olive’s Café on Island Square, seated on lime green chairs outside, the morning sun beating down on them as each of them tried to do work; Fatima looking through the curriculum she was going to teach this coming year, and Y/N doing her UCAT work. Fatima was a teacher for fourth graders, so she knew how to make things easy to understand, how to pull things apart and study properly. When Fatima had suggested that the two of them take a day together to just study, Y/N had jumped at the opportunity. Now, they had met to do exactly this a few days in a row and Y/N was really starting to feel the effects.

The thought of the UCAT exam coming closer and closer made her want to hurl. September 10th didn’t seem that far away anymore, something that absolutely terrified Y/N. Not only did she need to be out of St Ives by then, leaving her entire life and friends here behind, but she didn’t know where she’d even be. Would she even have enough money? Would she still be in Cornwall? Would she have crawled with her tail between her legs back to Winchester, asking for forgiveness for leaving them all behind?

Fatima pursed her lips, tapping her pen against the top of Y/N’s laptop. “Is it ‘cause you’re stressing too much?”

“Probs.”

“It’s hard not to when it’s important to you.”

Y/N sighed heavily, nodding her head in agreement. “This practice exam… well, it was hard.”

“They usually are, the practice exams,” Fatima explained. “Not necessarily so to scare you, more so that you’ll be aware that this will be hard, but the actual exam isn’t that bad. They never are.”

Y/N gave Fatima a little smile. “Taken the UCAT before?”

“Obvs, I’m the smartest bitch in all of the UK, if not Europe.”

Y/N laughed, quickly sighing again as she looked down at her laptop again. This was the first practice exam she had ever taken; Fatima had timed her to see if she’d make it in the estimated time it took to complete the UCAT, but Y/N hadn’t managed to. She supposed she still had a lot of time to study and prepare herself, but it still made her feel like all her studying had been for absolutely nothing. One failure, even if it didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things, always seemed like the most important thing in the world. How had the world not shifted? How was not everyone around her crying like she felt she should be doing?

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Y/N. I promise you’ll be fine.”

She nodded, knowing deep down that Fatima was right. The universe would balance itself out eventually, everything would be alright in the end even if her current world was crumbling right before her eyes. Maybe she was just being dramatic, maybe it wasn’t that deep and she had just not been focused enough, but Y/N felt like giving up now.

“When I feel like I’m failing at life,” Fatima started, sitting up a bit straighter in her seat. “I pick up a pillow and I just scream into it.”

Y/N blinked.

Fatima grinned.

“You just scream? How?”

“Just like you’d normally scream,” Fatima chuckled, demonstrating by pretending to pick up a pillow, burying her face in it, and silently screaming. “And after that, I feel better.”

“Like a proper scream?”

“Like you’re being chased down the street by a man in a clown costume holding an axe.”

Y/N smiled, shaking her head some. “I’ll do that when I get back to the Inn. Immediately.”

Fatima laughed just as someone came up beside them, asking the man sitting beside them if the chair opposite him was taken. When the tiny, short-haired blonde sat down beside them, she beamed from ear to ear. There was something about Ellie’s presence that just made everything better. She was so round, so small, so joyous all the time that it felt wrong to be in a sulky mood when she was around.

“I heard you’re studying,” Ellie said, perching her yellow sunglasses on the top of her head. “And by the looks of it-“ Ellie mimicked what Fatima had just done with the scream. “-It’s not going so well.”

“Y/N’s studying for that dentist test and she tried one of them practice exams, didn’t go so well.”

“Aww.” Ellie pouted. “I’ll buy you a cupcake to cheer you up. I always eat tons when I’m sad, especially sweets. Especially, especially cupcakes.”

“Thanks for the offer, but-“

“-Ima, you want a cupcake as well?” Ellie put her purse down on her chair as she got up, holding onto her card. “Or a new iced latte?”

Fatima brought a hand to her chin, pretending to think about it, making exaggerated thinking noises till Ellie blurted a “today!” that made Fatima chuckle and say, “Both please, babe.”

Ellie smiled. “Girls, you know what I think we should do after this?” She waited for a few seconds for either of them to say something, but when they didn’t Ellie went on. “Go to the beach! You can’t be sad when you’re at the beach! We’ll sunbathe, have a bit of a swim, and then go for a Cheeky V at the pub after.”

Fatima smiled a little, looking at Y/N to see if she’d be into that.

Though all Y/N wanted to do was go back to the Inn and scream into her pillow, she smiled up at Ellie. “Yeah, why not? Have a bit of a girls day.”

“Oh, my gosh, that’s exactly what it is as well,” Ellie gasped, grinning from ear to ear. “BRB, ladies, I’m getting us something sweet.” Ellie was off into Olive’s Café greeting an acquaintance loudly before she went over to talk to them. Fatima only shook her head some, turning back to the book in front of her.

“You’ll figure it out, Y/N.”

“The UCAT?” she asked, looking at her laptop again, feeling her stomach drop at the sight of the practice exam again.

“Everything,” Fatima answered with so much conviction that for a moment, Y/N almost believed her.

“Alright, crew,” Dax called as they pulled into the farm, its lush and green landscape opening up around them. “Just warning you now, I’m gonna absolutely crush you tonight. I go for the title of champion even if it means I’m gonna have to lose some friends.”

“Sad, that,” Fatima sighed. “Seeing as you’ve never won before, what makes you think you’re gonna win this year?”

Amir turned to look at them from where he sat shotgun. “Dax, you may try to win, but we all know the former singer and frontman of Astronaut Lions will go home champion tonight.”

“You are a terrible singer, Amir. Dunno why we let you even sing,” Jo groaned.

“’Cause I’ve got a silky-smooth, delicious, fantastic-“

“-Shut up, mate!” Ellie groaned, making Jo laugh and give her a high five.

Harry stopped his van, killing the engine before Dax got up and opened the door for everything in the backseats. Y/N made sure no one could see her bum as she descended from the car, keeping her hands by her buttocks to keep her pleated lilac skirt from showing too much of her skin. She put her purse on her shoulder, letting it hang over her white crop cardigan. Music could be heard from the large barn, some awful singing streamed out from the open entrance as people walked out, laughing and carrying empty plates. The farm was just as beautiful as Y/N remembered it, now smelling of delicious barbeque and sounding of hens, chatter, and the occasional failed high-note. The karaoke night seemed to be under full way, the courtyard brimming with people, the same went for the inside of the barn it seemed.

Y/N, Fatima and Ellie fell into step beside one another as they walked over to the gate, Harry opening it for the rest, gesturing for them to walk in before him. When Y/N reached him last he gave her a little smile, eyes falling to the gravel under his feet.

“Harry!” Grace yelled, running from the grill where Uncle Tim, Jessa, and lolo stood looking at the food. “Harry, Harry, Harry!”

“There she is!” Harry bent down as Grace came running, wrapping his arms around her and spinning her around, her feet dangling in the air.

“Alright, Mr Flores?” Dax asked as he walked up to the grill, putting a hand on lolo’s shoulder. Lolo grinned up at Dax, saying something that Y/N didn’t catch as Amir let out a loud groan hitting his chest with both hands.

“Let’s go! Gonna belt Material Girl in approximately five minutes, everyone come watch to have your life changed!” Amir ran into the barn, shouting something as he met a few familiar faces inside.

“After a few pints he’ll try Gentleman,” Fatima sighed. “Someone should cover Gracie’s ears then.”

“That SL song?” Jo asked. “Nah, he better do Wiley Flow, or else I’m gonna have to challenge him to a rap battle.”

“Amir’s got no chance of keeping up with any of Stormzy’s songs,” Ellie pointed out matter-of-factly, scrunching up her nose. “Anyway,” Ellie stopped Jo before they started talking. “We’re doing Sugababes, yeah? About You Now?”

“Obvs!” Fatima exclaimed, offended that Ellie might’ve thought otherwise. “And Y/N’s joining us.”

“Oh!” Y/N raised her eyebrows, chuckling a little as Fatima wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “It’s been a while since I’ve heard a Sugababes song.”

“They’re immense, aren’t they?” Ellie grinned. “I used to listen to Push The Button on repeat when I was like 12.”

“Was more of a Too Lost in You type of girl,” Y/N said, making Fatima gasp and Ellie bring a hand up to her chest.

“We’re doing Too Lost in You!” Ellie clapped her hands frantically. “Oh, my life! Legendary!”

“Of course,” Fatima smiled. “You wanna sing, yeah?”

“Let me down three ciders and I’ll be good to go.”

Jo laughed, gesturing for Y/N to follow them over to the main house where the four of them helped themselves to something to drink. Y/N glanced out of the kitchen window at the Styles-Flores family where they stood by the grill, sipping her cider. Grace sat on Harry’s shoulders, hands in his hair as she giggled at something. Harry had both his hands wrapped around his little sister’s ankles, holding her in place. Jessa was grinning at the two while Uncle Tim stood talking by the grill, asking lolo if what he was doing was alright, not having grilled this specific type of Filipino dish before. Dax stood chatting to one of Harry’s aunts, if it was Rachel or Abby, Y/N could not for the life of herself remember, but she noticed Harry’s aunt’s kids running around the grill, shouting at one another and laughing.

Y/N had never experienced a dynamic like this before. This family was so welcome, so big, so loving, and it made her happy to just watch them and know that, for a split second in time, she had been part of it. Maybe not a real part of it because this was not her family after all, but she had been touched by their warmth and been their guest for a time being. She would forever be grateful for that. Love tasted like Jessa’s lumpia, radiated like lolo’s approving smile, smelled like Grace’s hair after she had been out plucking wildflowers, and felt like Harry’s arms wrapped around her. Nothing would ever be quite like this.

“Let’s go to the barn,” Ellie said.

“I’ll just go say hi to Jessa,” Y/N announced, giving them all a smile before she walked outside and over to the grill where everyone was standing.

“Y/N!” Jessa exclaimed, opening her arms for her. Y/N grinned, walking over and doing the mano po on both Jessa and lolo. “How have you been? Don’t feel like I’ve seen you in ages.” Jessa swatted Harry’s arm, making him flinch away. “He’s keeping you all to himself, isn’t he?”

“I’ve been busy, nanay!” Harry said, furrowing his brows at his step-mum.

“Karaoke is huge in the Philippines,” Jessa explained, as she linked her arm with Y/N’s bringing her over to the grill where lolo and Tim were standing. “It is an understatement to say that Filipinos love karaoke, I daresay. Almost every Filipino home has a karaoke machine, Harry’s dad bought ours when we first moved here, but we put it out in the barn ‘cause we don’t really use it unless there’s a karaoke night, like tonight.”

“How nice, this is a tradition then? Each summer?”

“Yeah, we have a karaoke barbeque night every summer, everyone’s invited!” Jessa beamed. “It’s a fantastic way to just relax, forget about everything for a little while, belt your heart out to some of your favourite songs.”

Y/N smiled, eyes landing on the grill.

“Alright, Y/N?” Tim asked, smiling at her. “We made some tempeh for you, some Filipino barbeque sauce on it that’s out of this world. Not surprised, though, when Jessa made it.”

“Oh!” Jessa waved her hand as if to dismiss the compliment, but squeezed his shoulder. “I’m excited to see what you think. It was either tempeh or baos, thought you might like this a bit more.”

Y/N took a plate and a fork and watched as Tim put some food on her plate, thanking him once it was done. She picked up the tempeh and blew on it before she took a bite out of it, chewing it thoroughly and smiling at Jessa after swallowing.

“That’s brilliant.”

“Ahh! You think?” Jessa grinned, looking from Tim and back to Y/N, then at lolo. “Amá, Y/N liked the tempeh we made.”

Lolo smiled at Y/N and looked at her plate, nodding slowly. “You have to come and make some food with us once. You are part of the family now; we can show you our secret recipes.”

Y/N chuckled some before swallowing her bite of tempeh. “Wouldn’t say I’m part of the family, but thank you-“

“-Nonsense!” Jessa exclaimed, shaking her head furiously. “You are here, you’re making Harry happy, and since you’ve come to St Ives, the world’s been a brighter place. You’re where you need to be.”

For some reason, Y/N couldn’t quite believe what Jessa was saying. She knew it was coming from a good place, that she meant that it was nice to have Y/N there, but her family was in Winchester, she couldn’t possibly come into a new one and then ruin that one as well. This family she was visiting in St Ives would do just fine without her when she left in August. No one would miss her once she had been gone for a week, that was just a fact. Y/N was so bloody lost, she did not know what to do once her and Harry “broke up”, but she knew she would not disappoint and make any of the people around her sad, she refused.

Instead, Y/N smiled as she took the last bite of the tempeh, chewing and swallowing before she said. “Harry said something about an end of summer party.”

“Yes! I wanted to talk to you about that! Because, on the topic of food,” Jessa smiled back. “If you could give me some of your favourite vegetarian dishes, I’d love to make them for you! It would be amazing for many others to try something new as well.”

“I’d be more than happy to help out,” Y/N said, looking over at Grace as she sat on Dax’s back, the blonde man running around in circles as Harry ran after them, growling and acting like a disformed monster of sorts. She smiled a little at the sight, he looked absolutely ridiculous. How was he still cute? “I’ll bring the veggie food and I’ll show you how to make those, and then you show me how to make some Filipino dishes as well.”

Jessa placed a hand over her heart, beaming at Y/N. “You are an absolute treasure, me lover.”

Y/N smiled, eating some more of the tempeh. “When should I come and help out?”

“Are you free Tuesday?”

“Yeah, I don’t have any plans as of now.”

“Great! Harry will drive you here then. It’ll just be me, amá, Gracie, and Harry, and now you.” Jessa put her hand on Y/N’s arm, squeezing her lovingly before she turned to answer a question Tim asked her about the food he was currently grilling.

Y/N looked in the direction of Harry, Dax and Grace again, now walking towards the house. Jessa must have noticed Y/N staring in their direction because she linked her arm through Y/N’s and the two walked in the direction of the house as well.

“There’s more food inside,” she explained, grinning from ear to ear. “We do grill a lot, but Tim’s not really the best with the grill and he always insists on grilling at these gatherings, I don’t really have the heart to tell him no.” Jessa led Y/N into the dining room where she remembered all the food had been served at Grace’s birthday party. Again, casserole upon casserole stood spread over the dining table, covering it completely. Most of the dishes were all dug into, some almost completely wiped from the casseroles.

“Here,” Jessa said as she led Y/N over to the table. “I made your lumpia, there’s a few other vegetarian options as well.”

The fact that Jessa thought of this, thought of Y/N’s preference and made life a little easier for her, was so greatly appreciated that it nearly brought tears to Y/N’s eyes.

“This is biko,” Jessa explained, pointing to a casserole filled with banana leaves, a brown dish resting in it. “It’s a rice cake made from malagkit, or sticky rice, coconut milk, and brown sugar. Like other rice cakes, it is referred to as kakanin, taken from the word kanin which means rice, and is often eaten as a dessert or meryenda, meaning a mid-afternoon snack.”

“It looks lovely,” Y/N said, reaching for the spoon to get herself a slice before it was all eaten up. “Know we’re probably not set for dessert just yet, but I might just need some.”

Jessa laughed, smiling as Y/N took a bite of the biko. “What do you reckon, darling?”

“Heavenly, Jessa.”

Jessa clapped her hands together in delight, grinning from ear to ear as Y/N went in for another bite. “You have to try the buko pie next.”

“Which one’s that?”

Jessa pointed to a golden pie, not waiting for any sort of reply before cutting Y/N a small piece, placing it on Y/N’s plate. “It’s a sweet and rich pie made from young coconut meat.”

“Oh?”

“Buko pies are mostly sold in southern parts of Luzon in the Philippines. There’s this specific store down there called Collette’s that serves the best buko pie. I will never be able to replicate it, but I will try my hardest, every time I make a buko pie,” Jessa smiled. “We need to take you to Luzon, Y/N, you’d love it. Once we’ve saved up and all that.”

“This is the best buko pie I’ve ever tasted at least,” Y/N said, and Jessa laughed again looking out through the window only to sigh deeply.

“I need to go out there, it seems Tim is struggling and amá cannot be asked to help him out.” Jessa sprinted out, shouting something at Tim that Y/N didn’t catch but by the look on all the relatives standing around and Tim’s face, it couldn’t have been good. Y/N smiled a little, eating the rest of her pie before she realised she heard music. This wasn’t the type streaming out from the barn, this was coming from inside the house. And it was coming from the piano.

Y/N walked into the kitchen and placed her now empty plate on the kitchen counter before walking over to the dining room again, walking over to the doorway leading into the living room. With Grace on his lap, Harry was sitting by the piano, playing a tune Y/N had never heard before. It was both hopeful and very sad, unlike anything Y/N had ever heard before. There was no note sheet in front of him as he played, his eyes were only on the keys in front of him. Grace sometimes leaned forward and pressed a key she wasn’t supposed to, looking up at Harry while she giggled before leaning into him again, listening to the rest of the song.

“Can you play that other one?” Grace asked as Harry continued to play.

“What other one? There are quite a few, Gracie.”

“She means the one about me,” Dax grinned, standing beside the piano with his arms crossed, a massive grin on his face. “Go on, Hazza. Play that one inspired by Sexy Back.”

“Watch your mouth,” Harry hissed through gritted teeth, making his best friend laugh.

“Noooo!” Grace laughed. “The one you wrote after you, me and Y/N went to St Austell. The one about that trip.”

“Ahh, haven’t heard that one before,” Dax said, walking over to sit on the sofa beside the piano, watching the two siblings as they settled in again. Grace pressed one of the keys, looking up at Harry who smiled down at her and shook his head. He took her hand, bringing her finger over to the correct starting note, pressing it down for a long while so she’d get the feel of it. Then, he brought her to the next one, slowly playing the melody out before Grace motioned for Harry to take over for her.

What Harry produced just pressing a couple of keys at just the right moment was so breath-taking that Y/N almost felt dizzy. There was something to this melody that words weren’t ready to properly convey yet, something that was too powerful for a simple human brain to comprehend. Y/N understood why Harry wrote songs now. This melody captured that day perfectly. Her heart knew that melody. It had played that melody itself that day; it had been there with Harry while he came up with it as well.

She was thrown back to walking along St Austell, spending the day in the sunshine with two people that she had come to care so incredibly much for. Thrown back to standing side by side with Harry, talking about music, walking along the market, eating ice cream, laughing till her sides hurt. A lump suddenly appeared in her throat.

“What the fuc-“

“-Dax,” Harry said, stopping immediately. “No.”

“I’ve heard that word before, Harry,” Grace said.

“What, when?!”

“Harry, that was insane,” Dax said, grinning as he stood up from the sofa again. Before Y/N could be noticed, she stepped away from the doorway and walked outside again, feeling every inch of her chest hurting.

“Y/N!” Jo called. “Come in here!” They stood by the grill with a plate filled with food, waving her over so the two of them could walk in together.

She grinned over at Jo as she made her way over, them walking in the direction of the barn together. She waved at people she recognised – Florence from Bessie’s knitting club and Dax’s mum, was one of them. The inside of the barn was decorated with plenty of fairylights, giving the old interior a yellowish and homely glow resembling candlelight. There were small tables and chairs all around so people could sit down to eat, drink, and chat, while a huge screen was positioned by the furthest wall, two microphones attached to what looked to be a high quality karaoke machine of sorts. Jo showed the way and they sat down with the rest, it didn’t take long for Harry, Dax, and Grace to join them. Y/N got out of her chair and tapped Grace on the shoulder.

“Haven’t gotten a hug yet,” Y/N said and Grace jumped off the ground, throwing her arms around Y/N’s neck. She laughed, hugging the little girl to her for a few heavenly seconds before she stepped away. “You look nice today.”

“Nanay told me not to spill anything on it,” Grace said as she gestured at her pink, sparkly dress. “I told her I can’t promise that.”

Y/N chuckled. “You’re doing well so far, I’d say.”

“Thank you!” Grace beamed. “Anyway, Harry’s drinking that drink that makes his breath smell awful.”

“Gracie,” Harry warned from where he now sat beside Ellie, but the little girl did not appear to want to hear what he had to say.

“How can you kiss someone with bad breath, Y/N?” Grace asked and Y/N’s heart dropped at little as she thought about kissing Harry again. How they weren’t going to kiss again. How she wanted to kiss him, but not because they were fake dating. It took everything in Y/N not to look in Harry’s direction, because, judging by his little utterance of his sister’s name before, she knew he must’ve heard this as well.

“You don’t care if they’ve got bad breath if you really want to kiss them,” Y/N answered, giving Grace a smile.

Grace grimaced. “I would never kiss someone if their breath stank.”

“Don’t talk about kissing, you’re seven,” Harry said, sipping his pint.

Y/N raised her eyebrows at Grace and Grace did the same back. At Grace’s instructions, Y/N sat down in her seat so Grace could sit in her lap. Grace watched the people singing intently, sometimes singing along and nodding her head along to the music like she couldn’t help it. It was impossible not to smile at the sight of it, Y/N simply cared for this little creature so much it was hard for her to fully comprehend it. Grace, though young and Harry’s little sister, was the closest thing Y/N had ever come to a sister. They didn’t have a deep connection through thoughtful conversation, but they just understood and went along. There was an emotional and meaningful connection that, though not talked about, had appeared because they enjoyed and appreciated each other’s company.

Grace ran over to a nearby table to get herself some water, leaving Y/N sitting in the chair alone, her lap feeling oddly cold. On the other side of the table, Amir was talking loudly over the karaoke battle that had just begun.

“When I go back up to London for work in two weeks’ time, I feel like I’m just gonna make a right fool of myself, yeah? Normally takes a week for me to turn my weird off after I’ve been home.”

“Gonna be weird when you and Jo are off again,” Ellie said. “Why do you two have to work in London? Why can’t you just stay in St Ives?”

“Bit liberating to leave this place for another one every once in a while, not gonna lie,” Jo admitted, sipping their beer.

“Makes you realise all you’ve missed,” Fatima nodded. “Was the same when I came home for uni breaks, now I’m just really happy I ended up here. Might be underpaid as a teacher, but-“ Fatima shrugged her shoulders. “-I love living and working here, it’s home, after all.”

Y/N hated that she had never experienced that feeling; of coming back to something you had missed. Of coming home.

“Bum that,” Dax said. “I want my mates home at all times! I don’t care you’ve got a job!”

Y/N chuckled, the conversation around them commencing as she looked down at the table, picking at a stain on the table. Grace came back just then, but she didn’t get to sit down before Dax said her name.

“Wanna go up and sing your heart out?”

Grace squealed and took Harry’s hand. Harry downed the rest of his beer and stood up, walking with Grace, Dax, and Amir up to the karaoke machine. Y/N rested her chin in her hand, smiling as she watched the four of them discuss what song to do. It had to be an easy one that Grace already knew, it might be hard to find the correct one. They took some time to decide, but suddenly, the drums to a song Y/N recognised from Harry’s favourite’s playlist started playing. She remembered how Grace really loved that playlist.

“Uptown girl,” Grace sang into the microphone as she perched on Harry’s hip, sharing microphone’s with him. “She’s been living in her uptown world.”

Dax and Amir joined in as well, singing along with Grace who was still unsure of the lyrics but tried to read them as best she could on the screen in front of them. Harry moved them to the music, Dax throwing an arm around Amir’s shoulders as they started singing their hearts out. It was simply impossible not to smile as you watched the four of them, dancing and singing along to Billy Joel’s song.

“God,” Fatima sighed as she scooched her chair closer to Y/N’s. “I wish someone looked at me the way Harry looks at you.”

Y/N halted a little at Fatima’s words, looking in her direction as Amir, Dax, and Grace sang “And now she’s looking for her downtown man, that’s what I am”.

“Pardon?”

Fatima grinned. “Oh, you know-“ She placed her chin in her head, looking off into the distance with exaggerated doe eyes, a dreamy look on her face. For a split second, Y/N’s heart seemed to lurch out of her chest. Harry… Harry looked at her like that? He glanced at her? Surely, Fatima was not being serious and she had simply caught Harry smiling at Grace when she sat in Y/N’s lap.

Y/N laughed. “You’re taking the mick, that’s not how he looks at me.”

“Wouldn’t know, would you? Always happens when you’re not looking.”

“Harry,” Grace said, not even bothering to hold the microphone away as she spoke to him in the middle of the song. “You need to sing, the song’s for Y/N, remember?”

Y/N glanced beyond Fatima and at the group in front of the screen, a rush of adrenaline streaming through her veins. Laughter could be heard throughout the room at Grace’s words, many turning in Y/N’s direction to look at her, all with smiles and curious looks on their faces. At once, Y/N’s face seemed to be too hot for its own good. She bit her bottom lip, continued to watch the gang, ignoring the heat in her cheeks.

Harry seemed to take a deep breath before he started singing with Amir and Dax, both of them doing a miserable job of doing the song any sort of justice. Neither were impressive singers, but Y/N knew Harry was.

“Uptown girl, you know I can’t afford to buy her pearls,” Harry sang, voice so effortlessly breath-taking that Y/N felt like she was doing a pretty good job of imitating the dreamy look Fatima had demonstrated earlier. “But maybe someday when my ship comes in, she’ll understand what kind of guy I’ve been, and then I’ll win.”

Grace joined in then, wrapping her arm around Harry’s shoulder and leaning her head against his. They all continued to sing along to the song, Y/N not paying any sort of attention to the conversation between Fatima, Ellie, and Jo. She watched as the four of them cheered once they were done singing, bowing to the small applause they got before returning to the table.

“I need to go tell nanay!” Grace shouted, running off outside to Jessa and the rest of the family.

Y/N smiled at Harry as he came back, getting a tight-lipped smile back before he picked up his, Dax’s, Amir’s and Jo’s empty beer cans, walking over to get them all a new round. Grace came back with Halo Halo, placing herself on Y/N’s lap as the two ate, talking non-stop. The little one disappeared after a little while, Y/N suspected it was because it was getting rather late. As the night went on, Y/N realised that the only two that would be able to stand by the end of the night were her and Fatima. The others got very drunk, talking loudly about everything insignificant and nothing they would remember in the morning. Harry kept looking at the watch on his wrist, clearly making sure that they got back to his at a good hour so he could report at 3am. When Harry’s speech got a bit more slurred and his eyes a wee hooded, Y/N started looking out for him. Using the time on her phone, she kept an eye out, making sure that Harry returned to his cottage before then so he could sleep off most of his intoxication.

Talking amongst themselves as the rest chatted loudly, Fatima and Y/N agreed that Fatima would be the one to drive everyone home. It would be easier to drop Harry off last as this was his van, and Fatima didn’t live too far away from the lighthouse, the two then decided Y/N would sleep at her place that night, it would be nice just being the two of them. She loved how closed she was getting to Fatima and Ellie. There hadn’t really been a time before when she had made proper good friends, but everyone around that table were currently climbing very fast and very high up on her list of favourite people in the entire world. She genuinely appreciated Fatima’s help with the UCAT reading earlier that week, it had really helped her along, even though the result hadn’t been the best. That was Y/N’s fault though, not Fatima’s teaching skills.

At one point, Dax got all of them up from the table, bringing them over to the screen, telling them over and over again how they needed to do this. Y/N was unsure if they really did, but she didn’t bother telling a very drunk Dax that as he handed out microphones, telling people to share. Y/N scooted up next to Ellie, watching Harry as he put an arm around Jo’s shoulder, patting them as the two of them along with Amir watched Dax search for the song.

“We need to know what song we’re gonna embarrass ourselves to,” Amir exclaimed as Dax was taking his time typing.

“I’m not about to do a Union J song, mate,” Ellie said.

“Alright, I liked one of their songs ten years ago, Ellie!” Dax looked over his shoulder at her, a deep furrow to his brow. “Carry You is a belter!”

“It’s not.”

“Jo, back me up here,” Dax said, turning back to write something into the laptop standing there.

“Dax… don’t make us sing Union J or The Wanted or JLS or anything like that, we don’t need that,” Jo sighed.

“The fact you’re embarrassed about our boyband period in 2013 hurts.” Dax glared at Jo.

“Right, then, what’s the song we’re singing?” Harry shot in, nodding at the laptop again. “We’re just standing here lookin’ stupid now.”

“Looking stupid?” Amir tutted, shaking his head. “Couldn’t be me, mate. Model material, this is. Look like I’m straight off the runway.” He gestured at his body and Fatima feigned throwing up, making the five drunks howl with laughter.

“Ultraviolet, Stiff Dylans.”

