#*if* she could take off her mask she'd look pretty ragged

[arieacrowflondon]

there's no such thing as a too extra parabola reflection is there?

[sleekervae]

The Bride [0.6]

Masterlist

Pairing: billy the kid x fem!reader

Summary: Eleanor gets a visit from the notary

Warnings: attempted assault, mentions of familial death

Word Count: 3,763

Tag List: @poppyflower-22 @ponyslayer

Eleanor stopped counting after two weeks. The days dragged, the heat growing to be unbearable, and despite the money Jesse was making from his jobs, the gang was constantly on the move. Some days they'd find empty houses to inhabit, other days they were camping out under the stars, restless until they could make it to the next town. And every day that went by, Eleanor couldn't stop thinking, couldn't stop worrying about Billy.

She was thinking about him while she was washing clothes in the riverbank. Camping was nothing new to Eleanor, and while the gang weren't too far off from the river, there was always trouble lurking around the corner.

The icy water numbed her fingers as she scrubbed a shirt against the washboard. The cold air seeped through her clothes, making her shiver. She preferred the solitude, the rhythmic task giving her a rare moment of peace.

The crunch of boots on rocks pulled her from her thoughts. She turned to see a cowboy approaching, his hat shadowing his eyes. He was tall, lanky, she'd put him around Jesse's age with a weary, weathered approach. An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach.

"Hi there," he greeted her. Eleanor didn't respond, she just kept cleaning, "What's a pretty thing like you doing all the way out here?"

"Working," Eleanor replied simply, not bothering to look his way.

“You need a hand?” he asked, his lips curling into a smirk, "I'm an avid worker myself,"

Eleanor straightened, clutching the wet fabric tighter, “I don't need your help. Leave me alone,” she said, her voice clipped.

He didn’t leave. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence invasive, "What's your name?"

She scoffed back, "Eat dirt,"

“Aw, come on now. Don’t be like that,” he said, reaching out to grab her arm.

"Hey!" she jerked away, her pulse quickening, “I said, leave me alone!” she repeated, grabbing her stuff to take off. She hoped he'd take the hint to get lost.

But of course, he didn’t. In an instant, he grabbed her, wrestling her to the ground. Eleanor’s world narrowed to the feel of his weight crushing her, the scent of his sweat and tobacco filling her nose. She kicked and clawed at any part of him she could, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, but he was too strong for her.

A shout pierced the air. The cowboy was ripped off her, and Eleanor scrambled to her feet, chest heaving. She looked up to see Jesse and his crew descending on the man. Fists flew, the dull thud of punches and the cowboy’s grunts mixing with the rush of the river.

Eleanor backed away, her legs trembling. Jesse’s face was a mask of fury as he struck the cowboy, each punch a release of pent-up rage. His men joined in, their combined force overwhelming the attacker.

She wrapped her arms around herself, watching the brutal scene with wide eyes. The cowboy lay on the ground, a bloody mess, groaning in pain. Jesse finally stepped back, his chest heaving, and turned to her, concern replacing the anger in his eyes.

“You okay, Eleanor?” he asked, his voice softer now.

She nodded, though her body still trembled while her shirt and pants were stained with mud, “I’m fine,” she said, the words barely audible over the pounding of her heart. Her mind raced, processing the violence, the fear, the relief.

Despite his moment of calm, Jesse turned and grabbed the cowboy by the scruff of his neck. He gurgled and choked as Jesse dragged him over, propping him up on his knees before the frightened girl as he roared, "Apologize to her!"

The smug and snarky cowboy was now a bloody mess, crimson drool running down his chin and mud and cuts covered his face and arms. He looked so pathetic now, so weak and impudent as he coughed out a raspy "I'm sorry,"

Eleanor didn't respond, couldn't find the words to speak before Jesse took her under his arm, murmuring reassurances while he told the boys to 'finish up'. Eleanor stayed looking straight ahead, even when she heard more scuffling behind her, even when she heard a gunshot go off, she stayed looking straight. Her thoughts brought her somewhere else, somewhere a little bit more comfortable. Despite Jesse’s timely intervention, she found herself wishing for Billy. She longed for his steady presence, his comforting arms around her.

They afforded Eleanor all but half a day of rest before the demands of cooking, caring for the horses, and tending to other chores resumed. The weather was shifting as late summer approached, the heat becoming only slightly more bearable. Each day seemed to drag on endlessly, and without a job to report to, her situation felt increasingly hopeless. Soon enough, their camping endeavors came to an end when they stumbled upon an old ranch house. It was unoccupied, the perfect new hideout.

Early afternoon offered little to admire. Eleanor sat inside while the gang discussed their next job. Jesse had suddenly exempted her from attending the meetings. Though she didn’t think lightly of it, she was at least grateful he seemed to be giving her some space.

She spent her afternoon mending John's coat, a futile task given the garment's age and wear. She was surprised it hadn’t fallen to scraps already. Her attention was piqued when she heard a rise in the chatter outside, followed by the boys rummaging through the camp, calling for weapons.

Eleanor dropped her sewing and moved to the window, her heart racing. A man on horseback was approaching quickly. She knew the drill:

"Anything happens, stay inside until we come get you."

Jesse was the first to confront the man, while his gang stood ready with their guns. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

The stranger approached slowly, raising his free hand while holding the reins. "You boys the Seven Rivers Gang?" he asked, his worn, greying eyes scanning their faces.

"Who wants to know?" Jesse retorted.

"I'm looking for a Miss Eleanor Aubert," the stranger replied.

Jesse glowered. "Again—who wants to know?"

The stranger reached into his coat, prompting the gang to take aim. Keeping one hand raised, he pulled out a piece of paper. Eleanor watched intently from the dusty window.

"The notary wants to know. Henry Aubert is dead," he announced, "His daughter has a claim in his will."

Eleanor’s world shifted. Grief and disbelief collided within her, leaving her momentarily paralyzed. Her father was dead? Her fingers clenched the windowsill as she tried to process the news. She could hardly think straight.

Her instincts screamed caution. She didn’t trust this stranger. He might be telling the truth, but she couldn’t be sure. For all she knew, it was a trap laid by the army Captain, another weak ploy to lure her home. Nevertheless, with a steely resolve she stepped outside, drawing the attention of everyone present.

“I'm Henry's daughter,” she told him, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

The man turned to her, his expression softening, “Miss Aubert, I’m sorry for your loss. Your father’s will states that you have a claim to his estate. I’m here to ensure you receive what’s rightfully yours,”

Eleanor’s eyes narrowed, her mind racing. “And who are you, exactly?” she asked, come to stand before him, "I know my father's lawyer, you're not him,"

"No ma'am. I'm Mr. Roan's paralegal, William McTavish. They sent me on a wild goose chase trying to track you down," he handed her the paper, his gaze sincere, “I have documents to prove it. You can check my credentials, hell, you can talk with Mr. Roan yourself,”

She glanced at Jesse, who remained wary, his hand still on his gun. She turned her attention to the paper, and sure enough she was skimming the details of his death certificate.

She scoffed, "Ya'll found him in the marsh?"

"The doctor suspects he drowned after a drunken stupor," McTavish’s face was lined with exhaustion, but there was a flicker of hope in his eyes, “I know this is sudden, Miss Aubert. But I promise, I'm just here to carry out your father's will,”

Eleanor took a deep breath, the weight of her father’s death pressing down on her. She wished Billy were there, his presence a source of comfort and strength. But she had to face this alone. She turned to Jesse, “Drop your fuckin' guns,”

Jesse hesitated but finally nodded, signaling his men to lower their weapons. The stranger dismounted and approached Eleanor, extending the documents. She took them, her hands trembling slightly. As she read, a mix of grief and determination filled her. Even as Mr. McTavish rambled on about the details, what she was entitled to, how she had to come back to Rosario, Eleanor was only half listening.

She knew it wouldn't sink in until she saw his body, or his grave even, but Eleanor had to accept that her father was really dead.

Billy had found a new life for himself across the border in Chihuahua. He’d settled into the rhythm of the town, quickly learning that the locals didn’t always welcome gringos with open arms. But some of them, like Melquiades Segura, turned out to be more than alright. Melquiades, with his rough exterior and guarded nature, slowly became a reliable friend, a steady presence in Billy’s otherwise tumultuous life.

Despite the fresh start, trouble had a way of finding Billy, even in Mexico. Over the course of a few days, meeting swindling seńoritas and card king pins, he was left breathless and shaken, his heart pounding with the realization that running away hadn’t solved anything. He couldn’t keep dodging the shadows of his past, couldn’t keep pretending he was someone he wasn’t.

On his way back into town he met another character, Pat Garret, who he came to find out was riding with Jesse and his gang. The thought of reuniting with the group sent a chill through him, though at the same time Billy knew he didn't have many options.

So he followed Pat back to Jesse's new hide out, another old, abandoned house in the middle of nowhere. To say Jesse was surprised to see Billy was an understatement, and despite his lingering resentment, he welcome Billy back into the gang. He promised him work, a place to sleep, somewhere he could actually call home.

Everyone was still there. Bob, John, and Pat -- who stood out among the crowd in his dapper suit and sharp-brimmed hat. But the one person Billy couldn't help but notice was Eleanor—or the lack of her. Her absence felt like a gaping hole in the gang.

After a souless dinner of canned beans and dry bread, Billy found himself sitting across from Jesse. The tension between them was almost palpable, but Billy couldn't ignore the question burning inside him.

"Where's Eleanor?" he asked, his voice breaking the heavy silence.

Jesse looked up, his expression unreadable. For a moment, Billy wondered if he would even get an answer, fearing that perhaps he'd done something to her.

"Took off," he replied simply, "Said she'd be back within a week, she's been gone for two, now,"

Billy cocked a brow, a new fear riding within him, "Where'd she go?" he asked.

"Rosario. She got a message that her father passed and he left his land to her. She went to go claim it," Jesse explained, looking non-too worried for her absence, "Oh, don't worry, she didn't go alone. Some highf'lutin paralegal went with her,"

"You don't think it could be a trap?" he said.

Jesse scoffed, "Hey, we offered to go with her, she insisted she'd be fine. I'm not her keeper, Billy," he replied.

While Billy wasn't surprised by Jesse's aloofness, he couldn't believe how unmoved he seemed about Eleanor's disappearance. Just a month ago, Jesse had been so enamored with her that he'd practically threatened to fight Billy over her.

"And what if she doesn't come back by week three?" Billy pressed. "You gonna' go find her? After all, you're the one who swore to protect her..."

