#-> the reason Hiccup and his friends are the only teens we see is that Hiccup & co. never bother to talk to the other teens

[shadowtriovibes]

as our lives change, come whatever

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Word Count: 2.4k

Rating: E

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, teen drinking (though probably legal in the UK idk), explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV sex

Summary: The night you graduate from Hogwarts, you indulge in a bit too much Firewhiskey and have to sleep it off upstairs at the Three Broomsticks.

“Come on, Sirona, please,” Sebastian whines, leaning on the worn edge of the bar as he tries to charm Sirona into giving him the key to the private room upstairs. “Just so we can rest for a while.” “Sebastian,” the weary proprietor sighs. “Unlike you, I may not have graduated today, but I wasn’t born yesterday." “What are you implying, Miss Ryan?” the now former Hogwarts student asks with a teasing grin. “I would never try to get up to anything untoward in your pub, I swear.”

“Come on, Sirona, please,” Sebastian whines, leaning on the worn edge of the bar as he tries to charm Sirona into giving him the key to the private room upstairs. “Just so we can rest for a while.”

“Sebastian,” the weary proprietor sighs. “Unlike you, I may not have graduated today, but I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“What are you implying, Miss Ryan?” the now former Hogwarts student asks with a teasing grin. “I would never try to get up to anything untoward in your pub, I swear.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes at the young man while she dries an empty Butterbeer mug.

“Just look at the state of her,” Sebastian offers, glancing sidelong at his group of friends crowded around a far table. “I just need somewhere she can rest, I promise it’s all above board.”

Currently, you’re slumped haphazardly between Ominis and Natty, your head resting on the drowsy Slytherin man’s shoulder as you slur something about your formal robes cutting off the circulation in your wrists. Natty laces her fingers with yours and tugs your hand into her lap, clumsily ripping open the cuffs while you laugh, delighted.

“Seems she can take on a fully-grown mountain troll on her own, but she can’t handle her Firewhiskey,” Sirona deduces.

“I can’t Apparate her home like this, Merlin knows where she’d end up if we tried to Floo, and she’d fall right off her broom somewhere over Irondale if we even got that far,” he says, trying to reason with her. “Just until sunrise, and then I’ll take her home.”

Just then you hiccup and startle Natty and yourself into another round of giggles, and Sirona shakes her head good-naturedly.

“Merlin’s beard,” she sighs. “Fine, Sallow, you can have the key for one night. But when I come back to open up in the morning, I want to see no trace I ever caved to you.”

Sebastian quickly takes the key offered to him before she can change her mind. “This is why you’re one of the good ones, Sirona.”

Just a few hours ago, you and your friends had officially graduated and become mature witches and wizards in the eyes of the Ministry. While it isn’t the first time you’ve ever tried the spicy sweetness of Firewhiskey, it is the first time you’ve been able to purchase a bottle at the Three Broomsticks.

(It’s a lot more convenient than having sweet Poppy distract the disgruntled barman at the Hog’s Head in order to pilfer a bottle in exchange for a handful of galleons left behind the bar).

So, perhaps you’d all had a bit too much while celebrating your newfound freedom, and now that the end of the night drew near, only Sebastian had retained enough of his sense to see everyone off.

“Natty,” he asks, sliding back into the booth. “You’re off to Hogwarts for the night, then?”

“It seems I cannot escape,” she laughs. “I will stay with my mother in her quarters until I find a flat in London.”

“Our newest Auror!” you exclaim, tugging Natty’s arm to your chest.

“And you, Ominis?” Sebastian continues.

“Not with my mother, that’s for sure,” he demurs. “Off to Feldcroft for the night, I think.”

“With Aaaaaaann,” you coo, and Sebastian politely – generously, in fact – ignores how Ominis’ cheeks go red.

“Right then,” he grumbles. “Obviously this one is in no state to travel, so Sirona’s agreed to let us stay upstairs for the night.”

“Upstairs?” you breathe, reaching across Natty to take Sebastian’s hand. “The private room?”

“Be good,” he says firmly. “You’re just going to sleep.”

“Fat chance,” Ominis mumbles into his mug.

“Shouldn’t you be going?” Sebastian asks pointedly, throwing some extra galleons onto the table for the young wizard who’d been bringing them rounds of drinks. “It’s quite late, and I believe Ann was expecting you at ten.”

“...What time is it?” Ominis asks, sounding slightly panicked – the Sallow siblings aren’t exactly known for their patience.

“After ten,” Natty laughs.

Just like that, Ominis curses under his breath and Disapparates right from his seat.

“Need a hand getting her upstairs?” Natty offers, but Sebastian quickly waves her off, insisting she Floo home and get some rest herself. As soon as she disappears in a quick burst of green flames from the fireplace at the end of the pub, Sebastian hauls you out of the booth and starts to walk you upstairs.

“S’not even that late,” you whine. “We graduated today Seb, s’a big deal!”

“I know, love,” he replies fondly. “But I think it’s time for you to call it a night.”

You’re quite the handful to get upstairs, occasionally tripping on the pub’s ancient wooden stairs – not to mention protesting the entire time.

Once Sebastian manages to get you into the private room, he quickly locks the door and enchants the small loveseat along the far wall into a modest-sized bed for the night.

“Sit,” he insists, wrangling you toward the bed and kneeling in front of you. “Boots off.”

He barely gets one of your shoes free before you drape your leg over his shoulder with a sly grin, trying to pull him in closer.

“Not a chance, dearest,” he drawls. “You’ve had so much Firewhiskey tonight I could light a match off of your breath.”

“But it’s graduation night,” you protest. “S’the most important night of our lives!”

“I’m not sure I agree,” he counters as he tugs off your other boot, thinking of a much more special night he’d like to have with you a few more years down the line, when you’re both ready. Once you’ve established yourselves, he thinks.

(Once he’s earned it, his inner voice tells him.)

“But I want you,” you whine, trying one last time to coax him into trouble.

And Sebastian will admit, he’s far from a perfect man. It’s certainly tempting.

But he manages to make himself focus on helping you out of your cloak and robes, and thank Merlin that wrestling you free of your corset takes long enough that your eyelids start to droop. He nudges you onto your side while he strips off his own cloak and dress shirt, eventually joining you to wrap his arm around your waist and tug you back against his chest like he’s done nearly every night for the past year.

“Sleep, you little minx,” he groans tiredly, his nose buried in your hair.

—

In the morning, Sebastian wakes up to your hand down the front of his trousers.

It might not even be morning yet, he thinks blearily. It’s still somewhat dark in the small private room, its sparse furnishings barely visible in the weak light from the two windows high above him.

“Good morning, Seb,” you whisper, nosing along his neck before pressing a lingering kiss to the hinge of his jaw.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” he asks, his voice hoarse from sleep.

“It’s early, Sirona won’t come to kick us out for another hour or so,” you offer.

Sebastian realizes you’ve got your hand wrapped around his cock only when you start to stroke him, and any argument he’d had against letting you have your way with him starts to go murky in the back of his mind.

“Are you still drunk?” he asks, his head tipping back against the pillow.

“No,” you insist, mouthing at his jawline. “Promise.”

You’ve already thrown one of your legs across his lap and you’re wearing nothing but your undergarments. Sebastian doesn’t stand a chance, and he knows it.

He groans softly as you kiss your way from his jaw up to his plush lips, distracting him while you clumsily tug your underwear off with your free hand and wiggle your way fully onto his lap.

“How long have you been up?” he asks.

“Oh, just a little longer than you’ve been up,” you answer, pointedly stroking him again.

“I had no idea you could be so crude,” Sebastian laughs. “What happened to my good little witch, hm?”

“She’s not a student anymore,” you answer, extracting your hand so you can finish undoing the front of Sebastian’s trousers.

Leaning back onto his thighs, you pull his trousers down as far as you can and then his underwear as well, until his bare cock rests against the lowest part of his stomach, glistening wet at the tip.

“Like this?” he asks hopefully, sliding a hand up your bare thigh to your hip to coax you forward again.

“Yes,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss him gently at first, and then rougher when his grip on your hip tightens to encourage you to grind your wet core against him.

When you can’t take the teasing anymore, you quickly sit up and lift your hips so you can reach between your thighs and take Sebastian in your hand. Holding his cock steady, you meet Sebastian’s gaze as you line him up against your entrance and start to sink down.

He’s stunned silent – a rare occasion.

Truthfully, you’ve been ready for him since you awoke, but a bit of teasing from your own fingers while he slept helped make sure you could take him straight away. You didn’t want to waste any of your precious time in the pub’s private room on anything other than having him inside you.

You gasp softly once he’s fully inside, your ass pressed to the tops of his thighs as his hands roam hungrily over your hips, your legs, and even your chest.

“You really needed it, didn’t you?” Sebastian asks, his voice still a bit hoarse. “You woke up this wet for me, love, that’s… fuck.”

“Yes,” you whimper, starting to rock up and down to let yourself feel the fullness of him inside before you start to ride him in earnest. “It’s all I wanted, all night.”

“Take it, then,” he says smugly, removing his hands from your body to fold his arms behind his head. “I want to see you take what you want.”

You both know your relationship thrives on a bit of healthy competition, it always has. So when he issues a challenge like that, you have to meet it. Narrowing your eyes at his knowing gaze, you trail your own hands up your body – he likes a bit of a show, of course – and start to ride him properly.

Despite the usual hustle and bustle of Hogsmeade, it’s silent in the early morning hours. All you can hear are the sounds coming from the bed: your panting breaths, Sebastian’s low groans, the addictive sound of bare skin on skin, and the dubious creaking of the conjured bed’s wooden frame.

“How’s that, love?” Sebastian asks lazily, watching you throw your head back in pleasure as you grind down on him over and over. “Is that enough for you, or do you need more?”

“More,” you slur without even thinking. Whatever he wants to give you, you’ll take it, no questions asked.

He laughs softly before reaching out to press one of his large hands to the crease of your hip, rubbing his thumb gently against your clit. When you moan encouragingly, he presses a little harder.

“Like that?” he asks. “You want to come on my cock like this?”

“Please,” you beg, and you’re not even sure what it is you’re begging for. You’re full of him, you’ve got his hands on your body, you’ve got his fiery gaze all over you… it’s nearly too much, but not quite enough.

But Sebastian knows. He always knows just what you need.

He sinks the fingers of his free hand into your hair at the base of your neck and pulls you down to him, messily kissing you and nipping at your bottom lip until you open up and let him devour your desperate moans. This angle, bent over his body like this, it’s exactly what you need.

Sebastian grins victoriously as you come apart on top of him, biting gently along your neck when you throw your head back and cry out helplessly.

“That’s it, good girl,” he moans, wrapping an arm around your waist so he can keep you pressed close to him.

He shifts you forward so that he can plant his feet on the bed, fucking up into you the second your leverage is gone. You figure he’s probably close, he’s usually desperate to follow you once he’s gotten you off.

“Sebastian,” you whine against his cheek. “Please.”

“Please what?” he grits out, the arm around your waist drifting lower to roughly grab at your ass. “You need more, you greedy thing?”

“Please, come in me,” you keen, and Sebastian nearly chokes.

He manages a few more precise thrusts before his rhythm is gone and he simply buries himself in you, his core taught while he finishes with a low groan. You press sweet, aimless kisses across his cheeks, his forehead, his jaw until he goes boneless.

“That’s a hell of a good morning,” he breathes, and you blush a little, tucking your face against his neck. “Maybe I should let the barman overserve you more often.”

“Overserve me?” you protest. “And just who was pouring all those shots, hm?”

“Couldn’t possibly have been me, I’m quite responsible,” he drawls, and you playfully elbow him in the side. “Speaking of which, you need to eat some breakfast soon or you’ll be useless the entire day, and last night you offered to help Natty look at flats this afternoon.”

“I did?” you groan.

“Well, I figured while we’re with her, maybe we could see if there’s any we like for us,” Sebastian says hesitantly. “I mean, if – if you still want to.”

When you delightedly throw your arms around him and roll him toward the clean side of the bed, he assumes that it’s still a yes.

—

Sirona cautiously steps into her pub an hour later, listening intently for any sounds of passion lest she become further scarred by Hogwarts’ hormonal teens than she already has been over the years.

Thankfully, the Three Broomsticks is quiet, and there’s a note on the bar next to a fresh bottle of ink from Scrivenshaft’s.

Sirona,

Thank you so much for letting Sebastian and me sleep upstairs last night. We’re taking off for now, but I wanted to gift you some new ink so that you’ll write to us in London – any exciting gossip is of course appreciated, but if there’s ever anything we can do to help out in Hogsmeade, please don’t hesitate to write.

P.S. Apologies about the loveseat. I promise we used Scourgify.

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

July Break Bingo, 6.

Let's Make A Horror Movie!

Summary: July Break Bingo 2024.

Set in a Modern AU. One lazy day, the twins approach their friends with a suggestion.

Warnings: /

Rating: Teen and Up

Dead Dove: No

Words: 782

Prompt: Hardcore

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Characters: Hiccup, Astrid, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Fishlegs, Snotlout, Heather, Dagur

Pairing: Hiccstrid

Author’s Notes: This was a fun little thing to write. Once thought of turning this into a short fic with multiple chapters, but I ran out of time with the JBB challenge.

Enjoy!

-XOXOX-

“We’re going to make a hardcore horror movie!” Hiccup and his friends all gathered at Hiccstrid’s house and that’s what Tuffnut blurts out just as the previous conversation died down. What was it about? Well, no one can remember, not after that news.

“Ah, you what?” Hiccup asks, perplexed.

“No, notus, we!” Ruffnut emphasizes, her arms wide to gesture at the entire group she sees before her. It’s not just the twins who will be making this horror movie, but all of them.

Everyone sits outside by the pool. One would think that owning a home with three bedrooms and a pool would be super expensive, especially in this economy. But on the island of Berk, housing prices are still reasonable. Not that Hiccup coming from probably the richest family here doesn’t help.

“And why would we help you out?” Snotlout asks, dressed in speedos. He lifts his sunglasses to take a look at the twins with his signature judgmental look.

They’re all dressed in some type of swimwear. Two pieces, one pieces, speedoes or trunks. All but Hiccup and Fishlegs, who are both wearing a shirt because of different flavors of insecurities.

“Uh, because it’s an awesome idea and we should all totally join in! We already got a storyline!” Tuffnut states, feeling around for the notebook he and his sister have been writing in for the past couple of days. Briefly, he forgot he doesn’t have it on him because he left it in his jeans.

“Look at us and tell me we aren’t the perfect people to make one,” Ruffnut crosses her arms in a brief moment of smugness as she bathes in the genius of their idea.

Then she turns her attention to the rest. “Snotlout? Total jock!”

“Psh, Snotlout? Really?” Dagur asks incredulously. He feels like he would make a much better fit for that role.

“Heather? Look at her hair!” Immediately, there’s a storm brewing in Heather’s eyes. “Give her some ghostly makeup, make her peek around a corner, pull her hair in front of her face and you have the perfect ghost woman. Drenched catlady if we throw a bucket of water on her!”

Heather crosses her arms, not sure if she’s more offended or more flattered. She has a good singing voice and she can play a couple of instruments, why can’t she just slap some music together for their movie idea instead?

“Fishlegs has the perfect build to be a knife or chainsaw wielding maniac from the 80s!”

“Hey, that’s not true!” Fishlegs protests. He could never be a maniac who wields weapons of any kind.

“Ruffnut and I are obviously the producers and the writers and… You know,” Tuffnut takes over from his sister.

“And what about me?” Hiccup asks, perhaps feeling a little bit left out. He likes horror on occasion, mostly in the months from September to November, dubbed the “spooky months” by their group. One of his favorites include “The Thing,” even though he’s quite squeamish. He’s a fan of practical effects.

“Our creative team, duh!” Ah yes, the creative team composed of only one person. “We’re going to need practical effects and you always nail your Dreadfall costumes!”

That he does indeed! Last year, he decided to go with a classic; the zombie. Together with his artistry and after raiding the local art store, he put together something that looked life-like. The year before that, it was the legendary Lycanwing and it was a group costume then.

“Besides, you’re tall, skinny and freakishly flexible, you would be amazing as the monster!” It’s Ruffnut’s turn to continue. Provided he get some acting lessons, of course.

“You’re not seriously considering this, are you?” Astrid asks, recognizing that glint in his eyes. They’re both sitting on the same plastic lounge chair. Hiccup looks back at her, taking a sip from his soda can with a straw. He just likes the challenge, that’s all.

Oh, and dressing up, of course.

“Can I ask Toothless to join us?” Hiccup asks, wondering in his dragon’s stead.

“Hiccup!”

“Astrid? Total final girl!” And as suddenly as those words roll off Ruffnut’s tongue, she’s not so opposed to the idea anymore.

“I think you would make a great monster, Babe,” she tells her fiancé who laughs at her change of heart.

“So do you guys actually have an idea already?” Snotlout asks, splayed out on the floor next to the floor. It’s warmed by the sun. “Cause you’re just kinda throwing several different ideas into the group.”

“That’s because we have several different ideas, Snotman!”

“Several different great ideas!”

Several different great ideas indeed! And their friends will hear each and every one of them.

[reviewinghiccup]

RIDERS OF BERK | HTTYD SERIES | BREAKING DOWN HICCUP & FRIENDS

Blog Post Series: Breaking Down Hiccup & Friends

Title: Gem of a Different Color

Ep/Season: Episode 18, Season 1 (Riders of Berk)

Premise:

It is believed that our gentle giant, Fishleg, found a stone of good fortune. However, it is discovered, shortly after that it isn't a stone of good fortune at all, but a changewing egg! However, not to worry, after all, Fishleg was the only one w the egg and can easily put it back in its nest and rectify the whole misunderstanding... or is he?

CHARACTER BREAKDOWN

FISHLEGS JUSTIN INGERMAN

This is a Fishlegs story. We got a few for Astrid, a couple for Snotlout, one for the twins and now we have Fishlegs'. As such, this episode focuses a lot on his fears, concerns and passion.

"Vikings are strong, tough and courageous. Courage is a funny thing. Many are born with it. For some its a never ending struggle. For others, well... they just don't know enough to be afraid," Hiccup narrates at the opening of the episode which panes out to a one-on-one combat in the arena.

The Viking teens have to learn to fight without their dragons. So Gobber pairs them. Unfortunately for our Hiccup, he got...

And well...

I would say, Astrid and Snotlout were born courageous. The twins fall into the latter category of not knowing enough to be afraid. And Hiccup and Fishlegs well, they just have to work that bit harder to find courage within themselves.

Personally I see Fishlegs (and I'm using this term lightly) as a pacifist. He doesn't really engage in fights / battles / conflicts / confrontations unless he absolutely has to. He's not completely a pacifist because he will "annihilate" when dragons/innocent people are at stake.

He claimed that he doesn't want to fight Snotlout, because he doesn't want to encourage Snotlout's tendencies.

At first I wasn't convinced that, that was his reason. I did think maybe Fishlegs was scared. But actually, maybe Fishlegs knows deep down he has a lot of pent up strength and power, and he just doesn't want to tap into that. I mean, do y'all know Thor Bonecrusher? Hypnotised or not, it was drawn from something within him, so. I'm just saying maybe.

Whatever the case may be though, he is an absolute sweetheart and people like that are easy to bully. And often, mistaken as weak.

And what I do appreciate, is Astrid's instincts to defend him against Snotlout when Snotlout goes overboard.

The problem though w people like this, is two fold; (1) they blame themselves easily, and (2) they may snap.

(1) THE BLAME GAME

You see it with Hiccup as well. He often feels bad for things he can't control or didn't foresee. He's not superhuman and so mistakes should be understandable but with so many people depending on him, he almost always feels like he should know what the right thing is to do 24/7.

Fishlegs is no exception. How was he to know that Meatlug dug up a Changewing egg. He hasn't seen an adult Changewing before, how was he to know. Yet he constantly beats himself up for it because he feels responsible as the "all knowing dragon expert" and Hiccup, understanding where he's coming from tries to appease that guilt.

(2) DON'T MESS WITH THE DRAGONS

What I do appreciate about the show though, is that Fishleg does eventually stand up for himself. A person may snap, but for the wrong reasons and create even more problems. But no, when Fishlegs finally takes a stand, he did it right.

I mean, Snotlout pushed it way too far and it was time someone showed Snotlout that he isn't the only strong teen viking around.

This just goes to show that within, Fishlegs is a very tough person but he choose where his strength will be utilised. And seeing that he was done with Snotlout's deception and games, he finally gave him a taste of his own medicine.

THEME & MESSAGE

I know that this feels more like a Breaking Down Fishlegs than a Hiccup segment, and I'm sorry, but I couldn't help it. The episode was predominantly on him. And in essence, Hiccup can't really do without Fishlegs. I mean, Astrid is great, but sometimes, she lacks empathy and her dragon knowledge isn't as up to scratch as Ingerman's.

Together, they collate and document the study of dragons, improving, amending and adding to Bork the Bold's work.

They remind me a lot of the modern version of Stoick and Gobber sometimes. Fashioned in a different time and clime. Which is necessary for Berk's survival because the village is growing into a different landscape.

Furthermore, that's how societies grow. Through the appreciation and desire to learn about our universe, adding to creations, innovations and technologies.

I think the creators of the show aptly named this episode "Gem of A Different Colour" because Fishlegs, though Viking like, isn't very viking in personality.

He is different, but what makes him different is also what makes him important. He contributes to the synergy and grounding of the team. Making sure that they don't go too ahead of themselves or slack too far behind in terms of dragon training or knowledge.

After all, I believe that the key to training dragons requires a mastery of its knowledge. And frankly, there would be no dragon academy without him and his enthusiasm and love for these creatures.

I love the message behind the episode. It was more than just doing the right thing and standing up for what you believe in. It is about fearlessness and that it doesn't always have to look a certain way. It can come in many different shapes and sizes. And despite being the resident scaredy cat (sometimes), Fishlegs does prove himself the bravest and selfless in this episode.

Lastly, whatever the case may be, I'm glad that he showed up and decided to take Snotlout on in combat at the end. He's a good soldier and we can't have him slagging behind his training.

He may be a little insecure about his person, I mean, that happens to the best of us sometimes. And it's possible that the solution to getting out of your head, is to step out of your comfort zone.

"Having courage isn't the same as having no fear. It's being afraid and pushing forward anyway. Whether that means saving a baby dragon, or protecting those you love, or giving a special someone the butt-kicking they so richly deserve." - Hiccup's epilogue.

END NOTE:

There are many dragon species I've come to love as I go through the seasons. The Changewings are one of them. They're amazing creatures and I love to see them blend into environments. I would never want to meet one, but gosh, even their eggs are unique.

What are some of your favourite dragons introduced in the franchise that isn't a Night Fury, Deadly Nadder, Gronkle, Monstrous Nightmare or Zippleback?

[empressofthesunwriter]

To Belong

She was the weird foreign girl, he was the most useless Viking in the history of Berk. Together they were just Leandra and Hiccup. Two best friends who searched for their place in the world. Would their search for it unite or separate them?

I counted the votes on fanfiction.net and Quotev and we have a clear winner. Sides that allow pictures can already see Leandra’s dragon beside Toothless, the other one, well read the story. :D

Chapter 3

Leandra was glad that Gothi stepped out to watch the progress of the Dragon Training. She had stayed up late to make various ointments for the Night Furry and got so little sleep.

The black-haired girl was taking a cat nap on the mat where normal Gothi’s patients lay.

Was it wise?

Absolute not.

But the Spanish girl swore she would die if she didn’t catch some snooze. The whole morning had been hard on her and Gothi even more.

It was like the old Viking woman knew she hadn’t slept much and was making her work and learn more.

Her brain was not there today.

She really, really hoped that one of the ointments for the Night Furry would help him.

A sign left her mouth and she rolled herself to the side.

Leandra was asking herself how Hiccup was doing in Dragon Training. Being together with teens who didn’t like him and with his weird crush, was hard, she imagined. Well, besides the murders dragons who wanted to kill you.

Yeah, Leandra found Hiccup’s crush on Astrid freacking weird. The girl didn’t give him the time of day, never talked or interacted with him, and yet Hiccup crushed on her hard.

Just because she was the perfect Viking girl?

It was a weak reason.

On the other hand, the only other girl was Ruffnut and she was crazy.

No wonder Hiccup liked Astrid.

It’s not like he had many choices.

What about you?, whisper a voice in her head, that Leandra always ignored.

No, she wouldn’t think about this possibility.

She and Hiccup were fine the way they were.

Best friends forerver.

However, it still stung a bit that Hiccup didn’t seem to see her like a girl.

No one of their age rages did.

Not that Leandra wanted any of the Viking boys.

It just…would be nice to feel wanted sometime. Astrid didn’t need to do anything and anybody was armored with her.

Leandra was not vain, but she knew she was a pretty girl.

Her hair was strong, wavy, and black like the night, and she had big, pretty brown eyes and a healthy tan. She had a curvy body and probably the biggest breast size, for her age.

Her papi always told her she comes after her late mother, who had been the village beauty, with suitors left and right.

On the other hand here in Berk, they were other beauty standards.

And Astrid was all of them and she was the exact opposite of it.

Maybe that’s why no one found her attractive.

Again, not that she wanted any of the Viking boys, it just got on her nerves that even Hiccup, who know her like the back of his hand, never seemed to see her as a girl.

And no, that didn’t mean she wanted something from him.

No, no, no!

She didn’t want to lose his friendship, just for the tiny possibility of being more.

Friendship was more important than love.

Besides if she ever got the chance Leandra would return to Spain to her Abuela. Her dad could stay here on this miserable rock with his new Viking family, and she would get back home, where it was warm, colorful, and full of life.

She only would miss Hiccup and be in a relationship with him would be even worse if she would go back to Spain.

He could come with us, it’s not like he would be missed here, again this voice in her head whispered.

Angry she opened her eyes and sat up.

Leandra could never take a nap like this.

What was wrong with her brain today?

That’s what she gets if she doesn’t sleep her eight hours. This should be a lesson for her.

Grumbling she decides to make some more ointments.

This would keep her thoughts in check.

Today Gothi let her go home earlier.

This was good.

So she could join Hiccup and the Night Furry in the cove and her parents would think she was still with Gothi.

As she enters the cove, Leandra has to put a hand on her mouth to not let out the gasp she was about to make.

The scene before her.

She feels she can’t interrupt it.

It’s between Hiccup and the Night Furry.

They're face to face and Hiccup slowly extends his hand. The dragon growls at the hand, he isn’t ready to let Hiccup touch him.

That’s when her best friend turns his head away with closed eyes and again holds out his hand to the Night Furry.

Leandra’s heart beat fast in her chest.

Hiccup is showing the Night Furry a lot of trust. What had happened between the two that he risk getting his hand eaten by the dragon?

Yet, nothing like this happens.

The dragon bridges the gap and presses his muzzle against Hiccup's hand.

They stay for two heartbeats like this.

The black-haired girl has the feeling that the whole world turned upside down.

A dragon and a Human….touching each other in a nonviolent way.

Showing each other trust and understanding.

Leandra feels tears in her eyes.

It touches her heart in a yearning way. She wishes she would find a connection like this.

Then the Night Furry stops gives a little snort and flies to the other side of the cove, leaving an amazed Hiccup behind.

“Hiccup.”, she calls out softly to him. The moment is over, but she would feel bad talking louder. It wouldn’t fit now.

Thank god, Hiccup hears her.

“Leandra.”

“So you made friends with the Night Furry?”

Hiccup turns a moment in the direction of the dragon.

“Yeah, I made friends with Toothless.”

Toothless why Toothless?

She asks him this and he waves her over to him. Hiccup tells her what he experienced today with Toothless and wow, Leandra is just speechless.

Who would have thought that a dragon could be this sensitive and intelligent?

How she wished she could have seen it, but something in her tells her that it was good that it was only between Hiccup and Toothless.