Y/N gasped at Dax’s words, bringing her hand up to her chest as the others around just looked at her, afraid something had happened. She grinned at Dax. “That used to be my favourite song!”

This seemed to be shocking news to absolutely everyone.

“What?” Y/N raised her eyebrows. “Angus, Thongs, and Perfect Snogging was revolutionary.”

“Too right,” Harry said. “But… were you…” He blinked a few times. “Were you even allowed to watch it? Not a film I reckon would’ve been allowed in your house.”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “What can I say, I used to be a rebel.”

“Yes, Y/N!” Dax grinned, giving Y/N a high five. “Now, bum God Save the Queen, this is Britain’s national anthem! Someone record this, history in the making!”

The familiar music started up and Y/N was taken back to a time when she had a massive crush on Aaron Taylor-Johnson, hiding her obsession with this film from her parents, and listening to this song on repeat. The whole gang started singing, Amir doing a horrible job of keeping up with everyone else, but it was fun to watch him get annoyed with himself for not getting it right. Involuntarily, Y/N’s eyes fell on Harry. He was singing his heart out, sounding better than everyone else, but in his drunken state he seemed to have forgotten some of the lyrics. However, everyone knew the song and it felt very good to be with people she adored, singing a song all of them knew and loved, together. She felt part of something bigger than herself in that moment.

Maybe that was why she did it. Because, looking back, Y/N did not quite know what came over her in that moment, but she loved herself for it. As the song started nearing the end, Y/N took the microphone out of Ellie’s hands and started singing at the top of her lungs, taking absolutely everyone by surprise but she did not care. Ellie started laughing and the rest joined in again towards the end, matching Y/N’s volume.

As she turned around after the song, grinning from ear to ear as she glanced at her friends, basking in their applause and cheers, she caught Harry’s eye. That crooked smile of his was on his face along with a look she wasn’t sure she had ever really seen before, maybe only once. Amusement tangled up with adoration, forming a sort of emotion that had yet to be given a word; someone on the cusp of surrendering themselves completely to the overpowering concept of love, yet still holding back in fear of the unrequited. As soon as their eyes met, Harry looked away, scratching at the back of his neck as he walked back over to their table, everyone following suit.

The time came for them all to leave and Harry gave Y/N the car keys, claiming that he was not fit to drive, though she had not needed him to tell her that. Y/N gave them over to Fatima and all of them made their way over to the van. The night sky was black, brimming with glinting stars and the moon hanging big and yellow over Cornwall, wishing them all a good night. Y/N walked over to Jessa and thanked her for her hospitality, asking her where lolo and Grace were. She explained they’d gone to bed a long time ago, lolo had probably read Grace a bedtime story and fallen asleep himself, he sometimes did that when he stayed the night at the farm.

Y/N ran over to the van, opening the passenger door to see Amir sitting there, a bag in front of him in case he should throw up on the way home. He gave Y/N a peace sign before she closed the door and opened the door into the backseats.

“There you are,” Jo said through a yawn. “Let’s go, Ima.”

“Y/N!” Harry called from further back in the van, making Dax groan and mumble a “shut up, mate” that Harry did not hear. “Y/N! My flower! Come back here, I saved us the whole back backseat!”

Y/N glanced in Fatima’s direction, only to see her friend raise her eyebrows at her, nodding her head. “He made a big fuss.”

“Y/N, come here, I want to tell you something,” Harry said, words slurring a bit. Y/N stepped into the van properly, closing the door behind her before she walked back to Harry, sitting down in the seat right beside him by the window, even though there were three seats in the far back of the car. The car jolted a little as Fatima started driving, steering the car up the gravel round and towards the centre of St Ives.

“What’d you wanna say?” Y/N asked Harry in a hushed voice, hoping he’d mimic her.

“I… I wanted to say something that’s been on my mind for a while now,” he said, whispering back to her, his face mere centimetres from her own. She felt hot all over, adoring their close proximity but also remembering the rule they had made some days ago. As they drove by the white fluorescent streetlights, Harry’s face lit up for a few seconds, making him appear almost angelic. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

“Okay.”

“It’s got to do with you.”

“Figured as much.”

Harry giggled, looking down at his hands where they rested between his legs, sliding his thumb along his other. “You’re very smart.”

“Thank you.”

“Smartest person I know.”

She couldn’t help but smile at the compliment. “I doubt that.”

He pursed his lips as he thought. “You do that a lot.”

“What?”

“Doubt yourself.” He stared back at her, moving a little closer so their sides were flush against one another. “I think you’re great. I’ve never doubted you.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds, neither knowing what to say as the world around them seemed to disappear completely. For a single moment, it looked like he was going to tilt his head to the side, almost as if he were getting ready to study her like he had done at Porthgwidden. He stopped himself, staring back at his hands.

“I don’t have any cucumber left,” Harry mumbled, this made Y/N giggle a little. “This ain’t gonna end well for me tonight if I don’t get that cucumber.”

Y/N giggled some more, bringing her hand to her mouth as Harry looked at her again, his crooked smile appearing on his face, dimple showing.

“What?”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re talking about a cucumber when you say it like that,” she said.

“What then?”

“Well… what’s kind of shaped like a cucumber?”

Harry furrowed his brows, thinking hard.

“You have it, I don’t.”

“A cock?” Harry mouthed, looking absolutely gobsmacked that Y/N would suggest such a thing, which made Y/N laugh again.

“Yeah, dildo or summat.”

“Y/N Bernadette Angelica McKay,” Harry gasped, shaking his head as his eyes fell on the road through the window beyond Y/N. “Saucy git.”

“You started it.”

“Well, you made it sexual.” Harry crossed his arms, pretending to roll his eyes to make Y/N laugh, which worked effortlessly. “Wouldn’t mind a dildo, not gonna lie.”

“Harry!”

“What?! It’s the truth!”

Y/N laughed again, watching as Ellie and Jo jumped out of the car once Fatima stopped it, waving at everyone before they started walking in the same direction. Fatima started the car over again just as Jo stumbled and almost face planted, making everyone in the van – including the two outside – crack up. Y/N settled into her own seat, looking down at her thighs as they drove off again, giggling a little to herself as she replayed Jo’s near-death experience in her head.

“I…” Harry started, and when she glanced up at him, he was smiling that very small smile back at her. It was barely there, making his dimples show ever so slightly, and it made every single butterfly in Y/N’s tummy flutter their wings madly. “I love the sound of your laughter.”

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat.

“It makes me happy.”

She knew that if she continued to look at Harry and he continued to look at her, she would just start feeling more for him. Though she knew it was inevitable, she would fall in love with him sooner or later, she wanted to slow the process out so that she didn’t end up spending too much time with him while she loved him.

“When you said you watched Angus, Thongs earlier, it kinda shocked me a bit,” Harry admitted, talking as if it was all part of his stream of consciousness. “Not that I think you’re innocent or anything like that, you don’t seem innocent- and when I say it like that it sounds weird.”

Y/N bit her lips together, trying not to laugh.

“From what I’ve heard your parents were very strict so…” Harry shrugged his shoulder, looking away from her again. He tilted his head a little to the side as he caught eye of Amir in the front. “Amir! Oi! If you throw up in my van I’m gonna murder you!”

“Shut up, Haz,” Dax groaned. “Y/N, why the fuck is your boyfriend so loud when he’s plastered? Bloody hell.”

“I’m not loud, I’m passionate.”

“About Amir not throwing up in your car?” Dax rolled his eyes. “Brilliant.”

Fatima stopped the car, shouting at Dax to get out and help Amir home. Dax slowly walked around the car and took Amir’s arm over their shoulder, the two walking off as Amir started singing a song that had been sung right before they left the farm. Fatima sat there and watched the two walk up the street, making sure they got inside Amir’s place where Dax would kip before she started driving towards the lighthouse.

The three were quiet for the last part of the drive, Harry seemingly about to doze off all of a sudden, humming Ultraviolet under his breath as they started driving up the gravel path to the lighthouse. Y/N just barely saw the light of the lighthouse before it disappeared, but did not pay any more notice to it as Harry leaned over her, glancing out the window as if to see his house. Once Fatima stopped the car, Harry reached for the seat buckle, fumbling for it in the dark before he finally got free.

“Help me inside?” he asked Y/N, making her lose her words a bit at first in surprise, but she quickly loosened her own seatbelt as Fatima turned around, about to jump out of the van as well.

“Just gonna help him get to bed, it’ll take five minutes,” Y/N told Fatima as Harry slid the backdoor open, getting out of the car.

“Ten if can force a cuddle out of her,” Harry said, chuckling a little to himself as he watched Y/N get out of the car and close the door behind her. She only raised her eyebrows at him, holding her hand out for his keys, which he gave her eagerly. She wanted nothing more than to cuddle him for ten minutes, she’d take cuddles for one minute if that’s all she got, but she knew he was only saying it in front of Fatima to make her believe them even more. He took his time walking to the front door, as if to drag the time out, while Y/N walked on inside, turning the lights on for him. It took some time for him to get his shoes off and while he did that, Y/N looked through his fridge, not seeing any cucumbers but a few tomatoes could maybe do as post-party food.

Harry put his rucksack with his camera down by the sofa, strolling over to the bathroom to do whatever he needed to do. Y/N put the tomato on the counter, making Harry a glass of water like he had made her last time and putting that along with the tomato on the dining table. Once he walked out of the bathroom, he rubbed at his eyes, giving Y/N a smile as their eyes met.

“Are you staying?”

“No, I… I’m going home with Fatima.”

Harry nodded. “You two…?”

Y/N chuckled some, feeling her cheeks get a little hot as she shook her head. “No, we’re friends. I’m kipping at hers.”

“Okay, good.” Harry nodded, biting the corner of his upper lip as he said, “I don’t like it when you’re alone.”

“Why not?”

“Because of what you said about your dad, that he was a bad man and all that.”

Y/N felt a sort of panic rise in her chest and she looked out the still open door, seeing Fatima sit by the stone fence circling the lighthouse, watching its lights. Harry yawned, lying down in his bed and glancing over at Y/N, his eyes trailing down her body. She felt herself blushing, both because Harry was staring at her like that and she did not want to talk about her dad, especially not while Harry was drunk.

“Can you stay?” His voice was soft, speaking with a meaning that went beyond the cottage and tonight.

“I’m going with Fatima.”

“I want you to stay, flower.”

She wanted to lay down next to him, slide her hand through his hair and watch as he closed his eyes, smiling ever so slightly and humming in total and utter contentment. Fall asleep next to him, feel his breath on her skin again, know that he was there to protect her if anything were to happen. She suddenly remembered how safe she had felt waking up here, how she had never slept as good as she did that single night she spent at Harry’s cottage. Never again would she feel like that, Y/N realised. Once she left St Ives in a couple of weeks, all the safeness and the sense of belonging would be ripped away from her. It would surely be like someone ripping off her arm.

Harry sat up in his bed as if he sensed a shift in the air around them, looking up at Y/N with slight worry but also a sort of desperation, silently asking her to please consider his offer. God, in that very second, it was very hard to resist him. Because when he looked at her like that, so attentive, so devoted to everything she did, she simply wanted to do nothing but lay down next to him and do what he asked. But she couldn’t, and with each passing second where they just looked at one another, the tension between them grew and she felt goosebumps up her back. She cleared her throat some.

“You wanted to tell me something earlier, was that it?” Y/N asked, wanting to get them talking about something else.

“What?”

“In the van, when I entered it, you said you had something to say, what did you have to say?”

“Oh,” Harry said as if suddenly remembering. He glanced away suddenly, scratching at the back of his neck. “No, it was… I wanted to tell you that… I know we haven’t spent much time together since the whole… since Terraland… last Saturday- so like, a week ago…”

She nodded, encouraging him to keep going.

“I’m sorry for that. I don’t… The last thing I’d ever do is hurt your feelings or make you uncomfortable.”

“I know, Harry.”

“I just…” He watched her, taking in every single one of her movements as if he would forget what she looked like when she left. “You and me, you know… we were sitting there together and… you were so pretty when we sat there at Porthgwidden, I couldn’t… I had to kiss you. Spur of the moment kind thing, I suppose.”

Y/N did not want to look at him, did not want to hear him say anything else. Had all the nice things he had said at the beach also been just “spur of the moment” then? So nothing was real? Not that she had thought it was, but that kind of just underlined it, didn’t it? She didn’t know what to think anymore, everything was so blurry, nothing seemed to really make sense. Everything was for the fake relationship, it always was.

“Y/N!” Fatima called from outside, Y/N glanced at her. “Say goodbye so we can leave!”

When she glanced back at Harry, Harry seemed to get a little desperate, not wanting her to leave just yet. But Y/N couldn’t stay.

“Y/N,” Harry said, maybe realising that what he’d said might’ve been a bit much. “I-I didn’t mean it like that.”

She gave him a smile. “We’ll talk soon, yeah?”

Harry just nodded, and she walked out the door and toward Fatima who was smiling at her. With one last glance over her shoulder, she saw Harry in the window over his dining table, looking out after Y/N and Fatima as they walked along the gravel path toward town. His hand was resting by the tomato she had laid there for him, hoping that it could somehow be a good second to his usual cucumber tradition after nights out. Y/N crossed her arms over her chest as a slight cold breeze blew past them and Fatima audibly shivered.

“Yeah, would you look at that,” Fatima said as Y/N glanced her way. “Left me out in the wind, you did. Now I’m freezing.”

Y/N laughed, nudging Fatima’s shoulder with her own. The two friends went on back to Fatima’s place, acting as two old friends would.

Monday, 3 August

This was the first time Y/N had ever witnessed rain in St Ives since she arrived in June. It was not pouring down as one would assume after a long drought, a slight pitter-patter fell onto the grass around her as she walked along the gravel path, falling onto the hood of the yellow rain coat she was wearing. The sky was a dull grey, not something one should be worrying about, but there were a few darker clouds hovering somewhere in the horizon and she was sure that with this high of a temperature and the promise of pouring rain later on, lightning would occur as well.

Once she reached the lightkeeper residence, she knocked three times, waited a minute for Harry to open, then peeked her head in when he didn’t. Harry was sat by the dining table, looking through an instruction manual in front of him, frowning down at the pages as if he was reading a language he did not understand. At the sound of the door opening, he looked in Y/N’s direction, giving her a little smile.

“Saw you approach just now,” he said before looking down at the manual before him again.

“So you didn’t bother opening the door for me?” she asked, smiling over at him, but Harry did not answer. This was what she had been afraid of.

Ever since the karaoke and barbeque night at the farm, Harry had not met her gaze. Whenever she had come over to study, he wouldn’t spend too long in the cottage with her and he would rarely make her tea as he usually did. There was something not subtly cold, but different. He still welcomed her to sit in his windowsill and would still talk to her, but he wouldn’t look at her, wouldn’t stay around for long enough so they could talk properly. Y/N had tried, even suggested they go down to the Bakery to buy a pasty and walk around St Ives, go to the Candy Shoppe, or to the pub to have a few pints, but Harry had turned down all her offers, told her they could do it another time. He never really gave an explanation for why he didn’t want to hang out and Y/N was afraid of asking for one. But they had to talk. She didn’t want to go on like this, especially when Harry had come to mean so much to her.

“What’re you up to, then?” She took her coat and boots off, walking over to where Harry was seated by the dining table.

“I’m about to change the bulbs before it starts getting dark out and the lamp’s turned on,” he explained, furrowing his brows as he ran his finger over the page, concentrating on reading a specific line. Y/N stayed silent as not to disturb anything. He got up from the chair, sipping the last of his tea before he shoved the manual down in the back pocket of his denim shorts. He slipped his red knitted jumper over his Elton John tee shirt, the same one he had given to Y/N to wear after Dax’s birthday party when she slept over for the first time.

“Can I help?” she asked, giving him a smile she hoped he’d lay his eyes on her to see.

And he did, lips parting a little as if he was surprised by the suggestion. This puzzled Y/N as she had always expressed her willingness to help him, no matter what.

“Go on, then.” Harry nodded. “Just needed a cuppa before I started, it’s well past 6 after all.”

“You’re going to bed soon?”

“Yeah, and the lamp gets turned on in about an hour.”

Y/N smiled as he walked past her. “You’ve been procrastinating all day, have you?”

“Not all day.”

She laughed and she thought she saw the flicker of a smile on Harry’s lips at the sound.

“I’ve done other things as well, but I need this done now and quickly.”

Y/N nodded, putting her rain boots back on as Harry got his trainers on, the two then jogging in the direction of the lighthouse as not to get soaked in the rain that was starting to fall harder around them. Harry held the door open for her, then locked it once they were both inside. They started their ascent, Harry leading them past his little office floor, past the bedroom like room, up and up and up, till they finally reached the bell room. Even though Y/N was wearing a short white sundress with her green oversized boxy high-neck jumper along with her mid-calf black rain boots, she walked up the ladder leading to the bell room. She remembered how she had been reluctant to walk up wearing a dress that first time, but now she didn’t really care. Harry needed to change the bulbs and she said she was going to help.

Along the way, Harry had brought a toolbox with him, placing it up on the floor of the bell room before he walked up the ladder, letting Y/N go on up after him. For some reason it shocked Y/N when she came up to see that the lamp – the only thing inside the bell room – was not moving. She had imagined that the light in lighthouses moved around, and though Harry had explained what offshore and shore-based lighthouses were, the pattern of a lighthouse and the like, he hadn’t really explained how the lamp worked.

“It doesn’t rotate,” she said, walking up to the relatively small lamp in the middle of the room.

Harry was rummaging through his toolbox, stopping momentarily as he glanced over his shoulder at Y/N, unsure what she was referring to first, then let his eyes fall to the lens. “It flashes.”

Y/N furrowed her brows, walking around the lens to get a good look at it, studying the ridges and different colours of it, blank and red. “flashes?”

Harry pulled a screwdriver out of the toolbox and started working on the screws around the lamp. “It’s to identify it when it’s dark out, sailors can’t make out the white lighthouse when it’s night-time.”

“Makes sense.”

“Most lighthouses, especially shore-based ones like Clodgy, rhythmically flash or eclipse their lights to provide an identification signal. The particular pattern of flashes or eclipses is known as the character of the light, and the interval at which it repeats itself is called the period.” Harry tipped the plastic lens to reveal the five lightbulbs under it; Y/N was surprised to see it wasn’t made of glass. She supposed it was more convenient. “Essentially, a lighthouse may display a single flash, regularly repeated at perhaps 5-, 10-, or 15- seconds intervals. This is known as a flashing light. Clodgy is one of them.”

“What are these then?” Y/N asked, pointing to the red streaks.

“Basically, if someone is on sea and they are driving in the direction of sharp rocks or land, they’ll see a red light flashing instead of a normal, yellow one.”

“Danger, danger.”

Harry reached into his pocket, pulling out a box and putting it on the little space underneath the lamp.

“How many bulbs are there?” Y/N asked, looking at the different ones all attached to a round object in the middle of the lens.

“Five, they usually don’t have to be changed out. You gotta do so every 15-25 years, depending. This little thing-“ Harry pointed to the small bulb between them. “Lights up 15 miles using these lenses. It’s incredible.”

Y/N looked up at Harry, seeing a tiny and amused smile on his face as he talked. This was the most she had heard him talk in over a week; it made her heart do a silly fluttery thing.

“When one of these five bulbs go out, the apparatus knows that the bulb no longer works and it will rotate and-“ Harry placed his finger on the side of the bulb, rotating it to the right so that the apparatus turned, clicking as another bulb fit into place at the top. “-Click to a new bowl, it’s on automation and all that. So, we rarely change the bulbs.”

She bit her bottom lip as she watched him, not able to help herself. It was just so endearing to watch him like this, so amazing to hear him talking so unfiltered to her again. Right then, talking about bulbs and apparatuses and what not, he was so engulfed, so eager to tell her everything, that he did not care how he sounded. He was comfortable. She could tell.

He must’ve noticed how he rambled off, because he cleared his throat and stood up straight again, running a hand through his hair as a slight pink colour appeared in his cheeks. He quickly started to change the first bulb, putting a new on in its stead. Y/N just watched him, finding the sound of Harry working, the slight clicks, the quiet patter of the rain against the windows surrounding them, very relaxing. He seemed to be relaxed as well, so she thought this might be the best time as any.

Inhaling slowly, she leaned her hands on either side of the slight counter the lamp was standing on. She looked over it at Harry, his bottom lip between his teeth as he put the second bulb in its new place.

“Harry, we…” she started, swallowing thickly. “We need to talk about… things.”

Harry sighed. “Yes. Yes, we do.”

Knowing he felt the same way about that made it easier to breathe for a reason. At least she wasn’t going into this the same way she had been going into the Emilia situation after Dax’s birthday.

He started on the third bulb as he started talking, beating Y/N to it. “I, uhm… I want to tell you about my dad.”

This came as a shock to Y/N who was left raising her eyebrows at him for a second or two before saying, “Yeah, alright.”

He glanced up at her over the lightbulb. “You didn’t see it coming?”

“We’ll talk about your dad first,” Y/N gave him a reassuring smile. “We have time. We’ll always have time.”

“But that’s the thing…” Harry trailed off, switching out the fourth bulb, not meeting her eyes. “We don’t. If there’s one thing we won’t always have, it’s time. There won’t ever be enough time spent with your loved ones, there just won’t. No matter how much time you spend or how much time you spent with someone, you’ll always want more time. Always. What you got is never enough.”

The rain outside fell a little harder against the windows of the bell room, the wind a little harsher.

“Two years ago, my dad went on a fishing trip. He usually did this, took a few of his mates and then set off out wherever. They were never gone for more than a day tops, they always returned at night with tons of fish and I remember how Jessa would be so delighted and then invite our whole family over for barbecues and the like.” He paused as he started on the fifth and last bulb. “One day, September 4th to be exact, he didn’t return. Jessa and I sat up for hours waiting for signs of him. She started calling the spouses of the others on the boat, no one else had returned either.”

Y/N absolutely hated that she knew where this was going but she hadn’t told Harry that yet.

“Dax ended up sleeping at the lightkeeper house with me for a month and some after that, just didn’t want me to be alone, you know? He’s sound like that.” Once he was done putting the bulb in place, he reached for the lens and put it back where it belonged. “I think most of my mates and the people in my family’s life tried to keep our minds off it, ‘cause the more days went by, the more likely it was that… you know… he was dead.”

Harry sighed, reaching for the screwdriver, taking a little pause in talking as he screwed everything back into place. Y/N took a few steps back, watching him do his job and make himself ready to talk again.

“The boat was found October 14th, no one and nothing was in it.” Harry still wouldn’t look at her, put the screwdriver back in the toolbox and kept his back to her for a few seconds before turning around again. The bell room was starting to get relatively dark; she supposed the light would turn on soon, and she could barely make out the slight glassy expression in Harry’s eyes.

“I went absolutely mad. There are big chunks of time that I don’t even remember from that time, my brain has just… erased it from my memory, it was the darkest period of my life. They didn’t find any of the passengers’ bodies, there were three of them as well. It had been a turbulent and stormy night, so a sea storm took them out, drowned them all. But I… I…” Harry inhaled hugely, breathing shakily. “I didn’t… I still kinda don’t want… want to believe it. My dad is laying somewhere, far away from me, far away from Jessa, Gracie, from… from home…” He looked down at the ground, blinking rapidly. “It doesn’t fucking feel real. It’s not supposed to happen. This… He was a good sailor; he didn’t drown at sea.”

Y/N felt something starting to sting behind her eyes, she bit her bottom lip to stop it from wobbling. The storm outside seemed to pick up, sounding rougher than a minute before.

“I took over after him because I thought… I thought that, if no one else could, I could help him find the way home. I could shine that light; I’d take care of the lighthouse till he came back home. I’d show him the way, I’d light up the path for him, and he’d come home to me again. Where he belonged, where he should’ve been all along.” He took a deep breath, slowly looking up again, eyes falling to the lamp in the middle of the room. “It was a way for me to ignore the fact that he was truly dead. He wouldn’t come back. I didn’t really… I didn’t realise how… I didn’t realise how true it was that my dad, my constant, was gone, until Emilia left as well.”

Y/N furrowed her brows, a sort of rage filling her again. She had never been this angry before. There was something burning inside her, a sort of desire to protect Harry from everything evil in the world. No one deserved to hurt, but Harry least of everyone.

“I met Emilia at one of Astronaut Lions’ gigs the year before. I remember standing at the bar and she came up to me, asked me if I was Amos’ son – that’s my dad’s name, by the way - to which I said yes, and she told me her dad used to lend my dad and his mates his fishing boat sometimes. My dad and hers knew each other. So, we got talking, and, I want to say it’s ‘cause our dads knew each other, we got pretty close, pretty fast.”

Talking about Emilia brought Y/N’s gagging reflex into full force, but she composed herself.

“When my dad died, she was around, but not as often as Dax, Amir, Jo, Fatima, Ellie, or my family. She visited and stuff, kept me occupied, but the gang spent a lot of time at my place, occasionally rotating. It was nice, I didn’t want to be alone. I love being alone, but I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts then.”

Harry leaned against the window, eyes falling to the floor. Y/N continued to stand where she had, watching Harry carefully.

“We had been together for a year and some then. We hadn’t really fought much, I don’t really like confrontation, it makes me very uncomfortable, so I usually just let her say what she wanted to say if she was annoyed with me and didn’t bother arguing. Fatima kept telling me how unfair it was on her and our relationship, and also on myself, that I never really stood up for myself when we fought. It’s, like… I wanted it to work out so much that I wanted to ignore the things that didn’t. I didn’t want to do something that might cause us to break up.” He sighed heavily. “We were good for each other, we did have some good times, and she was my first ever proper girlfriend that broke my heart, but… but these last few weeks I’ve come to realise that she never really wanted what was best for me the way all my mates did.”

Y/N wanted to walk over to him and hug him. She wanted to console him; tell him she was there if he needed anything.

“I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about that part of my life, you know? I’m aware that breaking up with someone ‘cause they’re bad for your mental health is valid, but what she did really affected me. It made the grieving process worse. I had never really felt truly alone till then.” He furrowed his brows some. “I didn’t have dad; I didn’t have Emilia… I knew I had my mates, but… Emilia and dad meant so much to me, losing them both in such a short period of time… broke me.”

Y/N swallowed a lump in her throat, hoping he couldn’t hear how sad his story made her. “Harry, you don’t have to elaborate if it’s hard for you.”

“No, you deserve to know. Emilia’s back, you’re my… my supposed girlfriend and you… I want you to know.”

Y/N nodded, clutching at the hem of her jumper.

“I know it was a naff move on my part when I went with her to get her that cup, I know I should have understood why you were rightfully upset right away, I know I shouldn’t have been too friendly when she came to Terraland…” Trailing off, he balled his hands into fists at his sides. “The reason why I’ve been so reluctant to push her out of my life is… I know it’s fucking mental; I know I sound right mad, yeah? But… I figured that if she could return, then maybe… then maybe dad…” Harry didn’t finish, but he didn’t have to.

Y/N shook her head as the only thing in the bell room that was audible was the sound of the rain and wind outside, sounding eerie and strong against the top of the lighthouse. “It’s not mental. It’s a very valid and normal reaction to grief, clinging onto the last shred you have of someone, hoping that one day they might come back to you.”

Harry looked at her feet, not ready to meet her eyes yet.

“My dad and I have never been close. I used to love being around him when I was little, I remember associating him with goodness and warmth. He would play with me and make me laugh, do things that my mum hated him for.”

“Like?”

“Throw me in the air, let me jump from a bunk bed and onto the mattress on the floor below, that sort of thing.” Y/N almost smiled at the memory. She hadn’t thought about that in ages. “However, as I grew up, my dad just got colder. He was still nice to me, was still protective and a dad, but he wasn’t the same.”

Y/N could tell by the slight breath Harry inhaled that he wanted to ask what changed but stopped himself. She was grateful he did. She could not go that far just yet.

“But… though it’s not the same as you, I respected my dad’s wishes to stay in Winchester and do as my mum; become a stay-at-home mum who didn’t need education or anything like that. He wanted me to marry well and learn how to be a mum; learn how to be safe at home and mostly indoors at all times.” She furrowed her brows some. “I believed him when he told me I wouldn’t be fit to become a dentist.” She paused for a moment. “You know when you’re scared, and you believe every word your parents say to you ‘cause you don’t know what else to do? They’re older, wiser, got more experience, so of course they know better than you, they know the best thing to do in any given situation.”

Harry nodded slightly.

