#stumbling out an english response but the words i thought you dead- would probably just

[justarandompjofan]

based on @inahallucination ‘s love of time travel anderperry fics. trigger warnings for underage drinking and mentions of death.

How To Save a Life

December 15th, 1960

Todd Anderson hated December. He hated the sight of falling snow. And most of all, he hated today. The day that Neil Perry died. As the clock struck eleven, he snuck out of his dorm room. Cameron didn’t awaken. It was like he was a junior again, only this time without Neil. He made his way to the cave, snow crunching beneath his shoes. Charlie was already there when he arrived.

“Charlie Dalton. It’s been a minute.”

He pulled him into a hug, “Too long, Anderson.”

“How’ve you been?”

“The same.”

“Barely hanging in?”

He laughed dryly, “You know it.” There was a long silence as they both struggled to find the right words to say. Charlie held up the bag he was holding, “I brought alcohol.”

“Why would you do that? If you got caught…”

“It makes it hurt less. It...it tends to wash it all away.”

“That can’t be healthy, Charlie.”

He shrugged, “Probably not. But I always work short term. So…”

“Yeah, sure. Anything to get the thoughts out.” So he drank. He kept drinking until there was nothing left in his head. Until everything was blurry and distant. He stumbled down, landing hard on the snow covered ground. He shut his eyes and leaned against the cave wall.

September 1st, 1959

“I hear we’re going to be roommates. I’m Neil Perry.” Okay, what the hell?

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m your roommate, Neil. Todd Anderson, right?”

He blinked, “Yeah uh, what’s the date again?”

“Uh, September 1st, 1959. Why do you ask?”

“I need a minute, sorry.” Todd quickly walked away and into the bathrooms. He leaned over one of the sinks, trying to catch his breath. His mind was racing. He didn’t understand. Neil Perry was dead. It was 1960, not 1959. But he was right there. The same way he’d looked when Todd had first laid eyes on him. He splashed water on his face, attempting to clear his thoughts. Was this-was this his second chance? His chance to try again and save Neil? He took a deep breath and stared at himself in the mirror. He was going to fix this. Neil wouldn’t die this time.

He made his way down the hall to the room that he and Neil had once shared. It was like walking into a memory. Actually, it was more like a nightmare. Neil was already in there, starting to unpack his bags.

“I’m sorry about earlier, I was just a little tired from the car ride.” His voice definitely cracked. Despite what you might think, talking to your dead best friend that you were in love with was not easy.

Neil smiled up at him, “I totally get that.” Todd was about to speak when the door flew open. He didn’t have to look at the door to know it was Charlie.

“How was your summer slick?”

“Keen.” The rest of the conversation went as he’d remembered. Then there was a knock on the door, and Mr. Perry entered. Todd nearly punched him on the spot. But he simply turned around. He couldn’t look at him, the man responsible for Neil’s death. Hearing him talk shocked him. How could he not see it before? How could he not see how trapped Neil was? Maybe if he had, he could’ve done something. This was a whole new perspective. He was going to use it. When Neil came back in, he looked entirely defeated.

“So, what do you think of my father?” There weren’t enough words in the English dictionary to say just what he thought of him.

He simply shrugged, “Don’t listen to him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Clearly he doesn’t understand you. You can’t let him get to you.”

“That’s harder than you may think,” Neil muttered.

“I’ve known you for-for not even an hour, but I can tell you know who you are. The problem is, he doesn’t. That’s his fault.”

He chuckled, “How inspirational.”

“What can I say, I’m just a motivational speaker.” Neil laughed. It felt weirdly easy, talking with him, like no time had passed. But he was dead. That was harder to move past.

“Want to join us for a study group tomorrow?” Yes. Yes he did. But hadn’t he not in the past? But that was the whole point, wasn’t it? To change the past. And the future. And-god, he was confusing even himself.

“Sure.”

“Great! My friends can be…a little much sometimes.” He definitely knew that. “But they’re really sweet. I think you’ll like them.”

It was weird. Really weird. Going through events he’d already gone through, trying to keep things similar enough. He noticed things now, too. Like the way Neil would be so close to crying every time he came in from calling his father. He tried so hard to not mess up. And god, Neil. He was still in love with him. Totally and completely.

When Neil came into their dorm with the Midsummer Night’s Dream flyer, his heart sank. He couldn’t crush Neil’s hope, but if he did the show then this would all be futile.

“You’re coming to the meeting this afternoon?” Neil asked, sitting over on his spot on the radiator.

“I don’t know, maybe.” He just let the words come out, as if they were all original and not words he could remember saying.

“Nothing Mr. Keating has to say means s**t to you, does it, Todd?”

“W-what is that supposed to mean?”

Neil stood, walking towards him, “You’re in the club! Being in the club means being stirred up by things. You look about as stirred up as a cesspool.”

“So-you want me out?”

“No! I want you in, but being in means you gotta do something. Not just say you’re in.”

“Well, listen, Neil. I-I appreciate this concern, but I-I'm not like you. All right? You, you, you say things and people listen. I'm-I’m not like that.”

“Don’t you think you could be?” Shoot. He couldn’t remember this part. He was going to stumble over all the words and ruin it.

“No! I--I, I don't know, but that's the-that’s not the point. The-the-the point is that there's nothing you can do about it, so you can just butt out. I-I can take care of myself just fine. Alright?”

“No.”

He looked up, “What do you mean, “no”?”

“No.” Neil smirked. This was it. He was going to change this. He was going to admit everything he’d wanted to say since the moment they met the first time. He stood up to be at the same level as him. They were only inches away from each other.

“H-hi Todd.”

“Hi,” he whispered. His eyes said everything and Neil nodded slowly. Todd leaned in slowly, and their lips met in the middle.

December 15th, 1959

He took a deep breath. This was it. This was the night that would change everything. This was the reason he was here. Neil was only minutes away from leaving, the light completely gone from the outside.

“Neil?”

“Yeah?”

He sat down beside him, “You can’t do the play tonight.”

“What? Why not?”

“I-I’m afraid of what will happen if your father finds out.”

“But I can’t just-“

“Please, Neil. Please don’t do the show. I have-I have a really bad feeling about this.”

He sighed, looking away, out the window, “Okay.”

“I’m really sorry, I know how much it means to you. But there will be other shows, you’ll get other chances.”

“Will I?”

“Yes. You will. Your father can’t control you forever, and you’re going to become an actor.”

“You think so?” he asked, a spark of hope in his eyes.

“I know so.”

He closed his hand around Todd’s, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Neil.” He’d done it. Neil was safe. His father wouldn’t find out, and he wouldn’t die. Everything was going to be okay. Everything was okay. He rested his head on Neil’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

December 16th, 1960

When Todd awoke, he was alone.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes, “Neil?” There was no response. But he saw a person in the bed across from him. He must be pretty sound asleep.

He cleared his throat, “Neil?” The person in the bed shifted and sat up. It wasn’t Neil. It was Cameron.

“Cam, what are you doing here? Did you and Charlie get into an argument again?”

He looked at him, confused, “Charlie? I-uh, I’m your roommate, Todd.”

He laughed, “No you're not. Neil’s my roommate.”

“Todd, are you feeling alright?”

“What do you mean?”

Cameron sat down next to him, his tone low, “Neil’s dead, Todd.”

“N-no he’s not!”

“Todd, I know it’s hard because it was a year ago yesterday but-“

“I saved him! I-I got a second chance, I saved him, Cam!” he exclaimed. He was mainly trying to convince himself.

“I’m really sorry, Todd.” This was too much for Todd to handle. He broke down sobbing. Cameron wrapped an arm around his shoulder, trying to comfort him. It didn’t work. He hadn’t saved Neil. He failed.

When he spoke, his voice came out in a whisper, “I was supposed to change things. I had to save him.”

“There’s nothing we could have done, Todd. You can’t blame yourself.”

“But I could’ve! I could have stopped him, I could have saved him.”

“Why don’t you lie down, Todd?” He did. But he couldn’t sleep. No matter how much he wanted to. Because maybe if he slept he could see Neil again.

#whoops #this hurt to write tbh #could i have changed it? yes #do i care? no #dead poets society #dps #anderperry #neil perry #todd anderson #charlie dalton #richard cameron

[the-most-slytherin-hufflepuff]

Chapter 6

I manged to finish chapter 6 😃. I’m so excited about this one. I had so much fun and I hope y’all like it. Inspiration for the fic comes from @heyitssmiller and her fabulous anons. Credit for the characters goes to @lumosinlove 

To say he was nervous was a gross understatement. Leo had spent his whole life behind the tower’s walls, and now he was going to a place full of people. He was going to meet Finn and Logan’s family. 

Leo stopped in his tracks when he saw the stone building. The orphanage didn’t look the way he expected. It was a house, probably a family estate. It didn’t look scary or intimidating, it looked inviting and warm and like what a home was supposed to be. 

It looked like what the tower never was. 

Leo heard Finn take a deep breath. “Celeste is going to have our heads.” 

A nervous laugh bubbled out of Logan. “Yeah, we’re super dead.” 

“Worth it”, Finn said softly, looking at Leo. The boy didn’t seem to notice. 

The blonde had a worried expression on his face. He had heard Logan and Finn talk about Celeste constantly. She sounded like a great person, if not a little scary, but nothing like what Walburga was like. What worried Leo was that she wouldn’t like him. 

He didn’t know why that worried him so much. He’d told the other two as much, they had tried reassuring him. Tried telling him she would like him just fine because, as Logan put it, “what’s not to like”. 

“Well, let’s go.” Finn began walking towards the building. “To our, hopefully painless, deaths”. 

“I can’t tell if you are joking or not”, Leo sounded worried. 

Logan laughed, “they’re joking, trust me.” 

Finn turned around to look at Leo, they had a puzzled look on their face before something clicked in their mind. 

“Don’t worry, Celeste is a sweetheart she won’t hurt us.” 

They opened the door. A small child with long brown hair came running out and jumped on Logan, wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. 

“Hey Katie.” 

Logan put her down and she looked up at him with a glare. “Logan Tremblay, don’t ever disappear like that again.” 

Finn watched Logan get scolded by a small ten year old Katie with an amused face. After glaring at Logan for a few seconds she turned around to look at Finn, she was mad. 

“Don’t think I forgot about you. Disappear like that again and I’m taking away your Katie privileges.” She turned to look at Logan, “yours too”. 

Leo tried to suppress a laugh as he watched them both apologize profusely. “What are Katie privileges?” 

Logan looked at Leo before explaining, “Basically, if she takes away our Katie privileges, we would have to call her Katherine.”

She turned to look at Leo, the anger in her face changing into curiosity. 

“Hello, who are you?” 

“I’m Leo.” He put his hand out for a handshake. 

“Katherine”, she said, shaking Leo’s hand. 

“Wow Katie, you’re so classy”, Finn said between giggles, “shaking hands and everything.” 

“Shut it Finnegan”. 

Logan laughed at Finn’s pouting face. “Lo, you’re sister is making fun of me”. 

Logan’s shrug made Finn pout more. Leo wanted to kiss it away. 

 He shouldn't feel like that about Finn. They had a boyfriend who, Leo realized, he also wanted to kiss. The realization made him startle slightly. He wasn’t exactly surprised, he had dreamt about having a storybook ending since forever. Someone coming to rescue him from the evil inside the tower had been a fantasy of his since he had started reading. 

In the story it was always some damsel in the tower. It was always a girl getting rescued by a dashing prince. Finn and Logan weren’t a prince, and he wasn’t a damsel, but Leo found that he really didn’t care. They had gotten him out of his own personal hell, that he had lived in for years, and he loved them for that. 

Leo had known Finn and Logan for about three days, and he knew almost nothing about them, but he knew enough to know that what he felt wasn’t just gratitude. They were patient with him when he didn’t understand things, and made him laugh and got him out of his thoughts when they drifted to the more dangerous of his memories and they were so beyond gentle with him. 

They made Leo happy. 

They had taken every idea, thought and opinion Walburga had planted into his mind and destroyed every single one of them, and yes maybe somewhere there was someone that would want to take advantage of him the way she always told him the world would, but she already did that.

 Walburga was every single danger and horror she preached about. People like her were the reason Leo wasn’t allowed to leave the tower. That’s why he had made the deal with Finn in the first place. He had made a choice between two monsters and he didn’t regret it. 

If Leo had chosen to stay, to just give Finn the crown and let them leave without him, he wouldn’t have gotten to know either of them. He wouldn’t have known that there were people out there that could care for him, he wouldn’t have known what kindness and love felt like. 

If given the choice again, he would always choose Finn and Logan. 

“Leo, are you alright”. He met Logan's worried gaze. Leo blinked slowly, shaking the thoughts from his mind before responding. 

“Yeah, I’m ok” he tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. 

“Well Katie is already inside and probably announced to the world that we’re here so”, Finn made a motion with their hand, “you may get questioned by an eccentric twenty three year old .” 

Leo laughed, Logan was pleased to hear it sounded real. “What do you mean ‘questioned’.”

“June is very curious. She tends to ask a lot of questions.” 

“Who’s June?”  

“June is Finn’s Katie”, came Logan’s response. “Come on”, he motioned with his hands for Leo and Finn to follow him inside the house. 

The inside was interesting to say the least. There were toys and books thrown all over the floor.  A boy and girl were running around being chased by Katie, there was who Leo guessed was June, painting the portrait of a woman that was sitting in front of her. 

  “Alright so, they”, Finn whispered while pointing at the kids, “are Pascal and Celeste’s children. Marc, Adele and well you already met Katie.” 

“What about them?”

“That’s June“, they pointed at the girl painting, ”and her girlfriend Heather. 

The girls turned at the hushed voices. June’s eyes went wide when she saw Finn. She ran towards them and hugged them tightly. 

“June, I can’t breathe.”

“Shut up, you have no say in this”, she said, hugging them tighter. Leo could have sworn he heard Finn’s back crack. 

“June”, Heather grabbed June's waist, trying to pry her off of Finn, “love, they need air”. 

“June, sweetie, I prefer my partners in one piece”, Logan said between giggles. 

June must have decided that Finn had suffered enough, because she let them go,  punching them in the arm right after. “Finn soon-to-be Tremblay, I will only say this one, you disappear like that again and I am hurting you.”

Logan blushed slightly at the name, Finn just laughed. “Heather please control your girlfriend before she murders me.” 

“Why on earth would I do that Finn.”

“Because you like me and would hate to see me dead?”

Leo felt a slight tug at his hair and looked down. Katie was braiding a small piece of his hair. “Hi”. 

Katie looked up at him, “can I braid your hair?” eyes shining with barely suppressed excitement. 

Leo thought about it. He wasn’t used to anyone other than Walburga touching his hair, but how could he say no to such a cute kid. “Yeah”. 

Katie grabbed his hand and brought him over to where Adele and Marc were seated on cushions with a basket of different colored daisies. When Leo sat down the three of them began braiding the flowers into his hair. It was calming, he liked being able to relax into the feeling of someone doing his hair just because they wanted to. Katie, Adele and Marc didn't have ulterior motives to do this, they didn't know, and even if they did Leo doubted they would want to hurt him like Walburga did.

“Hey”- a girl’s soft voice brought him out of his thoughts- “my name is Adele, this is my brother Marc. What’s your name?”

“Leo. It’s nice meeting you”. 

“Why is your hair so long?” Marc said from besides him. He was making a flower crown. 

“My caretaker has never let me cut it.” He tried to keep his tone light. 

Katie hummed, like never cutting your hair was a completely sane decision. “I wish I didn’t have to cut my hair”, she said before going back to placing flowers on Leo’s hair.

“All done”, Adele said as she placed an orange daisy on Leo’s ear. “Come on, let’s go show Lo and Finn.” She pulled Leo by the arm and dragged him over to where Finn and Logan were sitting with June as she continued to paint Heather. 

Katie reached them first. Logan picked her up and sat her on his lap so she could whisper something to him. “We made Leo’s hair pretty.” Logan smiled softly before looking up and seeing Leo. 

Logan’s thoughts stumbled over each other. Different versions of the words beautiful and adorable and lovely running through his mind in both English and French. Finn felt a couple faint taps on their leg, but they didn’t pay any attention to it. Their  mind couldn't focus on anything that wasn't blonde hair, daisies and soft baby blue eyes.  

“What do you think?” Leo asked, twirling so they could have a good view of the braid. Finn made a soft sound while Logan just sighed, a soft smile on his face. 

“You look-”, a dreamy sigh left his lungs, Logan couldn’t find words to describe the way Leo looked. 

“You look amazing”, Finn had a dopey smile on their face.  

“Thank you.” There was a soft blush on Leo’s cheeks, his eyes shining with amusement and something else Logan couldn't recognize. “I think the crown is a nice touch.” 

Finn couldn’t have agreed more with the last statement. The crown on Leo’s head was beautiful. It was made of yellow and purple daisies, and it fit Leo perfectly. Resting gently on his head like a halo. 

Logan watched Leo crouch down in front of Katie so that she could fix the flowers that had gone out of place with a soft look in his eyes. Both Finn and Logan turned towards each other, brown meeting green, a mutual understanding passing between them. 

Leo was great. He was funny and sarcastic and beautiful. Even though they had met Leo less than three days ago it felt like they had known each other for years. Whatever it was that Finn and Logan felt for Leo was right. 

They realized that what they felt about Leo was exactly how they felt about each other. They loved Leo. They didn’t know how they fell for someone they had just met, didn’t know when or why or even what it was that made them fall in love in the first place, but it didn’t matter. 

Finn and Logan loved Leo and it felt right, and if they had learnt anything through the years it was that things like these didn’t follow order. Love was messy and wild and free and so right. 

Finn and Logan loved Leo, they just hoped Leo could love them back.

#finn o'hara #logan tremblay #lumosinlove #o'knutzy tangled au #leo knut #o’knutzy

[namelessayakashi]

For the hug thingy...14👀 merthur

OKOKOK LOOK AHHSHGJFJF I'M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG!!!!!!!! BUT ITS HERE ITS HERE I FINISHED IT

Admittedly, I struggled with it, and I got rly nervous that you wouldn't like it, but I hope you do!!!!!

Fic is below the cut! [I have also posted it on my Ao3!]

Merlin took a deep breath as he leaned against the reception desk of his hospital. It was quiet… Not that he’d dare say it out loud—it felt wrong to even think. He tugged at his scrubs a bit, adjusting them with a frown.

He loved the nightshift as much as he hated it. In his hospital, it was such a coin flip chance of whether they’d be rushed or silent at night.

He found himself immensely grateful for the calm night.

There had been a shift in the air that morning, a tug on his magic, almost a—a call… It was strange, and it made him wonder if maybe… Maybe it was time. Nothing had happened, though, and while he still retained hope, he found it dwindling. Perhaps he had been wrong, perhaps he’d not felt a shift. Maybe it was just his wish to see him again, that made it seem as if it were finally time.

Merlin worried his bottom lip between his teeth and looked over to the clock on the wall. 01:23 A.M.

Right, gods new and old, it was too late… Early, whatever. The sorcerer sighed loudly and turned around to smile at the receptionist.

“Been a long night,” he said in lieu of a greeting.

“Hello to you too, Ambrosius,” the Lady, Cherie, chuckled softly. “You look like shit—no offense, you just look exhausted. Have you taken even a single break this shift?”

“Who needs breaks when you have coffee?” Merlin retorted, winking as he ran a hand through his hair. Ugh, it was dirty. He needed a shower… “I only have five and a half hours left and I’m off. Let’s consider this my break, since I’m not doing anything.”

“Not considered a break when there’s nothing to do anyway,” Cherie raised an eyebrow. “We’ve been basically empty all night.”

“Oh, we talking about the night?” One of the new hires—an intern, if Merlin recalled—chimed in as she walked by, stopping to chat. When Merlin and Cherie nodded response, the younger woman let out a relaxed sigh. “Yeah, it’s so nice! So nice… Can’t believe I got lucky enough to be on rota for such a quiet night. The others are going to be so jealous.”

Merlin inhaled through his teeth, cringing as she spoke, and Cherie let out a small gasp. The intern looked between the two in confusion.

“What? What did I say?”

“Oh, honey…” Cherie murmured, shaking her head slowly. The intern let out a worried noise, her eyes widening.

“What?” She repeated, visibly anxious. Merlin just let out a sigh and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s alright, you didn’t know…” He assured her, before dropping his hand and looking to the doors with a grimace. “You never say quiet in a hospital—I’m afraid you just damned us to a hectic rest of the night.”

Her shoulders droop in disappointment. “That’s a real thing? I thought that was just for drama in television shows… Oh, god, I’m sorry, I didn’t—oh, god, I was just excited.”

“Don’t fret too much, we’ve all been there,” Merlin told her. She looked at him with hope in her eyes, and he couldn’t help but smile. “Go grab yourself a coffee before things get crazy, you’ll need it.”

The intern nodded slowly, and with a final apology, she hurried off to get a coffee. Once she was out of sight, Cherie and Merlin looked at each other once again. The sorcerer chuckled softly, shaking his head.

“I think you made her feel worse, somehow, rather than better,” Cherie told him, raising an eyebrow with a grin. Merlin just shrugged.

“Maybe it won’t even change anything this time,” he suggested, “it doesn’t always, after all. Maybe we’ll get to keep the peace…”

No later than he said it, did they hear sirens approaching. Merlin groaned, dropping his head onto the reception desk. “Damn it all,” he muttered.

Finally, five fifty-seven in the morning, Merlin walked up to reception again. Everything had finally just calmed enough for him to take a break… His magic buzzed beneath his skin, screaming at him for reasons he didn’t know. If he thought he was exhausted before, though…

He barely noticed the shift in the air as he turned to greet Cherie again. He was so tired, though, he didn’t pay it any mind.

“I’m… back,” he yawned, stretching his back out.

Cherie gave him a tired grin. “Welcome back, Merlin. You look even shittier than before.”

“Mm, thanks, I feel shittier than before,” he responded with a smile. As Cherie laughed, Merlin’s brows furrowed in confusion. The air felt off. Stronger than before, almost overwhelming now. His magic was practically vibrating with an eagerness he hadn’t felt in it since…

His breath caught in his throat, and his eyes widened. He absently noted Cherie asking if he was okay and nodded before looking to the ceiling. He knew she couldn’t feel the change, why would she? Merlin refused to turn towards the entrance for fear of not finding what he wished to. Shouting echoed from outside the doors, and his heart leapt in his chest.

It was happening. The time was here. His magic had been right. He could feel it. There was no other explanation! His King had returned… Oh, please let him have returned… He didn’t know if he could take another false alarm.

“Sir! Sir! You need to stop—resisting! We are trying to help you!” Merlin heard a man call in as the door swung open loudly. There was sound of a struggle, and Merlin’s anticipation grew. He looked to Cherie, to see her staring slack-jawed in the direction of the entrance. And then…

“Unhand me! I said, unhand me this instant, you fool! Do you know who I am?!” The forever familiar sound of his native tongue flooded Merlin’s ears, the voice speaking such old words almost more familiar than the language itself. His heart racing, Merlin spun to face the entrance.

His stomach lurched and a borderline hysterical laugh ripped from his throat when his eyes landed on the blond man in full armour, dripping wet, and shouting in Old Brythonic at the A&E entrance. The two policemen holding him by the arms were fighting to keep him restrained as he tried to tear himself from their grip, shouting a plethora of swears Merlin always knew Arthur knew no matter how much he denied it.

Their eyes locked and a relieved grin covered Arthur’s face as he stopped fighting. “Merlin!” He exclaimed, “Merlin, tell these buffoons to release me!”

“What language do you think that is?” Merlin heard Cherie ask. He didn’t answer though, he just grinned widely.

“Let him go, he’s distressed over being restrained, he’s not a danger,” he told the police, trying to keep his voice level. The policemen looked at each other warily, and Arthur gave Merlin a confused look as he spoke. Then, with a shrug each [probably deciding they don’t get paid enough for this], the men holding Arthur’s arms let him go. The King muttered something under his breath and rolled his shoulders back, turning and glaring at the paramedics. He relaxed significantly now that he’d been released, and spotted someone he knew.

Merlin took a shaky breath, thrilled yet close to tears, almost disbelieving his eyes and ears.

“Is it really you?” He asked, holding eye contact with Arthur, his native language rolling off his tongue with ease, despite his years of only being able to speak it to himself.

Arthur nodded slowly, and Merlin barely registered Cherie asking him what was happening. He would have felt bad for ignoring her had his husband not literally just risen form the dead.

“I’m not sure who else it would be,” Arthur responded, and oh… Oh, Merlin missed this, missed him. “Not Gwaine, definitely not Gwaine.”

Merlin let out a laugh, approaching Arthur, shaking his head. “You’re actually here, oh, you’re here!” He placed his hands on Arthur’s face, cupping his cheeks before letting go of him and moving a hand to the pulse point on his neck.

“What are you—”

“Oh, your heart…” Merlin cut him off, his voice a murmur as he fell so easily back into speaking his old, now dead, language. He held his three fingers against Arthur’s pulse, taking a deep breath to compose himself as he felt the steady beat of a heart beneath his hand. Tears stung his eyes despite his will not to cry. He dropped his hand and took a step back to really look at Arthur.

“It’s really beating, you’re really here… Gods, don’t let this be a cruel dream…” Merlin near begged as his eyes scanned his lover’s body, taking in every inch. He was alive.

“Merlin.” Merlin’s eyes snapped back up to Arthur’s face when he said his name, “It’s not a dream, cariad. I promise, I am here, and I am not leaving again. I will never leave you again.”

Merlin’s bottom lip trembled as Arthur opened his arms in a welcoming gesture. He felt the tears threaten to spill, and with a sobbing laugh, he launched himself at his husband, throwing his arms around his neck tightly. Arthur stumbled back slightly with the force of impact. He laughed softly as he regained his balance and wrapped his arms around Merlin’s waist, returning the embrace.

“I have no idea what’s happening, but it feels romantic,” Merlin heard one of the policemen mutter off to the side, in modern day English.

It was only at that moment he processed just how much Arthur was going to have to learn now that he was back. Though, perhaps he could find a spell to help him in the language department… It would make things much easier. Though, he’d have to think of something to tell Cherie later about it all. Ah, that was a problem for future Merlin… He could deal with the witnesses after a few hours with his finally returned King.

“I’m glad to be back—wherever this is,” Arthur muttered, and Merlin finally pulled away from the hug just enough to look at his face. He smiled, genuinely, as a few tears slipped down his face, and pressed their lips together gently. Gods, he missed him so much… When they parted, he let out a sigh and rested his forehead against Arthur’s.

“I’m glad you’re back too…”

#bbc merlin #merlin #arthur #merthur #fic #one shot #modern era #arthur pendragon returns #hug prompts #ask #ask game #fic prompts

[mikauzoran]

Lukadrien: Your Hands Hold Home: Chapter Seventeen

@lukadrien-june

Read it on AO3: Your Hands Hold Home: Chapter Seventeen: Broken Families

“Sup, G Flat,” Xavier-Yves greeted as he descended the stairs into the main cabin of the Liberty.

Adrien grimaced but mentally reminded himself to be nice for Luka’s sake.

“Hi, XY. Luka’s actually not here right now. He’s out with the Capitaine, and I don’t think they’ll be back soon,” he informed, hoping that that would be the end of his exposure to the popstar for the day.

XY shrugged, taking a seat on the opposite limb of the L-shaped couch from Adrien.

“That’s okay,” XY assured as he made himself comfortable, spreading out like a starfish and pulling his laptop out of his bag. “You probably don’t know this because you’re still pretty new here, but I have the okay to just kick it here whenever I want.”

Adrien nodded, internally cursing his lot in life. “I see. That’s cool.”

“Yeppers,” Xavier-Yves agreed, barely paying Adrien any mind as he started up his audio editing program.

Adrien set aside the book he’d borrowed from Luka, seeing that he wasn’t going to get any more reading done in XY’s presence.

“How long do you think you’ll hang out?” Adrien inquired, trying to sound interested rather than rude and impatient for Xavier-Yves to leave.

XY shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe a couple hours? Probably until this evening.”

Adrien mentally swore.

“I’m hiding from my dad,” XY added voluntarily.

Adrien frowned. “Why?”

XY clicked his tongue. “He’s trying to set me up with some actress. You know. For publicity and all that.”

Adrien shuddered. “My father made me do that a couple times. I’ve always hated that kind of thing.”

“Dude, I know!” XY exclaimed, looking up from his computer screen. “Sucks, right?!”

Adrien nodded. “I mean, some of the girls were okay, and I may have even been able to like one or two of them in earnest if we’d met more naturally and it had been our decision to date, but…those arrangements are so staged. I always resented them as just one more thing Father was making me do against my will and completely ignoring my wishes about.”

“Tch. Yeah,” Xavier-Yves scoffed. “Trust me. I hear you.”

Just as suddenly as the conversation started, it ended, and XY seemed to go back to his laptop.

Adrien gave his book a sidelong look, debating whether to take it up to the deck to continue reading in peace.

Before he could come to a decision, XY broke back into Adrien’s thoughts.

“…So…you’re bi or what?”

Adrien gave a start. “What?”

“You said you could have liked some of the girls your dad made you date,” XY explained, “but I always thought you had a thing for Luka…so are you bi or in denial or what?”

Adrien stared at his love rival for a moment, trying to determine whether he should be affronted by XY’s abrupt demands for personal information.

Xavier-Yves looked at Adrien expectantly with seemingly no malice or agenda hidden behind his words.

It was then that Adrien remembered what Luka had told him about XY’s penchant for coming across as rude due to his lack of normal socialization—something Adrien could, unfortunately, relate to.

Adrien decided to take XY’s question in good faith and answered, “I think I’m probably bi.”

XY cocked an eyebrow. “What do you mean you think you’re bi? Isn’t that something you just know?”

Adrien shifted uncomfortably under Xavier-Yves’s scrutiny. “I think it’s confusing because the media really only shows men and women ending up with one another, so that’s how I thought it had to be when I was growing up. I didn’t realize guys were actually an option until later, and I’ve mostly just been interested in girls so far. I mean, I can tell if a guy is attractive, but Luka’s the only guy I’ve ever been attracted to in practice, not just in theory.”

XY blinked several times, trying to parse Adrien’s response. “…So…you’re bi?”

“At least as far as Luka’s concerned,” Adrien confirmed with a shrug.

“You make my head hurt,” XY announced. “You’re just thinking about it too much.”