They seem to share a connection with each other.

The two best friends sit on a log together and watch how the sun slowly goes down.

“I need to be home.”, signs Leandra sad.

“I need to meet up with the Gobber and the other recruits. We are eating together.”, he signs too.

The girl opens her pouch and shows Hiccup the ointments she made.

“Do you think you could get to Toothless and we can try out one of these for his wound?”, she wonders.

“We could try but I don’t know-“

The boy gets interrupted by a familiar screech.

But it can be!

The only Night Furry here is Toothless!

Who is suddenly staring at the sky and jumping up and down happily.

Hiccup and Leandra look in the direction where Toothless looks. Both want to pinch themselves when they see what got the dragon so excited.

It’s another Night Furry!

A Night Furry, who is fast closing in on the cove and lands gracefully before Toothless.

Both dragons cooed, snuggled their muzzles together, and lick each other.

Leandra and Hiccup’s chins meet the floor.

The Spanish girl grips Hiccup’s shoulder and shakes him.

“Hiccup! Hiccup! There is another Night Fury! Oh my lord, what?!”

“That Night Furry is a bit smaller than Toothless.”, analyzes the boy fascinated. “But the wings and the tailfin are bigger. I think it has brownish-golden eyes. It’s also a lot darker than Toothless, wow.”

Seeing how the two dragons do practically the equivalent of kisses for humans Leandra adds: “I think, that’s Toothless mate. He or she must have been worried sick for him. I’m glad they found each other.”

“He or she?”

“We don’t judge, Hiccup. Love is Love. End of story.”

It’s then that the other Night Furry sees the two human teenagers and stands protectively before Toothless. It growls at them threatening, but before anything happens Toothless purrs at his mate and it seems to calm it down.

Now it looks with big brownish-golden eyes curious at Leandra and Hiccup.

“Okay, I totally believe that these two are mates.”, agrees Hiccup.

They do act like a couple. That’s something new to learn about Night Furries too.

Meanwhile, Leandra’s eyes are transfixed, at the beautiful eyes of Toothless mate. They are like molted gold.

She never saw eyes like this.

The Night Furry stares at her in the same intense way.

Something deep and profound is exchanged.

Leandra can’t explain it.

It’s like she found a missing part of her soul.

A soul who reflects her own.

Like bewitched she walks closer to the Night Furries.

“Lee?”, calls Hiccup confused to her, but is ignored.

Toothless also grumbles questions to his mate, who is walking up to the human female and gets ignored too.

The girl and the dragon stop a meter from each other. Still looking into the other eyes. Leandra titles her head and the Night Furry copies her. Then she smiles and the dragon tries to mimic her.

“Hello.”, Leandra whispers to the dragon. “You are the most beautiful dragon I ever saw.”

It’s like the dragon understood her because it lets out a pleased purr.

For a moment Leandra checks the gender of the dragon.

Ah, it’s a she.

Of course, only a girl could be so beautiful!

Like Hiccup had done with Toothless, Leandra turns away and holds her hand out.

She waits for three heartbeats when she feels something scaly and warm touch her palm. Leandra opens an eye and sees that the female Night Furry closed the gap between them.

They stay like this for another two heartbeats before the girl Night Furry gives her hand a lick and returns to Toothless’s side.

Her hand is wet with dragon saliva, yet Leandra couldn’t care less, this was the most amazing thing she ever experienced.

“Lee?”

“Starchaser.”, she just says to her best friend. “I will call her Starchaser because her eyes are bright as stars.”

It’s night and Leandra can’t sleep.

In the end, they couldn’t try the ointments on Toothless since the sun was nearly down and she needed to be home, and Hiccup needed to meet Gobber and the others.

She stares in the darkness at the hand that Starchaser had licked. Somehow she manages to bond with the most beautiful creature on earth and for the first time in her life Leandra feels the hole in her heart dimmer.

The girl feels like she meet her soulmate. Who would have thought that it would be a dragon?

How she wishes to be in the cove and learn more about Starchaser.

They only had one big important moment together, but she knows nothing about her.

Leandra wants to know anything about her Night Furry friend.

Well, it’s not like she is alone.

Determined she stands up from her bed. Sleep is for the weak. In the darkness, she dresses in her dress and kirtle and, like always, uses her window to escape from home.

First, she checked if Hiccup was in his house, but not finding him there, she goes to the blacksmith stall.

Her best friend is really there and seems to work on something.

She makes the special knock they both agreed on she uses when he works so Hiccup knows it’s Leandra.

You don’t want to spook a blacksmith while working.

Could end in a bad accident.

“Come in.”, tells her Hiccup.

Couriers she watches him working on…something.

“What’s that going to be?”, she wants to know.

“Gobber told us a dragon who loses his wings and tail is a downed dragon. A death one.”, explain Hiccup. “So I’m making a tailfin for Toothless so he can fly again.”

“That’s awesome, Hiccup. I’m sure it will make him happy and Starchaser too.”

“Do you want to help me?”

“Just tell me what do to, partner.”

And so the best friends work together on the tailfin for Toothless. They get done with it before the sun rises. Both agree to meet up before Dragon Training and when Leandra needs to go to Gothi to visit the two Night Furries.

After they slept a bit, it was time again to wake up, but Leandra feels this time different. She is more excited than tired, even if she probably only slept two hours tops.

Hiccup and her meet up and take a chest full of fish for each Night Furry with them. Of course, he also has the tailfin for Toothless and Leandra her ointments.

They arrive at the cove where Toothless and Starchaser seem already to be waiting for them.

“Hello, Toothless.”

“Hi, Starchaser.”

“We brought breakfast for your guys.”, explains Hiccup to the two curious Night Furries.

The teenagers kick open their chests so that the fish spills out of the ground.

“Okay, that's disgusting.”, says Hiccup matter of fact.

“Yuck!”, adds Leandra with a wrinkled nose.

Toothless and Starchaser approach, settling in to devour the feast.

“Uh..we've got some salmon, some nice Icelandic cod, and a whole smoked eel.”

Hiccup could say he wanted to poison them since both Night Furries reacted with horrific screeches as they see the smoked eel.

“Throw it away, throw it away!”, yells Leandra to her best friend.

“No, no, no! It's okay. Yeah, I don't like eel much either.”, reassures Hiccup the dragons, and the eel gets thrown in a random direction away from them.

Satisfied the two dragons begin again to eat.

Both best friends nod at each other.

They planned that Leandra should have the attention of the dragons on herself, while Hiccup tries to put the tailfin on Toothless.

“Eat up, you big cuties. Yes, that’s good. We only want the good stuff, right, right?”, Leandra cooes at them. “Yummy, yummy, fish for the two most beautiful dragons in the world. Yes, who is the best girl and best boy? It’s you two!”

Hiccup straps the prosthetic fin in place. The dragon tenses, slowly spreading his wings. The boy cinches the straps.

“There. Not too bad. It works.”, mumbles Hiccup pleased.

That’s when Toothless bolts!

Not only Hiccup is surprised and scarred a second later since he hangs for dear life on Toothless’s tail, but also Starchaser and Leandra watch the boys flying around the cave with big eyes.

“What the heck?”, shrieks Leandra.

This was so not the plan.

Starchaser grumbles, she seems to agree with her.

The little fly of the due stops as fast as it started and they land in the water.

While the females winces, Hiccup celebrates happily. Toothless shakes himself dry and wonders what had happen.

“Okay how about this one?”, asks Leandra and holding another ointment under Toothless and Starchaser’s nose.

It is a while later, still too earlier for Dragon Training and Leandra’s job. Hiccup is trying to dry himself in the morning sun, in the meantime, Leandra is trying with the Night Furries’ help to see which ointment could work for Toothless.

Till now, they reacted with disgust, growls, and hiccups at her ointments.

She hoped this one is a winner.

It isn’t since both let out big dragon sneezes.

Leandra signs sadly.

Only one ointment is left.

Starchaser sensing the distress from the girl she took a liking purrs at her and nuzzles her cheek. Even Toothless joins in.

“Aww, thank you two. You both are precious, you know that?”

Both Night Furries purr happily.

Hiccup can’t help but smile softly at the scene. It’s really adorable seeing Leandra interact with their dragon friends.

Also, her tanned skin and black hair seem to formally glow in the morning sun.

The boy frowns at his thoughts and shakes his head.

Why is he thinking about such things? That’s his best friend, it’s weird.

Besides, he likes Astrid. He always had.

“All right, last one.”, say’s Leandra and holds it out. “How about this?”

Again the dragons sniff at the ointment and this time…they only purr. They like the smell. It is really comforting and clean.

Leandra smiles.

“Then we have a winner! Okay, Toothless let’s try this out.”

And so Leandra smears the ointment on Toothless missing tail.

After waiting for a bit it seems to have no negativ effects on him.

Grinning Leandra turns to Hiccup and he gives her a thump up.

Together they are a step closer in helping Toothless to fly again.

The Night Furry won!

Give a warm welcome to our golden-eyed girl Starchaser, Toothless mate!

You know what that means ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Can you guess it? :D

Next

[stewystew]

My favorite headcanons are the ones that go “[main character & co.] are weird as shit and every single background character knows it” that’s the good stuff

[sunflower1experiment]

The boys meet golden sheltered reader

Context: Reader only responds with soft grunts and has the ability to teleport, sadly she has a faint heart and if scared she won’t teleport and will hide to the closet thing she can find

Sun Wukong

“Who’s that?”

“Huh?” The monkey king turns then he gasps. “(Y/N)! What are you doing?” She turns away sadly, “Awh peaches don’t be frowny faced!” The male then offers a hand causing the girl to smile happily before hugging the male. He spun the woman around then placed her down while she composed herself carefully, “Everyone meet (Y/N), the golden sheltered.”

“OH OH I KNOW YOU!” Tang gleefully starts reading a page about her but paused when the woman hid behind Sun Wukong. “Oh right right I forgot, in her culture her people are known to hide at sudden bursts of noises, or loud noises. Forces her to go Caper.”

She peeks out then walks out while looking around and grunting to Sun Wukong. “Ah well, the lady bone demon came back.” (Y/N) frowns, “But we’ll defeat her with the three rings of fire.” She stared him down before shaking her head and making a repeated confused hum. “Mm” “hmmm.” “Mmmm.” He sighs.

“I’ll take ya with me okay hun.” She nods. “Hm Hm..” the woman walks over to MK and pats his head. “Hehe.” The woman picks the teen up then tossed him gently before twirling him around in a hug. “Awh she likes ya good. Would hate to see my wife hatin someone.”

Pigsy paused, “SHES YOUR WIFE- WHY HAVENT WE SEEN ‘ER?” The monkie kid shrugs then paused when the woman hid behind him. “That’s one reason, another is she has a faint heart, prone to get anxious will cling to me so she stays at home and waits for me to return after training the kid.” He leans into her hand while she rubs his head. “Exact reason why I married her, she’s patient with me, knows I’m a jokester-“

“Does she know you’re a manipulative liar and probably took advantage of her cuz she has the ability to teleport or somethin’!” Pigsy quirks an eyebrow then paused when the woman held Sun Wukong close. “Hm…”

“….Thanks hun.” The woman nods in agreement smooching the monkey king a couple of times.

Macaque

If she weren’t so easy to read he’d practically be struggling to comprehend the grunting.

But she was his and he was hers, what’s the problem? The problem is how they met.

Their first meet up was awkward per say to the least…terrifying. She was walking through her home, tip toeing for the sake of just trying to avoid any frightening noises. Until a shadow slowly slithered around then rises from the ground. Looking up, a soft squeak escapes her followed with a hiccup.

The shadow paused, “….Um…” she squeaks again, another hiccup. Suddenly more hiccups start to erupt: not long after he was cradling a crying woman. She wouldn’t let him go, her golden sheltered energy was to strong even though all she craved was emotionally affection.

He somehow was smitten by her beauty, which was the exact reason…as to why he took her.

Years passed the woman stood alone in silence, a small grunt escaped her while her feet taps against the grass. “Hm…Mm…”

The male’s hand soon caressed her face and she purred softly. “Hey kitten..you alright?” The woman nods. “Good good; ya missed me Hm?” She hums sadly then hugs Macaque while nuzzling into him.

“Haha I missed ya too.”

Red son

“Red son meet my friend- please be careful she has a faint heart and she’s correlated to Monkie King so I’m pretty sure he knows her.” Red son glanced at her.

“She looks like she’d faint at the sight of my flames! Please refrain from patronizing me with these pitiful things you show me- EH?” Two hands cup Red Son’s face and the woman gasps them hums softly.

“Pretty? I- I wouldn’t say pretty more like cool.” She gave MK a confused hum , shaking her head while clutching her slightly clothed hands. “Who’s pretty!?”

“(Y/N) says your eyes and hair are pretty, but then changed it to attractive.” Red son blushed madly, “We-Well no one could be as great as me! Not even Noodle Boy!” He laughs proudly.

(Y/N) claps, “Hmm!”

“Ahh…you two are perfect, silent girlfriend…Loud angry boyfriend.” The two fit the roles perfectly, except she was a silent listener. Helpful to Red son when angry.

[itsallyscorner]

Baby’s First Heartbreak

pairing: marvel cast x teen!fem!reader, Scarlett Johansson x reader, Elizabeth Olsen x reader

prompt: the youngest member of the marvel cast experiences her first breakup.

warnings: not much—crying, a break up.

A/n: Tom is 19 here because this is set during Civil War. He was such a baby omg🥺

You were always a firm believer in having hope. No matter what the situation was, you knew that you had to at least try before fully giving up. You were only 18, but it was the mindset you grew up with. You were taught to face things with bravery and confidence, you faced things head to head with all your might. Though some things never went the way you planned, you were still the ray of sunshine you were, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, eager to learn and explore the world.

You had the same mindset going into your first relationship. Love was something you’ve always wanted to experience. Sure, you received it from your friends and family. But you wanted the different kind of love. The special one that was shared between two people. The one that made your heart skip a beat and made you breathless. Where staring into that special someone’s eyes felt like you were being transported into another world where it was just the two of you.

You’ve found that kind of love in a boy from your hometown. The two of you had been friends since pre-k, growing up along side each other, and being there for each other’s success and failures. You’ve known him all your life but the feelings didn’t come till sophomore year of high school. It all just clicked all of sudden; that one day where he said you looked cute in his jumper and the next moment you knew you were seeing him in a new light. Junior year, you were both beating around the bush; constantly pining over each other with longing stares and fingers always brushing against each other. Though you didn’t see him all the time due to your job as an actress. You spent half of the school year in your hometown and the rest at Atlanta. Of course he knew of your job and as much as he hated to see you go, he knew you were doing something that made you happy. So he spent as much time as he could with you before your time together came to an end. A few days prior to your flight to Atlanta, under the night sky of your backyard, he admitted his feelings for you. By senior year, the two of you had been dating for half a year. It had been the best moments of your life, you were in love and high on happiness, it was like nothing in life could ever go wrong.

Now here you were, in your trailer on the set of Captain America: Civil War, sobbing you eyes out. You knew loving could hurt, but not this much. You still felt your heart skip a beat, but it was clenching in heartache. You were still breathless, but because you’ve been trying to catch your breath after every sob that wracked your body. You felt broken. The boy you loved had ripped your heart out of your chest and threw it onto the floor, stomping on it till it stopped beating.

You hiccuped as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You were nothing but a fool. A fool who had hope in something that was never going to work. You sniffled as you snatched tissues out of the box on your bathroom sink, dabbing the material onto your eyes and blowing your nose. Your eyes were red and your cheeks were puffy. A sigh of frustration releases from your body. There was no way you could walk onto set without people asking you what was wrong.

You debated asking your assistant to ask your designated makeup artist to do your makeup in your trailer, you didn’t want to be a bother. But your thumbs were already shamefully typing away the request on your phone. A few minutes later Eleanor, your makeup artist on set, arrives at your trailer with her supplies in hand.

She doesn’t directly question you, but she has the look of a concerned mother once she sees your face. You lie to her and tell her you weren’t having a good day and chalked it up to being homesick.

You dreaded going on set. You weren’t sure if you could face anyone without bursting into tears. The moment you felt like you were okay, your heart would clench, reminding you of the ache it was feeling.

You were in your costume, sitting on the sidelines of the set while you rehearsed your lines. The dialogue from the script acted as a distraction from the current pain you were feeling. The tears had stopped but your eyes felt dry, making you blink multiple times to keep them wet.

“Hey, sweetheart.” You look up and meet the stunning blue eyes of Chris Evans. That typical goofy smile of his was etched onto his features. Usually you would reciprocate that smile, but today you just couldn’t find it in your heart to do so. His smile falters when he sees your face.

“Morning.” You greet him, forcing a smile. Concern shadows on his face as he shifts a bit closer to you. “You alright?” He asks, eyes softening at you. Being the youngest of all the Avengers cast members, everyone had a soft side for you. Especially Chris, who saw you as a daughter.

“Y-yeah, I’ve just got—allergies.” You lied, another fake smile forcing itself onto your lips.

“Well have you taken something to help your allergies? Do you need Allegra? Claritin or something?” He looked around ready to call one of the runners on set to get you some meds.

“No! I took some already, a few minutes ago! It probably hasn’t kicked in yet.” You tell him. He eyes you reluctantly, not knowing if he should believe you. He decides to let it pass and nods, “Ok, tell me if you need anything though.”

You hum in response and tilt your head down back to your script.

The day goes on and everyone had caught on to your lack of—being you. The infamous smile everyone knew you by was barely on your face. You didn’t crack jokes with Anthony or share a giggle with Elizabeth. Instead you were quiet, a frown was on your face as you stared blankly at the floor. You didn’t interact with anybody, keeping to yourself and walking off set whenever one of the Russos called cut.

Anthony and Sebastian watched as you walked off the set. You have all finished a sequence of the airport scene and the Russos had given everyone a break while they rewatched the scenes they shot. Anthony’s brows furrowed while he watched your figure go further and further away. He had tried to cheer you up, telling you a joke about how Seb’s arm lube kept leaking out his fake arm. Your response was nothing but a fake laugh—it wasn’t even a fake laugh, more like a huff of laughter.

“She didn’t laugh at my joke.” Anthony thought aloud. Sebastian quirked an eye at his friend, “Does she have to laugh at all your jokes?”

“No, but even if I tell her a corny ass joke, she’ll still laugh at it.” He expressed, throwing his arms up. Sebastian’s lip pouted as he thought back to your behavior on set. You were acting unusual. He turns to Tom (Holland) and asks, “Hey, has (y/n) said anything to you? Like anything bothering her?”

The Brit shakes his head, “Um, nope. Besides filming, I haven’t spoken to her today.”

Anthony crosses his arms, approaching Tom, “Have you tried speaking to her? We’ve been trying to figure out what’s been going on with her today and you’re the closest to her age here.”

“I—I tried to talk to her, but she didn’t seem in a talking mood. I thought I was bothering her so I just stopped.” Tom answered. He gestures to the direction of the trailers, “I could check up on her right now? Maybe I’ll get her one of her favorite snacks from crafties, it might cheer her up.”

Half of a smile makes it way onto Sebastian’s face at the boy’s efforts. Though you were clearly upset and he felt like they were all prodding at your privacy. “Maybe we should give her some time alone.”

Tom frowns at the older man, “But (y/n)’s upset. Shouldn’t we do something?” Anthony agrees with Tom and looks at Sebastian.

Seb raises his hands up in defense, “I’m just saying—maybe she wants to be alone. She went back to her trailer away from everybody. She probably doesn’t want us shoving our noses into her business, we should respect that.”

Chris joins the group along with Scarlett and Elizabeth. He had overhead the group talking and urged the two ladies to join him in on the conversation.

“You guys talking about (y/n)?” Chris asks, hands on his waist.

“Yeah, Seb says we should leave her be.” Anthony fills him in.

“She told me she had allergies.” Chris starts. “She’s an amazing actress, but kid’s gotta work on the lying.” He finishes. Elizabeth and Scarlett glance at each other.

“Well has anyone talked to her at all today? Besides Chris?” Elizabeth asked the group. Everyone shakes their head. Elizabeth sighs while looking around at anyone else who could’ve talked to you. She spots Eleanor hanging along the sides with her makeup belt on, ready for touch ups. Elizabeth calls her over. Eleanor has her brush ready to powder her down, but Elizabeth politely declines.

“You do (y/n)‘s makeup right?”

Eleanor nods, “Yeah, I do.”

“How was she this morning? We’re just a bit concerned since she’s been acting different today.” Eleanor sighs, knowing if she told them it would be an invasion of your privacy. Although, they were all concerned for you and so was she.

“I got a text from her assistant telling me to do her makeup in her trailer today.” She began. “I walked in and her eyes were red, cheeks puffy—“

Chris apologizes and interrupts her, “Because of allergies?”

Eleanor shakes her head, “No, she never mentioned anything about allergies. But she looked like she’s been crying. She was wiping her face when I arrived.”

“Did she give you a reason for why she was crying?” Scarlett questions her.

“She told me she was feeling homesick.” Eleanor answered. Scarlett turned to Chris and shared a look. Elizabeth thanks Eleanor then turns back to the group.

“We need to check up on her.” Anthony says. All the men nodded and began to make their way to your trailer. Suddenly, they were stopped by Scarlett and Elizabeth.

“But (y/n)—“ Tom said pointing to the trailers. Scarlett shakes her head, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Lizzie and I will go. You guys are gonna overwhelm her with all your questions.” Scarlett insists, much to the men’s dismay. They wanted to be there for you, but maybe a mother figure might help you open up with what’s bothering you. They agree and let the two women go to your trailer. Before they can get to you, they get some snacks from crafties for you.

As soon as you shut the trailer’s door behind you, the tears welled up in your eyes again. It only took a matter of seconds until they fell from your eyes and down your cheeks. You heard some people walk by outside and cover your mouth to muffle the whimpers that came out your mouth. You slid down the door and shoved your head into your hands. You leaned forward against your knees as you cried into your arms. You felt pathetic, embarrassed, anger; you were feeling so many things and the only way to let them all out seemed to be crying.

They heard your cries from behind the door. Scarlett sends Elizabeth an alarmed look as she rushes up to your door. She knocked on it repeatedly, causing you to jump from behind the door. Your cries come to a stop while you try to wipe away the tears as best as you can.

“(Y/n), honey, please open the door.” You hear Scarlett say. You remain silent, getting up and dusting your legs off. You stare at the door, debating whether you should open it or not.

“(Y/n), everyone’s worried about you. We just want to help.” Another voice coaxes you behind the door. Elizabeth. “Please let us in.”

Outside, the two women had their ears pressed up against your trailer’s door. Scarlett tries to get you to open the door again, “It’s only me and Lizzie. I promise.”

There was some shuffling heard behind the door. The door pushes open slowly, making Scarlett and Elizabeth back away. A worried expression appears on Scarlett’s face once she sees you. She cups your cheeks, her thumbs gently swiping away some tears that fell from your eyes. The two of them shuffle inside your trailer. You burst out into tears once again when Scarlett wraps her arms around you. She moves you both to sit on the couch that was in your trailer. She lets you shove your head into the crook of her neck while her hands smoothed your hair. Elizabeth sits behind you rubbing circles onto your back. Your cries broke both their hearts. You were a fairly happy girl, to see you in such pain and heartache was hard to watch.

Scarlett rocks you back and forth, trying to calm you down by whispering comforting words into your ear. She presses a motherly kiss onto your forehead once she sees you start to calm down. Elizabeth waits patiently beside you waiting for when you’re ready to talk. When your whimpers turned into hiccups, Scarlett pulls your face away from her neck to look at you. She frowns when she sees your tear stained cheeks.

“Are you going to tell us what’s going on or are you going to keep bottling it up to yourself?” She asks you softly, tucking strands of your hair behind your ears. Elizabeth chimes in from behind you, “You know, sometimes it helps to tell others what’s bothering you. You don’t have to keep it to yourself, (y/n), you could talk to us.” She gathers your hair together, splitting it into two parts as she began to fish tail braid your hair. 

You take a moment to compose yourself before eyeying the two women. You knew you could trust them. Scarlett was like your on-set mom and Lizzie was like one of your aunts. If you could tell anyone on set what was going on, it would be them.

“He broke up with me.” You confess, eyes trained on your lap. Lizzie’s fingers stop braiding your hair, “What?”

“Peyton, he broke up with me.” You whined, not wanting to say it again. You fiddle with your fingers while a tear falls to your lap.

“Oh honey.” Scarlett cooes pulling you back into her chest. You sniffle and wrap your arms around her torso. Silently crying into her shoulder.

“Did he give you a reason why?” Lizzie asks softly. You move away from Scarlett’s hold and lean against the couch with your knees to your chest. Lizzie wraps an arm around your shoulder for comfort.

You glanced at your phone that was on the coffee table, “H-he texted me earlier this morning. He said he couldn’t do the long distance thing anymore and that he has feelings for somebody else.”

Anger flashes in Scarlett’s eyes, “He broke up with you over a text message?” You nod in response.

“What a dick.” She mutters glaring at your phone. It’s quiet for a few minutes. Until you ask them, “Am I not worth trying for a long distance relationship?”

Lizzie shakes her head, “No, don’t you ever think that because you are.”

You sigh and throw your head back, “Then why did he break up with me? Is there something wrong with me? Am I not pretty enough?” Scarlett interrupts your questions by shushing you.

“There is not a damn thing wrong about you. Don’t you ever let a man, let alone a boy, make you question your worth.” Scarlett advises you a stern look on her face. “You are the most sweetest and loveliest girl I have ever met in my life. You’re kind, you care about the people around you—you even laugh at Anthony’s stupid jokes.”

Lizzie snorts beside you and squeezes your shoulder, “And his jokes are the worst.”

Scarlett continues, “You are a talented young woman already making it big in the movie industry and you did it all on your own. You are beautiful inside and out. You’re perfect, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Then why did he leave me?”

“Because he’s an idiot that doesn’t know your worth.” Lizzie answers resting her head on your shoulder. “I know it hurts now but these things happen for a reason. He wasn’t meant for you and you weren’t meant for him. Maybe somewhere in the future you guys will meet and try again. Or maybe you’ll move on with someone new. That’s just how it is. It may sound harsh, but it’s the truth.”

Scarlett nods at Lizzie, “Take it from me, I’ve been married twice. When it seems like you found that special person, sometimes it’ll all come crashing down. And it’s not an easy thing to go through. It’s full of pain, heartache, self doubt and a bunch of other heart wrenching things. But in the end you come out a stronger version of yourself.”

You stare at Scarlett, “How did you do it?”

Scarlett softly smiles at you, “Well, I had lots of friends who supported me every step of the way. But most importantly, I valued myself. I did things that made me happy and took care of myself mentally and physically.”

You bite your lip in thought as you stare at the ground.

“Listen to me.” Scarlett urges you, “You’re young, (y/n). You’re going to meet so many more people in the future that’ll bring you so much happiness and love in your life. Don’t beat yourself up over one boy who decided to leave you because he wasn’t committed for a long distance relationship. You’re going to be okay.” She assures you, cradling your face. Your lips form into a tight smile while you nod in response.

“You have us and the rest of the people outside of this trailer to support you. We’ll always have your back, whatever it is, I promise you that. You’re not going to go through this by yourself.” Lizzie promises you, taking your hand into hers. You hum and rest your head on her shoulder. You pull on Scarlett’s arm to join you and Lizzie. She chuckles and hugs you from behind.

“Thank you guys.” You whisper, genuinely grateful that you had them in your life. Lizzie pecks your temple, “Anytime darling.”

[trashytummiez]

Story prompt: Izuku and Ochako are sharing a meal, but since they're both dorks, it gets rather awkward, so they try to distract themselves from the embarrassment by eating more food. This only serves to make them bloated and gassy, which makes the awkwardness worse, thus sparking a vicious cycle.