“Before… Before I came to St Ives, I hadn’t really parted from my family at all. It wasn’t really like I had a choice. They were just always there, and I was expected to be there, too. I was terrified when I left; not only didn’t my parents know I was leaving, but I had just disappointed them in every way possible anyway, so I… I couldn’t stay there.” Her eyes fell on the lamp that yet hadn’t turned on.

Harry cleared his throat, eyes still on the lens in the middle of the room. “Your parents don’t know you’re here?”

“They do now.”

“You told them?”

Y/N felt her heart pick up its speed, she swallowed thickly, continuing to avoid Harry’s eyes. “What I’m trying to get at is that I haven’t, and probably won’t, tell them about the UCAT, or the fact that I’m trying to become a dentist. Part of me wishes that I did, but I know the reaction I’m gonna get… And the other part of me… That part is longing for that loving and warm father to return, the one that helped me fly when I was little.” She leaned against the window. “It’s not the same as you by any means, but it’s-“

“-It’s just as valid, Y/N.”

She shook her head some, looking out at the tall waves below. “You ever get the feeling that, no matter what, you won’t really be good enough, and you settle down with that thought? It’s not this hopeless feeling, but rather you’re just… content with that. You’re average so you’ll get average back.”

“You’re not average.”

She looked over at him, and for what seemed like the first time that day, their eyes met.

“Did your parents make you feel that horrible about yourself?”

Y/N crossed her arms. “In what way?”

“That you were average? Not destined for good things? That you didn’t deserve proper happiness?”

“I was satisfied with life in Winchester.”

“Satisfaction and happiness are two vastly different things.”

It seemed like he wanted to take a step forward but stopped himself, taking a deep breath before settling against the window again. Y/N pushed slightly away from the wall, standing closer to the light.

“It’s like the whole thing with me and Emilia again, innit? There were times when I was happy with her, but I think that’s more to do with the fact that I knew she was there. I could always rely on her. But bottom line is that being with her didn’t bring me instant and constant happiness like-“ He stopped himself, as if remembering there were things he wasn’t supposed to say. “She didn’t make me happy like she should’ve. I was satisfied.”

“Isn’t being at peace good? If someone or something brings you peace, isn’t that good?”

Harry shrugged his shoulders some. “There are different kinds, though. Your life and the people in it should be able to make you feel something, you know? Not being excited to see someone or to be somewhere or to do something, it does nothing. You don’t grow if you’re satisfied ‘cause you’re not moving, you’re not evolving.”

“Being happy isn’t a constant, though. You can’t always be happy, sometimes you’re just… not.”

“How boring would life be if you felt the same way, did the same things, saw the same people every single day? How boring would it be without change?”

Y/N felt herself smiling. “You’re a lighthouse keeper, you do the same things every single day.”

“I don’t, though,” he said. “I might be stuck here in St Ives most of the time, but I never do the same thing every single day. And besides…” He trailed off, biting his bottom lip some. “Besides life’s been anything but ordinary lately.”

Y/N glanced at her arms in front of her. “I… I hated change.”

“You don’t anymore?”

“To a degree,” she said. “I’m happy with the decision I made to leave my old life behind, but now… now I don’t really know what to do. I’m going to apply for University, but what if I’m too old? I’m 25, way older than everyone else there will be, and I… I dunno. I feel like I have to figure myself out all over again now that I don’t have my parents around me anymore, it’s like I don’t know who I am. Once this summer is over and I leave St Ives – ‘cause St Ives, you, and everyone here, are genuinely what’s keeping me together right now – I… I dunno how I’m going to survive. Will I have myself when I don’t even know who I am? Is it too late for me to get a fresh start? Who- Who will be there to help guide me in the right direction if I have no one in my life?”

There was no trace of hesitation as Harry said, voice deep and low, “You’ll always have someone.”

“Will I? I feel lost, Harry.” She blinked a few times, hoping to prevent possible tears from falling. “I’m so lost. Where do I even go from here? I don’t and can’t go back to how life used to be, where do I go?”

“Don’t go.”

She glanced up at him, the lamp beside them suddenly coming to life with a massive blink. Though the suddenness of the light had scared her, Harry’s words had been what got her heart racing. The light blinked in the direction of the sea, the other side from where they stood so Y/N couldn’t see it directly, only the dark back that was facing the mainland. However, she could not care less for the light as Harry stared back at her, right into her eyes, for the first time in what seemed like forever. She felt herself relax at the sight of him, but his words still reverberated through her head, making it spin slightly.

“What?”

“Don’t go,” he repeated, stepping away from the window. “Stay.”

Her arms fell to her sides. “You… You want me to stay in St Ives?”

It took a few seconds, as if he was building up the courage to say something he thought was obvious, but, seemingly, not so obvious to Y/N. “Yes.”

“But I…” She trailed off, blinking a few times as if she were trying to regain composure. “You’ve never said.”

“’Cause I’ve always been afraid of your reaction.”

“My… my reaction?”

“If it would scare you.”

“Why would that scare me?”

“’Cause someone telling you they care for you more than… more than they care for anyone else, and you not feeling the same way… I don’t want to scare you.”

Y/N was sure she had not heard him right. And if she had, she must have misinterpreted his statement, because surely he had not just said what she thought he said. The light blinked its usual pattern, lighting up the darkening bell room as the two just stood staring at one another.

“I thought you only felt like that for Emilia.”

Harry frowned, shaking his head as if what he’d just heard was absurd. “Emilia?”

“Well, then… then that you used to feel like that for her, that you two used to be close. I’ve been jealous of that, after all.”

“You’ve been jealous?” Harry’s eyes were wide, intently staring at Y/N as she continued to explain. “How do you mean?”

“Dunno…” Y/N said, knowing that she probably sounded like an absolute plonker. “You’ve always seemed pretty caught up on her. That you still have feelings for her.”

He studied her, mouth falling shut as he let his eyes scan her face, saying a soft, “I don’t.”

“But- But why do you blush when she’s around, then?”

At the mention of him blushing, a red colour appeared in his cheeks and he glanced away for a few seconds, running his hands through his hair. Y/N could not help a small smile on her lips, biting at the corner of her mouth to stop herself from doing so.

“I get flustered, don’t I? It’s not like I can help it,” Harry explained, gesturing at his face as he took a few steps forward. “She’s my ex, it’s weird being around her.”

“You act so shy, though. Isn’t that how you are around people you’re nervous in front of?”

“I acted like that with you as well, did you notice?”

Y/N felt a breath hitch in her throat, something about Harry admitting this made her entire body hot. Part of her did not believe this could be true, it was just too good, while the other urged her to keep going, see what happened next. She shook her head slightly. “I-I dunno.”

“I was so bloody nervous,” Harry said, chuckling a little to himself. “It was genuinely hard for me to form sentences ‘cause I didn’t want to make a right twit of myself, yeah? I just… I wanted to impress you so bad, but it was so hard.”

She pressed her lips together, heart hammering hard, hands feeling clammy with anticipation.

“I’m not nervous around you anymore, though.”

“You’re not?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I feel safe with you now. I don’t care that I make a fool of myself ‘cause you won’t mind.”

She smiled a little. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He gestured around him with a soft jerk of his chin. “You’re a light room.”

Y/N wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but stopped herself when their eyes met again. She wanted to walk to him, to be near him.

“It’s like…” Harry started, pausing for a few seconds before he went on. “It’s weird being around someone you thought meant a lot to you and you realise they didn’t. But with you… that’s…” He glanced at the ground again, tugging at the hem of his red jumper. “It’s different.”

She continued to just look at him, afraid that if she said anything he would stop.

“It’s… it’s like I… like-“ He cleared his throat, suddenly blushing uncontrollably, and it was as if he knew how ridiculous he must look because he let out a small laugh. “You were the prettiest woman I’d ever seen and I wanted to impress you, I didn’t want to embarrass myself and have you not want to be around me anymore.”

His eyes fell to her feet, moving up over her bare legs, landing on her tummy as he continued to find the words lost somewhere within him. He took a deep breath.

“I’m not good with words, so explaining how much you mean to me is hard, but I know that I… that you…” He drifted off again, meeting her eyes. “You were the person I wanted to be in the arms of at Terraland, when I was all shaken up ‘cause of that ride, not Emilia, no one else but you. And you’re the only person I want to be in the arms of right now, tomorrow, and probably every single day after that. I like it when you hold me, when you’re around. That’s all I know.” His eyes fell to her lips for a second, meeting her eyes as if he remembered that was forbidden territory. She had said as much. “I like it when we touch, everything seems at once much simpler but also so much more important and grander because of you.”

Biting her bottom lip, Y/N walked closer to Harry, and at the sight, he took two more steps closer as well, meeting right beside the lamp that was still occasionally lighting up the bell tower and the entire coast along with it. Standing right there in front of one another, something that could only resemble magic passed between them and circled around them, drawing them closer to one another. They were meant to be close, meant to be right here, with one another. It was wrong to be anywhere else than with Harry. She didn’t feel as lost when he was here; there was a sense of reason, of purpose, when they were together that was so great to the point of invention, there was no other way of explaining it. This, what was between then, was beyond anything. Limitless, unfathomable, immeasurable; infinite.

“I want to touch you,” Y/N said, her voice almost a whisper as she, once again, glanced at his lips.

“Touch me. Please.”

Slowly and gentler than she had ever been before, she placed her hand to his cheek, thumb stroking over the slight stubble before she slid the tips of her fingers to the back of his jaw and then forth again. He closed his eyes, leaning into her.

“Please, touch me,” he repeated, the breath of his pleading words falling against her hot wrist. “Never stop.”

She studied his face, loving the calming effect she had on him because it matched the one he had on her. Though he made her heart race and had her overthinking everything, he calmed her down and made her feel at peace. Exhilarated her and confused her; overwhelmed her and elated her. He made her feel everything all at once, and Y/N thought at last, wasn't that what love really was? When you felt like the feelings inside your body transcended everything, made you see everything around you in a new light? When it changed your world for the better?

Y/N’s hand slid down Harry’s cheek and his neck, and at the change, he opened his eyes to look at her again. She took another step forward, leading him toward her as her eyes fell to his lips, meeting his eyes as they hovered dangerously close to one another. The light blinked on and Y/N pressed her lips against Harry’s. They melted into each other instantly. Harry placed one of his hands to her neck and the other one to her hip, bringing her closer. She breathed against him, the rest of the world around them disappearing completely as they drew out the kiss.

His tongue traced her bottom lip, making a shiver run up her spine. Gently, she slipped her tongue into his mouth, making sure she did not overwhelm him, that it was okay. He instantly complied, stroking his against hers, swirling his around hers sensually, lighting Y/N on fire. She moaned into him, gripping at the hair at the back of his neck as their mouths opened wider, welcoming more of the other to enter and entrance them completely. She ran her other hand over his chest, wrapping it around him, while Harry’s slid down along her back, stopping just before he reached her bum, squeezing her a little as if he wasn’t mentally ready to go down there just yet tonight. The bell room continued to illuminate up, shining its guiding light out across the ocean, helping sailors home and to their final destinations. However, neither Y/N nor Harry could even remember where they really were as they continued to kiss one another. She felt his moan on her tongue, a slight whimper that he had not been able to hold back as they deepened the kiss. They instantly got more frantic; desperate, harder. She pushed against him more forcefully, wanting to taste and feel all of him.

For an instant, and what felt like for the first time since they had known each other, Harry took control. He pressed her against the bar with the lamp, keeping one hand on her neck, thumb at her chin, and the other on her waist. She gasped at the suddenness, her entire body aflame as Harry kissed along her jaw, tilting her head as to get better access. She could not help the contented sigh that left her lips, pushing him even closer to her, wrapping her left leg around his right one as to ensure he did not step away from her.

He whispered her name against her neck, leaving wet kisses along the skin that was exposed and that he could reach without removing the high neck of her jumper. He kissed the tip of her jaw, sucking lightly, and she could not hold back her whimper. It seemed to have had an effect on him that she herself had not anticipated, yet absolutely adored. Between them, pressed against her tummy, she could feel him. It seemed to have startled him as well, maybe not having anticipated it to happen that quickly, but he kissed along her neck again, seemingly not really caring anymore. He wanted her to know just how much power she held over him. He came back to her face, lips hovering above hers. They panted against one another, not letting each other go as the rain outside picked up, thunder rumbling in the distance, and the light that Y/N was pressed up again kept lighting up the ocean ahead.

“I, uhm…” Harry stared down, swallowing thickly. “I’m sorry ‘bout… that.”

Y/N smiled, shaking her head slightly. “Don’t apologise for that.” She brought her leg further up, twining it more around him to bring him closer. As if it was instinctual, Harry reached for her thigh, helping her bring it up to his waist. She let out another sigh, loving how he drew closer to her in the process of yanking her leg up higher. Their eyes met again, and she leaned her forehead against his.

“I thought we agreed on a ‘no kissing rule’,” Harry mumbled, lips brushing against hers as he spoke. “I thought you didn’t want to kiss me.”

“I want to kiss you; I just don’t want it to be part of our fake relationship.”

“This has nothing to do with that.” He moved to kiss her again and spoke against her lips. “I need to ask you, though, before anything more happens.”

She watched him, the sight of him slightly blurry but she did not care.

“There’s… There’s a bed… downstairs if you'd be interested in… you know…”

She smiled.

“In what?”

Harry smiled, giggling a little as he leaned his forehead against hers again. “I don’t want there to be mixed signals, so I’m just… I’m just gonna fucking say it.”

“Say it.”

He gripped her knee tighter. “Do you want to have sex with me? ‘Cause I… I mean, it’s not the sexiest way to go about it, just asking like that, but I… it’s very obvious that I would like- very much like to… you know, if you’d like. I don’t want to-“

She chuckled and Harry stopped talking, smiling at her. “I think asking is very sexy. Mixed signals aren’t sexy.”

“You’re right.”

She leaned in, pressing a light kiss to his lips.

“Flower,” he mumbled, voice rasping ever so slightly, making heat instantly pool between her thighs. “Would you let me make you feel good?”

“Do you think you can?”

Harry met her eyes, a crooked smile coming to his lips. “I’ve had no complaints before.”

“No complaints from Emilia?”

A slight furrow appeared between his brows before it lifted, his smile came back and it got wider. “You really were jealous of her.”

“She got to be close to you.”

“Well,” Harry said, eyes fluttering to her lips. “You’re close to me now. You’re closer to me than anyone’s ever been before.”

Y/N squeezed him closer, biting her lip before she said, “Yes.”

“You… you want to go downstairs?”

“Yes.”

Harry’s smile grew so wide it was hard for him to fight just how giddy he was getting at her words. He stepped away from her, taking her hand in his. They left the blinking bell room, climbing down the ladder, Harry securing the hatch before he turned to face Y/N again. Once they were in the near darkness of that room, they kissed again, desperate to feel one another again. This happened almost on every single floor – pressing each other up against a wall, needy to feel, to taste, to be close – as they could simply not help themselves.

Once they reached the floor, Y/N instantly recognised the door and where they were headed. On her first trip to the lighthouse, she had seen a bed in that room, the door had been half open, but Harry had closed it on their way down. Now, Harry opened it for her, letting her inside. It was tiny. A twin bed stood at the far end, its white sheets made neatly over it, while the desk – which stood perched right under a small window that was being attacked by harsh rain - was filled with photographs of Harry’s family. Him, Amos, Jessa, and Grace. There was a dresser with a vase on top, a bouquet of dead flowers in it that it seemed Harry had forgotten completely about.

Harry closed the door behind them. “This used to be my dad’s room. When it was stormy, he’d stay in here. The door sometimes opens on its own, logically I know it’s just a draught, but…” He shrugged his shoulders and Y/N knew what he meant.

Instead of focusing on that – because they could talk about this in the morning – Y/N said, “Kiss me.”

Harry wasted no time. He marched over to her, pressing his lips hard against hers as he started walking her backwards toward the bed. He let her lay down first, taking her rain boots off before she wiggled up to the top, watching as Harry crawled his way up to her, hovering his lips over hers as to tempt her. She tried to lean up to kiss him since he was taking too long, but he moved further away.

“Twat.”

He chuckled, grinning down at her. “How long do you think you can stand not kissing me?”

She brought her hand up to his neck, bringing him down towards her lips. They kissed again – finally. She felt Harry smile against her lips.

“Needy.”

“You were taking too long.”

“You just can’t get enough of me, can you?”

She wanted to roll her eyes at him, but he was correct. She wrapped her legs around him, bringing his core down onto hers. Harry groaned into her; his erecting cock pressed against her heat. He melted into her instantly, burying his hands in her hair.

“Neither can you,” she whispered back, making Harry let out a breathy chuckle.

“I also just want to make it clear,” he said against her lips. “If anything I do is not working, doesn’t do anything for you, doesn’t feel good, or if you want to try something new, a new position or anything like that, tell me, yeah?”

She smiled, nodding her head as they kept kissing. “Yeah. Same goes for you.”

“Do you have a favourite position?”

Y/N froze a little, thinking to herself and blushing when Harry looked down at her.

“What?” he asked.

“I’ve… only ever really done two.”

“Two… positions?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fine, did you enjoy them?”

“Yeah, I did. Sex was never really been about enjoyment as much as it was about closeness.”

Harry furrowed his brows. “You should enjoy sex, Y/N.”

“I know, I know. I just… I used to set fire to myself to keep others warm. I realised that was not what I should be doing, which is why I ended up in St Ives. With you. Here.”

Harry leaned down again, pressing a lingering and deep kiss to her lips. “You will enjoy yourself and feel real fucking good tonight, yeah? We’ll find something that works for both of us.”

She smiled. “Time will tell.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I’ll feel real fucking good.”

Harry halted a little as he heard that word slip from her lips. He had never heard it before. She felt the effect it had on him against her. “I’ll show you, flower.”

He reached down to the hem of her jumper and the two got it off her, throwing it to the floor before they started kissing again. She wrapped her legs around him again, resting her heels at the top of his bum, urging him closer to her. Slowly and deliberately, Harry grinded against her, revealing them both of a small fraction of pleasure, increasing the anticipation that was building in the air around them. Hard against her most delicate spot. She felt a desperate need to reach for him, to feel him right there, as ready for her as she was for him, but she liked this much better. Feeling him moan against her, the slow waves of his hips as he stroked his growing erection against the heat between her legs that was aching. His promise lingered in the back of her head, making her nipples perk at the thought. You will enjoy yourself and feel real fucking good tonight.

Harry’s hand slipped down the front of her white summer dress, lingering over her breast where he felt her already hard nipple. He squeezed her breast, bringing what he could of the nipple between his index and middle finger, squeezing lightly as he started kissing down her jaw. An uncontrollable moan left her mouth as he kissed her neck, chest, between her covered breasts. She felt hot all over as he kissed his way down, leaving no spot untouched by his swollen lips. He reached her thighs, kissing up her right one, leaving wet spots that got cold in the crisp air of the lightkeeper room.

“Turn over,” he said, sitting up on his knees to make the process easier for her.

She did as he told her to without hesitation. Again, he leaned over her, nose nuzzling her hair as he kissed her exposed shoulder. Each one of the kisses he trailed down her shoulder place, and back felt like a declaration of love; felt like a promise of forever, of safe keeping. Right in that moment, she realised she had never felt more appreciated or more turned on. She felt so seen, so important, as Harry kept kissing her back, sucking on her skin, humming moans of absolute delight into her that made goosebumps appear all over her. He reached for the zipper of her dress, kissing her shoulder before he whispered, “Okay if I undress you?”

“Please.”

Harry unzipped her dress, leaving a lingering kiss to her shoulder as he shoved both the straps off her shoulders. She took them off, letting the dress hang loosely over her breasts. Just because she felt like it, she lifted her arse off the bed, pressing it against Harry’s hard-on. It took him off guard and he gasped a little into her ear, but quickly took a grip around her waist. He pressed down hard on her, parting her bumcheeks as his protruding cock could now be seen, and felt, outside his denim shorts.

“Fuck,” he breathed as he grinded against her. His hands slipped down further, hovering over her centre, laying a slight pressure on her over her dress and knickers that was exactly what Y/N needed right then.

“Harry,” she whimpered, feeling him moan at her utterance.

“Dreamed about you saying my name like that,” he mumbled, kissing her shoulder again. “Sound even fucking better than I could’ve imagined.”

He placed more pressure on her, making her gasp and throw her head back slightly, leaning it against Harry’s beside her. They grinded against one another, absolutely lost in this seductive dance that they would have no problem doing forever. Panting a little, Harry kissed her shoulder again, knowing that they could not go on like that, no matter how much they wanted, because he would surely not be able to handle much of it before finishing. The heat between Y/N’s legs was excruciating, she could barely take it as Harry pulled her dress completely off her, exposing her naked back to him.

“On your knees.”

She did as he demanded, getting on her knees in the bed as Harry positioned himself right behind her. He ran his hands over her wet knickers, wanting to properly feel all of her now that he finally had her there. It sent a lightening up her spine, making her moan as he reached her bud, flicking it slowly. He kissed the outside of her knickers before he ran his tongue over her, the hot wetness of him on her made her gasp, sweet torture that she both welcomed and hated. Hooking his fingers under the hem of her knickers, he slid them over her bum and down her legs, and. Again, she felt cold as her wet skin was exposed to the chill room they were in, Harry’s ragged breaths didn’t exactly make it better. She whimpered slightly as she felt his breath go from cold to hot, she could feel the heat of his body radiating against her cunt and bum. With help of her hands, she raised, looking over her shoulder at him to see him there, only his eyes visible as he hovered in front of her.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N,” he whispered, planting a kiss to her bum before he went back to the place she had just been. “I’ll make you come, flower.”

“Actions speak louder than words,” she said, panting slightly in anticipation.

Harry smiled at her, she thought she saw a slight wink before he hovered back over her centre. She was about to tell him to just get on with it when she felt his tongue, hot and wet and hard, between her folds. She gasped again, closing her eyes at the impact. He licked up between her folds first, making sure to taste every last bit of her as he had thought about this for so long. He started off with a light pressure on her clit, licking around it, sometimes over it, driving Y/N absolutely insane. He slowly built up the pressure, making sure he did not overwhelm her, staying focused on the clit the entire time. He wrapped his lips around it, sucking lightly, something that made Y/N throw her head back, letting go of a loud moan that had Harry humming into her.

“Yes,” she gasped, fists buried in the white sheets under her.

He let go of her bud, licking up around the clit again, then over it, flicking it quickly while tipping his head to the side. She bit her bottom lip, looking over her shoulder at Harry as he continued to eat her out, eyes closed as if he was eating the feast of his life. Once again, he wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking lightly at first and building his pressure. Whimpering and panting, Y/N kept looking at Harry, the sight of him behind her like that, doing everything in his power to make her feel good – and succeeding – was so bloody hot.

When she had made her way up here today in the rain, she had never in her wildest dream this was where she would end up. On all fours, Harry seated behind her, eating her out. She had thrown away any hope of him even feeling a smudge of what she felt for him, but tonight, up in the light room, everything changed. Everything they said, and how they opened up to one another. She felt quite literally euphoric; static with adoration and completely engrossed in everything he did.

Harry moved up, slipping his tongue inside her hole, hands sliding down her thighs as he penetrated her. She swallowed thickly, biting at her bottom lip before she met his eyes.

“Doesn’t do anything.”

“Hm?” He moved up, eyes wide as he licked around his lips. “My tongue in you?”

“Yeah. Feels like you’re mushing mash into me.”

Harry laughed, resting his forehead against her bum as he shook, she chuckled as well.

“Don’t hold back,” he said.

“Sorry.”

“No, I’m glad you told me, flower.”

“Also,” she said as he started licking her again, she gasped slightly. “Can we switch? I want to watch you properly.”

Harry blinked slowly, smiling at her as he emerged. “Gladly.”

She turned around, placing herself on her back, Harry stopped to take her in, eyes gliding over her naked body in front of him. He cupped her face in his hands, kissing her deeply as he ran his hands over her tits, squeezing them just hard enough before he lowered them and himself. He positioned himself exactly where he’d been, spreading her legs wider for him.

He sucked on her clit again, this time pushing a finger into her. She instantly moaned loudly, burying her hands in his hair. Harry wrapped an arm around her thigh, holding her in place as he continued to lick at her clit, curving his finger ever so slightly as to make her feel the best she possibly could. She squirmed under him, her orgasm coming on much faster in this position than the last, streaming down her legs, her torso, towards the centre between her thighs where Harry was sucking at her most sensitive spot, pounding his finger into her. She tugged at his hair as she could feel it coming on closer.

“Harry,” she moaned and at once he reached up outside her thigh, cupping her breast in his large hand.

He ran a thumb over her nipples as he flicked at her clit, finger still buried inside her, watching as she started moving and panting and whimpering more and more. He moved his finger faster and sucked her bud, which was exactly what Y/N needed, she cried out, moving her hips with Harry’s fingers. He squeezed her breast, and she met his eyes, seeing his dark green eyes under his long lashes, drinking in the sight of her. He suddenly hit a spot that had fires erupt in her lower tummy. Y/N gasped and let out another loud moan, whimpering under Harry as he licked and fucked her through her orgasm. She did not take her eyes off him and he did not look away from her, ordering her to keep watching till she was completely down from her euphoria.

Y/N was sprawled out panting, smiling as Harry came up to hover above her. She took a grip of his neck, kissing him deeply. He tasted of her.

“I’ll go get a condom in the cottage,” he mumbled. “I-If that’s alright with you, of course. We don’t have-“

“-I want to.”

“Alright. Brilliant.” He stumbled as he got up from the bed in a hurry. “I’ll-I’ll be right back, yeah? Don’t move! I’ll-“ He looked over his shoulder as he stood in the open doorway, a huge sigh leaving his lips as his eyes wandered over her naked body. He shook his head slightly, letting out a chuckle of disbelief. “Fuckin’ hell,” he mumbled before running down the stairs and out of the lighthouse.

It did not take long for him to come back, condom in hand and panting as if he’d been sprinting back and forth. He closed the door again, placing the condom on the corner of the desk beside the bed, crawling back over her again.

“Been away from this for too long,” he mumbled, running a hand over her curves. “And your tits are bloody fantastic, by the way.”

She laughed at him, swatting his shoulder as he reached for the hem of his jumper and tee shirt, bringing both over the top of his head and throwing them to the floor.

“I’d been looking forward to doing that,” Y/N said.

“What, undress me?”

“Yes.”

His eyes seemed to darken a bit. “Take off the rest.”

And she did. Keeping eye contact, she reached for the front of his denim shorts, undoing the button and unzipping him. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, the slight pressure and caress of her fingers against his anticipating and hard prick seemed to do more to him than she thought it would. She hooked her finger around the band of his shorts and boxers, wiggling them down his hips till they were far enough down for him to do the rest. One hand supporting his weight, he used the other one to help her take his clothes off, but her eyes fell to his cock immediately.

It wasn’t like she had thought of it before. Yes, she might’ve had some dreams and daydreams involving Harry and her doing some very filthy things, but she hadn’t really let herself think about his prick. But there it was, and she felt absolutely giddy with anticipation now. She wanted to have proper sex with him; she wanted it so, so bad.

Harry reached for the condom, tearing it open and putting it on, hand sliding down his shaft and to the pubic hair at the very bottom. Seeing the slight trail from his navel and down to it made her mouth water.

“You alright?” Harry asked, that crooked smile on his lips making Y/N’s cheeks heat up. She was already flustered all over, she did not need him looking at her like that. He knew she had been looking and now he was taking the piss. As usual.

“How do you want me?” he asked, voice husky.

She bit her bottom lip, cocking her head to the side. “I dunno.”

He groaned, hovering closer to her lips. She felt him against her sensitive spot, making her gasp. “What can I have?”

She tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck. “I want to be on top.”

That crooked smile came forth again, his dimples deepening. “Yes, ma’am.”

Taking a grip of her waist, he rolled around, making her lay on top of him. His head was on the pillow, right where hers had just been, so Y/N sat up. She took a grip of him, making Harry’s lips part at the impact. He gripped her thighs that were straddling either side of his hips, squeezing her lightly as encouragement. She sat up, bringing him to her, sliding him over the wetness he had caused. He let out a shaky breath, looking to be just as nervous as Y/N felt. She slid down onto him slowly, Harry’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Fuck,” he hissed, and Y/N gasped again.

“Harry,” she said, a little breathless already. “I’ve… I’ve never been on top before.”