“Maybe,” Adrien chuckled, musing that XY might have accidentally stumbled upon the truth.

Xavier-Yves shook his head. “I’ve always known I was gay. I never even looked at girls as a kid.”

Adrien’s eyes widened. “I-I’m sorry. I always assumed you were bi. Well…after I found out about your feelings for Luka, anyway. Until then, I thought you were straight.”

XY rolled his eyes and waved dismissively. “That’s because my dad says I have to stay in the closet.”

Adrien’s jaw descended several centimeters. “He what?”

XY nodded, setting his laptop aside and angling more towards Adrien. “My dad says that gay doesn’t sell and that all of my fangirls will stop buying my music and coming to concerts if they find out I only like dudes, so I can’t tell anyone I’m gay.”

Adrien blinked dumbly, finding himself wondering if his own father would react similarly if he found out about Adrien being queer. A lot of people in fashion were, so maybe it wouldn’t be a big deal, but…somehow, Adrien got the feeling that Gabriel would probably prefer it if Adrien kept that fact to himself and found a nice female partner.

“…I’m sorry,” Adrien mumbled, suddenly seeing past the annoying, inconvenient aspects of XY to the very real person with problems and feelings and dreams underneath.

XY shrugged. “Is what it is. Just don’t you go tellin’ people.”

“I would never do that,” Adrien was quick to assure.

XY gave a snort as he nodded. “Good.”

“…So…you’re not allowed to date?” Adrien inquired, morbid curiosity getting the best of him.

XY shook his head. “Nah. Dad would flip. It’s okay, though. I’ve never been really into anyone before, so it was, like, whatever.”

Adrien’s eyebrow arched. “What about Luka? You seem pretty into him.”

“Luka’s different,” Xavier-Yves confirmed with a passionate punch to the words. “He’s the one, you know?”

Adrien dropped his gaze, wilting slightly because he knew that fact all too well.

“I’d come out, if he wanted me to,” XY continued. “I don’t know. Luka’s kind of quiet and private, so I don’t know if he’d want to make it all public, but he’d at least want to tell his friends who he was seeing, so it would get out there eventually. I wouldn’t care, though. He’s worth it.”

“You really care about him a lot,” Adrien whispered.

“You bet I do,” XY insisted. “You know how annoying and dumb I am.”

Adrien’s head jerked up at the blatant self-deprecation.

“Not a lot of people like me. A lot of people pretend to because they want something, but they don’t actually like me,” XY snorted.

Adrien suddenly felt a chill at hearing circumstances that so closely echoed his own.

“Luka didn’t like me at first, and he had a good excuse not to, but instead of telling me to get lost when I came to ask him to teach me about loving music, he put up with me,” XY recounted with a soft look of gratitude and affection in his placid blue eyes.

“He was really patient, and he taught me and helped me be a better person. My dad taught me a lot of bad things.” His eyes dropped to the floor as he confessed his past shortcomings. “I didn’t know they were bad until Luka told me so…so I owe him a lot. I’d do anything for him.”

Adrien nodded passively, averting his gaze as he wondered if Luka wouldn’t be better off with XY than himself.

Xavier-Yves could give Luka fortune and industry contacts, and while “Roth” wasn’t the most well-liked surname in Paris, it was worlds ahead of “Agreste” which had become synonymous with “dirt” a month previously when Papillon’s identity had been revealed.

Maybe Adrien should step aside romantically and focus on being a good, supportive friend to Luka.

“I’d do anything for him,” Xavier-Yves repeated solemnly, “…even if that meant bowing out and supporting his happiness with you.”

Adrien’s head jerked up again, and he gaped at XY in disbelief. “What?”

XY shrugged. “The most important thing is that Luka is happy, yeah?”

Adrien nodded, still not understanding. “Yes. Absolutely. But…what does that have to do with me?”

XY shook his head. “You’re important to him. We’re both really important to him. I can’t tell you how many times he’s asked me to try to play nice with you these past few weeks because he wants us both in his life, and he wants us all to get along.”

Adrien’s lips rounded into a small “o”.

XY nodded. “I want him to be happy. Even if you win, I want him to be happy, so I’m gonna try to be friends with you because it’s important to Luka.”

Adrien slowly began to nod. “Okay. I can’t promise I’ll ever really like you much, but I’m going to tolerate you for Luka’s sake. So, let’s make this work, okay?”

“Deal,” XY agreed with a wide grin, holding out his fist to Adrien for a fist bump.

Chuckling, Adrien leaned forward and touched his fist to XY’s.

“…So,” Xavier-Yves remarked after the moment had passed. “Wanna watch a movie or something?”

Adrien shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

“How good’s your English?” XY asked, grabbing his laptop and opening up his video library.

“Not fluent, but I should be able to watch a movie without subtitles,” Adrien replied, moving to sit next to Xavier-Yves.

XY looked up at Adrien and tipped his head to the side. “You ever heard of Abbott and Costello?”

Adrien frowned, searching his memory banks. “…The comedy duo?”

XY nodded enthusiastically, a wide grin quickly spreading from one cheek to the other. “They’re super dope. You’ll love them. Let’s watch In Society. It’s got one of my favourite routines.”

“All right,” Adrien easily agreed, reasoning that he owed it to Luka and himself to make an effort. “Sounds good.”

 A little over an hour later, Luka returned to find Adrien and Xavier-Yves in a pile on the couch, leaning on one another to keep themselves upright as they chortled, “He’s not dead, Lady! He’s hiding!”

“I see you showed him Abbott and Costello?” Luka remarked, announcing his presence.

XY pushed himself up to grin adoringly at Luka. “Yeah. We were just thinking about watching another. Wanna join us?”

“Sure,” Luka chuckled, coming around to their side of the couch.

Adrien scooted over to make room for Luka between himself and XY.

“After all, it’s not every day that two of my best friends are able to spend time together without wanting to kill one another. We should do something to celebrate,” Luka reasoned.

“We’re not that bad. We just…verbally snipe at each other sometimes,” Adrien giggled, quickly snuggling up to Luka at exactly the same moment XY wrapped his arm around Luka’s shoulders.

“Yeah,” XY seconded. “The only friend of yours I want to kill is that Jacob loser.”

Luka groaned, rolling his eyes.

Adrien lifted his head to look around Luka at Xavier-Yves. “Jacob?”

XY nodded. “That bassist in his band. He’s Luka’s ex.”

Adrien quirked an eyebrow. “We can’t be civil with Luka’s exes?”

XY’s eyes narrowed. “Jacob’s one of the four he slept with.”

“Oh,” Adrien replied flatly, his opinion abruptly changing.

“Yeah. Those ones are dead to me,” Xavier-Yves snorted.

“Can we not talk about my love life?” Luka sighed, tipping his head back to stare up at the ceiling. “It’s really not that interesting. Let’s watch the movie.”

XY clicked his tongue. “I beg to be different. I am super interested in the people you’ve slept with.”

“Prune,” Luka groaned. “Drop it. I’ve been the adult in this household since I was ten. I’m allowed to sleep with whomever my little demi heart loves.”

“Would you sleep with me?” XY wondered curiously.

Luka’s cheeks flushed as he pointedly avoided Xavier-Yves’s gaze. “No comment.”

“Would you sleep with him?” XY pressed, jabbing a finger at Adrien.

Luka choked on air, making a wheezing sound of distress.

“No comment,” he managed with some effort.

“How about a threesome?” Xavier-Yves suggested amicably.

Adrien burst out laughing, snuggling in closer.

“For the love of whatever you hold sacred, start the movie already before I strangle you,” Luka pleaded.

“I could be into that,” XY replied, waggling his eyebrows.

Luka threw his hands up in the air, exclaiming, “Aaaaah!”

This caused Adrien to laugh even harder.

XY joined in.

#Lukadrien #LuXY #Miraculous Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Luka Couffaine #Xavier-Yves Roth #XY #Love Rivals #Fluff #Slow Burn #Friends to Lovers #Pining #Mutual Pining #Broken Families #Lukadrien June 2021 #Writing Prompts #Mikau's Writings #Your Hands Hold Home

[nothisis-ridiculous]

Take Me Home Now: Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen: Teardrop In My Eye

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

"Smith, you are being relieved of duty."

"Sir?" Jane stumbled, her smile turned downward.

The man laughed, clapping her on the shoulder, "only for the day, thought it would get you."

She sneered, "always an ass."

"Though," his green eyes sparkled, it was not settling, "you have company."

Fuck.

She pulled the elastic from her hair, attempting to pull her blonde locks from the day-long wear of a ponytail. In the end, it was pointless, she had thrown it up wet- a braid would have to hide the indent. Jane could do nothing for the simple hoodie and slacks she had thrown into her locker that morning. Forcing herself to take a seat, she pulled in slow breaths until her mind took heed. It was small potatoes.

Gingerly, she finished the jaunt outside of the Human Embassy and combination C-Sec building.

Evelyn slammed into her side, a good three inches added to the kid, "we're going to space!"

"We would have rang, but you know," Roy pointed to his wrist, his smile cautious.

Jane had avoided anything technology-related, she would have done it much earlier in her life if it were not for necessity. This was an old game, the response a sheepish smile. It was an act of avoidance. But she was trying to do the moving on thing: she had an apartment and a stable job. Sure, it was working as a guard for the relay that led to the Citadel, but it was moving in a direction she was comfortable... if not bored doing. It involved a lot of people watching, as using the relay was not the most sophisticated way to the station. The last person had fallen in drunk and almost drowned upon arrival. Now it functioned more as a memorial for all those lost in the war. She kept the peace and that was enough.

"Are you here to visit the Memorial?" Jane jabbed her finger toward the building, it would give her an excuse to spend some time with them. To clear the air.

Rahna suggested she may be ready.

"We're here to see you, silly!" Evelyn cooed, taking the woman's face in her hands, "you're a little less glowy."

"You're a little less short."

Evelyn returned with a moderately careful headbutt. Helen didn't look too approving as the child sauntered away but cracked a grin. Roy still couldn't manage a full smile.

Jane needed to clear another thing.

"What did you need me for?" she was careful, trying not to let the statement come out in a bark. These visits would always end in the same question, and it was getting harder to say no.

"We're hoping you'd watch our place while we are gone, " Helen finally chimed in, the stern look had softened over months. The strange silence between them never improved much, "we know it's sudden, but if we didn't have to go through Rahna to-"

"Helen," Roy soothed.

"We got it all approved, and we'd even pay you on top of it."

"I'm sure the beam won't miss you-" he paled at his words.

"I'm sure Harold won't miss you-" Roy tried to diffuse Jane's bubbling before it could erupt. The hand on her elbow gripped tighter as she tugged away. It devolved to his full strength pulling around her as she screamed, pleading that they didn't take the Reaper away. Bargaining became a barrage of hate and seething words, still, he held his recruit tightly until she collapsed.

If it was once, the guilt might have faded.

But Jane was stubborn, requiring steady arms until the derelict ship was nothing but an imprint in the ground. The woman didn't leave the crater left behind for the next day, her gaze avoiding him at all costs.

Jane looked up, if only to avoid the sudden turn of emotion, "I suppose it wouldn't."

When this is over, I'm going to be waiting for you. You'd better show up.

Don't get me wrong, I'm gonna fight like hell for the chance to hold you again.

"Is that a yes?"

His evident enthusiasm worked a giggle from the blonde, "it would probably do me good to get out of this city. I heard the English Bay is nice." Jane offered out a hand to him.

Roy swallowed her into a tight embrace, disregarding if the simple gesture was out of forgiveness or striking a deal. It had been far too long, and his recruit been left far too long without proper fatherly affection. Or he was giddy from good news, it was hard to tell.

"When do we need to leave?"

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Jane examined the scattering of personal items in the apartment. Living light on military ships (excepting pets) followed her through to civilian life. Everything she owned could fit into a footlocker without fancy folding. A knife for whittling if she got bored. Shower supplies, her underwhelming supply of clothing, the M-77 because why not. But her eyes stopped on her bedside.

A blank picture frame and the chit to an omnitool would be innocuous to anyone else. It was everything in the world she refused to touch but couldn't look away from. Was it love for her own misery? Or owning up to herself. That other person knocked. She wasn't ready. Couldn't she be ready?

Her fingers graced over the chit, watching it light and unfold. The device would only unlock for an authorized user, and somehow she was that user. Anderson's face popped in on the screen. The panicked expression was no longer a surprise as he searched for something out of shot from the recording, but his eyes eventually returned to the device.

"Shepard, I-"

Jane cut it off, the device flickering away as quickly as it formed. It was two words further than the last attempt. It would have to count as progress.

The picture frame came next, but not even a jolt of power betrayed a change. It was empty, devoid. Still, as if it was familiar, her thumb caressed over the glass surface.

"Kaidan, I-"

Jane's throat seized, the name was still hard to form, "eight hundred and fifty-one days. Tomorrow will mark eight hundred and fifty-two days."

She had long surpassed the days he had in waiting for her not to be dead. She had kept her promise. She had waited, was waiting. Now, Jane had to go. The landlord given notice, her job with a note of apology attached to a resignation letter. Jane felt afraid.

"I'm sorry."

The picture flickered to life, the bubbling of the tank behind her a dull murmur. It took a few rounds, but she settled into the chair, staring at the frame like it was supposed to do something. Her ear tilted for the door, hoping that it would slide open. Wasn't that how the time before a suicide mission was supposed to go? A last-minute confession, sex to blow off some steam before the genuine threat of death.

Mary was waiting, nor would she question the miracle that would have to bring him here.

"Shepard, I could patch you through," Edi chimed in gently.

Slow breathing, counting, clenching her jaw and releasing it kept her busy for five minutes before she let herself consider it. It was her way to leave him on unread, but is that how she wanted to go out again? Was that immaturity the memory she wanted to leave for Kaidan? In the same thought, a call wasn't mature either, but if she died the shame would be short-lived after all. She wanted nothing more than to hear his voice, to feel something akin to comfort. Mary was afraid.

"Edi, send the c-"

Her tool blipped, "I've already programmed a block."

"Thank you, Edi."

Mary fawned over the code, re-entering it several times until she felt a little less panicked. The first attempt ended a few counts after the tool attempted the connection. She shouldn't. What could her greed jeopardize?

She settled back in her chair, sending herself through another wave of madness. The email running through her mind again. She didn't want that to be the last thing she heard from him. Besides, what was he to Cerberus if she was gone? Her greed entered the number again, this time it patched through. Connecting, connecting, connecting until it timed out.

Mary held back on questioning Edi.

She waited again, promising herself this would be the last try. 'Connection' scrawled on the screen within seconds.

"Hello?"

Kaidan's voice was groggy, his rasp evident that he had just woken wherever he was.

"Hello?" he tried again, with mild frustration.

"Look, this is a secured-," he spat, but his voice dropped, "if this isn't- if this- dammit."

The voice waited, but Mary was frozen. She hadn't planned a word, this was a terrible idea. Stupid.

"This is a little insane," he let out a small chuckle, "and will look bad if this just ends up on the extranet. But, just in case," he paused again, pulling in a steadying breath, "if it's what, who, I think it is. Really, the Omega 4 relay? I-I thought Ilos was bad, that is a whole new level of-"

Kaidan cut himself off, waiting, questioning if he should continue. But it made a strange kind of sense. Who else could it be? She wouldn't call unless it were dire.

"Whatever you are doing, be careful. The galaxy needs you back, I ne- just, be careful."

Both parties lulling to sleep at the memory.

Jane set the frame down, it could be a gift for the next tenant. Perhaps they could program it with something/ The chit slipped into her pocket, her gaze winding to the door. She waited, shook her head, and swept up the handles of the black footlocker. Again, Jane stared at the door. Praying for a miracle.

The rigors of hauling the footlocker at a clipped pace down several flights of stairs did nothing to stop the shaking. Echoes of footsteps turned into the voices of her crew, the bad, the ugly, and all of the good memories. Garrus's mandible quivering in silent frustration as she made the shot atop the presidium, Tali's indignation at the 'induction port' as she tried to slip it into her suit. Liara always deep in thought, scanning over the work of the Shadow Broker, Javik who never got his wish of dying with the rest of his kind. Vega's shock as she decimated his pull-up record, and Edi taking up Joker's hand in a quiet moment. Tears splattered on the steps. Was this the end?

She couldn't stop them as she stepped into the light of day, awaited by three figures.

"That's all?" Roy huffed, taking the luggage from her.

Helen placed a hand on her shoulder, "it will get easier."

The older woman forced Jane to look her in the eyes, dark brown meeting blue, "you should make the call."

"But you-"

"You know Roy won't let it go until you're all settled."

The LT was always worried about her, even if they weren't on speaking terms. Jane knew all she had to do was reach out, but the pang of guilt was too much. It was always this way, and her soul grew tired of the mind that housed it.

This was a horrible way to treat the family that kept coming back for her months after they had returned home to Vancouver. They kept worrying when she struggled to care about herself. They kept asking her to return home with them, to give her a new life. They hadn't stopped loving her after every no, despite her asinine rigidity to an old promise. Despite the lingering secrets she barely kept from them. Jane was sick of herself, too.

Jane nodded, pulling in a deep breath.

"It will get better," Helen murmured, "after you've taken the time to be pissed off for a while."

She didn't fight a grin, nodding again just to make sure she was assured. Leaving the woman to enter the room her fingers didn't hesitate this time. Entering the code she had memorized too long ago.

Three calls later- silence was her answer.

Unable to save face, Jane stormed past Helen.

"I'm sorry for how I left last time," her head hung, but this time she returned the touch, briefly touching the hand on her shoulder.

The older woman shrugged, pointing her at the shuttle.

Jane nodded, wasting no further time by sliding into the back. Evelyn chattered into her ear; Jane tried to keep paying attention but found her mind wandering. The familiar stirring of her stomach starting within moments of take-off. She had grown a little used to a hardsuit that would deliver the meds into her system.

The paper bag landed in her hands without a word.

The vehicle fell silent, save for the buzzing of the radio-

"The Normandy returns to the Citadel after a Victory run spanning over-"

"The Normandy is back?" Jane bleated meekly through the bag.

"Oh- yeah! Our son made it," Roy smiled, but it was partially forced, "sounds like this 'Shepard' wasn't so lucky."

Jane's stomach emptied into the bag, Happy Birthday Shepard.

#fshenko #shenko #kaidan alenko #mass effect fanfiction #take me home

[ofmythsandmadness]

laughing like there’s any other answer (part two)

part two to ‘laughing like there’s any good reason to smile’.

SUMMARY - maybe he should have ignored the voices above his room. pretended he was sleeping, or out, or mysterious murdered and unable to acknowledge that she was back, drunk again, and still laughing. but alas, the heart wants what it wants and it rarely thinks things through.

WARNINGS - egregious usage of the word ‘toothpaste’ at one point, some foul language, the avoidance of a lot of questions. one mention of throwing up (but it’s v quick and literally just two words and we skate past it, nothing graphic). also, poor onomatopoeia usage, as though i wasn’t an english fanatic in high school. WORD COUNT - 3790. diego hargreeves x female insert.

A/N - this was meant to be just a quick happy writ. and now it’s a bittersweet (more bitter than sweet) mess that’s just making this story more complicated, haha. but it’s fine, she says, nervously laughing like she hadn’t just mucked up the singular happy piece she’s ever written.  i’m not sure how i’m doing, thanks for asking. :)

“IT’S ALL SO STUPID, DIEGO, BECAUSE PEOPLE COULD LIKE YOU.”

After the events of last week, Diego was certain he would never see her again.

Maybe he’d see her, but not her, her. Not the drunk-off-her-ass, mumbling about nonsense and threatening to throw herself out of cars woman, who laughed like she hadn’t a care in the world and called him really dumb, nonsensical nicknames for no reason at all. The one that he couldn’t get out of his head, no matter what he did; she haunted him even without being dead, and he was honestly impressed because that was a hard gift to master so fast.

 No, that was a rare sighting of a weird miracle - like a double rainbow, just way less exciting and hopeful.

But as the week progressed, he had not heard from her at all. She was a ghost. He couldn’t find her anywhere, not at least where she would normally be. Diego was certain she wasn’t dead, because he would have heard about that, but apart from the most morbid of options, he was out of clues as to where she could possibly be.

He had not been sure how he felt about that. At first, the absence of her presence was a nice break, and he could do as he pleased without any arguments  - but as the days went on and his dreams about the other night got stronger, he found himself curious. More than curious; worried. He didn’t want to have their last conversation be that bullshit.

“I like you, you know that?”

A week after they last spoke, and Diego was trying his very best to not care. It was a Tuesday, and Tuesdays were the days he ‘got off’. The stolen - ahem, borrowed - police scanner sat beside him, crackling every so often, but it didn’t say much more than the usual, professional bullshit that didn’t need his input on. He’d wait the night out, see if anything exciting happened, but he had a feeling it’d be a quiet night.

Diego stared at the punching bag in front of him, watching it sway every so gently. Sometimes he imagined a face on it, most times he didn’t, it was just fun to hit and slash. He probably shouldn’t, the little shits were expensive and Al hated his ass already, but-

THWANK.

To hell with it, anyways.

Two more knives joined their friends, quivering. But they didn’t stay long; Diego yanked them out of the soft flesh of the bag, groaning as he sank back down onto the chair. He threw them again, and then again, creating a sad pattern he often enjoyed after the work was done.

THWANK.

The silver metal glinted in the lamplight, cold and bright. The tip dug into the pad of his index finger; he ignored it and twirled the knife anyways.

THWANK.

An old song played in the back of his mind. He didn’t remember the words, but he remembered enough for it to be annoying as hell, repeating the few phrases over and over like a broken record. Diego tried to think of something else, replace the half-assed memory, and yet still the song played on. His only option was to try to listen to anything else, anything at all, but -

-THWANK.

It was quiet in the gym. The only people there were Al and himself, and neither were making much noise. He only knew the former was still there because of his groaning footsteps as he walked the worn wood above Diego’s head, and the occasional curse thrown out like a bullet towards nothing in particular. But the music of the daytime was gone, and with it had gone the hubbub of conversations, grunts and groans and whatever else atmospheric nonsense he normally got.

THWANK.

He didn’t like the quiet much. And he certainly did not like it then, with the stupid song stuck - why couldn’t he remember the name of it, or anything about it? Just a couple bars of an oldie he didn’t even like...some name with an ‘F’, maybe. A shithead singing out his poor heart for a love never returned back to him...why couldn’t there be any other song stuck?

Diego groaned and threw another knife. He poised another in his long fingers, twirling the handle without much thought before pulling back and -

“-what the hell don’t you get, huh?”

He froze. The knife fell from his hand; he fumbled to pick it up a second later, awkward and absent-minded. So focused on whatever Al was bitchin’ about then, he hardly realised he had squeezed too hard, and then-

“-OW!”

Diego roared with all the sound of a mouse, throwing himself off the chair and towards the small bathroom. The wound wasn’t deep, but it stung bright red and painful, scratching out his stupidness across his tender palm. He should have been more careful, he was always so careful with the things-

“-look...I know he’s here, mister!”

He paused again, scratch forgotten. That definitely was not Al.

“I don’t giv’a crap. We’re closed.”

“Uh...so why is this sign saying it’s open?”

“What - no, you just did that!”

Diego could scream. He would scream, if he wasn’t going to lose his job and home to Al’s pissed off ass - but he definitely, really wanted to, frustration bouncing around in his head like a toddler with a tantrum. Gone were all the thoughts of where Y/N was; all he could think about then, was stopping Y/N as soon as he possibly could.

He hurriedly wrapped gauze around his bleeding palm (which really didn’t do much, it just made the wound look worse) and left the bathroom. Taking the stair steps two at a time, it took him merely thirty seconds to get up to the main area.

“What the hell’s going on?” 

“Ah - see, I knew you had him hidden away somewhere!”

Al spun around and fixed his glare on Diego. “You know this lunatic?”

He sighed and nodded (not because he wanted to, but because he had to - there was no way she would walk away from this quietly). “Yeah, I know her. I’ll take care of it, Al.”

“You know, I put up with every single one of your stupid stunts, but I don’t appreciate-”

“-yeah, yeah, I know. I know,” Diego nodded, pretending to listen without hearing a single word of his boss’ speech. “I got it. C’mon.”

Y/N perked up then and stumbled over to him with the biggest smile he might have seen her ever wear in his whole life. If he wasn’t so pissed off…

“What happened to your hand, dear boy?”

He quickly retracted his grip, hiding the injured limb from her sight. “Nothin’.”

“Diego, I’m not stupid.”

“You sure? Cause turning up here, in the middle of the goddamn night on a Tuesday-”

-she yanked her arm away from his tight grip and carried on without him. Even as he protested and hurried behind her, somehow she remained faster, racing down the stairs with the grace of a newborn deer. All limbs and stumbles, but not a care in the world as she shouted something back at him he couldn’t quite catch.

“You can’t just be here.”

“And why not? I mean, you’ve shown up at my place without-”

“-that’s different.”

She stopped then and turned just as he reached her. Both chests heaved, and her eyes darted about his face as though piecing together a mosaic. He just watched her.

“And why is it different, my dainty...dear...Diego?”

“I...I-”

“-gotcha,” she whispered, before pushing the door in with a laugh. “Gotcha, ha - you just got beat by me - how does that feel? How does that feel?”

Diego groaned. “You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re a loser,” she crowed back. But her interest quickly strayed from him, eyes tracing the walls of the tiny space. “You know, I’ve never been here before.”

“Yeah, well-”

“-I like it! I was worried it’d suck total ass, but honestly, out of aaaall the guys’ rooms I’ve seen, this...this is pre-tty close to the top.”

He wasn’t sure whether to take it as a real compliment or not, but at least she didn’t seem interested in a response. It gave him the chance to head back into the bathroom and collect the gauze he had left all over the ground.

“Don’t you have,” he grunted, peeling off the fabric to reveal the sliced palm underneath, “work tomorrow?”

“Work, shmork.”

His teeth gritted. It wasn’t a bad cut, not at all - but it always had to be the shallowest that hurt the most. “Thought you were married to that shit.”

“We’re getting a divorce.”

“Holy shi-give a man a warning,” he retorted, stepping back as much as he could. Though, in the tiny bathroom, there wasn’t much of that - the backs of his legs hit the shower curtain, and she just looked on with a sloppy smile and lidded eyes. “How’d you move so quietly--”

She waved off his question and pushed into the tiny room. “You’re gonna make a mess, trying to deal with that. Let me, loser.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Tipsy. And I’ve got the hands of a surgeon, with or without,” she grinned, refusing even the slightest rebuttal in her triumphant claims. Without any hesitation, she reached for the bottle of peroxide and promptly poured it down his hand like it was water off a duck’s back. Her expression didn’t shift when Diego shouted in pain; she just kept up the swift work with his hand as her hostage.

“You’re a dick.”

“And you’re a little baby.”

“Rude.”

She stuck her tongue out his way.

“You don’t need to-ow,” he hissed, when the gauze tightened too far against his palm. “I could have done it, asshole.”

Y/N’s smile slipped a little at that, and for a moment she didn’t respond; her hands just worked the white bandages around his own, and pressed it together. Finally, once the task was done though, her eyes lifted to his again.

“Sometimes, we need the most help, even when we insist on the opposite.”

“What’s that s’posed to mean?”

She shrugged. “Dunno. I might have made it up. But it sounded real nice, didn’t it?”

Diego just nodded. 

“Can I…” her breath hitched, and somehow, she got even closer than before; he could make out every individual lash glint in the bathroom light, and the way her lips were swollen and a little bruised - he guessed from the constant worrying between her teeth. “Can I ask you a question, Diego?”

He nodded again. 

Her hand ever so lightly grazed over his own; fingers tracing up with the delicacy of a flower. “Do you…”

His breath caught in his throat. Gone were all the frustrations at her of before; all he could think about was her, on repeat in his mind like an EDM song, blaring her name as explosions echoed in the distance. Wasn’t it just seconds before, that she was torturing him with peroxide? Why couldn’t he think about anything but her eyes, and lips, the way she just -- 

“W-what?”

“Do you have any toothpaste?”

Diego blinked, then again, unsure if he had just misheard her. “What?”

“Toothpaste. Y’know, the shit ta clean your teeth?” Her head cocked, her eyes singing laughter, “don’t tell me those pearlies are magic-”

“-I have toothpaste - why the hell do you need toothpaste?”

Once more, she looked like she was in on a joke he just didn’t get. “To brush my teeth with...duh. You think I’m just gonna scrub my tongue with a plain toothbrush? Jeez, Diego, how-”

-he cut her off with a grunt that really didn’t sound like any word in the English language and swung past. In the back of his head, he was murdering his subconscious and wishing the idiot would stop acting for itself.  “Here,” he said, passing her the tube. “Knock yourself out.”

Y/N’s smile grew wider. “Kinky. But I’d rather just brush my teeth.”

“Jes-what does that even mean?!”

Diego, sadly, would never find out. He was left to simply watch her cross the room again, brandishing the tube with great pride in search of her purse - “I threw up on the way here,” she explained, “and I had my toothbrush, but no toothpaste! And I remembered, Diego has nice teeth, and obviously toothpaste is a necessity, so he must have toothpaste! I think that’s why I told the guy to drop me here, actually.”

“There - you know you’re making no sense, right?”

She shrugged, swooping past where he still stood again. She pulled a toothbrush out of its thin black case and started applying his toothpaste. He watched her, unsure what to do as she took over his bathroom and mumbled through an intense brushing session. Before he could even try to understand her, though, he realised something.

“Do you just carry around a toothbrush, wherever you go?”

Her motions paused for a second before resuming. It was so quick, a normal person would have just skipped right over it, but Diego gripped tight to maybe his only clue towards his personal investigation as to ‘what the hell she was doing there, and why’.

“I - I mwearn,” she paused, spitting out and resuming her brushing, “I dwown’t arwawys - swowry, wone swec.”

He waited.

“Sorry. I was saying, I don’t always have a toothbrush on me, but I did today, I had to pick up my stuff and I guess I just left this little guy in my bag. Which was lucky, right?”

Diego ignored her end question and pressed on. “Where were you picking up your stuff from? You’re moving?”

“Oh, ha - no, nothing like that. Just from a friend.” With a snap, the toothbrush had returned to its case and she was yet again pushing right past. That time, though, Diego followed.

“A friend?”

“You do know the definition of that word, right? I can-”

“-a friend that makes you get wasted after visiting with?”