Jesse shrugged, an infuriating gesture to Billy as he stoked the firewood crackling in the pit, "Eleanor's a grown woman. If she wants to come back, she'll come back. If she doesn't, then she doesn't. It's a free country, after all,"

Billy clenched his jaw, holding back the words he wanted to hurl at Jesse. He could see through Jesse's cold facade. Jesse was heartbroken—just as heartbroken as Billy was. Only Jesse refused to show it in front of the boys.

Billy lay in bed that night, as wide awake as the owls that hooted just outside. The rough fabric of the blanket scratched against his skin, but it was the unease gnawing at his insides that kept him from sleep. His mind wandered to Eleanor, his heart aching with worry. Where was she now? Was she safe? The thought of her out there alone gnawed at him, and he couldn’t shake the image of her face from his mind.

The news of her father's death must have hit her hard. He could picture the grief etched on her delicate features, the sorrow in her eyes that she always tried to hide but never quite could. He wondered how she was coping, if she had anyone to lean on. The thought of her going through this alone gnawed at him, though at the same time it so reminiscent to him. It was one thing to know you still had people in the world, it was another to know they were gone for good.

Billy rolled onto his back, staring at the dark ceiling. He couldn't stop the relentless parade of "what ifs" that stormed through his mind. What if she was hurt? What if she needed him and he wasn't there? His fists clenched with the helplessness of it all, the frustration of not knowing where she was or if she was alright.

“You don’t love me, Billy... You don’t even know what that means,”

So what if he didn't? Wasn't it enough that he wanted her? Was it selfish of him to want to find her and convince her otherwise?

He ached to be there for her, to hold her and tell her everything would be alright. But instead, he was miles away, lying in the darkness, powerless to help. The thought that he might never get that chance made his chest tighten with dread. Billy turned onto his side, eyes squeezed shut, willing sleep to come and bring a reprieve from his worries.

But it never did. Instead, he lay there, the weight of his fears pressing down on him, the ache in his heart a constant reminder of the girl he loved and the hope that somehow, someday, he’d find his way back to her.

The days turned to weeks, and still there was no sign of Eleanor. Not even a letter telling the boys that she was okay. Anything could've happened to her out there, and scenario after scenario would play out in Billy's head. It seemed though that he was really the only one who was concerned as Jesse never brought her up again. It was as though she never existed in the first place.

He wondered if she was thinking of him, if she missed him as much as he missed her. The nights felt colder, the days longer without her presence. Every memory of her was a bittersweet reminder of what he’d lost. The way her eyes lit up when she laughed, the softness of her voice when she spoke his name—it all haunted him.

Nevertheless, life had to go on. Cattle were rustled, guns were fired, lives were lost. And much to his chagrin, Billy's name was getting around more and more. Pat Garret came back after an errand in town, touting a newspaper that detailed the crimes of the Seven Rivers Gang, as well as the "illustrious criminal career of Billy Bonny".

He didn't care to sit and listen to the rest of the article, his mind too tangled in his own thoughts. The weight of the lives he had taken pressed heavily on him. Guilt gnawed at his conscience, each face haunting him in the quiet of the night. He never pictured himself as a criminal, never imagined he’d fall so far from the person he once was. His mother’s disappointment was a constant shadow. She had raised him better, instilled in him values that he now seemed to trample with every wrong turn. It seemed that no matter what he did though, he could do no right.

His mother’s voice echoed in his mind, soft and loving, yet tinged with the pain of seeing her son stray from the path. What would she say if she saw him now? The thought twisted his stomach. He could almost hear her sigh of resignation, feel the warmth of her hand on his cheek, forgiving but forever changed.

And then there was Eleanor. She had a way of soothing his troubled heart, her words like balm to his soul. He could almost hear her voice, soft and reassuring, telling him it was okay. She would understand, she always did. She’d look into his eyes and see the good still within him, reminding him of the man he wanted to be.

Billy clenched his fists, the heat of the bonfire grounding him. He wanted to believe her, wanted to grasp onto the hope she offered. But the darkness was overwhelming, the guilt a relentless tide. How could he ever face her, knowing the blood on his hands? Yet, in the depths of his despair, he clung to the image of her, to the possibility of redemption through her eyes.

Jesse kept a watchful eye on Billy, still harboring doubts about his trustworthiness. Yet, he couldn't deny the impact the new environment was having on him. Billy was different—a sensitive soul in a world hardened by criminality. He needed time to adjust, to acclimate to the harsh realities they faced daily.

Despite Billy's initial hesitations and uncertainties, Jesse saw potential in him. He sensed an underlying strength and determination that could make Billy one of the most formidable members of their gang. With patience and guidance, Jesse believed Billy could grow into a great gunslinger, capable of navigating their dangerous world with a blend of resilience and compassion.

There was hardly any time for grief or contemplation of internal conflict in the following days, not when Frank Baker came to the gang touting the opportunity of a lifetime in the city of Lincoln.

"There's a big player up there, goes by the name of Lawrence P. Murphy," Frank explained, his voice smooth despite his rough and rugged exterior. "He owns stores, cattle, supplies Fort Stanton and the reservation offices with grain, cattle, horses—everything they need." Frank's distinguished manner contrasted sharply with his appearance, adding an air of credibility to his words. As he continued, his eyes kept drifting to Billy, who stood off to the side, listening quietly.

"Naturally, he wants to protect his operation, and that's where we come in," Frank went on, detailing Murphy's wealth and his desperation to keep his supply chain the only game in town. To do that, he needed some muscle, the hard, unfeeling kind.

Jesse and the boys were more than eager to take the job. Cattle rustling only brought in so much money, and a steady income from Murphy could secure them for a long, long time. But Frank's attention lingered on Billy, who remained unmoved and expressionless throughout the pitch.

"And Billy?" he called out to him, none the wiser to the grin that faded fast from Jesse, "I need to know where you stand in all this,"

Billy said nothing at first, letting him make his pitch, "If you agree to join us I guarantee Murphy can hire us. I'll tell you sum'thin' else," his smile broadened, "We'll make sure you get the biggest slice of the cake when it comes time to cut,"

"Just -- wait a minute there, Frank," Jesse intervened, his prior excitement having melted away into dismay, that lingering feeling of resentment returned to him.

Frank simply chuckled, "Billy's name alone is worth that," he told Jesse.

Jesse however would have none of it, "This is my gang, these are my boys," he replied sharply.

Pat meanwhile turned to Billy, watching him look off in the distance, still without saying a word. He looked pensive, conflicted, so mature and still Pat had to remind himself that Billy wasn't even twenty-years-old yet.

"You got to understand it, Jesse," Frank continued, "It's just not the same --" his words cut short as Jesse suddenly stood, sizing him up, his fists balled at his sides. No one would've been surprised if he took a swung at Frank, but they also knew what sort of stakes were at play if he did.

Finally, Billy spoke, eliciting nearly the entire table to turn his way, "Calm down, Jesse," he called, finally turning to the boys.

"You know he's right; I'm William H. Bonny," Billy touted, giving his head a shake, "Reason you came here, right Mr. Baker?"

Frank simply nodded, further intrigued with this young man as he continued to talk, "So from now on, if people want my services they're gonna' have to pay for it. As simple as that,"

If this was the life he was destined to lead, if this was how he could scrape by, Billy figured he might as well make the best of it. He had to ensure it paid him what he felt he was owed. After all, this was the role Jesse wanted him to embrace. And deep down, Billy couldn't deny the small hint of satisfaction bubbling in his gut at seeing Jesse so riled up.

"Sit down, Jesse," The look on Jesse's face alone was murderous, for a moment Pat swore he would lunge across the table and go for Billy's throat. Nevertheless, with his lip stiff and his eyes blown wide, he sat back down in silence. He wouldn't dare embarrass himself in front of Frank now, not with so much on the table.

The rush of adrenaline and the thrill of asserting himself in a world that demanded toughness—it was a stark contrast to the sensitive kid he used to be. Billy knew he had to adapt, to shed any remnants of his former self if he wanted to survive.

If only that was easier done than said...

[zeroseuniverse]

Sinful Urges

WC: 1.3K Pairing: Seokmin X Fem Reader Warnings: stabbing, death, murder

“I don’t think she likes me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She hit me with her car.”

“It could have been an accident.”

“She looked me dead in the eye and reversed.”

Honestly, Seokmin probably should have expected it, dragging a human out of their bed in the middle of the night didn’t typically warrant a friendly interaction. But in his defense he really had to win the bet against Dino, the youngest claiming that they as demons couldn’t take humans if their feet were uncovered at night. 

“Why are you so hung up on this human anyway? I know you have your flings but she’s a little too far from your usual type.” Joshua wondered, reclining back in his chair, the black markings on his face becoming more visible as the light shifted with his movement.

“It’s because she’s the only human that doesn’t lay down and take it.” Woozi snickered at his own statement, it was true, majority of Seokmin’s interest was piqued when the woman still had the balls to sass him even when he brought her into the underworld, however it might’ve also stemmed from the utter sin dripping the innocent looking woman.  It was odd to find someone so covered in the alluring scent of sins that his mouth almost watered when near, and her round face and doe eyes didn’t match the scent attached to her soul, making her all the more enticing.

“I just don’t understand how she can smell so good but I haven’t caught her doing anything remotely sinful.”

“Well you don’t follow her every second of every day.” Mingyu pointed out, his pointed teeth making his words almost sound like a hiss. “You do have other responsibilities, maybe she is just sneaky.” He had a point and almost every member of their legion knew that Seokmin was not as slick as he thought, the lower level demon was loud, his demon ability also gave off a low hum, and if you were aware of it you’d essentially have a beacon to him if he was close enough. 

“Take her by surprise, show up suddenly, completely out of your usual rotation.” Jeonghan suggested, the man finding the whole situation pretty funny, Seokmin has never been so interested in a female before it was only fitting he help this play out. 

“Won’t she sense me?” 

“Go a few days without showing up at all, she won’t expect it and you can just trick her.” Seungkwan explained, pulling out his mischievous side, Whole heartedly wanting to see this go up in flames, this human was a smart one that's for sure.

–

So showing up after a week without seeing her was driving him mad, was she always this pretty? She looked a little tired, was it because of him?  Did she notice his absence? So many questions bounced around his brain as he watched her hooded figure walk down the street. 

She was clad in thick clothes to combat the tough chill of the winter, he could hardly see the mask she had covering half of her face. Why was she out so late? And while it was so cold? He was a little annoyed that she'd be so stupid to do such a thing. 

She grinned silently to herself as she heard the slight hum in the air, he was near. In his absence she was a little disheartened, the annoying demon wasn’t there to pester her throughout her daily activities; it was all dull and boring. 

She was feeling rather agitated which is why she fell into her old habits she had been trying to reign in. Taking out most of her aggression on the immortal was probably the best plan she has ever had but with him taking a sudden absence, old habits die hard, as they say. 