He smiled. “That’s fine, here-“ He placed his hands on her hips, urging her to move. She followed his lead, biting her bottom lip hard as her clit rubbed against his pelvic area. “That’s it.”

She continued to grind against him, moving her hips as he was instructing her. Placing her hands on his chest for support, she started moving a little hard, with a little more purpose, Harry’s hands on her thighs a grounding and intense pressure.

“Keep doing that,” he encouraged, letting a moan slip from between his swollen lips. She rolled her hips, loving the filthy sounds they made as the rain kept on crashing against the window. They continued to look into each other’s eyes, not daring to look away as if it would bring them back to reality. Because this was too good to be true. Never before in her life had Y/N felt like this. She felt powerful as she rode Harry, felt a sort of strength in her that had never been present before. It had never been like this with Dominic; it had never been this intense. He hadn’t demanded she order him around, hadn’t been willing or suggested to try new things, hadn’t really done it like this. Harry looked at her as if the world revolved around her alone. As if the centre of the solar system was right here, and he was watching the sun about to eclipse, watching one of the most beautiful and magnificent moments in time. He gripped into her with feverish hands, coming with suggestions every once in a while, always letting her know just how good she was making him feel.

“That’s right,” he moaned as she moved her hips in circles. “Right there. Don’t stop.”

That might just have been the sexiest thing she had ever heard along with his moans. She continued doing exactly what she was doing, feeling her entire body heating up as she could sense her second orgasm that evening. Thinking about it, she wasn’t sure she had ever come twice in one night before. Maybe it was Harry, maybe it was the moment, maybe it was the fact that her and Harry were finally letting their guard down, admitting that there was something else between them besides their fake relationship. People who fake dated each other did not kiss like that, they did not have sex, they did not look at each other like it was all they wanted to do for the rest of their lives. No, this was more than what they had let on. Way more.

Harry sat up, making Y/N fall against his chest as he bent his knees ever so slightly. He placed one hand on her bum and the other on the mattress behind him as to help him move more swiftly. With each stroke over him, Harry thrusted back into her, rubbing at her bud each time and making everything around her seem much more colourful.

“Like that do you?” Harry asked, mouth parted as he panted into her wet lips.

She nodded her head, taking a grip of his shoulders to better move her hips. They moved together, looking into each other’s eyes as the rest of the world disappeared completely around them. The rain, the thunder, the buzzing of the light from upstairs turning on and turning off, it was all tuned out. Harry leaned down, placing one of his hands on her left breast to kneed it seductively. He kissed from her collarbone and down to her breast, sucking and nibbling lightly on her skin as he made his way to her nipple. Sucking it lightly, he looked up at Y/N who was squeezing his shoulders, telling him to keep going. Electricity shot from her tits and down her spine, heating up the fire that was building in her core. He closed his eyes as he sucked and kissed her tits, humming into her and making her moan time and time again. It felt so fucking good. Though she moved a little awkwardly, though they made some sounds together that made both of them laugh and heat up, though they were still trying to figure out what the other liked, this was still the best either had ever had.

As he was closing in on his finish, Harry wrapped both arms around her, bringing her closer to him. They kissed, desperate pleads and whimpers left each of their mouths as everything started setting on fire. Harry moved his hips with her, she tried to continue to move hers along with him, her hips shaking a little with the effort. Harry’s lips parted completely all of a sudden, a furrow appearing between his brows, and she felt it. He twitched against her and she continued to grind her hips, moving him through his orgasm. Looking deep into her eyes, he seemed to completely melt away when she kissed his bottom lip, sighing against him as she herself started getting closer to her second orgasm as well.

“I’ll help you,” Harry said. “I’ll use my hand, if you want?”

“Yes, please.”

He removed his cock from inside her, meeting her eyes as his thumb circled her clit again. Y/N gasped, gripping both sides of Harry’s neck. His lips parted at the pressure, grinning up at her. He brought his other hand forward, slipping his index and ring finger into her while his other thumb continued to flick at her clit. At once she moaned, looking into his eyes as this brought her closer to her climax, fast. She moved with his hand, moaning louder and louder as the fire inside her tummy intensified, feeling even greater than the time before. Harry curled his finger just as he leaned down, sucking on her nipple again, looking up at her through hooded eyes.

Everything exploded and she threw her head back, unable to stop herself. The sound of Harry pounding into her at a fast speed, wet and filthy, echoed through the room with her exclamation of euphoria. Harry continued till she was completely done, watching her as she closed her eyes, breathing heavily above him. Gently, he removed his fingers from inside her, bringing them up to his mouth to lick them clean just as she opened her eyes again.

Y/N felt at peace. Her heart was still thundering away inside her chest, her soul was still intermingled with Harry’s, and they would not let go of one another. They didn’t need that lamp, they didn’t need a lighthouse, they could light up everything on their own. She was sure that at some point tonight, while their bodies grinded together and worked toward climax, they had lit up like the sun. What was going on between them, the cellular reaction, the emotional connection, the physical attraction, it all equated to something. It had to. What this was, was greater than either of them individually. This would forever be marked on their souls. Meeting Harry, spending this summer with him, it had shaped her into a brand-new person. That was, Y/N reminded herself, what love was all about after all. Change for the better.

Harry got a cloth not long after, helping clean Y/N up before they both slipped under the duvet in the lightkeeper room, squished together as the bed was way smaller than what they were used to. Harry ran his hand from Y/N’s cheek and up to her shoulder, his eyes following his hand’s movement.

“I fucking worship you, Y/N,” Harry mumbled, the rain still pouring outside. He caressed his fingers gently over her jawline.

She moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around him. They both closed their eyes and Y/N felt sleep coming closer. She felt so incredibly content, cuddled up to Harry and with the storm raging outside. A couple a seconds away from falling asleep, Harry started whispering against her forehead.

“Play fair with my heart, yeah?” It seemed like he thought she was asleep. That it was safe to say this. “’Cause I’m gonna fall in love with you. You don’t have to love me back, but I’m telling you now, ‘cause it’s inevitable, at one point, I’ll love you. Madly, truly, completely. Just… please… break my heart gently.”

Before she was able to form any sort of reply, she fell asleep.

A/N: If you wonder what the melody Harry wrote for that day spent in St Austell with Y/N and Gracie sounds like, I imagine it goes something like this 🥰

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aressss1 · 3 years

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Through Fire and Ice Chapter 4

(Technoblade x Reader)