This one ended up being huuuuuuuge :o

Warning: contains arousal belly kink bloating burps burp kink tummy rubs

Since he first joined UA Izuku was always really close to Ochako. The two of them were of best friends ever since that first practical hero exam they took with all those robots. As their journey continued the two only became closer and closer. Both had made lots of friends within the school and had their own lives but they never lost touch with each other as their academic and heroic adventures progressed.

So when Ochako invited Izuku over to her dorm to cook together Izuku was thrilled to do so. They'd spent tons of time already cooking together at summer camp before the league invaded and ruined everything so this was like putting on an old glove for them. One that slipped on just as easily as when they first started.

Of course because the two of them were so lost in talking with each other and just hanging out as they cooked they ended up making a lot more food than they originally expected they would.

Well, at least they'd have plenty of leftovers right?

They both eventually sat at the table and put everything they cooked together at the center. Obviously there was way more food than either one intended to eat but at least they could just pick at whatever they wanted if whatever was on their plates wasn't enough.

The two teenagers quickly started eating and straight away their faces lit up at how good everything tasted.

“Mmmm wow this is delicious Ochako!” Izuku praised and took in another pretty big mouthful. After swallowing it down with a pretty hearty gulp Izuku smiled back at Ochako. “You're a really great cook!”

Ochako blushed and took a bite herself unable to gush at the flavor. She gulped and waved her hand modestly. “Oh I just followed the recipe. It was a lot easier than usual with how fast you prepped all the ingredients. I guess with all those muscles chopping meat and veggies is a lot easier huh.”

It was Izuku's turn to blush when he heard that which made him turn to his food. He instinctively ate more to mask his blush. Ochako couldn't help but notice the way Izuku ate. For such a gentle boy Izuku had one of the biggest appetites in the entire school. He could often eat more than most of his most gluttonous classmates. And as he ate here Ochako noticed that he was taking really big mouthfuls and gulping them so heavily that she could practically hear his throat squelching from across the table. Her eyes couldn't help but follow the sizable lumps that emerged and pushed down his throat before disappearing behind his chest.

For some reason that sight made Ochako blush a little more. So she in turn ate more as if to distract herself. Though even then Ochako noticed that Izuky had just the cutest smile on his face when he ate. It was absolutely adorable. There really was such an endearingly boyish quality to Izuku. An innocence and adorability no other student at the school had. Though why she was thinking about that now she didnt know. Which might explain why she once again started eating more to take her mind off of her wandering thoughts.

Izuku finished in record time. He leaned back and sighed contently. “Ahh that was so good,” he said rubbing his stomach contently.

Surprisingly Ochako finished shortly after he did. She huffed very softly and smiled back at Izuku. “You said it Deku! This tasted better than usual for some reason!” She said and patted her tummy happily with both hands. Suddenly she hiccuped making her blush and very quickly cover her mouth. “Oops! Heh excuse me. Think I ate a little faster than usual there.”

“I noticed,” Izuku said with a blush of his own. “Maybe you were hungrier than you thought?”

“M-Maybe,” Ochako conceded. Then she turned to the food still at the table and smiled innocently. “Well good thing there's still so much more right?” She quickly loaded her plate with more food to distract herself.

“G-Good point. No reason we can't enjoy a little more when everything's still fresh,” Izuku said and joined Ochako in reloading his plate.

There was noticeably more on both of their plates than the first go especially Izuku's. The two teens quickly started eating more and seemed to relax a little when they did so. Everything just tasted that good.

Once again when she ate Ochako couldn't take her eyes off of Izuku. He wasn't ravenous like so many other boys in school when he ate. But something about watching him eat so much gave her a funny feeling. She couldn't peg what it was though. The hums he gave were so cute as was his smile. But the way she could see each gulp send a lump protruding down his throat and get capped with a very soft and subtle huff from the boy only stirred Ochako in a way she couldn't describe. But it certainly made her blush which only led to her eating even more to distract herself.

Something else caught Ochako's eye.

Izuku was eating so much that after a while his normally flat and muscular stomach looked like it was beginning to stick out. It wasn't entirely noticeable but his t-shirt was definitely looking noticeably more snug around the middle than it usually did. Why was that detail making her cheeks so warm?

Izuku's thoughts weren't much better. He couldn't not notice Ochako as she ate or how fast she was eating. It was surprising that a girl like her could eat so much and so quickly. And something about that fact caused a stir in Izuku's tummy. Almost like butterflies. Especially when he noticed her own flat tummy beginning to poke out from how much she was eating at so fast a pace.

Why did that detail catch his attention so much?

To take his mind off of that Izuku plowed through his second plate and eventually polished it off. Izuku huffed to himself and rubbed his belly. He still looked satisfied but also had a hint of weariness when he rubbed. Something about seeing Izuku massaging his tummy stirred Ochako even further prompting her to eat faster. Izuku appeared strained for a moment which made his rubbing stop. Instead his fingers tightened against his stomach and he held a fist up to his mouth in time to give a deep closed mouth burp. Even muffled the rumbling sound was pretty loud.

Izuku blushed and smiled sheepishly at Ochako. “...E-Excuse me.”

Ochako giggled and said “You're excused” playfully. But even her giggle didn't hide the fact that the sound had her blushing even more. What was wrong with her?

To Ochako's surprise Izuku quickly loaded his plate with even more food.

“Wow Deku you really are hungry aren't you,” she said.

“M-Maybe a little,” Izuku lied.

Ochako finished her own plate and followed suit. Both teens quickly distracted themselves with more food. Something about eating together without Iida there felt foreign to them. Not unwelcome but oddly anxiety inducing. It was hard to really describe because they both loved each others company and cared deeply for one another. Yet being alone and dining together felt...strange to them. Especially the act itself of just seeing each other eat. Was there something the two had in common and didn't realize until now?

By the time they finished their third plates both were noticeably more full than the first and second go. “Whew. Oh wow. This stuff is almost too good not to keep eating,” Izuku praised as he leaned back and rubbed his belly. It was definitely more noticeably bloated than it was before.

Ochako huffed in a slightly more exhausted way when she leaned back in her chair and held her bulging tummy in both hands. “Ohh man you're not kidding Deku. I'm so full,” Ochako said. And clearly she was even fuller than she realized because without warning Ochako burped loudly. Her face turned as red as Red Riot's dyed hair when she clamped her mouth shut with both hands and went completely wide-eyed. “Oh g-gosh excuse me! I'm so sorry!” She sputtered with embarrassment.

Izuku looked genuinely surprised to hear Ochako of all people give such an impressive burp. But he nonetheless giggled with genuine amusement and said, “Don't be sorry that was a good one!”

“Yeah but that was so unladylike and gross!” Ochako whined in a humiliated way.

“It's only natural. We both ate a lot and ate it real fast. Of course you're gonna have a lot of air in your tummy,” Izuku explained blushing a bit at saying the word 'tummy' out loud which even Ochako smiled somewhat at hearing despite her embarrassment.

Just to prove his point Izuku leaned back in his chair and patted his belly which caused a loud echoing burp to roll out of Izuku's mouth. He normally held them in which was why his closed mouth burps always rumbled so hard . But when he let them out freely they were some of the loudest a person could give.

Ochako was naturally taken back since Izuku was so well mannered. But not only did seeing him let loose so loudly dispel her embarrassment it also had her cheeks blushing for a different reason.

Izuku blushed after. Clearly even he wasn't used to letting out an eruption like that but he nonetheless giggled and smiled back at Ochako. “See?”

She couldn't help but smile gratefully at him for doing that just to make Ochako feel less embarrassed. “Thanks Deku.”

He simply beamed preciously back at her. Then a thought occurred to him. “Can I ask you something Ochako? Don't you usually go off campus with Tsu and Mina most weekend nights to eat out together?”

“Yeah but we've both been so busy these days I thought it might be nice if we could catch up. Just the two of us,” Ochako replied.

Izuku smiled softly. “I'm really glad you did. I always love getting to spend time with you.”

Ochako smiled right back in a very fond and familiar sort of way. “Me too Deku.”

Then Izuku said the quiet part out loud when he scratched the back of his mop of hair and innocently said, “You know from an outside perspective this would almost look like a date!”

The silence between them was deafening.

But the freakout was hilarious.

“A w-w-w-WHAT?!?!” Ochako sputtered with eyes like baseballs.

“AHHH! I-I DIDN'T MEAN LikE-O-OF COURSE THIS ISN'T A DATE!!!” Izuku flailed hysterically while laughing nervously. “JUST TWO FRIENDS HAVING DINNER RIGHT?!”

“R-RIGHT! N-NOTHING ROMANTIC ABOUT THAT!!” Ochako insisted while laughing just as nervously and loudly as Izuku was.

“OF COURSE NOT! FRIENDS DO THAT ALL THE TIME DON'T THEY?”

“ALL THE TIME! JUST-A-ALL THE TIME! EVERY TIME!!!”

“EXACTLY!!”

“RIGHT!!! AND FRIENDS GET FUNNY FEELINGS WATCHING THEIR FRIENDS EAT ALL THE TIME TOO-” Ochako froze in place when she realized she said that part out loud.

Izuku was frozen in place mid-freakout. And in a hilariously deadpanned way he asked, “...What was that last part?”

Ochako's face looked like it was steaming. She sputtered in her inability to think of anything to say. So instead she turned to the food still at the table. “Y-You know I think I'm just really hungry! I'm just gonna go ahead and help myself!”

“G-Good call!” Izuku concurred and loaded his own plate with as much food as it could fit just as Ochako did. “It's still fresh after all! Tastes best going down when it's fresh right?”

“E-Exactly!” Ochako agreed and both immediately stuffed their faces with as much food as they could cram down their gullets at once. Absolutely anything they could do to shut themselves up before admitting anything else out loud.

It didn't matter how full either one was they just kept on eating and eating. Anything to get over the immense embarrassment both felt at admitting anything like romantic feelings towards one another. Such talk was absolute crazy talk after all. It had to be. At least that's what both teens convinced themselves in between swallowing one giant mouthful of food after another.

And the whole while they continued stuffing themselves their tummies continued to expand with the sudden rush of food going down their throats all at once. Both of their stomachs only continued to press and round out more and more with every few hearty gulps both took. Ochako's tummy was getting so big that her bare flesh was beginning to peak out from underneath her shirt. Izuku's tummy was even bigger revealing more of his pale stomach beneath his t-shirt and almost starting to ride up around his belly button. Their embarrassment was thus that they couldn't help just shoveling more and more food down their gullets without any train of thought to it beyond the same thought of “why did I say that?!” playing on loop in their heads respectively.

If these two were at a national eating contest they would win in a heartbeat at the rate they were eating.

The good news was that they had eventually gotten over their embarrassment in the midst of their flustered feeding frenzy. Unfortunately that only happened when the two of them had finished every bit of food they had prepped which left them both incredibly bloated and overstuffed beyond reason.

"Unnnngh...I can't believe we ate so much..." Ochako moaned scooting her chair back and rubbing her incredibly bloated tummy all over with both hands. She looked like she swallowed a beach ball with how round her belly had become in her embarrassment fueled binge.

Her big tummy gave a big grumble which caused an even bigger gas bubble to rush up her throat. Her cheeks puffed as she covered her mouth to try and hold it in but the force of it was so strong that she blew her hand back with a huge absolutely unladylike burp.

HHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUURRRRAAAAAAAAHHHPPP!!!!!!

She blushed immensely and covered her mouth after that powerful eruption ripped past her lush lips.

"...Ex-cuuuUUUuu-se...m-me-eurp-oh god..." Ochako's embarrassment was made even worse when she tried to excuse herself but accidentally burped in the middle of it.

Fortunately her embarrassment was short lived. The immensely overstuffed Izuku held his huge pregnant looking belly with both hands and let loose a giant burp that somehow dwarfed Ochako's in length and volume and practically echoed throughout her whole living quarters.

BBBRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUURRRRRHHHRRREEEEEEEEEEEEUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOORRRRLPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ochako could seriously feel that record breaking eructation Izuku let loose rattle in her own bones. To say nothing of the blood it sent rushing both to her increasingly red face and her loins.

Izuku panted breathlessly. His huge belly rose and fell with his strained breathing after having so much air ripped out of him all at once like that. He tried to speak but grew strained. Instead he patted the side of his round bare belly hard and gave another burp. It wasn't as deafening as that monster he just let out but it still extended for a few seconds straight.

After Izuku leaned back in his chair and sighed while he ran his hands across his vast pale tummy. "Ohhhh man I'm ssssooo full..." Izuku moaned then brought a fist up to his mouth to give a deep closed mouth after burp.

He was so gassy and Ochako was loving it even if she wasn't faring any better.

The two teenagers struggled under the weight of their own tummies. But they fortunately managed to push themselves up and get themselves sitting down on Ochako's couch together. They sat down next to each other and their immensely stuffed tummies churned and grumbled noisily like washing machines.

Both them looked completely spent. They both groaned and massaged their overstuffed tummies which were gurgling heavier than they'd ever gurgled before.

"Ungh my tummy is killing me..." Ochako whined while she nursed her aching belly smoothly with her hands running up and down her tight bloated flesh. "...Why did we eat so much...?"

Izuku kneaded his much larger tummy until he gave another long throaty burp. Ochako blushed heavily at how she could feel it vibrate through the couch.

"...Wow you sure are burping a lot Deku," Ochako noted in a quieted tone of voice. Like she was doing her best to hide how much it was turning her on.

"Sorry I know it's gross but-"

"-I-I don't mind you can keep doing it!" Ochako blurted and blushed even more. She hoped she didn't sound too desperate when she said that.

Izuku scratched the back of his head whilst still massaging his churning tummy with one hand. "Well I was gonna say it's helping to ease some of the pressure in my tummy. You should let a few out too. It might make your own tummy hurt less."

To illustrate his point Izuku thumped his chest and gave another heavy burp that left him moaning after at how good it felt. Ochako watched Izuku knead and push down on his large round tummy really kneading his fingers into his flesh. And every time he did a really hearty burp would roll out of his throat so forcefully at times he'd even drool a little.

He normally would've been embarrassed about burping so much and so loudly around others especially Ochako. But he'd eaten so much that it was the only way he could settle his stomach down without getting sick.

Little did he realize how much Ochako was enjoying the show.

Ochako's blush wasn't going away anytime soon. She could've just sat there watching Izuku burp well into the night but she was still suffering a pretty bad tummyache herself. So she at least tried to take Izuku's advice to heart. Ochako kneaded her tummy trying to apply pressure that would force more gas out. After doing some kneading she was rewarded with a thick burp that tore out of her mouth.

HHUUUAAAAARRRRRRUUUUUHP!!!!!

It was pretty strong and left her huffing but didn't bring her the relief she was hoping it would. Especially when her tummy gave an even thicker grumble that made her cringe uncomfortably.

"There you go. Feel any better?" Izuku asked.

Ochako pushed down on her tummy again and managed to squeeze another burp out but it was a lot lighter and more strained.

"Ungh I think they're stuck..."

Izuku bit his lips and blushed himself. "...Can I...give you a hand...?" He suggested holding up his hand and gesturing to Ochako's belly.

His face was as red as hers in that moment. But Ochako quietly nodded and leaned back against the couch which made her big round tummy stick out more.

Izuku bit his lower lip and very hesitantly placed his hands on Ochako's belly. He almost whimpered at the way Ochako's bare skin felt beneath his fingers. Her flesh was smooth and soft yet as tight as his from how bloated they both were. He'd always fantasized rubbing ochako's tummy before but never imagined he'd get the chance to actually do so.

He was legitimately overwhelmed.

But once his nerves settled Izuku proceeded to rub Ochako's troubled tummy in smooth circles. Her stomach felt so warm from her natural warmth and the massive amount of fresh food she managed to eat all in one go like that. There was a light wobble to her tummy that caused everything inside of Ochako to slosh lightly with Izuku's hand movements.

Though Ochako's face was red at having Izuku touch her, she groaned at how good that touch felt against her utterly bloated stomach. That only made Izuku blush even more but he continued to rub. Izuku practically lost himself in the feeling of Ochako's tummy. He rubbed his hands across her tummy from the softer thicker bottom all the way to the rounded top of her stomach. The boy almost had to resist the urge to rest his ear against her belly and listen to it gurgling away.

While he rubbed he felt tense portions of skin where gas was brewing and pressed down on Ochako's belly carefully but firmly enough to dislodge the gas. His push was stronger than Ochako's meaning he got a larger portion of gas out. The result of which was a loud really deep burp that sounded like it came from the very depths of Ochako's stomach.

BWROOOUUUUUUUURRRAAAAHP!!!!!!!!

Ochako gasped heavily and covered her mouth out of instinct.

Izuku giggled softly and blushed himself. "Heh hey don't be sorry. A lot of the guys would probably be jealous if they could hear that. But did that at least help?"

"Yeah actually, it kind of relieved some of that tight painful pressure in my tummy," Ochako admitted.

Izuku couldn't help but smile at not being the only one who used the word 'tummy' in the room. "Should I keep going then?"

Ochako hummed and nodded a little more comfortably eager for Izuku's touch.

He continued rubbing her belly all over and using his fingers to push into her flesh. Izuku occasionally just got lost in marveling at Ochako's beautiful belly. The little freckles across her lower tummy and that unbelievably perfect looking belly button. He couldn't help placing his palm just over her navel and blushed furiously when he felt it up. Though when he applied pressure to it Ochako lurched with a sizable gas bubble working its way up her throat.

She instinctively covered her mouth and went wide eyed unsure if she was about to throw up at first.

Instead her hand was blown back as Ochako gave a massive burp that caused some drips of spittle to fly out of her delicate mouth.

HUUUUUUUUUAAAARRRRRRRUUUUUURRRAAAAAAAAHHHP!!!!!!!

As soon as that considerable gas pocket rushed out of Ochako another huge throaty burp followed almost instantly and jostled her tummy slightly in Izuku's trembling hands.

BBBRRRREEEEEEEEUUUUUUUURRRROOOOOOOORRRRAAAAAAAUUUP!!!!!!!

Izuku was kind of stunned. He'd never heard a girl burp so loudly or so frequently in his life, not even Mina. And the absolute last person he expected to hear such sounds from was Ochako.

It was incredibly surprising...and surprisingly hot at the same time. Especially the way her tummy felt like it was jiggling in his hands as the burps rolled out of her.

He smiled and gave the side of her tummy a few pats. "There you go just get it all out," he said.

And Ochako certainly didn't have any problem with that. The more Izuku kneaded her belly the more Ochako found herself burping frequently and quite loudly. There had to be a lot of pressure in her tummy to see her burping so much and so hard.

After a really long eruption rolled out of the girl she slumped back against the couch panting breathlessly. The relief she felt was incredible.

"Ungh...ohhh...w-ooOOOOOoooowwW!!!" Ochako blushed even more despite her decidedly crass onslaught of expulsions just a moment ago. She thought she got it all out but ended up burping the word 'wow' out unexpectedly.

But Izuku saw her embarrassment and grinned. He kneaded his own tummy and gave it a firm pat to burp his response right back.

GooOOod...

...ooOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNEEEE!!!!!!

UUUUURRRRrrrhpp!!!!

Ochako looked surprised to hear sweet Izuku burp talk the response "good one" back at her before just letting out a deep burp at the end. She managed a strained giggle but was blushing furiously.

"I did that on accident...you can burp-talk on command like that?" Ochako asked looking visibly flustered which Izuku didn't seem to catch onto.

"Heh yep! Trick I picked up on as a kid but I don't do it much these days since it's pretty childish."

Between the relief Izuku provided having his hands all over her tummy and her burping her brains out moments ago Ochako's thirst crept up and got the best of her.

"...Well it is just us...besides," Ochako reached over and sneaked herself a feel of Izuku's belly by giving it a playful pat making the much larger tummy ripple a little as everything inside sloshed around and gurgled. "It sounds to me like your tummy could use a little relief too."

Izuku hiccuped from the patting and then Ochako began to gently rub Izuku's much larger belly in a more sensual way. Her touch made him shiver. But it also made his tummy gurgle richly. He grunted and rubbed his chest tenderly.

"Nrf good point. Do you want me to say anything?"

She knew almost right away what she wanted to hear and nudged that large swollen tummy of his insistently when she answered. "...Could you try...burping my name?"

Her thirst was so palpable at that point that even sweet and oblivious Izuku finally picked up on what she was asking and why. There was a slight flicker in his big adorable eyes. Izuku grinned and took in some air until he couldn't take anymore in. Then he leaned in a little closer and gave Ochako exactly what she wanted.

OoooooooooooooOOooooooooo-

chAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaak...

...ooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRrrmmmph!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Izuku burped out Ochako's name straining in the middle until he massively burped out the last syllable in her name stretching it out for as long as he could until he intentionally closed his mouth at the end and let it turn into a big closed mouth burp that Ochako could hear rumbling right in her ear until it ended.

To say that Ochako's arousal reached a fever high would be the ultimate understatement.

Izuku subtly blew the gas out from the side of his mouth and gave his blushing friend a smile that was a cross between sultry and cheeky.

"We should do this again sometime," Izuku said and gently ran his hand over Ochako's burbling tummy.

Ochako leaned in and caught Izuku by surprise by planting her lips onto his. Clearly she couldn't agree fast enough.

[sickficsies-and-whumpsies]

hi, may i ask you sick semi eita fic? he went amusement park with his team despite feeling a little bit unwell. Later he feels dizzy & nauseous, his team then take him to doctor/dorm. thank you 🥰

Oui oui, mon amie!!

TW: dizziness & nausea, vomiting, hospitals, brief mentions of IVs.

1.4k words, Gen.

ー ー ー

“Oh, the queue for that one isn’t too long!! Let’s go, guys!!”

Semi sighs. While Tendou’s volume doesn’t usually bother him, right now, stuck in the middle of Yagiyama Benyland, surrounded by screaming people and running children, he wishes his friend could turn it down a notch already.

The fabric around his neck feels constricting, suffocating. Semi tugs at the collar of his shirt lightly, clearing his throat silently as he trails behind the rest of the team.

He massages his stomach under the grey hoodie, feeling it gurgle under his touch. It was only two days ago when the pinch-server’s stomach first sent a painful, sudden jolt of white-hot pain throughout his body, making him shudder and gag, taken aback. But since his appendix has long been removed, Semi’s confident that it’s probably just a matter of too much coffee and too little water in his guts. It’s been a stressful week, after all. Nothing he can’t fix. It still hurts, though.

“Are you sure we’re tall enough for that ride?” Goshiki jokes, and everyone laughs, Tendou wrapping a lanky arm around the first-year and ruffling his head with the other hand. More laughter echoes among the group.

Semi shudders, chills running down his spine, stomach twisting. He struggles to even only force out a tiny smile.

ー

The safety belts press against his stomach and shoulders uncomfortably, and Semi doesn’t think he will make it. Next to him, Ushijima sits quietly, waiting for the ride to start. He briefly glances over, humming.

“Are you scared, Semi?”

There’s no malice in his voice, no curiosity either. It’s something along the lines of… Concern? Annoyance? Both?

“M’fine.” Semi gulps, “Just excited.”

“It’s okay to be scared.”

“M’not.”

“Alright. But if you were, it’d be okay.”

“Ushijiー!!” he gets cut off, abruptly, as the thing finally starts to move.

The higher it goes, the more Semi knows he’s not going to make it. There’s no doubt about it. He quickly tries to recall if there’s some sort of trashcan near the exit but he realises that he hasn’t seen any. 

His complexion bleaches rapidly. The thing is, Semi isn’t scared of roller coasters, he quite enjoys them, to be fair. Right now, the thing he fears the most is puking all over himself or worse, over the team’s captain.

And he knows it’s going to happen.

The people in the front row start screaming, Semi only a few rows back. It’s only a matter of seconds before he feels himself falling, and the world tunes out.

ー

He doesn’t actually pass out, really. Instead, once the operators remove his safety belts and wish him and his friends a fun day, he lets his shaky legs guide him down the metal staircase, eyes glazed over, blind. He’s not quite sure he’s moving, either. And he looks green.

Semi doesn’t even register that Ushijima’s strong hand is wrapped around his right upper arm, the left in the care of Tendou himself, eerily quiet. They set him down on the first empty bench they find, the team quiet behind the three.

It’s Reon to crouch in front of the ill teen, a firm hand squeezing his knee encouragingly. “Semi? Dude, hey.”

“...up…” he murmurs, seemingly catatonic, staring somewhere behind the team that has gathered in front of him, eyes filled to the brim with apprehension.

The setter swallows, a thin trail of saliva making its way down the corner of his chapped lips and down his twitching chin. He opens his mouth to speak, to say something, but nothing comes out, and soon enough he ducks his head between his knees and retches onto the pavement without a second warning. 

His teammates gasp, horrified and worried, but Reon is quick to avoid the onslaught and immediately usher the others away, leaving Tendou and Ushijima behind. The taller guy rubs at his back firmly, while the other puts a palm flat on Semi’s forehead, preventing him from giving himself a whiplash. 

His skin feels cold and clammy, ashen. Tendou hisses. 

Not long passes before Semi throws up again, more and more bile splashing between his feet, little droplets staining his shoes and jeans. He retches and gags, helpless, eyes stinging painfully, about to pop out of his skull.

Reon jogs back a minute later, stopping a couple of meters away to give Semi some breathing room. “Should we call an ambulance? He looks like death warmed over...”

Ushijima shakes his head. “We should try and make him drink something, first.”

“I don’t think he’s up to it, Toshi.” Tendou reasons, “Semi-Semi, hey, you need to take a breath, my man.” he adds, patting the boy’s shoulder while Ushijima keeps massaging circles on his back.

But Semi doesn’t. He can’t. His stomach twists and knots painfully, and he doubles over, arms wrapped protectively around his abdomen as he hiccup and dry-heaves weakly. 

“Does your stomach hurt?” Reon asks, careful, calm as ever, “Do you need an ambulance?”

“Yeah, we should call ‘em.” Tendou says, “It’s not normal to feel this sick after riding a roller coaster as bland as that one, andー”

“He was feeling ill before the ride, too. I didn’t think it was this bad, though. I apologize, Semi.” Ushijima interjects. “I think the ride was simply the last straw.”

The three stay quiet for a moment, Semi’s desperate struggles and pants and hiccups drowning out every other noise. And finally, blissfully, about ten minutes after sitting down, his jagged breaths come to a halt, and he slumps to the side, crashing into Tendou.

“Semi-Semi...? Oh shit. Is he dead? Semi-Semi?” Tendou gasps, “Guys, a little help?”

The ill teen is quick to blink his eyes open, glassy and dull, spent. “H’rts.”

“What hurts?” 

“S-stomach. Head.” 

Reon nods, serious. He then takes his phone out and quickly types something, before glancing at Ushijima and Tendou, who are both massaging Semi’s trembling back, subconsciously. 

“Okay, the closest bus stop is about five minutes away on foot from here, and then it takes about ten minutes to get to Sendai Red Cross Hospital by bus, and another minute on foot after that. What do you guys say?” Reon asks.

Tendou is fast to nod, “Let’s go, we might catch the first bus available if we hurry.”

“I’ll carry him.” Ushijima adds.

Semi then struggles, shaking his headー aggravating his nausea and gagging silently. “Th-the others, and y-you, th-the pa-park and- and the tickets andー”

“Woh, woh, slow down, Semi-Semi!! It’s fine, we’ve been here for hours already anyway, and the entrance fees aren’t that expensive. No worries, okay? Let us worry about the rest.” Tendou says, cheerful, “We’ll text the others to let them know we’re leaving. We can always reschedule for another time, alright?”

“Done.” Reon smiles, waving his phone, ‘Shiratorizawa Volleyball Club’ chat open and rapidly flooding with texts from everyone. “Let’s go.” 

ー

Luckily, and unsurprisingly, the bus is perfectly on time, and Semi doesn’t even have the time to register that he’s an eighteen year-old being offered a piggy-back ride from another eighteen year-old. He couldn’t care less. Instead, once he’s on the bus, he drifts, drained.