Y/N pushed herself up her leaning, hands clutched tight to her tiny bag. Her smile still remained, but it wasn’t the easy one of just moments before; it was strained, forced onto unwilling cheeks like a suit of armour.

“I’m not wasted, dear, dapper, Diego. Far from it. If I was wasted, I’d be so much stupider than I am right now. I mean, I can-”

“-this the same friend from last week, too?”

“What? What are you-” Y/N swallowed. Her eyes slipped from his to her purse, watching her hands scrabble at the silver handle like it was her last lifeline. “Are you - I don’t get this routine, dude. I just needed toothpaste! I hate bad breath, don’t you?”

Diego stepped over and grabbed her hands in his uninjured one, pausing the frantic picking at the bag. It dropped with a solemn thud; neither looked down to it. 

“What was that for?” She asked, quiet that time.

“You’re not here cause you needed toothpaste.”

“Do you want me to reimburse you for it? Cause I think I might have a dime somewhere, I don’t know how much you want but I’ll pay you back for the tiny, TINY amount of your precious paste I used.”

Diego groaned. For a moment, that flash of frustration flared up again and he was tempted to give up this at all. But it was easily quelled when he looked up again, seeing the worried look she badly covered up with a smile.

“Why’re you here, Y/N?”

“What d’y…” her bottom lip was tugged up into the grasp of her hungry teeth; they worried and nibbled without relief. “D’you want me to go?”

“No. No, I don’t want you to go.”

“Then just let it be, darling,” she sang softly, “and let’s let the toothpaste incident die.”

“No, cause…” his hand pressed softly into her palm, intertwining their fingers with a gentleness he himself didn’t know he possessed. “This is the second time now, you’ve come or called me after getting drunk off your ass, which really isn’t your style. I mean, you’re a freakin’ workaholic. It’s a Tuesday night. You’d be fast asleep right now.”

Her eyes shifted to just behind him, avoiding his soft stare. “You been stalking me or somethin’, my dear?”

“No, but I know you. You’re too caught up in making sure everyone thinks you’re Miss Perfect to be late for shit. Let alone hungover.”

“Well…” she sighed, a sad little sound that barely echoed from her own lips. She seemed to contemplate his words, tossing them over before throwing them away and moving right along.  “You really think of me like that? You think everyone does?”

Diego frowned. “Like what?”

“Miss Perfect? Miss - miss -” her hand grew a little clammy in his grasp; she was getting nervous, and he supposed the alcohol wasn’t helping. “-you think of me as a stick in the mud, Diego? I’m not interesting or exciting, just a plain Jane who-”

“-I think you’re fascinating,” he murmured, even without thinking. He almost regretted the words the second they slipped from his mouth; her gaze snapped to his, wide-eyed and confused, and he could just see the cogs working behind her head. He wasn’t even sure where the words came from, or why they had - he hadn’t thought about anything past getting our where she was, and yet…

“You don’t even like me.”

Diego sighed and held her hand a little tighter. His injured palm came to rest over them, squeezing even with the twinge of pain. “Course I like you. You said that last week.”

“Did I?” She laughed, but it was shrill and pitiful. A mere shell of the glorious sounds that had filled his car days prior; if he hadn’t pressed every sound to his memory permanently, he’d have never known she was the same person. “I - doesn’t sound like me. Are you pulling my leg, Diego?”

He ignored her awkward question, pressing on. “That was the first time I’ve ever heard you laugh. You know that? And we’ve known each other for a while.”

“I’ve laughed before, dummy.”

“That’s - those - those’re bullshit laughs, professional garbage,” he responded, each word growing a little bit stronger. “I heard you laugh your ass off to nothing at all in my car last week, and it was be...n-nice. That’s the shit I know that’s real. Not this game you’re playin’ with yourself.”

Y/N still wouldn’t look at him, no matter how he pressed against her hand, or stared her down. Her eyes rested on a space past him, but they grew sadder by the second, losing that little spark of drunken happiness she had forced to build before. 

“The Y/N I know,” Diego continued, made bold by a feeling he didn’t recognise, “doesn’t take shit from anybody. You don’t think twice; you just do. You trust your gut and it’s almost always right. Sure, sometimes you screw up, but…”

“...not sometimes, dear. Always.”

“No, not-”

“-dear me, I don’t know why I came here,” she muttered, and within a single pull, she was free and pushing away from him. “Sorry, Diego, I mean - it’s a Tuesday! You’ve got your little black-leather Batman fantasy and I’ve got work tomorrow. You know, I’ve been prepping for this meeting and it’s going to be good, I just need to finish those blasted points…”

She rattled on about nothing at all, repeating phrases and half-mumbling the words as she gathered her dropped belongings up. Her jacket, the bag that had fallen between them before, and something he couldn’t quite catch that had slipped out with it.

And Diego, stupidly, just watched.

“You be careful, okay? And-” she paused then, swaying ever so slightly in the windless room, “-just watch yourself. It’s a shitty world, and I can’t have the one person that - that - well, I don’t know where I’m going with this thought, it’s going to stop now. Ha...yeah, no. Just be safe, and make sure you get your six to nine hours or whatever bull...shit…” A sob ended the sentence, soft and sad and joined right after by a loud sniffle.

Diego still watched in silence.

“I know you don’t like me,” she muttered, voice growing raspy from presumably, tears building behind shitty defenses, “and that’s okay. But I...I appreciate you putting up with me. You’re a good guy, Diego. And that’s good. That’s nice. I think you might just be the last goddamn nice guy in this whole city...hm. Should get you a medal, or something. That’d make a good t-shirt…”

He watched her cross and head up the stairs, staggering on one but regaining her balance quickly. And just as she opened the door-

“-you can’t go home by yourself.”

Y/N stopped still and took in his words. She nodded slowly. “Sure...you’re...um, yeah. I’ll call my si...or...my friend, she’s at my place so...uh-huh.”

“C’mon, I’ll just-”

“-you’ve done enough for me tonight, dear,” she smiled, and he could just make out the glint of a tear on her cheek. “Let’s see if your boss won’t do me a favour, too.”

“Y/N.”

She mock-glared, though the expression wasn’t held long. “Diego - see, I can do that too.”

“Let me take you home.”

“This is good, trust me. I’ll...she has my car, so I’ll just call it in. I’ll be gone in four shakes of a scout’s tail, or…that’s not right.” She smiled. “Doesn’t matter. Thanks for the toothpaste, darling boy.”

“B-be safe...”

“I will,” she promised, still smiling like there was any reason to. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to waste anymore of your time, not going to make you have to save me...yeah. See you, Diego.”

She shut the door then, leaving him alone in the heavy silence.

Moments later, he heard the familiar voices above him again.

“Sir, sorry, if you don’t mind…”

“Great Scott, girl - did he do this to you?!”

“Oh, Diego? No, he’s a lovely boy and he was actually being very sweet, I just...I was just thinking about my grandma, and I...I need to make a call?”

The conversation continued, with Al trying his best to console Y/N, and her repeating - even on the phone - that she would be just fine, and that ‘she was awfully sorry for her behaviour, she’s not really the sort to play such sad pranks but desperate times called for bad measures’. Eventually, then, the voices faded, with her wishing him a cheery goodbye and footsteps clunking against the ceiling.

And it was only as her steps died into silence and the door clanged shut, that Diego unfroze from his standing position and realised what a deep, deep, ‘idiot’s only’ grave he had just dug for himself.

#the umbrella academy x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves oneshot #tua x reader #diego hargreeves reader insert #part two

[itsmyara]

About That Night... (Hisomachi Fanfic)

Note: Another translation, though my English is not that great ^^’. It’s 3532 words NO SMUT! I hope you’ll enjoy it.

Pairing: Hisoka/Machi

Summary: Hisoka realized that he was still analyzing her for a reason other than trying to investigate the possible sources of her drunkenness. He was mesmerized by the way emotions were running free in her face, something he had never seen before.

Warning: Drunk!Machi, Jealous!Hisoka, Alcohol, Mentions of Drugs, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Getting Sick, Passing Out, Hangover, Mild Language.

[Link to AO3 in English] 

[Link to AO3 in Brazilian Portuguese]

Her body moved insanely under the colorful lights of the room to the sound of a repetitive and irritating electronic beat. Although she was dressed much more discreetly than the other girls in the club, wearing simple jeans and a black tank top, she drew attention and caused a small audience to gather around her. Dancing with a big, strong man covered in tattoos and looking like a local crime boss, she moved boldly and sensually, with a loose laugh that occasionally lit up her face.

"Is this just alcohol effect or did she use something else?" Hisoka questioned the man standing next to him, without taking his eyes off Machi on the dance floor.

The tattooed man's hand slid down her small body and slipped under the black tank top, pressing her waist against him while his mouth whispered something in her ear that made her laugh. Hisoka's fists clenched hard.

Illumi shrugged before answering the question in a monotone voice:

"I don't know, she was already like this when I arrived, so I called you. She's dancing with my target and it doesn't look like she's going to leave him anytime soon. So I called you. I figured you wouldn't want it to be me taking her out of there."

Hisoka moved his eyes to face the ever-so-cold colleague. He was right. If he used his methods against Machi, even if it was just to get her out of the way, he would have to make a little reckoning with him. But the assassin was smart. Illumi decided to turn the situation around and, by calling Hisoka, he won himself a favor to collect later.

When the magician looked back at the pink-haired woman, he saw the tattoed man leading her towards a door in a reserved corner of the nightclub.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Illumi observed the scenario calmly and then turned away, unconcerned.

"Just remember that no matter what he does to your girl. He is my target and I need him alive. I will wait outside."

Hisoka responded with an annoyed snort before walking in the opposite direction of his friend. The bloodlust that exuded from the magician made people open the way naturally, looking suspiciously at the strange man who carried a macabre look on his face.

He unceremoniously kicked down the door to the private room, much to the surprise of some people who ran away, but not Machi. She has been waiting for him, even though she was pressed against the wall by the other man's body. She could be intoxicated, but her perception would never fail to notice Hisoka's bloodlust.

Hisoka leaned against the damaged door frame, crossing his arms casually as he faced the scene in the room by the half-light.

"Oh, am I interrupting something?" He asked wryly.

The tattooed man immediately released Machi and faced him without fear.

"What's up, clown? This one is mine now, if you want the leftover you'll have to wait outside."

Hisoka laughed shortly. The man had given the worst answer he could when he was so obviously in a risky position. He was nothing between the two nen users — even though one of them was intoxicated — and the only difficulty the magician faced was being forced to use only his fists to bring down the thug. He didn't like having to control himself that way, not when he wanted to end the existence of someone so weak and unwary, but he would have to leave that to Illumi.

Machi only seemed to understand the situation completely when the man was already lying on the floor unconscious, and Hisoka was heading to her with an enigmatic smile.

"You could have chosen someone stronger, you know? This is almost an insult..."

"What are you doing here? After everything you’ve done, you decided to follow me?"

Even though the place was dark, Hisoka could see her cheeks flushed. Her eyes shone with tears and her lips swollen, red, and moist; probably as a result of the kisses she shared with that useless guy. He took a long time to analyze it, for a moment believing that it was because he had to determine if she was under the influence of a drug other than alcohol.

His hands grabbed her face, and the only reaction she had was to hold his arms as if she was going to try to stop him, but she didn’t actually apply enough force to it.

"I'm too busy to follow you, ok? But when a little bird tells me that you're out there screwing up, I have to act, don't I?"

Machi laughed sadly, her chest shaking almost quietly between them, and Hisoka realized that he was still analyzing her for a reason other than trying to investigate the possible sources of her drunkenness. He was mesmerized by the way emotions were running free in her face, something he had never seen before.

"You think I'm weak, Hisoka..." she murmured under her breath, and then in a burst, she pulled his hands away from her face and pushed him away. "Do you think I need you to defend me from this ?" She pointed to the dead weight on the floor and then laughed sadly again.

Actually, he was defending her from Illumi, who wouldn't be so patient with her drama, but Hisoka resigned himself to smile in response, making her snort.

"I hate you!"

There was a very sincere feeling in those words, which came out of her mouth as if they were ripping her up. This made Hisoka lean his head in curiosity. However, Machi simply looked at him from head to toes in disbelief before turning away and stumbling out of that room, pushing one or the other person off her way and randomly stealing a drinking glass from one of them as she headed to the exit.

Hisoka sighed, grabbing the unconscious man by the hair and dragging him along while he went behind the woman. He caught up with Machi near the door, where even the security guards had already moved away. Without saying a word, he wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her off the floor, carrying her out despite her protests.

"This is yours," Hisoka declared as he threw the unconscious body at Illumi’s feet.

The body that writhed and struggled, trying weakly to attack Hisoka without ceasing, was his.

"Do you want some help with her?" Illumi offered, watching the woman's wildness with some curiosity.

"No, she has the right to protest. When she gets tired, she'll see that this is in her best interest."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here, you wretch! Fight me like a man! I'm going to kill you with my bare hands!"

Between punches and kicks, Hisoka just waved a greeting to Illumi and went on his way.

[...]

When he crossed the threshold of his hotel room, Machi was less savage in his arms. In fact, at some point along the way, she had given up attacking him and started just pouring out words about him being a traitor, about Chrollo, and even something about Pakunoda's death. Some of her words actually made sense, but the state she was still in, which seemed to get worse by the second, made any response from him useless.

Therefore, in the face of silence, Machi finally burst into tears before reaching their destination, and Hisoka thought it was best to cradle her properly in his arms so that when they crossed the door she was being carried like a bride, but a tearful one against his chest.

When he tried to accommodate her on the couch, she clung more tightly to his shoulders, as a clear sign that she didn't want to part at that moment.

"Oh? I thought you hated me," he declared with a playful laugh.

"Why do you have to be like this?"

Her voice was so heartfelt that he couldn't help but sigh before settling on the couch with her in his arms. Machi wouldn't remember any of that the next day, which is why he stopped to think for a few seconds about what she just said. He knew that she was not referring to his jokes, but to the fact that he had lied for years and, in the end, revealed a goal that clashed with her own completely. If it weren't for that, maybe she wouldn't have to hate him that much.

She finally looked up and, not without effort, focused her reddened eyes on his. Hisoka looked at her expression legitimately surprised. He could expect hatred and tears on her part, but the way she looked at him now was... sweet. For some reason, he was sure that if he kissed her now, despite anything that preceded this moment, what he would taste on her lips would be something so deep and meaningful that, yes, it scared him.

That's why he didn't kiss her, allowing her to break the silence:

"You're spinning..." Machi murmured, and then laughed in a silly way, breaking the magic as well. "You're spinning and you're not going to tell me anything, are you? You're not even here, I'm imagining you," she put her face back on his shoulder. "At least you smell good…"

"Machi, what did you use?" Hisoka knew he probably wouldn't get a coherent answer, but that doubt had haunted him since the moment he saw her that night. It was hard to believe that only alcohol would do that to a woman as strong as her. There had to be some other chemistry influencing her altered state.

"What did I use?" She asked, confused, and then looked up to him again. "Ah… you wanna know if I did something," she approached his ear and whispered: "Maybe…"

Suddenly she let go of his shoulders and stood up, staggering a little and cleaning the tracks of the tears on her face with the back of her hands. She walked a few steps erratically and looked around in amazement before looking at him again.

"Do you pay to sleep here?" Machi asked in surprise and laughed right away as if it were really hilarious. "You pay ! You're such a fancy-pants."

Hisoka just settled down more comfortably on the couch, watching the scene. On several occasions, he wished to see her acting more spontaneously, freer, but this situation was just sad. He didn’t even want to take advantage of it or tease her about it — at least not until the next day.

He watched Machi shrink into herself again, leaning against the wall and letting the weight of her body drag her to the floor. She crossed her arms very specifically over her stomach, and he knew it was a sign that something rather unpleasant was about to happen.

"You’re feeling sick," he declared, standing up to meet her.

"I'm fine, I'm fine…" Machi flinched a little more, however. "I just miss them..."

Ignoring the way she was closing herself off, Hisoka lifted her from the floor by the shoulders, as if she were a small child. He looked at Machi’s eyes seriously, while pinning her against the wall.

"I know you miss them, but acting like this is stupid. I can't believe you're the same Machi I know."

"Pakunoda was the first person who cared about me in this world," she declared and then swallowed hard before continuing: "she was my family and now she’s dead. Chrollo is my family and now he's far away, unable to use his nen, and I know you had a part in it. The chain guy..." Machi closed her eyes briefly as if to take his name from memory, "Kurapika, you sold our secrets to Kurapika because you wanted to, didn't you? He didn't do to you what he did to Paku, you don't have a fucking chain in your heart. You don't even have a fucking heart! You are a..." eyelids closed again, this time, however, she couldn't remember the word. A single tear streamed down her left eye. "Damn it…"

"You talk as if you have a heart," Hisoka interrupted her coldly, which made her look at him with a sharp look, a faint bloodlust pulsing from her intoxicated body. "You don't feel anything for anyone but for a few of your friends. You're not much better than me."

Machi struggled in his hands for a fraction of a second, resigning herself to kill him only with her intentions when she was unable to leave. She looked a little more like who she really was now.

"You have no idea, you idiot."

Those words were followed by a few seconds of silence in which the blue of her eyes became indecipherable. That was when he remembered who she was and why he cared so much. Machi was the lady of the labyrinth, and he had never managed to get out of her tortuous paths because, very wisely, she had never given him her threads, leaving him lost forever in her maze.

"When I fight Chrollo, who do you want to survive?" He didn’t know where this question came from when it left his mouth, but the reaction it had caused in the woman justified it.

Machi blinked a few times, as if trying to calculate the seriousness of what he had asked, and then closed her eyes with a certain solemnity.

"I don't want you to fight Danchou. I don't want either of you dead."

Perhaps the answer was more than enough, but she had also progressively got closer to him, so much so that her lips touched his lightly at first, completing the touch quickly in a kiss. Without so much lightness, he finally advanced against her mouth, pressing her against the wall now with the weight of his own body.

Machi moaned at his advance, embracing him with arms and legs irresistibly, making him also express the delight that took his body and his aura when, suddenly, she stepped away from him, with such assertiveness and urgency that he couldn't stop it.

And he was thankful for that when he saw her turn and lean her body, finally fulfilling the omen he had moments ago, throwing up on the floor of the hotel room.

Hisoka gave a disappointed snort, but the way her back curved with each spasm of her stomach made him quickly accept that this night would really be unique in his life.

The night he would spend taking care of someone's booze.

[...]

Machi opened her eyes, but the ambient light hurt like a razor and she hid her face in the pillow by reflex. Both her head and stomach were aching with an intensity that made any thought difficult, but when she smelled Hisoka's scent on the pillowcase, she knew something was very wrong. She fought the pain and opened her eyes at once, sitting on the bed and trying to identify where she was. A messy double bed, a hotel room lit with curtains open. Then she found herself wearing only a stretched, cropped T-shirt with playing card suits printed and panties that she at least recognized as her own.

Her nightmare was completed when she heard the magician's happy voice humming at the bedroom door.

"Good morning sunshine!"

There he was, holding a breakfast tray and wearing nothing but one of his ridiculous pants.

Machi wanted to disappear, but the best she could do was cover herself with the bedsheets.

"Don't worry, I saw all this and much more last night," Hisoka stated at her gesture as he left the tray on the nightstand and sat beside her on the bed.

She wanted to emanate bloodlust to let him know it wasn't funny, but the pain in her body prevented her, so she just squinted, watching him pour coffee in a cup and hold it out to her.

"Take this, it will make you feel better."

Machi held the cup suspiciously, without bringing it to her mouth, however. The smell of the drink, which at another time would be inviting, made her stomach turn.

"What's going on? What did you do to me?"

"Now, now, don't you remember anything?" He lay on his stomach beside her, looking at her in that paradoxically, uncomfortable and inviting way.

Machi vaguely remembered some things, but none of them made sense. So she let Hisoka continue:

"I saw you at a party yesterday by chance, you were already… happy… so don't ask me anything before that. You were dancing with a man who is dead now. I got him out of the way because he wasn't treating you like you deserve. So we danced, I made you laugh a few times, I brought you here, we made many, delicious things on the couch, and then against the wall, but unfortunately, you got sick and, by the way, that's why I pay to stay here, they clean up this kind of a mess," the smile broke with malice on his lips, while she tried to assimilate everything he said. "Now you, I was the one who cleaned you up. We took a hot shower together and you fell asleep in my arms soon after."

The sharp pain in her head seemed to create a wall in her own memories and in her ability to distinguish, in his words, what were lies and what were truths. Machi knew he was lying; it was too perfect a situation for him. Too easy. But the way she found herself left her without arguments.

"Well, I don't feel like we did anything much last night," she tried to fish, her voice cold, but he just laughed briefly.

"I was gentle with you this time. Believe it or not, I care about you."

"Liar," Machi accused him coldly, and then abandoned the cup on the nightstand beside her, making an effort to get out of bed, despite the pain.

It was incredible how she, always so resistant, was now suffering just because of a headache.

Machi looked for her clothes in the room, finding them folded on a chair, and began to dress while her other headache who was lying on the bed brought to him the cup she had abandoned — using nen, most likely — sipping and mumbling something about how she really should have drunk the coffee to feel better. Her eyes looked at Hisoka briefly. From her position, she had a wide view of his back, and the absence of the spider tattoo there, which was no longer needed because he was no longer keeping cover, seemed to make her a little dizzy.

How had she not realized before that his tattoo was nothing more than his Texture Surprise? How had her intuition not warned her that he was lying all the time? And why was the real Hisoka — well, at least, the Hisoka who no longer had to pretend he belonged with the Troupe — bothering to bring her coffee in bed?

She shook her head, with the excuse of trying to fix her hair, when in fact Machi was trying to put away those pathetic thoughts, even if the gesture caused her more pain. As soon as she buttoned up her jeans she headed to the bedroom door, stopping in her tracks, however, by his words, or by the unconscious desire to hear them.

"You should stay, you're not completely recovered and it's cold outside."

Hisoka sat on the bed but just looked at her with that serenity of someone who knows what they want, and knows that the object of their desire wants them in return. But it wouldn't happen today, and possibly, on any other day after he revealed his betrayal, Machi tried to conclude.

"I know how to take care of myself," she replied, determined to continue on her way.

"At least get a coat before you leave..."

"Stop pretending that you worry, you know you don't have to fake it anymore!" Machi declared, like an outburst, and finally left the room, slamming the door behind her.

Alone, Hisoka deposited the cup on the tray and lay down on the bed, taking a deep breath when feeling its comfort. He had missed it after spending the night on the couch.

He had obviously intertwined lies and truths in the story he told her. After Machi felt sick, he had actually called the room service to clean up the mess while he undressed and bathed her in the bathroom; she was so lethargic that she didn't even protest. Nor had she protested when he dressed her in his t-shirt and left her sleeping alone in his bed. Just that, and nothing more than that.

Still, he knew that last night had been very interesting and revealing in many ways, and he was satisfied with that.

He looked to the side and found a pink strand of hair on the white pillow. He took it between his fingers, bringing it to him as if it were a beautiful and precious memento.

"You have no idea, do you?" He murmured to that tiny part of her she had left behind. "You have absolutely no idea..."

#hisomachi #my fic #this one is old but I love it so much #maybe I'll try to translate more later #hisoka #machi #myarawrites #machi komacine #machi komachine #hisoka morrow #machi hxh #hisoka hxh

[aerynwrites]

The Devil You Know - Part 4

Figuring Things Out

(Gif by: @pedroispunk)

Author’s Note: Finally! Here is Chapter 4. I really really hope you guys enjoy this chapter because I had so much fun writing this you have no idea. I would really love to hear what you guys think about this chapter, and the series in general, hearing your feedback really helps keep me motivated to keep writing!

Word Count: 5.8k (oopsie)

Warnings: blood, canon typical violence, slight NSFW themes, fluff.

As always spanish to english translations are located at the bottom. (I do not speak spanish, so I am sorry for any formalities or things i got wrong)

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////

In the past week, it feels like nothing was going your way. You and Steve had made a considerable amount of headway in the investigation against the Los Carnales cartel, having gained some valuable info on the inner workings of the cartel and how they operated. However, just as good things started to happen, another problem seemed to crop up. It all pretty much started a few days after your date with Javier. An unknown group was on a violent streak in the area – market shootings, assassinations of important figures, and even bombings had started to crop up out of nowhere. The only conclusion that either you or Steve could come to was that they were part of the cartel – perhaps out to cause trouble in order to distract you and the Embassy from the bigger picture. But you weren’t having it, they were not about to stop you from taking the cartel down, not now. Which is why you ended up with Carrillo’s men at the town hall several blocks away.

Colonel Carrillo had received intel that the town hall was the next target of a bombing – and you all intended to stop it. And it seemed like you would, as you pulled up to the town hall just in time to see a small group of men crouched by the side of the building. The caravan screeched to  a halt in front of the building starling the men, just as You, Steve, and the Search Bloc exited your vehicles. At the sight of you all, the men scattered, running in all different directions.

You weren’t going to lose them.

“Steve with me!” you call to your partner, taking off to the right and following one of the men who bolted.

The man didn’t argue, just followed in your footsteps as you pursued the runner down various alleyways. It feels like a maze as you continue to chase after him, until you and Steve round the corner to a dead end, seeing the man flounder for an escape but unable to find one. You can feel your frustration from the past week bubble up inside you, along with your aggravation from the chase, and it fuels your actions as you stalk towards the man, gun aimed towards him as you approach.

“¡Manos donde pueda verlos pendejo!” you call, watching in slight surprise as he actually complies with your order.

He raises his hands above his head as you continue to approach, Steve comes with you and he cuffs him as you keep your gun aimed at the stranger until he’s securely apprehended. You drop your weapon slightly, guard still up, and walk until you’re only a few paces away.

“¿Por qué estabas en el Ayuntamiento?” you snap, voice harsh, “¿Para quién trabajas, eh?”

The man, who you quickly realize is quite young, probably only in his late twenties, rolls his eyes before spitting at your feet, “No te estoy diciendo nada, cerdo.”

It’s like his words cause the very thin string in you to finally snap, because before you can stop yourself, you are reaching forward and grasping the front of his shirt in your fist. You yank him from Steve’s grip and turn around, shoving him forward roughly. He stumbles, falling to the ground hard before rolling over onto his back, sending you a glare.

You take a few threatening steps forward, gun still lowered until you are standing at his feet, “si quieres salir de aquí, me vas a dar algo imbécil,” you say, your tone leaving nothing up for negotiation, as your patience starts to run thin.

However, he doesn’t seem to get the message, because instead of giving you an answer, he kicks his feet out in an attempt to knock you down. But you saw this coming and stepped out of the way before raising your gun.

“Wrong answer.”

Before either Steve or the perp on the ground could say anything, you pull the trigger on your pistol sending a round into the ground just inches from the man’s head, making concrete fly into the air. The man shrieks, and before you know it Steve is by your side hand on your weapon pushing it to the side forcefully.

“What the fuck was that?” he grinds out, eyes searching your face, a tinge of worry on his features.

You huff, “I’m trying to get answers, Steve! And if this asshole won’t give them to us, then I��ll make him,” you hiss, pushing your partner out of the way and stalking towards your target.

You don’t get very far before the man is holding his cuffed hands up, fear in his eyes, “No, no, por favor –“ he begs, “Por favor, no me mates, te diré lo que quieras, por favor.”

You don’t holster your weapon, ”¿Trabajas para el cartel, Los carnales?”

The man shakes his head violently, “No, señora. Estábamos con el cártel, pero nos fuimos. Queríamos hacer las cosas a su manera – el camino fuerte.”

Your eyes widen at the information, and you finally – slowly – holster your pistol, just as Carrillo enters the alleyway, a few of his men with him.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, “We heard a gunshot.”

You shook your head, “it was nothing,” you lie, seeing Steve roll his eyes in your periphery before turning your attention back to Carrillo, “Take him in,” you point to the man still on the ground, “He can give us more information. This group isn’t cartel like we thought, they used to be with the cartel, but they left. And they left for a reason,” you say.

Steve steps forward at this point, “So he could tell us why, and probably where the rest of the rogues are holed up,” he states, piecing together the situation.

Carrillo nods, turning back to his men and barking a few orders. They pick the man up and lead him away as Carrillo turns towards you, for once a hopeful look in his eye, “Good work. Maybe we can stop them before they do more damage,” he says, shaking your and Steve’s hand before returning the way they came.

You moved to follow after him, but a hand on your wrist stopped you. you turn to see Steve, brows furrowed together as he stares at you.

“What Steve?” you sigh, fully aware of what he was going to say.

“What the fuck was that?” he snaps, “You don’t even like being in the same building when Carrillo’s is questioning people, yet here you were ready to shoot someone – an unarmed someone – in the middle of the street.”

You yank your hand out of his grasp immediately defensive, “I did what I had to do Steve, we got answers didn’t we?” you sneer, turning to head back to the caravan, “come on. Before we get left behind.”

You hear Steve let out a frustrated sigh, before his footsteps followed you. you wouldn’t admit it, but your actions scared you. You never intended to almost blow the guy’s head off. You’ve never gotten that violent with an assailant before, so what has changed? This investigation, this cartel, Carlos’s death, it was all starting to have an effect on you.

What is happening to you?

***

It was nearing the end of the day as You and Steve started planning a raid of the rogue’s hide out. Carrillo had easily managed to get the information out of the man you had caught, finding out that the group was using a small house on the outskirts of the city as their base of operations. That left you and Steve the responsibility of planning the logistics of the raid, Carrillo would come in to help tomorrow.

“Hello?” Steve’s voice called, snapping you from your distracted state.

“Hmm?” you hummed, looking up from the papers on your desk to your partner who was giving you a somewhat concerned look.

“Are you okay?” he asks, “You’ve been out of it lately…you seem off,” he finally states, words laced with concern.

He wasn’t wrong. You had been out of sorts the past few weeks, unable to sleep properly ever since the shooting in the market. Ever since Carlos. When you did manage to find sleep, it was plagued with nightmares, images of Carlos lying on the ground or even Steve being the one on the floor instead. The lack of sleep was all starting to catch up with you, and evidently it was showing. Both in your actions today and in your life in general.

You let out a small sigh, “I’m fine Steve,” you begin, “I’ve just been distracted lately, this case has been…getting to me. That’s all,” you reply flippantly, deciding not to worry our partner with your personal problems. You’re sure he has plenty of his own to worry about, no need to add your issues on top.