Chapter 4

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Note: the amount of support I have gotten on this is amazing! You guys are awesome! <3 The newest chapter is going to be out soon! :D

~~~~~~

You woke up hazily, an unfriendly boot nudging your shoulder. Your vision was blurry, and to make things worse you were lightheaded. You buried your face into the mattress further making a whine of protest at who you thought was Techno’s boot. You felt the boot nudge you again even harder this time. You let out another whine.

“Gods, why are you such a dick this morning?” You questioned, craning your neck to look at the man who loomed above you. When your eyes focused on the man, you felt your eyes widening, and you tried pushing yourself up. Fatigue had gotten the best of your body, and you couldn’t find the strength to push yourself up into a standing position. So, your only option that was left, was scooting yourself away from the man, until your back was pressed firmly against the wall next to the fireplace. Nowhere else to go…

“What are you doing here?” The blonde man rested his hand on the end of his sword. You let your eyes dart around the room, looking for anything that might help you. “Eyes on me,” The man’s words were dangerous, and his hand tightened on the handle of the sword. “I won’t ask you again.”

“I could ask the same of you then.” You shot back, your eyes narrowing at him. Your vision still blurry, the sickness was still getting the best of you.

“No, you can’t.” He simply said, “Answer me.” You ground your teeth, looking for any way to get out of this situation.

“I was… Resting.” You eyed the man, memorizing his face. He didn’t seem to believe you. His mouth twisted into a frown, and his eyes scanned the house.

“This your house?” He asked kneeling next to his sword which was still digging into the floorboards. You glared at him through the haze of your mind. This was not the best situation.

“No.” Your voice was laced with acid. “I just happened upon it in the fog.” You hissed through your teeth. You watched his fingers tap at the hilt absentmindedly. He didn’t question further on that topic.

“Are you alone?” You felt your breath catch in your throat. You didn’t know if you should tell this man the answer. Either way didn’t seem like it would end in good consequences, no matter how you looked at it. You didn’t have strength to walk, let alone fight… You didn’t know where Techno was, and when he was coming back… The dread started spreading through your chest. You were probably going to die here, and if you told him you weren’t alone, he may just wait for Techno and ambush him… The other option wasn’t so good either… But if he believed you that you were alone, he may just move on…

“Yes.” You breathed out, you found you couldn’t read his expression. He still was tapping away at the hilt of the sword.

“Uh huh,” He didn’t sound convinced. Your heart rate rose, and out of the corner of your eye you could see the poker Techno had used to stir the fire, hung up neatly in its holder. Your focus was brought back to the man when he put his sword up to your throat. “I don’t recommend lying to me again. You thought I was someone else when I woke you up.” The sword at your throat, was enough to get your adrenaline pumping. You cursed at yourself for your screw up.

“What do you want?” You glared up at him, your nails digging into the wood of the floorboards. At the question he lowered his sword. He was silent for a moment in thought.

“Information.” He simply stated, “Things don’t have to go sideways, we can talk like normal adults.”

“I’m not one for talking.” You wrinkled your nose at him. He breaks in here and expects you to just comply with everything he wanted? No, not going to happen. “Put your sword away.” You may be more willing to talk then.

“You’re not in the position to just be making demands.” His eyes leveled with you. “Even if you weren’t sick, you would still be in the same position.” He leaned toward you. “Now… You’re going to tell me what I want to know.” As you saw him lean you took your chance and you bent your knee toward your chest and propelled your foot toward his face, he dodged the kick, and you took that chance to start grasping for the poker hanging near you. His eyes snapped to your hand grabbing for the poker. He was faster than you and he lunged forward with his sword.

In a matter of seconds, his sword had impaled your shoulder. Your voice was weak, and you cry out, hoping anyone could hear you. You felt tears start to prick at your eyes. The pain was immense. You grit your teeth, groaning in pain.

“Okay… That wasn’t how I wanted it to go.” The man muttered and in one stroke pulled the sword out of your flesh. You rolled on your side cradling the wound in your shoulder. The pain was unbearable, and your vision started to blur, you couldn’t focus on his face anymore. The man let out an exhausted sigh and brought his hand up to cover his eyes for a second, as he processed what he was going to do next.

Well… He wasn’t given more than a second, before a loud bang could be heard at the door. The sudden sound startling you. You watched as another bang had landed on the door not a second later. The man wasn’t facing you; he was watching the door. And with a small pause a third and final bang came from the door, but this time, the door flew off its hinges and landed straight onto the man, winding him, and making him fall to the floor.

Losing your grip on consciousness, your eyes skimmed the wound the sword had made. The sight of the blood making you sick. You weren’t necessarily squeamish… but the concept that an immense amount of your blood was now pooling onto the ground beneath you, made your stomach turn. Bile rose in your throat. The world around you blurred and it sounded as if you were submerged in water, accompanied by a ringing in your ears. You felt a pair of cool hands touch your face trying to get you to focus. You willed your eyes to stay open, your eyes meeting Techno’s gaze.

You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but that didn’t matter to you… You got lost in the golden eyes behind the mask. He looked like he was begging you to stay awake, promising you that he would get you help. Your focus stayed on the rough hand cupping your face, and before you knew it… Your eyes slowly closed, and you were gone to the world.

Techno was relieved to see his cottage in the distance, the smoke still pluming out of the chimney, he breathed a sigh of relief, ‘Good, at least she’s warm.’ He thought to himself.

‘Wouldn’t you like to warm her up yourself?’ A voice taunted, causing Techno to tense up.

“Mark her up. Spill her blood.” More whispers of the same caliber stayed in his head. The voices demanding that he protect you or kill you. He could handle it, he wouldn’t lose his grip on reality, that, he would make sure of. Shaking his head, trying to clear the voices away, he trudged further on through the snow.

When he was just a few steps away from the porch, he froze, his eyes lingering over the track marks leading to the stairs. Someone had gone to the door… But… there wasn’t tracks leading away from the house.

‘Danger.’

‘Blood.’

‘They have her,’ The whispers in his mind drowned everything else out. Overstimulated from the voices, telling him to find you, he tried looking for his keys. His hands shook and he fumbled when he found them. But the one thing that he could hear… Was the familiar sound of flesh being torn, and your cries of pain.

That was it, he was done. In one swift movement he had kicked the door. His blood ringing in his ears, the voices spurring him on. When it didn’t budge, he kicked it again. When that didn’t work his boot for a third time landed on the door, causing the door to splinter from the frame and fly off and hit whoever was behind the door. His eyes scanned the room and he dashed to you. His hands cupping your cheeks.

“Hey, stay with me… I’m going to get you out of here.” His words hung in the air. His gaze kept yours, and he felt your hand gently grasp at his shirt before your eyes slowly closed. He swallowed down his sadness, and his eyes scan over the door still lying on the man.

‘He should die for touching her.’

‘Blood for the blood god.’

He sneers, at the parts of the man he can see underneath the door, and he rises to his feet. Summoning an axe forth, he steps toward the man. His steps ringing out on the floorboards. Raising his axe, he stops just short of the door. Using his foot, he kicks the door away all the while ready to swing the axe. When he could see the blues of his eyes, he swings for blood.

An arrow narrowly misses Techno, just inches from his face, making him stop mid swing. Techno cranes his neck at the new threats standing in the doorway. The one who had the bow in their hands… Was Sapnap.

“Stand down Techno.” Sapnap warned, grabbing, and loading the arrow into the bow.

“Or what?” Techno spat out his eyes briefly looking down at the downed man in front of him. His heart sunk when he realized just who the man was… Phil… The axe clatters to the ground, and Techno takes a step back.

“Hey mate.” Phil says awkwardly waving to him from the ground. Techno felt winded, he had almost… Killed Philza… His best friend…

“Who’s this?” A familiar and irritating voice asked from behind him from where you were lying. He turned and saw Dream crouching over you. Techno hesitated, swallowing his irritation.

“Just some rando.” He stated, turning to help Philza up off the ground. “I need to brew some potions; she’s lost a lot of blood already, from when I found her in the fog.” Dream didn’t hesitate, and he scooped up your body into his arms.

“We can take her from here.” Dream simply said strolling out with you in his arms, George followed him. The urge was strong to stop Dream from taking you. He stopped himself, ridiculing himself of his urges and actions to protect you. He had met you yesterday…

“Get your anger in control Techno, Phil might put up with it, but we won’t.” Sapnap lingered by the door, his eyes boring into Techno. “We need people who are level-headed and what you just showed us… Is not level-headed…” Sapnap disappeared down the stairs. Techno kept his eyes glued to the place where Sapnap was standing.

“It was the voices again wasn’t it?” Phil asked. He was cradling his right arm; it was definitely broken. Techno felt the guilt, and he slowly looked over at Phil and nodded. “I haven’t seen you like that since-”

“I know.” Techno interjected, as he looked away in shame. “I-I’m sorry Phil.”

“It’s okay Techno, I know how it is… I’m just glad those guys came when they did!” Phil flashed a smile at Techno, but Techno could hear the shakiness to Phil’s voice. He knew he was feared. Most of the time it didn’t bother him. But there was something that made him scared that you or Phil were going to fear him…

“Why were they even out here?” Techno asked.

“They’re the rescue team. They probably were just checking the house out and found us.” Phil explained. “We got an operation going, back at the community mine.”

“Hey guys?” George popped his head into the doorway, “We need to get back, your friend isn’t doing too well, she’s riding with Dream. He’s going on ahead, so she can get the care she needs. I would suggest bringing anything that might help. We have a caravan for supplies we happen across.” George, just as fast as he appeared, he disappeared.

“Let’s go home, Techno,” Phil said weakly smiling at him. Techno didn’t get how Phil could still smile at him like that… He had almost killed him and here he was… Just smiling. Phil helped to gather everything that would be useful, after wrapping his arm in a sling, and Techno hauled it out to the caravan.

When he stepped outside his eyes scanned for any sign of you or Dream… But the two of you were already gone. He didn’t let his disappointment show, but Sapnap caught him looking for you and let out a breathy laugh.

“Lookin’ for something?” Sapnap taunted. Techno’s glare fueled the amusement in Sapnap’s eyes. Sapnap crossed his arms in a smug manner, and he leaned against Techno’s house. Techno rolled his eyes and shook his head. There wasn’t time for any of this. He wanted to be there for you when you woke up, so that you would have at least one familiar face around. Techno sighed turning and went to go pack the rest of his house.

You felt like you were hit by a train, and each movement of the horse you were on sent another jolt through your body. Opening your eyes, you look up from the arms of the man cradling your body on the horse. He wore a white mask with a happy face on it. You were only conscious for a second, but you hid your face into his chest to hide from the harsh winds whipping around the two of you. His arms tightened around you and that was the last thing you felt before you slipped into unconsciousness again.

#technoblade x reader #technoblade/reader #c!techno x reader #techno fanfic #c!techno #angst #Through Fire and Ice #mcyt x reader

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elenamiria · 3 years

Text

Danny Torrance x Reader - Kinktober Day 30

Temperature Play | Sixty-Nine | Dub-Con | Xenophilia

Word Count: 4.5k (🤡 oops) Warnings: Dub-con! Possessed!Danny, fem reader, violence against reader, choking (in a non sexual way), brief oral (f receiving), Biting and marking, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, rough sex, slight daddy kink, feelings (fluff and slight angst)

Kinktober Day 29 « Kinktober Masterlist » Kinktober Day 31

Main Masterlist & Taggies: @legally-a-bastard , @katrynec , @mistermiraclee , @obitwo , @justanotherblonde23

When Danny had come home distraught you heard him heading up the stairs to his room, yours being below his, and thought maybe you should go check on him. You hadn't at first, not wanting to disturb him, he was closer to Billy than he was to you so you worried it might be odd just showing up. Billy had introduced the two of you and you all had dinner together a few times a week when Danny was off. You had a soft spot for Danny, the way he always seemed to know when something was bothering you, his kind eyes and smile, and his soft, caring nature all drew you towards him. Not that you would ever admit your little crush to him, he never seemed to look your way twice. But, when you heard a smashing noise and glass skittering across the ceiling you decided that maybe you should in fact go see if he was alright.

The door was ajar and you slowly entered the room. He was against the black wall, hands pressing firmly into it, and you called out his name softly. As you got closer you could hear him speaking but it wasn't to you. Unsure of what to do you stood there until he jolted towards the wall with a gasp - like he was waking up from a trance. You called out to him again and he spun to you eyes wide. You stepped back for a second at the wild look on his face and then quickly approached when you noticed the blood on his upper lip. Reaching up you gently trailed your fingers down his cheek as you whispered, "Are you hurt?"

He shook his head, still breathing heavily and he replied, "No, I'm fine but Abra. I have to go get her, they took her."

A million questions ran through your head but he had a desperate look about him and so you simply said, "How can I help?"

You could hardly believe the tale Danny told you on the way to pick up Abra but you knew he was telling the truth, the way he looked at you as if begging for you to trust him only confirmed that. It was a good thing you agreed to come along Danny was exhausted and when you offered to take over driving so he could rest he happily accepted.

Now the three of you were on your way to the Overlook Hotel and an uncomfortable feeling was sitting heavily in your stomach. You couldn't shake the feeling despite the determination that your two companions seemed to have and you knew Danny could tell something was going on by the way he kept glancing at you. When you stopped at the gas station at the bottom of the mountain you were tense you couldn't tell if your body wanted to scream or cry or both but something in you was telling you to run far far away from the hotel you were heading towards and never look back. Dan laid a warm hand on your knee and your gaze snapped from the mountain to him. He offered you and then Abra a small smile before he lowly stated, "Not too much further, up the mountain."

When his hand left you to return to the steering wheel you wanted nothing more than to chase after it and interlace your fingers together but you shook the feeling off as just your nerves besides now was not exactly the time for romance.

As you gazed into the gaping maw of the hotel you could feel your whole body trembling and you knew it wasn't due to the snow falling around you. As Danny explained that he wanted Abra to wait in the car you stood patiently waiting to see what your role would be in all of this. Danny finally turned to you as Abra retreated into the car, "I want you to wait with her. When we're in there you stay with her the whole time, that way if something happens to me she'll have you."

You blinked up at him, shivering slightly as you replied - "If it's dangerous for you shouldn't you have someone come with you. I'm not like you two, right? So maybe I could help you."

Danny smiled at you, "You are like us, you just don't know. Billy was like us too, he could always sense people, he could tell who they were before he'd even say hello. You, right now you're shaking and it's because you can sense things too."

His arms grasped your elbows, your arms tightly wrapping around yourself, "So you'll stay with Abra, I'll go in alone. I'll be alright"

You hesitantly nodded, sharing a long look at each other as if trying to communicate words unspoken before you retreated to the car and watched Dan Torrance walk into the overlook hotel.

It wasn't long before Abra was calling Dan back out to you and the three of you were heading into the hotel together this time, Abra clutching onto both you and Danny. From there everything happened so quickly you barely had time to process it all. One second everything seemed to be going according to plan and the next everything went to hell. Danny had ordered you and Abra to run and so you did, holding the young girl's hand tightly terrified of losing her to this place. You could hear Danny's screams as they echoed through the abandoned halls and you had to stop yourself from going back for him. When you and Abra ran into the the twins you knew something had happened to Danny and you wrapped a protective arm around Abra. Slowly you tugged her backwards away from the twins and turned to go back down the hall, freezing once you saw Danny. Abra spoke but you couldn't focus what she was saying as blood rushed through your ears, every atom of your being screaming at you to run. You found yourself whispering the word 'run' aloud as Danny lifted his head and pure terror rushed through you. Abra sprinted ahead of you, still holding onto your hand as the two of you fled. You let her take the lead as she seemed sure in her path, though there was nothing to assure you that it wasn't the hotel leading you to certain doom.

Ducking into room 237 you pushed her behind you as Danny's deranged shouts of your name and then hers filled the air, growing closer and closer. She clung to your back, small hands gripping your sides, and you bit back tears as the two of you backed further into the room. You held your breath as you watched Danny's shadow pass by the door and exhaled shakily when he seemed to pass by, you took long deep breaths - all you had to do was get to the car and you'd be fine. You turned to Abra who was staring into the bathroom but you gently shook her, she jumped slightly before focusing on you. You were certain Dan would return and when he did you were going to distract him so Abra could escape, she tried to argue but as you positioned her next to the door you reassured her with fake smile and, “It’s alright, I’ll be right behind you.”

The door sprung open far sooner than you hoped and your heart pounded in your chest as Danny advanced. His gaze intense, his white eye staring through you as his blue eye darkened. He stalked towards you calling out your name in a low growl, “You’ve been very very bad.”

You froze as the axe came dangerously close to your face, the blunt end trailing just along the edge of your body as Danny questioned, “Where is she?”

Trembling you felt tears gather in your eyes as the cold metal of the axe slid up your cheek and you choked out, “I don’t know we went separately.”

You could see Abra in your peripheral vision slowly sneaking out of the room and you wanted to sigh in relief but your attention was quickly brought back to Dan’s face as his eyes narrowed at you, “Naughty girl, I told you to stay with her and now you don’t know where she is is that right??”

You met Abra’s hesitant eyes over Danny's shoulder as you nodded and she took off. Danny started to turn at the noise but you did your best to distract him, attempting to wrestle the axe away.

He snarled, his voice distorted and echoing with other voices that didn't belong to him and he grabbed you by the throat lifting you effortlessly before throwing you. You slammed into the wall with a scream, falling to the floor and you let out a small whine as you tried to rise, gripping the side table next to you tightly. Dan approached you laughing as your head swam, you looked up at him tears in your eyes and he froze. His head tilted slightly as he watched you shakily fight back your sobs, his eyes narrowed - "How interesting."

You were hauled to your feet by a firm hand grasping your hair and wrenching your head to the side, Danny buried his face into your neck. Inhaling deeply there was another harsh laugh and then, "You smell so so delicious."

He bit harshly into the junction between your neck and shoulder causing you to cry out in pain that quickly morphed into a whimper as he suckled and lapped at the spot.

"W-what are you doing, Danny?" You knew the question was pointless as this wasn't your Danny. However you received a response though it didn't answer anything, "We're going to do what he was too afraid to."

Danny had dropped the axe at some point and his hand slid up your body to grope at your breasts before gripping your throat tightly. You gasped for air before Dan's mouth enveloped yours in a hot and needy kiss, his tongue slipping easily into your parted mouth. Your eyes slid shut as you tried to pretend that this was actually Danny kissing you and not whatever was currently possessing his body, when you didn't respond he tightened his hand cutting off your air supply. Your hands shot to his arm, scraping at his jacket desperately to pull him off, and your eyes flew open again. He pulled back, breathing heavily, as his eyes trailed you up and down. A half smirk covered his face as he spoke, this time sounding more like himself just low and gravelly, "Don't act like you don't like this dove. I can sense your arousal. Just let us in, let us feast on you."

His hand finally relaxed just as your vision had started to go blurry and you gasped harshly for air, barely able to get any before once again his lips were devouring yours. You moaned into his mouth when Danny slipped his hands under your shirt, sliding up to your tits and he grabbed at them with an appreciative moan of his own. He played with your nipples, pinching and pulling just hard enough that there was a slight sting and enough to make you cry out in pleasure. His lips pulled apart from yours after swallowing down every little noise you made while he played with you and trailed to your neck.

Danny looked up at you, his milky eye seeming to pierce your soul, before he bit once again though this time higher up. He seemed to delight in the cry that flew from your mouth. He continued his treatment as his hands made quick work of your clothing, tearing it away when it wasn't easy to take off. You called out his name in alarm as he ripped your shirt in half but he simply grinned as he once again teased your breasts. He continued marking you down your neck and collarbone until he reached your chest. Whispering 'mine.' before biting harshly at the tops of your tits and sucking marks into them.

You grasped at the back of his head, running your fingers through his hair and tugging slightly as he bit at you. His eyes snapped up to your face and your breath hitched at the feral look in his eyes. He stood up to his full height locking eyes with you while his hands trailed down your body to your waist, gripping hard enough you knew there were going to be bruises. He spun you around, pushing you hard into the wall, hands tugging your pants and underwear down your legs. You trembled as your face pressed against the cold plaster, shivering as your body was exposed to the cold air.

Danny knelt on the ground as he pulled your legs free of their clothing, warm palms grasping at your ass before spreading you apart and baring your wet cunt to him. You heard him inhale deeply and you yelped as once again Danny bit you, this time your sensitive inner thigh. He whispered 'mine' again before his tongue licked up your thigh up to your pussy. He licked three long lines up the entire length of your slit, groaning each time he tasted your sweet juices, his tongue pressing flat and wide against you. The fourth time he trailed his tongue through your lips, down your thigh, over your ass cheek and all the way up your spine until he rose behind you and pressed his body into yours.

Dan's clothing dug into your soft skin as he repositioned you, yanking your hips backwards but pressing your face harder into the wall. You couldn't help the garbled moan that flew past your lips when you felt his hard length pressing into you from behind. Your body, seemingly moving of it's own accord, ground into his cock pleading for him.

"Patience, dove. We have all the time we need." He growled out, his hands fumbling with his jeans. He undid them just enough to pull out his cock, hard and throbbing, as you tried to glance behind you to look at him. His hands returned to your body, one burying itself in your hair to keep you still and his other arm wrapping around your hips to pull you back towards him and then without warning he was inside you.

You screamed, startled at the harsh intrusion, as his length filled you. He stretched your tight little cunt out but you were so soaked he was able to slip inside without a problem. You heard a deep moan from him as his hips starting to pull back and forth, pumping his hard cock in and out of you. His pace started slow, with powerful thrusts burying him to the hilt on each forward movement, but that didn't last for long as he growled out your name and his hands flew to your waist. His grip was hard and his rhythm animalistic as he pounded into you, pulling you harshly into him with his firm grip on you. Your whole body was jerking in time with the power of his thrusts, your hands bracing on the wall to keep from slamming your face into it over and over again as you cried out on every thrust. Your vision blurred with tears as he fucked you, pleasure overwhelming your body.

Loud grunts echoed off the wall from behind you as he muttered out incomprehensible words mixed with light moans of your name. You begged him - "More, Danny harder! Please touch me, please!!" - as you felt your orgasm fast approaching, needing touch and stimulation elsewhere on your body. Suddenly everything was ripped away from you leaving you to pant against the wall until you were spun around. Your leg was hitched up around his hips as he plunged his rock hard cock into you once again, tearing a hoarse moan from you. His pace was brutal and one of his hands grasped your jaw harshly as he hissed, nostrils flaring, "You look at me when you cum dove. You hear me, are you gonna be a good girl for daddy?"

You cried out as his other hand circled your clit alternating between teasing touches and then pressing hard enough on the little bundle of nerves that you saw stars while he pounded away into you. Your walls clenched around him, squeezing hard, as a scream ripped from your throat when he pinched at your clit, pulling your orgasm from you. The tears that had been filling your eyes spilled over and Danny laughed before it broke off into a deep moan as your hot walls clung to him. You had stared into his eyes as he ordered when your orgasm hit but as it overwhelmed you your eyes slid shut of their own accord. You were gasping for breath as you came down and you didn't notice the way Danny's hands softened around you and how his hips slowed.

A weak call of your name met your ears and your eyes flew open desperately. Your eyes met Danny's confused and dazed blue orbs and you gasped. Your hands flew to his face as a soft smile covered your face, "Danny, I knew you were there."

He looked down at where your bodies became one and immediately jerked back, whimpering slightly as his length pulled from your warm body. You whined, trying your best to catch your breath. Danny’s face contorted in concentration as he gripped his head, “Fuck, I can’t hold them back for much longer. You have to go!”

“No, not without you Danny.” You cried as you inched towards him, freezing when you noticed for the first time his leg. Putting your danger aside you immediately walked to him and pulled his belt from his pants, ignoring his length bobbing next to your hand, pausing only to nudge his legs apart. He called out your name again, an edge to his voice that wasn't there a moment ago, “Go now! I can’t-”

He cut himself off with a cry as you wrapped the belt around his upper thigh and tightened it with all your strength, quickly tying it off. There was an inhuman roar and then you were once again being slammed up against the wall, both of his hands at your throat and face contorted in a snarl. Your feet lifted off the ground and for the first time in this encounter you truly feared for your life, hands scrabbling trying to pull his away. Having to fight your instincts you lifted one of your hands away to softly brush your fingertips against his face as you weakly croaked his name. Your gentle touch allowed him to gain control again as he let go of your neck, hands flying to your shoulders to support you.

Clinging to him you coughed and sputtered as you inhaled deep gulps of air after a few moments finally listening to what Danny was saying."You have to go, I can't hold them back and I can't stop them from taking you again. Please, you need to go."

Looking at him you shook your head despite wanting to crack at his pleading eyes. You swallowed deeply as you stood straight again, "No Danny, let them take what they need from me. I'm not leaving without you."

You cupped his face softly and pressed your lips to him, kissing him tenderly. Danny hesitated for a moment before he responded with a passion that took your breath away. As he parted he looked at you with a softness that you had only dreamed about before he whispered, "If I do this they won't be gone forever, I'm not strong enough to lock them all away right now."

You nodded as you stared up with the same affection that you saw in his eyes mirrored on your face, "I know, but I'll be with you through it all. If this is what we need to do to get you out of here alive, then we'll do it. Will you take me now, before they take control again? I want to know what it's like to be loved by you."

Danny leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips, though it quickly deepened as his hand slid to your back tugging you close to him. You raised your leg and he was quick to catch it with his spare hand, angling it so it was most comfortable for you. One of your hands cupped his neck and your other trailed down his chest and stomach to grasp his cock loosely. You hadn't had time to appreciate just how big he was when you first were getting fucked but as you gently stroked his length a few times you couldn't hold back the appreciative moan as you felt his size. Lining him up with your cunt you swirled his tip through your drenched folds. Danny broke apart from you, forehead gently pressing to yours and connecting you as he asked, "Are you sure about this?"

Your answer was to press your hips forward, sinking his head into your cunt as you whimpered out a soft 'yes'. Danny pressed forward slowly easing his cock into you and even though he had been in you mere moments ago he still stretched you out deliciously. Where he had been fast and rough before he was now gentle and slow, wanting to savor every moment he had with you. His pace was slow as he pulled out only to fill you up again and again. You called out his name and he swore, face burying in your neck. Danny's hips sped up and you whimpered, his hands slid to your waist both to hold you up and to pull you as close to him as he could. He had noticed the blooming bruises on your neck and now he laved them with attention, pressing soft tender kisses to the areas and nuzzling into you.

You could tell he was starting to lose control again as his body jerked slightly when he pulled back and his grip on your waist tightened again to the point of slight pain. His breathy moans turned into deep grunts as he sped up suddenly pounding into you like he had earlier. Clinging to him his pace practically lifted you off your feet and you squeaked as he rammed into your cervix, legs buckling. Danny's face stayed buried in your neck, though now he was focused on marking up your collarbone with sucking and biting, while he destroyed you - fucking you so well you knew you would never be able to think of anyone but him.

He suddenly jerked away from your neck as one hand came down to rub tight circles on your clit, your walls fluttering in pleasure at the stimulation, and you thought he must be close with the way he fucked into you. Your mouth fell open in pleasure as he quickly brought you to another peak, the crown of your head hitting against the wall as your head lolled backwards, his other hand grasped your chin again to pull you up - forcing you to look at him as you came. Body trembling you spasmed against him, pussy clenching and flexing as he slid against your tight walls, it was only moments later when he was tipping over the edge as the two of you locked eyes.

For just a second his eyes flashed to their normal brilliant blue as he cried out your name before they darkened and a sheen covered his eye once again. His hips bucked deep, filling you to the brim, as his seed shot deep into your core. The feeling sent another wave of spasms through you as he painted your walls with him, claiming you in the most primal sense. As he finished his hips stilled as his head dropped to your shoulder and you stroked the back of his head and his hair softly.

There was a pregnant pause before Danny was pulling away from you, both eyes blue once more, and tucking himself away into his pants. You quickly found your clothing and tugged it on not wanting to risk him losing control again and you figured you only had a short period of time while he had full control to get out of the hotel. Pausing you realized your shirt was torn clean in half and was unsalvageable. Danny stared, face pink with embarrassment, he quickly shucked his coat and pulled the flannel he was wearing over his head offering it to you. Gratefully you accepted it, pulling it over your head, with your dilemma solved you turned towards Danny and tugged his arm over your shoulder once he put his jacket back on. You knew his leg would make it harder for him to walk now that there wasn't supernatural support pushing him along and you also knew your time was limited considering the boiler room situation. Glancing at Danny you couldn't help the soft smile covering your face as you simply stated, "Let's get the fuck out of here."

Your eyes blinked open blinded slightly by the bright lights shining down on you. A groan left your lips as you sat up straight, having almost slid all the way off your chair at some point during your sleep. Wearily you sat up as you remembered your surroundings, the hospital. Shooting forward your eyes shot to the bed and your face heated when you met Danny's sweet gaze.

"G'morning." He softly said, you smiled and rose to come close to his bedside, your hand resting on his lightly. Smiling you replied with a gentle, "Good morning to you too. How are you feeling?"

"Well I'm on some pain medication so it's not too bad. How is..." He trailed off, face dropping in guilt as he motioned to your neck area. Reassuringly you squeezed his hand, "It's fine, not bad at all. Honestly the ache in my...."

Your face heated at your thoughtless words before you muttered, "My soreness elsewhere is uhm distracting me."

Danny couldn't hold back a gentle laugh at your words as a blush rose to his cheeks another beautiful smile breaking out across his face. Your spare hand rose to stroke his face fondly before you paused and pulled your hand away, unsure of where your relationship stood with him. Dan's smile dropped slightly as his head tilted, he seemed to sense the problem as he whispered, "Darling I'm yours if you'll have me, I promise as soon as I get out of here I'll take you on a date and we can go from there."

For some reason his words overwhelmed you and tears pricked at your eyes, whether from relief or happiness you couldn't quite tell. Danny's eyes grew before he cooed out your name, hand tugging you forward so he could press soft kisses to your cheek whispering pleas not to cry into your skin. You nuzzled into his cheek before cupping his face once again as you pulled back finally ready to admit what you'd known all along, "Danny I'd love nothing more than for you to be mine, I think it's pretty clear by now. I love you Dan Torrance."

#danny torrance x reader #Kinktober 2020 #Danny torrance #doctor sleep fanfiction #possessed danny torrance #reader insert smut #ewan mcgregor fanfiction #ewan mcgregor smut #tw dubcon #Ewan McGregor #doctor sleep #danny torrance smut #danny torrance x you #danny torrance x y/n #horror

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lachesis-games · 3 years

Text

Trouvaille Short Story

m!Trouvaille

tw: swearing, mild violence

This trip started out very simple. Go into the forest, gather spell ingredients, then get out. Getting dragged underwater by a sticky horse was not part of the plan.

While the others were searching for normal herbs like tarragon, nutmeg, or wormwood, you and Antigone waded knee deep in a wide pond. Morning sunlight streamed through the trees, casting an ethereal glow on the water’s surface.

“Remind me again what you need curly pondweed for?” you call out to her.

The witch doesn’t look up from her task when answering, “They promote growth in spells. And encourage perseverance.”

The plant itself was plentiful. Too plentiful, as she told you earlier that it was an invasive species. But every time you thought you found a good stem, Antigone waved you off, stating that your pick was too dark or too old or too tough.

You straighten up and stretch out your aching back. Tedium aside, the forest was beautiful in the morning. Red dragonflies skimmed the surface, creating ripples that jostled the aquatic flora. The natural song of chirping crickets and croaking frogs sounded throughout the clearing. At the water’s edge, a few meters to your right, you can see a dark figure among the cattails. It’s wide, but short, and moving slightly.

When you get closer, you can make out the creature’s long gray mane and thick black body. There are mossy spots and algae strewn across its body. It looks like it lives near the pond, but something about it seemed out of place in the tranquil forest.

“Um, Antigone?” you try to keep your voice down.

“What?”

“Are there supposed to be ponies in the forest?” You take your eyes off the animal to glance at her over your shoulder.

Her head snaps up and she drops the flat woven basket she’d been holding.

“Shit!”

Before either of you can react, the pony whinnies, rears up, and charges you. You’re too slow to dodge and it rams into you. Instead of sending you flying, you find yourself stuck to its flank as it dives deeper into the pond.

The pond is much deeper than expected and every few feet, the water gets colder and darker. Light brown sediment billows up as the probably-not-actually-a-pony settles into the bottom.

The surprise attack, along with your wildly thumping heart means you’re losing air fast and the creature doesn’t seem like it’ll surface any time soon. Your elbow is fastened tight to the creature’s side. If you can just get to your dagger!

You open your eyes and regret it. The sting of the dirty water only hinders you more. You can’t see anything more than two feet in front of you clearly.

Panic sets in and you thrash and kick, desperately trying to separate from the creature. Its skin’s adhesive surface clings onto you. The harder you thrash, the more you pull at your own skin and clothes.