ー

“Anyone here for Semi Eita?”

Tendou, Reon and Ushijima are quick to reach the doctor, wide-eyed. “How is he!?”

She smiles, “Your friend will be okay, nothing to worry about. He was terribly dehydrated and overall exhausted, courtesy of the raging viral gastroenteritis he has. The nurses gave him an IV to pump some fluids into his system, and once it’s done, I’m going to prescribe him some probiotics to help with the infection and he’ll be free to leave.”

“Can we see him?” Tendou frets, “Is there anything else we should do? Are you sure he’s okay?”

The doctor nods, her expression firm and reassuring. “Viral infections are extremely common, we treat thousands of similar cases each day. I promise you, Semi-san will be okay. And yes, you may see him, of course. Come with me, please.” 

The three follow the kind doctor quietly as she leads them to Semi’s bed, in the ER, the thin curtains between his and other patients’ beds being his only source of privacy. 

Upon seeing them, Semi sits up, grinning sheepishly, cheeks tinted in red. “Hey there.” he grins.

His friends chuckle, rapidly making their way toward his bed, ruffling his hair and pushing him around with calculated motions.

He’ll be fine. 

ー ー ー

I got carried away and started researching how to get to the closest hospital from Yagiyama Benyland, a real amusement park in Miyagi. And yeah, the Red Cross Hospital’s real, too, and the bus as well. I had so much fun researching this stuff. So yeah, I hope you liked it, let me know!!

Also, anon, if you have an AO3 tell me so that I can gift this fic to you when I post it there in a few days.

September 2, 2021

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

confiding over cuddles

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Logan, Virgil, background Roman & Remus. Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Analogical, both pre-relationship and during the relationship.  Warnings: Language. First scene has mentions of being outed, religious homophobia, the implication of the f-slur having been used (the actual word is never on the page), and could maybe come across as critical of Christianity although I intend it more as critical of the homophobia. All of this is kept vague and not gone into in great detail. In the second scene, there are a couple of lines that are implied to be suggestive, but no other warnings. Word count: 4657

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

Starlight Universe masterpost

analogical week 2021 start - previous - here - next - masterpost

Summary: Throughout the years, vulnerability has always been easiest for Virgil and Logan while cuddling.

Notes: Day 3 of Analogical Week 2021! @analogicalweek Yes, I’m posting it a day late, but I technically finished it before midnight last night, lol. Takes place in my Starlight Universe, does not need context to read.  Remus uses he/they pronouns in this universe. 

part 1 - nightmares “Virgil?” Logan said quietly, looking up from the textbook he’d spread open on the floor of Virgil’s dorm room.

Virgil flinched, startled in spite of the soft tone and not too eager for conversation. “What?” he mumbled, dragging his headphones off one ear. He wasn’t actually listening to anything—he’d put them on to avoid conversation—but apparently now they were having a conversation anyway.

“I’m sorry if I am overstepping, but you don’t seem like you’re doing okay.” Logan looked up at him with wide, earnest dark brown eyes. “If there is anything I can do to help, I would really like to.”

Virgil heaved a sigh, considering his options. He hadn’t had time to cancel their normal study session, and when Logan had picked up on his distress at the beginning of the visit, Virgil had insisted it was fine and Logan didn’t have to leave. Logan had taken him at his word and settled in, sprawling on Virgil’s floor while Virgil curled up on his bed and hugged his pillow, avoiding homework and everything else too, to wallow about—well. The reason he would have canceled if he’d had five minutes’ more notice.

On the one hand, it was kind of personal, and Logan was a good enough friend (not a crush, not a crush, not a crush—) that he’d certainly be understanding if Virgil said he didn’t want to talk about it.

On the other hand, Logan had offered to help, and the opportunity to seek comfort from a pretty, thoughtful boy with nice hair and eyes and lips and hands and—but this wasn’t a crush, so none of that mattered, obviously—well, regardless, it was a tempting opportunity.

“Can I talk about it?” Virgil asked in a voice that came out smaller and more vulnerable than he intended.

Logan nodded at once, closing his textbook and climbing to his knees. “Is it okay if I come up there?”

Virgil nodded, patted the space on the bed beside himself, and scooted over to make room. Logan joined him, clambering onto the bed and laying down beside him with a good few inches of space between them, propping his chin up on his elbows. “What’s up?” he asked, focusing all his attention on Virgil.

This close proximity had the unintended side effect of shorting out Virgil’s brain for a solid three seconds. “Uh.” He tore his eyes away from Logan’s face. “I… so I have this friend, right? He used to be my best friend. When we were kids. I haven’t really talked to him at all in a few years.”

Logan nodded.

“So, uh.” Virgil hesitated, fidgeting with his phone. “I guess somebody outed me to him. And he wasn’t okay about it.”

Logan sucked in a concerned hiss of air, half-reaching for Virgil’s shoulder and stopping himself partway through the motion. “Are you okay?”

Virgil nodded on instinct, thought about it, and then shook his head. “He texted me out of the blue about it and offered to pray for me.” His voice shook. “And I—I told him no thanks, I like being gay.” He swiped aimlessly back and forth on his homescreen, opening a folder of apps and then closing it, just so he had something else to focus on than the words he was saying. “He got mad. Called me a—a, a… you know.”

“Oh my god,” Logan murmured in a hushed, horrified tone, and this time he did put his hand on Virgil’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “I’m so sorry, Virgil.”

Virgil let out a little hiccup of a laugh that held no humor but was a way to avoid bursting into tears. He drew the back of his hand across his eyes. “I blocked his number right before you got here,” he mumbled.

Logan nodded. “Good.”

“But he’s been messaging me on Instagram this whole time,” Virgil added with a grimace. “I haven’t been opening them, but…” Right on cue, a notification banner popped up across the top of his screen, previewing a message that contained more of the same stuff he’d been seeing flash across his screen for the last half hour.

“Block him there too,” Logan said instantly. “He doesn’t deserve your time.”

Virgil brushed at the corners of his eyes, swiping away the tears that were threatening to accumulate. “I—I don’t want to open it,” he admitted, voice cracking. “If I open the app, I know I’m going to read all of the messages, and I don’t want to.”

Logan was already shaking his head. “No, don’t read them, oh my god—please don’t read them, please don’t hurt yourself like that.”

“I don’t want to,” Virgil repeated, burying his face in the bedcovers for just a second to hide the tears he couldn’t quite hold back.

Logan’s hand cautiously crept from his shoulder to his back, where it began rubbing soothing circles between his shoulderblades. “Is there any way I can help?” he asked after a moment, his voice almost calm enough to hide his own distress. “I could block him for you, if you want. That way you wouldn’t have to handle the app at all.”

Virgil considered this. He didn’t like the idea of others going through his phone, ever, full stop. But he really didn’t like the idea of opening the Instagram app himself and seeing the little red notification in the corner and inevitably clicking it against all his common sense and scrolling through the messages, reading them over and over again, and maybe trying to reason with the guy about Virgil’s own humanity, even though all that would do was invite a dozen more paragraphs of hurt to read and internalize and argue about, and it would only turn into a vicious cycle of never-ending emotional damage. Not ideal.

And he trusted Logan. He still didn’t like the idea of handing Logan his unlocked phone, but it was a lot less bad than the idea of pretty much anyone else having that access, and it was probably way less bad than trying to do it himself and just hoping he’d somehow have the willpower to leave well enough alone when he knew he didn’t trust himself to do that.

“Can I watch you do it?” he asked, turning his head to the side so he could make suddenly-tired eye contact.

“Of course,” Logan said gently. “Whatever makes you feel most comfortable.”

Virgil worried at his bottom lip with his teeth for a moment, then unlocked the phone with a quick hard press of his thumb and passed it to Logan, wincing slightly.

“Instagram?” Logan asked, finger hovering over the app and waiting for Virgil’s confirmation.

“Yeah,” Virgil said.

Logan opened the app and, waiting at each step for Virgil’s next instruction, blocked the guy without opening any of the messages sitting in Virgil’s DMs. “Does he have any other accounts?”

“I don’t think so,” Virgil mumbled.

“I’m glad. Are there any other methods he has of contacting you that you’d like to block him on?” Logan offered the phone back.

Virgil accepted it gratefully, his shoulders untensing a little. “I guess Snapchat.” He looked up the account and blocked it. “I deleted my Facebook ages ago.” He drummed his fingers on his lips, thinking. “I don’t have a ton of social media, I think that’s everything.”

Logan nodded, visibly relaxing. “Do you need anything? Any kind of support, or anything?”

“I dunno,” Virgil mumbled. He rolled over onto his back. “It just… it sucks.”

“It really does,” Logan agreed.

Virgil forced out a dry chuckle. “Guess I didn’t need that many friends, anyway,” he said, trying hard to make the situation into something amusing. It didn’t particularly work. “It’s not like most people like me, what’s one less?”

“I like you!” Logan protested, his voice much louder than it had been for the last ten minutes. He froze, looking anywhere but Virgil’s face. “I, I like you a lot. You’re a very good friend,” he added, fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve, his expression flustered.

Virgil set that aside to overthink for ages later. “Uh. Thanks. You—you too,” he managed.

They were both very quiet for a moment, Logan’s fidgeting only increasing as Virgil chewed anxiously on the inside of his cheek.

“Is there anything you need right now?” Logan asked again, just as the tension between them began to become uncomfortable.

Virgil let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I don’t know… are you busy?”

“Not until my next class, which is at noon tomorrow,” Logan assured him.

“I don’t want to be a bother—”

“I enjoy spending time with you, and you are clearly distressed and I’d like to help if I can,” Logan interrupted, “and you are my friend and I care about you very much, and it is not bothering me to ask whatever you want. If I want to say no, I will.”

Well. He had covered all his bases when it came to anticipating Virgil’s hesitations.

“Would you mind staying for a bit?” Virgil blurted. “To help me keep my mind off it? I—I don’t want to be alone. I think too much.”

Logan’s expression softened into something so tender it almost hurt to look at. “Of course,” he agreed easily. “As long as you like.”

“Thank you,” Virgil whispered.

“Anytime.” Logan fidgeted with his sleeve a bit more, not looking at Virgil. “Um. Would you like to cuddle?” he asked hesitantly after a minute.

Virgil wasn’t sure he’d heard that right. “What?”

“There are several physiological and neurological benefits to—” Logan began, determinedly not looking at Virgil’s face.

“No, I believe you,” Virgil interrupted, and in a surge of daring, added: “Sure.”

Logan blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise. “Oh! Alright.” He shifted closer, carefully closing the gap between them like he was afraid of doing it wrong, and arranged himself against Virgil’s side with his head on Virgil’s shoulder and his arm draped across Virgil’s chest.

Virgil’s own arm curled around Logan easily, like it was meant to go there. Virgil ignored (mostly) his rapid heartbeat and how soft Logan’s hair was where it brushed against his cheek.

“Do you want to know something totally stupid?” Logan asked.

“Sure,” Virgil said, wondering where this was going.

“I’m scared of the space under my bed.” Logan half chuckled.

Virgil blinked. That had been kind of out of the blue. “What?”

“I’ve tried to rationalize it away. I know it doesn’t make sense.” Logan sounded half amused, like maybe he was trying to cover up some mild embarrassment with humor. “But ever since I was a little kid, it’s scared me. It was worse when I was little, I would have nightmares about it and everything. But it still makes me kind of nervous to just have empty space there. I like to fill it up.”

“That’s fair,” Virgil said. He understood irrational fears. “How come you’re telling me, though? Like, not in a judgemental way,” he added quickly, feeling Logan’s shoulders tense just slightly. “Just wondering where that came from.”

“Ah.” Logan relaxed again. “I am attempting vulnerability. You just shared what seemed like a pretty personal moment with me, and I know that can feel uncomfortable. I am trying to level the playing field a little.”

Virgil couldn’t help but smile. “That’s really sweet, Lo,” he said.

“I am just trying to be a good friend.” Logan shrugged one shoulder, but Virgil could hear the happy note in his voice.

“I was scared of going places by myself when I was little,” Virgil said. “Actually, that came from a nightmare, too.” He laughed a little.

“No, hey!” Logan protested. “Now it’s uneven again!”

“I don’t think that’s how vulnerability works,” Virgil told him, only teasing a little bit. “Friendship isn’t math, it doesn’t have to match on both sides. Besides, I got over that one, mostly. It’s all good.”

Logan nodded slowly in acceptance, rubbing his thumb back and forth across Virgil’s shoulder. “Alright.” He half sat up, but only took his glasses off and reached to put them on the sidetable, then lay back down, cuddling up even more cozily against Virgil once again, making a small noise of content.

“What have you been up to lately?” Virgil asked, his voice hardly above a whisper, because he needed there to be some kind of conversation. Not just to distract himself from the unpleasant stuff of earlier, although that was still a part of it, but also so that he could avoid examining the current situation too hard. Because Logan was just a friend, just a friend, and Virgil couldn’t afford to risk ruining a friendship as wonderful as this one with a big gay crush on his friend.

“Getting used to my new board position in the astronomy club,” Logan said. “And a lot of reading for my classes.”

“You’re the Vice President this year, right?” Virgil asked. Almost without thinking about it, he raised his hand to stroke Logan’s hair, which was just as soft against his fingertips as it had felt against his cheek.

Logan let out a soft sigh of content at the touch, nestling his head a little more snugly against Virgil’s shoulder, and coincidentally fucking melting Virgil’s heart into a puddle of goo. This whole not-a-crush thing was getting to be a serious problem.

“Yes, I’m the Vice President,” Logan confirmed. “I was the secretary last year, so I kind of know the ropes, but I have very different responsibilities this time. So that’s been interesting.”

“Tell me about it,” Virgil invited.

Logan did tell him about it, and then he asked Virgil what he’d been up to, and Virgil got to talk about a research project he was helping one of his favorite professors out with, and that led to telling each other stories about their favorite professors and classes (and some of the bad ones, too), and that led to stories about their friends, and Logan was looking up at Virgil with a soft gaze that Virgil could have stared into forever, and he really didn’t know what was up with Logan of all people’s sudden desire to cuddle, but he wasn’t asking questions because this was kind of the best thing that had happened in forever.

When, much later, the conversation slowly died down and Logan’s voice trailed off into a sleepy noise that he stifled against Virgil’s shoulder, scrunching his whole face up into a yawn, Virgil only tugged at the piled-up blanket he was leaning against until it half-covered the pair of them. Maybe the more responsible thing to do would have been to rouse Logan so he could go home to his apartment, but when Logan shifted closer to him and held him a little tighter, his eyes drifting shut, Virgil couldn’t find it in himself to regret it.

And he’d meant for it to only be a brief nap, really he had. He hadn’t planned to drift off himself as well. He could’ve sworn he only closed his eyes for a second or two—but when he opened them, sunlight was streaming through the window, and Logan was still there, still in Virgil’s arms cuddled close against his chest. Logan was wide awake now, but he seemed perfectly content to just lie there and examine Virgil’s face, a funny look in his eyes and a tiny smile on his lips.

“Hi,” Virgil said blearily, blinking at him. Then he processed where they were and what had happened. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I should have woken you up,” he began, half sitting up, his voice coming out a sleepy mumble that probably wasn’t anywhere near intelligible.

“No, it’s fine,” Logan assured him, gently pushing him back down. “I don’t mind.”

Virgil was half of a mind to keep apologizing, but it was very warm and he was still barely awake and Logan was so soft and nice, so all in all it was much easier to just lie there and accept the cuddles.

“Are you doing better?” Logan asked quietly.

It took Virgil a minute to fully remember the events of yesterday and figure out what he was referencing. “Oh. Uh, I guess. Like, it still sucks, but I’m going to be okay, you know? And this is nice, anyway.”

Logan nodded, resting his head on Virgil’s chest as if to listen to his heartbeat. “Yes. This is very nice.”

[4 years later]

part 2 - dreams  “Come to bed,” Logan said. “You have been scrolling through Tumblr for the past twenty-seven minutes, you can do that just as well while snuggling me.”  

“I’ve been attacked,” Virgil said lightly, shutting off his laptop and turning around to face his boyfriend. Logan was sitting in bed in his pajamas, leaning back against the headboard of their bed, a book in his hands and the covers pulled up over his lap. Virgil smiled. “Let me go brush my teeth and then I’ll come cuddle you, babe.”

“Acceptable,” Logan agreed with an answering smile, his eyes flicking up briefly from the pages to meet Virgil’s own.

Virgil brushed his teeth in the little bathroom of the apartment Logan had shared with the twins in the two years since they’d all graduated college. Before reemerging, Virgil changed into the old t-shirt and flannel pajama pants he’d brought with him—he usually stayed overnight on the weekends these days, and this one was no exception.

Roman, sitting at the kitchen table poring over a wad of papers that were probably a script from the local community theatre’s latest production, waved at Virgil as he exited the bathroom. “G’night, Virge,” he called.

“Night, Ro,” Virgil responded, and for good measure, he added, “night, Remus.”

Remus, somewhere out of sight, cackled. “Have fun getting—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Virgil interrupted automatically, without any real bite, making his way back into Logan’s room and shutting the door behind himself.

Logan smiled at the sight of him, pulling back the covers invitingly. Virgil snagged his phone off of Logan’s desk on his way over, climbing into the bed and curling up with his head in Logan’s lap.

Logan let out a small, pleased sigh, resting his hand on Virgil’s shoulder.

“Happy?” Virgil asked, reaching up to touch Logan’s face.

Logan nodded. “Very.”

Virgil chuckled and half sat up so he could reach to kiss Logan, then settled himself back where he’d been and unlocked his phone, scrolling through Tumblr without paying too much attention. Logan’s hand came to rest lightly on the back of his head, and after a moment began stroking his hair.

He turned a page, then after a minute closed the book and set it down.

Virgil looked up. His boyfriend was gazing down at him, face scrunched up just slightly the way it always did when he was thinking hard about something.

“You good?” Virgil asked.

Logan started slightly. “Oh! Yes.” His hand, which had drifted to a stop at the base of Virgil’s skull, resumed gently stroking Virgil’s hair.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Virgil asked.

Logan was quiet for a beat, then met Virgil’s eyes. “Would you like to get married?”

Virgil choked on air. “What?”

“Married,” Logan repeated, a little shy this time. “You and I. Would you be interested in doing that?”

“I—” Virgil found himself at a loss for words. “I don’t know? Maybe?” He sat up, shutting off his phone and setting it on the sidetable. “I’m sorry—are you proposing to me in our pajamas?”

“No,” Logan said emphatically, frowning. “This is not a proposal. This is so we can talk about it ahead of time, so that if you do want it, then you won’t need to be anxious when I do propose.”

Virgil blinked, processing that. “Wow.” He reached over and brushed his thumb lightly across Logan’s cheek. “I love you so much, you know that?”

Logan’s brow smoothed out and his shoulders visibly untensed. “I love you too.” He put his hand over Virgil’s where it rested on his cheek, cradling it tenderly. He closed his eyes. “And you don’t need to have an answer right now. We can have this conversation whenever you like. I just… wanted to bring it up. Because I would like that, if you are also amicable.” He turned his head slightly and pressed a kiss to the palm of Virgil’s hand.

Virgil hooked a finger in the collar of Logan’s pajama shirt and drew him close for a soft kiss. “Come lay down and cuddle me properly, nerd.”

Logan obediently set his book down on the sidetable beside Virgil’s phone, pulled off his glasses, and set those down too. With some shuffling of limbs, the two of them lay down, Virgil curled up in Logan’s arms. To anyone else, Logan would have seemed perfectly relaxed, content to lay there and press the occasional kiss to Virgil’s forehead; but Virgil could sense the slight tension in Logan’s face. He was nervous, even if he was trying hard not to show it.

Virgil’s own thoughts were whirling. Did he want to get married? He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. But they were both still so young. Marriage was so big. Even if they’d been dating for more than four years at this point, that was barely more than a blip in the really long run. And what if they found out too late that they disagreed on something important? What if Logan wanted to take out a huge mortgage, or move across the country, or have kids? (Okay, they’d talked about kids, and both felt super hesitant, not-yet-ready at best, about the whole idea. But what if Logan changed his mind?)

(But also… waking up to Logan’s face every morning. Waking up to coffee with Logan and sleepy yawns. Casual touches on the elbow or shoulder or wrist or waist or cheek throughout the day, little reminders of love that were almost thoughtless in their routine. A home that would be just theirs. They could get a pet, if they wanted. They could paint stars on the ceiling or walls. They could cook dinner together every night. They could stay up late watching old TV shows and making snarky commentary back and forth. They could be each other’s home.)

Logan was watching Virgil’s face intently, even as he did his best to play it cool. Virgil met his eyes. “So,” he began, struggling to find the right words for what he wanted to convey. “I—I don’t know what I want. Or. I guess I kind of do. But I’m nervous.”

“We don’t have to,” Logan said quickly. “I mean. Obviously. But I don’t want you to—to feel pressured, or anything, to say anything one way or the other or to have to even say anything at all or—”

“Hey,” Virgil interrupted soothingly as Logan’s voice sped into anxious overdrive. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Logan sucked in a breath. He nodded. “I—sorry.”

Virgil shook his head and leaned across the few inches between them to kiss Logan. “Babe, I just told you I’m nervous. It’s fine if you are too.”

“I’m not nervous—” Logan began. He cut himself off at the wry look Virgil gave him. “I—okay, fine. But it’s not a big deal.”

“Hmm, disagree.”

“But the whole point was so I could support you if you felt—”

“L. Babe. Light of my life. You get nervous when you’re vulnerable. I get it.”

Logan bit his lip and reached for Virgil’s hand. He held it tightly.

Virgil squeezed back and snuggled closer under the covers. “Anyway, uh.” He paused for a second to make sure he knew how he wanted to say it. “I—I still don’t know exactly what I want to say about that idea. But I know the answer is definitely not a no.”

Logan breathed in, not quite sharply enough to be a gasp. “Oh,” he breathed, letting go of Virgil’s hand so he could caress his face.

“Does that make sense?” Virgil asked. “Like, I don’t yet know how or when I want it. But I—I think I want to, eventually, and I really want it to be you.”

“Yeah,” Logan said, his voice coming out a little choked. “Yeah, that—that’s good.”

Virgil half smiled. “Kiss?” he asked.

Logan was reaching for him before he even finished the word, pulling him close and clinging to him as he kissed the breath from Virgil’s lungs like he never wanted to let go. Virgil wrapped his own arm around Logan, holding him just as tightly, and cupped Logan’s face with the hand that was trapped between the two of them.

“I love you,” Virgil whispered as they pulled apart, and now he was choking up a little too.

Logan pressed their foreheads together. “I love you so much.”

They were both quiet for a moment, holding each other close.

“I think it’d be nice to get one of those really fancy coffee machines,” Virgil whispered after a minute. “Someday. For our someday kitchen.” He enjoyed Logan’s sudden intake of breath and the way his eyes widened slightly at the word our. “The kind that can make espresso, and shit,” Virgil went on. “We could try out all different kinds of things. And I wouldn’t tell anybody how much sugar you always put in your coffee.”

“I put a normal amount of sugar in my coffee,” Logan protested, a smile quirking onto his face.

“L, I love you, but that is maybe the least true thing you have ever said in your life.” Virgil snickered.

“Shut up,” Logan whined, pushing lightly at Virgil’s shoulder with an answering grin.

Virgil leaned in and kissed his cheek. “It’s cute.” He hesitated for a beat. “What would you want? In your dream future?”

“You,” Logan responded immediately.

Virgil pressed a hand to his mouth. He absolutely should have seen that one coming, but he hadn’t, and the surprise made the pang of fondness in his chest all the sweeter. “Logan,” he managed after a minute.

Logan only grinned, looking very pleased with himself. “A coffee machine does sound very nice, too, though,” he added. “And space for you to keep an instrument.”

“Oh,” Virgil breathed, lighting up at the idea. “Yeah, that sounds really good. I’d want a library for all your stupid nerdy books.”

Logan put a hand on Virgil’s cheek. “I’d want a kitchen table that we both picked out together.”

Virgil grinned. “A couch to hold you on.”

“A wall full of art that we both like.”

“Windows so there’s light everywhere and you can see the stars at night.”

“A pantry full of our favorite foods.”

“A bed to—”

“Virgil!”

“Whaaat?”

“We were being cute!” Logan smacked his arm lightly. “Remus is a bad influence on you,” he accused, though Virgil could see he was trying not to laugh.

“I mean, probably,” Virgil allowed, grinning. “But maybe I was just going to say a bed to sleep in. And cuddle in. And perfectly innocent things like that. Maybe you’re the one Remus is a bad influence on.”

“I—” Logan struggled for a second, then broke down into snickers.

Virgil grinned, wrapping his arms around Logan’s waist and enjoying the sound of his laughter.

“Were you going to say something like that, though?” Logan asked, composing himself.

“Oh, no, absolutely not.” Virgil snickered. “You were right, I was going to ruin the cutesy vibe we had going on there, one hundred percent. But you’re really cute when you laugh, so no regrets.”

“Hmm,” Logan hummed, leaning closer. “You know when else I’m really cute?”

“When?” Virgil breathed.

“When I’m kissing you,” Logan murmured, and closed the gap between their lips.

Virgil kissed back, eyes fluttering shut and hands sliding a little more securely around Logan’s waist. In his opinion, Logan made a very compelling point.

[aliypop]

For All Time Always

Wordcount: 2,514

Warning: Some angst

A/N: I just wanted to write some Soft Astrid and Loki because I was inspired by @lokislittlesigyn headcanons for snuggly Loki, so I hope you enjoy. Because oof the fluff

"And that is why..." a loud crash coming from the palace hallways, "And that is why..." Odin tried to start back up again as his gaze motioned to the commotion of sound, "If you'll excuse me," he sighed as Amidala nodded along with the rest of the realm leaders, hoping that her children weren't the cause of the interruption. Several guards stood in front of the treasure room as Thor, Loki, Astrid, and Isabasia stood there scheming a way to get in. "We'll do get help." Thor smirked, lifting his brother as Loki pouted, "What exactly is get help?" Loki asked, his crown nearly being smooshed by his brothers. 

"Well, I'll say help my brothers dying and-" 

"And then Wha- AAAAAAH!" 

CLASH!

Astrid giggled as Isabasia smiled, "Oh, we have something similar, except I do this!" Isabasia turned herself invisible as she carried Astrid past the guards and threw her right next to Loki, who she landed in his lap, "Seems Astrid and Loki are close enough to kiss each other!" Thor teased as Isabasia joined in with him,

 "Disgusting..." both Astrid and Loki slid away from each other as their hands both brushed against each other, 

" I'd rather kiss a frog!" Astrid growled as Loki began to croak, jumping on her shoulder, his mucus-covered green skin grossing her out. Astrid flung him across the room as he transformed back, holding a blue cube in hand. 

BANG!

"That was very uncalled for!" he growled as spits of green fizzled at his fingertips, "Oh yeah! What will you do? Turn into a snake and stab me!" Astrid snapped, blasting him with her magic, both Thor and Isabasia no longer present to witness the situation before them. The two still fighting before they heard the clearing of throats, both Astrid and Loki found their parents disapproving glares at the mess they had made.

"You vile snake!" Astrid laughed, finding a note amongst her dresser. The two were now in their mid-teens, the age where romance was not to be taken ever so lightly. Sitting in the garden reading was Loki, who had stolen Astrid's mothers' amulet, the one to be awarded to her on the day of her official engagement to Thor, 

"You two tongued wet weasel..." Astrid smirked, sitting amongst the lavender plants that Frigga loved so dearly, "That's a new one. I'll have to write it down," he focused on his book as she walked over, taking a seat in his lap, causing him to gain color in is ivory tone. His eyes focused on her brown skin. And the curl of lips, the way her hair was unraveling from her self-made braids, he wanted nothing more than to make her his, and he'd do everything in his power to do so.