Steve doesn’t seem entirely convinced, still obviously upset by your earlier display and so attuned to you by now after being partners for so long – but he sighs and lets it go.

“Well no better way to get your mind off of things than a few drinks, right?” he asks dropping his pen and looking at his watch, “Connie and I were going to go and grab some drinks after work. You should come,” he looks at you expectantly.

You mull over his proposition for a moment. You had intended on going back to your place – possibly seeing if Javier wanted to get together again, but maybe you could go for a drink instead. It sounded a lot more fun than moping around your apartment.

So, you nod, “Sure. Is it okay if I invite a friend though?” you ask, not wanting to intrude on Steve’s plans.

A mischievous look crosses your partners face as he wiggles his eyebrows, “hmm, a friend huh? How come I’ve never heard of this friend before now?” he teases, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head.

You feel your face flush at his jests, you open your mouth to speak, your initial reaction to say that Javier was more than just a friend, but you stopped yourself. You stopped because you weren’t even sure if that was true. Obviously, what you and Javier had was more than just friendship, but neither of you had put a label on it yet – so what were you really? Fuck buddies, friends with benefits? You shook your head – you would have to figure this out later.

“I didn’t think it was important,” you shrug, “We’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks. Our jobs keep us busy.”

Steve just hums, before standing from his seat, “Okay well, I have to go pick up Connie and then I’ll see you and your friend at the bar,” he says, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair and heading towards the door.

You rolled your eyes at your partner before leaning forward and picking the phone up off the receiver to call Javier. You felt the all too familiar feeling of butterflies in your stomach as you dialed his number and waited for his answer. You all had talked a few times since your date, but you haven’t met up since – you both had been busy with work. You were chasing the rogue cartel members while Javier was dealing with his family’s plantation. At least that’s what he told you.

Little did you know, he was also trying to deal with the rogues that left his cartel and stole his goods. He had caught a few of them – making sure they understood the repercussions of their actions. Maybe if he was a little…louder in his methods of dealing with the traitors, no one would try to undermine him again. He was actually in the middle of discussing the rogue members movements with his men when his phone started ringing. He sighed, pulling the cigarette from his lips and snuffing it out in the ash tray before answering the phone.

“Buenos,” He mumbled into the receiver, hoping to make this conversation quick.

“Javi?” your sweet voice asked through the receiver, and he immediately sat up straighter, snapping at his men and pointing them out of the room. The obeyed without question.

“Bonita?” he asked, when his men were out of earshot, “Is something wrong?”

His heart sped up a little when your bubbling laughter reached his ears, “No, nothing’s wrong,” you reassure, “I was calling to see if you were free, actually.”

Javier didn’t answer right away, he was too busy trying to get his racing heart to slow and quell the feeling in his belly. He hadn’t asked for more dates or meet ups since the one a few weeks ago for a reason. He was still trying to gather himself, still trying to figure out what the hell he had gotten himself into. He was trying to figure out if it was even a good idea to still be around you anymore – it was all too confusing, too complicated for him to logically continue this way. yet, no matter how hard he tried, he felt drawn to you. He found himself eagerly awaiting phone calls from you, waiting to hear your voice and your laugh, to see your smile – and this worried him.

“Are you still there?” you voice spoke timidly.

Javier shook his head, as if that would somehow expel the thoughts from his mind and sat forward in his chair letting out a loud sigh, “Yeah I’m here.”

It’s like you could hear his inner turmoil, because before he could continue, you were speaking again, “if you’re not that’s fine –“ your words were spoken quickly, the words jumbling over themselves as you continued to ramble, “I just – my partner and his wife were going to get some drinks in a little bit and asked if I wanted to come and – and well I just thought that maybe you would want to come?” he could hear the hopefulness in your words despite the winded explanation, and he opened his mouth to respond but you beat him to it again.

“But I know you’re probably busy, and this is so last minute, I should have known-“

“Hey, hey slow down,” he cut off your rambling, voice amused yet firm, “I would love to come,” he said, and he meant it.

He just couldn’t stay away from you, and plus, one more night out wouldn’t hurt anything.

“Great! That’s –“ he heard you take in a deep breath, “That’s great, I’ll see you there – It’s the bar we usually go to,” you say, voice light and filled with relief.

“Okay,” he said, “I’m out at the plantation right now so it will take me a bit to get into town, but I’ll start heading that way.”

“okay, drive safe,” you tell him.

Javier smiles at your words, amused at your small show of concern for him, “I will. see you soon princesa.”

He then pulls the phone away from his ear and set it back down into its cradle, a large smile lingering on his lips.

God, what has he done to himself?

***

“So,” Connie begins, taking a sip from her drink, “What is this friend of your like?” she asks, curiosity lacing her words.

Steve took this opportunity to jump in as well, “Yes, please enlighten us on the details of this friend you never told us about.”

You roll your eyes. You, Steve, and Connie had arrived at the bar about half an hour ago and you had managed to avoid the topic of Javier until now. But it seems their curiosity got the better of them, so you decided to give in.

“Well I met him here actually,” you inform, reaching out and taking a few peanuts from the bowl on the table and popping them in your mouth, “it was the day we got the Cartel case. I came to celebrate, and he struck up a conversation with me.”

Connie’s leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand, “Is he handsome?”

You saw Steve roll his eyes as he took a swig of his beer, before you answered her question, “Yes Connie,” you giggle, “He’s quite easy on the eyes,” you then feel a flush creep up your cheeks and you start to pick at a thread on the dress you had changed into, “Not too bad in the more…physical realm either,” you mumble.

You hear Connie let out a high pitch giggle at your comment just as Steve lets out a low groan and stands from his seat, “And that’s my cue to go get more drinks – you guys are terrible,” he chastises playfully walking over to the bar to get more drinks for the table.

Connie immediately leans into the table, voice lowered slightly as her eyes sparkled with mischief, “So…Spill!”

If your face wasn’t flushed already, you knew it had to be red as a tomato now, “I’m not just going to talk about my sexual exploits Connie!”

She whines, “Why not? I need details! I’ve been with Steve forever – and while he is far from disappointing –“

You wave your hands in the air and make an exaggerated gagging noise, “Connie stop. Oh my god I do not need to know about my partners sex life, please.”

She just lets out a loud laugh and takes another sip of her drink, “Come on – Please?” she practically begs, “Is he like totally vanilla? Or is he into to other things?”

You cover your face with your hands, “Connie, please!”

She shakes her head, “I’m not gonna stop until you give me something. so is he-“

You finally plant your hands firmly on the table, “Oh my god okay!” you whisper shout, “no he’s not totally vanilla, yes he’s into other stuff, and before you ask because I know you will – Yes he is above average. Are you happy now?” you huff, the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck.

You expect the woman to throw even more questions at you but instead you see her hand over her mouth, stifling laughter as she looks behind you.

“So,” a familiar baritone fills your ears, “I’m above average, huh?”

You slowly turned to the side, seeing Javier standing just to the side and behind you, a smug grin on his face and a sparkle in his eye. If the earth were to open up beneath you right now, you would have gladly dived in headfirst. Your skin was hot with embarrassment as Javier leaned over and pressed a kiss to your lips before sliding into the booth next to you.

“How much of that did you hear exactly?” you mumbled.

Javier just chuckled and slid his arm around your waist and pressed another kiss to your temple, his lips ghosting over your ear, “Oh, I heard enough,” he whispered, breath warm as it fanned over your already heated skin.

You wanted to shrink down into your seat, but Javier didn’t give you time to dwell in your embarrassment as he extended his hand to Connie, “Javier. It’s nice to meet you – although it sounds like you already know who I am,” he introduces, voice teasing.

Connie takes his hand in her own politely, “Well actually she hadn’t even told me your name yet,” she says, sending a playful wink your way and letting Javier take his hand back.

Javier just gave you an amused look, “you didn’t even tell her my name before you told her all about my –“

You cut him off, pointing an accusing finger at Connie, “She was the one who asked!” you cried, “I didn’t even want to have this discussion.”

“What discussion?” Steve’s voice asked, returning to the table with drinks in hand.

“Oh, Steve thank god-“ you whine, “Please save me from your wife and the trouble she has caused me.”

Steve just laughs, and sets the drinks down before sliding into the booth, his eyes landing on Javier as he passes the drinks around, “Hey man, I hope you like whiskey, because that’s what I’ve got,” he said, offering a glass of amber liquid to Javier.

He just nods, taking the glass from Steve’s hand and pulling his arm from around your waist to offer it to Steve, “My favorite, actually,” he says, shaking hands with Steve firmly, “Javier. And you must be Steve.”

Your partner smiles and nods, casting a glance your way, “That’s me,” he takes a sip of his drink, “Hope missy over there hasn’t told you all bad things.”

You chuckle at his words and felt the butterflies return as Javi gives one of his own laughs and returns his arm to your waist, “Not all bad things,” he jests, “but she’s told me some pretty good stories.”

The night goes on like this, just the four of you talking and catching up as if you were all old friends. It was a comforting feeling, knowing that Javier seemed to fit right in with you and the people you cared about. It was all so…domestic – and it brought your thoughts from earlier back. what was this between you and Javier? Despite not having an answer, you found yourself wanting more. More of this…whatever this was. And the fact that Javier had gotten more handsy as the night drew on wasn’t helping this feeling.

“So, what is it you do for work Javier?” Steve asked, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offering one to the man next to you.

He graciously accepts and pulls his arm from around you to grab his lighter. He puts the stick between his lips and opens his lighter, igniting the cigarette and storing his lighter away.

“My family owns a coffee bean plantation on the outskirts of town. I’m in charge of the managerial side of things – exports, profits, shipping, stuff like that,” he explains.

You expected him to wrap his arm around you again but are caught off guard when instead his hand falls to your thigh, his fingers creeping under the hem of your dress slightly. suddenly you were very happy you decided to go home and change before meeting the group at the bar.

You tried to pay attention to the conversation, dropping in when you had something to add, but you found it harder and harder to focus with his hand on you. He would switch from rubbing soothing circles in your skin to gliding his hand up and down, stopping a little higher each time. Eventually after several torturous moments of this, his hand rested a little too high for your comfort and you shot up from your seat slightly.

“I-uh,” you stumbled over your words, “I’m gonna go get more drinks. Do you guys want anymore?” you ask, sending a playful glare to Javier asking him to move so you could get out.

They all nodded their confirmation as Javier slid from the booth to let you out. He helped you stand before returning to his seat, sending you a playful wink as you walked to the bar.

That coy bastard. He knew what he was doing to you, and he was proud of it. You stuck your tongue out at him playfully and watch as his shoulders shook with laughter as he returned to his conversation.

You finally made it up to the bar and waved the bartender down, ordering your drinks. You waited patiently for him to make some other customers drinks before he got to yours. You leaned your elbows on the bar, leaning forward just slightly as you waited, when suddenly you felt a presence at your side – a little too close for comfort. You turned and you saw an unfamiliar man standing next to you, eyes unabashedly roaming your figure.

“Te ves bien esta noche Chica,” He called, eyes never leaving your body.

You scoff and turn away from him, silently begging the bartender to hurry up. That is until you felt a harsh grip on your upper arm.

“Oye, te estoy hablando bruja,” his voice snaps, turning you harshly to face him.

“¡Suéltame cabrón!” you snarl, trying to pry his hand from you.

But before you can shove him off, he’s pulling you closer to him his free hand coming down to grab your ass, “¿Por qué?” His breath is warm and reeks of alcohol as it fans over your face, “Apuesto a que podría follarte mejor que ese pendejo de ahí” he breathes, making your stomach churn as he shoves his nose into your neck.

You push at him even harder now, “Get your fucking hands off of me!” you shout, the last word coming out high pitched as he groped you harder.

Before you even realized what was happening, the man was being ripped off of you and thrown to the ground and Connie and Steve were by your side, questions spilling from their lips – asking if you were okay and what had happened. But you couldn’t focus, your eyes were glued to the scene in front of you as Javier stood over the man who assaulted you, his shirt gripped fiercely in one hand while the other laid blow after sickening blow to the man’s face. You heard shouts from the other patrons in the bar and it finally broke you from your stupor. You pulled out of your friends grasp and moved towards Javier, who was still beating the absolute shit out of the guy while cursing at him.

“No la tocas, ¿me oyes?” he yelled, every other word enunciated by another blow.

You finally reach them and lunge for Javier, hands wrapping forcefully around his arm before he can hit the man again, “Javier stop!” you shouted.

But he didn’t stop, he just pulled his arm from your grip and continued beating the guy, and at this point a small seed of fear planted itself in your chest. The feral look on Javi’s face and the utter ruthlessness in his actions worried you. He was going to kill this man.

You looked back at Steve quickly, eyes begging for help, and he seemed to get the message. He rushed forward, and with your combined strength, you were able to pull Javier away from the man. You heard the bartender yell at you all to get out and you didn’t argue, glancing back and seeing the man unconscious on the floor as a few people crowded around him. once you were to the door of the bar, Javier roughly shrugged from your and Steve’s grip and shoved the doors open. You winced at the sound of them slamming against the wall before following him out.

You turned behind you, seeing that Connie had thoughtfully managed to grab all of your things from the table before you were kicked out, and you took your purse from her.

“I’m so sorry,” you say looking from them back to Javier who was lighting another cigarette and taking a long drag, “You guys should go home, I’ll talk to him.”

Steve looked at you warily, “Are you sure you want to be alone with him? After what he just did?”

You put a reassuring hand on his arm, giving it a small squeeze, “He won’t hurt me Steve, I promise.”

He glanced from you to the man a few feet away before sighing and pulling you into a hug, “okay,” he said, and you moved to give Connie a hug as well before stepping back slightly, “I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” Steve said, tugging Connie closer to him and turning to walk back to their car.

You let out a small sigh before turning around to go to Javier – this was not how this night was supposed to go. As you approach him you see that he has calmed down slightly, the only thing off about him is the hand holding his cigarette is shaking, blood and bruising covering his knuckles. He speaks before you can, stepping towards you as one hand cradles your face.

“Are you okay, Querida?” he asks gently, his eyes dancing across your face for any indication that you were harmed.

You shake your head and take his hand in yours, removing it from your cheek, “What was that Javier?” you question.

His lips fell into a firm line and he clenched his jaw for a moment before pulling the cigarette to his mouth and taking a deep breath. you wait patiently, as he exhales the smoke slowly, eyes looking off into the distance.

“I just-“ he sighed, scratching his brow with his thumb, the smoldering stick held between his fingers, “when I saw what has happening – when I saw his hands all over you – touching you like that,” his voice is filled with disgust as he takes another drag, breathing out the smoke again, “It’s like I couldn’t stop myself, I just – He shouldn’t have touched you like that.”

As you watched him take one final drag before tossing the filter to the ground and squashing it, you couldn’t help the conflicted feelings that bubbled inside you. You were grateful to him, obviously, that man had assaulted you and who knows what would have happened if Javier hadn’t stepped in. He protected you, something that should make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Yet, as you looked at his bloodied hand and remembered the primal scene in the bar…you also felt scared. Javier absolutely lost it, and he was powerful, you saw that on full display. So why did you still feel drawn to him? you should tell him to get lost, that you never want to see him again, but words spill out of your mouth faster than you can stop them, as you take his injured hand in your gently.

“Come on,” you whisper, tugging him in the direction of your car, “Let’s at least get your hand taken care of.”

***

The car ride to your apartment was silent, neither of you saying a word until you entered your apartment and locked the door behind you. You wordlessly walked into the kitchen and Javier followed, watching as you dug around under the sink for the first aid kit. Once you had it in hand you walked over and pulled a stool out from under the island, pointing to it.

“Sit,” you command quietly, grabbing the disinfectant and gauze from the kit while he got situated.

Javier was silent for a while, a million thoughts running through his head as he watched you work. But the one that kept coming to the fore front of his mind was the one that bothered him most. He was worried he had ruined everything.

But why should he be? This is what he wanted after all – an excuse to get away from you and the feeling you stirred within him. however, the only thing he felt at the thought was an intense ache. He didn’t want to entertain the idea of never seeing you again, especially if it was because you were scared of him. He was surrounded by people that were scared of him every day, the citizens of this country were scared of him and they didn’t even know who he was. El Diablo is what they called him, the devil. He scoffed at the thought, and that seemed to catch your attention.

You glanced up from your work, catching his gaze before looking back down again, “Penny for you thoughts?”

He doesn’t answer right away, only speaking when you finish with his hand, tying the gauze into place and taking a step closer to him.

He finally looks up at you, your eyes level with his with him sitting down and you standing in front of him, “are you afraid? Of me?” his words are quiet and they rumble in his chest as he speaks.

Your eyes soften at his words, and you fold your arms in front of you loosely, shrugging your shoulders, “What you did was insane, Javi. It was – “ you chew on the inside of your cheek momentarily before continuing, “yeah, I was scared,” you breath.

You watch as he seems to deflate at your words so you step forward quickly, hands coming to rest on the back of his neck, “But I’m not afraid of you,” you assure, “I know you would never hurt me. At least I would hope not.”

His head snaps up at your words and he stands from his seat, taking your face in his hands firmly, “No, no, never,” he stressed, “I would never hurt you.”

He doesn’t let you respond, he just surges forward, connecting his lips to yours in a fierce kiss. It’s desperate and needy, as his lips clash with yours, and his tongue swipes along your lower lip. You don’t hesitate in allowing him entrance. Your mouths move against each other hungrily – like you both had been starved before this moment, every emotion either of you had held back was thrown into this kiss, this…declaration. His hands move from your face down your body until they land on your hips, squeezing harshly and earning a gasp from you. Your hands had moved up, fingers carding through his hair and tugging slightly just as his hands gave you another harsh grasp, and the groan he emits is sinful as he pulls away from you.

You can see what he wants, the desire plain as day in his eyes, and you want to say something, anything, but he attaches his lips to your neck and your brain seems to short circuit, failing to get the one question you have been holding onto all night past your lips. but the feeling of his fingers creeping under the hem of your sundress kick starts your brain again and you push at his shoulders lightly.

He pulls away immediately, worried eyes searching yours, “What’s wrong? Did I – “

“What is this?” you blurt out, the words spilling over your lips before you can stop them, causing a silence to hang in the air.

It was out. The question you had been thinking about all day - that had been plaguing your mind since your first date. And Javier didn’t know how to respond. His mind, previously foggy with lust and too many emotions he couldn’t identify, was now blank. He didn’t know how to answer, because he didn’t have one. What were you? were you friends?

No estúpido, you’re more than that.

Friends with benefits?

He shook his head at this thought. No, that wasn’t it either.

You pulled away from him slightly, “Javi?”

He looked up to you now, unable to miss the innocent hope in your eyes as you waited for his answer, so he shook his head again, closing his eyes momentarily before looking back up to you.

“What do you want us to be?”

///

Translations:

¡Manos donde pueda verlos pendejos! – hands where I can see them asshole!

¿Por qué estabas en el Ayuntamiento? – why were you at town hall?

¿Para quién trabajas, eh? – who do you work for, huh?

No te estoy diciendo nada, cerdo. – I’m not telling you anything, pig.

si quieres salir de aquí, me vas a dar algo imbécil – If you want to walk out of here, you’re going to give me something asshole.

Por favor, no me mates, te diré lo que quieras, por favor – Please don’t kill me, I’ll tell you whatever you want, please.

¿Trabajas para el cartel – Do you work for the cartel?

No, señora. Estábamos con el cártel, pero nos fuimos. Queríamos hacer las cosas a su manera – el camino fuerte. – No ma’am. We were with the cartel, but we left. We wanted to do things out own way – the loud way.

Te ves bien esta noche Chica – you look good tonight girl.

Oye, te estoy hablando bruja – hey, I’m talking to you bitch!

¡Suéltame cabrón! – Let go of me bastard!

Por Que – Why?

Apuesto a que podría follarte mejor que ese pendejo de ahí – I bet I could fuck you better than that asshole over there,

No la tocas, ¿me oyes? – you don’t fucking touch her. Do you hear me?

////

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[incidentreport31]

Episode 2 - Secure TRANSCRIPT

[You can listen to the show wherever you get your podcasts.

Recorder clicks on.

SFX of a mug being set down on a counter. Water pouring and then the clink of a spoon against ceramic. Then, an abrupt almost dropping of said mug as Zach begins to speak.

ZACH:

Tea? Really?

ARCHIVIST:

(stammering)Oh, hi, hello, can… can I help you…?

(beat)

ZACH:

You can help yourself by getting some coffee. Tea isn’t gonna do anything for you, you know. It won’t keep you going for the whole day. You’ve gotta get that good ole cup of joe to start your morning.

ARCHIVIST:

I’m… sorry?

ZACH:

You can’t tell me that you actually like that garbage, right? I mean what kind are you even making?

[shuffle as he grabs the box off the counter]

English Breakfast? Really? English? Compensating for being in the US are we?

ARCHIVIST:

(defensive for no reason beknown to the listener but painfully known to them) I happen to like it, actually but- no actually wait a minute, who are you? Do you work here?

ZACH:

(also defensive for previously explained reason) Yeah, I do. Do you?

ARCHIVIST:

Yes, indeed I do. I’m actually the head archivist. May I ask what in the hell you might do around here? Other than, of course, critique drink choices?

ZACH:

Oh. (beat) Oh you- (another beat) You’re the archivist?

ARCHIVIST:

(huffing out a breath) Quite right. Once again. What the hell do you do here?

ZACH:

Oh I’m Zach. Zach Baker. I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were… my… boss.

ARCHIVIST:

(hurried and with false confidence) Yes, of course. I’m Val West… your boss. Which means that I’m in charge here. Which then means you should… watch yourself in bothering me about these small things. Yes.

ZACH: It’s not my fault you have the worst taste in drinks-

ARCHIVIST:

(coughs to cut him off)

ZACH:

Well, you do. I’m just saying, okay? And- hold on, are you recording this?

ARCHIVIST: Hmm? Oh, yes I suppose I am.

ZACH:

Where’d that thing come from anyway? It looks ancient.

ARCHIVIST:

It is, from what I can tell. But Mr. Banks has instructed me to record all of my (said with distaste because the archivist is a dick to account givers) “little stories” into it. Apparently, silent reading does not do much in the way of furthering the plot of a story told in an audio format.

ZACH: Yeah, I guess he has a point there.

ARCHIVIST:

Fair enough… Either way, I'm not the biggest fan of the old girl, but she hasn’t broken down on me so far, so that counts for something I reckon. Not that there aren’t better ways of recording things, but I digress.

(a beat)

But, I guess I’ve just gotten in the habit of turning it on when it seems like I’m about to do something noteworthy that might further the plot, you know?

ZACH: Like… making tea.

ARCHIVIST:

Yes, yes, I believe you’ve already expressed your opinions on tea, but some of us prefer it to that… grimy coffee that you seem so attached to.

ZACH:

(flustered and compensating, sputtering his words out) Well you can defend your tea all you want, but I am still objectively correct and everyone else definitely agrees with me too, even if the coffee pot goes missing once a week-

ARCHIVIST:

The coffee pot what?

ZACH:

(feeling like he shouldn’t have said that as it seems to have hurt his argument, starting slow and getting increasingly heated) I… it goes missing sometimes… and I haven’t figured out who keeps taking it yet, but trust me I will, and anyways in the meantime, it’s a bit inconsiderate of you to continue trash talking my drink choice-

Recorder clicks off.

Recorder clicks on.

ARCHIVIST:

God, I had to cut that conversation off… It was getting quite past the point of relevance to anyone listening. Pointless debate. So… back to what I was hired on to do, I suppose. (clearing their throat) For the consideration of Boston College: Jordyn Mackenzie’s encounter with an odd child in her parents’ neighborhood, and her request to be exempt from her midterms. No date, once again. [mutters] I am starting to question my predecessor’s competency when it came to filing these out. Her story begins:

[ACCOUNT START]

Every Wednesday night, I make the drive over to my parents’ house to have dinner. When I first moved into my dorm, I had stubbornly been forced into these dinners, as if they were ripping away my freedom so shortly after I had received it. As time went on, however, those Wednesday night dinners have become what I look forward to most. After a while, the glamour of college began to wear off, and I got homesick easily, even if my mother and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye. There’s something so comforting about being able to step away from the bustling atmosphere of campus, and go somewhere quiet, and familiar. We’ve lived in that house almost all my life, and even with all of the bad memories attached to it, I can’t help but think of all the good ones. Perhaps that’s because I always try to see the glass as half full.

(beat)

It’s not just the house I enjoy. My parents live in a small gated community, just about twenty minutes away from school. The houses are all fairly new, with that white picket fence quality to them. In spite of that, each house has its own personality and charm to it. My favorite is probably this blue one with rabbit figurines out front. There’s a park in the neighborhood, too. Not a fancy one, just some monkey bars, a couple of slides, and a grassy field, but it’s great for picnics. Though, in all my time living there, I’ve hardly seen any other children there. I just assumed there weren’t many young kids in the neighborhood.

(another beat)

Thus, you can imagine my surprise when I met this particular child. Now, after dinner each night, I go out on a walk around the neighborhood. It’s small enough to walk the whole span of it in less than half an hour. My father used to come with me, but he’s been having troubles with his knee, so now I walk alone. The weather this time of year is near perfect for a walk—cold enough for it to kiss your face and wake you up, but not enough to freeze to death.

ARCHIVIST:

(mutters) Good lord, spare me the bad poetry. Would love to get to the actual point soon. Anyways.

[ACCOUNT]

It was on one of these walks that I first encountered the kid.

ARCHIVIST:

(mutters) Thank you.

[ACCOUNT]

As I previously stated, there aren’t many kids in the neighborhood, so it took me by surprise to see a new face. He looked to be about seven or eight, with unkempt, dirty blond hair, and blue eyes that were almost unnaturally large on his face. He wore a basic white t-shirt and jean shorts, and sure, I liked the weather, but a kid dressed like that must have been freezing, right? He did not shiver, however, hardly even emoted. Just walked right down the center of the road, staring dead ahead, carrying a bright orange toy gun.

(beat)

Of course, I worried for the kid. Where were his parents? Why was he out so late by himself?

I called out to him. He looked up at me with a surprised look, as if he was shocked to see me actually speaking to him. I asked him what his name was, but he didn’t answer. I tried to ask him lots of things—where his house was, why he was out so late, if he needed help or if his parents were nearby. He wouldn’t respond to anything I said. Just stood there and stared intensely into my eyes. I have to admit, it made me a bit squeamish. Eventually, I just walked away, hoping that whoever was responsible for the kid knew where he was, and that he would make it home safely. I tried not to think about it too much after that. The following week, when I went to dinner, I didn’t go on a walk. My parents had decided they wanted to play a board game, and I was more than happy to comply. The event with the kid had left me feeling unsettled, so I was a bit wary of going on a walk regardless. After another week, however, I had finally gotten over it. I figured it was just one weird kid, nothing more. I mean, looking back, I couldn’t blame him for being scared to talk to a complete stranger. I mean I wasn’t even certain looking back that the expression on his face was all that disturbing. It likely had just been fear, right? Surely, his parents knew where he was, and he was simply out for a post-supper stroll like I was. It was a fairly safe neighborhood, after all. So, the next time I went to my parent’s house for dinner, I went on another walk. There was a slight breeze, but my body heats up as fast as an oven with the slightest bit of exercise, so I welcomed the blasts of cold on my skin. The leaves in the trees rustled, and combined with the sound of windchimes, it was like a symphony of nature’s design.

ARCHIVIST: dropping down papers

(frustrated) I thought I said no more poetic imagery, christ- oh good it ends.

[ACCOUNT]

It was lovely, up until it wasn’t. I saw the kid again, still standing in the middle of the road. He was wearing the exact same outfit as before, the shorts even having the exact same grass stains they did before. It was uncanny, sure, but I figured it was just a coincidence. This time, I harbored far less discomfort or worry. It was just a kid. What could he do to me?

(beat)

A lot, turns out. (stumbling through the sentence) A lot meaning… scare me, but you know what I mean.

Before I even opened my mouth, I realized he was staring dead at me. As if his doll-like eyes were drilling holes into my skull. The weight of being watched hit me like a freight train, but I tried my best to shake it off. I apologized to him for being so invasive the last time we met. Again, he didn’t answer, just continued staring. I wasn’t quite sure what to say after that. It would be hypocritical if I began asking him questions again, immediately after I had apologized for doing exactly that.

ARCHIVIST:

Not sure a child understands what hypocrisy is, but, if it lets you keep the moral high ground, Ms. Mackenzie.

[ACCOUNT]

I didn’t like the way he looked at me, though. My desperate need to fill the silence was an instinct of some kind. As I stood there, teetering back and forth on my heels as I tried to think of what to do next, something strange happened. The kid, still staring at me, slowly began to raise his arm. In his hand was the same toy gun as before. He raised the toy gun until it was pointing directly at my head. Well, what the hell was I supposed to do with that? I knew it wouldn’t actually hurt me if he fired it, yet I still found myself frozen in place.

That was when the car, driving far too fast for a neighborhood, came barreling around the corner. The kid didn’t move. Didn’t even look to see the car coming. My feet lept to action before I processed what I was doing. I ran out into the middle of the street and tackled the kid. We stumbled towards the sidewalk on the other side as I dragged him. The momentum knocked us to the ground. Pain surged through my shoulder and my hip, but I hardly processed it until later, when I saw the large bruises that had formed. We had just barely managed to clear the car’s path. The driver didn’t even stop to apologize, or check to see if we were okay. Didn’t even slow down. I didn’t get a good look at the driver’s face, or the license plate. All I remember is that the car was black and might have been a Honda. Wherever they are, I hope karma did a good deal on them for their reckless driving.

Before I could focus on my injuries, I checked to make sure the kid was okay. Other than a scrape on his knee, he appeared to be fine, but it was hard to say. Even after all of that, his expression still hadn’t changed. For some reason, this made me indescribably angry. How could you almost get hit by a car and then still act completely neutral? Regardless,if he was in any pain, there was no way I could tell. I offered to take him back to my place and clean up his knee, but he shook his head. I noticed he was staring intently over my shoulder. When I turned around, I realized his toy gun had been destroyed. Orange and yellow plastic bits covered the street, almost like broken glass. He stood up and walked towards the remains. As he picked up what used to be the trigger, his face was still blank, but if I looked closely enough, I could have sworn I saw something adjacent to sadness. Disappointment, perhaps. For the first time since I had met him, he opened his mouth, and—god, I wish I had stuck around long enough to learn more. I wish I had pressed harder, since I now knew he was actually capable of speech. Hearing what he said next chilled me, though. I can’t quite say why. All I know is that after he spoke, I got up and ran back to my house, never wanting to see that kid again. Do you want to know what he said? The only words I ever heard him speak? It was this, with no further details or elaboration: “He’s not going to be happy about this.”