They say to be completely calm if you’re ever being held underwater, but the proverbial “they” are stupid and clearly have never been drowned before.

Black spots dance across your vision. Your lungs burn and your head starts to ache. Great. The artifact wouldn’t kill you. Nor would vampires or werewolves or any other badass way to die. No, you’re a lucky one. You get to die via drowning, stuck to this thing like gum on the bottom of someone’s shoe.

The pony flinches and so do you. It kicks up sediment in its panic. You get tossed around along with it until you feel a small hand on your shoulder. Sharp claws dig into you as it drags you away from the pony.

You can finally make out Antigone’s silhouette as she pulls you close. She presses her lips to yours. Air fills your lungs. Your vision and headache settle, and the burning sensation in your lungs subsides.

A blast of light breaks through your clenched eyelids. Her mouth is on yours again, breathing life into you. For some reason, though, she doesn’t do anything else. Just sits there and keeps breathing into you whenever your lungs start to burn again.

There’s a heavy splash above you. The cold sediment kicks up again and tiny bubbles pepper your face.

Someone hooks their arms under your armpits and the next thing you know, you’re being dragged up the bank of the pond.

Head spinning, you cough up what feels like gallons of water. In your delirium, you think you hear your name.

“There you are!” a familiar voice cries.

You rub your eyes and look up.

T.V. takes a step towards you, then stops. You want to tell him you’re alright, but Jackie grabs you in a bone-crushing hug.

Her clothes are soaking wet.

“We saw the basket floating in the pond! What the hell happened!?”

You hack more water and algae out of your lungs.

“Water pony,” you wheeze out.

“Huh?”

“Kelpie,” Antigone says through violent coughs. Despite her having been the one to save you, she seems much worse for wear. Dakota white-knuckles her hand.

“Kelpies are shapeshifters.” He pants, also soaking wet. T.V. is the only one bone dry. “They take the form of a pony or horse and drown people for fun,” he explains. “What happened?”

You take a deep breath, “It dragged me down underwater. Antigone came to save me.”

Dakota’s eyes widen as he grabs the witch by the shoulders.

“You did what? Are you high?” he demands.

“Wait, hang on!” Jackie interjects. “What’s the problem here? She kept them both alive until we got there!”

Dakota crosses his arms. “The problem here is that Annie can’t--!”

Antigone cuts him off. “What was I supposed to do? Let the kid drown?” she rasps and shrugs off her knit sweater.

“Of course not! I just--” Groaning, he buries his face into her neck. Antigone allows the touch and strokes his hair gently. Her tired gaze flickers over to you. Jackie’s concerned voice steals your attention.

“Let’s get you back to the shop,” she says, holding a hand out to you.

You clasp her hand and the two of you pull in tandem. The moment you put weight on your feet, searing pain shoots up your leg.

The ground rushes up to meet you, then stops when a pair of strong arms wrap around your middle.

As soon as their fingertips make contact, your head erupts in a pain like someone took an axe to it. There’s a ringing in your ears and you cry out.

Whoever’s holding you lets go and you hit the mud, writhing in agony.

“I— I’m so sorry!” T.V. manages through his groans of pain, hands clenched tightly to the sides of his head.

It feels like your skull is full of liquid metal. The cool water of the pond is tempting all of a sudden, kelpie and all.

Antigone presses a cool hand to your forehead and whispers something in a language you can’t understand.

Your head is still heavy, but the white hot pain ebbs.

She crawls over to Trouvaille to give him the same treatment. His agony seems to decrease faster than yours.

Through your delirium, you hear her snap at him, “That was unbelievably stupid!”

“I know,” he replies, rubbing his temples.

“You know? Mistakes like that can be fatal. Do not let your bleeding heart be the reason you both die.”

Carefully avoiding her eyes, he says, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t talk to him like that!” you protest through the pain.

“Shut up,” she snaps. “I don’t need one idiot defending another idiot.”

Jackie crosses her arms, “Very original with the insults.”

“I’m just calling them as they are. If they feel insulted, that’s on them.”

You clench your teeth, “He said he was sorry!”

“Sorry won’t bring back the dead,” she says directly at Trouvaille. Rounding on you, she says, “Let me take a look at that ankle.”

Your left ankle is inflamed and is taking on an angry red color. It must have happened when the kelpie hit you. The throbbing pain only grows as the adrenaline flushes from your veins.

She pokes an especially puffy part.

“Ow, fuck!” you cry out, hands grabbing onto your injured leg. “Why would you touch it!?”

“Punishment for being too slow to dodge the thing,” she deadpans.

“You think getting nearly drowned wasn’t enough punishment?”

“No.”

Thankfully, the poking ceases. A purple light emits from her clawed hand. She hovers over your ankle.

“Well, that is going to need a splint.” She retracts her hand.

“You can mend ribs but you can’t unsprain an ankle?” Jackie demands.

“For one thing, ‘unsprain’ is not a word. Second, normal treatment would take weeks. I can make it a few days. Any other grievances, hotshot?”

“Maybe if you were paying attention, oh powerful witch, you could have done something before it got this bad!” she shoots back.

The witch’s mercury eyes narrow. “You want to blame me for this?”

“I do. What are you gonna do about it?” Jackie takes a step forward.

“Don’t pick fights you can’t win, you little--” Antigone begins.

Dakota nudges her.

“We should head back.” They share a tense look, but she ultimately backs down. Then he turns to you, “Can I carry you?”

You nod in agreement. He places his hands under your knees and behind your back, careful not to jostle your ankle too much.

As he stands up, he takes on a comically cheerful tone. “Thank you flying Dakota Airlines! Please fasten your seatbelts and keep all electronics stored away until we reach cruising altitude.”

“Does this flight have snacks?” you jokingly ask.

“Check my pocket!”

You reach down into his kangaroo pouch and pull out a waterlogged 4 pak of Nutter Butters.

You raise an eyebrow. “You just carry these around?”

He shrugs. “I’m a growing boy.”

“You’re 25.”

“Okay? And?”

You chuckle. On the trek back to the car, you look over his shoulder to see sunlight glimmering off of caramel hair. Trouvaille strolls several feet behind you. He gives you a weak smile but makes no attempt to get any closer.

Reaching out for him, you beckon him closer. Not to touch, but you don’t like the wide berth he gives you.

He shakes his head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mouths.

‘Don’t be.’

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead of coming to you, he speeds up to catch up to Jackie.

The few seconds that he’s near when he passes by makes your hair stand on end. You almost reach out to stop him. You don’t. You can’t. Dakota readjusts you in his arms. After making sure everyone’s out of earshot he finds your gaze.

“Try not to be too mad at Annie. She just wants to keep all of us safe,” he says.

You briefly wondered if he swallowed too much pond water.

“You make it sound like she cares,” you grumble.

“She does. She really does. You know how if you don’t socialize dogs at a young age, they have trouble with other dogs later on? She’s like that.”

Raising an eyebrow, you reply, “Would she be mad at you comparing her to a dog?”

“Not if you don’t tell her.”

You chuckle and look ahead to see the three of them walking side by side. Trouvaille turn his head slightly. For a moment, you lock eyes before he pointedly turns back around. Your heart reaches out for someone who won’t reach back.

“Hey,” Dakota recaptures your attention. “Sometimes the people we care about decide for themselves that we’re better off without them. Those people are amazingly stubborn, but we love them anyway. Probably because we like pain, but whatever.” Up ahead, Jackie jokes around with T.V. while Antigone keeps her distance off to the side. “I just...” you sigh. “I don’t know what I think. I tell him I’m fine and I’m not afraid to get hurt, but he still pushes me away.” “I think that half of it is protecting himself. You may not be afraid of getting hurt, but he might be. Give him space, but let him know he can come to you.” “Easier said than done.”

Dakota shrugs. “Just know that these things take time. And patience. So much patience.” You glance back and forth between him and the group ahead.

“Why do you sound like you speak from experience?”

He grimaces, “If I said I don’t know what you’re taking about, would you believe me?”

“No.”

“Fair enough.”

Your gaze drifts between the trio in front of you.

“You can’t possibly--”

He cuts you off, “Wow, wouldya look at that! We’re at the car! Everyone please place your tray tables in the up position while we begin our descent!”

Trouvaille and Antigone are locked in a tense conversation. They stop to watch your approach until the witch mutters something and relinquishes her claim to the passenger seat. T.V. slides into the car without sparing you a glance.

#trouvaille #trouvaille game #ch:Trouvaille #ch:dakota #ch:Jackie #ch:antigone #snippet #some days you get snippets

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amintyworld · 3 years

Text

The Return - Dream SMP 12 Years AU

A/N: Hey guys! Welcome to another introduction to a AU idea I had with a lotta fluff and angst. May write more with this AU because I have a lot of ideas for it. Hope you enjoy and as always, if you have any questions about this AU at all, my ask box is always open, I'd love to talk about this.

By the way, for the enderman text I used this translator that my friend @griffintail uses in her work as well. It was really helpful and you guys should totally check out her work on her blog, she's awesome. - Minty

Summary: 12 years after the Bench Trio, Wilbur, Sam and Sapnap kill Dream for good and burn the revive book, the masked man returns on a plan for revenge.

TW: Blood/gore, kidnapping, torture, attempted murder, murder, implied character death, running away, denial, cursing, sympathetic dream? (He's a ghost). (Tell me if I need to tag anything else!) (Also, shippers get off my lawn please and thank you.)

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Michael’s eyes narrowed as someone, a stranger he couldn’t recognize slowly approached the house. That bright green hoodie and weird mask made his instincts flare, sensing danger. He jumped down, getting out his sword as he slowly walked to greet the intruder. His Dads and Uncle Technoblade trained him well enough that a plan was already forming in his head, going over the stock he had on him in his mind, prepared for whatever the stranger was planning to do.

A golden ax hung from the masked man’s back, a smile peeking out from under that smooth porcelain-like surface that the zombie piglin couldn’t tell if it was friendly or sinister. Finally, they were about five feet apart, facing each other. Michael pulled the cloak around him slightly more as a cold wind blew through the field. “Who are you? What are you doing on Snowchester Property?”

The man just stared at him, looking at him up and down.

“Answer me, dammit!”

“Michael, right?” The masked man walked toward him casually. “I don’t believe we’ve formally met.”

“Not another step!” Michael shouted, pointing his enchanted netherite sword threateningly at the stranger, who looked almost amused at this action, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “How do you know my name?!”

“Oh, your parents didn’t tell you? We’re family.”

“...family?”

“Not by blood, of course. I’m more like... a friend. A family friend. Your parents and I were very close back in the day, I just came by for a visit.”

“A visit…? If you’re so close with my parents how come you haven’t visited before?”

“You know how adventuring can be - it takes up a lot of time, you know.” The masked man smiled and made Michael’s gut churn uncomfortably. “I’ve heard so much about you, Michael.” The stranger kept walking towards the teenager, his hands up casually. “It’s been so long, we should really spend some time and catch up-”

“NO! No. Stay… stay right there. Don’t… don’t you dare fucking move, you got that?!” The man stopped around three feet away from him now. “Now you either tell me your name or I’m putting this blade through your teeth.”

The man sighed. “Pity. I was really hoping to get to talk with you peacefully, Michael. You seem like a nice kid.”

“What?”

Quickly and flawlessly, the masked intruder pulled out his ax and Michael quickly readied his sword, ready for a fight. What he didn’t expect was for the intruder to get some air and run up the wall of the mansion, landing down the blow with a lot more force than the zombie piglin expected, and he dug his hooves into the snow, somehow keeping himself from getting knocked over completely. Using all of his strength he pushed the intruder off, scrambling for a strength potion as the man tackled him to the ground. “Nuh-uh, that’s cheating.” Michael was quick to grab his sword and defend, moving to strike against his neck. The masked man moved to dodge, the black string of his mask getting nicked by Michael’s blade, making it begin to fall to start to reveal blonde hair and cold green eyes that were somewhat familiar to Michael, though he couldn’t figure out from where. As he hesitated, the man’s eyes flared with anger. Within seconds he’d pulled Michael’s arm against his back toward his shoulder blade, making the piglin feel like his arm was going to snap. He grunted in pain, reaching to grab his sword that got knocked into the snow when he felt the press of an ax against his neck, enough pressure to feel the sharpness of the blade. The zombie piglin could hear his heartbeat in his ears, swallowing his fear.

“I’m Dream, though I think you already know who I am.” Dream huffed against the piglin’s desperate struggle, the familiar adrenaline rushing through his veins from a victory. Of course, Michael knew the stories - his Dads and Uncle Tommy defeated that psychopath 12 years ago. They killed him, how the fuck was he alive?! The blade pressed harder against Michael’s neck as it began to draw a bit of blood. “Stop struggling.” Dream relished how much he’d missed all this, how much he’d missed being in control. “You and I are gonna have a little chat.”

----------------------------------------------

Ranboo hauled his basket of carrots and potatoes beside him as he reached down to grab some of the new harvests. A snowstorm was coming in soon, and they needed to stock up for the coming colder months. Their farms grew so big that a few of them set up shop in front of the old decommissioned prison, Pandora’s Box. Twelve years ago Ranboo, Tubbo, and Tommy had faced that prison head-on, fighting their old allies turned foes, death at nearly every turn they took. They succeeded with a little help, burying the body a little outside of the prison walls and never looking back. The three of them faced many more trials after that, growing close as years passed and the server became peaceful as it used to be back in the beginning. The children grew up, their parents giving them the world and more, protecting them from harm, and making sure they had better than their parents ever did. Now, throwing another bright orange carrot in his basket, Ranboo couldn’t help but smile across the way at his husband, teetering up the ladder in a straw sun hat, gathering honey from their bee farm. He’d gifted the ladder a few years prior - “A little short help for my shortie”. Tubbo threatened a villain arc at the note, making everyone around the table laugh as Ranboo walked over to embrace him, his chin resting on Tubbo’s head gently as the shorter had crossed his arms with a huff. Ranboo’s heart warmed at the fond memory.

He felt happy.

FoolishG whispered to you: Ranboo he’s back.

You whisper to FoolishG: What do you mean?

You whisper to FoolishG: Who?

FoolishG whispered to you: He’s going after you first.

FoolishG whispered to you: Is Michael with you?

You whisper to FoolishG: No.

You whisper to FoolishG: You didn’t answer my question, Foolish.

FoolishG whispered to you: Michael’s in danger, you need to get to him now.

FoolishG whispered to you: Dream’s alive, Ranboo.

You whisper to FoolishG: If this is some kind of joke this isn’t funny.

You whisper to FoolishG: This isn’t funny

You whisper to FoolishG: You know how he messed with me, stop it

You whisper to FoolishG: Don’t joke about that, Foolish.

You whisper to FoolishG: Foolish answer me

You whisper to FoolishG: Foolish?

Ranboo dropped his messenger in fear as the reality of the situation began to set in, his breaths beginning to panic. No, no no no no… they killed him. They killed him, they got rid of him for good. He’s supposed to be dead, he’s supposed to be gone-!

“Ranboo?” Tubbo looked over at him with concern as he packed up the jars of honey from their bee farm. Ranboo’s silence did not help his unease. “Ranboo, what’s wrong?”

FoolishG whispered to you: Hurry, Ranboo. I don’t know how long he’ll last.

Tubbo was kneeling in front of him now, grounding him with his hands on his husband’s shoulders. “Breathe. Breathe, Ranboo. Deep breaths, you’ve got it…”

As Ranboo tried in vain to even his breaths, he held Tubbo’s hand in fear. “Dream’s back... He’s...he… he’s alive and he has Michael.”

“What?” Tubbo’s eyebrows furrowed. “But… but we burned the revive book. We killed him, I saw his body-!”

“Michael… fuck, he has Michael…” Ranboo cursed on his breath. “This is all my fault, I should’ve known-!”

“No. None of that. You can’t blame yourself for this.” Tubbo dismissed, getting up and holding his hand out toward the enderman. “We’ve killed him before, we’ll just kill him again, right? We’ll save Michael and put a stop to this for good.” As Tubbo helped Ranboo back to his feet, he moved under a tree to place the purple glowing black box that greeted the two like an old friend. An enderchest. They hadn’t needed to use it for so long. They hadn’t needed what was inside. Tubbo pulled out a familiar enchanted sword that used to plague Ranboo’s dreams. His sword. The goat hybrid took off his straw hat and with one last glance placed it inside the enderchest, his eyes focused and thinking. He felt the new weight of the sword in his hand, getting used to the weapon again. “It’ll work this time. It has to.”

“It will.” Ranboo echoed.

Will it?

Tubbo’s eyebrows furrowed in thought, looking somber, numb. When they finally killed Dream they thought it would be the last time, the last war to fight. All three of them strived and hoped for peace, for all of it to be over, to get their own happy endings. He moved to the side, pulling out his communicator from his pocket. “Grab your stuff. I’ve got to warn Tommy.”

As Ranboo grabbed his own enchanted sword and his old armor from the chest, he couldn’t help but wonder, a single thought that nagged him and wouldn’t seem to leave his mind, making his stomach sink to the floor in dread…

...What if they never killed him in the first place?

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Phil closed his eyes as he sat in his chair, feeling something wrong, off in the air, something he couldn’t quite place. The room around him is silent but Phil can feel the world yelling for him, screaming for him. It’s trying to tell him something. Phil’s been alive for a long time. He’s seen the earth burst with new life, and slaughtered bodies fall to the floor, smelling nothing but the cold press of death. He’s seen it, heard it, felt it so many times it was a familiar, somewhat comforting feeling for him. It was calming, it was constant, it was natural.

So why did it…?

Phil’s eyes opened slowly, looking out the window in thought as Technoblade walked in from the snowstorm outside, a chill running through the cabin. The piglin dropped his bag of loot on the floor and began to shoulder off his snow gear to hang by the fire to dry. As Techno walked past him, moving in front of the fire to undo his braids, damp from the snow.

“Techno, something’s happening.”

“Heh?” The piglin’s ears perked up from the break in the somewhat comfortable silence they usually shared. “What… what do you mean?”

“Something’s wrong. It feels… unnatural.” Phil said, closing his eyes briefly again to focus on the feeling. “Did you see anything off while you were out?”

“Not really, the snow’s coming down so hard you can barely see a thing out there.” The piglin shrugged, the concern on his friend’s face only making a pit form in his stomach he tried to ignore. “...what’s wrong?”

“Something’s moving… breathing… it shouldn’t be.”

“Zombies, maybe?” Techno suggested. “I did see a few while I was out.”

“Maybe.” Phil agreed. “Part of me feels like something’s off, something dangerous. Like when you… you were almost…” Phil sighed. “I guess I’m just worrying over nothing again.”

“I wouldn’t say nothing - you have good instincts, Phil.”

“Battle instincts. Instincts I don’t need anymore. And here I thought you’d have a harder time adjusting to all this.” Phil scoffed.

“A lot’s been changing. With everything that happened, I don’t blame you for being a little tense, Phil. I am too.” Technoblade admitted. “Just to be safe, we can double-check when the storm passes, that way we won’t get any interference with the communicators.”

“I’d like that.” Phil smiled, moving to sit next to his friend by the fireplace. “Thanks, Techno.”

Technoblade scoffed, his mouth breaking into a smile. “Hey, don’t mention it.” The piglin ran his hands through his hair, going through a few knots before grabbing a brush. Taking a deep breath to calm the knots in his stomach, Phil moved to set the kettle on the furnace, grabbing a match to light it.

Miles away from the icy tundra, Foolish walked through the Temple of the Undying, a small teenager in their arms. He was silent as he marched, tears going down his cheeks full of emotion the god held back. His arm gently cradled the child’s head close to his chest. His heart weighed heavy with guilt, words and memories echoing in his mind of failure, of how he failed his son.

Foolish could feel presences, he could feel others watching from the shadows and corners. Every single statue and totem memorial against the wall seemed to have their gazes fixed on him as if waiting for what the god would do next. For once, Foolish didn’t know what to do.

He hadn’t even told anyone the news yet. How could he? His son was dead and it was all his fault. All because he wasn’t careful. Dream was back, he was standing there next to his son and for once he couldn’t control his anger, his panic. He tried to strike him down, but…

He still remembered every detail, how Dream had just… smiled. He wasn’t afraid. He was staring down a god, and he wasn’t afraid. Somehow, he was always one step ahead.

Lightening still sparked and clung to Foolish Jr.’s body. Foolish couldn’t help but think about how much pain he must’ve been in, how much pain he must’ve put him through. He fell to his knees in the center of the temple, gently laying his son on the floor, the beacon lighting him in a bright glow. His hands shaking, Foolish brushed a bit of hair out of Junior’s eyes, bowing his head toward the ground.

“I’m sorry…” His soft whispers echoed through the temple. “I’m so so sorry, Ra forgive me for what I’ve done…” Tears dripped down to the floor. “My little totemling…” Foolish’s eyes snapped toward the walls as the totem statue’s eyes began to softly glow, bathing the two in green light. The totem god’s eyes still wet with tears as he looked into the green eyes, a silent question on his mind. Whispers filled his ears that he couldn’t quite decipher. Suddenly, he felt it.

A pinprick in the middle of his chest, expanding throughout his body, the pain pulsing like a heartbeat. His breath hitched as drowsiness overtook him, making him feel dizzy. An essence was being slowly pulled from his body, glowing like some kind of enchantment on a weapon. Sweat built on Foolish’s brow as he struggled to keep his breaths even. Then… a stinging slice across his middle left him in a silent scream. His hand slowly reached up toward his chest, his eyes widening when he found it covered in crimson. The pain was overwhelming - it felt as if his body was torn apart and stitched back together in a matter of seconds. He scrambled to grab a health potion, downing it all and wincing at the terrible aftertaste but thankfully finally getting some relief. His eyes focused on the essence as it hung up into the air above the two, and slowly was lowered, expanding around Foolish Junior’s body.

As the green light faded, Foolish heard faint chanting, looking around for where it was coming from, trying desperately to piece together what was happening. Before Foolish had time to figure out exactly what the chanting was saying, the body shooting upwards from the ground, gasping for breath quickly grabbed his attention.

----------------------------------------------------

Michael didn’t know how long it was. How many hours had passed since he’d been tied to the chair? He didn’t even know if it was night or day. He sat in the middle of his parent’s bedroom, feet and hands tied expertly - he was completely and utterly trapped. With every time he struggled and strained against the bonds they cut against his skin and irritated it enough to make them bleed, almost training the piglin to try to stay as still as possible, to avoid any pain.

Dream stalked around the bedroom like a thief, searching through the closet and drawers for something or other. He’d pick up a potion, a diamond, even an ingot or two, holding them up toward the light as if to inspect them before dropping them in his bag. His gaze fell upon a picture of the family from their beach vacation a few years ago - Ranboo fell asleep with a seagull perched on his stomach. Michael remembered how much he and his father had tried to hold back their laughter enough for a selfie, only for Ranboo to wake up and scare the seagull away halfway through taking the picture. They looked so happy together.

Dream seemed unfazed by the photo, almost studying it in a sense. The gaze seemed oddly calculated, making the teen feel uneasy.

“Michael you’re a good kid, you know.” Michael’s glare bore into Dream’s mask as sticky drips of crimson spilled over his hands. “You always want to do the right thing, want to protect everyone. You shouldn’t have to be the one to fight your parent’s battles, should you?”

Michael remained silent.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Michael. I really don’t. Despite what your parents might have told you, I’m not a monster. It brings me no satisfaction to bring you pain. After all, you’ve done nothing to me.”

“So?”

“So I’m giving you some free advice - take the easy way out, for both of us. All you need to do is tell me where that armor is hidden, and I’ll let you go.”

“Bullshit.” Michael spat. “I know that’s not what you want, my parents told me more than that you’re just some scary monster. You’re a power hungry lunatic.”

A smile spread across Dream’s face at Michael’s words. “A lunatic, huh?”

“You manipulated Uncle Wilbur, you tortured Uncle Tommy… you betrayed my father all because you want power! You want control over people, freeing me would have you lose the only shred of control you have left on this server, so why would you?”

“You’re a smart kid, you know that?” Dream said casually, rolling up his sleeves. “So smart…” He reached into his bag, grabbing a pair of shears that looked worn. There were initials on the leather cover that Michael couldn’t strain his eyes to see. Dream uncovered the shears, walking over toward the piglin and resting an arm on the teenager’s right side, trapping him.

Something churned in the piglin’s stomach. “What… what are you…?”

“Tell me, smart kid, do you know what it feels like to die? To feel nothing but neverending agony? To choke on your own blood as you beg for relief and warmth only to find yourself becoming colder and colder, not being able to move or even scream?”

Michael couldn’t help the fear that traveled up his spine. “I…I-”

“I wonder… would you like to find out?” The sharp end of the scissors was quickly set near the bottom of the piglin’s neck. It freaked Michael out - how calm Dream was about it all, how serious he sounded. Was he really going to kill him? The question sent his mind racing, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he felt like a trapped sheep in a wolf’s grasp. He wanted to run but he couldn’t.

“I...I just-”

“Do you know what canon lives are, Michael?” Dream asked smoothly, as if he was telling the teenager about the terrible weather. The words seemed familiar to the piglin but for some reason he was so stressed it was hard to remember anything specific. His parents never really talked about it much and usually tried to avoid the topic.

Michael thickly swallowed, acutely aware of the sharp blade against his skin. “No… no I don’t think-”

Of all the things he expected to happen in his situation, he certainly didn’t expect for the masked man to go into a small laughing fit over his answer. Michael struggled to find what exactly was funny, and a small pit of rage began to boil in his stomach, temporarily distracting the zombie piglin from the fear that the green blob seemed to pull out of him. So what if he didn’t know what those are?! Why does he care?! “Oh, I knew they couldn’t have told you everything…”

“What… what do you mean?”

“You see Michael, when someone dies they use up a canon life and respawn, until… well… they can’t anymore. Everyone has three, but a few have been used up over the years, at least when I was around.” Michael could see the beginnings of a smirk poke out from underneath Dream’s mask. “You’ve never respawned, have you?! All three lives, no deaths… oh, this could be fun…”

What… what the fuck was he suggesting?!

“Your choice - Tell me where the armor is now, or I’m going to kill you.”

The zombie piglin nervously looked around for any kind of out, something to stall. He couldn’t give up the location - Dad told him explicitly that he couldn’t reveal the location to anyone, no matter the circumstances.

Tubbo held Michael’s hands firmly in his own. “It’s evil, Michael. It used to belong to a very bad person, and he hurt a lot of people. We have to contain that evil here, for everyone’s sake. If this got into the wrong hands…” His father trailed off, not bothering to finish.

“I promise, Dad. I won’t let you down.”

Tubbo looked up at his son proudly, moving to cup his cheek with his hand fondly. “I know you won’t. You’re old enough and you’ve trained enough, you’ve earned my trust.”

He couldn’t let his father down, but…

“Five… four… three…” Dream huffed, getting impatient.

“You… you can’t just-!”

“Wrong answer.”

Michael’s memory was fuzzy after that - maybe it was because of the pain, or maybe it because he didn’t want to remember. He remembered… he remembered how his body trembled as Dream swiftly stabbed him in the chest with the shears, he remembered the tears going down his face as Dream tried to wedge the weapon deeper in the wound. And the pain… the pain was indescribable. Of course Michael had gotten hurt before - but arrows and zombie bites and broken bones could never compare to this, not by a long shot. Words left his lips so freely that he forgot exactly what he said, but when Dream twisted the scissors he whimpered.

He was mad at himself for crying and losing himself in front of his tormentor - he was giving him exactly what he wanted! Why did he just cry so easily?! Why was he being so… so weak?! He didn’t know exactly how or when the chair he was tied to flipped over, but he did remember shouting that seemed distant. He hit his head when he fell, adding to the throbbing dizziness in his skull. The pain hurt so much he wanted it to stop, please just let it stop...

He hadn’t even noticed the masked green blob left the room until a pair of dark purple eyes stared at him from the doorway. He felt himself tremble as the figure moved closer, and Michael squeezed his eyes shut, not willing to watch whatever that thing wanted to do to him next. After a tense moment of silence the piglin felt arms wrapped around him, pulling him close and his body relaxed into the touch, the familiar hum radiating throughout the stranger’s chest that always helped calm him. A hand reached up to scratch at his ears fondly, and Michael worked up the courage to open his eyes.

Two purple glowing eyes looked down at him, smiling and purring. The hair, the clothes… “Dad…?” Michael weakly croaked. The purple-eyed Ranboo smiled at him as he fondly patted his head. A loud noise erupted from his mouth, making Michael tense up in fear.

“⏚⏃⏚⊬.”

Upon seeing Michael’s distress, purple-eyed Ranboo quickly went back to sending calming purrs, holding his son’s head in his hands. Michael was so confused - what was that noise? More importantly, was his Dad okay? Ranboo’s hands drifted above the zombie piglin’s chest wound, a slight noise of discomfort coming from the back of his throat. He grit his teeth through the pain as he struggled to speak. “Dad, look, you… you gotta listen - Dream’s here, he’s gonna be back any second…”

The Ranboo-not-Ranboo’s head whipped toward the doorway at a loud crash, his grip increasing on the teenager slightly. Had his Dad even heard him? More strange noise erupted from his mouth, only increasing Michael’s concern. What was going on?

“⎅⏃⋏☌⟒⍀.”

Before Michael could ask what exactly that meant, with a ‘vwoop’ the purple-eyed Ranboo disappeared. Though Michael missed the warm comfort for his pulsing pain, part of him was glad. That means his Dad must’ve heard him, he was gonna warn the others and Dream wouldn’t hurt him, that was all that mattered. The other part felt like he was six years old again trapped in his own personal nightmare, begging for his father to come back and save him and hold him and tell him everything was going to be alright. Static began to fill his ears as a slow deep sleepiness began to take over. Tears pricked at the edges of Michael’s eyes, the pulsing, burning pain becoming too much.

Just let me rest...

The door slammed open. A scream echoed.

“MICHAEL!”

-------------------------------------

Foolish had never seen his son so scared in his entire life. He shot up, grasping for some kind of lifeline, and Foolish didn’t hesitate to pull him close. “Dad…”

“Shh, it’s okay little totemling. Dad’s right here.” His heart felt full as he hugged his son tightly, afraid that if he let go it would all just be a dream. His son, his son was alive and breathing, his son was right here in his arms, he was okay, it was all okay-! Wet tears slipped down his face before he had the time to notice them. The totem god’s gaze shifted up towards the totem statue. The statue glared down at him, expressionless, as if nothing else needed to be said.

Thank you. Thank you so much.

“There was… there were shadows everywhere,” Junior sobbed. “It was cold and so, so scary and I didn’t know where you were, and-!”

“I’m right here, Foolish. I’m right here. It…” Foolish hesitated. How could he explain this to him? How could he tell his son that he failed him? How could he face his son and tell him the truth, that his own father had killed him? Maybe some things were better left unsaid, some truths untold. Foolish couldn’t tell you whether he avoided it to spare his son’s emotions or his own, simply that he found that he just couldn’t. “It was all just a bad dream, don’t worry. I was just waiting for you to respawn.”

Maybe he was a coward. Maybe he’d tell him the truth later, but he couldn’t face it right now. He just couldn’t. Either way, what did it matter? He got a second chance, and this time he wasn’t going to mess up. Not again.

“Wait, where’s Dream?”

Foolish couldn’t help but tense hearing those words. “...What?”

“Where’s Dream? He just came back, I can’t leave him. He’s probably somewhere scared and alone, he probably thinks I died! I’m his only friend, I gotta-!” Junior shifted, moving to get out of his father’s grip.

“Foolish. Foolish, no.” The totem god said firmly. “Dream’s dangerous. He’s done horrible things, he’s hurt so many people back when he was alive, and I won’t have you be next.” Not again.

“But… but it’s been so long, maybe he’s changed! Maybe…”

“Foolish.”

“When Wilbur came back he changed, he became a good guy again! Dream’s been dead longer than him, he’s my friend he can’t… he’s not…”

“Dream used you against me when you stepped in front to protect him. Maybe his ghost was different, but… but he’s not a ghost anymore.”

Junior pulled away from his father’s embrace. “No, no that’s not true! You were the first one to attack him, he was just standing there, Dad! He just came back, he hadn’t done anything wrong, you assumed he did. You attacked for no reason.”

“Foolish you don’t understand, the things Dream’s done-”

“He’s been dead for 12 years, Dad! 12 years, and you don’t think he’s changed?! I thought you always believed in second chances, that everyone deserves a chance to do the right thing.” Junior stated. “You didn’t even give him a chance.”

“He’s killed countless people in cold blood-”

“Haven’t you?!”

Foolish’s face fell as he looked over his hands. Static filled his ears as his mind remembered every single detail, and for a moment he swore he could feel the warm, thick blood coating his hands. No, no no no… not now… He quickly clenched his hands tightly into fists, closing his eyes, trying to block it out before it flooded back, before…

He felt arms around his neck, a warm embrace. “It’s okay, it’s okay… I’m so sorry, I’m sorry-!”

As the feeling slowly faded, he opened his eyes, finding his son’s face red and puffy from crying. He mustered a small smile, both their anger long forgotten. “Hey, hey it’s okay… I told you I’m not going anywhere, right?”

“You were… you were turning into the… I’m so sorry…” Junior’s voice was soft and quiet.

“You don’t need to be, it’s not your fault…” Foolish reassured. “You’re right. You’re right, I’ve… I’ve done horrible things too. I just don’t want him to hurt you. I want to protect you, you know that right?”

“I know.”

Junior yawned, and Foolish smiled warmly.

“Come, my little totemling. You look tired.” Foolish said, scooping up the young teenager in his arms and walking toward his son’s room. Junior tiredly smiled.

“I love you, Dad.”

Foolish leaned down and gave his son a small forehead kiss. “I love you too, Foolish. No matter what.”

------------------------------------------

“Shit, shit shit shit shit…” Tubbo mumbled, his hands shaking as he rushed over to his son, noticing the large gash in his chest. He fumbled for his bag, desperately trying to find a potion of harming.

Regen, healing, strength, swiftness…

“Fuck.” Tubbo cursed under his breath, throwing aside his satchel and rushing over toward the drawers, pulling them open, throwing things to the ground in reckless abandon. What happened to the potions?! They always had extra, then extra for the extra! He and Ranboo were always prepared, they knew how hard harming potions were to make, so where was it?!

A loud crash ripped through the halls as Enderwalk Ranboo crashed through the wooden wall of the room, wooden splinters flying everywhere. Enderwalk huffed as he staggered trying to get to his feet, letting out a loud hiss as Dream walked through the new hole in the wall, his sword out, red staining his green hoodie. He looked over the scene, catching his breath.

“Oh, you guys wanted to pull one over on me, huh?! Throw the enderman freak on me, grab Michael and leave?”

Tubbo moved to be closer to Michael, pulling out his own sword protectively as Enderwalk moved in front of both, ignoring his own slashes and blood dripping to the floor. Enderwalk Ranboo screeched, almost daring the masked man to come toward his family. Tubbo’s gaze was focused on Dream, looking him over. “Yeah, something like that. Great plan, isn’t it?”

“Actually,” Dream let out a small cough, smirking. “Actually it’s pretty stupid.”

“I’d disagree, since we have Michael, and from the looks of it, you don’t have your precious armor.”

“Oh Tubbo, all these years and you’ve learned nothing… I always have other plans.”

Tubbo’s eyes narrowed. “What do you-?”