The quiet hum Seokmin admitted was becoming quiet background noise, as the sound of a small fire crackled in the distance. Turning the corner into a small alleyway, sits a ragged homeless man curled around the fire, glossy eyes staring back at her. Her hands stuffed into her jacket pocket, fiddling with a small hunters knife. 

“Fine night, isn’t it Miss?” He croaks out, ushering her to join him. Enjoy the warmth of the small fire on the harsh winters’ night. She kneels down beside him, taking in his shaggy appearance on closer inspection, eyes’ glazed over, a sick blue tint to his cracked lips, and the dirt caked onto his tattered clothing, braiding into his long, unkempt hair. 

Seokmin's gaze almost felt piercing as his hum grew stronger, conflicting over the situation he loomed over. ‘How can she smell decadent, dripping in sin when her actions show no correlation?’. 

He’s ripped out of his train of thought at your sudden lunge towards the man. A silver glint catches his eye as the knife lodged itself in his neck, a curdled scream cuts through the silence. Blood sprays out as her smile widens. The homeless man weakly reaches to his neck, clawing at the knife as his hands stain crimson red. 

Seokmin takes in the sight of the man's hand going limp and the blood splattered across the woman’s face as if that would make it make sense. His quiet hum only encouraged her, feeling the need to put on a show for the demon spectator. The knife rips out and is quickly reinserted as the man falls back, choking gasps and cries filling her ears. 

“Rest easy, Mister.” Whispering out, almost in a songlike tone as she thrusts the knife in, allowing it to be drowned in his blood. She stills for a minute, breathing deeply as she stares down the life she’s taken. Almost as if on autopilot, she drags the body up against the dumpster, resting a blanket over him and stuffing the knife back in her pocket. Seokmin’s hum being the only thing on her mind. 

“You can come out now.” She hummed, hearing an almost silent chime, she probably wouldn’t have caught hadn’t the night not been as quiet as the dead. 

“So this is why you smell like sin?” He asked with a tilted head, eyes fluttering around the scene to get more information, the scent lingering around her grew after she killed the man, leaving little to deduce. The man was innocent. She just killed an innocent man.

“Like you haven’t done worse.” She shot back, pushing past him, as Seokmin rushed to follow her steps. 

“Not judging it, just curious how exactly you can keep it so quiet that a demon who follows you around hasn’t noticed.” He inquired while kicking the tip of his shoe into the path before him a little. 

“You aren’t around all of the time,” she shrugged, before taking a left turn down a new road, “And I haven’t been doing it recently.” Her tone was too casual for the blood caked in her nails. 

“Why's that? Scared the demon will catch you and take you away?” He teased, leaning his head forward to try to catch her gaze.

“Definitely not,” she deadpanned, slowing down her pace slightly now that she's further away from her crime, “You can’t die. So I’ve been getting most of my urges out on you without realizing, until you were gone.”

“So you…like having me around?” He asked confusedly, looking at the very odd woman next to him. She felt like a book with blank pages, he felt like no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get a clear read on her. 

“Yea, yea I guess I do.” She smiled softly at the thought. Maybe this demon isn’t so annoying after all. 

And with that the two lost souls intertwined just a little more, looking at each other with soft smiles and light hearts. The sweet scent of sin mixed with the gentle hum as they lost themselves in the snowy path home. 

“For the record I’ll let you stab me anytime,” He grinned before a loud,  “OW!” took over the quiet night followed by an agitated “What?! You offered!” 

A shout out to @mini-mews for being a savior and helping me with this story

[smeraldos]

Love by Daylight (1/2)

➸ characters: Seokjin x Reader

➸ genres: Sailor Moon!AU, fluff, sort of e2l

➸ tags: sly friends, petty enemies/secret crushes, running away from the mortifying ordeal of being known

➸ words: 2K+

➸ summary: The day you find out who your suave partner in saving the world is, you're absolutely, positively, without a doubt sure you'll be over the moon. You'll be so happy you'll think you're dreaming. Turns out you're right. You do think you're dreaming. Because this? This can't be real. You're being pranked. Someone, somewhere, is going to jump out and say you're on Candid Camera. (Please.)

>> PART 2

When the lights fade and the facades fall, this is what you’re left with: Tuxedo Mask without a mask, you without your moonlit glamor. Tux the civilian is handsome, you can tell, and this is it—the moment you’ve been waiting for.

He lifts his face.

The youma's words come rushing back: Let the truth be known, the city’s deepest secrets shown.

Tuxedo Mask is none other than Kim Seokjin.

Suddenly, you’re reminded of a crystalline city; people bowing before you; Seokjin taking your hand, your matching rings gleaming in the light. Was it a memory or a dream?

You stand there, dumbfounded, until Tux/Seokjin dons his mask and brushes past. “Come on, Sailor Moon,” he says, sensible enough to use your alias. “The coast is clear. We’ve got a fight to finish.”

☾

“Why does it have to be Seokjin?" You whine, collapsing into bed and disturbing your sleeping cat. (In your defense, he was on your pillow. Which you’ve told him numerous times not to lay down on because his fur would shed.) Luckily, Agust is acquainted with your dramatic side and simply gets up to move.

“Well, why do you have to be Sailor Moon?” He points out. “It could have been someone less bothersome.”

“Hey,” you retaliate. “You’re the one who came to me. You could have given anyone the Lunar Key.”

“I didn't have a choice.”

“What do you mean you didn’t? You could have walked away and picked someone better, just like that.”

He scoffs. “Not when it’s the Queen.”

“Queen-schmeen." You flop back onto your bed, the springs creaking in protest. "I bet Her Royal Highness is on her throne right now, all nice and comfy. She couldn't care less."

Agust doesn't reply.

At first, you think it's because you've won and nothing else can be said, but when the silence stretches on, you know something is off. You sit up to see Agust no longer curled into himself, but sitting. He stares out your window into the night, his normally keen eyes empty. "She's dead."

Judging by his somber tone, she'd meant a lot to him. "I'm sorry," you whisper.

Agust sighs. "No need to apologize, kid. She was your mother, after all."

"My mother?"

"Not now," he amends. "But she was a long time ago, when you were the princess of the moon and Seokjin the prince of the earth.”

☾

The next morning, you head to school on time.

Your mom—present day mom—was surprised to see you up early, and Jeongguk called you out like the bratty brother he was (wow, no morning run today?), but the truth was you couldn’t sleep.

Last night, Agust recounted your past, how the dark eclipsed the moon. Although the queen tried her best to protect the kingdom, it was to no avail. Seokjin died in the fray, and you fell shortly after, helpless to save your beloved. In the end, the queen sacrificed herself to give you and Seokjin another chance at love, her people another chance at happiness.

A chance to rebuild the Silver Millennium.

The thing was, you didn’t know if that was what you wanted. Not that you’d want the Dark Kingdom to reign, but you weren’t sure whether you wanted to rule in your mother’s stead. Or marry Seokjin. Past you might have wanted to, but the you now could barely stand him. And neither could he. Or so you thought. You’d gotten along just fine with Tuxedo Mask, even grown a crush, but that wasn’t enough to warrant a marriage.

“Hello? Veen to Selene*?” Someone nudges your shoulder, and with a start, you notice Mina looking at you in concern.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“Nothing yet, but it looks like you’ve got something on your mind. What’s up?”

You’re about to tell her when you see Seokjin approaching, his uniform blazer neatly pressed.

“Morning, ______,” Seokjin says. “Mina.”

“Morning,” you reply, ready for whatever biting remark he’d say next. But once Namjoon comes up, he leaves. That's it.

Even Mina, who hardly sees the two of you interact, notices. "That's the first time I've seen you guys polite. It's weird. What happened?"

After a discreet look around, you grab her by the elbow. “He's Tux,” you hiss, but Mina doesn’t look the least bit shocked. Her face breaks out into a giddy grin, like a child who’s finally tall enough to get on the big kid ride.

“You knew?” You ask, a little hurt she didn’t tell you.

She pouts, squishing your cheeks together. “Don’t be mad. You don't know how hard it was to keep it a secret.”

◑

You don't blame Mina, for the most part. It would have been better if you hadn’t known who Tuxedo Mask was, and vice versa. You felt like Cinderella running away from the ball, her beautiful dress giving way to rags and ratty shoes. If the prince caught up to her then, she’d probably be humiliated.

Just like you are now.

Tuxedo Mask has seen you at your most embarrassing moments, fighting to have the last word (or milkshake) as Seokjin, and also at your best, saving civilians with grace. You've only wanted him to see the best of you, for him to think of you as the perfect wonder-girl heroine everyone else saw you as, but he's seen almost every side. You don't know what he sees in you now, if anything. And frankly, you don't want to know.

"Have you ever thought that maybe he's thinking what you're thinking?" Mina asks. "You've seen all the good and bad in him, too."

"But it's different when he doesn't have a crush on Sailor Moon!" You say, exasperated.

"Oh, I wouldn’t be sure about that if I were you."

Seokjin thinking of your alter ego that way is embarrassing, but considering he's also Tuxedo Mask...now your face is red, you can feel it. Red as roses in bloom. "You're joking, right?"

"Why don't you wait and see," Mina replies, as cryptically as when she was Sailor V and you hadn't known any better. Having sympathy for you, she gives you a warm smile. "Don't stress out too much, Moon. You're amazing either way. Just talk to him."

◑

You think there's some reconnaissance to sort out first. When you walked into Crown Arcade and saw Seokjin talking to Jimin pretty intently, you didn’t want to interrupt...okay, who were you kidding? You chickened out.

But Jimin is his best friend, so he'll know how Seokjin feels the most, right? It's the next best alternative to actually speaking to Seokjin, which, well, you aren't ready for. Case in point: you've done the impossible and made yourself scarce. You aren’t about to break your streak now.

So the instant Seokjin leaves, you walk up to the counter. Jimin looks up from sprinkling a milkshake. "Hey. The usual?"

"Yeah, just double on the chocolate."

"You got it," he says, passing the drinks he finished making to a server. You watch him blend milk into ice cream, then reach over for a new cup to pour the mixture into later. It's all done with practiced ease, and you marvel at how quick he is, not to mention how beautiful the finished milkshake looks after. The chocolate is perfect, the whipped cream a cloud of snow drizzled with dark syrup.

Jimin slides it over with a grin. "Mademoiselle."

"Why, thank you," you say, digging in with gusto. This is exactly what "stressed is desserts spelled backwards," meant: Jimin's milkshakes never fail to kick your worries down a notch.

"Good?" He asks.

"Mhm," you mumble, more to your milkshake than to him, when the thought that you haven't paid yet crosses your mind. Oh gosh. You pull your purse onto your lap, but Jimin chuckles, stopping you.

"I've got it covered. Besides, I heard you weren't yourself lately."

"Really?"