Paper shuffling.

ARCHIVIST:

And that seems to be where it ends. Jordyn gave us the name of the neighborhood this took place in, as well as the exact street the incident happened. The problem is, as she stated, it’s a gated community, and none of our staff had a code to get in. It says here in an attached slip of paper labeled: Incident Report, (sighs) date not given, that they contacted the head of the community in an attempt to gain access, but the head of the home-owner’s association said to, quote, “shove it in a place the sun doesn't shine, you conspiracy theory creeps.” Luca writes here that there was an issue involving a cup of… tea… thrown at their face… what a waste.(mutters) Rich people.

Because of this, there’s not much we can do. Without a stated name for the kid, or any known relatives, it’s hard to try to track this kid down. Frankly, I don’t think Jordyn’s story is all that concerning, other than the incident with the car, which we also could not find due to her vague description.

(beat)

It’s likely the child she met was simply shy, or possibly processed his emotions in a different way than she was used to. Her university certainly agreed with me, since it seems she was not given her requested time off. Thus, as far as I can tell, this is another instance of someone making something deeper than it needs to be and then trying to get an extra vacation. I can’t blame her, I suppose, since nearly seeing a kid get run over would certainly be upsetting. It does appear that Oliver, our resident psychological consultant, did recommend her a therapist, but she never went.

(beat)

Trust me, Jordyn, I would love to take a break as well, but post-grad school is expensive, and I doubt Mr. Banks would give me paid time off even if something worthwhile were to happen. It’s the world we live in, I suppose. Gotta pay off the student loans one way or another. (sigh)

End recording.

Recorder click off.

CREDITS:

Incident Report Number 31 is a podcast made by Three-Eyed Frog Presents. This episode, “Secure,” was written, directed, and produced by Val West and Luka Miller with sound design by Luka Miller. This episode featured Val West as the Archivist and Kaleb Piper as Zach Baker. Music is produced by Luka Miller. To keep up with the show and find transcripts, make sure to follow us on our Twitter at @IR31Pod and on tumblr at @IncidentReport31. To contact us with any questions or concerns, feel free to email us at [email protected]. Thanks so much for listening!

#ir31pod transcripts

[zombiejoepino]

The Scavenger. CH: 2 (Cobb Vanth x OC fanfic)

CH 2: The Bounty

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Pairing: Cobb Vanth x OC!Female (in her late 20´s if you wondered)

Word count: 2923

Summary: A dangerous man is trying to keep a bounty in secret. He is waiting news from his missing hunters. Back in Mos Pelgo, The Marshal guards at night.

Warnings: angst

A/N: English is not my first language so i apologize in advance if i butchered your language. If you want to read the first part is right here. Thanks for stopping by and I hope you enjoy it

FULL STORY HERE :

UPDATE. CHAPTER 3 IS UP! 

CHAP 2: THE BOUNTY

Another night in the crowded bar.

A light smoke covered the atmosphere, live music was banging in the walls as the blue-skinned singer charmed the audience with her smooth voice.

Hunters, travelers, or anyone looking for passage was that night. Some of them just enjoyed a drink while talking business, others just gambled from time to time the sound of a blaster roared and another body dropped dead. Didn’t pull fast enough, others thought.

Just a regular night at Mos Espa.

The smoky drink traveled its way around the joint, crossing around colorful and loud characters. All of them must have a good story about the Old Republic or the Empire. They would exchange facts and anecdotes but there was always someone taking credit for things that didn’t happen. That would end up in a whole fight.

The drink finally made its way to the lone booth, stopping right in front of this man. Dark hair, a dark eye, and a pale one that followed the X shape scar across his left side. A strong clean shaved jaw and a heavy frown. Captain Qod was his name.

There were rumors about him, no one could tell for sure if he was a rebel pilot that went rogue or an imperial pilot turned into a bounty hunter. All that everyone knew was that he was good at stealing and hunting.

He and his gang, the Shadows, got quite a reputation for pulling out heists on New Republic cargo. They were smart enough to stay low for a time before going all over again. The last job was easy on terms, things went sideways in a matter of seconds. He lost two crew members, one betrayed them, the rest flee to the closest location.

His fingers drummed patiently, then stopped to take the smoky drink. He took a small sip and made a face.

Between the crowd, a skinny pale man flashed his yellowish smile at him and waved nervously. Wan Plog was a slippery one that always shifted between alliances. Our lone man didn’t make any expression while looking at him but just followed his clumsy actions with his eyes.

The nervous pale man reached the lone booth and waited before he was allowed to sit down. He rubbed his hands together and took the cloak from his head.

“They haven’t come back, boss.” Plog smiled nervously. “But maybe that’s not all bad. Probably found her and are just waiting to bring her. You know how the desert is. Raiders and other creatures.” He chuckled.

Max Qod, just gave him a long stare and sipped the smoky drink again. He didn’t blink even once.

“But if they don’t find her, I made this.” The pale man looked through his pockets and dropped a rounded dark object. He picked it up quickly, cleaned it up a bit, and slid it through the table.

Qod put down his drink and rose a brow looking at the puck. He pressed it and the blueish hologram displayed the young redhead image and last name; Roznev. Charges: Theft.  

“I know It’s a high price, boss, but maybe the best of the best can find her. Maybe if we send this to the Guild. After all, what she took is wh-” Plog's words were cut when the Captain's large hand-pulled him by the hood and made him bang his head in the table.

There was a small moment of silence but the crowd just decided to ignore it as they do with other conflicts or shootouts.

Qod press his head down on the table and moved close enough to his ears and whisper. “You know if you spit any word of what she has, others will come for it. I dunno who told you to make that, but you better destroy it.” He squeezed the head down, poor Plog let out a squeak.

“Better find those idiots, I don’t care if you have to track them down personally. Cant trust bounty hunters.”  

Qod shoved him away from the booth and looked down at the pale man. His expression was severe. He left 3 rounded chips on the table and walked away. The folks around just stepped aside to clear the Captain's way.

No one wanted to mess with The Shadows' leader.

…

Nighttime was the quietest at Mos Pelgo; kids were at the house getting ready to sleep. The local business closed when the sunset down. Only the old Weequay kept the light up as he cleaned up his pub, sweeping quietly. Even Banthas were mooing from time to time, almost like they were singing at night.

There was no much action after earlier events. The stranger crashing a speeder close to the town and the Marshal taking down two of them. The third one wounded, probably a victim, or just trouble. That was the two ideas that bounced on The Marshal's head.

He fought so hard for this community to have a moment of peace and he wouldn’t allow strangers to bring trouble to them. No more Key Raiders, Mining Collective, or the Sand people, he would face them all if it was necessary.

Of course, he would stand for his town, he knows that bounty hunters can be ruthless like any enemy and they would try to hit on his weaknesses just to get the worst of him, just enough to make a mistake.

But what were Cobb Vanth´s weaknesses? He wasn’t sure, so far he grew a soft spot for the young stranger.

Her behavior towards him was amusing for him. It was a normal reaction not to trust each other, and yet he felt her long stares, quick looking aways followed by a frown and a tiny blush. He chuckled thinking about it.

He was aware of his appearance, he noticed when women stared at him a little longer, followed by flirty smiles or nervous giggles but it didn’t bother him. Cobb barely had time to flirt back or give them too much attention. There was a lot in his mind, responsibilities, and more. He kept those ideas away and tried to focus on the facts around the accident.

Two bounty hunters were after a young girl. He found a trashed puck but the bounty in the hologram was not her. There was a bag with different pieces that reminded him of Jawas. So, that made her a scavenger, stole from them by mistake and they followed.

The Marshal didn’t have much time to ask her anything about those two cause she passed out in his arms. He was quite surprised how long she endured after the crash and the beat up. That last part made him angry. He would get more intel if he let one of them alive but there was no reason to spare a woman beater's life.

The bruises on the redhead were not severe; puffy cheeks, a black eye, small scratches but the wounded knee worried him the most. It would take her a couple of days to walk and maybe keep up on the road or wherever she is going.

He needed to decide how long he would let the girl stay and not make the villagers anxious about her cause they didn’t like strangers at all. These are hard times and you can’t trust everybody you meet.

That cold night, he was guarding outside the town, keeping an eye in the dark desert, hoping no man or creature would dare to step a foot in his town; A long watch.

He didn’t mind staying there in the cold, after all, he couldn’t patch his eyes at home. All those nightmares kept him awake and just rolling around. He didn’t want to remember all over again when the red-hot steel was burning his skin. He kept his mind on the moment and not in the past. Besides, the new guest/prisoner needed a place to rest.

Was she a prisoner? She didn’t resist the arrest, it was like she had no other choice. It was hard to believe that such a fragile and delicate figure would be dangerous. He didn’t find any weapons in her belongings, there was a bag with random items and pieces to improve a small speeder.

Maybe she stole from the wrong people, the bounty hunters, but they didn’t kill her right away so, there must be something else.

His mind shook off all the ideas and focused on a moving shape. He rose the rifle and waited for a moment.

The old Dewback made a few grunts while stomping his way on the sand. His steps slowed down before it collapsed, breathing heavily. At any time, scavengers would come out to eat the agonizing old beast.

He thought about putting it down to ease its pain, but the noise would bring out something big and mean.

The Marshal observed another food chain example.  

…

Screams heard in the darkness.

Her feet felt heavy but didn’t dare to stop. Blasters and explosions just felt closer. Space was getting smaller each time and all the bodies squeezed together trying to breathe when the water reached them. The cage was closed, no one else was allowed to come out, they were left behind. They begged for help, for mercy but the faceless shooters couldn’t tell the difference. Extermination was everything in their program. She backed off to escape until she felt the heavy hand around her throat.

She gasped. The heartbeats pounding in her ears, trying to scream but she couldn’t open her mouth, unable to utter a sound and unable to move.

What seemed an eternity was probably no more than a few minutes when she found herself able to move again. A violent reaction followed by the struck of reality. There was no cage, no water, or hand around her throat. She couldn’t place her thoughts properly.

Her first move was to kick the bedsheets away. Her leg was burning and the other one was not enough to hold her weight. She groaned in pain but stop when the footsteps approached the room.

Nath did her best to sat up and reached the first object to cause enough damage to her captor; a bottle. It was still pretty dark so it was hard to tell. The adrenaline kept pumping in her veins.

The large shadow walked in and, she let out a mighty roar and jumped over it to smash a bottle on its head. The shadow stumbled with her, both crashing the ground. He struggled to keep her hands away from him as she swung her fists furiously.

“Hey! It's me!” He yelled while dodging the fists.

She was lost in her thoughts and kept fighting. He quickly wrapped his legs around her waist to shift the position to overpower her.

“Stop it, Nathsca!” His hands pinned her down on the floor. She wiggled trying to set herself free from his grip.

She fought for a few moments, then huffed and looked back at her captor. It was hard to tell. Both of them were panting and not moving in the darkness, the heartbeat was drumming in her ears, her breath was warm just like his. Her eyes widen when she realized how small was the space between them, feeling each other´s heat and shaking. She didn’t dare to move or saying anything.

“It´s the Marshal,” He spoke softly to break the tension “You had an accident and I brought you here, remember?” Trying to read her expression in the dark.

Nath focused on his words when the memories jumped back. The chase, her speeder crashing and her face buried in sand, the burning slap across her face and then thuds. Two dead hunters and the armored man. She took a deep breath.

“I'm letting you go, alright?” Cobb said.

She was not sure to reply or make any sound, she nodded lightly. Cobb drops the grip on her wrists and moved back slowly. He sat back and kept his distance before checking on her. Nath rested her back against the wall and winced when she tried to stretch her leg.

Cobb studied her body language and sighed. Maybe he went hard on her but she was being erratic and needed to calm down. Pretty strong for a little lady, he thought.

“Where am I exactly?” She asked.

“Mos Pelgo, my place.” He cleared his throat after feeling her murderous glare. “This is a small community, the folks didn’t feel comfortable having you around and, I offered my place, so you could rest. And dont worry, I just arrived, we are not that kind of place.”

“Which kind of place then?”

“Just a town trying to survive, not letting trouble bite our asses again.” He stood up and offered his hand. The woman looked at him for a moment and took it.

She hopped her way back in bed to sit down. Cobb stood right in front of her and folded his arms getting pretty serious. There was a long silence before he spoke up.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, are you bringing trouble to the town?”

“I'm not planning on staying.” Nath glared him.

“That´s not what I am asking. I mean, two bounty hunters right after you, you must have quite a story for that, miss.”

“None of your business.” She snapped.

“Is my business if you are a guest in my town.” He kept a serious expression.

Nath just rolled her eyes and drummed her feet on the floor while thinking what to say and what not to say. She didn’t want to get into so many details and share her matters.

“I stole from them.”

“That´s pretty obvious but what did you steal exactly? Cause I don’t think two bounty hunters took so much trouble to chase you just for missing parts.”

Her eyes darted him and frowned. She just decided that she didn’t like this man. He was asking too much like he was a real law figure, which was rare around this planet.

“I don't know. I just took off. Look, mister, if we are gonna have a problem cause I'm staying in your dead town is fine. Just give me back my belongings and I'm out.”

“And walk by yourself in the desert and risk to fall in a sarlac pit cause you don’t know the area?”

“I´ll take my chances.”

Cobb huffed and rubbed his temples to keep his cool. This woman is stubborn, he thought.  

��I'm sorry, I can’t let you go by yourself.”

“You don’t need to worry about me, is not like you are my father.” She folded her arms and frowned.

“No, but I'm in charge of this town.” He moved close enough to look right into her eyes.

“What is that suppose to mean?” She did her best to keep it with the stare.

“That I'm responsible for everyone in here, and that includes you. So, this is what’s gonna happen. You will stay a day or two until that leg gets better but I need to know what’s coming after you.” He had an intense stare, probably the same one he had while shooting down those hunters.

“Cause whatever comes, will find you and take you down easily and, if he pleases, he will stop by the town. I can’t let that happen. So, if it's necessary, I will make you the first prisoner in Mos Pelgo.”

“Are you putting me in a cage?”

“Or a box, your choice.”

“And you expect me to trust you after saying you are gonna put me in a box? Wow.”

He sighed quite exasperated and shook his head. He was just arguing with a stubborn brat that had no interest or respect for the town.

“Listen, I'm just trying to find a solution so no one gets harmed. You are just a kid.”

“I'm not a kid, I can look after myself and always have.” She snapped again. She hated it when people underestimate her or call her kid.

“So, here’s your solution. I'm leaving. I'm not gonna follow your orders just cause you wear a stupid armor and think you can control everyone.”

Cobb sighed in frustration and took a deep breath, he was too tired to keep arguing with her.

“Fine. You are free to go whenever you want.” He was about to exit the room and stopped for a moment.

“Just don’t do something that would harm the town. These are good people if that means something for you. I suppose thieves don’t know much about loyalty.”

Her words sank when he exited the room. She would argue with him or anyone for hours but, that last one did hurt. She was loyal to those she cared or loved, but right now, she was uneasy about everyone after her crew betrayed her.

He betrayed her for what? Crystals? Beskar? She didn’t even want to open that canister again to know her answer.

Nath just curled back in bed, lost in her thoughts, studying the rounded walls in the small room.

She even felt guilty staying there, in his bed, wondered where he might sleep now. Her temper, that stupid temper always got her in trouble. Being rude towards people that are nice to her, like the Marshal.

He saved her from the hunters, patched her up, gave up his bed, and still, she backlashed at him like she was arguing with someone else.

What was this thing about the Marshal that made her angry?

She didn’t even ask for his name.

#Cobb Vanth #cobb vanth x reader #cobb vanth fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #cobb vanth x oc

[short-shuichi-au-blog]

Overemotional Chapter two

TW for Self Harm, blood, and cutting.

Shuichi woke up where he chose to sleep. On the floor with his face in the pillow. He did not want to leave. Couldn't he just waste away in here?

He sighed, pushing himself up. But Kaede might come looking for him. So Shuichi dragged himself to the bathroom and brushed his hair. Then nervously made his way to the dining hall. He pulled on his hair trying to distract himself and stay calm.

Shuichi felt like everyone was staring holes into his small body. He sat the farthest he could from everyone. His anxiety started to climb higher as a whine escaped him.

"Dude don't tell me you're going to start crying again." Kaito already sounded annoyed by Shuichi's emotions. "A man shouldn't cry so easily, what exactly are you even crying about?"

Shuichi muffled his beginning of a sob then sped out before he could even decide if he wanted to eat. He didn't know what upset him more, that crying wasn't manly or that Kaito was sick of the snooper's emotions. He slowed to catch his breath and shakily made his way to his dorm room.

He cried as he pulled the sharp object out of his sleeve. Shuichi needed to control these emotions of his right now. He pulled his left sleeve up and began to reopen the scars on his arms. He wouldn't stop until he stopped crying so much.

Shuichi would probably show his face again after he got his tears out of his system. Kokichi didn't have much to do while eating so he minded his own business and did not eavesdrop on Kaede and Kaito's conversation.

That's a lie, that's exactly what he was doing.

"Kaito! How many people here are going to scare Shuichi off?" Kaede glared at the spaceman with her arms crossed.

"Shuichi's not a child, he doesn't need to cry every time he hears something he doesn't like." He argued back. "It's going to get annoying if he does this constantly."

"Should someone check on him?" Kiibo asked looking as nervous as a robot could get close to a nervous look.

No, Kokichi is not taking the thought back.

"Why would Shuichi want to see a heartless robot?" Rubbing in the fact Kiibo was the first one to make Shuichi upset. Making the robot irritated and upset.

It wasn't working, Shuichi dropped the knife. He felt dizzy and fuzzy. His vision was darkening. The snooper did not want to experience this kind of death. He whimpered, crying even more. His throat hurt from the sobbing. He couldn't hold his body up, he passed out before he even hit the floor.

Kokichi had been walking to his room when he heard a sound inside Shuichi's. He could only describe it if something had fallen.

He knocked on the door, laughing slightly. "Shuichi don't throw yourself on the floor."

A tense silence is the response back.

"Heeey! Come on, don't ignore me!" He pushed the door open and instantly wished he didn't.

Shuichi looked he had simply collapsed.

With a bleeding arm covered in cuts, the blade had fallen a few feet away.

He wasn't breathing or showing any sign he was alive.

The silence was uncomfortable. You'd think something would be happening, like him leaving as if he saw nothing. But instead, he actually looked around the room. It's a bit hard to explain what's on the desk. It looked complicated. The headphones Shuichi usually had on were turned off.

Kokichi cast another glance to the motionless snooper. Did the events earlier affect him that much to drive him to suicide? He turned to the bed. It showed no proof of a person laying on it. But there was a pillow and blanket on the floor so that must be where Shuichi slept.

He lost track of time as he observed the room, he almost made it out the door when he heard someone groan. Kokichi spun around to witness a surprising sight.

Called, Shuichi was not dead apparently. He seemed dazed as he weakly propped himself up. Then started shivering as if it's chilly. The leader grabbed the blanket and tossed it on Shuichi.

"You sure got some explaining to do, how are you alive from bleeding out?"

Shuichi mumbled something softly that didn't sound like words.

"Guess we're getting Kirumi since you're not speaking English right now."

Kokichi tried to get the other to walk but it seemed the lack of blood made his steps shaky.

"Shuichi, come on, don't you want help?"

"I...it's alright, you... don't need to be bothered with me..."

Shuichi was so damn stubborn. It would be easy to leave him with his stupidity but he had already made the decision and would not be responsible if the male made the choice to just die again whatever the heck that was about.

"Stop being so stubborn, you're dying from blood loss."

He whined. "B...But I can b...barely w...walk."

"Just try."

"O...okay."

They managed out of the room when Shuichi spoke up again.

"Where even is Kirumi?"

Ah, good question.

Hopefully, soon they'll run into her. Shuichi soon started stumbling, getting worse.

"Maybe we should give up, I don't think I can stand any longer."

Shuichi tried his best to keep his balance by leaning against Kokichi but it was getting tiring and his eyes stung with tears.

"Fine."

The boy thought that meant they were done wasting time, but apparently not.

To get this done faster he would have to carry him also Shuichi couldn't walk another step.

He made a surprised noise while Kokichi began annoyingly calling for Kirumi. Which meant he was just calling out 'mom' repeatedly.

Luckily she seemed to be washing dishes so not too hard but it still was a long search.

"What is it Kokichi?" She sighed in irritation at being called that.

"Shuichi's dying!" Kokichi sounded dramatic as hell but Shuichi looked like life was sucking up his life-force.

He raised his arm to show the maid the problem. The blood had dried at this point but that not make it suddenly good to look at. Kokichi set the snooper down in one of the seats then took off leaving the boy in Kirumi's care

Hope to god that Shuichi doesn't do something stupid like that again. It's not the smartest action for someone who admitted he had no control over his emotions.

Shuichi must have dozed off or was out for the usual thirty minutes because he no longer was at the table. He slowly sat up, looked at himself, and raised an eyebrow.

"W...Where am I?"

"Shuichi!"

His golden eyes rested on Kaede, who knows how long she's been there.

"Whe...Where am I?"

"Well, um, Kirumi said that you told her you almost accidentally killed yourself. Your arm got bandaged after being cleaned, but you had lost a lot of blood." She and Shuichi both looked at his covered arm.

"And where am I?" He really wanted Kaede to just get to the point.

"Then Monokuma, the only good thing he's done, revealed this hospital."

"So that's why I'm wearing this weird thing."

Despite the situation, Kaede could not help but laugh a bit. "Have you never been to a hospital?"

Shuichi sighed slowly. "No, I've never had to." He spied a cup of water on a...nightstand like surface next to the bed. He couldn't tell. But he thinks he needed to drink it so that's what he did.

Luckily he didn't need to stay there for a long amount of time. But it felt like his emotions were getting worse. His nervousness had transformed into a bigger form of anxiety. Maybe dying would have been better.

Shuichi groaned as he rolled repeatedly unable to get comfortable on the damn floor. He just wasn't used to a bed. If only someone would come in and beat the shit out of him. He wanted to be hit or kicked for his overemotional behavior. He didn't want anyone to be nice to him.

He doesn't deserve anything like that. He could practically hear how disappointed Sin would be if he knew Shuichi was getting kindness when he did nothing to earn it.

The next morning Shuichi tracked down Kokichi outside to...ask him a question.

"I need to ask you something." Was his very first words because he could throw in a teasing comment probably about yesterday. "And I need a serious answer, my sanity depends on it."

Kokichi throws his arms behind his head, "No promises."

Shuichi sighed. "Whenever I cry for no reason as pathetic as it is...do you ever feel the urge to hit me?" He could hear how meek and distressed he was.

Kokichi stared blankly at him while the snooper's gaze spelled out the anxiety. He could feel his body shaking from the overwhelming panic. Shuichi shook his head.

"Nevermind, I'm sorry." He runs off not even taking one last look back.

He didn't want to wake up, he didn't want to get up. Shuichi did not want to go to the dining hall and bother anyone else. He...also awoke to feel strangely hot. Usually, this only happened when he overworked, however, he hadn't been doing that at all.

Maybe if I lay here long enough, I'll somehow waste away.

A knock on the door made him let out a quiet groan. Just let him suffer.

#danganronpa v3 killing harmony #Short Shuichi AU #Snooper Shuichi #Overemotional #kokichi ouma #kiibo #kaito momota #kaede akamatsu #kirumi tojo #called a man but got shamed for crying #TW self harm

[lesbianlovelanguage]

i want to feel something (i’m numb inside)

It’s another HfBLM Prompt for imperfectabstraction on AO3, who requested pining!Billy who’s bad at communication. Thank you endlessly for your donation!! 

Also a huge ass thank you to @gideongrace for your patience and help in me writing this and basically betaing it. I love you so much. 

Read it on AO3 here or below the cut

-----

1. Welcome to Hawkins. 

Billy had been attending Hawkins High for two weeks when he realized what was happening. 

It wasn’t anything special, no fireworks or butterflies, but instead a cold frustration frosting over him. Because he realized he had a crush. On the most popular and decidedly straight boy in the miserable town of Hawkins, Indiana. Neil’s beatings could never compare to the sinking feeling in Billy’s gut when Steve Harrington stood in front of their english class and gave a frankly terrible report on Moby-Dick . 

It certainly wasn’t Harrington’s presentation that made Billy recognize his crush, but the way his soft hair shined and he stood tall and confident even as the words that poured from his mouth were utter bullshit . 

Billy had always been a sucker for confidence and cockiness. 

But once Harrington had sat down, and was thus out of Billy’s sightlines, the warmth that came with a new crush turned to the familiar iciness, and it felt as if a great gaping maw had opened below him. 

Even after the bell rang and the classroom emptied out, Billy was stuck in his head. 

It wasn’t fair, he thought. He was supposed to hate everyone and everything about this town, and be fucking thankful when he got to put everything in his rearview mirror. But here he was with a ridiculous crush. 

It wouldn’t couldn’t change his plans. Billy was resolute to not act upon his feelings, to avoid Harrington at every turn. 

That resolution to ignore Harrington stayed for the next 5 periods, until he got to basketball practice. Harrington was clearly in his element on the court, no math problems or english reports here. Just sheer athleticism and strategy. And it made Billy angry. Because he couldn’t do anything about Harrington’s breathless panting or the way he was clearly showing off. So Billy did what he always did when he was angry.

He played dirty.

He used every trick in the book to trip up Harrington, guarding him by pushing every body part up against Harrington, using even the tiniest of openings to steal the ball, and he rammed into Harrington to steal the ball. He showed off a little, bolstered by the knowledge that Harrington’s focus was entirely upon him, the anger replaced by the feeling of pride. 

When he landed after dunking the ball, he turned and continued to use the excitement of being Harrington’s sole focus to bound over to the tangled heap of lanky limbs and pale, creamy skin. He even put out a hand to help him up before he came back to himself, violently. 

What was he doing? This is the exact opposite of ignoring Harrington . 

He tried to save face by growling some stupid one-liner about planting his feet, and then dropped him like a sack of potatoes. 

When Harrington popped back up and ignored Billy completely to chase after the ice princess herself, he shook his head and continued to play. This time, his showing off and dirty moves turned vicious as he continued to foul right and left before the coach was forced to bench him. He tried to shrug off the anger and left to take a shower. 

Thankfully the showers stayed empty, and Billy was able to escape. After the disaster that was basketball practice, he decided to firmly clamp down his feelings and avoid Steve Harrington at all costs. 

2. Can’t Ignore Him Anymore 

Billy was having a bad night, to say the least . 

His plan to head off to Indianapolis and the nearest gay bar with a loose ID policy was ruined because his shitbird step-sister decided to fuck off with her weird ass friends, probably with Sinclair even though he tried to warn her that Neil wouldn’t be happy. He had proof of what happened when Neil wasn’t happy blooming on his back too. At least it wasn’t worse, he thought with a grimace. He wasn’t sure when walking away with bruises had become lucky but it was what it was.

And now he had to run all over Hawkins to find the little shitbird, and with every house that sent him somewhere else his admittedly small patience was dwindling. By the time he was pulling into the dark driveway of the Byer’s house, he was itching for a fight. 

And then Steve fucking Harrington walked out of the house. Because God hated him.

Or at least, it felt like the Big Man hated him as Harrington sauntered towards him, dish towel casually tossed over one shoulder and hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

“Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?” He felt himself call out before fully processing the words. 

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.” Harrington sounded blase in his response, but a faint blush appeared on his cheeks as Billy took off his jacket. Interesting. As he walked towards Harrington, a familiar bush of bright red hair popped in and out of the window and shocked Billy back to reality. He stopped, leaving plenty of space between himself and Harrington, enough to hopefully let him keep a clear head. 

“What are you doing here, amigo?” Billy taunted. Maybe he would finally see some action tonight, at least enough to wipe the bitter taste that flirting with Mrs. Wheeler left in his mouth. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Harrington retorted, sounding exactly like a fifth grader. 

“Well, I would. ‘S why I asked, cause I don’t really like the picture that’s being painted here. Max goes missing all day, and then I find her here in some stranger’s house, with you of all people. See what I’m seeing, Pretty Boy?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean, me of all people?” Of course Harrington would pick up on that. 

“What does King Steve want with a thirteen-year-old girl? Not a great look man.” The adrenaline bubbled up in Billy’s stomach in anticipation of a fight, fists clenching and skin buzzing. But Harrington never reacted how Billy expected, and this was no exception. 

“Yeah, but letting demon monsters kill a group of pre-teens isn’t so great either,” he said casually, as if his words would make a lick of sense. Billy gaped a little before shaking his head and laughing a bitter, mean laugh.

“You’re digging your own grave man. I just wanted my step-sister, but it looks like I’m gonna have to kick your ass.” That was the only warning he gave before closing the distance and swinging. Harrington went down like a sack of potatoes and Billy couldn’t help the smugness in his voice when he bent over and spit, “Told you to plant your fucking feet, Princess.” He then stepped over Harrington’s sprawled body and walked inside. 

He noticed all of the usual brats that hang off of Harrington, but his gaze zeroed in on Lucas. All of the anger and frustration Billy had felt over the course of the night collided into one comprehensible thought.

He had warned her. 

He wasn’t proud of what he did, but at least he had the ability to stop. He just wanted to scare the kid, hoping that if he couldn’t warn Max he could scare the kid off before Neil got involved. 

If he got involved, he wouldn’t stop, not until Sinclair was really hurt. Or even dead.  

Billy didn’t like himself while he was doing it, knew that his behavior was revolting and monstrous, but he was willing to play the bad guy if it kept the gremlins from the real bad guy. He was thankful when Harrington forced him around and clocked him in the face. Then he had something better to focus his rage and fear on. 

They were in the middle of fighting when Billy thought he lost his mind. He had grabbed the fridge door, planning to use it to clock Harrington in the head, when a thing fell out. It didn’t move from it’s spot on the kitchen floor but it left a trail of something slimy and Billy went mental. 