 "Loki..." 

"Loki..."

"Loki!"

"What?" 

"Is something on your mind." Astrid asked as she laid her head on his shoulder, basking in the Asgardian sun as the Fall was soon coming to the realm, "Whomever wins your heart shall be ever so lucky." he sighed as Astrid turned to face him, his alluring eyes gleaming, as he soon looked away blush creeping up to his cheeks as Astrid only hummed, 

"Why do you say?" Astrid asked as Loki scratched the back of his neck, "Well... uh... well... Because they will." he stammered. Astrid laughed, being that she had never seen Loki so lost for words, his hands wrapped around her waist stabilizing her so she wouldn't fall over. No longer concentrated on his book. His eyes were all focused on her, 

"You are worth more than any jewel ever."

"Is that why you stole my mother's amulet..." Astrid asked, searching through his pockets as he swatted at her hands playfully, "What if I didn't take it..." he smirked, flipping her over on her back, her dark curls kissing the grass flowers surrounding her. "Then what was the note on my dresser for," she questioned as Loki gulped, 

"To catch your attention..." he looked down, 

"Loki, you always have my attention." she wrapped his arm around her waist as she wiggled into his chest, taking in his scent, as he rolled over to get a better angle as to what Astrid was doing, 

"You oaf, you're going to squish me!" she groaned as Loki chuckled, her heart fluttering at the sound,

"What was that?" 

"I said get off..." 

"No... no, you called me an oaf. Which means you should apologize." he winked as Astrid averted her gaze,

 "I'm sorry-"

"As you mean it." he grinned.

"My humble prince of Asgard, Son of Odin, Rightful King of Asgard, I deeply apologize." she laughed as pushing him away the two rolling down a hill, Astrid landing on top of him, 

"Now tell me why this lack of me not having your attention." she asked, bringing the topic back, "You've been paying attention to Thor lately..." he sighed as Astrid placed her thumb on his cheek, "And smiling at him, and... As your best friend..." the hurt in both their eyes at the sound of that phrase,  Loki and Astrid were past best friends by the people of Asgard and Vanaheim, sure they slept in the same beds together since they were ten and had always made the other smile since they were eight, but always there for each other to talk, they were soulmates the very thing that Frigga told them about,

"I just don't want to be forgotten..." 

"Loki, how could I forget you. You're my best friend, my reason I love you."

"Astrid..."

"Hmm..." 

"Don't say things that make me want to kiss you..." he stared at her lips. As she pulled him by his crown, their lips meeting, the bliss as sweet as honey and as beautiful as any song.

"Be mine..." 

"I can't..." 

 The fall winds blew on Asgard as the stars shone, the village peppered with vending carts and lights. Thor was taste testing ale for the Harvest Festival, which brought most of the realms together.

 Taking a sip of mead from her goblet was Astrid, her eyes focusing on the decorations that the Vanir made the only thing reminding her of home, 

"Does your mother know you drink..." soft hands touching her waist, 

"No, she doesn't," Astrid giggled   lips to her ear, "What would your mother say if she found you so full..." Loki winked. Tilting her chin up, 

"She'd say absolutely nothing because you are not to tell her..." Astrid gave him a burst of laughter sweeter than all the honey of Asgard, just like her kisses.

 "Oh but, I might..." he leaned in closer to her, their foreheads touching,

 "Then I'll tell Odin you took me away from Thor..." she whispered, stealing a kiss from him.

"You cheeky Minx.." he laughed.

"Maybe I am." she giggled, stumbling a bit, not use to the high levels of alcoholic intake of the Aesir. 

"A small tip... though," Loki whispered, helping her stand

"What's that..." Astrid asked

"Gold isn't Thor's complementary color. It's red." he laughed as she smirked, "Perhaps, I wore this for you," draped in greens and golds stood Loki, who couldn't get enough of her, although they both knew that what they were doing was wrong. It felt right after all Thor was still allowed to drink, fight, flirt and be an acclaimed sex God by the talks of Fandral and Lady Sif, who told Astrid all of his stories to keep her company when her mother and father were fighting. So she figured why not have her fun too. 

Astrid stood on top of the table singing, all the while Thor looked at her almost in the glance of a disruptive child,

But the trees dance, and the waterfalls stop

when she sings, she sings Come home

When she sings, she sings Come home

Astrid hiccuped as she sang amongst the Asgardians, her mug of ale sloshing around as she later dropped it. "ANOTHER ...That is how you do it here..." she asked Loki as he nodded, "ANOTHER FOR EVERYONE!" she shouted as she threw her cup down, drunkenly kissing Loki as her sights saw Thor leave with Isabasia sister, who couldn't even say hello to her. 

Isabella smiled, her brown skin complimenting the crimson red dress that Ashton had made from the purest of silk farmed from Egypt, her hair down wearing the crown of her mother, and eyes looking away from the crowd, 

"You look beautiful, like ..."

"Like what..." 

"A flower that only blooms in the gardens that only the rivers know." Thor took her by the hand, twirling her into his arms much as he did when they were younger, but they were older now, sure not enough to rule, but enough to know that they were in love. Isabasia placed her hand on his cheek leaning in to kiss him, 

"Your mother must be worried. It is getting late..." Loki smiled, helping Astrid down, "I've got a better idea..." she smirked. Drunken giggles filled the halls of Asgard as royal guards walked by. Holding her shoes and sliding down the floors were Astrid and Loki. As giggles turned into erupt fits of laughter. A guard stopped in his tracks, causing  Loki to turn into Thor, picking up Astrid. Loki turned to the guard, 

"Who goes there."  he demanded, looking at "Thor" and his assumed mistress for the night.

"You see, my fiance... She had a lot to drink and is tired."

"Very tired.." She giggled, letting a yawn out.

"Of course, my lord, but why the throne room?"

"It was her request," he winked, kissing her neck as Astrid bit her lip. 

"Grant me this night before I return," Isabasia asked her voice in a needy tone, the two passing the throne room as the guards standing there rubbed his eyes, watching as they later went up the stairs. Leading to his chambers,

"Astrid .... You'll learn to love him, just as Frigga learned to love Odin..." Amidala smiled, placing her crown on her daughter's head, "And maybe you'll forget all about this foolish Loki..." she snarled at his name as she went to cover the ungodly bite marks on her neck, "And grow up for the better..." she mumbled under her breath, 

"Besides ... it's coronation day, which makes it  official for."

"My engagement to Thor the most miserable day of my life..." she said under her breath, her dress covered in the finest of jewels, of reds and yellows, placing the emerald earrings in her ear from Loki. She sighed, remembering how his touch felt on her skin, the way he treated her,

"I almost forgot one more thing..." 

"What's that..." Astrid asked as her mother took out her gold and red amulet necklace from its box, "Your grandmother gave it to me the day of my coronation engagement, and now I pass it to you."  she smiled, her heart content on Astrid making an even better name for their family,

almost everyone in the nine realms flooded the throne room of the palace. While Thor gloated and boasted down towards the Throne, Astrid kept her eyes on Loki, who had a look of disinterest on his face towards his brother, who was also treating Mjolnir as a party trick. Frigga, who stood next to Amidala, only laughed at her child's immaturity while Astrid was slowly shutting down her mind remembering what she and the prince of Asgard did the night before. She could still feel the lingering sense of his tongue and the pleasurable ache from his every thrust, but her heartfelt glee of every praise he had ever given her.  As Thor kneeled to his father, Loki gave a quick wink to Astrid, who blushed back. Odin stood up, cheers still, radiant, while the warriors 3 waved at Astrid. Who wanted to crawl in a ball and die. 

"Thor Odinson... my heir... my firstborn so long and trusted with the mighty hammer Mjolnir forged in the heart of a dying star," Odin said while Astrid looked up at Frigga, a tear in her eye. Loki wanted to do everything in his right to take her away, but he knew that after tonight she would no longer be his. 

"Do you swear to guard all nine realms?"

"I swear."

"Do you swear to preserve the peace?" Odin looked over at Astrid, 

"I... Swear," she responded.

"Do you swear to cast aside all selfish ambition and to pledge yourself only to the good of the realm?"

Thor glanced at Loki, "I swear!"

"Then on this day, I Odin All-Father proclaim you..." he paused almost as if he were sensing something, 

"Frost giants..." Odin growled as everyone evacuated the palace. Both Thor and Loki followed Odin as Sif, the warriors three, and Astrid drew their weapons fighting the frost giants. Amidala looked at her daughter in disgust. Fighting wasn't originally what a princess was supposed to do, but here she was fighting beside warriors and Loki instead of making sure her "beloved" was okay. 

After the events of an almost coronation, the royal dinner slowly sizzled down. There stood Thor, who was standing behind Astrids chair. 

"I know..." he glared at his soon-to-be queen, 

"You know what..." she asked, still eating, refusing to meet his gaze. 

"You've been cheating on me for my brother..." his tone cold as Astrid dropped her fork, 

"It's not what it-" Astrid tried to say. 

"You sneak into his chambers at night, the glances, how long has this been going on!" Thor asked as he flipped the table over. Astrid growled, "Just about as long as you've discovered yourself to be so mighty!" she stood up, her red gown flowing behind her, "You never acted as if you needed me... wine, fighting, and sleeping around with my sister have always been your main concern!" she walked away Thor grabbing her wrist,

 "I am your king..." he snarled. 

"You are but an immature quibbling titmouse... Who will never be king." she laughed, "And, you'll only get yourself killed if you go to Jotunheim..." she freed her wrist, charging off to change into her armor. Heimdall sighed, watching as Thor, Sif, Loki, and the warriors sat at the Bifrost bridge on their horses, as the sound of trotting came among them from afar was a Vanir woman in her mother's old armor. 

"Astrid..." Loki looked up at her.

"Loki..." she squeezed his hand, As he kissed it. The two sitting on the couch of their New York penthouse overlooking the city, boxes still packed as they sat cuddled up together, his arms around her waist, as her body pressed against his, the two watching I love Lucy, a collection borrowed by Wanda.  "Yes, darling..."  he asked, "Do you ever thank the Gods..." she hummed, wearing one of Loki's sweatshirts that said Low Key on it.

"All the time..." he kissed her head, "Especially for having you in my life." Astrid giggled, "Oh, Loki." 

"Let's try get help!

CRASH!

"I'm okay!" 

Both Astrid and Loki looked at each other as they sighed,  "NARFI LOKISON, VALI LOKIDOTTIR!" 

"Uh oh..."

[florencwrites]

all is fair in love〚dreamwastaken〛

in which clay cannot help but desperately promise himself that she will remember him

part 2

"She doesn't know my name, George." A frustrated sigh escaped his lips, almost closer to a huff than a sigh, honestly. His left hand ran over his face, a slight tremble detectable in his movements. His other hand held his phone close to his cheek, both the other sides of the line staying silent.

Hesitation on his breath, George spoke up again, leaving a few seconds for his response, just offering some time for his friend to calm down. "She will, Dream."

"You don't know that." The blonde immediately retorted, rolling his eyes at his friend's pathetic attempt of making him feel better. "Doctor said it could take years."

"Dude, you've been in love with this girl for years, when she didn't even know you existed at all," Sapnap interjected, somehow trying to relieve the tension by cracking a light joke. "I'm sure it'll work out again."

"Took her years to like me back." Clay chuckled, "I was obsessed." His mind was clouded by pictures of her, of them together. When they were just little kids, littering the streets for hours trying to find an agenda. Their teen years, how he hadn't been able to muster up the courage to ask her to prom, for years in a row. Her cheeky smile, expressive eyebrows, and those eyes he loved that much, those eyes that had been shut closed for days now. Fuck, he ran another hand over his face, up through his locks, he would never let her out of his sight again. Not when shit like this happened when he wasn't around. He'd never forgive himself for it, never let himself live it down. His eyebrows folded in agony, once again entirely overtaken by the idea of her not getting better, never becoming her old self anymore.

"Oh, we know, Dream." A slight chuckle breathed through his words, "She's so cute, Nick, AH! She let me hold her hand!" He mimicked his friend with a higher tone of voice, the brit quickly joining in, "GEORGE! She added me back! I'm so pathetically in love with her, George."

"I hate you guys." His voice sounded meek, soft, vulnerable. He loved them with all his heart, always knowing how to lift his mood, how to comfort him when he needed them to. "Thank you, for -uh- everything."

"Yeah dude, of course." Nick's smile was shining through his voice, audible even through the wacky discord call. George kept silent, but it was clear; they'd always be there to help him get through whatever it was, for however long it was needed.

It took three months, two weeks and several days for him to get her to smile again, a few more days after that for a laugh, God knows he could use it. The glint that once occupied her gaze had now retaken its deserved place in her eyes again after all, her eyebrows finally dancing with her expressions once again. A few days ago, she'd even let him hold her hand while they watched TLC on the tiny little television in her hospital room. He'd bugged her about buying her a bigger one every time he came by, which was practically every day, now that he thought about it.

His friends understood that he couldn't join their streams as often as before, they still offered him a spot in their Jackbox lobby every time, and Wilbur took it to himself to make sure he was never left out of the script, even if he bailed on them more often than not. It killed George especially, to see his friend like this, barely eating, sleeping all the time he wasn't spending sitting by her bed. He realized he'd never worried more about anyone than he did about Clay those hazy months. His own channels were suffering greatly, too, but that wasn't even close to being on his mind.

"Hi there." Clay waved slightly, wiggling his fingers nervously as he opened the door to her room. His eyes glanced to hers, a faint smile on her features as she muttered out a greeting. His gaze flickered through the room. He remembered first coming here those weeks ago, the deadly white walls that caged him into his own mind, the panic that wouldn't leave his veins, no matter what he did. He'd sat there for hours, the nurses having to send him home every single day. The lack of personal items making him greatly uncomfortable. Gradually he would take more and more decorations into her room, starting with some flowers, bringing in several stacks of plushies a little later. George, Nick, and Darryl had decided to get together and get her a Switch, naturally, Darryl had convinced them to get the new Animal Crossing for her. Clay decided to throw in some Mario Kart, more for himself than his comatose girlfriend. Then, the news broke on Twitter, and the drawings flooded his PO box, the one he now apparently shared with her. Pictures upon pictures hung on her walls, he even went as far as getting her Christmas lights above her bed, some photos of their childhood, too. At this moment, her eyes had yet to see the light of day since her accident, he did it all in complete silence, perhaps a small part of him didn't just do it for her, but to calm his own nerves a little, too.

But now, she was back. She played his dumb games with him, joked about his awful stubble, and thus, let him hold her hand, too. God, how he had missed the warmth of her fingers with his, anytime she'd let him touch her, shivers ran through his body; goosebumps covering the entirety of his skin. She'd loved the games they had collected for her over the course of these months, playing them daily. And even though she had no idea who these incredibly attentive people were, she knew she cared about them greatly. She'd asked Clay about them several times, even going as far as recording a short voice memo, thanking them for everything they'd done for her and Clay together.

"How've you been?" His mellow voice made her senses tingle, familiarity had settled for a few days now, anytime he spoke she'd get flashes of warmth, radiating through her abdomen. He didn't know this, of course, because what if it was nothing? What if she just set him up for heartbreak once again?

But he, he didn't care. His heart ached for her when they were together, but even more so when they were not. He couldn't help but feel pity for himself some of these days, realizing how pathetic it must look for everyone around him, how often he had sat beside her bed without a single affirmation of recognition, of progress. How often he had interrupted his friends' calls, absolutely heaving with sobs, weeping for it to end, for it all to end. How often he had sat down on the freezing tiles of his shower, trying to drown out his thoughts, especially after the days he wasn't able to drag himself out of bed. The days he had wanted anything but to stay confined to his fucking sheets, the days all he wanted was for her to softly whisper his name, exactly in the way she used to do. The way she'd done when he was playing with her, fucking around, she'd whisper his name in the most loving way he had ever heard a woman do. Her voice was a song he couldn't get out of his head, no matter what melody was playing in the background; she was all that was ever on his mind. All he wanted was for it to fucking end.

That changed, of course, the day she'd finally awoken from her outrageous slumber, the day her pupils met his. Nothing but confusion and utter fear laced in them, he was so thankful for any form of life, he hadn't even noticed what her eyes were really telling him. Her melodic voice filled his ears, bound to echo through his head for the rest of the day, the least. "I've been better."

"That's good, that's good." His toothy smile subconsciously earned her one, too. "You, uh, you watched that show I mentioned?"

"I did!" Her fucking smile made all of it worth it, all his pain and suffering, all he had endured. It had always been just about her and her fucking smile, all along. Since they were children, he reckoned, he hadn't cared about anything as much as he cared about being the one to tug up the corners of her lips.

A hearty chuckle left his lips, his hand slowly hovering over the side of the bed as he finally wrapped her hand in his again, this time her being the one to interlock their fingers. He smiled. "You said," He dropped his head as a giggle escaped him, "You always used to say how you'd give your life to be able to watch it again, like -uh- like it was the first time."

A low hum vibrated through her chest as she tried to hold in her snickers. "You're telling me I almost went braindead for fucking Teen Wolf?" She burst out in hiccuped laughs, trashing her legs around imperceptibly under the scratchy hospital covers. "I need to get my priorities right this time around."

His stomach tightened at her words, she'd always told him about how much she hated that stupid show, but for some reason he always caught her coming back to it any time she felt even the slightest nudge of sadness. Braindead. She was minutes away from being braindead, unsalvageable. His eyebrows furrowed, and he was sure to be subconsciously squeezing her hand a little too much. Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to break the unspoken barrier he had set for himself; don't let her see you cry. "Hey, hey, hey. I'm still here."

She tugged at his hand, offering him her other one as well. He took it, obviously unable to refuse any contact she offered him. He hung over her body a little as he held both of her hands, she pulled his far most one delicately, silently asking for him to stand. And as soon as he did, she pulled him down in a hug, completely engulfing the entirety of his body in hers, only their clothes and the uncomfortable sheets separating them. She wrapped her arms as tightly around him as she could as his soft sobs slowly started filling up the room. The silence was overwhelming, only his whimpers there to break through. Her eyes welled up, too, she'd lie if she said they didn't. He was holding her, wrapping his arms underneath her back, not planning on letting go anytime soon. "I'm still here, Clay."

"Are you?" He muttered against the hoodie she was wearing, his hoodie he had given to her when she'd first woken up and complained about feeling like a lab rat in her stupid gown. He had stupidly told her he would marry her even in her blue-ish hospital gown, which was the most adoring, beautiful thing a man had ever told her, especially would she have recognized him at that time. Alas, he was just a man in her room, nothing more nothing less. "Are you really?"

"I-" She stumbled on her line, completely sure of what it was he was fronting at. "I will be." She decided, "I will be soon."

"I'll wait for however long it takes." His shuddered breath made the hairs in her neck stand up straight against her skin. She closed her eyes, her face still plastered in the crook of his neck, his cologne taking over her senses, his warmth being able to make her feel safer than she had ever felt before. Her voice hadn't ever sounded as painfully vulnerable as it did that second, "It wouldn't be fair -you, for me.." A heavy breath. "It wouldn't be fair for me to expect that from you."

He hushed her gently, another sniffle leaving his nose immediately after. "All is fair in love."

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Winter Whumperland Day 11: Vows

Summary: Written for Winter Whumperland Day 11. Set in a Modern AU, follows up on Day 10 'Ruin'. During the months after his son's disappearance, Stoick has trouble coping and finds himself lost in memories.

Warning: /

Rating: Teen and up

Characters: Stoick, Gobber, Valka, Hiccup, Fishlegs, Dagur, Astrid, Heather, Snotlout, Ruffnut, Tuffnut

Pairing: Past-Hiccstrid

Words: 4 006

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: “Falling Through Ice”

Whumpee: Hiccup, Stoick, Gobber, Valka

Author’s Notes: Okay, so believe it or not, I did finish this one waaay back in December. But I didn't want to post it until I finished Day 12, which then turned out to be so long I needed to divide it into two parts. Day 12 part 2 still isn't finished yet, but after much too long, I did finally have the energy to get through proofreading this one.

So there you have it, here's Day 11 at long last!

Constructive criticism is appreciated.

Enjoy!

Ao3

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It’s through a call in the late morning that Stoick received the news. He was sleeping in for once, something he rarely does as he enjoys waking up early in the morning to get the most work out of a day.

That day, he slept in and it was the ringtone of the smartphone Hiccup made him get that woke him up. He grabbed it and sat up before he answered tiredly.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Haddock, sir?” He recognized the voice as belonging to that of Astrid Hofferson, his son’s girlfriend.

“Yes, lass?” He rubbed in his heavy eyes. How did sleeping in longer make him more than waking up with the sun did?

“We think something’s happened with Hiccup. We think he’s missing.”

It was news Stoick never thought he would ever get to hear and he would’ve thought it a prank, if it wasn’t for the tremble in the girl’s voice. Astrid has always seemed tough to him and a terrible liar, like Hiccup. That was genuine emotion in her tone.

That was how he found out his son was missing.

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In the beginning, there was a fire driving Stoick forwards.

When his son’s friends called to tell him that they hadn’t seen or heard from Hiccup in a worryingly amount of time when he should’ve been taking his dragon home, Stoick was quick to come over.

He met with the five and the dragon, the one Hiccup was supposed to return to the sanctuary he had escaped from just to see his human companion.

He’d gotten their stories in person, spent another couple of hours trying to reach Hiccup, then searched the places he could’ve possibly gone to, even visiting Gobber and calling Valka, neither of which had seen a sign of him either. After a whole night wasted on trying to reach him, Stoick finally went to the police.

The friends had to do their story again, they were taken seriously, Stoick provided with a description and a picture, it was on the news, posters were printed and posted, it was a whole process, but they were fired up and stubborn in bringing him home.

Then days passed with no real news, then weeks, and then months of nothing. Nothing but sick minds who get some sort of kick out prank calling a worried father and grieving friends and girlfriend.

Stoick went out there himself to search for his son. The coffee shop he worked at, his street, the neighboring streets, he searched the entire city for just a single sign of Hiccup. And if he thought the police wasn’t doing enough, he’d hound them into doing more.

In the beginning, there was no short supply of spirit in his desire to find Hiccup, but now it’s been months and he feels like he’s already running on fumes.

He’s not going to stop, he’s never going to stop, but there are days where he can only sit on the couch in a darkened room and nothing more.

It doesn’t help that the holidays are fast approaching and all they do now is add to his sour mood. If Hiccup isn’t found soon, this’ll be his first without his son and that does not sit well with Stoick at all.

But anyway, Gobber is here, too.

“You know, Stoick, you scowl any more, you’re going to scare even me away.” Gobber jokes with him, attempting to lighten the mood with a light joke. The two have been silently and mindlessly watching whatever crosses their way, hoping to chase away any and all thought as they bring them both nothing but pain.

Gobber is heartbroken, too, jokes and faith in their son’s stubbornness used to help him cling to the hope that they’ll see him again.

At first, it was the hope that they’ll see him again soon, nowadays it’s the hope that they’ll see him again someday, whether dead or alive. Because Gobber isn’t a fool, he knows the first few days are very crucial in a missing person’s case, especially the first 24 hours. Isn’t that what those cop shows always claim? Hiccup has already been gone for months.

He wasn’t able to do much in the beginning. When it came to searching for Hiccup out there on the street and surrounding forests, he was only able to come along for so much with a leg and an arm missing. But with jokes, by talking with Stoick, or just keeping him company, he can help the man be less alone in his suffering.

Stoick hasn’t left the house in days, has stopped returning Valka’s call, and Gobber thinks that’s an alarming thing. The last thing his friend needs is to cut himself off from his family and Hiccup’s friends.

Taking his glare off the tv, which he isn’t paying attention to, anyway, Stoick instead scowls at Gobber.

“Do you truly think that I am in the mood for jokes, Gobber?” He asks, not all that happy to deal with Gobber’s attempt at humor, to say the least.

“Only for tasteful ones!” Gobber replies, his cheer still very much intact. Or that’s what he wants Stoick and those friends of Hiccup’s to believe.

Wordlessly, Stoick looks back at the tv. Apparently, they’ve been watching a channel about DIYs, a chair is being constructed in the current program. He hadn’t even noticed before.

Gobber sighs and looks back at the tv, the living room bathing in darkness except for the light from the screen. Once upon a time, he could at least annoy Stoick into interacting with him, now he can’t even accomplish that anymore.

And if he can’t reach Stoick… Well, it does little good for his own mental health.

Though usually a man that likes a clean house, Stoick has really been letting the place go as there are dishes and cans and filth everywhere. Not that Gobber can fault him for that as his own housekeeping isn’t what it used to be, though it’s always been on the messy side.

Stoick hadn’t wanted to see him either, further backing up his worries that his friend is isolating himself from the outside world. It’s only because Gobber insisted by pushing right past him and forced his way into the home that he isn’t alone now.

Gazing at the silent man, he wonders what he’s thinking now.

Stoick is thinking of Hiccup, for sure, he always is these past months. He shuts himself off to avoid the media, to avoid people who will recognize him from the tireless interviews, to avoid being bothered, running into Astrid or any of her and Hiccup’s friends, or coming across any reminders of his son. Gobber guesses those are the reasons that Stoick no longer goes outside and he only wishes the other would let him in.

Gobber’s assumption couldn’t be more right. In his attempt to hide and stop his endless thoughts and worrying, all Stoick does is think and fret and tear himself apart for his failure.

As a father, he’s supposed to protect his child, that has been his duty from the day he and Valka decided to expand their family. He followed through on this while Valka was pregnant with their son, he held him as soon as he could after birth and promised him that he wouldn’t know a single day of strive, and he tried and tried every single day of the boy’s short lived life to make it come true.

Now look where his incompetence has left him, left Hiccup.

And before this, there were at least two more times when he felt, and was, absolutely useless.

The second time was when a dragon attacked his son, scarred his back, and mangled his leg so badly it had to be taken.

The very first, it was during a snowy winter when his son was 12-years-old and that is the particular moment he’s thinking of now.

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“Be careful!” He remembers warning his son that cold afternoon as his friends had come to ask him outside to play, which is slowly devolving into “hanging out” as they age. Not a bad idea, Valka had convinced him and she was still his wife at the time.

Hiccup was a young boy with plenty of friends, he should make use of his childhood while he still can before the inevitable responsibilities of life will whisk him away. He should enjoy himself, that is what Valka said to convince him to let Hiccup outside.

Back then, Oswald, a good friend of Stoick’s, was still alive. Back then, Dagur was still a good boy and Heather was a young girl full of life, who didn’t need to struggle to make ends meet following the loss of her father and her brother’s troubles.

But Stoick knew there was something off about the boy from the beginning. Dagur was too reckless for his tastes, always seeking trouble in some way, never listening to his father. That day, it was Hiccup he dragged down with him.

It was Fishlegs who suddenly stood on his front porch, twiddling his thumbs uncertainly and timidly staring at the ground. Apparently, Astrid had sent him, as Stoick would later find out. She’s always been a smart girl, a girl who doesn’t like to break rules and listens to her parents.

“Um, Mr. Haddock, sir? I think Hiccup’s about to get in a lot of trouble.” For any kid at any age, tattling on your friends never feels good and it doesn’t help that Stoick is so big and scary. The 11-year-old never understood how Hiccup was never scared of him. But Astrid had made him go while she stayed, believing she needed to keep an eye on what she thought was a situation about to get really out of hand.

Tearing their coats off the rack, he and Valka left quickly, the boy guiding them towards the local lake in a forest just outside of town.

They would find that Dagur was the biggest troublemaker in this situation. A much older boy, he’d followed his sister when she left with Astrid.

“Come on, Hiccup! You’re not scared like they are, are you? Get over here!” That was unmistakably young Dagur’s voice that they heard as they approached the lake. Whatever he was hounding their son to do, it couldn’t be anything good.

“Hiccup!” Stoick called out to him the second he spotted him, seeing his small frame on a frozen lake nobody has cleared for use yet and there he was.