He shrugs. "From the way you're devouring that, it's kind of hard to believe…"

You take an extra large mouthful to prove his point.

"But you only lay on the chocolate when you're bummed," he finishes, and you’d protest if you hadn’t made it a habit to drown your sorrows in his milkshakes. They were just too good to resist. Not to mention Jimin is a great listener. Your girls, although you love them, aren't always the best. You'd catch the moment they crossed over from attentive to "Is she done yet?" but with Jimin, you've never had that issue. Turns out you have a different one.

"I hate how perceptive you are."

He laughs. "You're just predictable."

"You know what? You can take back your milkshake and go back to work," you say in a fit of grumpiness, pushing the glass back to him.

"Are you sure you want me to do that?"

You meet him eye to eye. After a minute—a long, impressive minute might you add—you take it back. "Fine. What do you want to hear?"

"Anything you want to tell me. And if it's something you can't share, please tell someone you can. It's not great to keep things bottled up, trust me."

You sigh.

"Here's the deal," you begin, feeling a little weird telling your old crush about your new one, but marching through nevertheless, "I met someone on...online. He's nice and funny and understands me even though he's different. I just click with him, and eventually, I want to tell him I like him. The thing is, I don't really know who he is. We've been chatting on Discord and his profile picture is Tuxedo Mask, but he can't be Tuxedo Mask. Or maybe he is, who knows?"

Jimin laughs. If only he knew.

"Anywho," you continue, "I meet him and find out he's someone I actually know...but he's a pest. He always gets on my nerves and it's like he's a completely different person! I don't even know how that's possible, but apparently it is and it's just so frustrating."

Jimin doesn't speak for a while, which is fine by you. You take the time to jam spoonfuls of chocolate and cream into your mouth.

"You know," he finally says, amused, "that sounds a little like the plot to You've Got Mail."

"That isn't funny.” You huff. “Joe Fox was a jerk and I don't know why they played him off as charming."

"Isn't that what you think of the guy?"

"I never said he was a jerk."

"But you said he was a pest."

"That isn't the s—" You pull at your hair. "Ugh. I don't know anymore."

"Did you talk to him?"

"And what? Spill my complicated feelings?"

"No, just talk to him. You don't have to confess right now. Just air out the laundry and see where you guys are at. Chances are, if you're confused, then he's confused, too, and there's no way either of you can get out of it without talking to each other."

"I can't talk to him, Jimin. I avoided him for three weeks! He's going to hate me."

"He isn't," Jimin says firmly, and you wish you could have the same conviction. "Sure, he'll be upset, but if he's really someone who cares, he'll listen. Look, during that time you avoided him, did he try to reach out?"

"Well, I told him I didn't want to talk and he stopped asking."

"So he'll listen. If it turns out he hates you, give him a piece of your mind and I'll give you triple chocolate milkshakes on the house."

When he puts it like that, talking to Seokjin doesn't seem as dreadful. "You're not just saying that?"

"Have I ever said something I didn't mean?"

You get your answer when someone comes trudging in, holding up a bag from your go-to fast food joint. "Jimin! You better be grateful I drove all the way downtown to get you these burgers. Since when did you like ______'s favorite, anyways?"

"Since now," your traitor of a friend says. You glare at him, which he conveniently ignores.

"You're the best," he tells a surprised Seokjin, leaving with a pat on his shoulder. "Enjoy your meal!"

>> NEXT

...

note:

*Venus to Selene, like "Earth to [insert name]?" but replace Earth with Venus and [name] with Selene, Greek goddess of the moon

[sophi-s]

Cost of Kindness

Chapter I: Chance encounter

By: sophi-s

Fandom: Darksiders video games

Words: 6,471

Characters: Original female character (OC), Raphael

Warnings: Graphic description of corpses, blood and injuries, disturbing imagery, swearing

Summary:

Life of a human after the apocalypse is difficult. The world seems to always be against them. Still, they keep on living. But one day something unexpected happens to one of the inhabitants of Haven. A woman named Nicola discovered something... or rather someone... who seemed to be in equally as sorry state as her entire race put together. Nothing was the same ever since. It's curious how one seemingly random event can change everything...

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

Nicola got lost again. All the promises she made to both Ulthane and Jones have gone into trash when with a pang of worry she's suddenly realised she does not know where Haven is. It was supposed to be a short supply run, a little trip to some ruined store in search of food and maybe some medicine if luck wished to be on her side and it turned into a whole day long journey. She hadn't been careful enough and ended up getting spotted. She was too fast for that Trauma to get to her before she disappeared into a narrow alley but she successfully lost her orientation.

Navigating through the city used to be so easy before all this apocalypse nonsense. Nicola knew her way around better than anyone honestly. Now everything looked different. What once was her home now seemed sinister and the animosity could be felt in every, even the tiniest speck of dust. All streets, previously so familiar to her, looked exactly the same, often cut in half by obsidian spikes and pits of boiling magma which made moving around even more troubling. In short words, the entire place was a wreckage. With each moment of aimless wandering, her panic was growing. Inwardly cursing, thinking about all the reprimanding she would get after she somehow finds her way back and the fact that she's most likely going to get grounded forever, she tried to move through the street as quietly as possible, without causing any unnecessary noises. Becoming an evening snack for a pack of Goreclaws or a Trauma wasn't a very attractive fate. The latter could still be around here somewhere and the blood spilling from a cut on her forehead she got when she accidentally ran into a wooden beam protruding from a wall wasn't going to make it harder for it to eventually find her again.. It was very unlikely that the Trauma could've gotten stuck in that alley after it tried to get to her. They are dumb. But not that dumb. Though the mental image alone was quite hilarious now that she thinks about it.. To some extent imagining a Trauma helplessly shuffling to try and unstuck itself from a narrow pathway made her feel a tad better, even crack a little smile. Still, she had to think of something. She'd already lived through too much to just die at this point.

Evening? Clutching a shotgun in her shaking hands, Nicola looks out at the amber sky and her heart hastens when she realises that it really is getting late. The last rays of sun were slowly sinking behind the horizon, slowly turning the sky from warm orange to indigo as the tall buildings bathed the city in deep shadows stretching over the ground like dark omens. Just perfect. There was no other choice for her than to hide somewhere and wait until dawn and resume her search tomorrow, hoping someone will start looking for her. Going anywhere after the dusk was an equivalent of a  suicide. Demons and the Wicked tend to be especially active after the nightfall.. Nicola would rather not bump into one of the Suffering either, those things are especially nasty. Hulking, four-armed abominations melded with bodies of the dead, bringing back all those poor souls who weren't lucky enough to get away… she shudders at the thought and hastens her pace.

Most of the houses were already destroyed and usually infested with all kinds of detestable creatures she'd rather avoid - from Wicked, through all kinds of demons and Duskwings, to enormous spiders ready to cocoon any unfortunate passerby for a snack - unfit to be a shelter. But honestly, what wasn't crawling with Hellspawn these days? They were everywhere, as far as the sight can reach. Heaving out a long suffering sigh, Nicola decided to hide underneath the city, hoping she won't find any monsters there.

That was not one of her most brilliant ideas but in truth whatever she chose, it would be just as bad and she hardly cared at this point. Her legs felt as though they went a couple of inches up her arse from all day of walking and running and her empty stomach growled hungrily as she didn't get a chance to stop and eat a sandwich hidden in her backpack. It didn't take long to find a lid of a well leading to the sewers below. Just in case, Nicola dug some new shells out from her backpack and shoved them into her pocket to have easy access to them before pulling the lid out and uncovering a stinking hole in the pavement. The strong "aroma" that drifted out hit her like a brick to the face.

"Ugh.."

Nicola groaned, pinching her nose. Even after the literal armageddon, she still found sewers to be one of the grossest things ever. Like, come on, that's where all the piss and shit goes and a person who enters the sewers for even a minute comes out coated in this stench. Oh well.. It can't be worse than getting torn to shreds by a Goreclaw, can it? Up here was definitely worse than below. Everything she'd met so far - except for Ulthane, Yarin and Elanya - was trying to kill her lately. At least there was no sign of the Big Bad anywhere… Nicola had seen the so-called Destroyer only once and it was enough to last her a lifetime, considering how close she'd been back then. The fact that he didn't spot her, she probably owed the fact that she was somewhere to his right and from what she'd seen his right eye wasn't exactly in good condition. Though, she couldn't deny that the dragon did look sick as Hell - she cringed inwardly at the bad joke her mind produced - and if she wasn't scared shittless and in danger of getting eaten or burned alive, she probably would've taken out her notebook and tried to sketch him. Not often does one see a dragon up this close and Nicola had a habit of drawing anything even remotely interesting she sees. And the more challenging the thing is, the better. In her sketchbook, she already had Ulthane and his younger companions, Vulgrim, some other demons and a Fallen. The last thing she did see pretty damn close. Too close for her liking.

Pulling her stained, dark-blue neckerchief up to her nose as a mostly useless mask against the foul smell, she crouches down and with a loose piece of a brick scratches out a message on the ground, hoping either Jones or some other survivor will find it.

I'M IN THE SEWER

NIKA <3

Just to make it clear, she tears a piece of her already ragged sleeve off and places it under the aforementioned brick next to the message. It's not much but it has to be enough… Without further ado, Nicola slid inside the dark hole and closed the lid above her head. Utter blackness immediately closed around her like a thick coverlet. A quiet sound of dripping, echoing through the tunnel was all that she could hear.

Plip. Plop. Plip. Plop.

Should've thought about taking out a flashlight before cutting off the only source of light.

Grumbling under her breath, Nicola jumped down from a small ladder. But instead of landing on the hard and straight ground, her feet connected with something soft and uneven. With a small yelp, she lost her balance and fell flat onto the actual floor with a wet "Thwack!". Please just be regular water… She begged the puddle underneath her as she scrambled to her feet and pulled the backpack from her shoulders. For a few minutes, she blindly searched through her things, probing for the light source. When her fingers found the flashlight and she turned it on however, she nearly screamed.

That thing she landed on wasn't a mound of garbage like she previously assumed but a body. Body of a dead Phantom General. Its skin was in an unhealthy pallid shade, misty eyes were bulging out of their sockets. And the squishy bit she landed on was its face. Nicola nervously laughs to herself

"Maybe the stench killed him?"

The thought of a large demon dying in a sewer just because it smells bad was kind of amusing and a little comforting. But then she realised that if that was the case, then there's nothing to laugh at. What if there are some poisonous gases in here? Hydrogen sulfide, for example? If it killed a demon, undoubtedly much more hearty, then why shouldn't it do so with a human?