“What the actual fuck. Someone had ten seconds to explain what this is,” he growled, and was promptly educated about the Upside Down, demogorgons, and something the brats called The Mind Flayer. Apparently Hawkins was housing some horror movie level shit, and of course Harrington was involved. So much for ignoring him forever.

  3. Summer Sweetness

Billy didn’t just enjoy summer. He thrived in the summer. The sun, the heat, the smell of the ocean and the sound of busy beaches filled him with a happiness even Neil couldn’t touch. There were no ocean waves that summer, but chlorine was a close substitute. Anything was better than the disgusting stench of cowshit that seemed to permeate Hawkins in the fall. 

And even better was the silent agreement he had made with one Steve Harrington. 

It started at Prom. Billy had agreed to go with some girl, he hadn’t bothered to remember her name, only to get the promposals to stop. It was a good ego boost at first, but after six in four class periods, it got exhausting to try and politely decline. So, the seventh girl who came up to him with a big home-made card practically dripping in glitter got a ‘Yes’ from the Billy Hargrove. Ridiculous.

He made the mistake of telling Max somewhere that Neil could overhear him, so he ended up having to rent a limo and buy a corsage and dress up in a full tux. All for a thing he didn’t want to go to with a girl he didn’t care about. To just get through the night, he ended up downing an entire bottle of tequila by himself. 

The next morning he would definitely be blaming the tequila, but he would be lying to himself that it was the only reason he did what he did. 

It had been building for a long time, but it wasn’t until he saw Steve in the bathroom furthest from the gym that he realized what it was. 

He had stumbled down the darkened hallways of Hawkins High, desperate for the escape a cigarette would bring him. He knew the bathroom in the english hall had a busted fire alarm, so he made a beeline towards it. He was so focused on pulling the pack out and lighting up, he failed to notice there was someone else, not until they cleared their throat. His head shot up, ready to fight, only to be met with big brown eyes and pale creamy skin. 

“Oh hey, Pretty Boy. What are you doing here?” He tried to play it casual, not letting on that blood was rushing in his ears and his heart was in his throat. 

“Could ask you the same question. I’m pretty sure Colleen is asthmatic, won’t appreciate the nicotine smell,” he said, gesturing to the cigarette he had just lit up. It took him a minute to figure out who the fuck Colleen was, until he realized it was the date he had abandoned in the gym.

“Pretty sure she won’t care what I smell like, if you know what I mean.” Billy waggled his eyebrows and dragged his tongue along his bottom lip. He was caught off guard though, when Steve’s pupils dilated. Interesting. 

“You’re nasty,” Steve tried to cover the few seconds of silence, but Billy was a shark who had smelt blood. 

“Oh really, Stevie?” He asked before taking a long drag of his cigarette and blowing it towards Steve. “You don’t like the idea of Colleen and I getting freaky? What’s a little locker room talk between amigos after all?” He smirked before going in for what he hoped was the kill. “Unless… You’re jealous?” His smirk only grew as Steve stuttered, trying to form a rebuttal.

“I am not jealous of Colleen. I feel bad for her, going to one of the most special nights with you.” Steve’s words were meant to cut, but Billy could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

“Never said you were jealous of Colleen, Stevie. But if you are, I think I have a solution.” That was the only warning he gave Steve before walking over to be right in front of him. They were so close their shoes were touching, and Billy could smell the smoke on Steve’s breath. 

“Seems a little hypocritical to yell at me about smoking when you were doing the same thing.” Billy may have noticed that Steve wasn’t the best in school, but he would never say the boy was slow. He seemed to get with the picture pretty quickly.

“Oh yeah?” His voice was breathy and soft. “You gonna do something about it?”

“I think I have to. It wouldn’t be right if I just ignored it.” 

“Well, what are you waiting for? Do it,” Steve challenged. And Billy never backed down from a challenge. He lunged forward the few feet between them and smashed his lips against Steve’s. 

The kiss wasn’t nice or gentle. It was a battle between two wild animals, only softened when Steve’s hands snuck up Billy’s back and tugged on the golden ringlets. Billy broke the kiss with a moan and Steve grinned. 

“Like that, tiger?” 

“Shut up and get back here,” was Billy’s only response before they collided again. Shaky hands unbuttoned shirts. As soon as Steve’s torso was exposed, Billy moved down to suck what was sure to be an impressive hickey along Steve’s collarbone, unable to resist marking the pale skin. 

Steve’s moan was loud as Billy moved his hands from the small of his back to his thighs and picked him up. Like he was nothing. He was placed on the edge of a sink, and then Billy moved down Steve’s chest, kissing every mole he could find. After successfully making his way down to his knees, Billy unzipped Steve’s pants and proceeded to rock the boy’s damn world. 

  That was the only time they had sex during school, but it wasn’t the last time they had hooked up, far from it in fact. He was dropping Max off at the ice cream shop, Scoops Ahoy, when he saw Steve again. He was in a truly ridiculous parody of a sailor’s costume and Billy wanted to eat him alive. 

He was surprised to find the feeling was mutual. He walked up to the counter to tease Steve about the uniform, and somehow ended up in the storage room getting his dick sucked this time. 

The summer proceeded to pass like that, until some time in July when Steve said he couldn’t keep having sex at work and gave Billy his phone number with a wink. Then Billy started sneaking into Steve’s bedroom at ungodly hours and left before the sun had risen. 

But all good things came to an end, and Billy was nothing if not a coward. As soon as August came around, and the pool closed, Billy took all of his savings and the four boxes it had taken to pack up everything he cared about, and left. Without a word, a text, or a note. He ran away from Hawkins, ran from his father, and from Steve, who had started talking about having movie nights and cooking dinner together and other domestic crap fuck buddies weren’t supposed to do together. 

He ran.

4. Hey Pretty Boy, Long Time No See

Billy loved Chicago. He had moved there with plans of just saving up enough to fly back to Los Angeles, but a year into living there he had fallen in love. Sure there were things he hated, like the winters and the tourists, but there were so many more things to love.

Like the food, and the people he had met. Both of which he was enjoying on a perfect summer’s day. And to top it all off, he was finally going to get a tattoo. 

Robin, a girl he had met through work and then started to hang out with after running into her at the annual Pride Parade, had convinced him to finally indulge in it, helped him work out what exactly he wanted, and even gave him a recommendation for a guy at her shop that specialized in the style of tattoos that Billy had decided he wanted. 

So, on the day of his appointment, he met Robin during her lunch break where they grabbed some tacos from a street car and walked back to her shop. Billy was silent, nervous as hell, but luckily Robin was enough of a chatterbox to fill the silence and keep it from getting awkward.

“You will love Steve, Billy. Swear to God he’s one of the sweetest people I’ve met.” She let out a small huff. “Of course he’s a total dingus, but so are you. Boom. Match made in Heaven.” She waved her hand around, almost dropping her taco, and Billy couldn’t help but laugh at her antics. 

That laughter died in his throat though, and he nearly choked on his own spit, as they walked through the door of The Mind Flayer Tattoos and Piercing because behind the desk was a face he never thought he would see again. 

Steve Harrington. 

Of course he had fantasized about this moment, had dreamed about those Bambi eyes and impish grin, even years later as it was. He had tried to distract himself, tried to move on, but he quickly realized it wasn’t working. Once he realized he had been silently comparing every other guy to Steve, he gave up, resigned himself to being alone, and had gotten a cat. 

Just like in high school though, all of his resolve to move on disappeared when faced with Steve Harrington. 

The years since high school had clearly been kind to him, and while Billy had always thought he was pretty, now he was downright gorgeous. His hair was still perfectly styled, but he had grown it out so that the ends just barely touched his shoulders. He was also wearing a pair of stylish glasses with thin golden frames that glinted softly in the warm lighting of the tattoo parlor. Most notably though, Billy could clearly see his left arm where it rested next to a book he bent over, and it was covered in a beautiful, intricate tattoo sleeve. All Billy wanted in that moment was to trail his fingertips over the black lines that formed shapes that resembled flowers. Looking closer though, he realized some of the flowers actually held rows and rows of teeth, and mixed in was the rough outline of a baseball bat with nails. It was a mural dedicated to his experiences that one fall day, a constant reminder of what he had been through.

Steve finally looked up at them as Robin led Billy to the counter, and he clearly recognized Billy, as his mouth dropped open and his eyes widened.

“Holy shit.”

Billy felt a small smile form as he lifted a hand and waved awkwardly at the boy he had left behind. “Hiay Pretty Boy. Long time, no see.” He had hoped that the nickname would lighten the mood, but instead Steve’s shock was replaced by hard lines and tense shoulders.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” His voice was dripping in hostility, making Billy flinch slightly before tensing up as well. He knew he was the one in the wrong, but fuck if that had ever stopped him from being the weak one. 

Robin beat Billy to a response however, letting out a small noise before looking quickly between the two boys.

“I think I’m missing something here, and that something is big,so I’m jist going to walk over here and let you two work it out. Please don’t kill each other.” Despite the lingering angst in the air, both boys couldn’t hold back a chuckle as Robin walked away from them and disappeared into the back room. As the door swung shut though, and they were alone in the shop, the tension could be cut with a knife. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Steve said with a sigh, and all Billy could do was nod and follow him to a prepared work station in the back corner of the open-plan parlor. 

He double checked where the tattoo was going, on his right shoulder, and then gently placed the stencil on and smoothing it over. He removed the plastic to reveal a purple version of the tattoo and then nodded to where a full length mirror had been hung on the wall. 

Billy checked how it laid, and took in how the design had turned out once again. He had seen the draft in an email, but to see it on his body was an entirely different experience. It was a depiction of the beach, detailed with old school flowers and a setting sun, and a perfect symbol of Billy’s origins. He had decided that while he didn’t want to return to California, he wanted a reminder of the peace an evening on the beach brought him. 

Having confirmed that it was perfectly placed, he returned to the workstation and settled into the chair. The tension remained as Steve silently placed his arm in the best position and loaded the gun with ink. He returned to Billy’s side and sighed.

“You need to relax if you want me to actually do this.”

“Sorry, Pretty Boy. Guess you just fill me with butterflies,” Billy shot back, trying to regain some of the bravado that had conveniently left him. Steve snorted before setting down the tattoo gun and muttering Jesus and rubbing at his temple. 

“If we’re gonna do this, you gotta cut that shit out.”

“What shit?” 

“The- the fucking flirting and the nicknames. That shit.” 

“Sorry, Pretty Boy,” he emphasized the name with a cocky smirk. “It’s just part of the Hargrove charm.”

“Well if you want a good tattoo, you’ll dial back the Hargrove bullshit. Now take a deep breath and fucking relax.” Billy gave a sarcastic salute before deliberately taking a deep breath and dropping his shoulders. Steve rolled his eyes, but reserved all his smart comments in favor of starting the tattoo. 

They sat in relative silence, only broken by the gentle whir of the tattoo gun and Steve occasionally reminding Billy to not hold his breath. It wasn’t until Steve muttered a soft, “Halfway there tiger,” that he found the courage to break the silence. Whether consciously or not, Steve had used one of his favorite pet names for Billy and that action alone gave him hope that he hadn’t ruined their relationship completely when he left.

“Nice tats Harrington,” he said casually, nodding at his left arm. Steve snorted.

“Thanks. Of course, you know the whole story behind it. Robin and everyone at the shop just think it’s some insane movie monster they’ve never heard of.” 

“Yeah, not exactly the easiest thing to explain to people,” Billy agreed, nodding his head.

“As chill as Robs can be, I think if I tried to tell her I fought off intergalactic demon dogs with a nail bat and a group of four middle schoolers she would check me into the nearest institute.” 

Billy faked an offended gasp. “It wasn’t all middle schoolers, I was there too. Saved your ass at one point too.” 

“Bullshit you saved me. If I recall, you screamed like a little bitch until Max threatened you with my bat and then stole your keys. If she hadn’t threatened to drive your car I think you would never have come with.” There was a fire in Steve’s eyes now, a warmth Billy thought he would never be privy to again.

And then Steve looked up from his arm and his face shuttered back into stone. He wiped the excess ink and blood off of his arm and studiously ignored any more attempts Billy made at conversation, which ranged from commenting about the photos littering his workstation to commenting on the fucking weather. Eventually he got the message and shut his trap for the rest of the session. 

Steve walked him through the after-care steps clinically, and he faintly picked up the “wash with antibacterial soap twice a day” and “apply scent-free lotion when it starts flaking”, but his brain was mostly stuck on “touch-ups are free up to six months after the first appointment.” 

He still had a chance. Maybe the shock was too much, but if Steve was offering up the chance to meet again? 

Billy wouldn’t let it slip past.

  5. Let’s Try This Again

Billy loved his tattoo. He made sure to take meticulous care of it, applying lotion religiously and steadfastly ignoring the urge to pick at the peeling skin. Luckily, the amount of sunburns he got back in California prepared him for it pretty well. 

Even if it was healing perfectly, and he was ecstatic about the final result after it had finished peeling, he still decided to talk to Robin about scheduling a touch-up. She had looked it over when he asked while they were grabbing burritos, and told him that he definitely didn’t need a touch up, but when he continued to insist that he wanted another appointment she looked at him skeptically and agreed. 

He had it scheduled for a month after his initial appointment, and the weeks seemed to drag by as he eagerly awaited his second- well, technically third- chance with Steve.The day of, he and Robin agreed to the same schedule of grabbing lunch and then walking over to the shop together, but instead of Robin filling the silence, Billy instead prattled on about a couple cases he was looking over and how well they were going. As much as he could without breaking the NASW Code of Ethics of course. 

Robin nodded along agreeable and made all the right noises in the right places, but she was overall quieter than usual, until the shop got into view. 

A block away from the neon sign, she stopped them both and turned to Billy. “I’ve been pretty patient, but I have to know before we walk in there. What is the deal between you and Steve?” 

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about, Brat. There’s no story there,” Billy tried to brush it off and keep walking, but Robin was surprisingly strong for her slender frame. She grabbed his arm and forced him to stop. 

“That’s a blatant lie, and I can’t let you in there if you’re on some sort of weird revenge quest or something. He was seriously shaken up after your session, and I love you, but I love the dingus too.” She paired the serious tone of her voice with stern eye contact and a slight tightening of her hand on his bicep. 

“Jesus Robin,” Billy said, shrugging off her vice-like grip, “It’s nothing like that, I swear. If anything, I’m trying to fucking apologize.” She just raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with his explanation. “Fine. We went to high school together and I fucked up in a big way, alright? I regret it, and I want to try and make it up to him.” 

“Yeah, well. You seem to have forgotten that this-” she emphasized with a sharp point at the parlor “-is his work. His job. He doesn’t deserve you pestering him here of all places. Just do what everyone else does and fucking ask him out to coffee.” 

Feeling slightly chastised as only Robin could do, he looked down at the scuffs on his work boots and muttered, “Yeah, whatever.” 

Finally satisfied, she continued their walk to The Mind Flayer Tattoo and Piercings Shop, Billy trailing two steps behind her. 

The little bell tinkled again as the door opened, but this time Steve wasn’t at the front desk. Instead a tan woman with long, curly, dark hair was popping bubble gum and casually scrolling through her iPhone. All of the frustration seemed to seep out of Robin at once as she squealed, “Heather!” and launched herself at the girl behind the desk. 

Letting Robin and Heather do their thing, Billy wandered over to where he could see the top of Steve’s head peeking over the low wall of his work station. He could see that all of his focus was on a drawing pad, where he was carefully sketching out something in pencil. He was so in the zone that the tip of his tongue was poking through his teeth. Cute.

Loath as he was to break the peace on Steve’s face, he cleared his throat and called out, “Hey Harrington.” 

Steve, predictably, shot up out of his chair and whirled around to face Billy. “Jesus Christ Billy. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry, amigo. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What, no Pretty Boy?” Steve spit out as he tried to recoup from being startled. The tone brought back the sense of shame Robin had made him feel earlier, and he held up his hands in surrender.

“No, um,” he tried to start. “Actually, I’m here to ask if we could get a cup of joe? Talk some shit out?” Steve seemed startled by the proposal, but masked it with a suspicious glare. 

“Is this some kind of joke? You want to get coffee?” 

“Yeah. I want to- want to explain I guess.” Steve continued to glare at him, but after finding or not finding something, he nodded his head and sighed.

“Fine. Fuck it. You were my last appointment, so why the hell not.” Billy blinked, surprised that it had somehow been that easy to get Steve to agree. Maybe they could work it out, at least enough to be friends again. 

He decided to wait in the front area while Steve packed up his station and grabbed his bag from the back room, nodding at Heather and Robin when they left. 

They mutually agreed to walk the block down to a local coffee shop, called Joe’s Joe. Billy got a black iced coffee while Steve got a complexe medley of coffee, oat milk, and sugar. After they got their drinks, they sat at a table by the window. 

“Do you want to start?” Steve asked.

“I mean, I guess. That’s kind of why we’re here or whatever.” Billy hadn’t wanted to start out hostile, but his nerves were starting to get the best of him. He took a swig of his coffee, letting the scalding heat coat his tongue. “Just, I’m sorry I guess.”

“You’re sorry?” Steve asked indignantly, “For what? Fucking with me for an entire summer? Leaving without a single fucking word? Or just being an all around asshole?” 

“Technically, I was fucking you, not fucking with you,” Billy corrected absentmindedly, before wincing as Steve’s expression grew even more hostile. “Shit, I’m sorry. For- for everything alright? I was a dickhead, I shouldn’t have left but you have to underst-”

“I don’t have to do shit, Hargrove,” Steve interrupted. 

“No, you have to understand that I didn’t have a choice. I packed up and left in the span of like four hours. There wasn’t time to tell you.”

“There wasn’t time to send a fucking text? Call? Something? I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere. I had to find out from Max that you just pissed off to who knows where in the middle of the goddamn night. And you couldn’t bother to send anything? It’s been eight fucking years jackass.” Steve was almost yelling by the end of his rant, panting and visibly trying to calm himself down. 

“It didn’t seem like something to send over text, I just figured it was better to do a clean break. Let you move on.”

“Let me- Fucking hell, you let me move on?” Steve was borderline hysterical at this point. Billy wasn’t sure when he had lost control of the conversation so drastically, but he felt the chances of him and Steve rekindling some sort of friendship slipping away. This wasn’t how he wanted to do this at all. Fuck. 

“Yeah, because you shouldn’t be stuck with someone like me, Pretty Boy. I’m sorry I hurt you but I was stupid and young and I didn’t see any better way to do it.” 

“You fucking broke my heart Billy. You’re gonna have to do a lot better than that,” Steve said, and walked out of the coffee shop. 

  6. Billy Does Better

After the disastrous coffee date, Billy steered clear of everything to do with The Mind Flayer, including Robin. He buried himself in his work, doubled his gym hours, and let the weekends pass by in a haze of cheap whiskey. 

It took Robin a week to decide she was over him avoiding her. She stormed into his apartment on Sunday morning and forced him to take a shower, put on clean clothes and go with her to her apartment. 

Once there, she sat him down on the couch and told him in the sternest voice she had to stay, and then left him to go let in someone else. He really shouldn’t have been surprised at who it was, but he still blinked rapidly when Steve appeared in the doorway. 

“Am I dreaming, or is that you Harrington?” Billy asked, his voice hoarse from the lack of water he had drank in the past 48 hours. 

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.” If Billy sounded hungover, Steve sounded wrecked. He looked like it too, eyes rimmed red and puffy, lips chapped and bitten within an inch of their soft, plush life, and skin even paler than it usually was. Robin dragged him by the back of his shirt over to the couch, next to Billy, and pushed him down. 

“Alright. I tried to give you two assholes space to work it out yourselves, but I am officially over it, so you’re going to figure it out here and now. I’m going to go in the kitchen to make lunch and when I get back, I expect you both to at least stop moping like fucking widows.” She turned on her heel and marched into the kitchen, where she could give them some semblance of privacy, but would still be within ear shot if they decided to kill each other or something. 

Once she disappeared through the doorway, Billy turned hesitantly to face Steve, but when they made eye contact, any words he may have managed to string together left him and he was left there gaping like a fish. Steve saved him the trouble of starting though.

“You were moping?” He asked, voice quiet and defeated. 

“Yeah, Bambi. Pretty heavily too if Robin had to step in.” 

“What were you so upset about? You broke my heart after all.”

“Because I never meant to. I only meant to break my own damn heart, but not yours. Never yours Pretty Boy,” Billy’s voice was dripping in honesty and vulnerability, the dredges of alcohol still in his system making this entire situation exhausting. He just wanted to go back home and sleep until tomorrow. 

“You- you loved me too?” Steve sounded so damn unsure, it hurt Billy to hear. 

“Yeah, of course I loved you. That’s why I had to leave. I couldn’t love you and be under Neil’s roof. He would kill me. He would kill you. So I had to leave.”

“A clean break,” Steve finished for him. He didn’t sound as angry as he had at the coffee shop, more defeated. 

“Exactly.” 

They sat in silence for a few moments that seemed to stretch on for eternity before Steve finally broke it.

“So, where does that leave us?” 

“Can we, can we try friends?” Billy asked hesitantly, eager for any opportunity but scared to push his luck.

“Yeah. I think that could work,” he said with a faint smile. As if on cue, Robin burst through the kitchen door armed with a plate of sandwiches and snacks and declared it a movie night.

  7. Steve Takes A Leap

It had been two months since Robin’s forced intervention, and Steve couldn’t have been more thankful towards her. He had been scared that having Billy back in his life would drag up the memories he tried so hard to hide from, but it was actually refreshing to have someone to call when the memories came back, someone who understood what he was going through. 

He also realized how much he genuinely missed Billy himself. He had grown and changed for sure, but it was only in that he was far less angry all the damn time. Steve had really come to realize just how intense the hold Neil Hargrove had over his son in high school. Now the sharp wit Billy had wielded as a weapon in high school was more playful than hurtful, and his more self-destructive tendencies of driving recklessly and chain-smoking had been replaced by a gym membership and therapy. Apparently, Billy had gone through a lot of therapy. 

With all of the changes, he realized that it was just that much easier to find the Billy he had fallen in love with all those years ago. He had started recognizing the feelings a month into their rekindled friendship, but he waited for another month to make sure the spark was still there, that it wasn’t just him romanticising the past. They had added each other on snapchat and had even started a streak. It was at a solid 55 days that Steve finally made his move. 

It was a simple snap of his work station with the caption What are you doing Saturday night? 

Not even two minutes later he got a response. The picture was of Billy’s coffee mug he kept at his desk and said Nothing, wbu? 

He snapped another hasty shot of his station, replied, Thinking about going out. Wanna join?

Another notification, another shot of his mug. “ Sure. What’s the plan?”

He was in the middle of prepping his station for an appointment in twenty minutes, so it was a quick shot of sterile packaging. Dinner and then hit up a club I know in Boystown?

This time the response was immediate. Sounds good.

Cool, I’ll make a reservation for six? Then club at like 8?

Why do we need a reservation? Want to spoil little old me, Pretty Boy?

The old nickname gave Steve the courage he needed to finally take a selfie and stop beating around the bush. He gave the camera an impish grin and raised eyebrows. I just want to make our first date memorable. 

There was no response to that. Steve waited with bated breath, chewing on his bottom lip anxiously as the minutes ticked by. His appointment had shown up, and he finished the 45 minute session. Still no response. 

Anxiety coursed through him, swirling around in his head. He could see that Billy had opened the picture as soon as he had sent it, a whole hour ago. But no response. No notifications. Nothing. 

Steve tried to reason with himself that maybe he had a meeting or a lot of paperwork or something, but that didn’t stop him from bouncing his leg and fidgeting around until Robin finished her final appointment. 

She only needed to look at him once to know something was up. She decided they were going to dinner together, and they walked to the diner three blocks down in silence.

It wasn’t until they had sent in their orders that Robin finally broke. 

“Okay, what’s going on? I haven’t seen you this nervous since your first date with Julian,” she stated.

“I might have fucked up Robin. Like big time.” She sighed, used to Steve’s dramatic tendencies, and sipped at her strawberry milkshake. 

“I doubt that, but I need more information. So spill.” 

“I asked Billy on a date,” he blurted out, knowing there was no use in bullshitting Robin.

“And? Seems like a logical move, Dingus. I was getting sick of the intense pinning like ten days ago.” 

“But, he left me on read Robin. We were talking about going out on Saturday and then I mentioned it was a date and boom. Radio silence.” 

“Okay, chill out. He was probably busy at work. You know how seriously he takes that shit.” 

“Yeah, but no response for three hours?” He said, voice raising in pitch on the last words. 

“I’m sure there’s some explanation. Have you reached out again?” Robin’s patient and even tone calmed Steve down a little, but his leg still bounced up and down rapidly as he thought over what she said. 

“No. I didn’t want to pressure him.” 

“Just send something unrelated to the date. Like your milkshake. You’ve done it a million times, it’s safe.” 

“Yeah. Okay. I can do that.” He nodded to himself before pulling out his phone, only to see a single snapchat notification amongst the barrage of emails and other random updates. It was from Billy. 

He immediately felt his heart leap into his throat, and Robin reached over to grab his hand that was still resting on the table. 

“Is it from him?” She questioned, deliberately neutral. 

“Yep,” he choked out. His finger shook as he opened up his phone, and he felt paralized by the little blue box letting him know it was a text response. He took a deep breath before clicking on it.

Sorry I was MIA, Pretty Boy. Got busy with work, but I’d love to see where you want to take me. He included a winking and smirking emoji. Steve let out a startled laugh as the anxiety slowly dissipated. 

“Code red officially over. I have a date on Saturday,” he informed Robin, and they finished up dinner with casual conversation about their various appointments throughout the day. They paid and eventually parted ways towards their respective apartments. 

He trudged up the stairs because the elevator in his building was perpetually broken, but stopped in his tracks when his door got within view. There, resting innocently on his doormat, was a simple bouquet of sunflowers and baby’s breath. He gently picked them up and noticed a small piece of cardstock. In simple black scratch it read I am sorry for the no response. I got nervous. Bill.

Steve smiled gently at the note and pulled the flowers close to smell the soft fragrance they held. He felt another wave of confidence swell and push him to walk into the apartment and pick up his phone. He called Billy and waited in excited anticipation for him to pick up. 

“I love them,” he said, and smiled a little more when Billy chuckled.

“I’m glad. They made me think of you.”

“Can’t wait for Saturday,” Steve confessed and Billy finally smiled back. 

“Me too, Pretty Boy. Feels like it’s been years in the making.”

That it had been, but man had it been worth the wait. 

----

tag team: @lostnoise @gideongrace @stevefuckingharrington @a-magey @trashmouth-hargrove @catharrington (lmk if you would like to be added/removed from the list!)

#harringrove for blm #harringrove #a dash of #bucklway #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #pining!billy hargrove #billy hargrove centric #billy hargrove #steve harrington #tay writes #holy shit #i think this is the longest thing I've ever written #minus lost boys

[gabriel4sam]

The weeping stone, a little crossover, the Mummy x Star Wars

 Beta-ed by @wrennette, a little fic The Mummy x Star Wars. 

Under the cut; the fic:

Our story started a long, long time ago and in a galaxy far away and never really ended. There was just a pause. A long pause. Eons passed.

And then it started again, just like that: 

Two men, alone and desperately human, fighting against abominations from the dawn of civilisation. Monsters with a taste for human flesh. One favoured his left side. They made their last stand at the forgotten temple of a forgotten goddess, erased from human memory with great care by Ptolemy III Euergetes, his mages and what would become the Medjai, more than two centuries before the modern era. A forgotten goddess now trying to make a comeback heralded in blood, famine, and other happy events.

Those men should have never left the scene, or only in very, very, very tiny bits.

Sadly for the beasts, that sort of situation had become terrifyingly normal for Jonathan and Ardeth.

Not everybody can have exotic dancers as a bad habit, like most of Jonathan’s Oxford friends.

With a yell like a woodsman putting the last axe wound in a giant tree, Ardeth cut in two the latest giant crocodile with two heads. The left head, apparently not the quickest to apprehend new circumstances, continued to flail a moment. Ardeth watched it carefully, with an air clearly meaning: Try it, if you dare.

Since no one glared like Ardeth, the left head wisely died, instead of incurring his wrath again.

“These things definitely don't conform to the traditional representation,” Jonathan remarked, with the blasé attitude of a man who had become sadly used to giant animals with too many heads, resurrected priests and other fun ways to pass the time in the charming country of Egypt. If he didn’t go bankrupt every time he put a foot on the soil of the Mother country, he would have refused to leave England. There, dead things stayed dead and even if Arthur had risen, Jonathan was sure the lad would have been much more amiable than Imhotep.

Perhaps it was a question of the soil temperature…. Would dead English sovereigns rise if transplanted in Egypt? Or Scottish ones? The Scottish ones seemed more fun.

“Carnahan, stop dreaming and come help,” Ardeth ordered and Jonathan thought of protesting. Harvesting hearts of two-headed magical creatures was gory and smelly. Even if it was to stop a giant wave of drought which would devastate Egypt and probably cause a lot of deaths. But Jonathan had seen enough death during the Great War; deaths he could never forget, no matter what new horrors Evy and her brand new husband Rick, and Ardeth, half friend half pain in the ass in Jonathan’s opinion, discovered every day.

“Life was so much simpler without the supernatural,” Jonathan grumbled, but it was weak and he went to help. The sooner they had the hearts, the quicker they could leave, and supposing Evy and Rick had successfully harvested the brains of their own two-headed monsters, they could stop the drought, leave their third lost temple this year and go back to Jonathan favourite way to pass life: searching for a way to earn money.

Preferably without the dead rising, for once.

They stayed with the Medjai for the night, since it would have been pretty stupid to try returning to the city after dark. The night was beautiful, all stars and an enormous moon and Jonathan was finding himself quite enamoured with life. His sister and her husband disappeared into their tent and he hoped they remembered they were not alone and currently surrounded only by cloth.

The Medjai were extremely pleasant hosts, even Ardeth for all his glaring, and whatever the pastries and strange herbal tea they were distributing were almost making Jonathan not care they didn’t drink alcohol… or that Ardeth took Jonathan’s secret stash at the beginning of their current adventure to prepare a makeshift bomb.

Against a giant Mesopotamian…thing, because evidently the local monsters and undead weren’t enough. Some had apparently been imported too.

Jonathan let himself fall into the nest of covers loaned to him for the night. He was sore, but not too bruised, and the satisfaction of saving people had an edge even a cynic like him couldn’t deny.