“Looking for this?” Dream smiled, holding up a glimmering potion of harming. Enderwalk was ready to pounce, looking over at Tubbo who stood up, sword raised. “Nuh-uh-uh. Try to take it from me and I’ll smash it on the floor. All of them.” Dream moved to open the flap of his bag slightly to reveal more potions of harming. Tubbo’s face fell - all the extras, everything…

Enderwalk looked back at Tubbo, head tilted in confusion as Tubbo signaled for him to stand down. Tubbo took a deep breath - he hated this. He hated that once again, he hadn’t thought everything through, he hated that once again he failed, and most of all he hated that fact that as of this moment, his son’s life was in that green psycho's hands. Enderwalk turned to hold Michael close once again, nuzzling him and getting worried and sad when he didn’t respond. “What do you want for it?”

“You know what I want.” Dream said coldly. “I’d hurry if I were you, or it’ll be Michael’s first cannon life.”

Tubbo promised himself he wouldn’t ever subject his son to that kind of pain, that he’d protect him no matter what. He let out a defeated sigh. “Second portrait on the left in the entryway. It’s behind the painting.” Tubbo held out his hand. “Now give me the potion.”

“Tubbo, Tubbo, Tubbo… never change. Once an idiot, always an idiot, isn’t it?” Dream tossed the potion bottle over, which Tubbo quickly caught as the masked man turned and walked out of the room. Tubbo quickly rushed over toward his son, putting the potion bottle to his lips. They didn’t have much time.

Of course, it wouldn’t heal much, but it certainly was better than nothing. He looked over toward Enderwalk, gears turning in his head trying to make sure he spoke clearly enough to be understood. “⟒⋏⎅⟒⍀, ☌⟒⏁ ⏚⏃⋏⎅⏃☌⟒⌇.”

Enderwalk nodded, rushing over toward the drawers, grabbing some bandages and handing them over to Tubbo, who set down the empty potion bottle. Enderwalk looked down at Michael as Tubbo worked, focused. “⏚⏃⏚⊬ ⏃⌇⌰⟒⟒⌿. ⏚⏃⏚⊬ ⍜☍⏃⊬?”

“⌿⏃⟟⋏ ⊑⎍⍀⏁ ⏁⍜⍜ ⋔⎍☊⊑. ⌿⍜⏁⟟⍜⋏ ⊑⟒⌰⌿⟒⎅.”

Enderwalk reached to scratch and pat behind Michael’s ears. Tubbo tightened the bandages as Michael stirred. “...Dad…?”

“Michael, thank gods you’re alright!” Tubbo moved to hug his son, Enderwalk joining in, purring happily at the reunion.

“What… what happened? Where’s Dream?”

No time. “Busy. Michael, can you move..?”

Michael shifted to sit, feeling sore, tired. Small pulses of pain still wracked his body that he ignored. He moved his leg slightly, testing the waters. “I… I think so…?”

“Good. Okay.” Tubbo got up, holding out his hand and helping his son stand on shaky hooves. “I need you to run. Run toward Uncle Tommy’s.”

“Wait, what? N-no, I’m not leaving you!”

“This isn’t a choice, Michael. You have to go. Now. Before he comes back.”

“But-”

Tubbo’s hands gently squeezed his son’s. “No matter what you hear or what happens, don’t stop. Don’t stop until you’re at Uncle Tommy’s and you’re safe, okay?”

“But what about you and Dad? What about Dream?”

“Don’t worry, we’ve held our own this long. We’ll meet you at Uncle Tommy’s soon, but you have to get there and get safe, okay? Don’t look back, just get there. You can do that for me, right?” Tubbo’s forehead gently bonked Michael’s. “Remember the time we got caught in the forest just as the sun was coming down?”

“Yeah. I was so scared I couldn’t move. It was my first time out at night.”

“Remember, I took your hand like this…” Tubbo slowly rubbed circles into the back of Michael’s palm. “And told you that you didn’t have to be scared, that I was gonna be right there with you. All the scary monsters, you didn’t need to be afraid because as long as you kept running, nothing could get you.”

“Dad, I don’t know if I-”

“Yes you can. I know you can, Michael. Run as fast as your hooves can carry you, I know you can do it. I know you can be brave.” Tubbo encouraged. “Get there, your father and I will be right behind you. I promise.”

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, Michael.”

“⏚⏃⏚⊬ ⍜☍⏃⊬! ⍙⊑⊬ ⏚⏃⏚⊬ ⌇⏃⎅?”

Enderwalk nuzzled with Michael as a few tears spilled down the piglin’s cheeks, and he laughed, smiling. “I love you too, Dad!”

Quickly, giving his parents one last look, Michael dashed into the hallway, heading toward the balcony and jumping down into the courtyard, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he ran through the trees toward the icy tundra. Tubbo wiped away his tears as he looked over toward his purple-eyed husband.

“⏚⏃⏚⊬...?”

Tubbo cupped Enderwalk’s cheek as the enderman snuggled into the embrace. “⋔⟟☊⊑⏃⟒⌰ ⋏⍜⏁ ⌇⏃⎎⟒ ⊑⟒⍀⟒. ☌⍜⟟⋏☌ ⏁⍜ ⌇⏃⎎⟒ ⌿⌰⏃☊⟒.”

Enderwalk looked into Tubbo’s eyes and nodded in understanding. He moved to hold Tubbo’s face in his hands as Tubbo stilled, confused for a moment before Enderwalk pulled him down to the floor in a tight hug. Surprised at first, Tubbo returned the gesture. A loud crash erupted from below the two, followed by loud angry yells that sent shivers up Enderwalk’s spine and made him tense up.

“WHERE IS IT?!”

------------------------------------------------

“The flowers are really pretty today.” Ghostie smiled as he kneeled down in the daisy flower field, callused and rough hands moving to gently caress a flower.

“Yeah, spring’s coming.” Junior smiled, sitting down next to his friend.

“Spring…?”

“You… wait a minute, you’ve never seen spring before?!”

The ghost considered his friend's words for a moment, searching his own memory. “No, I… I don’t think I remember spring.” He smiled excitedly, a childlike curiosity in his eyes. “What’s it like?”

Junior settled down next to his friend, moving to pluck a flower. “Well, it’s warm, like… like hot chocolate, and flowers come back… it’s like the entire world comes alive again.” As Junior spoke, Ghostie pushed his green hood back and looked up towards the bright blue sky, noticing a small butterfly float past. His heart felt light, it was perfectly warm and bright, and something about everything around him made a smile appear on his face. “It’s perfect.”

“Oh, by the way, I’ve got something for you.” Foolish Junior smiled, reaching into his bag and pulling out a small piece of different colors of braided thread - a lime green and two different shades of blue with a small white shell at the bottom. He held it out to Ghostie. “Now we’re officially best friends!”

“What is it…?” Ghostie asked, staring down at the foreign object laid in his palm.

“It’s a friendship bracelet!” Junior beamed, pulling out a similar yellow with the same two shades of blue. When his ghost friend didn’t respond or understand when he pointed it out, just staring up at him confused, he moved to explain. “You wear it on your wrist to show that we’re friends. See? It matches mine.” The twelve year old held up his own bracelet to show his ghost friend.

“Were… were we not friends before…?”

“Of course we were, Ghostie!” Foolish Junior exclaimed. “You’re my best ghost friend in the world, after all.” He reassured his friend. “I just wanted to make it for you because I thought you’d like it. Tubbo was telling me this story the other day about these special compasses, and… and I wanted to make sure that even if we’re not always together, we’ll still have a part of each other, you know?”

“It’s pretty. Like the flowers.” Ghostie smiled. “I love it.”

“Here, let me show you how to put it on…”

Foolish Junior heard talking just beyond his room as he packed, hearing his Uncle Eret downstairs. For a second, his mind wandered to what they could possibly be talking about. After all, it was just a simple respawn. He wasn’t that hurt, Ghostie got brought back… everything was perfect! Everything was supposed to be absolutely perfect.

So why wasn’t it? The whispers and hushed tones, the way his father looked at him, clung to him in a vice grip… it wasn’t right. He wasn’t right. He knew his father wasn’t right about Ghostie, or… or was he Dream now…? Dream. It didn’t sound right, it didn’t fit him as well as ‘Ghostie’ did. The name felt so foreign on his tongue. But, if that’s what his friend wanted…

The teenager stilled as his gaze settled on the abandoned green and blue friendship bracelet left on his nightstand. He remembered how Ghostie held it with the utmost care when he handed it to him to take - “Make sure to give it back once the ritual’s all done. I don’t wanna get it dirty.” Junior remembered so clearly how Ghostie looked at him when he wasn’t transparent anymore.he called out for him with a smile, and his best friend simply turned around without saying a single word, looking around the forest.

After a moment of hesitation, he slid on Ghostie’s bracelet next to his own. He’ll give it back, he’ll reunite with Ghostie and introduce him to everyone and they’d understand. Then, they’d finally get to go swimming together like they always wanted to. They’d be together again.

All he had to do was find him.

You whisper to Dream: Meet me by the flower field tonight once the sun goes down. Be safe. We’ve gotta talk.

---------------------------------------------

As his husband held his head in agony, Tubbo was quick to steady him, resting his head against his shoulder. He gently held him, adapting as he shifted every now and then. Worried thoughts filled Tubbo's head as he couldn’t help but think of the worst - it had after all been years since Ranboo had forced himself to go into that state. He was the one who pushed him, all for his plan, his 'big' plan. Eventually, Tubbo found the voice to speak. “You there, Boo?”

“I... forgot how dizzying it is…” Ranboo let out a pained chuckle against his husband’s shoulder. “How’d I do?”

“Amazing,” Tubbo smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. A few tears slid down his cheeks as he softly laughed. “Absolutely amazing.”

“Michael okay?”

“Dream roughed him up a little badly,” Tubbo sniffed, moving his hand up to wipe away his tears. “I patched him up, gave him a potion and sent him on his way toward Tommy’s.”

“That’s good.” Ranboo moved to sit up fully, holding Tubbo’s hand in his to comfort him. His smile never left his face. “So, what’s the plan now?”

“Well, Dream always told us what would happen if we crossed him.” Tubbo looked up at Ranboo. “Do you wanna come with me and find out?”

The enderman smirked playfully. “Aw, don’t tell me you tricked the poor thing…?”

“I do learn from the best.” Tubbo smiled. The door slammed open once more to reveal a very angry and pissed off Dream. Slowly, he walked over toward the couple, a golden axe drawn.

“Tubbo.” He growled.

"Dream." Tubbo smiled. "Did you find the armor?" A pair of netherite boots fell to the floor with a 'clang', the noise like thunder in the silent tense room.

“Where’s the rest of it?!”

“What, don't you like the boots?”

Dream pounced, tackling Tubbo to the ground and slowly pushing the axe blade up toward Tubbo’s neck. “Start talking you little shit.”

“Did you honestly think we’d hide all your precious armor and weapons in one spot?! Do you think after twelve years we’d still be that stupid?!” With Tubbo’s words, Dream looked like he was slapped, anger only building and rising the more he thought it over, the more he realized his mistake.

A mistake. He didn't make mistakes.

“We’ve buried them and hid the locations all around the SMP, just in case someone like you ever showed up again and tried to take us down.�� Tubbo explained. “Good luck on finding the others, going through everyone on the SMP, digging through all that dirt… not to mention that as we speak Michael’s running to warn the others about you.” Tubbo’s eyes narrowed. “You’re trapped.”

He didn't make mistakes. He didn't get trapped. He was always smarter, always faster, always in control. Why wasn't he in control?!

“Checkmate, Dream.” Tubbo spat.

The words sparked a flame within Dream’s stomach, igniting his anger and destructive spirit. Choked breathing filled the room as Dream wrapped his hands around Tubbo’s throat and squeezed. How dare he… HOW DARE HE TRICK HIM?! He saw red as he slammed Tubbo’s head back down against the wooden floor, staining it crimson. Ranboo yelled and screamed in the background until Tubbo was still as a stone, unconscious.

“Get away from him!” Ranboo yelled, grabbing his sword and moving to strike. A quick slash of Dream’s yellow axe sent him to the floor as well. Struggling to keep awake, Ranboo crawled, each movement feeling like fire as it combined with his older injuries, his blood dripping to the floor. Dream watched Ranboo a moment, relishing in his struggle, the blood bringing him a deep satisfaction. Slowly, ever so slowly, he begins to walk over toward the enderman, his golden axe dripping with blood.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you guys to be so sharp after all these years… but you’re still making the same mistakes.” Dream said with an oddly calm and cold tone. “You three always underestimate me. You underestimated me then, and you’re still doing it now to make yourselves feel better, to feel like you’ve won. But you haven’t.” Dream kneeled down in front of the enderman, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling his face to look at his. “I’m going to win eventually. After all, I waited a hundred and forty-four years to get out of that hell hole you three put me in. If you think a small slip up is all it takes to stop me and the plans I have…" The last thing that rang in Ranboo's head before he passed out was Dream's crazed laughter.

------------------------------------------

General Writing Taglist (Tell me if you'd like to be added or removed):

@bonesposts

(Also, I believe @yellowhearthero wanted some protective enderboo, so here you go! :D)

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plus-size-reader · 4 years

Text

Consequences

Ivar the Boneless x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1844 words

Warnings: murder? Ivar/Sigurd dynamic

Summary: Sigurd talking badly about you, knowing its the one thing that really gets to Ivar, and having to deal with the consequences.

——————————————————————————————————

It was no secret that Sigurd liked to get a rise out of his youngest brother. Anything he could do to upset Ivar he would do without a second thought, and you all knew it.

However, more and more Sigurd was finding Ivar less willing to fall into his cheap attempts at upsetting him.

...So, he decided to evolve his technique.

More than anything else in the world, Ivar cared for you. In all his life, he had never found himself more drawn to another person and his love for you knew no bounds.

There was nothing he wouldn’t do for you and to Sigurd, that made you the perfect target for his attacks.

He knew no hatred for you personally, but the best way to upset Ivar would be by using you, so he was going to just have to get cruel. His monster of a brother deserved it, maybe if even you didn’t.

Sigurd had been so miserable at the hands of his brother for so long, that it was only right he administered some of his own consequences upon him.

He just had to find the best time to make this all work, and he found it in the form of a feast, thrown outside to celebrate the changing of seasons. The flowers were in full bloom and you never passed it up.

After all, you insisted on a feast like this one every year and not one of Ragnar’s sons was going to argue with you.

Instead, they each took their seat at the table and waited for you to sit among them, ready for whatever courses you’d set on having the thralls make. You always took this very seriously, and they couldn’t fault you for it.

It didn’t hurt that Ivar had threatened each and every one of them with countless nights of torture if that smile was forced from your face.

This didn’t matter to them, but it certainly did to you and if anything ruined that, they would surely never hear the end of it.

“The lamb should be out in a few seconds boys, for now we have plenty of ale” you grinned, sitting down at the table beside Ivar, holding your own horn filled to the brim with golden liquid.

As best you could tell, there was nothing going on. However, that changed rather quickly as soon as Sigurd opened his mouth. He saw a window to jab at his brother through and he was going to take it.

...And without missing a beat, he did.

“It’s no surprise at all that you had something as decadent as a lamb prepared, I suppose” he started, leaning across the table toward where you were sitting, his eyes fully focused on you.

You had no idea what he was doing, but you didn’t care.

You were having too good a time to let Sigurd bring you down, not to mention what a waste it would be to let his foul mood ruin the excellent weather.

Not that your shrugging him off the first time was enough to put a stop to his coming attack. You were a very easy target for Sigurd’s torment, and there was nothing he could do about it.

It wasn’t clever or anything, and certainly not his finest moment, but Sigurd didn’t care. He was angry at his brother, and nothing else was as important as getting back at him.

Especially not right now.

“Come on, tell us all...how much of that young lamb are you planning on eating? I wouldn’t be surprised if it was all gone as soon as they set the tray in front of you” he continued, spewing poorly worded insults your way which you again ignored.

Though, Ivar wasn’t nearly as inclined to allow Sigurd a pass. He could be as cruel as he wanted to anyone other than you.

As far as you were concerned, he should have known better than to open his mouth.

“Watch your mouth brother” Ivar started, his jaw tight and his fist clenched as he watched him. Sigurd had quite a lot going on in his head right now but he wasn’t afraid of what Ivar would do.

In fact, he was looking forward to seeing how you would react if he kept pushing all those buttons.

You sighed, reaching out to take his hand in your own, trying your hardest to calm him before something bad happened. You knew that his temper could be a little uncontrollable but if you could do anything to make it better, you had to.

“I’ve had enough food prepared for each of you Sigurd, don’t worry about that” you assured, breathing deep to keep your composure. You didn’t care about his weak insults, not really.

Perhaps they stung a little, but you were not children playing in the street anymore. Each of you was an adult, and if Sigurd had a problem with the way you looked, he could deal with that himself.

You didn’t have to concern yourself with his opinions.

...But Ivar didn’t have that luxury.

As soon as his spiteful brother opened his mouth, he had started something there was no end to and he had to be taught a lesson. For making you question yourself, Ivar was going to punish him.

“I have no doubt that’s true, I just hope they don’t have to loosen the seams of that dress too much” Sigurd finally chided, giving one last blow before deciding he’d done enough damage for the day.

By the time he’d finished that sentence, Ivar was practically vibrating with rage and it couldn’t have been better for Sigurd. This was what he wanted all along, after all.

He wanted to get a rise out of his brother, and a rise he had gotten for sure.

“Shut your mouth!” Ivar yelled now, seeing red as he looked upon his brother. How dare he say those things about you? After all the hard work you’d gone through to have this entire feast set up.

You didn’t even have to include Sigurd and you’d done it anyway.

Understandably, there was a moment or two of silence as each of you in turn tried to decide what to do. You had no idea what had gotten into Sigurd as of late, but you had no words.

You had been nothing but kind to him and out of nowhere, he was being completely cruel, seemingly for no reason.

“I was just making an observation” Sigurd shrugged casually, knowing that the more nonchalant he was, the more difficult it would be for Ivar to keep his cool.

...And he was right.

Before any of you knew what was happening, Ivar had thrown his axe across the table, causing it to land square in Sigurd’s chest. You had no idea what to do, or how to react.

After all, it all happened so fast and as Ubbe and Hvitserk rushed to where he was now laying on the deck, you could only sit with wide eyes, waiting for someone to address you.

Had that been your fault? You had tried so hard to keep your calm and not cause problems but Ivar had been angry anyway. So angry, in fact, that he had likely just killed his own brother.

He killed Sigurd.

The events after had gone just as fast as to be expected, but you didn’t have a chance to clear your head until you were in your room, much later in the night.

Your feast had been ruined.

The day had been ruined.

...And Sigurd was dead.

That left you, sitting in your bedroom, having to wonder if you had made this happen. Was there anything you could have done to keep him alive? Had you reacted poorly in the moment?

Maybe Ivar had caught on to some behavioral cue that you didn’t even know you were giving during Sigurd’s attack on you. You had no idea what it could have been, but there was no going back now.

Whatever it was, you would never really know the truth.

The silence in the room was interrupted by Ivar, entering without so much as a courtesy knock to make sure that you were decent. It didn't matter, not to him.

You could have been in there doing anything and he wouldn’t have batted an eye.

Right now, he just needed to be with you. Nothing else mattered more than that.

“What are you doing in here? All alone” he wondered, having looked all over for you before finally deciding that you would be in your room, turned in for the night.

Perhaps you were pouting over the fate of your precious feast? Whatever it was, it didn’t even occur to Ivar that it could have something to do with his brother, whom you would all be burying in the morning.

That didn’t even cross his mind.

“You murdered Sigurd today”

It took a moment or two for you to even decide what you wanted to say. You didn’t want to upset Ivar, but at a certain point, you decided that you didn’t care. There was no need to protect his feelings after what he’d just done. As much as you loved Ivar, he needed a quick dose of reality.

“I did not. It was an accident, he kept saying all those terrible things about you” he huffed, knowing that he should have been prepared for that. You never let him get away with anything.

Even if he thought he was doing it for the right reasons.

“I understand that Ivar, but I can handle a little bit of ridicule. No one can handle an axe to the chest” you scoffed, scooting over on your bed to make room for Ivar, as he made his way over.

You weren’t sure how to handle this.

All your life, you had been making excuses for Ivar and assuring everyone around you that he meant well and that he wasn’t as cruel as they thought. You had always had his back, and you knew that he had yours.

However, you weren’t prepared for what that would mean until today. Ivar had never killed someone for you before, at least, as far as you knew and it was a lot to take on at once.

He had murdered his own brother, in pursuit of protecting your honor. It was almost hard to believe.

“I’m sorry, but at least now the rest of the men know not to make comments about you” he joked, keeping his voice somber though there was a grin on his face.

It wasn’t funny, and he knew that, but you couldn’t help but laugh anyway. He had done something horrible, but at least he had come to check on you.

It wasn’t much, but it was more than you’d been prepared for. No one could ever say that he wasn’t caring, at least where you were concerned. You just wished that courtesy extended to other people too.

Perhaps if it did, Sigurd would still be alive.

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Text

this was requested by @deardmvz ! based off of this lovely post!!

Billy is released from the hospital a few months after he’s out of that place, having been dragged back to his own world a bloody mess by a group of government men in hazmat suits.

They said he was lucky to have spent as long as he did in a toxic environment and come out of it only needing a weekly breath treatment and a couple of bandages. But he knows it wasn’t luck.

Because if there was such a thing as lucky, Billy Hargrove was not it.

Rather, it was because he’d learned how to give the monsters over there what for. Didn’t hide and come whimpering at the first signs of rescue, begging for their protection like everyone was expecting him to after dealing with monsters and breathing polluted air for six months.

Six months. He couldn’t believe that. To him, on the other side, it had felt more like years.

But he’d stumbled out of that place all the same, dripping axe still gripped tight in hand, in case this was his mind giving up, in case his hell wasn’t really coming to an end after all, and in the end, he was tougher, more resilient, unafraid.

But the doctors didn’t really believe that, did they?

As soon as he was given the clear in the emergency room, onced over for physical injuries he’d thankfully avoided and the doctors having given him something that made him cough up most of the gross stuff that’d been collecting in his lungs, he was sent straight to the psych ward.

Because he could kill as many monsters as he wanted, and he could spend months as a survivor, doing what nobody before him had been able to without super powers, but he was never going to be able to shake the isolation, the uncertainty of everyday he spent over there. Not without help.

The upside down was a no man’s land, he didn’t have the time of day to think about what he’d done, who he’d lost, what had happened to him. But the moment he’s free of it, he’s back to reality.

Back to being the kid down on Cherry, with years of baggage to carry even before all this interdimensional bull that he’d never worked through. With a sister who thought he was dead, and a father who probably wouldn’t care less whether or not he was.

They see all of that, so he pushes them away, refusing every attempt the nurses make at helping him. He doesn’t want their help anyways, he doesn’t want to be in the hospital anymore, and he sure as all hell doesn’t want to be a part of some government conspiracy.

But with enough personal questions and screenings, they’re able to, a couple of weeks into the program, coax it out of him, working him up to the breaking point and the following outpouring of guilt.

Pushing him to admit things about himself he’d never had to look in the face until that hard shell he’d had to build up to protect himself from monsters of all kinds since he was just a kid dissolved away, and he was left a sobbing mess in a support group, going on and on about having chased his mother away, how he was working on chasing his little sister away.

About the way he treated his peers and the way he let others treat him. About Heather Holloway and everyone else and how he’d killed them.

Straight away they get him in to see somebody, something he doesn’t really like the sound of at first, but they say they’re willing to release him from the psych ward if he agrees to go regularly, so it’s worth a shot.

That is, until he realizes he has nowhere to go except back to his house. 5280 Cherry Lane, where Neil Hargrove, the very first monster he’d ever had to fight, would be waiting for him.

He tries to get out of it, to go back to who he was before he’d let all this stuff get to him, but it doesn’t last. He’ll bark out nasty things at the nurses and refuse to cooperate when they get to trying to evaluate his head again, but there’s no bite behind it, and he can’t keep it up.

That seemingly infinite well of hatred and pain had been drained by his time on the other side, until he just didn’t have it in him to be angry all the time anymore.

Billy tucks his tail and goes to the shrink, signs the release papers at the hospital and goes straight to that first appointment like he isn’t terrified of what will happen the minute they let him go home for the first time in forever.

Some part of him knows it’s no different than what he’d already been dealing with in intensive care, but there’s still something about being out there on his own, shooed away from what had become his sanctuary after escaping just to have some government approved doctor tell him he’s mentally unwell, that doesn’t sit right with him, and he walks out of that office even more nervous, more jittery to return than before, but he can’t avoid it forever.

The house isn’t too far from downtown where the office is, so he just walks home. He thinks of stopping at a payphone and call ahead, to let them know he’ll be coming home, but he hasn’t exactly been carrying pocket change with him, and he thinks it might be better if they’re not expecting him anyways.

It’s bitter cold outside, a dusting of snow on the ground making him walk slow over slippery sidewalks, unused to the conditions, but it’s the most fresh air he’s gotten in a long time, out in the kind of cold he can appreciate.

Over there, it was a clammy kind of cold, the type that clung to his skin and seeped into his bone, like he was under water. But this is different, the sun shining overhead taking off some of the bite, a cross wind that blew his hair back in his face and made the tip of his nose go numb.

By the time he reaches the door, he still doesn’t know exactly what he’ll say. How does one go about breaking the news to their family that they aren’t really dead?

The general idea is this: ring the doorbell, hope against hope that Neil isn’t afraid of zombies, appeal to his inner anti-government conspiracy theorist, and pray that he’ll buy it for long enough not to shoot him dead and maybe let him inside.

First step goes smoothly, and he’s ready to move on to blocking punches in the case of a kinemortophobic, but when the door is yanked open, it’s not his dad, and the rest of the plan goes out the window. It’s Max that answers, and before he has time to even process that, she wraps her arms around his torso in a hug tight enough to knock the wind out of him.

He doesn’t know what to do, this wasn’t what he’d been anticipating, so he kind of just, awkwardly pats her back and tries to ask her if he can come in, but all she does is squeeze him tighter.

Susan peers around a corner in the house, “Max, who was at the…” They lock eyes, and she trails off, a mix of relief and apprehension and maybe something like fear on her face. “Bring him inside, dear.”

Max pulls away and lets him in, wiping at stray tears with her sleeve pulled up over her hand. She waits for Billy to sit on the couch, and sits down right next to him, pressing into his side. “Where were you? We watched you die.“

“Wasn't me.” He eyes Susan, trying to communicate to Max that this was top secret, don’t tell your step-mom immediately after leaving a government facility information, but Susan chimes in.

“She told me everything. After what happened she was too upset to remember her agreement. We both signed the NDA.”

And for a second that pisses him off. Not at Max and Susan, but the agents who knew what was happening and still had the nerve to bring them in to threaten them without even bothering to mention he was still alive.

Right now that’s the part he tries to focus on. That he was still alive, and had better things to worry about than what he couldn’t change. “It was a clone. A fail safe made by the shadow in case your merry band killed me. When he died, I was trapped.”

“In the upside down?” Max’s eyes were wide as could be, the color drained from her cheeks. “But-but that almost killed Will and he was only there for like, a week.”

“Do I look like a scrawny twelve year old kid?”

“Muscles can’t protect you from toxic air, jerk.”

Susan’s looks frantic in that way she used to around Billy’s dad, who is notably not present, as she scolds, “That’s enough, Max. He’s been through a lot to get here, let’s let him ask some questions.”

It wasn’t like Billy really minded Max’s questions, he was sure he’d have quite a few himself if it was Max who had come back from the presumed grave, but he did have one of his own sitting heavy at the front of his mind. “Where’s Neil? He get his work schedule changed or something?”

“He’s gone.” Max deadpans.

At her tone, Billy feels his stomach drop, his heart stutter. “He died?”

“Heavens no. We got a divorce three months after we buried you, or what we thought was you.” Susan looks at Max tired, remorseful. “He was never the same without you.”

Things had been close to boiling over even before everything, he worried who had filled his shoes. He nods towards Max. “How bad was he?”

“Better and worse. He never laid a finger on us, but he was…”

An overdramatized shiver runs through Max as she finished her mother’s sentence, “Creepy.”

Susan nodded in agreement and explained, “So nice, so reserved, it was like we were constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“And he’s not coming back?”

“Why should he? He didn’t even tell us where he was going.” Max scoffs, missing the implication of what he asked. Seeing her still be so clueless made Billy infinitely grateful that Susan had finally given his old man the boot, even if that meant he was somewhere in the middle now.

He figures that was something he was willing to deal with if it meant Max was okay, and Neil wasn’t anywhere near her. Now he just needed to know if Susan would be expecting him to go find his dad on his own and move in with him.

He doesn’t mean to let as much tension into his voice as he does when he asks, “So what’s all this mean for me?”

“What else? You are never leaving me again, asshole.”

So it was settled, and judging from the look Susan gave him, she agreed with Max’s answer. Which was, overwhelming, to say the least.

Not that Neil had exactly been a family man, but the fact that they were willing to accept him back into their home without him around was more than Billy knew how to process just yet.

His room had already been converted into a storage space as Neil had been moving out, dragging everything that had never been unpacked in the first place out into the one space he viewed as disposable.

They thought he was dead, he couldn’t have expected them to keep his room the way he left it, and though it did sting a little when he found out half of his stuff was missing, either taken by Neil or thrown out in the process, it was soothed by Max giving him a box of all the things she knew were the most important to him, having snuck in and gone through his belongings herself.

Billy decides to let Susan keep her little storage room, it had been too drafty in there to make for a decent bedroom anyhow, so he moves into the carpeted corner of the basement, which he notices is finished now.

Before, the ceiling had been wide open, half built wooden slats coated in years of dust and cobwebs, a single exposed light bulb offering the only source of light. Now it looked like an actual room, and it made him feel something tight in his chest.

Because Neil had retiled and painted the upstairs bathroom when his first wife left him, and he had finished the basement when he thought his son had too.

Billy doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel about his dad anymore. He’d been dreading the moment he would have to walk through the doors of his own house out of fear and hatred of that man, but learning he wasn’t even there, he almost missed him.

Almost. But then he thought about the way Susan and Max were now, so distinctly different in the comfort they exhibited in their own space, no longer having to constantly cower in fear of the overbearing head of the house, the person he’s free to be now that Neil isn’t around, and suddenly he’s not so remorseful.

Though he does catch Susan once, standing in the kitchen one morning and crying over an old photo of her and Neil.

He’s pretty sure, from the glimpse that he gets, that it’s from the first church registry photoshoot they did as the Hargrove-Mayfields, when the photographer had mindlessly said something like “now just mom and dad,” making both him and Max gag, which made Susan cry after it was over.

That night had been her first taste of the real Neil Hargrove when Billy got a beating in the parking lot. He still remembers the horrified look on her pale face as she told him it was alright when he apologized, snotty nose and bruises on his skin.

He knew the feeling was the same for her, torn between the man they needed Neil to be and the man he had actually been to them, so he pretended not to see her tears. Silently, she agreed to do the same, and ignore the way he sometimes sat in Neil’s chair with a glazed over look in his eye, or sighed and trained his gaze to the floor when he passed the family photos still hanging in the hallway.

It takes a long while for the three of them to settle. Max is a constant ball of excitement, reminding Billy so many times a day that she’s happy to have her brother back that he might just cry about it once he’s alone, and Susan and him are nervous 24/7, pinballing off one another as they try and fail to forget the ghosts of the house.

He thinks about leaving for a while, moving in somewhere all on his own, but his therapist tells him it’d only make things worse now, to lose his support system. Besides, he didn’t have a penny to his name, so it wasn’t like he had much of a choice but to just suck it up and stay with the Mayfields.

In the meantime, he gets himself a job working stock at Melvald’s. They had an open position after Mrs. Byers skipped town, and he thinks they would’ve hired just about anybody to try to get back on their feet after the now demolished mall almost put them out of business, even zombie boy 2.0. His boss is understanding enough, doesn’t say a word when he has to go into the back and have a panic attack when a grieving family member comes in.

They tell him that’s what’s best for him, getting out there and doing something, even if it’s not the something he would ideally be doing at this point in his life. It had never been his intention to stay in Hawkins after graduating, he wanted to go to college back in his home town, but he had to admit it was growing on him some, and setting up roots there was supposed to be good. Maybe that was just the fact he wasn’t allowed to leave talking though.

The guy they’re sending him to, he thinks is somewhat of a quack. His advice is shaky at best, and he treats Billy like some kid, giving him tasks and a reward system more fit for Holly Wheeler than an eighteen year old with enough trauma for the whole town.

So even though he does cooperate, does everything last thing the guy asks of him, he doesn’t particularly feel the need to go beyond that, face the deeper set issues his therapist doesn’t even know about.

Billy’s lack of cooperation makes the whole thing more complicated, gives him less that his therapist can tell him to work on, so he asks him just to talk to Susan.

They’re closer now than ever before, far beyond all the tension and avoidance and misplaced resentment, but they still don’t really talk about any more than what’s necessary. Things like, how was your day, could you help me with this, are you okay, but nothing substantial.

It should be easy, they’d been living under the same roof since he was twelve, so they should have plenty to talk about, it just never seems like the right time, though he has been thinking about it a lot, the way he treats her despite how much she’s done for him.

He doesn’t really have a plan to bring it up, he’s fully prepared to go back to another appointment the next week reporting no dice, but there’s one morning where the clock keeps ticking and the both of them are still wide awake in the living room, like a stalemate of who’ll give in to sleep first.

They both look like they need it, Susan’s hair is frazzled, the bags under her eyes as dark as the coffee she drinks. Billy knows he’s not looking so hot either. He doesn’t remember the last time he could go to sleep without his subconscious taking him back to that place, so he doesn’t even try anymore, just waits until he gets so exhausted he’ll pass out into a dreamless sleep.

He doesn’t know what it is that compels him to say anything, because it’s not awkward or even tense silence really, but he does, his tired voice cutting into the quiet.

“I dunno how to make it up to you.” He’s looking down at his hands, at the barely there scars that still litter the skin there. He thinks for a moment about how much worse it could’ve been, before looking to her. “I mean, I’d get it, if you didn’t want me around.”

Susan looks back at him, not having expected him to say anything really, let alone something so heavy. “What’s this about, Billy?”

“M’not even your kid, Sus. I just- I dunno. Why’d you let me back in?”

She looks baffled. “Should I not have?”

“I’m an adult. don’t need to be moochin’ off my ex-stepmom.” He feels like he had the very first time he ever met her, scared to look her in the eyes, only this time for an entirely different reason. “M’not your burden to carry.”