"Shit.. I hope not…"

Nicola curses and immediately presses the neckerchief closer to her face like it would do her any good. Well, no point in wondering about it now. If she were to get poisoned then she probably already was so… Father would be so disappointed if he found out she died in a sewer by inhaling toxic gas. I should've paid more attention to chemistry lessons…  Anyway.. Standing here will not make it any better. She might as well find herself a place to rest for a while or forever. Unless healing shards work on that stuff, she had nothing on her to help should she get poisoned. Flinging her backpack over her shoulder, Nicola turns away from the corpse and peers into the dark pathway which opened before her like a gullet of a gargantuan monster waiting to swallow her whole. Having absolutely no idea that this choice would change her miserable life forever, she takes a breath and bravely moves onward.

The Phantom General wasn't the only one. As Nicola walked deeper into the dark, stinking corridor, she noticed more bodies. Goreclaws, Wicked, Phantom Guards, even a couple of Duskwings and - this was the most unsettling discovery - the serpentine Shadowcaster… all of them pale and wizened. An unnerving feeling grew in her stomach. Nicola had seen much death as of late but this… this was horrifying. It was like walking through a tomb or a mass grave. Up close she could see something she hadn't noticed before. Something that made her mouth turn sandpaper. All of the bodies seemed… dried for the lack of a better word. As though something had drained them of their blood, leaving only shriveled husks behind. But there were no wounds, no markings. Nicola gulps at the thought that whatever killed them might still be down here with her.

Backing away, she takes a turn into another section and curls up in a corner by a metal grate blocking the way ahead. Nicola turns the flashlight off and hugs her knees to her chest, trying to control her fearful breathing. Climbing down into the sewers wasn't such a good idea after all. What if… what if there are things far worse down here than the demons she'd already seen? Her parents often scared her with stories of monsters lurking in the dark pipes and winding tunnels when she was a child but those were only supposed to keep her away from the sewers. The true reason was always the toxic miasma drifting through them. Or so she thought as she grew older. Now it seems that the former turned out to be true… And if it murdered a Shadowcaster just like that, then it was a creature to be reckoned with, no doubt.

Whatever it is that hides in here, Nicola didn't want to meet it. Whether it was a classic sewer monster, grotesque, with teeth and tentacles, or something else it didn't matter. Looking down at her left wrist, where her blessedly still working electrical watch with sun batteries was, she squinted at the numbers it showed.

7:48 P.M.

This was going to be a long night… If she survives this, she would get out and return to the Tree, and tell Ulthane she will never leave again. Essentially, she'd ground herself for him. If she could find her way back, that is.. And this might prove rather tricky. Maybe if she could find a Serpent Hole and bribe Vulgrim to take her to Haven, it would be much easier. But then again, she will have to give him something. Aside from her soul, she had nothing he would be interested in and that she could still make use of. Damn it, why is it so cold in here? Pulling the zip of her vest up to her chin, she curls up even more and hides her hands in her pockets to seek any warmth she could find. The stench wasn't even phasing her anymore. Nicola got used to it after the first few minutes. Besides, her fear was what she was mostly focused on. At least she didn't feel anything that would hint at being poisoned.. Whatever deadly stuff was down here before must've dispersed some time after the apocalypse after the disuse of the sewers. And thank God for that..

Meow…

Her head snapped up at the echo coming from the tunnel she backed out from. It was very weak and quiet but she definitely heard something that sounded vaguely like a cat. A very small and very scared cat.

Meow…

There it was again. This time accompanied by a barely visible flash of light coming from the tunnel further down. Cursing her innate curiosity, she pulled herself up to her feet and snuck towards the entrance to her little hidey-hole. The light appeared again before slowly fading. It looked a little like… like someone was coming here with a broken flashlight. Could it… could it be someone from the Tree? Maybe another survivor lost their way in the sewers? Picking up her shotgun, she decides to check it out, the thoughts of a monster not forgotten per se, but definitely pushed to the back of her mind. Wary of every step she makes, she follows the light and the sounds of a distressed animal. Sleep was never an option anyway..

As she walked onwards, the lights were getting brighter, the meowing louder and the pounding of her heart faster. There were more corpses in various states of decay and skeletons strewn about the further she headed but she decided to stay brave. Should anything attack her, she has the shotgun at the ready. Something in her head laughed at her hysterically. How can she be so naive to think that if there's a monster down here her pathetic shotgun can do it much harm? It didn't have a problem with killing all those things. Why would it have a problem with Nicola and her weak human weapon? Besides, even if she did manage to defend herself, one shot from that thing would bring half of the city down on her head. And that was something she definitely wanted to avoid.

Meow!

Another flash. Her surroundings were slowly starting to change. The bodies were left behind and she started to notice wooden crates lying here and there as though someone meant to hide the passage further down. Was this a hide out if some sort? Flash again.

Meow!

And then…

"Hush, little one… I won't let them hurt you again…"

Nicola's heart hastened when a shaky voice reached her. There really was someone down here! However, she doesn't let her ecstasy control her. They don't necessarily have to be friendly. Everyone is permanently scared and paranoid since the apocalypse and if she jumped out from a dark sewer without a warning she's more likely to receive a bullet to the face than a warm welcome. A flash, very bright this time. Before, she didn't notice it but the light was actually… green? Soft, soothing shade of green. Who uses a green flashlight? Someone who didn't have any other. We're in an apocalypse, for God's sake. Shrugging, she sneaks up towards the turn and carefully peeks into the new corridor, unable to take the anticipation any longer. And she freezes.

There were many things Nicola expected to find. Even the sewer monster was higher on her list of possibilities. But not this. Before her, approximately fifteen feet or so, in a makeshift shelter made out of ratty curtains and wooden boxes sat a humanoid figure. They were wearing some sort of metal shoulder pads on their ragged, dark green clothing, worn and stained, once undoubtedly fine knee-high boots, and a tattered and dirty hood. The gilded edges of their pauldrons were smudged and tarnished, as were the clips of the belts on their hips and across their chest. A pair of disheveled, dusted grey, feathery wings was closed around them like two shields protecting their sides and keeping the warmth in the resulting heat cave. Through a gap between the feathers, she noticed strands of long, white hair in the similar state as the wings spilling from under the hood.

This was one of those… those angels who came as the apocalypse began. Only… This one didn't seem like the rest. They didn't look like one of the warriors. And were unarmed at that, she realises once she doesn't catch a sight of any sort of weapon nearby. 

Meow!

Nicola heard it clearly now, and trying to track down the source of the sound, her eyes wandered to a hand of the angel, one which they held close to their chest. And there, on their large palm rested a tiny ball of fluff with its fur clogged with blood. The angel was hunched over a wounded kitten, and from time to time they brought up the other hand and gently ran their trembling fingers wrapped in stained bandages over the jagged claw mark along its spine. The green light flared up from angel's fingertips as gradually the wound was stitching itself. A sorcerer then. If meeting Shadowcasters was any indicator, then it would be better not to mess with this one.

Meow!

The kitten cried again and the angel, now she was pretty sure it was a male, spoke with a soft and calming, but shaking voice that reached to the depth of her soul.

"Fret not… it will be over. Soon enough."

In honesty, Nicola really had to stop herself from making a loud "awww" noise as she watched this angel treat a tiny injured kitten. How did he get here in the first place? Shouldn't he be with the rest of his buddies? She honestly never thought one of them would ever fall so low as to hide in a sewer of all places. Unless there was no other option. He must've gotten lost or something.. She thinks, almost snickering at how similar to hers this situation was.

To make no mistake, she didn't want to approach the angel, especially after what she'd seen during the apocalypse - most of them didn't give two shits about what happen to her race - and so Nicola decided, even if slightly disappointed that it wasn't another human survivor or someone looking for her like she previously assumed, to go away and leave him be with his kitten. The angels the apocalypse has shown to her were hardly the kind and thoroughly good creatures the image of she grew up with.. But then, nature decided to play a cruel prank on her and a horrifyingly loud sound of her stomach rumbling was carried over the immediate vicinity.

Nicola cursed inwardly at her stupid stomach - really, she would've eaten that sandwich but the smell of the server was very unappetizing - when the angel quickly looked up before gently placing the cat down on a piece of folded cloth and snapping his fingers to produce a small wisp of normal, white light. Now, his face wasn't obscured by the shadow of his hood. It was just like a face of a human, especially with all the grime smeared over it, just more… how to describe it? Features were more apparent, simultaneously sharp and smooth. Like those of a sculpture. Almost overly perfect. However, he looked ill, emaciated with his cheeks collapsed like this and sunken eyes, seemingly too large for his head. His eyes… brilliant white with faint silvery pupils, glowing like two wisps, opened wide in an absolutely blank, emotionless stare, not unlike that of a man in feverish delirium. How long had he been down here?

"Who.. who's there..?"

His lips barely moved as he spoke, his wide eyes darted around in panic as he searched for intruders. Not that she could blame him. Her stomach sounded like a starving demon and as far as she's concerned, his kind isn't really fond of those.. The angel looked a little like a terrified, wounded animal that had been cornered by predators with no apparent way out. It was… sad somehow. Since she'd already been heard, Nicola carefully stepped out of her hiding spot. The reaction she got however, was far different from what she's been expecting. The angel gasped, his wings shot up like two enormous flags as he lifted his hands. Green magic crackled along his slender fingers with most of the nails broken and bloodied as she froze where she stood.

"G- get away! Back off, foul creature!"

He stuttered but didn't attack just yet. Swallowing a lump of fear Nicola forced herself to very, very slowly and carefully take a few steps closer to enter the illuminated area around the scared angel to make him realise this is a misunderstanding and she means no harm. She even left her gun on the floor not to make him feel threatened and kept her hands up, palms forward where he could see them. He squinted but this hollow look in his eyes remained. Disturbing… Even more so when he started to mutter nervously to himself, rubbing his eyebrows with his thumb.

"No… not a demon, nor an angel, a human perhaps…? Yes, yes… has to be… But that's not possible.. They're… they're all gone. Dead, killed, stone dead… Who is this and what do you want? Your tricks won't work on me.."

"I- I'm not trying to trick you, I swear! I am a human. I'm Nicola.."

She assures the angel, hoping that giving him her name will make him feel a little less threatened. A quiet sigh of relief slipped past Nicola's lips when the magic in his hands faded as he curiously - a little like a small, inquisitive puppy - tilted his head to the left.

"Nic… ola…"

He breathed, mulling over her name, testing it on his tongue but his wings still remained aggressively flared above his head. The kitten meowed again, too weak to stand up from the bedding the angel made for it. He seemed to calm down a bit as he glanced down at it and with a flick of his finger made the animal lazily blink before it curled into a ball and immediately fell asleep. The wound on its back wasn't so large anymore and it wasn't bleeding so the black fluff with white feet and collar wasn't in any immediate danger. Angel's attention shifted back to her. But Nicola was the first one to speak.