“You know, the only thing missing is gallant company. Not that yours isn’t charming, old chap, but nothing beat a scandalously clothed lady. With the bosom, you know,” Jonathan said, gesticulating to illustrate.

Ardeth grunted and didn’t answer.

“But perhaps there is a Mrs. Bey in one of the tents? Or several? Are your people polygamists? Because that’s something I could get behind. Never too much of a good thing, you know, even if I always asked myself how it worked. I mean, some men must go without riches for other to have more? Very capitalistic and –“

“Carnahan, stop babbling. And no, there isn’t a Mrs. Bey, as you say. And if there was, you would be literally the last person in this country I would introduce to her.”

“Rude!”

“Sleep, Jonathan. We leave at dawn and I don’t enjoy having to throw water at you to force you to rise.”

“No need to grumble. Also, you totally enjoy it! And I’m sure you’ll find the perfect Mrs. Bey one day and sweep her off her feet. Very heroically, probably. There will be fireworks, old chap! ”

“Thanks, I suppose. But this isn’t…. My friend, there is-“

A snore interrupted him.

Ardeth turned to the side. Jonathan Carnahan had succumbed to the exhaustion of the day. Ardeth snorted, amused despite himself, and happy his confidences to his grating, but strangely attaching, friend had been stopped just in the nick of time. Some words couldn’t be unsaid. And he liked the Carnahan and O’Connell trio, despite their habit of stumbling exactly where they shouldn’t. He went on his last stroll around the camp, saluting the sentinels, as was his habit before sleep, and didn’t think any more of this conversation. Sadly, the sudden interest of Jonathan about his love life distracted him enough – should he tell him the truth or not, the English could be very strange about that – that he forgot for a moment a bad habit of Jonathan, where he pickpocketed everything shiny like an overgrown Oxford-educated magpie, and didn’t go through his pockets like he ought to after one of their expeditions.

Therefore, Ardeth missed the amulet in Jonathan’s vest, found in the temple of the day. And he missed the crystal, strange, shining, definitely nothing he had seen before, embedded in it.

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

A woman was leaning down over Jonathan. She wore the strangest headdress he had ever seen, with two long tails of bizarre material, blue and white, and it was also crowning her, giving her a royal air, despite the blood running down her face. There was something slightly wrong about her face, like the proportions were slightly different from what they should normally be in a human.

“I’m sorry,” she was saying. “I’m sorry, Master, this is the only way to be sure he doesn’t get you too. Someone will come find you. The Alliance has our coordinates, they will find you.”

An older man stepped up behind her and he was bleeding too, the left part of his face a terrible wound, which had taken one of his eyes. The blood congealed on his beard and he used the wall to stay upright. The still intact eye shined with determination despite the probably terrible pain.

“Ahsoka, there isn’t time left,” he said and something sharp came to mask the despair on the woman’s face.

“I know,” she said. She took something from around her neck and it was the strange crystal in the amulet Jonathan had found. She leaned down and placed it on Jonathan.“Anakin’s crystal,” she said. “May you use it more wisely than him.”

She pushed a metal cover over Jonathan and it seemed so much like the lid of a sarcophagus. Jonathan wanted to yell for help but he was paralyzed. The last thing he saw was the woman turning, two swords of white flame in her hands, then whatever he was lying on went far away. There was an acceleration, like a plane taking off, and Jonathan knew nothing but the cold light of stars.

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

Jonathan woke up shivering, his mouth already open to cry out. Ardeth was on the other side of the campfire, getting it going again for the morning tea.

“First time I've seen you up without help,” Ardeth smiled, but his smile died when he got a better look at the other man’s face.

“Jonathan?”

“Just…just a nightmare.”

Ardeth wisely nodded. Even he, who had been trained all his life to protect humanity from what was laying underneath the sands of Egypt and the neighbouring countries, would sometimes be visited in his dreams by the horrors he was regularly exposed to.

In silence, Ardeth offered his water skin for Jonathan to rinse the bilious taste of nightmares from his mouth.

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

The woman was there again. The one with the strange headdress going down on either side of her head. The headdress was smaller and the tattoos on her face smaller too, like they hadn’t been finished. She was silently watching the cold coffin Jonathan was in, agony on her face.

“Oh Master,” she only said. “If only you were there… Really there. More than ever, I need your help.”

A man entered the room. He had brown skin, brown hair too long for even Cambridge and smart eyes.

“The Ghost is leaving in ten minutes, we can’t afford more.”

“I’m ready, tell Hera I will be on board.” The woman with the headdress said. Jonathan wanted to yell at her to take him with her, that he wanted to help, that it was his responsibility to help, but his mouth was cold and his tongue dead inside it, like a block of ice.

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

 “Don’t you think your brother is…you know?” Rick asked one morning and Evelyn’s eyes left the reproduction of a Nekhen tomb painting she was admiring, realized she was about to put marmalade in her tea, took her glasses off and turned to her husband. Rick hadn’t put his shirt on yet, a fact she deeply appreciated.

“There are many answers to that question and some of them are about secrets I swore to take to my tomb when we were teenagers, so I will need you to elaborate, darling.”

“Don’t you think your brother is strange?”

“Did he try to convince you to invest in a bar in Casablanca again?”

“If I was trying to start a business with him, I would be the strange one. No, I mean, don’t you think he’s stranger than usual?”

As one, they turned to the patio of the decrepit house they were renting in Damietta.

It was eight in the morning and Jonathan was up.

That itself was strange.

Not that Jonathan couldn’t, in crisis time, wake early. But when they were still recuperating from their latest adventure, he liked to only get up at what he called “the crack of dawn,” meaning something like thirteen o'clock.

Eight in the morning, and he was awake, seeping tea slowly, and trying the meditation Ardeth had once tried to teach him, before pronouncing him totally inept. That itself was strange. The tears slowly flowing on his cheeks were making it unreal. 

Jonathan hadn’t shed a tear since coming back from the trenches of the Great War. What he had lived through there had used up all the tears for one life. After, there was only room for laughter,  sometimes slightly hysterical, alcohol, and women of ill repute, with the occasional supernatural menace.

“I think the last mission we accompanied Ardeth on was particularly difficult for him.”

“Nobody died!” Rick protested. “Nobody didn’t even almost died!”

“Dear God, we’re setting the bar quite low those last months….”

Rick turned again to Jonathan. At the beginning of his marriage to Evy, he had seen Jonathan more as an unfortunate consequence of Evelyn, someone to endure, until they had bonded with their experiences from the war. Some things they had shared with each other, they hadn’t even told Evy, the most important person in both their lives.

“I’m taking him for a drink tonight with my old  buddies from the Legion,” Rick decided. “Mano a mano.”

“That really doesn’t mean what you think it means,” Evelyn smiled and Rick couldn’t resist that smile, never had, and he swallowed an impromptu Latin lesson with a tender kiss, which lead to other things, and Evelyn quite late in her morning program for the study of the Nekhen tomb paintings.

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

There was a demon, more frightening than Imhotep himself. It was black, prowling in the shadows around Jonathan. The only thing Jonathan could perceive of it, a noise like lethal gas escaping its canister. The thing, the monster, the nightmare, carried a sword made of blood and at its feet lay the bodies of everyone Jonathan had ever loved.

Lost.

All of them were lost, because Jonathan had not been enough.

The despair should have a taste but Jonathan hadn’t tasted anything in years. There was just the cold, the after taste; spicy, of the last thing he had tasted, long ago, months ago, years ago, centuries ago, before laying down in his tomb, silent, vigilant witness of the end of everything and the rise of darkness.

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

Rick and Evelyn were waiting for him when he got back from his nightly walk. He had exchanged his usual nightly shenanigans in bars for slow walks across the landscape. By day, the sounds of so many people had become a torture and even at night, it was like Jonathan could feel them pressing around him. Only in the empty surroundings of Damietta could he find peace now, following the stars, which always seemed wrong to him, like they were in an incorrect configuration.

“Evy?” Jonathan asked, surprised, because they were always in bed when he came back.

“This is an intervention,” his sister said.

“Oh come on. I swear to you, I haven’t started using again. I know the effect of Forced Marche on me, I wouldn’t…"

“I know, darling,” Evy said with warmth, taking his hand in a gesture of comfort. “I know you wouldn’t do that to me, or to yourself again. But, you have been…you haven’t been yourself, those last weeks. At first, I confess I thought you were, how do I say it-“

“Hitting the bottle pretty hard,” Rick completed with no tact at all.

“But I remembered when you started to change and I called a specialist.”

There was a movement behind Jonathan and he turned and Ardeth was there, his face harder than Jonathan had seen in a long time. And in his hand, cradled like the simple contact was dangerous, was the amulet with the crystal Jonathan had found weeks ago, abandoned on the red sandstone altar in a temple of a forgotten goddess in Latopolis.

“That’s mine,” Jonathan yelled immediately, his hands raising to seize the jewel, but Rick’s arms were around his shoulders, as hard as steel.

“I failed you, my friend,” Ardeth said gravely.

“Ardeth, that’s mine!” Jonathan said again, already suffocating on tears, “That’s the only thing I have left!”

Another Medjai was there, one Jonathan didn’t know, and a foul-smelling cloth was across Jonathan's mouth, and he struggled, but Rick was stronger, and Ardeth was there too, helping Rick contain his thrashing, and the last thing he heard was Evelyn crying.

Beyond his eyelids, for a second, he would have sworn Evelyn’s silhouette was different, her belly round as the sun, and shining too, shining like a newborn star, but it made no sense and he lost himself to the dark of drugged sleep. 

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

The woman was there again. There was a man with her, blond hair, brown skin, a hand on her shoulder, comforting her as she put her two hands on the lid of Jonathan’s sarcophagus. Behind them, there was a man with darker skin and a dash of yellow across his nose and even if Jonathan had never seen him in his life, he wanted to beg him to take care of her, of her and the first man, the blond one, because if Jonathan himself couldn’t, this man with the yellow markings was almost him, brother, support, friend.

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

Jonathan woke up in a tent. Someone had tied his ankles together, not tight enough to stop him from walking, but tight enough to stop him from running. Ardeth was there, offering him a cup of tea, and even if Jonathan wanted to throw it to his face, his throat was parched. He accepted it.

“Was it poisoned?” Jonathan asked, voice hard with anger, once he had drunk everything.

“No, it wasn’t, and this is perhaps a question you should ask before accepting a drink.”

“Well, not like I can stop you, as the last hours demonstrated!”

“I understand you’re angry.”

“Well, you’re so brilliant to decipher emotion, if Medjai doesn’t work, perhaps you could become a disciple of Mister Freud.”

“We’re here to help you.”

“You have a strange way to show it,” Jonathan pointed out.

At that moment, the flap of the tent opened. Jonathan’s heart jumped in his chest. It was Evelyn and Rick and the sense of betrayal went higher. Ardeth was a friend, a good one, yes, but still only a friend. Rick and Evy were family. Family wasn’t supposed to betray each other. 

Ages old grief rose. Older than Jonathan, older than twice cursed Imothep, older than every temple in Egypt, and he choked on the wave of anguish. The infinite sadness was the only thing in his soul and it went higher, plugging his lungs, crushing his heart. On his cheeks tears started to flow again and he would have died of this pain, it was impossible to survive such sorrow.

Hands found his own. Darker hands with tattoos. Ardeth’s hands, scarred and dependable, hands which had saved Jonathan’s life countless times. 

A head was against his. Dark hair, the same as his, and their mother perfume, and the embrace of blood, a link he only had with Evey now, their English family dead and buried, but Evy, Evy was there, his beloved sister, and they had survived so much together, from their parents’ loss to the countless disappointments of life. 

Strong arms around his shoulder, his waist and the scent of that awful cologne. Rick. Rick, who made Evy happy, Rick who had seen the trenches too, Rick, the brother their parents didn’t have the time to give him.

Jonathan crashed into his body and into reality with all the grace of a drunk camel trying to run across a dune.

“What’s wrong with me!” He yelled, quite strongly, into poor Rick’s ears.

There was some fussing, a fortifying potion poured by Rick into Jonathan’s tea, despite Ardeth’s opinion that alcohol really wouldn’t help Jonathan, then they congregated around the fire with stew and explanations. Jonathan was famished. It was like he had survived only on tea and slow walks across the Egyptian landscapes for days.

“It was a very long time ago,” Ardeth explained. “During the Thinite Confederacy, before even the First Dynasty. One day a great fire fell from the sky into the desert. The tribes which formed the Confederacy sent an expedition to follow the trail of the fire and they found a great stone at the centre of a dune entirely crystallized, like an intense fire would have done. They brought back the stone to the city. Little by little, the members of the expedition who found it began to have visions. They could predict other tribes attack, they could sometimes know where a venomous snake was waiting in a bush, they knew where to go for good game in the hunts…”

“Seems like a pretty friendly stone,” Rick commented. “Very useful stuff.”

“But their new talents had a price,” Ardeth continued, like Rick hadn’t interrupted him. “The ones with the most talent, the ones who could sometimes heal wounds or ease a birth for example, were the most touched. They wept during feasts, they yelled into the night, they were taken apart by-“

“Sadness,” Jonathan said. “Infinite sadness.”

Ardeth nodded. Evelyn’s hand found her brother’s own hand and pressed on it.

“Most of them took their own life, at the end. A temple was built, coming from a vision one of the men touched by the stone had and the stone placed in the sanctuary. Once a year, young people were send to it to earn its wisdom.”

“That’s…that’s quite cold,” Evely shivered, “They were sacrificed. Fated to kill themselves or go crazy.”

“Yes, they were. Officially, they were designed by the oracles, but of course, most were chosen as a way for the most powerful to strike down their enemies.”

“Charming.”

“Some of them survived. They endured and went to become great souls, leading their people, or taking the places of advisors of the proto-kings. They said Menes, the founder of the first dynasty was one of them, that used what he learned from the stone to unify Egypt. They also said that the stone stopped talking to him because of the bloodshed, and that is why he was killed by a hippopotamus, because he had gotten too close to the beast, confident in a gift which had been taken back. They also said that Menes was the only one ever succeeding in opening the stone, and that he never said what was inside. Simply brought back that strange crystal in the amulet Jonathan stole.”

“Liberated, thank you very much,” Jonathan interrupted.

“All of this is fascinating,” Evelyn admitted. “But if we need the stone to help Jonathan…” Her brother was quite touched. For Evy, Evy! To interrupt Egyptian story time like that….

Ardeth nodded again.

“Yes, we need the stone and, praise Allah, I know where it is. The temple is in Thinis. Some said the weeping stone contributed to the abandonment of the city for Memphis as a capital.”

“Then we have a problem,” Evelyn realized. “Nobody has ever found Thinis.”

“The English haven’t,” Ardeth said with half a smirk and Evelyn made the same noise Rick made when he found a scorpion in their bathroom.

“We had this conversation before,” Rick immediately intervened, before Evelyn lost herself in an archaeological rant. “Ardeth certainly doesn’t have to tell you everything his people know and keep from the scientists.”

He kissed her pout. Knowledge was Evelyn’s grail and she could become a little insensitive to indigenous peoples' reasons for keeping secrets in her quest., Nobody was perfect, neither she or he or Ardeth, and their friendship could endure some friction.

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

The woman had come back again. On Jonathan's coffin, she placed a strange helmet, white and half burned…

“Cody,” she said, then a long silence and she added: “He was himself at the end. He called for you.” And, in his coffin, Jonathan’s heart wept, like another wound had been added to his burden.

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

Jonathan woke up kneeling, his face close, too close to the dying embers of the campfire. Ardeth hands, steel strong, the only things stopping him from burning himself.

A grief too big to bear pulsed in his heart, something so immense he couldn’t swallow it. He turned to Ardeth and saw in his friend’s eyes compassion and support. He didn’t deserve that man’s friendship. Friends could be taken so quickly, died in a flourish of a blade, Jonathan should….No, no, those thoughts weren’t his. Ardeth was a dear friend, yes, but he was in no danger of any blade.

It was such a freezing thought to realize the inside of his own brain weren’t exactly his own anymore.

“How far away is this city again?” Jonathan asked.

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

Later, when Jonathan, pale and with too deep shadow beneath his eyes, had been put to sleep by a few drops of a potion made by one the Medjai specialist, Ardeth, Rick and Evelyn divided the hours of day and night between the three of them.

Jonathan couldn’t be left alone.

They left the camp at dawn, escorted by ten of Ardeth’s men. Jonathan was trying very hard to put his persona on, like a mask, and Rick was keeping him company at the moment, so Evelyn guided her camel next to Ardeth.

“Are you here to grill me about Thinis' secrets?” Ardeth asked and she made a face.

“I’m sorry,” Evey admitted. “Sometimes I lose myself in my desire for knowledge and I act harshly. I wouldn’t want you to think your friendship is only a means to me.”

“I know the truth of your heart, Evelyn O’Connell,” the Medjai simply said. “You are a good person, if not a very patient one. Which is a surprise for a woman capable of speaking ten dead languages.”

“Only nine,” Evey corrected and everything in her tone confessed she found it a terrible shortfall on her part.

He smiled and didn’t admit to her he spoke more. Instead, he told her old tales of the lost city of Thinis, stories of the beginning of Egypt, when the Medjai were simply one tribe of several, before the rise of the united country, before the Pharaohs. Evelyn listened, eyes shining. In return, she recited the Culhwch and Olwen to him, translating on the fly from middle Welsh to English and Ardeth was in turn fascinated.

“When Jonathan is healed,” Ardeth said, refusing to entertain the idea that his friend could die. “I think I would like to see your country.”

“I would like to be your guide,” Evelyn answered, “and to guide you to its secrets. Even if we are sadly lacking in lost magic cities.”

“Perhaps we will find them together,” Ardeth said. “Perhaps there are Medjai in your country, keeping its secrets, like my brothers and myself are keeping the secrets of Egypt.”

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

There was a child. A small, strange child, with green skin and a bizarre headdress. She was a girl, and young, so young, and Jonathan knew that one day, she would have been his to teach. He had always known and she had too, and sometimes, when he could, he had visited her and the other children, happy to see her grow safe and happy, like every child should.

But a shadow entered the room. A shadow with a cowl obscuring its face, but Jonathan knew. He knew that shadow had been his child too and if his lips were sealed by cold and death, his heart yelled and cried and raged, as the shadow cut in two the one who should have been his sister.

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

Thinis slept under the sand but the Medjai knew a way. They always knew a way, custodians of so many secrets. Ardeth guided their small expedition and they started to dig, taking turns, to excavate the entry to the lost city.

“How long since you last dug it out?” Rick grumbled, as he was on the team excavating the sand. “It seems that door hasn’t seen the light of the sun since it was built, with all this freaking sand on it.”

“We haven’t come back since the sixteenth century,” Ardeth explained. “The amulet was stolen from a group of Medjai at that time, and we tracked the buyer, and tried to save his son who had touched the crystal.”

“And did it work?”

Ardet’s grimace told everything of the answer.

“Perfect, just perfect,” Rick growled and he started to work even harder.

Once the path to the door was cleared out, Ardeth left half his men outside on guard with Evelyn and Rick, and entered the city with Jonathan and the rest of the Medjai. Evelyn had protested, and Rick too, and it was Jonathan’s own voice that finally had convinced them. How could he fight the despair in his soul, if he was afraid for his family?

“You’re going with Ardeth!” Evelyn had protested and the Medjai had been touched by this casual inclusion in their family.

“Sometimes attachment isn’t enough,” Ardeth had told the young woman. “We have been trained since childhood for this. We won’t fail your brother. We won’t fail our friend in his time of need.”

The Medjai had been trained for this. To protect the world from everything that slept under the sand. To stand guard, silent, vigilant, between the people of Egypt and the different horrors the past had left. Ardeth thought about that as they progressed. It was his duty and also his honour, but even he found the slow walk into the city buried under the sand difficult.

Not physically.

Here, there weren't any of the traps or undead abominations which had marked his first adventure with Rick and company, when together they had stopped Imothep.

No, the difficulty was in all their hearts and it didn’t come from their own feelings. It was a song of despair, of infinite sadness, a grief which tore them apart and still asked for more. But where men of the past had succumbed, the Medjai didn’t. Perhaps the only ones who wouldn’t. 

Duty. A life offered to duty. The desire to protect, even the people who didn’t understand them, who would have spit on their way of life. That was the Medjai way. And whatever was waiting for them in the heart of the city understood that, perhaps more than anything else in the world.

Perhaps even more than infinite sadness.

Duty, even in the time of grief.

For this, the warriors and Jonathan arrived alive at the ruined temple. Gritting their teeth against despair, but alive, if slightly dusty. Ardeth left his men there and guided Jonathan further in. The Englishman couldn’t walk anymore, despite courageous effort. Ardeth, a hand around his waist, dragged him into the sanctuary, and almost let go of him the moment they entered. In the light of the torch, the stone glittered in a way no stone should.

Slowly, Ardeth helped Jonathan to the base of the steps. When Jonathan was sitting down, he went closer to examine the stone. It was no stone, something his ancestors hadn’t included in their reports, perhaps for fear to seem insane.

Ardeth touched it.

It was metal, he was certain of it. A metal he couldn’t identify, but a metal. And there, at the base of it there was….

There was something deformed by heat, by time, by the shock of a crash in the desert centuries ago, but that a modern Medjai could identify where pre-pharaonic and fifteen centuries Medjai couldn’t.

Some sort of handle.

Some sort of door handle….

Ardeth, in a moment of dumb courage his Medjai teachers would have walloped his behind for, turned the handle. It was stuck, but with a bit of effort…

A hiss, stale air, and it opened.

On the stone floor, Jonathan had passed out.

Ardeth looked inside the stone which wasn’t a stone.

There was…there was some strange statue. A man. Certainly not Egyptian, but no people he could identify. Simply a man, very realistic, but only three-quarters of him could be seen, the rest lost in the mass of stone, or metal, behind him, like the sculptor had been interrupted. On the side, there was some metal contraption with lights, all red, and blinking like crazy. And one by one, they were going out.

Ardeth had half decided to throw Jonathan across his shoulders and start running, because he didn’t want to be there when the last one went out, when suddenly all of them failed and went dark.

There was a light, a noise, liquid falling on the floor, and a man stepped out of the statue, into Ardeth’s arms.

“Ahsoka,” he said, opening eyes as blue as the sky in the desert, and then he passed out. At the same time, a fog of grey lifted from Ardeth’s heart and he understood that whatever spell had come from the stone, the…thing, it was forever a thing of the past.

To say the Medjai, Rick and Evy were surprised to see half their team coming back with an extra member was an understatement. Their usual was more: 'sudden monster trying to eat their heart and liver,' not: 'mysterious human with red hair stepping out of a statue.' Nevertheless, camp was established, and Jonathan was examined from head to toe, then the man.

“He looks…normal,” was the very helpful diagnostic.

And he did. Only one head, blue eyes, red hair, red beard.

“He would seem more at his place in England, if not for the strange armour,” Evelyn commented, and then forget a little about their guest, because Jonathan had woken up. A little hungover, exhausted, but definitely himself.

And the stranger slept. Days after days. As they stayed in camp the time necessary to let Evelyn visit the ruins, which was both the sweetest gift the Medjai could give her, and the cruellest. The sweetest, because her soul thirsting for knowledge saw and learned things no archaeologist had ever dreamed off. The cruellest, because she could never talk about it, or publish about it, or even use the knowledge gained. Then they hid the entry of the city again and departed.

Every day, the sleeping stranger was tied up to Ardeth on his camel. Every night, they moistened cloths in milk and water, pressing them between his lips to nourish him. Every day, the stranger’s skin lost a little of his pallor as his health seemed to get better.

Jonathan helped the Medjai care for the man with a patience he hadn’t demonstrated in years. He felt a strange kinship with this stranger who had almost caused his death. How could he blame him when he remembered the depth of his sadness? 

Sometimes, late in the night, when the memory of his pain was too much on his heart, he searched for Ardeth. He didn’t remember exactly what had happened in the temple, but he knew the warrior had saved his life and his sanity and he remembered his arms around his shoulders, his silent protection. Late in the nights, they talked. 

They talked about Medjai training and Oxford. They talked about what they had seen of the world. They talked about their family, Ardeth’s grandfather and uncle who had led the Medjai before him and his father whom he hadn’t known, killed in battle before his birth.They talked about Jonathan and Evelyn’s parents and how their English family had never quite accepted this union and the children resulting…

One night, Ardeth even talked about why there never would be a Mrs. Ardeth Bey, something no person outside the Medjai had ever known, and Jonathan had thanked him for his trust and admitted some  youthful indiscretions, in the terms used by his Oxford peers. This night, there was no more talking but every night they sat a little closer and neither the Medjai or the O'Connell interrupted their time together, happy to see the slow progress of their dance, the seed of happiness.

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

Obi-Wan woke up.

It was the strangest thing. It felt alien, unreal. Things were definitely quite jumbled upstairs, his brain as scrambled as if he had spent a weeklong bender with what the clones pretended was alcohol, but he knew it had been longer than that, far too long. He knew he had spent more time in carbonite thant he was supposed to for their infiltration of the Citadel. Images were rushing around in his mind, and pain and anger and grief and Padme yelling and Ahsoka, tall and proud, everything a Jedi should be, and Rex’s blood on the floor and Anakin’s eyes a sickly yellow and nothing, nothing made sense.

Obi-Wan called to the Force and pushed himself into healing with the rest of his strength.

He passed out.

The next time he woke up, he could perceive people around him.

Strangers, not Force sensitive, but…friendly? Or at least, not unfriendly. But his body was still terribly weak and again, Obi-Wan called to the Force.

The third time waking was the good one.

Around him, Obi-Wan knew it was night, all souls at rest save one, at his side, and others further away. Guards, probably.

Carefully, he pushed a little in the Force and perceived no other Force Sensitive around, so he latched onto the closest person and slowly, very slowly, tipped them into sleep.

Only then did Obi-Wan open his eyes.

A stranger, dressed for the desert. Human, or humanoid…no, human.

Obi-Wan carefully stood up. Even with the healing, his steps were hesitant. How long….

He stepped out of the tent, silent as only a Jedi could be. Someone had taken his armour, and changed his clothes. He was dressed in blue like the stranger he had sent to sleep. He needed to find his armour and where he was.

But first, and most importantly, his lightsaber. He concentrated, searched into the Force, encountered a sleeping man next to the embers of a dying fire and stopped.

In the Force, not only could he perceive his own kyber crystal in his lightsaber, in another tent, but also Anakin’s lightsaber. Anakin wasn’t there, of that he was sure, the sun of his power would be impossible to miss.

Obi-Wan found his lightsaber easily and his brother’s kyber, not in Anakin lightsaber but in a strange necklace. With a shrug, he put the necklace around his neck. Evading the place where he could feel the guards, Obi-Wan stepped out of the camp.

He had only trekked two dunes when he felt Ahsoka. Strange, more powerful Ahsoka, but definitely Ahsoka. He had already understood time had passed, so when he broke into a run, he thought he would find his Grand Padawan all grown up, regal and powerful, a Knight of her own. Perhaps already a Master!

When he saw her, it was a shock.

Blue and transparent and shining, waiting for him across the dunes, compassion written on all her being.

Obi-Wan had always known he was fated for infinite sadness and he understood the time he had waited for all his life had come for him.

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

Ardeth was the one who found him.

It had been easy to track his steps across the sand, once he had found his cousin asleep next to the covers of their strange guest, instead of standing guard.

The man was kneeling in the sand and crying. Ardeth, who already had his knife out against what he was sure was a trap, hesitated.

The man looked up and, like in the sanctuary, the Medjai took the blue of his eyes like a shock. He saw the man shoulder his pain and shake himself, with the fortitude of one who had borne too much burden too often. Then the man stood up and touched his chest.

“Obi-Wan,” he said.

“Ardeth,” the Medjai answered and Obi-Wan bowed politely.

Ardeth designated the direction they had come from, like a question, and Obi-Wan obediently started the trip back. Side by side, they walked, Obi-Wan lost in his thought, and the Medjai observing him.

It had been this man’s pain that had resonated from inside the stone.

What sort of grief could be so terrible….One day, perhaps he would know.

For now, tea and food, for the stranger and for their expedition.

They had time.

As they were approaching the first tent, Obi-Wan turned a last time and saw Ahsoka. She bowed and disappeared, probably going back to the Force, or to the New Republic, which Anakin’s children had made happen, and then his grandchildren, great grandchildren, countless generations while Obi-Wan had been prisoner in the carbonite, the module damaged, stopping him from  waking up.

Across the stars, far, far away, there were still Jedi, but what could he do, for people who thought his name was an old legend? People who weren’t even sure Anakin’s Fall and the End of the First Republic hadn’t been a legend for children, with how long ago it was?

Obi-Wan, resolutely, turned to the camp. He knew the world. Whatever the strange planet he had winded up, he was pretty sure there were people to help and things to learn. Starting with their language!

A man whom Obi-Wan had never seen but who was definitely strangely familiar, like Obi-Wan knew the shape of his soul, was running to them and he threw his arms around Ardeth, before babbling something the Jedi couldn’t understand, going beet red. Ardeth answered something, his tone firm, and put an arm around the other man’s waist in return, not letting him turn away. The other man went ever more red. 

Obi-Wan smiled. Yes, people were people, whatever the species or the era. 

The other man turned to Obi-Wan and again the Jedi had this strange impression of a resonance in the Force. The man wasn’t Force Sensitive, of that Obi-Wan was sure, but he almost could have been tipped in this direction, with just a small nudge from fate. What stayed was a strange connection, when their eyes met. 

The man bowed in a fluid movement, ceremonial and old, which was pure Jedi, like he had learned from Obi-Wan himself better than Anakin ever learned it, not interested as he was in protocol, or even in being polite. 

“Jonathan,” he said and Obi-Wan gave a bow in answer and said :

“Obi-Wan,” and the man smiled and said something he didn’t understand but which, Obi-Wan would have bet his lightsaber, meant some variations of ‘I know’.

At the side of the two men, the Jedi entered the camp and stepped into his new life. 

#star war #the mummy returns #ardeth bay #jonathan carnahan #obi wan kenobi #the clone wars #crossover #my fics

[the-curious-butterfly]

Music and Magic

(Since I’m still not sure what exactly passes for good music in the Boiling Isles, yet considering the Grom episode coming up it can end up revealing that it’s not very different from human music, for now and for the sake of this story I want to believe that it’s more old/medieval style with lutes and such. Just so I can make Amity’s introduction to dance/electronic music as cute as possible. This is inspired by naosucheeks art.)