Dagurr stood in the middle of it, arms crossed and an impatient look on his face. That is, until he saw the angry and mountainous dad of his target at the banks of the lake together with Hiccup’s mom. And suddenly, he felt like fleeing, having been caught red-handed.

“Mo-Mom? Dad?” Hiccup looked back at his parents, his face and posture betraying that his position isn’t one he put himself in as willingly as it first appeared.

Dagur had been bullying the younger kids, daring them into getting on the ice like he dared to. Kids don’t like to be challenged this way, they don’t like to be made to feel like they can’t do something, like they’re afraid and being afraid makes them a coward. Nobody wants to be seen as anything but brave. But Hiccup, he merely wanted to “prove himself” to end this charade and convince him to get off.

Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Snotlout, Astrid, and Heather, too, looked uncomfortable with the situation. They knew it was bad, even the first three who are troublemakers themselves.

“Hiccup, come on! Come back!” Astrid shouted towards him, but he was too stubborn to leave, still waiting on Dagur to get off the ice first.

He wasn’t ready to give up on him yet, not even with his own well-being on the line. He cared too much about others, he has always cared too much. Three years in the future, it might contribute to Dagur’s future obsession with him. His mother has left him, his father would, too, then, but Hiccup hadn’t.

Looking away from his terrified parents to gaze back at Dagur again, he shuffles ever closer while trembling in fright. He can hear and feel the lake cracking in warning beneath his feet.

“Dagur, I’m-I’m-I’m here-I’m here now, can we-can we go back?” He asked with a tremble and tears of stress in his eyes. He wanted to go back so badly, but he refused to go alone.

“Um-” The older boy’s bravado from before was entirely gone, his gaze moved from Hiccup to his father nervously.

“Yes, you two can! And you better come back quickly! Dagur, your father will hear of this!” Stoick couldn’t hear the ice straining, but that didn’t make him any less urged to get those two boys on solid ground.

“Dagur!” Heather shouts, sniffing.

“Dagur, please, you’re only putting yourself in danger! Come back to shore and everything will be okay.” Valka took a less consequential stance, something Stoick looked at her in disagreement for.

“Oh-okay,” Dagur quietly replied, spooked by Hiccup’s parents, and shuffled his way cautious off the lake.

It was only then, when he saw Dagur safely on the banks, that Hiccup could breathe easy and return, too.

“And now you, my brave boy, come here!” Valka stretched her hands out, causing him to smile.

Stoick didn’t plan on being as encouraging as his wife was being, fuming. Their 12-year-old was recklessly risking his life and for what? If he wants to be a hero, he should do it without endangering himself as well.

“I’m-I’m coming!” Hiccup called back, happy that he no longer needed to be here.

But as his luck would have it, just like he will somehow attract the attention of two obsessed men in a span of only three years, he had to be the one to fall through the ice.

Slowly, he moved closer to his friends and parents, the thin layer of ice under his feet cracking beneath his feather-light weight. No matter how much he moved from the spot, the cracks followed him and they grew bigger and they multiplied quickly. He was so scared, dying to reunite with his parents again. They were right there and yet so far away.

And then it breaks and he sinks into the freezing water below with a shriek that is cut short.

“Hiccup!” Everyone shouted as they watched him disappear.

Stoick will remember this incident as one of the worst moments in his entire life. Nothing in any of his 45 years of life will ever come close, not until his son loses his leg and fights for his life in the hospital, not until some faceless stranger kidnapped him for reasons Stoick never wants to know.

He couldn’t traverse the ice to go get him, it would’ve never been able to hold his weight if it couldn’t hold Hiccup’s. All he was able to do, all any of them were able to do, was watch in fear as Hiccup cried and clawed and struggled to get out.

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Somehow that incident ended well. Somehow Hiccup managed to pull himself back up on slightly thicker ice than the parts that kept breaking on him. He got far enough away from the hole that someone could pull him the rest of the way. Once he was pulled back, Stoick and Valka enclosed him in their arms, his tiny and wet body cold in their embrace.

Neither of them have ever forgotten that day and it’s all Stoick can think about now. He can still hear Hiccup’s voice.

“Mom! Dad!” He’d cried for their help, something he has rarely ever done growing up. No matter how many problems may pile and pile, Hiccup has always wanted to solve things himself before he called in any sort of help. It’s probably why, after recovering from his amputation, he wanted to pull Toothless out of his guilt.

Stoick wonders if that was what had gotten him kidnapped. There are plenty of stories of people pretending to be hurt or in distress just to lure in unsuspecting good-natured people. If anybody could fall for such a scam, it would be Hiccup. Every part of his mind could be telling him that this person was up to no good and he would still act on that small, small “what if this person truly is in trouble?”

Is that what got him kidnapped? What got him... killed? Was Hiccup simply too pure of heart and did someone take advantage of that to snuff out his light?

After the lake incident, they drove him to the hospital as fast as they could and they found out he was okay. The doctor there told them he would be just fine and that they just needed to keep him warm and dry until his temperature was back up. After that, they could take him home with them.

He hadn’t lost consciousness, he didn’t seem to have swallowed or breathed in too much water, they could be almost certain that he was entirely okay.

As for his parents, however, they were never quite the same after that accident. Once Hiccup was dry, Stoick held his shivering son to him and vowed to him that he would never let anything happen to him ever again.

It’s a vow he broke twice.

Hiccup bounces back from pretty much anything thrown at him. After his fall, he would sneak out to play when his parents would much rather have him home with them. And though he wouldn’t go back on a frozen lake again, he’d still go out swimming with his friends.

During his divorce with Valka, though it was a painful time for all of them, he seemed to understand why it needed to happen and adjusted quickly. Even when asked if he thought badly of his parents months after it was finalized, he’d told them “no”, that it was better this way.

When a dragon went and bit his leg off, Hiccup went on to not only see the darn thing again, but he made friends with it and decided to fully dedicate his life to dragonkind. At 15, he wasn’t sure yet where he wanted his life to go, not until that accident.

Again and again, Stoick promised his son that nothing would ever happen to him after this. He held him in the hospital after his birth as he promised, then a second time after the lake, then a third time as he held his hand just before the surgery that would take his leg. Chances are, he will never get to promise him a fourth time.

Sitting on the couch, not paying attention to the tv and wasting away, there are tears in his eyes. Never much of an emotional man, Stoick doesn’t feel like he can stop them.

Strictly statistically speaking, the chances of a missing person ever being found alive, or even found at all, dwindles by the day and Hiccup has been gone since early June.

It’s December now.

The horrendous theories from the police don’t help either. Some even dare to put the blame on Hiccup, insinuating that his death, not his vanishing, but his death , might’ve been caused by a crime of passion. 19 years old, handsome, tall, capable, who isn’t to say he’s been cheating on his girlfriend and either she or the mistress found out? Naturally, that meant Astrid was a suspect at some point, too.

Stoick remembers seeing her after an interrogation once. Her parents came to pick her up at the same time he’d come to the station to demand an update.

She’d been distraught, face red and eyes bloodshot. Hiccup was her boyfriend of a year, her childhood friend, and they’d accused her of killing him over something like that. While cheating is no trivial matter, it’s not something she would kill over. Besides that, everyone who knew Hiccup also knows that he would’ve never done such a thing to her in the first place.

Then they settled for the most likely culprit, which was Dagur.

Stoick won’t lie, it felt good to finally hear from the police that they got him and that he would answer for his crimes, but that only lasted for… what? A day? Two days? A week at most? The relief ended quickly because the question of what happened to Hiccup remains unanswered to this day and Dagur stubbornly persists that he’s “getting better”, that he “would never hurt Hiccup”. And frankly, a part of Stoick seems to believe the young man.

Gods, why didn’t he just let him go live with Valka to study dragons? He wouldn’t have needed to move out and gotten an apartment deeper in their town. He would’ve already been living in the sanctuary if he did.

Or maybe the sanctuary was part of the problem. It’s not exactly a car ride away, you need to take the ferry there. So perhaps, part of the reason why he didn’t let Hiccup study dragons, he now realizes, is because he didn’t want him to go so far away.

How ironic, then, that someone decided to take him away anyway when he wasn’t looking. As if someone knew of Stoick’s inability to let go of his only child and thought that they should be the one to make him.

This never would’ve happened if he let Hiccup do as he wished. On the sanctuary, surrounded by dragons who know and love him, where Valka is, he would’ve been perfectly safe. Stoick may as well have asked someone to kidnap him.

It’s a painful thought and a tear falls, but Stoick doesn’t fight the guilt that he feels. This is all his fault. If he didn’t constantly break his vow to keep his child safe, Hiccup would still be here.

Gobber can read every self-deprecating thought on his old friend’s face, can see the tears, and sighs deeply before he looks back at the tv. On the channel they’re watching, they’re now installing some plumbing on a different program.

He wishes he could take the hurt away, wishes he could say something, but everything that can possibly be said he’s already said.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Stoick.”

“They’ll find him, Stoick.”

“Hiccup’s a strong and smart lad, Stoick”.

He’s sick of repeating himself. He doesn’t even believe his own words, so why should he continue to spout these lies? To a grieving father especially?

Hiccup is smart and he is strong, but does that mean he could still be alive today?

The will to comfort his friend quickly abates in the face of his own doubts and loss, Gobber feels like he may as well follow Stoick’s example and waste away alongside him. What else is left for him to do?

Just then, Stoick’s phone rings.

Snapping them both of their contemplation, Stoick picks it up and looks at the caller’s ID. It’s Astrid, the poor lass. He doesn’t feel like talking to her, but then, he also didn’t feel like letting Gobber in, so he answers the call.

“Astrid, lass?” He acknowledges her, hand rubbing in his eyes.

His eyes widen suddenly and he shoots up from the couch, startling Gobber in the process.

“Stoick?” He wonders what’s gotten him so riled up and so out of nowhere. What could Astrid possibly be telling him?

“Yes, I’m still here. Thank you for telling me, lass, I’m coming. Please, tell him that when he wakes up.” Eventually, after what felt like much too long of a call to Gobber, Stoick hangs up the phone and stares at him with that same wide-eyed look he can’t quite place. The tears are still there, they’re still falling, so what is that expression telling him?

“What is it, man?! Don’t keep me waiting, spit it out!” He demands, throwing his remaining hand up in growing frustration.

“They found him, Gobber. They found my son.”

Perhaps, Stoick can still make good on that vow.

[fandomsalive]

Guide Me Home

Guide Me Home | Reddie | Teen and Up | 21,365 words

Summary: “I am here to offer you a choice,” Maturin explains patiently, finally seeming to answer Eddie’s questions. “You can move on from this world,” he says, and a plain wooden door appears, suddenly, out of nowhere, to the left of Eddie. It’s not close to him. It’s close enough that Eddie can see clearly what it is, but far enough that Eddie know’s he’d have to make the conscious decision to walk all the way to it. “Or I can take you back,” Maturin says, and another door appears to the right of Eddie, just as far as the first, but in a bright, gleaming gold this time.

For a second, Eddie doesn’t breathe. The choice seems so simple, so obvious. Of course he wants to go back! He’s only forty years old, he has a whole life ahead of him! He’s only just got the Losers back, and they killed that fucking clown! There’s nothing left to hold him back! He has a life in New York to get back to, a wife and —

A wife and…

A wife and nothing else but lies lies lies.

**

This has been such a journey to write! I don't remember how long I've been working on it, but it's been at least a few months because I just wanted to get it right. My first rough draft was only 11,500 words, and it quite literally doubled in size and I can't believe it! Here it is, finally, and I am so excited to share it! I hope that you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Thanks as always to my best friend and beta @imnotinclinedtomaturity.

Ao3 Link

**

After the world goes dark, Eddie doesn’t expect to open his eyes ever again — it’s therefore a surprise to him when he does.

As his eyes flutter open, he notices immediately that the heavy feeling pressing on his chest, the one that had been making it difficult for him to breathe, is gone. The realization is enough to cause him to inhale deeply, if for no other reason than he can. The feeling of his lungs inflating without any discomfort or pain is a relief, and Eddie lets the breath back out again slowly.

He realizes as he does so that he allowed his eyes to drift shut again, and he opens them slowly.

The world around him is white, nothing but white in every direction. He’s laying down on something, and as Eddie looks down, he realizes it’s a bed — well, a cot, more specifically. The kind you find in a hospital. For a moment, Eddie actually believes that he is in a hospital, but then he looks up again and realizes that he can’t be, because there’s nothing else here.

His brow furrows in confusion as he sits up slowly, wincing reflexively as he does, only — there is no pain. He looks down cautiously and moves his hands to his abdomen where, what felt like moments ago, there had been a huge gaping hole ripped straight through him.

There’s nothing there, now. He’s completely whole, as if the fight with It never happened.

A sense of foreboding starts to clog Eddie’s throat, and he stares wide-eyed at the sheer whiteness around him as he pushes himself free from the bed. At his sides, his fingers curl into fists, and he turns in quick, anxious circles as he searches for something, anything, in the vast nothingness that surrounds him.

Eddie can feel his heart starting to cramp with terror, a stutter caught in his chest, and aches for the inhaler he’d thrown into the fire what must have been at least an hour ago.

What the fuck is happening? he wonders anxiously. Where am I? Where the fuck is this place?

Wherever he is, it strikes fear into Eddie’s heart, and he wants nothing more than to get out. He’d never known what true silence was until now, and he can feel his skin prickling uncomfortably. The more he checks out his surroundings, moving swift on shaky legs, the more it becomes clear that there is nothing else here, and the sheer force of the vast emptiness nearly knocks Eddie flat on his ass with terror.

It’s just as the panic is truly beginning to set in that Eddie hears a voice.

“You’ve been asleep a long time,” it says, echoing all around him. Startled, Eddie jumps in place, and immediately raises his hands defensively.

“Who’s there?” he demands, glaring into the vast nothingness. He cranes his neck to look above him, the only place he hasn’t looked, but finds nothing.

Oh god, oh fuck, oh shit, he thinks, twisting his body around again to check behind him, and then again to make sure nothing has appeared in the short moment he wasn’t looking.

As tends to happen when Eddie doesn’t know what to do, he gets angry. “Hey!” he shouts, when the person still hasn’t answered him. “Answer me you fucking asshole!” he adds rashly, shuffling backwards, towards the hospital bed.

His hands are shaking.

“Eddie Kaspbrak,” the voice replies, a calm, deep tenor. Eddie’s back locks up with rigid terror.

“How do you know my name?” he shouts defensively, eyes still darting around the bright nothingness he’s found himself in, even though he knows that it’s useless.

There’s nothing here.

“Who the fuck are you? Where are my friends?” he asks, voice quavering in the quiet, but there is no immediate response. Eddie is left, again, to his own thoughts and fears, and he scrambles at the back of his mind for some kind of memory that’ll tell him what the hell is going on. The last thing he remembers is Richie telling him he’ll be right back for him, and then —

Well… dying.

Oh god, he moans inside his own head, and lets out a whimper into the quiet air. What happened to Richie? What happened to Bill? And Ben, and Bev, and Mike… Are they dead? Is he dead? What the hell is going on? he asks himself.

“I know all of you,” the voice says, calm, and Eddie jumps, pulled abruptly out of his panicked spiral of thoughts, only to be launched into a brand new one.

Pennywise, he thinks, and trips backwards, until his back hits the hospital bed. True fear grips him hard, as he imagines what’s going to happen to him now. Pennywise has him trapped somewhere, maybe inside of his own goddamn mind, like he had Beverly twenty-seven years ago. Did he get caught in the deadlights? No, that was Richie, not him, and he’d thrown the spear straight into Pennywise’s throat, hadn’t he?

Fuck! Pennywise should have died, then! Eddie killed him, he killed that motherfucking clown, and now he’s back and he’s going to torture Eddie and —

Running on sheer adrenaline, Eddie shouts “I’ll fucking kill you, asshole, I swear to god! Don’t come near me or I swear I’m going to—” Eddie’s voice cracks as he fails to come up with a proper threat. He can feel his throat closing up as he waits for some kind of response, but it doesn’t come.

Eddie’s mind scrambles for answers, for any indication of what the hell might be going on. He doesn’t really remember what happened, his memories a tangled blur. He’d told Richie to go, hadn’t he? Before he… before he died, maybe. He told Richie to go, but why? Where had the others been, while Eddie was laying there bleeding to death on the cistern floor? Fuck, where had they been?

And then Eddie remembers — he remembers telling the others how to kill Pennywise. Make him small, he’d said, and all the others had run off into the main cavern to do just that. Eddie remembers hearing them shout insults at him, remembers telling Richie that the others needed him, that he needed to go, now.

They’d killed Pennywise. Surely they’d killed him?

“You’re dead!” Eddie screams when he finally manages to get his breath back again. “We fucking killed you!” he adds, desperate now. He can feel his legs give out on him at the same time as his ass hits the side of the bed, misses the landing, and hits the ground hard. Tears fill his eyes, half from pain, half from fear, and he glares up into the blank sky and screams, “We killed you!” around a sob stuck in his throat.

Oh god, he thinks, Oh god, we came back here and for what? he wonders, allowing the tears to overwhelm him. He shoves his face into his hands and just lets himself cry, shoulders shaking as he thinks of his friends. If he’s here, in whatever the fuck this place is, all alone, what happened to the rest of them? Are they somewhere here too, or maybe in their own nightmare of Pennywise’s devising? Eddie thinks of Richie, of one of the last things he’d said to him (“I fucked your mom.”) and wishes more than anything that he could change it.

Suddenly, just as Eddie’s tears are reaching a crescendo, a sense of calm settles down on his shoulders and floods through his veins. Eddie shudders at the touch, hiccuping over another broken sob, and raises his head to stare up into the sky.

“What—” he tries, voice cracking. “What are you doing to me?” he tries again, this time managing to shape the words with his tongue. The calmness settles deeper inside of him, and then an all-consuming knowing settles into his soul.

“He is dead,” the voice promises, obviously referring to Pennywise. The tone is soothing this time, grandfatherly, deep, and even before the voice speaks, Eddie knows what it's going to say.

Pennywise is dead. He’s really dead. He can’t hurt Eddie anymore.

The knowledge sits there in Eddie’s mind for a long moment, seeping into him. He feels his limbs relax as he lets it in, and closes his eyes. His lips are still parted on half-spoken words, but after a moment, they drift shut too.

Pennywise is dead. He’s dead.

Eddie shudders at the thought, and finally opens his eyes. He stares dumbly at nothing. “Okay,” he mutters to himself, “Okay.” He just needs to sit with that for a minute. He knows somehow that it’s true, and sure this could all be some crazy, made-up mind game that Pennywise is playing on him, but it doesn’t feel like it is. Pennywise had always felt like madness, but this voice? It feels like benevolence.

Inhaling deeply, Eddie lets out a slow breath before managing to compose himself.

“Who are you?” Eddie asks again, quieter this time. His voice is shaking, and his ass hurts from falling so hard, but the fear feels farther away, now, just out of reach, like the voice is blocking him from feeling anything but calm.

“Maturin,” answers the voice finally.

Eddie nods his head. Maturin. Okay. Sure. Maturin. Whatever that means.

Before Eddie can ask another question, however, an image floats through his mind of a large turtle swimming through the stars in the sky, galaxies and nebula rushing by. On its back sits world, after world, after world — and then it's gone.

Eddie blinks, shocked. He doesn’t know how Maturin did that, put that image in his head, and while it’s a more thorough answer than Eddie could have asked for, it’s still vaguely horrifying to have something shoved into his mind like that. He shakes it off as best he can, and considers it.

“Uhm, so are you like… a god?” he asks disbelievingly. Eddie’s never really believed in god, but if he’s being honest with himself, after what he’d seen down there in the cistern, after what he’d seen when he was thirteen, it wouldn’t much surprise him.

“I am a guardian,” Maturin explains simply but dismissively, to the point where Eddie feels like he shouldn’t pry further. It sounds almost like Maturin wouldn’t tell him even if he asked, like a disgruntled adult who doesn’t feel the information is relevant.

Without missing a beat, Maturin repeats, “It is dead,” and another wave of knowing overwhelms Eddie.

It is dead. Pennywise is dead.

Right. Eddie understands. Pennywise is dead, but… “What happened to the others?” he asks. Some of the forced calm that had been holding his emotions hostage seems to drain out of him, a little at a time, and Eddie finds himself able to worry again.

It’s a question Eddie needs an answer to, and yet an answer that Eddie dreads.

“They are safe,” Maturin assures him.

Eddie’s shoulders sag in relief, and he nods mindlessly at the news, his head spinning. Fuck, they’re safe. Thank god they’re safe. Eddie doesn’t know what he would have done if anything had happened to them. Not after everything they’d done.

And Richie. Eddie doesn’t know what he would have done if something had happened to Richie, especially not after Eddie had done everything he could to save Richie from the deadlights.

But what about Eddie? Is he dead? Where is he? Why is he here?

“And…” Eddie hesitates, after a moment. “And me?” he asks a little breathlessly, nervous for the answer.

He expects a sense of sadness to imbue him the same way Maturin had made him feel calm, like Maturin’s feelings had been covering Eddie’s, but it doesn’t happen. Instead, Maturin simply repeats, “You have been asleep for a long time.”

Eddie immediately feels frustrated by the answer, and he glares up at the nothing above him furiously.

“You already said that!” he snaps, annoyed again. His anxiety over his own death is bad enough without Maturin acting all fucking mysterious about it. He just wants a straight fucking answer, is that too much to ask? “What the fuck does that even mean? And where am I? What am I doing here?” he demands, questions quickfire in the still air. His chest heaves with the ache of asking them, and he has to force his mouth shut before he can ask anything else, afraid, already, to know the answer to these.

“Eddie Kaspbrak,” Maturin replies, voice gentle but stern, “I try to help where I can,” he explains ambiguously. Eddie feels his hands curl into fists at his sides again, ready to angrily snap what the fuck does that mean, but Maturin doesn’t give him the chance, instead continuing, “You are between life and death. Your life hangs in the balance…”

Through the white nothingness comes an image, pressed to the center of Eddie’s eye. He can see himself, clothed in a blue hospital gown, face paler than the sheets and so fucking bloodless Eddie is shocked to witness his chest move with each breath. He can hear the beep of machines, and a soft, blurred sound in the background, as if someone is speaking. It’s a voice that Eddie thinks he recognizes, and then it’s gone.

Eddie blinks the image out of his eye, and stares, shocked.

“I am here to offer you a choice,” Maturin explains patiently, finally seeming to answer Eddie’s questions. “You can move on from this world,” he says, and a plain wooden door appears, suddenly, out of nowhere, to the left of Eddie. It’s not close to him. It’s close enough that Eddie can see clearly what it is, but far enough that Eddie know’s he’d have to make the conscious decision to walk all the way to it. “Or I can take you back,” Maturin says, and another door appears to the right of Eddie, just as far as the first, but in a bright, gleaming gold this time.

For a second, Eddie doesn’t breathe. The choice seems so simple, so obvious. Of course he wants to go back! He’s only forty years old, he has a whole life ahead of him! He’s only just got the Losers back, and they killed that fucking clown! There’s nothing left to hold him back! He has a life in New York to get back to, a wife and —

A wife and…

A wife and nothing else but lies lies lies. Slowly, the same thoughts that had been going through Eddie’s mind since before they’d descended into Its lair drift back through his mind. He hadn’t wanted to die, but… he’d been so sure that he would. He’d wanted nothing more than to go home, but to what? The same thing he’d left twenty-two years ago, when he’d stepped foot out of his mother’s house for what he thought would be the last time, and walked right back into two months later?

Everything that he’d learned with the Loser’s that summer — the manipulation, the placebos, the realization that he was brave — had disappeared within two months of leaving Derry, and Eddie had found himself right back on his mother’s doorstep.

He never really left it again. Myra was everything his mother had been, and he’d gone right ahead and married her anyway. His life was a constant refrain of fear and illness and you’re too weak, Eddie bear, you need me, let me take care of you. When he’d packed his bag to come out here to Derry, he’d filled almost an entire suitcase with medications that Eddie didn’t even need, and it had only taken a few hours for Eddie to remember that he wasn’t sick, that he’d never been sick, and yet back in the cistern, he’d still used his inhaler as if it weren’t filled with camphor water and… and… what did Eddie really have to go back to?

He was stuck in a dead-end, boring job that he’d held for fifteen years, even though he hated it. He was a senior risk analyst with no hope of going anywhere else, making more money than he needed for a man who never spent a dime on himself outside of doctor's visits he didn’t need and medication that did nothing for him. His marriage had been dead in the water from the moment he’d said I do — probably even before that, if he’s being honest — and he and Myra both knew it.

He didn’t really have anything to go back to. He didn’t have a life, not really. He’d been living a goddamn nightmare for twenty-two years, and he couldn’t even begin to fathom how to make a change big enough to make a difference.

He did have the Loser’s now, though. Surely they would be there to help him? But they also had lives of their own to get back, and Eddie couldn’t imagine any of them could have also fucked their lives up so bad that they wouldn’t want to go back to them. Maybe Bev, because she had always been in the same boat as Eddie in some way, with a parent who hurt them in different but fundamentally similar ways. But Bev would have Ben, and would Eddie have anybody, really? Would any of them really want to put up with all of the bullshit that had eroded Eddie away into a nervous wreck? He’d always been a hypochondriac, he knew that, but this was somehow different.

Would they even stay friends, after all of this? It had been twenty-two years for some of them, twenty-seven for even more of them. They didn’t know each other anymore. They might have acted like best friends back in the Jade of the Orient, but that was akin to a high school fucking reunion. You might stay in touch for a few weeks, maybe a few months, after seeing each other again, but eventually, it all faded away...

What if they forgot each other again? The very idea of it makes Eddie’s soul ache, and he gasps back a sob stuck in his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut in pain just remembering them. Remembering that summer, and the summers that came after as they each slowly started to drift away until there was no one but him, and Richie, and Mike… and then they were all gone. For twenty-two years, Eddie had forgotten the people who had meant the most to him, and the idea of getting them back, only to lose them again, is more than Eddie can take.

It takes a long moment, but eventually Eddie opens his eyes to stare up into the nothingness and blurts out, “I saved their lives, didn’t I?” He asks it like a question, but it’s not really a question at all. He says, “I saved Richie from the deadlights, and I told the others how to kill Pennywise, and I…” Eddie trails off, chest aching with the bone-deep knowledge that he has done so much more with his life in the past forty-eight hours than he has in twenty-two years.

Maturin says, “Yes.”

Eddie nods. He doesn’t have a reply for that. All he can think is, isn’t that enough?

Before he knows it, hot tears are streaming down his cheeks again, and Eddie reaches up in astonishment to wipe them away. He hadn’t even realized he’d begin to cry. His chest hurts so bad. Slowly, Eddie wraps his arms tight around himself and squeezes hard.

“Fuck,” he gasps and shakes his head. He can feel himself shaking, but it isn’t from the cold. Something like a burning pain rips through his heart when he thinks about dying, but more than anything he just wants to know — “Will they be okay?” he asks through shaking lips.

Maturin makes a deep noise that Eddie can’t begin to articulate, and then he says “Let me show you.”

For the third time, images ripple forward against Eddie’s eyes, until it’s all that he can see. He gasps, and he’s back in the blackness that was Its lair, a stark contrast to the white place he’d been in before. It’s too dark for him to see anything here. There are strong, warm arms wrapped around him, a desperate grip against his skin, and hot, warm tears soaking into his neck. He can hear screaming around him and the roar of a collapsing building.

“Come on Richie, we have to go!” someone is saying, but all Eddie can really hear is the desperate, wet gasping pressed into the column of his neck. “Let’s go man, let’s go!” another someone is saying — Ben, or Bill maybe…

“No,” Eddie hears Richie whimper against his ear, and, with a shock, Eddie realizes who it is that’s holding him. “No, no, no!” Richie screams, and there’s a grappling sensation, like Eddie’s body is being shoved around. Richie doesn’t let go of him, and then Eddie hears “We can still help him guys, we can still help him!” screamed in a desperate plea so heart-wrenching that Eddie can’t bear to hear it.