"Who are you? How'd you get down here?

"Don't know… Human… a human. How did you get in my study? You really shouldn't be here. What is it you want from me? I'm working on improving my shards…"

"I-... Wait, your what ?"

Nicola's face scrunched up in confusion. Get in where? Working on improving his what??

"No, this isn't right… they need more energy…"

At this point she had absolutely no idea what the angel was rambling on about but she could clearly see he was completely out of his mind. Frankly speaking, she wasn't actually sure if he knows what he's babbling either.. There was only one thing that came to her mind when he spoke of shards and so she dug into her pocket, trying to find the one she'd been carrying with her just in case as he clutched at his head, tangling his fingers into his hair under his hood…

"It worked… I did it, I can… but it hurts… Creator, how it hurts… Cold.. so cold…"

His voice was starting to break as his unsteady breathing turned into something akin to sobbing but no tears were shed and he started to rock back and forth, still muttering something unintelligible. Something in Nicola's gut squirmed - or maybe it was the hunger again - as she looked at the scrawny angel mercifully. Whatever happened to him, it must've been horrible. It takes a very traumatic experience to bring a human to such a state but an angel is a different story. Seeing anyone like this saddened her. Finally, her fingers found what they were searching for and she extracted a small healing shard from her vest.

"You mean like…"

At the gentle, green glow the shard was emitting, the angel looked up astonished and let his mouth fall open. He stopped shaking and grasping his head.

"Yes… yes, my shard. I need… My blade. Where's my blade? Who…? My name? My name… I remember, I swear."

This talk of a blade was mildly unsettling to say the least but something in her chest twisted with pity and all fear left her. A little more bravely, Nicola approached the murmuring angel who attempted to scratch something out on the floor beside his knee but only successfully broke one of his nails again and hissed quietly. What happened to you, you poor thing? When she crouched next to him, he stared at her as though he'd seen a ghost when she realised he isn't looking into her eyes anymore. But at her forehead.

"You're… injured…"

He stated as matter of factly. Oh. Right. That was true. It barely hurt anymore though… and wasn't even bleeding. She's certainly had much worse. It will heal on its own in no time.

"Let me just-"

Suddenly he leaned forward to grab at her, making her heart leap up to her throat as she cried out in fear and jumped away from him. Instinctively, Nicola booked it for the tunnel she came from when she heard a heavy thud and a pained groan behind her.. It was her good hearted nature what ultimately made her stop in her tracks and look over her shoulder. To see the angel on the floor, weakly propping himself on his elbows and breathing heavily. He was very weakened. It's unclear how long he'd been down here but it certainly has taken its toll. Nicola looked out into the dark tunnel. Whatever awaited her in this darkness and out in the city surely isn't nicer than this poor sod behind her. She wasn't even sure if he actually meant to hurt her or not. It was a reflex. Then she turned to look back at the angel shivering on the wet floor.. Her throat tightened. God, she couldn't just leave it like this, could she?

"H- hey… are- are you okay?"

Nicola approaches the angel warily and squats before him as he lifts his head to look at her. And in his eyes she sees pain. Horrible, unimaginable pain, somewhere deep within, that made his crusted lips tremble. Such a sight would be enough to break even the coldest hearts. And definitely more than enough to break hers. He eyes her hands when she hesitantly takes him by the arm - careful when she notices a rag stained with fresh blood above his left elbow - and tries to pull him up to his feet or at least to a sitting position but he doesn't recoil. He simply kept staring at her hands in bewilderment. To her surprise, he was much lighter than he looked, probably because of how thin he was, and she managed to do what she intended but she could see that his legs won't uphold his weight as meager as it is. The angel glanced at the cut on her head and once again, albeit far more cautiously, reached out towards it.

"I can… I can heal it. Just hold still.. It will take a second.."

And in spite of herself, Nicola gives him a chance this time. He extended two fingers and as their tips started to glow with green, he gently tapped against her damaged skin. It felt… odd. It wasn't painful but still strange. The edges of the wound grew numb and prickly as the patch of comforting warmth fell over her forehead. And what was even odder, the angel smiled slightly, whispering

"There… It is done.. I.. remember. Was it…? It was, wasn't it… Raphael?"

"Wh- what? What are you talking about, who's Raphael?"

Nicola asks, probing the new, thin scar that was now formed in place of the cut. He really did heal her. Curious. And it did take a second.. For a moment, his face scrunched up in confusion but only for this second before he brightened and some of the strange mist fell from his white eyes as he brought both of his hands up and repeatedly poked his chest with all of his fingers.

"Me.. Raphael is… it's me! And you…"

He extended one finger and aimed it at her head.

"You are Nicola. "

"Y- yeah. Nice to meet you, I guess…"

She hesitantly replies as the circumstances of this meeting weren't exactly "nice". In a dark, damp sewer filled with stench and corpses with a possible monster lurking nearby? Far from nice if someone would ask her.

"What.. huh. What is this place?"

Raphael unexpectedly asked, looking around with his large, white eyes, blinking in confusion. Nicola pulls a face, unsure how to tackle the odd angel.

"You… don't know? You've been living here."

"Have I? Hmmm.. Strange…"

He murmured thoughtfully, scratching at his white goatee also painted with blood that surely spilled from the cut on his lower lip. Then his face shifted into concern as he tried to pull himself up with a strained grunt, clutching at an old, but not healed yet, gash over his ribs.

"I… I have to get back.. they need me in the White City…"

As she was expecting, he collapsed back onto the floor with a tired sigh not even a second later. Where and what was the "White City" he spoke of, she had no idea. What she did know however, was that in his condition Raphael isn't going anywhere. Even if he managed to get up, she could bet her right hand that he would make ten steps at most before collapsing again. Nicola winces and tilts her head to the side.

"Pal, I don't think you're in shape for walking or flying right now.."

"No, I suppose not… they cannot see me like this. I cannot return.."

At this point she wasn't surprised that Raphael kept muttering to himself about things her human brain couldn't hope to comprehend. Nicola got long used to this however. Ever since the armageddon there were very few things she could understand. It wasn't a normal day if something new and weird didn't happen to her or one of her remaining friends. Any hostility the angel showed before has faded now, his wings folded back around him as he leaned over the sleeping kitten to continue treating it. The gentleness he did it with, the uncertain smile on his face were making Nicola's heart melt. Raphael didn't seem like his friends indeed. He was different somehow. Kinder, softer. Less aggressive. More fitting the image of a stereotypical angel. But also definitely not quite… right. Up in the head.

Oh, well. Who is totally normal these days, honestly?

She wants to chuckle to herself when something gives her a pause. A horrifyingly familiar sound coming from the tunnel behind her. Panting, scraping and growling. Inevitably getting closer and closer. Her heart plummets to her heels. This sound… she would recognise it everywhere. The sound that haunted her dreams ever since the demon tore her twin brother, Nicholas, to shreds. This demon.. a Goreclaw, as Ulthane called it. Whipping around, she just managed to spot the quadrupedal monster - the size of your average Caucasian Shepherd (which was still awfully large for its kind), with long, lashing tail and sharp fangs constantly bared in a disturbing grin - appear in the entrance, cutting off the only escape route.

It must've heard Nicola's startled scream and followed it all the way here, hoping for an easy prey. Her breath caught in her throat as she stands paralyzed by the blood-hungry glare of multiple red eyes. This ugly mug, covered in blood of her sibling was still fresh in her mind, keeping her absolutely petrified. Unable to do anything, she kicks herself for leaving her shotgun behind. Now it was resting between the clawed paws of the demon who screeched in excitement as it prepared to pounce at her. Though honestly, with how rigid her body turned, she doubts she'd be able to aim, not to mention pulling the trigger.

This is it. She thinks, feeling blood leave her face. I'm gonna die. After all she's been through.. Killed by a single Goreclaw, ripped apart in a stinking sewer like an ungrateful little shite. Ulthane did so much to rescue her from the claws of that Fallen and now all his efforts are going to go to waste.. Crying out in dismay, she shields herself from the oncoming attack with her arms and shuts her eyes.

Something shifted behind her as the demon jumped at her and… nothing happened. Opening her eyes, horrified and shocked, Nicola almost gags when she sees the Goreclaw standing before her and just… gawking with its jaw slack as though it got hit on the head with something heavy. Faint golden light running around its body like tiny veins didn't escape her attention. That's when she noticed that the demon was trying to move, straining with its own stiff muscles and growling. But couldn't. It was completely paralyzed. A quiet, barely audible thrumming filled the air around Nicola and she began to feel something strange. Something she could only describe as magic. The arcane static began to nip and the bite at her skin like miniscule locusts when a green haze enveloped the Goreclaw before her. The same light fell onto her back, laying her quivering shadow out at her feet. A realisation hit her.

Raphael. He's still there.

After the apocalypse, Nicola had no delusions that angels, even the kindest ones, are ever defenseless. Before she could turn to face the angel, her would-be killer suddenly let out a soul-rending shriek that yet again almost made her drop dead or simply puke out of pure fear. Freed from the paralysis, it fell to the floor, writhing, clawing at its own chest and screeching the most ungodly noise Nicola had ever heard. What's happening?! Absolutely petrified, she watched as the demon's skin seemed to dry and wrinkle as its eyes were nearly popping out of its skull. Life - and color - was frighteningly quickly seeping out of the demon as it squirmed in agony, wailing, unable to fight the power that got a hold of it.

All this looked like taken straight out of a horror movie. And Nicola, on the contrary to Nicholas, was never a fan of those… It all took merely a few seconds of unimaginable torment before the unfortunate Goreclaw wheezed and eventually fell still with its jaws opened and tongue lolled out, wide eyes dull and unblinking, and didn't move ever again. Dead. The memory of all those corpses she has found passed through her head. The Goreclaw looked just like them… Afraid to move a muscle, she stared at the light that moved away from the dead demon, following its movement to the sight that made her back up aghast.

Raphael. The same seemingly gentle angel who healed a small, hurt animal - who healed her - was suspended in midair, tattered robes and disheveled hair billowing, with his wings flared and bristled. This soft smile was replaced by an absolute lack of any expression whatsoever as his wide eyes burned with the whitest white of unbridled anger she'd ever seen. Green streaks of magic - the same green she found so soothing before, now ominous and frightening - bathing the surroundings in brightness, were swirling around his arms, hands with fingers curled into vicious claws. For this moment he looked much stronger, a little younger… and far more dangerous than he seemed before.

"As long as I live.. I shall not stand suffering !"