“Honey, you’re not mooching. You go to work, you help around the house, you help me with Max. That’s more than I could ask for.” She hesitates, unsure of how wide his boundaries are, then adds, “And, maybe you aren’t my son by any stretch of the imagination, but you will always be Max’s brother.”

He had been expecting something about his dad, always had some suspicion that he’d forced a dependent on Susan after he left, but the total opposite seems to be true, and that makes a lump rise in his throat.

In the absence of a response, Susan continues, “If there was one thing you could do for me though, I know you lie to your therapist. Don’t.”

He doesn’t have it in him to fight it, has enough sense about him to know she’s right. All he can manage is a breathless, “Okay.”

She pats him on the shoulder gentle as can be, and stands up from the couch. He doesn’t look up as she retreats to her bedroom, afraid the tears that had welled up in his eyes would spill over if he did.

When he hears her door close softly is when he lets the tears fall. It’s still a lot for him, to have someone be so casual in looking out for him in that way he still hadn’t quite grasped was possible.

The very next day Billy fesses up, and to his surprise, they don’t immediately cart him off when they hear he’s been faking. That had been his biggest fear, with the power that these people held. They’d threatened to lock him up if he ever ran his mouth, so he didn’t know what to expect.

He did feel stupid though, opening the damn for the same guy who gave him stickers for taking his meds about all the things he’d bottled up. But it works to get him into a better program than what they had him doing before, and he realized he’d had it backwards.

The fear of what they were going to do to him kept them from doing anything at all, and it gave Billy a deep sense of relief, that he’d finally broken free of that.

So instead of being assigned things like brushing his teeth or going outside for five minutes a day, which was decent advice, but completely irrelevant to what he needed, now his therapist had started telling him things like throwing out the razor blade he’d been saving for a rainy day, dumping the last of the nonprescription pills he kept in his night stand.

The more he did, the more complicated they got, until he was told that, in exchange for completing his tasks, he would only have to visit the office once or twice a week instead of every day. His last assignment before that could happen was to make amends with his past.

The most obvious thing the doc wanted him to do was forgive his parents, but Billy didn’t know where to even begin on that one, or really, if he had or hadn’t already done as much, so he went with the other way first, apologizing to everyone he had, or felt he had hurt.

He started at the cemetery. Max came with him and held his hand as he broke down graveside, begging his repentance for all the people who’d died last July. Talking to their survivors was strictly out of the question, they still thought he was the hero that tried to save as many as he could and was killed in action, not the one responsible.

That had been the story spread it the public by the people who had known all along he wasn’t really dead, monitoring his activity on the other side while they turned murderer into martyr. The more time he spent in the shrink's office, the less sure he was that even he knew what side he was on.

Apologizing to the living proves to be easier. He starts with the Sinclair kid at one of the weekly nerd meetings Max holds at their house, now that it’s safe, pulling him aside for a few to say his piece, which, judging from his reaction, Max had already done most of the heavy lifting for him.

When they came back he got fixed with a glare from the unfamiliar little girl that was always around these days, and he realized he and Lucas had that in common, a weapon of a little sister.

Next came minor inconveniences, people like Tommy who he used as a punching bag just because they were friends. Most of them blew the whole thing off, they were in high school when it happened, didn’t understand the moral dilemma of it all, and everyone but maybe one kid who he might’ve punched a little too hard when a fight broke out after football practice forgave him.

Last on his list, the one person standing in the way of what was supposedly the next step of his healing process, was Harrington.

Steve’d had his own fall from grace, and Billy fell much, much harder than he had, so it could be the easiest apology he has to do, but there were reasons it might be the hardest too. He didn’t think he deserved forgiveness for the way he’d treated Steve, which he’d never even apologized for in the first place, and it seemed like a cheap shot to be doing it now, more than a whole year after beating his face in.

He tracks him down at work, rifling through shelves lined with tapes he wasn’t interested in until he had the guts to approach the counter and ask Steve to follow him outside. The bastard doesn’t even look suspicious, doesn’t hesitate in giving him his warmest smile and inviting him behind the counter instead with a, “What’s on your mind, man?

It should be awkward, uncomfortable at the very least, they're having a conversation that should be happening anywhere but in two folding chairs behind the counter at Family Video, and yet, Billy feels none of that unpleasantry, just a conviviality he’d never expect to have with Steve Harrington, of all people. T the one apology he’d expected to be turned down is accepted with a simple, “It’s okay, Billy.”

That’s what made him different. He wasn’t like Tommy, who’d told him to forget anything ever happened, or Susan, who was adamant that it wasn’t his fault; Steve actually forgave him without ignoring what he did, and that, that was what this was about.

He finds himself frequenting the video store on his off days, trying to make friends with the one person other than Max he felt like he could trust, who trusted him, and from there it turned to swinging by Steve’s place after work, going out on the weekends together, falling head over heels in love.

That last part Billy tries to deny, tries to rationalize that maybe he’s just clinging to something constant after so long in isolation, but the longer he spends around Steve, the more he knows there’s no way around it. Billy was so gone for him and his stupid hair and his stupid laugh and his stupid little family video vest.

There’s a while where he tries to distance himself a little, feeling guilty about crushing on the only person to extend the olive branch back after he got out, but then Steve starts showing up at his door, and Max would hide a guilty smile behind her hand.

Once summer hits, just a few short weeks shy of the anniversary of when the shadow got Billy, Susan and Max get more and more careful around him, like they don’t want to set him off, and he gets that. Sometimes Max or one of her little friends would mention something that had happened last July, a sort of ‘hey, remember when we,’ and he would get a little, off.

Never violent, never cruel, never the Billy he had been before, just, reserved.

He thinks they’re afraid he’s going to snap. That they’ve gotten the wrong impression from all this recovery stuff. The very last thing he wants is for Max to think just he’s a shmooze, faking being better to get on her good side.

But they’re not. They’re just want to give him his space, after everything, and he knows he’s got to get out of his head about it.

For now though, when he’s afraid he might break his promise, he takes off, but it depends on what kind of day it is where he’ll go. Sometimes it’s the pool, at the picnic table on the other side of the fence, or to the cemetery again, making the rounds between all of the markers, the ones he put there, or even to visit the totaled Camaro, sold to a junker and kept in the corner of some private property, his blood still on the seats.

Once, he’d made the mistake of going to the steelworks, just to sit on a railroad tie outside of the place for hours, having a panic attack alone as he tried and failed to forget bad memories, bruised ribs, falling fast, losing control.

None of those were particularly healthy places for him to be spending his free time, so per therapist recommendation, he starts finding better spots to hang out, places that weren’t just a way to retraumatize himself.

The problem is that in Hawkins, there isn’t anywhere really to go unless he wanted to spend all day in a dingy old diner or in half abandoned shops downtown. He liked taking Max to the drive-in on the outskirts, but the point is he needs somewhere to go away from his step-family.

When Steve finds out about his new assignment, the rides to and from work and quick drop ins just to say hello turn into days off spent at the quarry together, nights spent in front of Steve’s huge TV set.

One day after a double shift at Melvald’s, they end up out back by the pool. The air conditioning in Steve’s old house was not the best when it came to humidity, and Billy doesn’t like to be too hot. Something about the feeling is too familiar, too much like being on the floor of the sauna, sweating bullets and pleading for his life.

Heat is also one of the many things that triggers coughing fits, making him hack up his lungs from the months he spent without clean air to breath, so Steve’s ushering him outside to dip their feet in the pool and get out of the stuffy old house before he gets sick.

The smell of chlorine wading off of the pool isn’t all that much better. The strong chemicals make his nose and his throat and his whole chest burn like fire. Just the smell of it is enough that he has to try to remember that that hasn't been his reality for almost a year now, that he isn’t in the storage room at the pool downing bottles of poison.

It doesn’t bother him so much though, because the bad stuff, that’s all in the past now, isn’t it?

He tries instead to focus on the good things, on the breeze that they do get in the beating down sun and the way it carries cool air off the surface of the pool, offering more relief from the heat than they could get inside Steve’s inferno of a mansion, and on feeling the sunshine warming his skin again, the cold water and the smooth liner against his calves submerged in the pool. He even tries to focus on Steve, leaning all his weight back on his hands outstretched behind him, sitting so close to Billy their knees bump in the water every time Steve kicks his legs out.

And quite frankly, it’s not particularly hard, paying attention Steve with the way he’s practically glowing in the summer sun. As much as winter was his season, his forever pale skin and how he could rock a sweater didn’t even hold a candle to the way he looks now.

Maybe he is wearing preppy khaki shorts and a sun visor, but the way his back freckles in the summer, the skin on his cheeks and his shoulders flushing from the heat, his long hair sticking to the back of his neck with sweat, it’s a sight that makes Billy's heart pitta-pat.

Still, as nice of a view as Steve makes for, nothing can distract him from the nagging feeling that has Billy on edge. That sense that his flesh will start burning if he stays out here too long, that he’ll lose control of his body. That he’ll hurt Steve.

If Steve’s old nail bat propped against the pool shed, or their newer method of self defense, a machete from the hardware store purchased after Billy's last panic attack, hidden underneath of the chairs, offer any indication, the feeling may be mutual.

Despite the aviators perched on Billy’s nose, Steve must notice that distant look in his eye, because he offers Billy a quaint smile and, using one hand to stand up, he announces, “Be right back, gonna go get us some stuff.”

Billy nods and vaguely wonders what ‘some stuff’ means before turning his attention back to his surroundings. Back to following his therapists advice and watching the ripples in the pristinely kept water, listening to the rustle of untrimmed grass when a breeze comes through, bumble bees in the neighbors yard, anything at all that might stop his mind from wandering.

He’s almost feeling grounded again when he feels a chill run down the back of his neck. Goose pimples fan out across his skin, a deep seated cold to contrast the heat. He knows the feeling well, he’d gone through six grueling months using it as his only advantage over the monsters out to get him.

Some rational part of his mind tells him it’s just a bead of sweat rolling down his back, a loose strand of hair from the messy bun Max had put in his hair that morning brushing against his skin, the fact that his legs are still submerged in the 70 degree water, but he isn’t feeling rational after that, and he feels panic setting in again.

He wants to go run and tell Steve, wants to grab something to defend himself, but he can’t, he’s just, frozen to the spot.

The feeling is gone as quickly as it came, but everything else feels different now.

The pool water feels sticky and warm, almost like it’s sucking him in. The cement surrounding it feels rougher against his palms, and so hot to the touch. He’s scared to even blink, afraid that on the other side of that calm darkness, he’s in that hell again, and this has all been some delusion.

There’s a bang from behind him, and he’s on his feet, heart racing a thousand miles a minute. He’s just short of reaching for the machete under the chair when he notices it’s just Steve.

He’s standing by the sliding door, having pushed it open with his knee so far that the glass hit off the other door, and balancing way too much. Feeling like his legs are going to give out from under him and bringing one hand absently to his chest, Billy breathes out, “Damn it, Harrington.”

“Sorry.” There's a sheepish smile on his face, which has gone pinker than even the sunburn with a hint of embarrassment. He has a bulky radio balanced on his hip, a glass of something in each hand, and a deck of cards tucked under his chin. “A little help?”

Hurrying up the steps, Billy takes the radio before Steve can drop it and smash it to bits on the concrete. Steve takes the opportunity to explain himself, “I made lemonade, my gramma's recipe, and I thought we could use something to do.”

Maybe it’s reckless, maybe it’s the exact opposite of what he should do, but he puts the radio on the table and lets Steve distract him from that creeping feeling with mundanities.

It’s almost funny, how getting out of the house for him used to mean partying and sneaking out to wreak drunken havoc on the town. Now it meant sipping lemonade and playing double solitaire and go-fish with the fallen King poolside, like he was in some retirement community or something.

The only thing that kept him from feeling too ridiculous was the radio, which was playing a decent selection of rock music, not too much of the glitzy stuff he pretended not to like or the poppy stuff Steve definitely did.

Once the sun went down, the smallest bit of orange and pink sky disappearing behind the thick trees, and all the breeze had died out, they moved away from the pool's edge to the plastic chairs, pushing two together and sitting cross legged so they were facing one another. The night air was thick with the smell of a burning citronella candle and chlorine.

The cards had been long ago abandoned, both of them favoring just being in each other’s company, swapping stories of how bad work had sucked that day, and things like plans for the week. Billy sort of just likes having an excuse to look at Steve all night.

It’s more calm than Billy’s had in a long while since coming back, and he almost get to appreciate it before the chill comes back, this time accompanied by the distant rustling of leaves.

He could’ve pretended it was just a critter moving around or the trees settling, but then they hear the unmistakable sound of a monster's trill further out in the woods, and there’s no longer any doubt about it.

Steve freezes, looks to Billy with eyes as wide as saucers and, slowly as can be, reaches blindly behind himself until his hand closes around the base of the wooden bat, which had been moved closer as night fell.

He rises to his feet, stopping cold when the chair creaks as his weight lifts off it, trying to make as little noise as possible, an action mostly pointless with the radio still on. It’s too late anyways, they’d already been seen. Billy could feel it.

“Stay here. I’m just going to check it out.”

“No way, out of the two of us, I’m the only one who’s ever killed one of those things.” Steve looks like he wants to argue, wants to be noble and brave like he has to be for everyone else, so Billy tells him sternly, “I’m coming with you.”

And maybe Steve doesn’t refuse his help, but he isn’t looking at Billy either. His gaze, empty and exhausted, is trained on the trees, searching for signs of the monsters they’re both used to handling on their own. He leans into Billy’s side as they start into the woods, and he can feel him shaking.

The leaves and twigs all along the ground that crunch under their tennis shoes as they move deeper into the woods sound impossibly loud, drawing enough attention to their location that this was guaranteed not to be a surprise attack.

Billy would’ve preferred it that way, they were easier to kill if they weren’t expecting a fight, but he supposed he should just be grateful that they’d found them before they could make their way into Steve’s backyard and take them by surprise.

They reach a clearing and he gets a dreadful feeling like his entire body has been dipped in ice water, and he knows they're right in the middle of a swarm. Instinctively, he puts his arm out across Steve’s chest. “Stop.”

“What?” Billy doesn’t respond, but as Steve’s eyes adjust, he notices them too. About six or seven demodogs, behind trees and bushes, hiding from their prey. He whispers harshly right into Billy’s ear, “Do you think they see us?”

“No shit.”

“Then what the hell are they doing?”

“Waiting for their chance. But we’re not gonna give it to them.” He digs the heels of his Chuck’s into the dirt, grip tightening on the machete. He glances over at Steve and tries not to think too hard about the apprehension written across his features, “You ready for a fight?”

Steve pales, like he was never expecting it to get that far, but they were about thirty feet, maybe further, into the woods already, they wouldn’t be able to book it back to Steve’s house in enough time. The damn things were much too fast. He swallows hard, whispers, “How do I kill one?”

“Aim for the base of its skull. Never let it get your weapon in its mouth. Always pay attention to your surroundings.” His voice is quiet, but stern, trying not to let any fear slip into his tone that might make the other boy more afraid. He was the experienced one, if he were to let it show that he was scared, Steve might go running for the hills. “And Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Plant your goddamned feet.” Steve nods, furrows his brows and tries to force a breathy chuckle at the call back, but he barely manages a huff, and Billy can tell he’s terrified.

They don’t have time to think about it though, in the middle of a swarm he can’t let him dwell on it for too long, so he turns his attention off of Steve, and whistles, shouts “Hey, assholes! Come and get us!”

There’s a breathless second where the dogs don’t move an inch, he can tell Steve is about to say something that could’ve gotten the both of them killed so he cuts him off, “Get ready, Harrington.” One of the demodogs, he’s guessing the leader of the freakish pack based on the sheer size of it, shrieks, the cue for the others to start charging them.

These ones are fast, probably faster than even he’s used to, and he doesn’t like how close the first one gets to Steve before he brings his bat down it, so he pulls him closer by the back of his shirt, presses their backs together so there’s less room for a surprise.

The big one comes after Billy, the bigger threat of the two. The sense works as a two way street, if he can tell where they are, they can tell where he is, and they don’t like that.

It only takes him a few swings to get it stumbling, two more to finish it off, but in the time it takes him to kill the one, he loses track of where Steve is. Frantically he looks around, taking note of the location of the dogs, until he finds him in the dark a few feet off from where he is, swinging his bat at the runt over and over, making sure it was good and dead.

And Billy would be impressed, except for there was another dog charging him, just a few seconds off from closing its teeth around Steve’s arm on the backswing. It’s too close for him to try to kill it, so he kicks it, making it hiss and tumble across the muddy ground.

Steve looks over at him, blood spattered on his face and fear in his eyes. Billy wishes he could stop and appreciate the close call, but it’ll come back, and there’s another charging from the other side, so he settles for shouting, “Just remember what I told you and you’ll be alright!”

With the biggest out of the way it’s easy pickings, Billy takes out the next one that tries him quick, but another catches him off guard, clamps it’s teeth down hard on the machete, lodging it in its mouth. It gets cut bad, but not enough to really do much damage to it. If he lets go, he’s defenseless, if he doesn’t, he’s going to lose his arm.

That’s a call he’s almost willing to make, wrenching his weapon free at the risk of getting himself bit, but he doesn’t have to, because Steve takes it for him, running over from somewhere and bringing the bat down hard on the back of its head.

It would be too distracting to thank him, so he just nods his way and turns back to the last two dogs still alive, Steve taking the one that was still hiding and leaving the other for him.

At this point, he’s feeling pretty confident, one dog on its own is nothing much to worry about, and it seems it knows it too, because it stops a few feet off, daring him to come at it first. He takes his own advice and plants his feet in the dirt, daring it right back.

It charges him, and he stabs it straight through its head. It was a weak one, a last line of defense they didn’t expect to need, and it hisses out it’s final breath after only one go.

Billy hears the one Steve went after scampering off too, judging from the uneven drag of its weight across the forest floor, hurt badly enough it won’t last long.

He tries to feel for any others, but they don’t travel in packs that big, not without an order to follow. He rolls his shoulders and relaxes his stance, but he doesn’t dare dream of letting go of the machete yet. Even as it drips sticky slime and gore in thick drops onto the ground, even if it feels so heavy in his hands, also splattered with gooey blood.

There’s a moment of disturbing calm, the bodies of maimed demodogs scattered all around them as Billy tries to remind himself that they’re in his world this time, instead of him in theirs. He closes his eyes to shut out the panic and just listens.

Listens for gentle reminders that he’s in the real world. The sound of the katydids in the trees. A stray breeze rustling the leaves, dry from the relentless heat. The distant scratch of tires on pavement. Softly bubbling water from the jets in Steve’s pool.

He notices that the radio is still going, making the whole thing feel somehow more eerie, as if interdimensional monsters lurking in the neighborhood wasn’t bad enough on its own. Like when a car goes off the road, still playing a reckless teenager's final anthem. Billy wonders what song he’d like to be playing when he died. Maybe some Misfits.

But he isn’t dead, not yet anyhow, and that’s not the music that’s drifting out to where he’s still standing stock still in the woods, waiting for reality to hit him.

REO Speedwagon with Can’t Fight This Feeling carries softly out to their location, probably one of the lamest songs to fight monsters to if you were to ask Billy.

I can't fight this feeling any longer

And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow

What started out as friendship has grown stronger

I only wish I had the strength to let it show

Though he’s got to admit, it’s not a horrible song for this thing he has going with Steve. After that close call of the dogs stalking so close to his house, Billy doesn’t think he has it in him to let the chance to bring it up with Steve slide through his fingers again. He’d never forgive himself.

I tell myself that I can't hold out forever

I said there is no reason for my fear

“Harrington.” When he opens his eyes again Steve isn’t there, and for a second he’s got to fear the worst. To wonder, if the dogs aren’t the only thing he’ll find dead. “Steve?”

'Cause I feel so secure when we're together

You give my life direction, you make everything so clear

“M’here, Bill.” He's leaning against a tree, his bat still held close at his side, looking winded, but alright, from what Billy can tell at least. “Just needed to, to catch my breath.”

And even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight

You're a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter's night

And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might

“You scared me, asshole.” Billy gathers his courage, rides the wave of adrenaline to take a step closer, until he’s hovering right in front of him, dangerously close, to say, “Listen Steve, there's something I’ve been thinking about for a while, and after this I just, I can't fight it anymore.”

He gets the memo, half-lidded eyes focusing on Billys lips, making him flick his tongue across them on instinct, tasting remnants of strawberry chapstick and lemonade dulled by the scent of copper. “Then don't fight it.”

And I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I started fighting for

It's time to bring this ship into the shore

And throw away the oars, forever

Their weapons are tossed to the ground before Billy closes the small gap that was left between them, ignoring all the muck and goo and blood splattered on their clothes and their skin to cup the side of Steve’s face, kiss him as soft and as sweet as he knows how after a fight like that.

'Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I started fighting for

And if I have to crawl upon the floor, come crashing through your door

Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore

Steve pulls away too soon, a soft gasp escaping his lips as he leans forward, forcing his weight onto Billy. The magic of the moment comes crashing down, when he notices how dreadfully pale Steve is, even in the darkness of the woods, untouched by street lamps or moon light.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Through gritted teeth, he mumbles into Billy’s shirt, “I think one got me.”

“Jesus, you're telling me this now?” He helps him lean back against the tree again, feeling he has the right to fret over him after a first kiss. “Where at?”

“My leg.” He says it so casual, Billy’s expecting nothing more than a nick, a last attempt at a scratch from a dying dog, but it’s bad.

Skin and muscle are torn through in a gash probably five inches long on Steve’s leg, deep enough he swears he can almost see bone. It’s already bruised dark, deep purple and black under all the blood, and bent just a little, like the bone had been cracked, but not quite broken.

Billy has to fight the urge to wince, to gag, to let any sort of panic over the severity of the bite show, because he knows Steve hasn’t seen it yet, that he’s maybe even in shock right now. The moment he let it show how bad he thought it was, Steve could pass out on him. Or worse.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Thought we were having a moment.”

“Well I’d like to have at least a few more, if you wouldn’t mind.” He sighs, but he drops the attitude. Stressed as he may be, Steve needs him level headed right now. “Can you walk?”

“Sure, yeah.” Something about the way his voice sounds like he’s struggling for air makes Billy not believe him, but he offers him his arm to let him test his weight anyways. It doesn’t go well, “Son of a mother bitch!”

“Yeah, I’m gonna take that as a no.” Billy figures it’d be better just to come back for their weapons later than to wait around for a second attack with an injured Steve, or to get sliced to ribbons carrying them and Steve back to the house. Because that’s what he’s going to have to do, from the looks of it.

He bends down and lets Steve wrap his arms loosely around the back of his neck, and hooks his hands under his knees to lift him. With his leg off the ground, he’s guessing Steve must catch a glimpse of how badly it’s torn up, because he throws his head back and mutters an “Oh shit.” to the stars.

Billy wishes his voice sounded more certain when he assures him, “You’ll be alright, just don’t look at it.”

There’s blood dripping from Steve’s leg on the grass, all on the concrete steps from the backyard that lead into Steve’s house and then the hardwood floors. Billy tries not to think about how they’re leaving behind a trail that would lead the monster straight to them.

They’d killed the dogs though, so he tries his damndest to believe that his biggest worry right now would be not being able to get the stains out before Mr. and Mrs. Harrington got back.

“Where do you keep the first aid around here?”

“Upstairs bathroom, third door on the right.”

Billy frowns. Trying to get him up the stairs was going to be awkward, the space between the wall and the banister so narrow, and Steve’s legs so long. The only way he can keep from dragging his wound against anything, which he’s almost positive would kill Steve at this point, is to turn sideways.

It feels like it takes forever to get up the steps and walk down the upstairs hallway, dodging side tables and potted plants until they reach the bathroom.

Even once they get there, Billy winces, taking in the tall, but thin door frame. “M’not fitting through here with you, Stevie. Gonna have to let you down.”

“Okay.” His jaw tightens, like he knows it’s gonna be hell to put pressure back on his leg, and Billy thinks about how he’d rather knock out the entire wall than have to watch Steve hurt himself.

But slowly, with Billy’s help, he gets his good foot back on the ground, and his arms unwrap themselves from the back of his neck. Billy keeps one hand holding tight on his hip, to keep him from toppling over while standing on one leg.

“Let me go in first, okay?” Turning around so they’re facing each other, he gives Steve both of his hands and kicks the half opened door the rest of they way open to reveal the dark bathroom behind him. He gets Steve to use the doorframe as a brace long enough that he can turn the light on, then gives him his hand again.

Steve takes the first step, hopping on one foot and making barely any progress. A steely look crosses his face, like he’s already decided what he’s about to do, and he lets his other foot down to the ground.

“That’s it, Stevie, just like that,” Billy mutters little encouragements under his breath, tries anything to keep Steve from thinking about walking on a broken leg. “Keep it coming, baby, just a few more steps.”

The closest thing to the door is a double tiered wooden shelf with magazines and towels on it, so Billy pushes the towels onto the floor with one hand and helps Steve sit down on it with the other.

Maybe it’s the wallpaper, but his complexion looks ghastly, all green and grey where he should be flushed and lively. Before he starts getting everything together, Billy puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You good?”

It was a stupid question, Steve scoffs and says, his voice strained, “No.”

“At least you’re honest.”

Steve groans and stares up at the ceiling, ignoring his leg and the puddle of blood spreading on the tiled floor. “Shouldn’t I be at the hospital right now?”

“Normally, I would say yes,” Billy crouches down by the sink, digging in the cabinets underneath it for the first aid and a rag, “But closest hospital to us is the general hospital, and they’re not going to be thinking about demodog infections. They’ll put a cast on this thing and kill you.”

“Oh.” A poor choice of words, because Steve whispers, “I’m not gonna die, am I?”

“Not if you let me take care of you.”

He soaks through three wash rags with blood before the bleeding slows down enough that Billy can clean it, and slowly the shocked state of mind he was in starts to wear off. At least, judging from the way he’s gripping the edge of the shelf he’s sitting on so hard his knuckles turn white, it’s starting to hurt him pretty bad.

But Steve stays agonizingly quiet as Billy works anyways, hardly even wincing, despite the obvious amount of pain he’s in. Billy clicks his tongue, “I know you’re holding back on me, Steve.”

“You’re one to talk.” He’s defensive, borderline hysterical. “Mister pretending to be tough just because you’ve been through this once.”

“Next time I’ll just let the dogs get you, then.”

Ignoring Billy's rudeness, Steve mutters, “It just hurts so fucking bad.” A tear he’d been trying to hold back slips past, running a track through the dirt and blood that had gotten on his face.

“I’ll get some pain meds in you in a minute, just need you to be alert for this.”

He swallows thickly, like he’s scared. “Ready for what?”

“Well, you’re gonna need stitches.”

“Do you even know how?”

He didn’t. The most he’d ever sewn was a tiny hole in a jacket sleeve, but he didn’t feel it wise to tell him that. “I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.”

“No way. Absolutely not.” Steve grabs his hand tight to emphasize his point. “You are not coming anywhere near me with a needle.”

“Look, the alternative is it gets infected and you lose the leg. Or, you know, since nobody has ever survived a bite, your life.” He’s not trying to be snappy, but the more blood Steve loses, the more nervous he’s getting about wasting time arguing.

“Man, could you cut back on being an asshole for like, five minutes.” Billy rolls his eyes and tries to reach for Steve’s leg again, but he pulls away from his touch, blinking real slow like he made himself dizzy or he’s getting sick, before he tacks onto the end, “I’m wounded.”

“I know, I'm just trying to help you, Stevie. Please.”

Sighing and running his fingers through his hair, he puffs his cheeks out with a sigh and gives in with Billy’s pleading. “Whatever, just, get it over with quick.”

He goes back to not saying anything, biting his tongue while Billy tries to do a decent patch up. It looks somehow even gnarlier than before, with crooked and sloppy sutures, but it stops the bleeding for long enough that Billy can wrap it as tight as he can with some gauze and an ace bandage.

He sits back on the balls of his feet, and takes note of how they were definitely going to have to go to the government hospital where he’d been treated in the morning. Steve’s quiet so he asks, “Steve?”

“M’good.” He assures halfheartedly, leaning forward to hold his head in his hands. “Doin’ just peachy fucking keen.”

They stay upstairs, Billy completely unwilling to try to get Steve back down to the main living room on a busted leg. He'd have to worry about showering and getting the stains that’re all over the Harrington’s floors off later, right now he was just worried about making sure Steve made it through.

There’s a second living room, a foyer, Steve calls it, at the end of the hall, so he takes him in there, lets him sprawl out on the couch while he goes to get a phone and something for Steve to take from the first floor.

He snatches up the rotary off the coffee table, and goes digging in the medicine cabinet for pain killers. Near the back is a bottle of Vicodin, thank god for Mrs. Harrington’s many ailments and her equally surplus supply of pain pills.

Before making his way back up to Steve, he remembers to make sure to lock the sliding doors. Not that it would do much to really stop a demodog, but it’s the thought that counts. He decides to tack a blanket up to block the glass too, in hopes that it might make their scent at least a little harder to track.

Steve is hesitant to take his mother’s prescription, afraid of the side effects, but then he tries to drag his leg up from the floor to prop it on the coffee table so he can get more comfortable, and his mind changes right quick. He almost convinces Billy to let him take more.

Next is letting somebody know. Part of him wishes they could just sweep this whole thing under the rug and forget it, but this was a small town. The woods behind Steve’s house stretched all the way to the now empty Byers’ residence, to the Wheeler's, and from there to Hop’s cabin.

Keeping this a secret would cost lives, that he could be sure of. One measly pack of demodogs weak enough to be taken out by the two of them was guaranteed not to be the last. This was the start of another battle, and they needed as many people as possible to be ready for it.

He sits down with the phone next to Steve on his own cushion, careful not to jostle the couch too much. “Do you know Hop’s number?”

“Just give it here.”

Billy watches Steve dial the number, not a fan of how instinctual an action it seems to be, and as he barely gets a word in edgewise over Hopper on the other end of the line. When he get the chance to breaks the news, the call is over almost immediately, Hop getting ready to warn everyone else. He hangs up with tears in his eyes and a defeated posture.

The instant the phone is discarded on the side table, Steve tells him, his voice thick with tears and exhaustion and pain, “I don’t wanna do this again, Bill.” He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and shakes his head. “Just, last time, we were so close to losing Hopper, losing you, and I just- I can’t do it.”

“Hey. Look at me, Steve. It's not gonna be like last time. You got me now.” Steve does look over at him, his eyes wide, but he only cries harder.

Not knowing what else to do, Billy tosses an arm over his shoulder and pulls him close, and Steve leans into his touch, but there’s a deep frown on his face. Billy thinks his heart breaks clean in two as he insists, in a voice so worn, so dejected, “That’s just one more thing for me to lose.”

“I say it’s one more person looking out for you.” His heart fluttering in his chest, he prays the kiss in the woods wasn’t a heat of the moment thing, and presses another to the side of Steve’s head.

As best he can with his leg up on the coffee table, Steve settles up against Billy's side, sighing heavy through his nose.

Long enough passes that he thinks Steve’s fallen asleep, the pain meds would hopefully knock him out soon, but then he breaks the silence with a quiet, so gentle Billy almost doesn’t hear it, “Will you?”

“Will I what?”

“Look out for me?” The way he says it, it’s almost like he’s embarrassed to ask, so unable to believe that somebody would care about him instead of the other way around.

“‘Course.” Billy smiles despite the way seeing Steve so broken makes him feel, lets the fingers on one hand trail lazily up and down Steve’s arm in a way he hopes is comforting. “Even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight, remember?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he presses himself somehow even closer to Billy and sighs a little laugh, sniffling. “God, you're never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Hey, I’d rather remember our first kiss as being to REO Speedwagon, which is super lame by the way, than with you bleeding out in the woods, so.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve sits up a little straighter so he can look him in the face. There’s still some sadness in his expression, but there’s a hint of a smile too, and Billy will take that as a win any day. Teasingly, Steve says, “Maybe you’ll like the second one better.”

“We’ll just have to see won’t we?” He leans in, but it’s Steve who initiates the kiss this time, leading with more heat behind it than before. He tangles his hands in Billy's hair, deepening the kiss with the press of his tongue against Billy’s.

The angle isn’t very comfortable, a crook forming in Steve’s neck to reach Billy, and they pull apart for a breath. Face flushed beet red, Steve whispers, “Hey, Billy?”

Billy hums in response, too flustered to get his words in order, “Hm?”

“REO Speedwagon isn’t that bad.”

#harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #susan hargrove #max mayfield #ej writer #story by ej!#tw blood #tw injury #how did this end up at over 10k words #i hope i didnt go too far off track with this #my brain just could not stop #I tried to post this two days ago but couldn’t because of the text block limit on mobile so I’m sorry this took so long #hope it was worth the wait but I’m very self conscious about posting this one #I’m really hoping this makes some sense because I can’t read all the way through it again whoops

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