He gasps out a choked sob of his own, but it goes unnoticed in the flurry.

Someone pries Richie’s arms from him.

“No, please, let go of me!” Richie screams, scrabbling for Eddie, his fingertips grasping at the edges of Eddie’s jacket, and then slipping on through. “Please, no, we can still help him, we can help him!” Richie begs, and Eddie feels another sob wrench free of him. The sound turns into a gasp, and despite the fact that it’s a memory Maturin is showing him, the reaction seems to have happened in real time because Richie screams “He’s breathing! Guy’s he’s breathing, please, help me!”

There’s another desperate scramble, another scream, this time of pain, and then Richie’s holding him in his arms again. Eddie knows it’s Richie because of the shudder in his breathing, the tears dripping down onto Eddie’s face now, the way Richie’s hands are cupping his cheeks, searing in their warmth.

“Stay with me Eds,” he begs, gasping the words around broken sobs, “We’re going to get you out of here…”

“Richie, come on!” Someone yells — Mike?

“We have to get out of here!”

Eddie can hear it, the sounds of the cave falling apart around them. His heart drops to the pit of his stomach, and for a moment he wonders did we make it out alive until he remembers that Maturin had promised him yes, that Maturin had shown Eddie himself in a hospital bed.

“He’s alive, guys, help me!” Richie screams again, and finally, finally, more arms grab at his body. Eddie can feel it as someone grabs his legs, as Richie releases his face, and scrambles around to grip him under the arms, and lift him up. Eddie feels himself be cradled against Richie’s chest even as he grunts, even as he runs, and feels warm.

“Why did you show me that,” Eddie gasps as the images leave his mind. He can feel the tears dripping freely down his face now, and his heart hurts. He doesn’t understand. “I asked if they’d be okay, why did you show me that!?” he demands, letting out a harsh sob. His hands are trembling as he reaches up to dash the tears away, and he swallows thickly, glaring into the white nothing. “Why!?” he shouts, when he still hasn’t received an answer.

“To show you what you missed,” Maturin answers. Eddie expects him to sound remorseful, but he doesn’t.

“Well, I didn’t want to see them when it happened!” Eddie screams, clawing at his face in frustration. “I — I — I knew they’d — They’d be upset and they’d — They’d mourn me but —”

“Did you?” Maturin accuses, piercing Eddie straight through the heart in a place of deep, deep self-hatred that told Eddie that they might cry, but that they hadn’t known him long enough as an adult to really mourn him.

At that moment, he hates Maturin for understanding him so well.

“Show me something else,” he demands, shaking his head roughly, glaring into the nothingness. “Show me — you said I’ve been asleep for a long time. Show me how they are now. Show me how they’re doing now,” he begs, his breathing harsh and heavy as he attempts to pull himself together and stop crying.

He just wants to know that they’ll be okay. He just wants to know if he can move on without leaving something important behind.

Maturin says, “As you wish.”

Eddie feels his eye open to the images again, and shudders at the sensation. He feels rubbed raw, as an image solidifies around him. He’s in the hospital room again — he can tell from the mint walls and the beeping of a heart monitor. He isn’t looking down on his own face this time, but at the ceiling. As Eddie settles into the moment he realizes that this time, he can move his own gaze, as if he’s inhabiting his living body and borrowing it to take a peek into the real world. He’s certain that he’s not actually moving even as he turns his head and gazes at the man sitting beside him.

It’s Richie.

Maturin hadn’t told him how long he’d been sleeping — all he’d (rather unhelpfully) said was “a long time”. Eddie isn’t sure how long “a long time” is, but from the sound of it, it had been at least more than a few days. So why is Richie still at his bedside?

Richie… does not look good. He looks like he hasn’t shaved in a few days, a dark scruff dotted around his jawline, and his eyes have dark bags underneath them. He’s dressed in a clean t-shirt with a zip-up hoodie tight around his biceps and Eddie realizes — that’s one of his hoodies. One of the blue ones he’d packed into his bag before he’d come to Derry.

It doesn’t fit Richie very well, and Eddie can’t imagine how he’d gotten it other than Richie going through his luggage to find it. He’s not sure he can bear to consider why.

It looks good on him, despite the small size.

The heavy sensation of crying is still crowding against Eddie’s chest, and the sight of Richie in Eddie’s jacket makes it strangle him tighter. He has to swallow thickly to kick it back down, and even then only because he worries what’ll happen if he cries just then.

He can’t be certain, but when he’d sobbed during that memory of Eddie’s near-death, it had felt like Richie had heard it. He doesn’t want Richie to hear him cry again.

Instead, Eddie takes in the deep lines on Richie’s face, the obvious signs of pain and fatigue, and wishes that he could wipe them away.

“What are you still doing here?” a voice Eddie had almost forgotten about over these last couple of days says, cutting through the thick silence of the hospital room. Eddie only realizes that Richie is staring at Eddie’s face when Richie doesn’t look away to answer her.

“The same thing I do every day, Pinkie,” Richie says in a hollow tone. “Taking over the world.”

Myra doesn’t laugh, but Eddie wouldn’t have expected her to. She scoffs instead, clearly unimpressed with Richie’s sense of humor — not that Richie seems all that jazzed about it right now, either. Eddie doesn’t remember a time he’d heard Richie sound like this.

Eddie hears the sound of a chair being dragged closer to his bed, and turns his head to finally take in Myra. She looks as put together as she always does as she slips into a chair on the opposite side of Eddie from Richie. She’s done her hair and makeup, and in contrast to Richie, doesn’t look as if she’s lost a day of sleep.

“Well I don’t know why you keep coming back here,” Myra sneers, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder, and reaching out to take Eddie’s hand in hers. It dwarfs Eddie’s, and Eddie can feel the soft clamminess of it. He tries not to recoil in disgust, but now with his memories returned to him, with the knowledge that Eddie never loved Myra and she was just a replacement for his mom when she died, he can’t stand the thought of Myra touching him.

He knows it’s unfair. She’s his wife, and he’s lying in a hospital bed in what appears to be a coma. She’s allowed to be worried.

The problem is, Eddie can’t help thinking that she doesn’t look worried at all.

“There’s been no change in the last few weeks,” Myra mutters in a volume that is much too loud to really be a mutter, but sounds just as begrudging. “All the rest of your little friends are long gone, so why are you still here?” Myra asks shrewdly, and something about her tone reminds Eddie so distinctly of his mother that he doesn’t know how he never noticed it before now.

Richie doesn’t answer her.

Myra makes a “harumph” noise. “Don’t know why I even let you in here,” Myra snarls to herself, squeezing her fingers tightly around Eddie’s.

“You couldn’t make me leave if you tried,” Richie snaps, and his tone is so hostile that Eddie’s head snaps to look at him. There’s a look of deep resentment in his gaze, a flash of anger that burns hot there.

Even before Myra responds, Eddie knows it was the wrong thing to say.

“I’m his wife!” she challenges him harshly. “And I could have you kicked out of here in a heartbeat,” she hisses, glaring at Richie. Eddie can see the way that Richie clenches his jaw in reaction to this, how his teeth grind together for a moment, before he inhales deeply, and lets his shoulders sag in defeat.

“I know,” he mumbles back, avoiding Myra’s gaze now. “Thank you for letting me stay,” he adds, and at best it's begrudging, but it seems to pacify Myra. Her grip loosens on Eddie’s hand.

“You’re welcome,” she replies pompously, and they both shut up.

In the silence, Eddie finds himself wondering why Myra is letting Richie stay. If he’d had a moment to think about what would have happened after Myra showed up, it would have been the Losers being banned from Eddie’s hospital room. At best, he’s shocked at Myra’s kindness, and at worst, he’s wondering what it is she’s angling for here.

It only takes a moment for Eddie to make the connection. It had been the same, with his mom. Once Eddie had gotten old enough to realize that he didn’t have to do every single thing she said, she’d started using Eddie’s friends as bargaining chips. She’d allow him to stay at their houses for longer and longer periods of time, knowing that if she did, Eddie would turn around and take his medicine just the way she’d asked, or stay home watching movies with her on her birthday, or allowing her to coddle him when he got sick.

Myra had always been much the same way, giving Eddie what she thought he might want because she knew if she did, then Eddie would owe her.

She was allowing Richie to stay because she thought it might get her something from Eddie when he woke up.

Eddie clenches his teeth at the very thought. He hates that he’s allowed both his mother and Myra to use him like that. He hates that he ever thought it was okay. How much of a tyrant has Myra been to Richie, to the rest of his friends, just for the satisfaction of knowing that she’s doing Eddie a favor by letting them stay here?

Eddie wonders if Myra ever blamed them for Eddie’s… accident. The thought of it makes him ache for his friends. He knows his wife well, can only just imagine the venom she’s spit at them, and he wonders how Richie can still be around to take it.

Eddie blinks away a new set of tears, and suddenly the vision fades from his mind. His brow furrows immediately, and he blinks a few more times in confusion before he finally asks. “Wait, that’s it? What about the others?” He can’t help the frustration in his tone as he waits for a response.

“You asked to see them as they are now,” Maturin responds gravely. Eddie feels himself inflating with frustration, ready to scream, but Maturin continues, “I can only show you what your body has been there to witness.” His voice is calm, not unkind, but very serious.

Eddie deflates almost immediately.

“Right,” he mutters dully, and crosses his legs on the floor. He swipes a hand through his hair roughly, shoving it back against the top of his head for no other reason than to avoid yanking on it the way he’s so sorely tempted to do.

Of course, it’s not as simple as — as — whatever the fuck Eddie had been imagining. Maturin has done nothing so far to suggest that he can show Eddie just anything. Eddie himself has been in all three visions, so it makes sense that the only things Eddie can see are things he was there for or whatever. It’s just that… Eddie had really been hoping to see more than that.

He just wants to know if his friends are going to be okay without him. Would it be so bad, if he died? The idea of going back is terrifying to Eddie. He doesn’t know if there's anything worth going back for — that was the whole reason he’d asked — and so far all Maturin has shown him is Richie falling to pieces over Eddie’s nearly dead body and Myra treating Richie like shit, neither of which has done anything other than make Eddie feel sad.

He wants to know how long it’s been.

A long time, Maturin had said, and Myra had commented that there’s been no change in Eddie for weeks. Richie’s still there, though, sitting at his bedside, refusing to leave, and it just doesn’t make sense. Why is Richie still there? When did everybody else leave? Had they forgotten Eddie already, now that they were gone? Was that why Richie hadn’t left his bedside?

There are so many questions that Eddie wants the answers to so bad, but more than anything else, he just wants to see his friends.

He rubs his hands over his face and begs Maturin, “Please just… let me see them. All of them, or as many of them as you can get into one room. Before they left.”

Maturin doesn’t answer this time, but he does drag Eddie along into another memory.

“The doctors say he’s recovering well,” Bev announces as she walks into Eddie’s hospital room. Eddie’s already looking in her direction, so he doesn’t have to turn to see her.

She looks much the same as the last time he’d seen her except cleaner, more put together. She’s still in kids’ clothes, faded blue jeans that hit her mid-calf, and a long-sleeved white shirt. The only thing she’s missing is the key around her neck that she’d worn the summer of ‘89 and the thought makes Eddie smile.

She looks healthy, too. There’s a glow in her cheeks that hadn’t been there at the restaurant, and her eyes are bright. Eddie almost wants to say she looks happy, except she isn’t smiling as her eyes land on Eddie’s body. In fact, she frowns the moment she looks at Eddie, and the crease in her brow becomes obvious. There are worry lines all along her face that hadn’t been there before, and Eddie wonders, how long had I been asleep when this happened?

Unaware of who else is in the room just then, Eddieisn’t sure what kind of response to expect, but when Richie asks, “Then why hasn’t he woken up yet?” in a shockingly loud, harsh tone, Eddie immediately flinches. He turns to his right to find that Richie is sitting at his bedside again, only this time he looks a hell of a lot worse.

The dark circles under his eyes are even more prominent than in the last memory, set into this sallow skin. His face looks gaunt, like he hasn’t been eating very much, and the messy, greasy look to his hair suggests he hasn’t showered in a few days either. His beard is even more grown in than when he’d been with Myra, making it rather prominent on his face, and it isn’t exactly a good look for him, either. The bottom is a lot more grey than the rest, betraying Richie’s age.

Looking at him, Eddie can see the grief pure on his face, and it makes his heart ache. God, is this what he’s doing to his friends? To Richie? Making them suffer, because he hasn’t decided whether or not he’s going to wake up?

Unable to face that thought just now, Eddie forces himself to look away. He almost regrets it, when he takes in the look of deep sympathy playing out on Bev’s face. There’s a gentle understanding to her gaze as she steps forward, moving into the space on the other side of Eddie’s bed.

“His body has been put through a lot, Richie,” she explains sadly, taking Eddie’s hand gently in hers. Unlike Myra’s touch, it doesn’t make Eddie want to recoil. In fact, it’s soothing, her skin soft and warm against the cold of his own.

Growling in frustration, Richie snaps back, “don’t you think I know that?”

Bev flinches back, eyes a little wide and wary. Richie glares at her for a long moment, his chest heaving with anger, and then, suddenly, it’s like he deflates. His face absolutely crumples and Eddie wants to cry. He’s never seen Richie look like that, ever.

“Sorry,” Richie mutters, sniffling. It doesn’t occur to Eddie that Richie is holding his hand until he lets go, and he misses the warmth immediately. Richie shoves his face into his hands roughly, miserably, and his shoulders start to shake.

“Oh, Richie,” Bev whispers, biting her lip and staring at him sadly. She doesn’t reach out to touch him, to comfort him, something that confuses Eddie. He wants to beg her to go to him, but she doesn’t. She looks tempted, almost desperate to do just that, but she doesn’t, and Eddie doesn’t understand why.

If he were awake, he’d already have Richie in his arms, hugging him tight and allowing him to cry into Eddie’s shoulder instead. Eddie’s done it before when they were kids, on nights when Richie couldn’t sleep because of the nightmares and cried softly in Eddie’s bed, unwilling to tell Eddie what was actually wrong.

Eddie still doesn’t know what used to make Richie cry like that, but it hadn’t been near as bad as the look on Richie’s face just a moment ago, before he’d hid it in his hands.

He aches to hold Richie, to make all of his sadness go away.

“It’s going to be okay,” Bev finally says after a long moment of allowing Richie to cry. She bites her lip, tears welling in her own eyes, and squeezes Eddie’s hand. “It’s going to be okay, Richie, I promise.”

“How do you know that?” Richie asks hoarsely, voice thick with tears. When he looks up at Bev, his face is shiny and wet, eyes and nose a deep, painful-looking red. It offsets the darkness under his eyes, makes them look even more hollow.

Bev offers him a watery smile. “Because he’s still alive, Rich. Against all the odds,” she explains soothingly, the tears thick in her throat as well. Eddie watches as she swallows heavily past them, and keeps talking. “He’s been in and out of surgery for weeks, and the doctors say he’s getting stronger. He’ll wake up, Richie, I promise.”

Her eyes are gentle as she nods at Richie, her voice as encouraging as possible for someone holding back tears. Richie stares back at her brokenly, before nodding as well.

Richie goes back to crying softly into his hands, and Bev closes her eyes to visibly compose herself. After a moment, she takes the seat to the right of Eddie, and stares up into his face instead.

“Hey baby,” she murmurs softly to him, petting her fingers over the back of Eddie’s hand. Eddie wants to close his eyes at how gentle and tender it feels. When was the last time someone touched him like that? Not Myra, certainly — she could play gentle with him, but it didn’t feel tender, and more often than not she was likely to grip onto Eddie firmly and direct him to where she wanted him to be.

Bev touching him like this is everything that Eddie hadn’t known he’d been missing, and he finds himself crying again.

“We’re all waiting here for you when you’re ready to wake up, okay?” Bev offers sweetly after another moment. “And we’re not going to forget each other again, I promise,” she adds with a little laugh. “We’ve already checked. Ben had to head out a few days ago, and I was just talking to him this morning. He still knows who we all are,” she explains, sounding a little happier now. “He misses you,” she continues thoughtfully, as if she can feel that Eddie needs to hear it. “He’s sad that he couldn’t stay — work, you know — but I told him that you would understand,” she reassures him and pats the top of his hand.

Eddie wishes that he could tell her that he does understand. He does. He’d known his friends had lives outside of Derry now, lives that they would need to get back to, and just hearing that Ben hadn’t wanted to leave is more than enough.

And he remembers! He still remembers them! Maybe the magic died with Pennywise. Maybe Eddie doesn’t really have to be so scared.

Having said her piece to Eddie, Bev turns back to Richie again. He’s still sitting quietly on Eddie’s other side, sniffling now, but not crying. When Eddie looks at him, he can’t help feeling like Richie looks a little dead-eyed.

“Rich,” Bev says, drawing Eddie’s attention to her. “We’re all here for you, you know,” she tells him confidently, nodding her head fiercely when Richie doesn’t immediately respond. “We’re not going to leave you, either.”

Eddie doesn’t fully understand what she means by that, but Richie seems to. His lips twitch in a smidge of a smile, and he nods in return. “Yeah. I know,” he agrees.

Seeming appeased by this, Bev releases Eddie’s hand and gets up. “Well, I better step out and let Bill come say goodbye. He’s leaving this afternoon,” Bev explains as she turns around to leave. “I’ll be by tomorrow, give Mike a chance to visit with Eddie before Myra comes in,” she explains quietly.

She’s quiet as she leaves. For a moment, Eddie wonders why Bev had to step out for Bill to come in, and then it occurs to him that he might still be in the ICU. They mentioned he’d been in and out of surgeries, and if he’s in the ICU, he’s probably limited to two visitors at a time.

Bev had stepped out so that Richie wouldn’t have to.

Eddie’s chest tightens. He watches Richie closely then, realizing a little belatedly that Richie had mentioned being on tour at dinner the other night. Something melts inside of Eddie as he realizes that Richie clearly hasn’t left his side in weeks. He’s dropped everything for Eddie. For Eddie. Eddie doesn’t know whether to laugh or to cry, so he does both.

It hurts, seeing this whole thing tear his friends up. A part of him is shocked that any of them are still here, and yet deep down inside of him, he isn’t surprised at all. Of course they’re still here for him. Did he really expect them to just up and leave? Did he really think that after twenty plus years of being without each other, they’d be willing to let each other go again?

Eddie knows that he isn’t willing to. Eddie knows that if it were any of his friends in this situation, he would do the same thing. Hell, he’d risked his own life to save Richie’s because Eddie doesn’t know what he would have done if Richie had died.

If Richie had been the one to get hurt down in the cistern, Eddie probably would have reacted just as passionately. And he knows that if it were Richie in this bed, Eddie wouldn’t leave his side either.

“Hey,” Bill says, drawing Eddie out of his thoughts, and sitting down in the seat Bev had vacated some time ago. Eager to see his friend, Eddie turns to look at him, and feels relief fill his veins. There’s just something so comforting about seeing the other Losers alive and well.

Bill looks healthy, and like Bev before him, there’s a lightness to him that hadn’t been there at the Jade of the Orient. It looks like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders, a weight Bill had forgotten he was shouldering. He looks good, dressed up for travel and well put together.

“Hey,” Richie replies hoarsely. He clears his throat awkwardly, and tries to hide the fact that he’s been crying.

Bill doesn’t buy it. “How are you doing?” he asks gently in a voice similar to Bev’s, like he’s treading lightly. His gaze is sympathetic.

Richie shrugs, rather than answer, and turns to look out the window. Bill stares at the side of Richie’s face for a long time, before sighing audibly and turning his attention on to Eddie instead.

“Hey buddy,” Bill greets him, smiling. “I heard you’re healing pretty well,” he adds, eyes flickering to where Eddie is sure the bandage is wrapped around his body underneath the hospital gown. Bill’s lips twitch, like it’s hard, even now, to imagine Eddie’s injuries. He looks away quickly, back to Eddie’s face, which seems to be a much safer area to look at.

“We really miss you, you know,” Bill tries to say jokingly, in an obvious attempt to relieve some of the tension filling up the room. He glances over at Richie, and then back to Eddie when Richie doesn’t so much as twitch in response. “Especially Trashmouth over there,” Bill stage whispers, like it’s a secret, and obviously trying to drag something out of Richie, though what, Eddie doesn’t know. “I’ve never known him to be so quiet,” Bill teases, winking at Eddie’s prone body.

For the first time, Eddie realizes that Bill’s stutter is gone, and he marvels at that. Ben hadn’t forgotten them after leaving Derry, and Bill’s stutter is gone. Maybe the magic really is dead.

Bill’s humor is quick to disappear when Richie doesn’t immediately jump in to tease him back, or otherwise defend himself. It seems to bring Bill back to himself, because he sighs and says, “But you know, I really can’t stay much longer. I wish I could, I really do, but… I have to get home,” he explains regretfully, and he truly does look like the last thing he wants to do is leave.

Eddie aches with the knowledge, his heart swelling with a mix of happiness and sadness. His friends love him, there could be no clearer truth in the world, and he was hurting them.

Eddie doesn’t want to hurt them. He realizes then, with sudden clarity, that he wants to go back.

Seeming to pull himself back together, Bill smiles at Eddie and says, “So it would be really nice if you could maybe wake up now,” he teases, but there's a sadness to his voice this time that hadn’t quite been there before, like he knows that Eddie isn’t going to wake up for him, but he wants it so so bad.

There’s a beat where no one says anything. The beep of Eddie’s heart monitor is the only sound in the room.

Bill sighs.

“Tried that already,” Richie finally interrupts, turning to offer Bill a half-smile. Bill’s eyes are a little wet when he meets Richie’s gaze, but he huffs a quiet laugh regardless. “Asshole intends to keep us waiting,” Richie adds with a soft huff of his own, and glares playfully at Eddie. “I told him if he wakes up I’ll…” But Richie doesn’t continue. Instead, he turns to stare back outside the window, his lips trembling slightly.

Richie tangles his fingers together in his lap, and holds on tight.

Eddie feels his brow furrow. Richie’ll what?

Bill doesn’t say anything for a long time. He just stares at the side of Richie’s face cautiously, thoughtfully, like he’s trying to decide if he should say something or not. Finally, Bill leans in closer to Richie and asks, “Are you going to tell him?”

Richie doesn’t move. He doesn’t so much as twitch. He looks frozen in place, like the smallest move could break him. Bill bites his lip, but presses on, “You should tell him.”

Eddie blinks in confusion, and the memory dissolves.

Tell him what? What should Richie tell him?

“Have you decided?” asks Maturin, breaking through Eddie’s thoughts before he can even truly begin to consider what Bill had been talking about. Eddie’s eyes snap upwards, in the space where he’s decided Maturin must be, regardless of whether or not Eddie can see him, and nods his head slowly.

“Yeah… I mean,” Eddie mumbles, shaking his head to clear away the haze of confusion. He frowns, thinking about Richie and the way that he’d looked, sitting at Eddie’s bedside for so long. Sure, Bev and Bill had looked sad when they’d come to visit Eddie, but they hadn’t looked like Richie. Richie had looked absolutely destroyed. He’d been the only one there, too, in that first vision, and hadn’t Myra said that the rest of his friends were gone?

Eddie doesn’t understand.

He looks up again, and asks, “Why is Richie still there?”

There’s silence, for a long time, and then Maturin says, “He’s waiting for you.”

There’s no warning this time. Eddie doesn’t even get the chance to blink before he realizes that he’s back in the hospital room — only this time it’s dark. The lights are on, but the window is open and it’s clear that it’s nighttime.

For a moment, Eddie doesn’t understand what’s going on. He thinks, briefly, that he must have woken up without an answer to his question, and it makes him irrationally angry. He starts to rail against Maturin in his mind, thinking what the fuck does that even mean!? before he hears a quiet sob.

Eddie turns his head. Richie’s face is pressed against Eddie’s palm, and Eddie can feel tears dripping down Richie’s cheeks. He’s crying quietly, hiccuping over sobs the same way he had been down in the cistern, only softer this time, a little less frantic. He’s bent in half over Eddie’s bedside, so much so that Eddie can’t really see his face, but he can feel the heat of him from where Richie has pressed Eddie’s hand to his cheek.

“Wake up, Eddie,” Richie whispers, begging. His voice is hoarse, like he’s been crying for a very long time. “Please, just wake up,” he says again, “I’ll do anything just to hear your voice again.”

Eddie feels his heart launch into his throat, and suddenly he’s crying too. It hurts so fucking bad to see Richie falling apart like this.

Eddie wishes he could talk to Richie, that he could hold Richie back. But despite looking through his own eyes, Eddie knows that he can’t actually move his body. He knows, in fact, from Richie’s perspective, Eddie’s eyes aren’t even open. And he knows, above that, that this is just a memory.

Eddie couldn’t comfort Richie in this moment no matter how much he wants to, because it’s already happened.

“I just got you back,” Richie gasps after another moment, his voice sounding almost loud in the quiet room. Eddie’s lips tremble with anguish, because Richie looks so alone. “I’m not leaving you until you wake up,” Richie adds roughly, squeezing tight to Eddie’s hand.

Eddie closes his eyes, because looking at Richie like this hurts too much.

“Fuck,” Richie mumbles after a long moment of silence, and turns his head against Eddie’s palm. Eddie feels the soft, warm pressure of lips against his skin, and realizes that Richie is kissing the center of his palm.

It sends a jolt of shock through Eddie’s body, and he feels warm all over. His breath catches, surprised at the unexpected touch. Something like excitement sparks deep inside of him, and Eddie scrambles to understand.

“I never even got a chance to hold you,” Richie whispers against his palm, turning his head again so that Eddie is cupping his cheek. Eddie holds his breath, straining his ears to catch every last word of what Richie has to say. “You can’t die, Eddie,” Richie whimpers, shoulders shaking with his sobs. “Not yet. Fuck, Eddie, please… I never got to tell you…”

Tell me what!? Eddie wants to scream, but he knows that Richie can’t hear him. A thought claws at the back of Eddie’s mind, a memory, something that he’d felt back when he’d first seen Richie in the Jade of the Orient. Something that he’s felt for a very long time, but that he’d buried long before he’d even left Derry.

He hears something of that in Richie’s voice, and begs him tell me, Richie, just tell me.

Richie doesn’t. He just continues to cry.

“Please wake up, Eddie,” Richie whispers, “Wake up and I swear to god, I’ll tell you. But you have to wake up first. Please.”

Richie doesn’t raise his head, but he does turn his face and kiss the center of Eddie’s palm again. His lips are so warm and chapped against Eddie’s skin. It doesn’t feel like anything Eddie has ever felt before in his entire life — not when his mom used to kiss him on the forehead, not when Myra used to kiss him before bed. It’s not quick and perfunctory, it’s long and leisurely and so fucking fierce that Eddie burns with it.

It’s something that Eddie has wanted for a long time, and as he stares at Richie he sees something in his eyes that tells him that maybe Richie has wanted it just as long.

Eddie’s heart bursts, and he remembers.

When Eddie was sixteen, the summer just before his senior year, his mom decided that they were going to move to New York to live with Eddie’s aunt. Her health had been declining for years, and Eddie’s mom had volunteered to come and care for her.

Eddie hadn’t had a choice. He was too young to live on his own, let alone fight his mother to stay behind in Derry, and he wasn’t naive enough to think that he could get away with running away, so he’d been forced to accept his fate.

He, Richie, and Mike were the last of the Losers left in Derry at the time, and even before he left, Eddie knew that everything was about to change. They’d watched Bev, Bill, Ben, and then Stan leave, and while all four of them had promised to call, to come back and visit, they never did. It was like something happened to you when you left Derry, because none of them could really believe that their friends would have just forgotten them like that.