Raphael bellowed at the corpse at her feet even though it was long dead and already turning cold, caring very little about how horrified she was. He didn't even seem to care how much suffering the demon had experienced before it blessedly lost its hold on life. Not that Nicola thought it didn't deserve that but still it was… pretty gruesome.. Raphael's wounded and weakened body absorbed the life-force drained from the demon and only then did he slowly descend onto the floor and landed on his feet, breathing out with relief. The magic gradually dissipated along with the sharp prickling sensation until only the tiny golden wisp hovering next to Raphael's head remained. His wings fell into their place against his back, this furious light faded out of his bright eyes before he turned to Nicola to shoot her a disarming, awkward smile as though nothing had happened at all. This tiny smile was hardly comforting.. Quite the opposite in fact. It chilled her to the bone like the coldest winter wind.

Oh fuck.

Swallowing thickly, Nicola looked up at Raphael, now standing on his own legs, clearly revitalized by the stolen energy, and felt a little fearful tear roll down her face. Then she shifted her gaze to the demon. Then back to Raphael, who seemed so small and weak before but stood at least two, maybe three feet taller than Nicola - her head reached the bottom of his sternum. I was wrong. She realises with a pang of panic, feeling a little sick in the stomach at the mere thought that this kind healer was as capable of killing her where she stood as any demon up above her head. All he had to do was flick his wrist and look at her and she wouldn't have been able to do a thing to defend herself. It suddenly made sense. There was no sewer monster down here. No beast that would threaten her. No foul creature that could suck the blood from her body and leave ber as a mummified corpse. All this death, all these bodies… The horrifying monster Nicola was expecting to find...

It was him.

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

So yeah. That was the chapter I. I'll try to make more but I don't promise anything XD

The moral of this story? Don't piss off/spook angel sorcerers. Especially the crazy ones.

Also, the art at the end was once again inspired by @coloredgravity 's rendition of Raphael (I drew this mostly out of memory 😂). In addition I gave him a symbol of virtue from Darkest Dungeon over his head. He's mad, true. But he still tries to hold it together :3

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 7: Hush, Hush, Hush •

    The children walk single file as they descended from the brush from where they had escaped, Eddie in the lead, Richie taking up the caboose. Y/n had helped Mike up the rocks, and shortly after found herself in the middle behind him. Mike cast a glance in her direction as well as the others.

    "Thanks, guys," He said, redirecting his gaze to the ground. "But you shouldn't have done that, they'll be after you too, now."

    Eddie was the first to chime in. "Oh, no, no, no, Bowers? He's always after us."

    "I guess that's one t-t-thing we all have in common," Bill added.

    "Yeah, homeschool!" Richie chirped. "Welcome to the Losers Club!"

    Y/n smiled at the boy's remark, shaking her head lightly. It was then that Y/n was reminded of the fleeting thoughts from the night before that bounced around her tired, foggy brain. And a familiar feeling bubbled back up to the surface along with it; a sense of belonging. Y/n did not have much luck when it came to getting close to people, aside from Beverly of course. Until that day at the quarry, she had never truly felt at home. And now that they had a new member - the last piece of the puzzle - she knew as long as she had them, she would be whole.

    In fact, they would never say it aloud, but each and every member of the Losers Club shared these same feelings. That day marked the beginning of a beautiful and powerful bond that would last a lifetime. Each and every one was just as important as the next and if you were to pluck any from the line, they would never quite be the same. Each of the eight children felt immediately at home with one another, a comfort so deep and profound it could quiet any lurking anxieties or fears.

    For a short while, no one said anything, just a peaceful ambiance blanketed the atmosphere as they descended the small hill of grass. Each of them could feel the tall green blades brush their legs, and the silence was filled with the low yet loud rumble of the train traveling along the tracks, yards behind them. When they reached the bottom of the small hill, Y/n  scurried up to the front and joined Eddie by his side. Everyone else disperses, scattering amongst one another, Ben silently taking the lead.

    "Hey Kaspbrak" Eddie looked to her, a little taken aback but attentive. "I'm counting on you,"

    Eddie blushed uncomfortably until he realized what she had been implying. She had been holding her left arm, just below the shoulder, and gestured to it with her eyes. She blushed herself and played it off with a weak laugh.

    "My arm?" She wiggled her eyebrows playfully. "If you anyone has a band-aid it's you."

    He laughed nervously as well, as he reached into one of his fanny packs, careful to watch his step as he was still walking. He pulled out a bandaid and handed it to her, she smiled in thanks. She wished she could have said she was surprised when he continued to pull supplies out one by one. And she'd be lying if she said she didn't find that a least a little impressive. It reminded her of clowns packed into a clown car. Ugh, she shivered slightly, bad analogy, nevermind.

    "Here you go. Also, here's some ointment, it's a special disinfectant - who the fuck knows all the germs that were on that rock, you'll need all the help you can get. I also have gauze, normally I don't carry gauze but since your leg is still pretty bad, I figured I should carry some, just in case. Here you take it, I think I have some more, also, I kept a small wrap of ace bandages, you really need to - wait you have been changing them frequently, right? You always, always change bandages, the bigger the wound the more important it is you change it. Seriously, this is really important because-!"

    "BEEP BEEP BEEEP!" Richie shouted suddenly, strolling up and walking between the pair. "Hear that sound, Doctor K? That's the sound of her flat-lining. You took too fucking long, genius, if you were a real doctor she would have bled out on your table already!"

    Y/n snickered under her breath, several of the Losers smiled as well. Eddie felt his face grow hot, and he turned angrily to Richie, his face contorted in an angry pout. He was struggling for words, but before he could form a proper sentence, Richie continued.

    "Quick tip, Doc, don't talk your patients to death!"

    Stan laughed dryly, "Yeah, you're one to talk."

    "Hey there, woah, woah, woah!" He threw his arms up in defense. "I'm just givin' the people what they want!"

    "Great!" Y/n said excitedly, her face lighting up briefly before falling. "How bout some silence? Beep beep, Richie."

    Mike, who had blended into the group so effortlessly and had been silently processing - still adjusting to the group dynamic - laughed suddenly and loudly. Everyone looked to him, taken slightly aback by his sudden, but infectious laugh. And it wasn't long until that laughter spread, everyone had cracked a smile and there was scattered laughter that melted away any previous tension.

    By now, Y/n had applied the ointment and the band-aid easily. She handed the tube of disinfectant back to Eddie as well as the gauze.

    "Thanks, but the band-aid will do just fine. Luckily, this one is only just a little cut."

    Eddie nearly tripped, he had been so lost in thought as he stared anxiously at the gauze outstretched in her hand. He licked his lips nervously, and his eyes flickered to hers. She noted his tentativeness and waited expectantly, but he could hold his tongue no longer, crush or not.

    "...Seriously, have you been changing those bandages, you never answered me and I'm sorry but that's disgusting if you haven't changed them cause the wound really needs to air out and if it doesn't you could end up-"

    "Christ, Eddie! I've changed them!" Y/n blurted, falling into a small fit of chuckles to show she wasn't truly mad.

    He tried to conceal his blush, but he played it off with a vigorous shake of the head and change of topic.

    "Hey, where are we going anyway? I can't be out too long or my mom will kill me. One time, I was like, two minutes late for curfew and she had a panic attack."

    Ben looked over his shoulder, he had taken the lead and while no one had mentioned it yet, everyone had instinctively followed him.

    "Well, I was hoping to show you guys something."

    Everyone gave one another an odd, questioning look but they followed Ben into the trees, nevertheless.

×××

    Night had fallen the day of the rock fight and another day began. The group of misfits had found themselves in town, where the annual parade was taking place. Wracked with guilt and the unpleasant feeling of being pitied, Y/n was trying to talk Eddie out of buying her the delicious frozen treat she had been ogling. Eddie had noticed the longing in her eyes when she spotted a young child with one of their own, and it was then that he really noticed the effects the sun had on her. Her baggy clothes were sticking to her arms and legs, and he could see beads of sweat percolating above her brow.

    Once again, their previous exchange on the fire escape popped into his head and he was reminded once more of how fortunate he was that he could afford such little things he took for granted. The power of suggestion had already gotten to him as well when he saw a frustrated father shoving an ice cream cone at his crying child, and although the sight made him cringe he couldn't quite shake the sudden craving of the sweet treat. Hence their detour to the ice cream cart, he could practically hear Richie ragging on him for getting her something with the audacity to leave him out - What, you skimping out on me now, Eds? - Eddie opted for a vanilla cone for Rich, just to be safe. But none of that stopped Y/n from protesting against it.

    "Eddie, you really don't have to do this,"

    The young L/n girl looked between the hypochondriac kid and the disgruntled teenager behind the cart, slinging ice cream. Ignoring her protests, he dropped the small pile of coins he had retrieved from his fanny pack onto the metal counter of the cart. The overheated employee slid it towards himself to the end of the counter, plucking the quarters from the surface and handed Eddie two vanilla cones. Eddie gladly took them in each napkin-clad hand - he had already grabbed several napkins so as to not spill or drip anything. Y/n watched defeated, albeit a bit excited, as the young man behind the counter opened another compartment and retrieved the y/f/f popsicle and handed it to her.

    She hesitantly took the popsicle, trying her best to mask the ravenous look in her eye.

    "Eddie-"

    "Look, it's best you have that anyway, it's supposed to get like, really hot out today so it's best you keep cool or you could be one step closer to heatstroke. And let me tell you, that is not fun, not fun at all! Did you know that-"

    A loud burst of noise disrupted their conversation and they turned to see the cause. Richie had gotten his hands on one of the marching bands instruments - a tuba by the looks, and sound of it. The owner of the tuba was angrily reaching for it but Richie managed to keep it out of his reach. His cheeks puffed and his face turned pink as a few short bursts of noise came from the instrument.

    Eddie and Y/n shared an amused look and Y/n's eyes fell to the popsicle. She sighed lightly, trying to tame the pit in her stomach that always occurred when she was pitied. Now Y/n appreciated the gesture, she really did. It was awfully sweet of the boy, and she would be lying if she said it didn't make her stomach do a small flip, but all that was easily drowned out by how small she felt. She hated being a charity case, it was bad enough Beverly had basically kept her fed all these years but Y/n reminded herself that their friendship was symbiotic - they each had something to offer the other. But this made her feel like she owed Eddie, and she didn't like that.

    The two left the cart and walked along the sidewalk at a steady pace. Nervously, she looked at the boy.

    "Eddie, I appreciate it, but I don't want to owe you or anything. I-"

    Eddie's face contorted into a confused frown. He chuckled weakly before taking a quick lick of his ice cream. He shook his head.

    "You don't owe me! It's just a popsicle, it's no big deal."

    Words failed her and she looked at the popsicle tentatively. Eddie noticed this and was scrambling to put out the small fire he had caused.

    "Think of it as a favor to me,"

    Y/n showed no efforts to hide her confusion. "A favor?"

    "Yeah, you stay cool, and I don't have to take care of you when you suffer from heatstroke."