It happened on a day when Luz was waiting for Eda after school. Sure the human witch in training could have just walked home but the two fell into a comfortable routine of Eda taking her to and from school that Luz really liked. And so did Eda though you wouldn’t catch the rebellious witch dead admitting something so...domestic. 

Luz decided she’d wait by sitting on the front steps and carelessly blast music through her ears like human kids at human schools were known to do but not at witch schools for it did earn her a few looks from passing witchlings. That was to be expected though, being the only human to ever attend Hexside they’d probably need time to get use to her antics. What she hadn’t expected, however, was for Hexside’s own top student, Amity Blight, to walk over to her and ask. 

“What is that lovely sound?” 

Or at least that’s what Luz guessed she said, she really couldn’t hear much anything else right now so she gave reading lips a semi not at all decent shot and pulled one of the buds out of her ear. “Hey Amity! What was that you said?” 

“I said what is that awful racket?!” Amity puffed as she held a hand up to the side of her head to emphasize how annoying she thought it was. Which would be the only reason she’d come over here, not because she was truly curious or anything. 

“Oh you know just, human music.” Luz laughed nervously, unsure how to explain that what she was listening to now was in fact anime geek music. Currently her phone was playing an English dub cover version of Love Trial. 

Amity’s response was to sit down right next to her, all elegant and proper of course, and gesture towards Luz. “Alright, let’s hear what passes for music in the human realm.” 

With a nervous but excited smile, Luz offered Amity the bud she currently held in her hand for it was the one closest to her. “Great! Just put this in your ear.” 

The witchling took it but stared at it questioningly, unsure if she actually wanted to put some unknown object in an important part of her body. But she made it this far, wouldn’t look good to back out now so here goes nothing. 

At the same time Luz pushed the button to play the song over from the beginning, making sure to turn the volume down for she wasn’t sure exactly how sensitive witch ears could be. She had just became friends with Amity so she’d rather not risk damaging her eardrums by accident. 

Amity’s eyes went side as soon as the song started. It had an upbeat yet soft tempo composed of a combination of sounds Amity has never heard before. Except maybe a piano, or at least what sounded like one. She was so focused on the melody that she was surprised when someone started signing. Apparently it was noticeable since Luz started looking at her with this concerned expression. 

“Is it okay?” Luz asked, for some reason she really wanted Amity to like her music. 

“It’s fine, for now. What is this song called?” 

Luz smiled wide at the implication that Amity was at least interested enough to ask. “Love Trial.” 

“Well, whoever this is sounds desperate and pathetic.” 

“You think so?” another nervous laugh as Luz scratches the side of her face. 

“He’s saying all this even though she doesn’t seem interested in him. He should just move on instead of making himself look like an obsessive jerk.” 

Luz thought about what she was saying for a minute before responding. “Actually, the way I hear it, seems she likes him just as much just she’s afraid to show it.” She looked away from Amity and played with her hands a bit. She was just talking about song lyrics why was she feeling all shy all of a sudden. 

If Amity heard her she didn’t show it, choosing to really listen to what was being said in the song. When it was over Amity asked, in that rather frank tone of hers, for her to play it again and Luz’s smile returned for she figured that was Amity’s way of saying she liked it so she did what was ask. 

Her expression remained rather unchanging but after hearing it through the second time she nodded. “I can hear it now. You might not be totally wrong.” Luz laughed gently at the way she said that. “What’s next?” Amity asked, another song starting up at the same moment. This one also upbeat but more... staticky? 

“Oh, this ones Cobalt Memories.” The two sat in silence for a moment. 

“The melody sounds happy but the words sound sad.” 

“It...It’s about these two girls being in love in a world that’s ending. Knowing they’ll have to say goodbye sooner then they hoped.” Strange, why did she feel so sad all of a sudden. True it’s a sad song but it’s never made her feel like this. Amity’s gaze softened just a bit too as she listened intently, smiling sadly when it ended. 

The next song to come on started out as a pop right off the bat and unlike the other two it was quite popular with the “normal” crowd. Luz had to keep herself from dancing on the spot which was made easier by Amity’s wide eyed shocked expression that she couldn’t help but giggle at. 

“Yeah, I really like this song too, it’s called ‘Here With Me.”

“This is...really good actually.” 

“Isn’t it?” Luz couldn’t help herself as she got up from the steps and pulled a surprise Amity up with her. Being careful not to knock the earbuds out of their ears as she held both her hands and started spinning the two of them around in a really silly dance. And despite how silly they no doubt looked, Amity couldn’t help but laugh. 

The moment was short lived, however, when Eda showed up on the back of Owlbert. “If I knew you were having this much fun I would have taken a longer nap.” The tease brought them out of their daze and reluctantly they let go, but while Amity hid her reluctance way better than Luz, the human still managed to catch her disappointed expression. 

“Everything okay?” She asked as she took the earbuds off of them and began to put them away. 

Amity decided to say the first thing that came to mind that wasn’t admitting she liked spending time with Luz. “I just...really liked the music.” 

This had Luz smiling like an idiot as she practically shoved her phone into Amity’s hands. “Here, you can borrow this to listen to them then! Don’t worry the password is super easy it’s just Azura but with numbers.” 

“Uhh, password?” The green haired witch mumbled out but the human had already stumbled away. 

“I’ll love to hear your opinion of the rest of the songs I have on there. See you tomorrow!” Luz waved as her mentor got Owlbert to take off, and continued to do so even as they faded out of view. 

Amity couldn’t help waving back as they disappeared before looking down at the “phone” in her hands... Wait, Luz never showed her how to work this thing. Dammit Luz! 

She sighed in good humor cause no way could a top student like her not eventually figure it out for herself but it still would have been helpful. 

Plus she found herself excited at the thought of getting to listen to the kind of music Luz liked listening to later tonight. So far the human’s music was not that bad. 

~~~~~

I really hope @naosucheeks likes it, their art is really good! And a thanks to my good friend @pyronesianwizard for helping me with finding some good Lumity feeling songs! Though of course everyone knows where I got the last one from. ^^

#the owl house #lumity #amity blight #luz noceda #written by The Curious Butterfly

[out-of-jams]

Airplane Mode | Track 06: Base Line | jhs

Summary: Inspired by Love at First Touch by bagelswrites

In a world where a bruise marks the first touch of your soulmate, time is the only thing that matters. The marks take hours to appear, sometimes even days if you're really unlucky. Once First Touch is initiated, both parties only have a few weeks to find the other. From then on, the body begins to reject any form of sustenance other than the touch of the other. If one fails to find their soulmate in time, they starve to death.

So what happens when your soulmate is a world famous idol?

And you're just one fan in a sea of many who can't even speak the same language?

Pairing: Hoseok/ FemOC

Word Count: 5.1k

Genre: Fluff. Angst. Idol!au. Smut. Soulmate!au. Explicit language.

Warnings: Explicit language.

Words written in bold are spoken in Korean.

              Previous| Next | Track List | Masterlist |

Eunjae woke up very confused.

To the sound of loud, constant ringing.

It startled her sleeping body so much that it yanked her out of the land of dreams and back to reality. Slowly peeling her heavy eyes open, Eunjae stared blankly at the unfamiliar white wall across from her. Her brain was not yet awake and was could barely process where she was and how she got there. So it took her a moment to realize that the obnoxious sound echoing through her ears was a doorbell.

“Miles, I swear to God.” Eunjae mumbled incoherently. Reaching up to rub the sleep from her eyes, she sat up in bed, causing the thick comforter to pool around her waist. She was still dressed in the same outfit from last night since she had nothing else to change into. Though she’d shed her bra and joggers right before collapsing into bed.

A sigh left her lips as another round of doorbell ringing started up and she tore her eyes back open in irritation. It wasn’t until her vision landed on the brown wood of the long dresser across from her bed that the memories came rushing back to her. She most definitely was not in New York.

“So then who—” Eunjae’s eyes widened as the sound of light knocking accompanied the ringing of the doorbell. Whoever was on the other side had given up on just ringing, and started to match the tempo of both sounds to tap out some kind of nonsensical song. Blinking in the dim light shining through the black curtained window, her mouth parted in realization. “Oh, shit.”

Eunjae sprang out of bed and almost face planted into the rug underneath when her foot got caught in the comforter. Curses flying from her mouth, she stumbled across the room, ripping her joggers and bra from where they’d landed on the vanity mirror after she blindly threw them. Eunjae scrambled into her clothes and swung the door to her room open so fast that she almost smacked herself in the face.

No one ever said she was the most graceful person first thing in the morning.

“I’m coming!” Whoever was on the other side of the door was either deaf or too caught up in the track they were remixing on her door to hear her.

Eunjae’s bare feet padded down the short narrow hallway outside her room. She’d been so tired last night that she’d barely even given her new living space a quick, cursory glance before crawling into bed. So now as she grandma-shuffled towards the door like some half-assed zombie, she let her eyes wander.

To the right side of the hallway was a door that led to a bathroom that she was sure she would explore later to shower. As she emerged from the passageway, it opened out into a kitchen/living room. To the left was a small, but nice kitchen. And instead of a table, there was a long bar/island with stools pushed underneath. All of the equipment looked brand new and it was too bad that she wouldn't have a need for it.

The living room was straight ahead. A leather couch took up one whole wall and the cream colored shag rug underneath looked soft enough to sleep on. Separating the couch from a dark wood tv stand was a rounded glass coffee table. The walls throughout the whole apartment were painted a boring eggshell white that was almost blinding in the sun.

“I’ll have to fix that.” Eunjae muttered to herself. The place wasn’t huge, but she didn’t want it to be. She didn’t want to be put up in some lavish penthouse like some weird, trophy soulmate. Eunjae already felt awkward enough for how much Big Hit was already doing for her; best not to add more to the list.

As Eunjae reached the door, she stopped from grabbing the doorknob when she caught her reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. With a grimace, she quickly ran her fingers through her wild bedhead in an attempt to tame it. Seemingly satisfied, Eunjae quickly yanked open the door before the neighbors decided to file a noise complaint.

Jung Hoseok stood on the other side of the door, one finger hovering over the doorbell as if he were about to ring it again. His expression converted from amused to surprised, and then back to amused, before finally settling on friendly. Eunjae decided right then and there that he was way too awake, way too early in the morning. Hoseok’s dimples came out to play as he flashed her a grin and an energetic wave.

Not only was he completely awake, but he was fully dressed for the day too. With his white and red long-sleeve pullover, french tucked into a pair of jeans, he looked very casual. He’d parted his dark hair in the middle so that it exposed the lightly tanned skin of his forehead. And a black belt was threaded through the hoops of his jeans to keep them from falling down his slim waist.

All-in-all, his very put together appearance made Eunjae look like some half-dead monster that just crawled out of the sewer.

Just call me Master Splinter . She thought, staring up at him with tired eyes and messy hair.

Hoseok dropped his hand and leaned casually against the doorway. His fresh scent filled Eunjae’s nose and she vaguely wondered if all of the members smelled that good, or if it was just a Hoseok thing. Tucking a hand into the pocket of his jacket, He gave her a greeting that was way too cheerful for her exhausted brain to mimic.

“Good morning!”

Eunjae hummed in acknowledgment and reached up to rub at her cheeks. “Morning, Hobi.”

He seemed completely unoffended by her lack of enthusiasm which she was grateful for. “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah. You?” Blinking up at him through dead eyes, Eunjae tried her hardest to match his energy. It was infectious; beginning to filter through her haze filled mind like a stream of fresh water.

“Yes. Good!”

“That’s good.” Eunjae mumbled around a yawn, “‘hat time is it?”

Hoseok tilted his head to the side cutely in confusion. When he hesitated in replying, Eunjae sent him a sleepy smile and lightly tapped on her wrist; the universal gesture to ask for the time. Hoseok made a noise of understanding in the back of his throat and fished around in the pocket of his jeans to pull out his phone. As he flashed the screen her way, Eunjae gave a slow blink at how early it was.

The both of them had gotten back from the airport a little after four am, and the numbers flashing across Hoseok’s phone read that it was now ten am. If Eunjae was doing the math right (which she probably wasn’t), that only equated to around less than six hours of sleep total. Which was definitely pointing to the danger side of her sleep-o-meter.

“Oh.” Was the only sound that could leave her mouth and a pout formed unconsciously on her lips as she squinted up at Hoseok.

How was he already awake and ready to begin his day now ? She really envied his ability to pull energy out of thin air. Though she couldn’t help but wonder why he was there. Eunjae thought someone from the company was supposed to pick her up and take her shopping for the early half of the day. Surely Bit Hit wouldn’t send her out with Hoseok. Because that would undoubtedly cause a huge scandal if they were caught. Not that she would have minded spending time with him, but she wasn’t quite prepared to be bashed into the next century in the next issue of Dispatch.

Eunjae shifted a little closer to the door and tried to peer around Hoseok’s tall frame to see if any of the other members were in the hallway. Or anyone at all. When she found no one, she turned her attention back to the man in front of her, who was slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“Where, um,” Eunjae paused, brows knitting as she tried to search for the words in Korean. At coming up blank, her nose scrunched. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Everyone?” Hoseok parroted back with a blink. Shrugging, he offered her a smile. “Only me.”

“Only you?” Her lips twitched up in response at their weird back-and-forth game of repeating words. As if saying them out loud would help them to translate somehow.

Pulling a hand from the pocket of his fuzzy pullover, he gestured back down the hall to where he’d informed her last night was where Bangtan resided. Their apartment was all the way on the opposite end of the corridor, and Eunjae could just barely make out the outline of the door.

“Left.” A string of non-english words then left Hoseok’s mouth and all Eunjae could do was stare up at him blankly. At noticing her confusion, his mouth pursed and he tilted his head, leaning further against the doorframe. If he felt at all frustrated by their lack of ability to communicate, he didn’t show it. “Earlier. But not me.”

“Oh. Why?”

Hoseok clasped his hands together and held them up to his cheek dramatically, swishing from side to side with his eyes closed. “Tired.”

“So you slept in, then.”

Eunjae said it out loud mostly to herself, but he answered her with a cute, “ding, ding, ding! ”

Which made her wonder how much English he could or could not understand. But that was a question to answer at some other point in time, when she wasn’t falling asleep standing up. Running her hands down her face to try and wake herself up, Eunjae’s tongue flickered across her dry lips.

“Are you here to take me with you to the company, then?” She couldn’t help but continuously feel guilty over the fact that she couldn’t communicate very well in his language. Him being the one to be forced to speak in hers didn’t sit well with her.

Eunjae could definitely tell when Hoseok was confused. In the few short hours that she’d known him in person, she received that look from him a lot. He’d tilt his head to the side and furrow his brow a bit. Then his eyelashes would flutter faster than normal as if the answer to his confusion was right in front of him, but he just couldn’t see it. And his pale pink lips would part just enough to stop from looking like a full on pout. Not only that, but a small little hum would resonate in the back of his throat, sounding more like a sigh than not.

And Eunjae was on the receiving end of a very confused Hoseok.

Pursing her lips, she tried to think of a way to communicate what she was trying to say. Her mind went blank and she cringed internally at the now awkward air encasing them like a bubble. Eunjae wasn’t really sure if a game of charades full of wild gestures and confused faces would somehow disperse the cringeworthy tension.

Too caught up in trying to find a way to bridge the invisible, gaping chasm between them, Eunjae failed to see the imaginary light bulb go off above Hoseok’s head. His sudden movement, however, caught her attention as he fished back into his pocket and whipped out his phone. He quickly held up a finger telling her to wait as his other hand swiped across the screen. Eunjae couldn’t see exactly what he was doing due to the fact that he had what looked like a privacy screen attached to the glass.

Hoseok whipped his phone around to show her and Eunjae almost smacked her forehead at her stupidity. On display was a translator app and as he passed her the phone, she couldn’t believe that she hadn’t thought of the idea. It was so obvious.

“Talk for English to Korean.” He waved a hand at the phone, but before she could speak, the app picked up his voice and a translated version of what he’d just said came out of the speakers in a robotic voice.

Snorting in amusement, Eunjae repeated what she’d said previous and Hoseok let out a tiny hum and gestured for his phone back. The words that left his mouth went in one ear and out the other, and Eunjae shifted on her feet as she waited for the app to translate. Hopefully she’d be able to get a burner phone sometime during the day so that she could download the app for herself. Getting lost in a foreign country with no means of communication was something that was not on her bucket list. After mentally calculating the funds in her bank account, she was sure she could swing it.

“Sejin texted that someone would be here to pick you up at eleven.” The female monotonous, robotic tone snapped Eunjae out of her thoughts and she eyed the phone Hoseok held out between them. “But you have no clothes, right?”

It took Eunjae a second too long to figure out how he knew that bit of information. The night before (or that morning) had been kind of a blur to her. The memories came back to her slowly: him questioning her about her missing luggage, and the add on the fact that she was still in the same outfit.

Hopefully I don’t smell bad . She unconsciously wrinkled her nose at the thought.

“Right.”

Instead of answering her, Hoseok pushed off the doorframe and gifted Eunjae with one of his eye smiles. He gestured for her to follow him and her face contorted in confusion, but she slipped on her shoes still by the door and stepped out into the hall anyway. As the door closed behind her, Eunjae couldn’t help but ask, “where are we going?”

She asked more out of curiosity than anything else. Miles would always berate her about the fact that she was too spontaneous, too willing to bounce from one plan to the next. Eunjae was the type of person to just go along with whatever was thrown her way. And she liked to live life that way; there was something freeing about not holding yourself to a plan sometimes. Most of her more cherished memories were created by taking a leap of faith.

“Clothes!” Hoseok threw over his shoulder, waving his hand in the air to usher her along. Eunjae’s short legs had a hard time keeping up with his long ones and she internally cursed her genetics. At least being a 5’1” woman in South Korea was kind of average. Well, that’s what Eunjae liked to tell herself anyway.

The hallway they were walking down was empty and she took a moment to wonder if any of the other apartments in the building housed celebrities. Surely they had to, what with how expensive they were and the amount of security to even get into the building. Hopefully that meant that there would be little risk of someone exposing the nature of her and Hoseok’s soulbond.

That was just a hassle she didn’t want to deal with.

Eunjae almost ran into the back of the rapper, shoes scruffing against the carpet as she slid to an abrupt stop. Hoseok didn’t seem to notice, instead quickly keying in the code to the apartment and swinging it open. He turned to the side, back pressed against the door to hold it open, and motioned for her to enter first.

The situation was slowly starting to dawn on her. As an ARMY for a little over a year, the prospect of being granted access to Bangtan’s apartment threatened to bring out the fangirl in her. The shock of Hoseok being her soulmate had still not settled in, but as Eunjae was brought more and more into his world, the reality she once knew began to shatter. For now, the walls were merely cracked, but she didn’t doubt that once she met the rest of the members, it would implode into tiny pieces.

After taking a moment to compose herself and not let her inner ARMY show, Eunjae crossed over the threshold. As she passed through the doorway, her shoulder brushed against Hoseok and the electric heat that jolted under her skin almost made her trip over her feet. That feeling was something that Eunjae doubted she would ever get used to. The sound of the door closing drew her attention away from the wide hallway of the entryway and back to Hoseok.

“Need to hurry.” He waved her to follow him as he walked quickly through the wide hallway of the entryway.

Eunjae nodded in response, despite the fact that he couldn’t see it from where he walked in front of her. Hoseok turned left at the end of the short hallway wand the apartment opened up into the big living room. The far wall was made up of all windows, though the blinds were drawn halfway down so she could barely see the view of the city.

The building was located in Hanam Hill, which housed some of the most expensive apartments in Seoul. It was just far enough out of the heart of the city to provide privacy, but not so far that the boys had to travel a long distance to the company. Eunjae had yet to get the chance to see the view from her own apartment since she’d gotten in so late.

The boy’s living room was nice and spacious, but it wasn’t at all flashy. The two of them passed by a large cream colored L-shaped couch and with a wide screen tv mounted to the wall. It was decorated with various knick-knacks that must have been collected from various members.

The marble floor reflected the lights overhead and Eunjae had to stop her jaw from dropping at the sight of the luxury kitchen. It was big, way bigger than hers, and all of the equipment looked state of the art. Which made her wonder if the boys had some kind of personal chef, or if they all just ordered in whenever Seokjin didn’t want to cook.

Hoseok must have caught her rapidly wandering eyes because he threw a grin over his shoulder and offhandedly waved around the space. “See later.”

“You have to go?” Eunjae assumed that’s why he was speed walking through the apartment like a bat out of hell. She had to speed up to a trot in order to keep up as they passed various closed doors down the hallway next to the kitchen.

“Yeah.” Hoseok finally stopped at a door on the left that was already cracked open. He pushed it the rest way and spun around to usher her in. “Practice.”

Hoseok’s room wasn’t super huge, and Eunjae already knew through Miles that he shared it with Jimin. There were two beds against the far wall, separated by a bedside table. There were a few shelves hanging on the walls with various trinkets that Eunjae couldn’t tell who they belonged to. Hoseok crossed the carpet and stopped at a closet door. There was another one a little to the left, which must have been Jimin’s.

Without pause, the door swung open to reveal a smaller version of a walk-in closet. It was big enough to fit both of them if they squeezed, but not so large that she could fully stretch out if she laid down. There were clothes hung up in a random order that Eunjae couldn’t discern, bright colors popping out in between darker ones. Lines of drawers covered the bottom half of the opposite wall, but all of them were closed.

Back pressed up against the door frame, Hoseok gently laid a hand on her shoulder to guide her closer to the closet. “Pick any.”

“For me?” Eunjae pointed a finger at herself. She felt a little slow on the uptake.

Sure, he’d said that he was taking her to get clothes, but she didn’t imagine that he’d give her some of his. Her inner fangirl was starting to crawl its way out and Eunjae had to bite down to keep it from escaping. Was he really about to give her full access to his closet? Not only was her inner ARMY screaming, but the wannabe fashion designer inside of her couldn’t wait to pick through his designer clothes.

Her excitement at the situation must have been showing because Hoseok’s contagious giggle left his throat. He moved away from the door to stand behind her, both of his hands on her shoulders as he ushered her closer. “For you!”

As he let his hands drop, Eunjae turned to shoot him a beaming, grateful smile. The one that made her nose crinkle. “Thanks, Hobi.”

Hoseok grinned and mumbled something in Korean too fast for her to catch. Before she could ask what he’d said, the phone in his pocket dinged . He slipped it out and glanced at the screen before giving her an apologetic smile. “Got to go.”

“Go!” Eunjae waved him off with both hands, not wanting to be the reason he got in trouble. “Don’t be late.”

Hobi hummed and put his phone and opened his arms wide to gesture at his closet. “Stay. Pick any. I will see you...soon!”

For whatever reason, he’d decided not to use the translator on his phone. Either he forgot about it in his haste or he wanted to go without, Eunjae wasn’t sure. But she appreciated the gesture either way. If anything, him trying his best to speak English gave her more incentive to learn more Korean for him.

Eunjae was a little shocked that he trusted her, a near stranger, enough to leave her alone in Bangtan’s apartment. Sure, they were soulmates, but she could have been some kind of crazy sasaeng. So him gifting her that trust was something that she didn’t want to betray.

“See you soon.”

Hoseok gave her a cute little wave before disappearing out the room. As she turned back to the numerous amount of clothes hanging in the closet she could hear the front door open and close. With hands on her hips, Eunjae spun in a small circle, analyzing the different choices. She already knew that she didn’t have a chance in hell of fitting into any of the taller man’s pants. At least not if she wanted to be able to walk without tripping over herself every five seconds. Her fingertips brushed through the fabric with pursed lips.

She was going to have to get creative.

As he walked down the hall, Hoseok could hear the boisterous sounds of the rest of his members spilling out of the practice room. Jimin’s laugh greeted his ears as Hoseok pushed open the door and slipped inside the room. All six of the boys were sitting in a messy circle in the center of the room and the smell of fried chicken and sweat invaded his nostrils.

Jungkook turned at the sound of the door closing with half a piece of chicken sticking out of his mouth. A mumbled, “hey, hyung,” sent bits of chewed up food spraying from his mouth and onto the floor.

“Kook-ah!” Jimin scrunched his nose down at the mess next to his leg. “That’s disgusting.”

Jungkook just shrugged and shoved the rest of the chicken into his mouth. His greeting brought everyone else’s attention to Hoseok as he crossed the room to squeeze in between Yoongi and Taehyung. Neither of them moved to make room, so Hoseok just stretched his legs out between them, half leaning on Yoongi as he did so.

“‘Bout time you got here.” Yoongi raised a brow at the other rapper as he brought his chopsticks to his mouth.

Namjoon, who sat on the opposite side of the circle, quickly swallowed the food in his mouth before addressing Hoseok. “So, how is she adjusting?”

Leaning back on his hands, Hoseok gave a small half-shrug. All eyes were back on him again as they waited for his answer. The members had been just about as excited for his soulmate to arrive as he’d been. Though the language barrier was definitely a large obstacle, Hoseok still had faith that they could figure out an effective way to communicate.

Prior to his soulmate’s arrival, he’d been following Namjoon around in his free time to bug him for English lessons. Hoseok may have known enough English to somewhat follow along during American interviews, but he wasn’t knowledgeable enough to have full blown conversations. That was where the regret had settled in. He definitely should have been more adamant in the past about learning it, but there was nothing he could do about that now.

Hoseok had gone out on a limb when he first met Eunjae by giving her his contact information. Sure, she was his soulmate, but he wasn’t reckless enough not to take the fact that she was a fan into consideration.

The rest of his members had been a little worried and somewhat skeptical, but at the end of the day, they trusted Hoseok’s judgement. They knew that he wouldn’t do anything to put them in harm’s way. He’d had faith that the universe wouldn’t pair him with someone who wasn’t a good person, so he’d taken the risk. And it had paid off.

Though he didn’t really know that much about her and they hadn’t been able to communicate a whole lot with his intense schedule. But Hoseok held out hope that they could form a strong bond. He’d been taken by surprise by just how strong the magnetizing pull between them was. Even after all of the research that he did as he laid in bed late at night hours after practice and interviews and studio sessions.

Jung Hoseok would be the first to admit that he didn’t know a whole lot about soulmates. He’d never paid much attention to it during primary school. The only time it even crossed his mind was whenever a news article would come out, but even then he’d forget about it soon after. Which was yet another thing he regretted.

Maybe if he’d paid more attention, he would have been prepared for how addicting the touch of a soulmate was. It was like a drug that he couldn’t help but want to get his hands on all the time. Not that he would, since he barely knew her and didn’t want to scare her off somehow.

Hell, he was barely even conscious of his body’s own movements before he touched her. Hoseok wasn’t even big on copious amounts of skinship with the exception of the other members. Even then, he wasn’t as touchy as Jimin or Taehyung. So wanting to constantly initiate skinship with a near stranger was overwhelming.

“Earth to Hobi-ya!”

A kick to the bottom of Hoseok’s show brought him out of his thoughts. Seokjin raised an eyebrow from across the circle, waving his chopsticks like he could magically pull the thoughts from his head.

Hoseok shot him an innocent look. “Did you say something, hyung?”

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, Jin gave another kick to his shoe. “What’s got you all spaced out? Namjoonie asked how your soulmate is adjusting.”

“Ah.” The rapper gave Namjoon a sheepish smile, who just waved him off in response. “I’m not sure. It hasn’t even been a day.”

“But we’re gonna meet her today, right?” Taehyung turned to him with hopeful brown eyes.

He’d been one of the most excited ones to meet her beside Jimin. And Hoseok couldn’t help the grateful blanket that settled in his chest. The fact that his members were so accepting of the situation was something that he was thankful for. If they wound up not getting along with his soulmate, Hoseok wasn’t sure what he’d do. So he didn’t think about it.

Hoseok patted Tae’s shoulder with a smile. “Yup! She should be here some time later. Try not to embarrass me.”

He’d said the last part playfully, but a small part of him meant it.

“You said to make sure that we embarrass you, hyung?” Jungkook’s doe eyes peered over another piece of chicken that he was about to shove into his mouth. Though his overly innocent expression gave away his mischief.

“That’s what I heard.” Yoongi’s monotone voice did well to hide his playful sarcasm. He ignored the deadpan look from Hoseok and busied himself with downing the rest of his coffee.

“Let’s at least try not to scare her.” Namjoon, ever the responsible leader piped up with a shrug and a snort of amusement. “At least let her settle in first.”

“So don’t let her meet anyone then. Got it.”

The kick to the bottom of Hoseok’s shoe came from Jimin this time and he ignored it in favor of pushing Taehyung’s chopsticks away from his face. The smell of chicken must have broken through whatever tied over exhaustion gracing Hoseok’s system, because his stomach growled loudly enough for the whole room to hear.

Seokjin eyed him from across the circle, eyes narrowed and pouty lips pursed. His expressions morphed into one of concern as he nodded his head towards the food containers in the center of the circle of boys. “You should eat something.”

Hoseok’s nose wrinkled at the thought of putting any type of food in his mouth. The last time he’d eaten something, the taste of garbage had coated his tongue for the rest of the day. It wasn’t something that he really desired to repeat, so he wanted to forgo that option for as long as he could. “I’m okay.”

“Jin-hyung’s right.” Taehyung pushed the piece of chicken dangling from his chopsticks against Hoseok’s lips. “You should eat.”

With a grimace, Hoseok opened his mouth to reiterate that he wasn’t in the mood to scrape the taste of decay from his taste buds. But before he could, Taehyung shoved the food into his open mouth. Cringing in absolute disgust, Jin sent him a glare before he could spit it out.

“Chew and swallow.”

Not wanting to be on the other side of Seokjin’s wrath, Hoseok did his best to chew without letting the food touch his tongue. After he swallowed, Taehyung ducked his head to hide his smile of victory.

“See, that wasn’t so bad.”

Hoseok would have answered Jin if it wasn’t for the fact that his stomach twisted in sudden nausea. The small bit of food that he’d just eaten was about to make a reappearance. Ignoring the looks of concern from the other boys, Hoseok shot off the floor and stumbled his way to the door. He’d almost made it too, but his system was fast working and he hadn’t been quick enough.

His fear of throwing up came to fruition--all over the floor of the practice room.

“Fuck.”

#bts fic #bts #hoseok fic #hoseok fanfic #hoseok #bts fic rec #won't let me link my Masterlist for some reason