    Her frown stayed cemented to her face as she stared at the boy, and Eddie feared his message was lost in translation. For fuck's sake, he didn't mean it like that! Great, now he sounded like a total ass.

    Y/n broke out into chuckles and Eddie felt the enormous weight leave his shoulders. He chuckled with her, though they came out more strained and nervous. She shook her head, eyebrows raised.

    "Man, you must care if you're willing to make up that load of horse shit." Y/n's tempted eye fell to the popsicle in her hand. "Thanks, shrimp, I appreciate it. But just this one time, okay? I always end up feeling like I owe people whenever they do stuff like this. Even if it's small things, cause a lot of stuff that might seem small to you, are kind of a big deal to me, does that make any sense?"

    Eddie nodded.

    "To tell you the truth, I've never tried one before."

    Eddie's eyes widened and he looked frantically between her and her dessert.

    "You gotta try it! They're really good!"

    Y/n smiled weakly.

    "Eddie, I mean it. Do you get what I'm saying?"

    Eddie nodded eagerly, his eyes frequently falling to the popsicle.

    "I get it, won't happen again. I promise. But seriously, you gotta try it! Really though, before it melts."

    Y/n examined the frozen y/f/f pop and noticed the ice was thinning. She shrugged at Eddie and tried the popsicle. Her eyes widened and she gaped at the boy.

    "Holy shit."

    Eddie grinned eagerly, and by now the two were approaching Richie.

    "Right?"

    "Dammit, Eddie! You really shouldn't have done this, I'm gonna want another one!" She whined, though her voice held a twinge of humor.

    She switched the popsicle to the other hand to lick the melted residue that had made it on her fingers. Eddie was quick to supply her with an extra napkin which she thanked him for.

    Eddie laughed at her words and he noticed he had caught Richie's eye. More specifically, the extra ice cream cone did. Richie abandoned the tuba and waltzed over to the boy, gladly accepting the treat and the trio found themselves joining the rest of the group just inside the alley. They were all somber, Y/n couldn't help but notice.

    "What's wrong?" She asked, drawing all eyes to her. "What are guys talking about?"

    "What they always talk about," Richie said simply.

    "I actually think it will end," Ben said, ignoring the interruption. "For a little while, at least."

    "What do you mean?" Mike asked.

    "So I was going over all my Derry research and I charted out all the big events. The Ironworks explosion in 1908, the Bradley Gang in '35, and the Black Spot in '62. And now kids being... I realized this stuff seems to happen-"

    "Every 27 years," Bill and Ben finished.

    Y/n looked up from her frozen pop and licked her lips, for some reason feeling silly for enjoying such a thing during this discussion. She found her stomach was twisted in knots, though at least, she thought, Eddie was right. She was feeling cooled down. But none of that seemed to matter now. Like it was all a matter of time before all of these fleeting feelings, these little moments, were being packed and stored away for a long time. It was a strange feeling that she couldn't quite identify, a feeling each of the Losers Club was experiencing: that while everyone around them was laughing and playing, enjoying the blissful moments of summer, they themselves each felt as if they were enjoying their last day on earth.

×××

    "So let me get this straight," Eddie began, fingers drumming nervously on his right knee. "It comes out from wherever to eat kids for, like, a year? And then what? It just goes into hibernation?"

    The Losers found themselves in the park, frozen treats long gone, the pits in their stomachs however still very much present. Bev, Stan, Mike, and Ben were splayed put on the bench, backs to the infamous statue of Paul Bunyan. Richie sat on his parked bike, unfortunate enough to be facing said statue - he never said it but the thing always creeped him out, just something about it. Bill and Eddie each found a seat of their own on the long back of Silver and Y/n laid in the grass before them in between the two bikes. She was propping herself up with her arms and legs splayed out before her. Her leg was healing fast but she didn't want to risk sitting on it and making it worse.

    So here the Losers sat, lost in discussion and despite the hot weather, there was a chill in the air that only these eight misfits could feel. Looming over them, watching them, much like It did their own town.

    "Maybe, it's like-- What do you call it?" Stan paused, searching for the word. "Cicadas. You know, the bug that only comes out once every seventeen years."

    "My grandfather thinks this town is cursed," Mike said. "He says that all the bad things that happen in this town are because of one thing. An evil thing that feeds off the people of Derry."

    An evil thing.

    The three words that lurked in the back of Y/n's mind all her life. She could feel herself falling back into the pit, the black hole that swallowed her up every time she thought of the looming threat. She could feel herself disconnecting from the world again, watching herself being ripped away from this moment in time and tossed back to that awful night, though she could still hear the worried voices of her friends speaking. Completely unaware of her state of mind. The words were fuzzy and distant, background noise as she felt herself being transported to that day.

    "I ain't got much time left, but at least I'm safer than you. I'm old, I've lived my life but you? Well, you're closer to death's door than I am."

    "But it can't be one thing. We all saw something different." Stan said, his voice now began to fade out.

     The voices were now blending together as memories of her past became her present reality.

    "Cause this town, I tell you, this town... There's an evil, evil thing in this world," the man said.

    She could hear her younger self whimper in fear, her own voice was squeaky and very frightened. The old voice continued, it shook with fear and the terror was as ripe as his memory, like only seconds had passed, not decades.

    "monsters are all too real my child, I've seen 'em with my own two eyes."

     Mike's voice found a way through her skull, echoing softly as all the details of the day she worked so hard to forget, came flooding back.

    "Maybe. Or maybe it knows what scares us most and that's what we see."

   "The Devil himself lives here, right here in this very shit hole and I've waited a very long time for this moment; to be free."

    There was a moment of tension-filled silence as the young h/c girl looked up at the slouching figure. The girl clutches her teddy bear tightly to her chest - the sad old thing nearly worn down to threads - tears pooling in her e/c eyes as she stares on in horror at the distant relative. Old and senile he was, why her mother brought her here she didn't know. Y/n would later figure out that it was a final visit of sorts. A last chance to meet some of her family. And while her mother stepped out of the room to retrieve a simple glass of water for the man, he turned unexpectedly to his grandniece and imparted the words she would never forget.

    "He's in your closet, under your bed. He's everywhere, always, watchin' you. Waiting for the right moment to snatch you up. And he will get you. He always gets you... he got her, I told her not to go, but she was adventurous you see, much like you kids are these days, and mother didn't like that and she always told us; 'you mind yourself or I'll tell him. I'll tell him...'"

    The old man's glossy eyes drifted away, his voice trailing as he was lost in the memory; reliving it all over again.

    "Tell who? Who is he?" The young girl asked tearfully?"

    He broke from his trance and he looked at her with cold and fearful eyes.

    "The Boogeyman." Y/n croaked, breaking from her stupor.

    The Losers all looked to their friend in the grass. The color was drained from her [s/c] skin, and her eyes were distant and glassy. Her left leg had inched gradually up and was now clutched tightly against her chest protectively. Seven pairs of eyes were now fixed on her and she gulped.

    "My great uncle Henry, I only met him once when I was about five or six, but he- he told me about how he saw the Boogeyman. Not much else, but the way he described It... I don't know, it always stuck with me. I've been afraid of It ever since and then-" Her eyes met Beverly's and she knew she had connected the dots.

    "Your ankle." She finished.

    Y/n nodded. She shifted in the grass uncomfortably before looking around at her friends. Some of them confused, others connecting dots of their own, but still intrigued and listening.

    "When school got out, Bev slept over." Y/n began, filling in Mike especially. "We both fell asleep with the TV on, it woke me up so I got up to turn it off, and then, just as I started to drift off I felt Bev pull on my leg several times. But, I woke up and realized she was fast asleep."

    She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the nerves that came crawling back even now. She fixed her eyes on the grass below her, and her fingers worked themselves into the ground. Y/n began fiddling with eh blades of grass, twirling them and ripping some from the ground as she continued.

    "Next thing I know, It's pulling me across the carpet and my leg is torn to shreds. It looked like what I always imagined the Boogeyman to be, but... but it also looked like-"

    "A clown."

    She had to turn her body slightly to look at Eddie, but she nodded, confirming everyone's suspicions from the day before.

    "Yeah, I saw a clown too. But It was also a leper." Eddie saw the confused looks scattered across his friends. "He was like a walking infection."

    Eddie felt himself fighting his bodily instincts to vomit, still repulsed by the vivid memory. Stan, who had been squirming in his seat the entire exchange, fought desperately to deny the gory truth that lay before them. Trying to convince everyone, himself especially, that this thing couldn't exist. Cause if It did, it would be all too terrible.

    "But you didn't," his voice trembled. "Because It isn't real. None of this is. Not Eddie's leper. Or Bill seeing Georgie, or-or woman I keep seeing." His voice broke, he looked down at his feet and the others knew.

    He was trying to convince himself.

    "She hot?" Richie asked with a half-smirk.

    Stan gave Richie an incredulous look, and his voice rose.

    "No Richie! She's not hot! Her face is all messed up. None of this makes any sense. They're all like bad dreams."

    Mike spoke up, unable to tiptoe around him any longer.

    "I don't think so. I know the difference between a bad dream, and real life, okay? Besides, look at Y/n's leg! How do you explain that?"

    Y/n gave Mike a thankful nod, and Eddie asked the question she had at the end of her tongue.

    "What'd you see? You saw something, too?"

    "Yes," Mike answered somberly, and he took a deep breath. "Do you guys know that burned-down house on Harris Avenue?"

    Y/n nodded, encouraging Mike to continue.

    "I was inside when it burned down." Mike began fiddling with his hands nervously, and Bill could feel his heartache. "Before I was rescued, my mom and dad were trapped in the next room over from me. They were... pushing and pounding on the door, trying to get to me."

    Mike's voice broke and he fought hard against the tears that threatened to spill. His heart was breaking in two all over again, he rarely spoke of the incident, always much too saddened by it and each time he did he could hear their frightened screams and the scratches against the door.

    "trying to get to me." There was a pause, and Mike swallowed the swollen lump in his throat. "But it was too hot. When the firemen finally found them, the skin on their hands had melted down to the bone."

    "Mike," Y/n felt at a loss for words, but all she could manage was a simple few. "I'm so sorry."

    He shrugged, and everyone could tell he was already beginning to rebury the memory.

    "We're all afraid of something."

    "You got that right." Richie quipped.

    Everyone looked to the boy and Y/n asked gently.

    "What about you, Rich? What are you afraid of?"

    His eyes flickered to Eddie against his will, and he ignored the spike in his heart rate when he did so. Everyone was staring at him now and he gulped, looking over his shoulder to see a clown on the stage across the field, staring at him. He returned his gaze to the group, and swallowed nervously, adjusting his bulky glasses.

    "Clowns."

×××

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