The first time, sure. Maybe Bev just didn’t want to think about what had happened in Derry anymore, maybe she didn’t feel as close to the rest of the Losers as they had to her. But then Bill had gone, Big Bill who Eddie had been friends with since first grade, and it just didn’t make sense.

So, by now, they knew. They knew that the moment one of them left Derry, they’d never hear from each other again. The realization that this was Eddie’s last chance to tell Richie how he felt had been a difficult pill to swallow, but in the end, he’d decided he had nothing left to lose.

This time, when Eddie remembers, it's not an image pressed to his eye by Maturin, it’s just a memory.

Eddie’s lying in the middle of his bare mattress, sheets stripped away and shoved into a bag at Eddie’s feet. He can hear the movers downstairs, dragging furniture out into the front lawn. He knows it’s going to take them a while to pack everything downstairs into the moving van, so he has time to laze about and wait for Richie to come say goodbye to him.

He’d reading a comic book Richie had given him for his birthday last year — X-Men #4, The Brotherhood of Evil Mutants!

(Eddie had kept that comic for sixteen years, until his wife found it buried in a box full of Eddie’s old college things and threw it out. He hadn’t remembered what it was, then.)

He remembers now, and though the comic hadn’t really been anything special, it had been one of the few items not already packed up before the move. He and Richie had always read comics together, from their days in the hammock all the way through high school. It felt like home, holding that comic, flipping through the pages and scanning over the art, and Eddie was comforted by it.

He’s anxious. He hasn’t decided yet what he’s going to say to Richie when he arrives, but he’s promised himself that he won’t let Richie say goodbye without telling him how he feels. He keeps tapping his foot against the edge of his bed, his eyes darting from his comic to the door and back, over and over again. He’s not looking at his door when Richie comes in.

“Hey loser,” Richie announces himself, pushing Eddie’s door open without knocking. Eddie jumps at the sudden arrival, and frowns at his best friend, but doesn’t comment on the nickname.

“Hey,” he greets back instead, his voice a little subdued, and watches as Richie approaches the bed and flops down on it next to Eddie, uninvited, laying down too. Eddie rolls his eyes but knocks shoulders with Richie companionably anyway. He feels warm all the way down his arm where they touch, and only pulls away reluctantly.

“What’cha reading?” Richie asks, plucking the comic book from Eddie’s hands. Instinctively, Eddie snatches the comic back quickly and shoves it to the other side of his bed, next to his open backpack. Richie stares at him in shock, and Eddie grimaces.

“Woah, Eds, calm down,” Richie teases him, though he looks concerned. “You hiding a playboy or something?” he asks with a nervous grin.

Eddie huffs angrily and glares at the ceiling. “No fucknut, don’t be disgusting,” he spits at him, thinking I just don’t want anything to happen to the comic if we screw around with it. He doesn’t say the words aloud, though, because he knows he sounds ridiculous. It’s just that… Richie had given that to him, and Eddie doesn’t want anything bad to happen to it, not when… when soon it’ll be all Eddie has left of Richie.

“Right,” Richie replies dubiously, arching a brow at Eddie. Eddie groans, and shoves his face into his hands.

“Stop being an asshole, Richie,” Eddie hisses defensively. “I’m leaving today, remember?” he snaps at him, more harshly than he’d intended. He winces at his own words, but avoids Richie’s gaze, staring up at the ceiling instead.

“I know that, Eds,” Richie replies softly, his voice quiet and a little sad, and all it does is remind Eddie of why Richie is here right now. He’s been trying so hard not to think about it, not really. For the past week, he’s acted like nothing has changed, but now he has to face the fact that he’s leaving in the next few hours and… it’s just, this is all so fucking unfair.

He doesn’t want to go to New York. He doesn’t want to leave Derry. Or, well, fuck, he doesn’t want to leave Derry like this. He and Richie had promised each other months ago that they’d leave Derry together, that they’d apply to the same schools and leave at the same time and force themselves to remember each other if it was the last thing they ever did, and Eddie wanted that so bad, but then his mom had to go and screw it all up.

The anxiety and pain bubble up and over until Eddie’s blinking back tears, avoiding Richie’s gaze. He’s been pushing it all down for so long that it’s almost not a surprise that he’s falling apart right now, even if he doesn’t want to be.

He shouldn’t have waited until the last minute to talk to Richie, because now Eddie can’t even think of confessing to Richie when all he wants is to stay here.

Holding back his tears, Eddie reaches down between his and Richie’s body and scrabbles for Richie’s fingers. He takes Richie’s hand into his the moment their palms touch and hangs on tight. Richie jumps at the contact, but it’s only a moment before Richie locks their fingers together like they used to do as kids.

Eddie’s heart squeezes tight, and he bites his bottom lip.

Fuck, fuck, he’s going to lose this. In just a few short hours, he’s going to lose this forever, and he doesn’t know how to come to terms with it.

“Eddie?” Richie murmurs when Eddie doesn’t say anything else. He squeezes Eddie’s hand comfortingly in his, and waits him out. Richie is so rarely patient, but even for how much of a loudmouth he is, Richie has always known when to simmer down and take care of his friends.

And Eddie’s going to lose all of it.

“We can still try, right?” Eddie finally bursts out, his voice thick with tears. “We can still try to like… see each other again?” Eddie begs Richie, finally opening his eyes and turning his head on the bed to stare at Richie. Richie mimics his movements until they’re both staring at each other. Eddie has tears in his eyes that he’s trying to blink back, and Richie looks so, so fucking lost that Eddie wants to throw up.

“Of course, Eds,” Richie murmurs back, offering him an unconvincing smile. “You’ve got that list of schools we agreed upon, right? We’ll just pick one and…” But even as Richie suggests it, Eddie knows that it won’t work. There’s no guarantee that they’ll both get in, and even if they do, there’s no way to be certain that Eddie will remember which school they’d agreed upon.

Eddie suddenly lets out a broken sob, and rolls over to shove his face into his mattress. His arm hurts from the way he’s laying on it, but he refuses to release Richie’s hand.

“Eddie,” Richie whines, rolling into Eddie’s side and pulling him into a one-armed hug. “Hey, Eddie, don’t cry,” Richie begs him, shoving his face against Eddie’s cheek so that his cold nose is pressed against Eddie’s skin. Eddie can feel his breathing hot on his face, and wishes more than anything that he had the courage to turn and kiss him.

He doesn’t. He can’t. He’s crying too hard, and he can’t think of confessing to Richie right now when all Eddie wants to do is crawl into his arms and never let go.

He doesn’t want to go. He so desperately doesn’t want to go.

“Shh,” Richie whispers into his ear, rubbing his arm up and down Eddie’s side and squeezing the fingers of his other hand. “Hey, shh, it’s going to be alright,” Richie promises him.

“No, it’s not!” Eddie wails into his mattress, sniffling hard. Richie holds him tighter.

“Hey, you don’t know that,” Richie soothes him, “We don’t know what happens when you leave Derry, Eds, it’s all just —”

“You forget everything!” Eddie interrupts him, hiccuping over another sob. “You forget all of your friends and you promise to call and then you never do and — and — and —”

Eddie isn’t capable of completing that thought, merely continuing to cry into his stripped bare mattress. He’s getting tears and snot all over it and it’s gross, okay, it’s so fucking gross, but Eddie can’t bring himself to care.

“But we don’t know that for sure, Eds,” Richie reasons with him, voice so quiet and soft against Eddie’s ear. Eddie shakes in his arms but doesn’t answer. “What if… what if it’s not like that?” Richie suggests. Eddie goes to interrupt him, but Richie cuts him off and says, “No, listen. What if once you're on the other side, you just can’t communicate with those in Derry?” he asks, voice filled with hope.

Eddie wants to scream that doesn’t make it any better, but he doesn’t. He hangs onto Richie’s words, and begs the universe to let them be true.

“What if, once I get out of Derry too, I remember you and I come and find you, hmm?” Richie suggests, petting Eddie’s side. “What if we pick somewhere to meet in a year, and promise we’ll both show up? You can write it on one of your planners, and I’ll write it down in my old yearbook, and we’ll see each other again,” Richie promises him, jostling Eddie in his arms a little, and asking, “hmm? Hmm?”

Still crying, Eddie nods his head and says, “Okay,” even as he knows that it’s possible they’ll never see each other again. He wants nothing more than to hope Richie is right, that somehow this will all work out in the end. Maybe he’ll cross the Derry border and he’ll still remember Bill, and Ben, and Bev, and Stan, and maybe he’ll hunt down their numbers and they’ll remember him too, and they’ll all sit and wait for Richie to graduate so that he can come join them at last.

Maybe they haven’t forgotten, Eddie thinks, hopes… Maybe Richie’s right, and they just can’t reach us here in Derry.

Eddie sobs harder, the fear bone-deep that it isn’t true.

Richie continues to hold him, rocking Eddie gently in his arms as he continues to cry. He murmurs, “it’s going to be okay,” over and over again, like a mantra they’re both holding on to. Eddie imagines turning to Richie and pressing his face into his chest, imagines digging his fingers into Richie’s shirt and never letting go.

He imagines kissing him, and Richie kissing him back, and Eddie still having to get up and go downstairs and leave for New York.

He can’t do it. He can’t put himself or Richie through that. He can’t imagine how much it would hurt to find out Richie likes him too, only to lose him almost immediately afterwards. What kind of a goodbye present would that be for Richie, anyway, to leave him behind with all of his memories of Eddie still intact, knowing that Eddie has forgotten him? Or if Eddie hasn’t forgotten, knowing that he won’t be able to see him again for over a year?

Eddie can’t do it.

He cries himself hoarse, and then cries for a little bit longer, and then finally sits up and wiggles out of Richie’s arms. He rubs his face raw against the palms of his hands, and then rubs his hands against his jeans, scrubbing the tears away.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles regretfully, avoiding Richie’s gaze.

“It’s okay,” Richie murmurs back, and knocks his shoulder into Eddie’s.

They sit in another long silence, in which Richie drops his head onto Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie sits there and lets him. They don’t speak again until Eddie’s mom calls him downstairs, and then Richie grabs a pen and a piece of paper from off of Eddie’s desk, and sits down to write.

“Times Square, August 18th, 1993. One year from now,” Richie declares heartily, and nudges it into Eddie’s hands. Eddie takes it carefully, tears blurring at his eyes again. “I promise to meet you there.”

Richie’s grin is so young and boyish, filled with a fragile hope that Eddie is sure is reflected on his own face. Eddie forces a grin, and says, “I promise.”

When Eddie opens his eyes again, he’s back in that empty, white space, aching for what he’d lost. He doesn’t regret not telling Richie he loved him back then, especially not knowing what he does now. It wouldn’t have changed anything — Eddie still would have gone to New York, and by the time he was halfway there, he would have already forgotten Richie. He still would have gone twenty-two years without his best friends, and he still would have married Myra.

The only difference might have been that Eddie would have had one, last, shining moment with Richie before he walked out of his life for so long, but even then, Eddie doesn’t regret not doing it. If Richie means what Eddie thinks he means, if he wants to tell Eddie what Eddie thinks he wants to tell him, then Eddie is glad he didn’t leave Richie behind to suffer without him.

But that means that Eddie can’t leave him now.

He wants to go home. He wants a second chance. He wants to see his friends again, and have the life that had been stolen from him twenty-two years ago. He wants to see Richie and find out what it is that Richie wants to tell him, and even if it isn’t what he's hoping, he wants a chance to tell Richie that he loves him.

Richie stayed at his bedside for weeks, endured Myra and what Eddie can only assume was her hatred for a group of friends she’d never met. His friends had carried him out of the cistern and stayed with him in the hospital for as long as they could, and Eddie… well Eddie survived.

He wants to keep on surviving.

“I’ve made my decision,” he tells Maturin.

That same, grandfatherly air is in his voice when Maturin replies, “I am glad when I can help.”

Eddie asks, “How long has it been?”

“Fifty-eight days, Eddie Kaspbrak,” Maturin explains, and says, “Your family is waiting for you.”

Eddie smiles, because he knows that it’s true. He turns and faces the golden door, and without looking backwards, he moves towards it. It takes him fifteen steps exactly to reach it, and when he takes the doorknob in hand and opens it, the world goes black.

**

Eddie opens his eyes slowly. There’s a dull throbbing sensation in his head and in his torso and in his back that hadn’t been there when Maturin had shown him the Losers, and Richie, and Myra. It’s a new, annoying sensation that reminds Eddie he’s recovering. He can hear the heart monitor beeping behind him, the sound a little less steady now that Eddie is stirring, and there's light streaming in through the open window.

He’s groggy, unlike when he was in that strange, white, nothingness, and it takes Eddie a moment to realize that it’s because there are drugs in his system. It takes another minute for him to become aware enough to actually look around, and when he does, he’s disappointed to find that Richie isn’t in the exact same spot he’s been in every other time that Eddie has seen him.

Myra’s there, though, and she’s reading a book, her back turned towards Eddie. She hasn’t noticed that he’s awake yet, which Eddie has to admit is a relief. He needs another moment before he can even think of handling the incoming freak out he’s sure is coming

Eddie takes his first real, deep breath in a long while, and groans when it causes a searing pain to rip through his body.

Myra jumps, and turns to him.

“Eddie!” she shouts in shock, immediately dropping her book to the ground and reaching out with clammy hands to take Eddie’s in hers. Eddie recoils automatically, thrown off by her soft touch, and missing Richie’s calloused hands. He struggles against her, but her grip only seems to grow tighter, so Eddie gives up before he hurts himself.

“Eddie bear, how are you feeling? Are you alright? Are you in any pain, discomfort? Should I ask the nurses for more painkillers?” she asks him, leaving no room for an answer. A concern that Eddie hadn’t seen previously suddenly seems to reside in the soft, puffy grimace of her face.

Eddie hates it, recognizing for the first time in his life just how false it really is. He can see his mother in that look, the faux concern that had controlled Eddie’s life for so long…

Without waiting for any answer from Eddie, Myra immediately launches into a rant. “Oh, Eddie I told you not to come here! I told you that you couldn’t look out for yourself! I told you, didn’t I?” she demands of him, brow folding into a worried line, her lips trembling. “And now you’re here, in the hospital, and the doctors aren’t even sure if you’ll ever walk again! They said there could be brain damage, Eddie! Bain damage!” she presses, squeezing his hand between hers, and practically dry sobbing around the words.

Eddie doesn’t miss the fact that there aren’t any real tears, and he squirms under her touch. This all reminds him too much of his mother, and he doesn’t know how he’s never seen it before. Crocodile tears, they were called. Myra had been using them on Eddie their entire marriage, but this time he isn’t buying it.

“Where’s Richie?” Eddie croaks, finally finding his voice.

Myra immediately stops wailing, and stares at Eddie with wide eyes, as if she’s never seen him before in her life. Her mouth opens and closes like a fish, astonished. Then her face hardens, and she straightens up in her chair. The worry and concern are gone.

Eddie hadn’t answered any of her questions. Eddie hadn’t told her it was going to be okay, the way he used to when Myra made a fuss about something. Eddie wasn’t playing the docile husband Myra was so used to, and it was clear she didn’t know how to handle it.

“You mean that awful comedian?” Myra spits after a long moment, scoffing at Eddie. She finally releases his hand and tosses her hair over her shoulder, glaring hard at nothing. Eddie watches her bend to pick up her fallen book and place it on the table next to Eddie’s bed, all without looking directly at him. “He’s gone home, and it’s about time, too,” Myra says, her nose in the air. “He and the rest of your little friends are who put you in this position in the first place, and look what they’ve done! They’ve left you here all alone to fend for yourself! This is why you need me, Eddie bear. I’m the only one who can take care of you,” Myra continues in a haughty tone, talking too fast for Eddie to keep up with. His brain is still slow and sluggish from the drugs, but eventually Myra’s words seem to register with him, and Eddie goes still.

Richie went home? No… he couldn’t have. That doesn’t sound right. Eddie had just seen him, hadn’t he? When Maturin first showed him what was going on in real-time. Surely it hasn’t been that long since the first vision?

Besides, why would Richie have left? It’s been almost two months, and if Richie hadn’t gone home already, why would he go now?

Because it’s been nearly two months, and you still hadn’t woken up, some part of Eddie tells himself, and he goes cold inside. Fuck, had he been too late? Had Richie really given up on him and left, after all this time? Before he could tell Eddie — whatever it was he was going to tell Eddie?

A slow trickle of panic seems to make its way into Eddie’s brain despite the drugs, and he turns his head away from Myra to check the other side of his bed again. There’s no sign of Richie there, not that Eddie even knows what to look for, but… had Richie really gone?

Eddie’s heart plummets, and he frowns hard at Richie’s empty chair. He knows, logically, that it’s not Richie’s fault if he finally went home. There were no signs that Eddie was going to wake up any time soon, and it doesn’t reflect badly on Richie if he needed to get back to his own life now. Eddie also knows that this isn’t his only chance to ever see Richie again, he knows all he’d have to do is call him and Richie would come running right back but… Eddie wants Richie to be here now. He doesn’t want Myra, and he sure as fuck doesn’t want to go home with her.

Before he can really think about it, Eddie croaks, “You’re lying.” He’s surprised at himself for all of a moment, and then the thought rings true. It would not surprise Eddie at all if she was lying.

Myra stops dead again. Her eyes are wide as she stares at Eddie, clearly shocked at his words, and then they narrow.

“What did you say, dear?” she asks, sickeningly sweet, daring him to repeat himself.

Eddie grits his teeth and manages, “Where’s Richie?”

Myra glares at him. “I told you, he’s gone home, where he belongs,” Myra dismisses him easily, but she’s avoiding Eddie’s eyes. She’s looking somewhere around Eddie’s chin, and her chest is heaving like she’s holding back from screaming at him. Eddie’s eyes narrow, and he shifts on the bed, looking for the call button on the side of his bed. The moment he finds it, he jams his fingers against it over and over again.

He needs someone else in here to tell him what’s going on and where Richie is. Surely someone knows where Richie is, and maybe one of the nurses can go and get Richie for him. Anything would be better than being stuck here with Myra all alone, with her lies and deceit and crocodile tears.

Suddenly, Eddie wants nothing more than to be free of her right fucking now.

“Eddie?” Myra asks him, half-hysterical, “Eddie, what are you doing? Who are you calling?” she demands, grappling for Eddie’s hand and finally forcing it away from the call button. Eddie struggles against her for just a moment, until his chest starts to hurt too badly and he’s forced to stop, gasping roughly through the pain. Myra opens her mouth as if she’s going to say something else, but then someone knocks lightly on his room door and strides right on in.

It’s a dark-skinned nurse in green scrubs, her hair a little wild around her face, and the minute Eddie sees her he just knows that she hates Myra near as much as Eddie does. She looks like she’s barely hiding her annoyance at whatever racket Myra is making now, and she’s side-eyeing Myra in a way Eddie recognizes all too well.

Her eyes go almost instinctively to Eddie, however, and the moment she realizes that Eddie’s awake, she gasps “Oh!” entirely cutting off whatever she’d been about to say to Myra, and hurries over to Eddie’s side instead. “You’re awake,” she says, smiling down at him as she bustles over in front of Myra and starts taking his vitals. Her index and middle finger press against his pulse point, and she stares at his chest as she counts his respiration rate.

Eddie smiles wanly at her and nods. He means to ask her where’s Richie? but before he can, she launches into a series of questions of her own: do you remember your name, do you know where you are, are you feeling any pain?

Myra keeps trying to interrupt her, making a huge fuss about the poor lady “harassing” her husband, and demanding that she move out of the way so that Myra can hold Eddie’s hand, but the nurse merely speaks over her, clearly quite adept at dealing with Myra after nearly two months.

Eddie dutifully answers her questions, hoping the faster they get through this, the faster he can ask about Richie: my name's Eddie Kaspbrak, I’m in the hospital, I’m not in too much pain.

The first two answers are true. The third one, perhaps, is a bit of a lie. But Eddie doesn’t want the nurse to pump more drugs into his system, to make his head any cloudier than it is.

The nurse grabs Eddie’s chart from the end of his bed and begins noting things down as she talks to him. She reassures him that everything is going to be okay and that the doctor will be with him after he’s recovered a little more to discuss what’s happened. She asks Eddie to just stay calm and let her know if the pain gets any worse, and then reminds him that he’s doing very well considering his condition. She admits that he’s been in a coma for a couple of weeks, and pats his hand reassuringly as she says, “But you’re healing very well, Mr. Kaspbrak. The doctor will be glad to hear that you’re awake.”

Eddie endures all of this, and when the nurse finally seems to be done talking, he asks her a little impatiently, “Richie, where’s Richie?”

The nurse looks at him oddly for a moment, equal parts concerned with Eddie’s lack of concern with his welfare, and understanding of Eddie’s desire to locate his friend but eventually she smiles. “Your friend went down to the cafeteria about twenty minutes ago. He said that if you woke up, I should tell you ‘I’ll be back before you know it,’” she explains cheerily, a pleased smile on her face.

Eddie feels his chest fill up with warmth, and he finally relaxes, closing his eyes.

After checking over the monitors keeping track of his vitals, the nurse pats at his foot and takes her leave. Myra had shut up around the time the nurse was telling Eddie about his prognosis, and she’s still silent now. The silence feels heavy in the still room, both of them aware that Myra has just been caught in a lie.

Eddie knows, even before he opens his mouth, what’s coming next.

“Myra,” he starts, doing his level best to keep his voice steady.

“Oh Eddie bear, I’m so sorry!” Myra immediately wails, bursting into more fake tears. She shoves her face into her hands, and blubbers there. “I just — I just — he’s such a horrid man. He’s been horrible to me, Eddie bear!” she cries, her shoulders shaking, hiccuping around the words, and Eddie hates her. He hates her with every fiber of his being, because he knows that she’s lying, and he knows that she isn’t really crying, and he just wants her to leave so fucking bad.

“Myra,” he says again, interrupting her. Myra wails harder, as if she can drown out the sound of Eddie’s voice if she’s just loud enough. “Myra, listen to me,” he urges, his voice raspy and hoarse from the weeks of disuse. He can feel himself growing angrier and angrier with her until finally, he shouts as loud as he can “Goddamn it Myra! Shut up!”

Immediately Myra goes silent. She draws her face away from her hands and stares at Eddie in such stunned disbelief that he remembers the same moment he’d stood up to his mom a million years ago. She’d looked just as shocked as Myra does now.

Her eyes are red, and there are actual tears on her face, but Eddie isn’t falling for it this time. He can see right through it now, and he’s sick of it. He’s sick of being told that he’s weak, and that he can’t take care of himself, and that there’s something wrong with him, because there isn’t.

There isn’t.

He and his friends killed a supernatural space clown recently. Eddie is far from weak.

“Myra, go home,” Eddie says, and rolls his head away from her so that he doesn’t have to look at her anymore.

Myra makes a squawking noise. “What? Eddie bear, what are you saying?” she asks, her voice high pitched and strained.

“I want you to go home, Myra,” Eddie repeats, clearing his throat in an attempt to get rid of some of the raspiness there. It doesn’t help. “I don’t want you here,” he insists, glaring at the ceiling.

From his peripheral, Eddie sees Myra shaking her head. There’s a little disbelieving smile on her face as she reaches out to take Eddie’s hand again. Eddie snatches it away from her.

“Eddie, what are you talking about? You’re sick, and I need to take care of you, now,” she explains patiently, as if Eddie really does have brain damage. “I can’t leave you. I’m your wife.”

The very concept burns deep in the pit of Eddie’s stomach, and he spits “I want a divorce,” at her with as much vitriol as he can manage.

Myra gasps. “Eddie!” she shouts, appalled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about! You hit your head when that house collapsed, and now you’ve lost your mind!” she contends, beginning to cry again, big heaving sounds in the small hospital room. “I cuh-cuh-can’t leave you like this!” she wails, begging, “Please don’t make me go, Eddie bear!”

Myra throws herself at Eddie, as dramatic as possible even now, and clings to his arm. Disturbed, Eddie fights against her, straining his body and crying out in pain with each jerky movement. “Myra, get off me!” Eddie yells at her, “You’re hurting me!” he objects, gasping when he pulls too hard to the right and feels his body scream in protest at him.

Immediately, Myra releases him, looking miffed.

“Eddie bear, you’re hurting me,” she whines, and takes his hand roughly in hers again. Eddie doesn’t manage to dodge the touch this time, but he does reach over the side of his bed and slam his fingers into the call button again, still wrestling against his wife.

Myra gasps. “Eddie!” she cries, “What in the world are you doing? Why are you acting like this?” she whines, finally releasing Eddie as the same nurse from before turns the corner into Eddie’s room.

Before Eddie can so much as open his mouth, Myra demands, “Nurse —” and then cuts herself off without completing the title, as if she’d never gotten around to remembering the nurse’s name. She seems to shake it off quickly enough, as flippant as she’s always been with people whose jobs she thinks are beneath her notice. “My husband has clearly lost his mind,” she alleges angrily. “I think he needs to be put back to sleep until he calms down. He’s speaking absolute gibberish, and I implore you not to listen to a thing he says!” she demands very seriously, crossing her arms over her chest with her left hand facing outward, her wedding ring glistening under the fluorescent lights — some kind of poignant gesture meant to intimidate.

The nurse stares at her for a long moment, her mouth turned down into a deep frown. Something about her expression suggests that Myra has been making impossible demands of her for weeks, and she looks just about fed up with it. She turns her gaze onto Eddie and asks him, “What’s going on here, Mr. Kaspbrak? Are you alright?” she asks seriously.

“No, I am not alright,” Eddie explains hoarsely, clearing his throat ineffectually again. He can feel his head spinning now with the impossible flurry of activity he’s been putting his poor body through in the last few minutes. “My wife refuses to leave. I don’t want her here,” Eddie says clearly, staring the nurse down and begging her to listen to him.

The nurse considers him carefully for a long moment, before turning to Myra. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” she starts, only for Myra to start screaming over her.

“You can’t make me go, I am his wife!” she screeches. “I am his primary caregiver, and you have to listen to me!” Myra insists, standing and stomping her foot against the ground.

The nurse glares at her, arms crossed over her chest. “Ma’am, you are disturbing my patient,” she starts, only for Myra to scream, “He’s my husband, and he is in a very fragile state of mind right now!”

The nurse argues back, “Your husband seems to be in complete control of his faculties, and until the doctor has assessed him fully and decided whether or not he needs someone else to make his decisions for him, it is my job to comply with any reasonable requests he may have!”

Myra stomps her foot again, and goes red in the face.

“He’s just woken up from a coma!” she bellows, “He needs me!”

“He needs medical treatment, ma’am,” the nurse shoots back, and points to the door. “And you are impeding his healing. I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Do not make me call hospital security,” she declares darkly, and stares Myra down.

Myra’s lip wobbles. Her hands clench into fists at her side, over and over and over again, until she finally slumps, defeated. Her eyes are a storm of anger when she turns to grab her things, her movements hostile. She doesn’t touch Eddie again, but her gaze says we’ll talk about this later.

Eddie doesn’t care, as long as she’s out of his room. His hands are shaking, and it takes him a long moment to realize that his heart rate has spiked as well. His breathing is a little uneven, something that seems to concern his nurse, because the moment that Myra has left the room, she’s at his side and coaxing him through a few breathing exercises.

Eddie’s just stood up to his wife for the first time in eight years, and through the foggy haze of pain, he feels nothing but relief.

The nurse fiddles with Eddie’s IV for a moment, and then pats at his hand soothingly. “We won’t let her back into your room until you give the say so, okay Mr. Kaspbrak? It’s going to be okay,” she says with a soft smile.

Eddie stares at her a little foggily. His limbs are beginning to feel lighter, his heart rate returning to normal, and some of the pain begins to seep out of him.

The nurse must have given him more pain medication.

Unable to process words at the moment, Eddie just nods his head gratefully at her.

She leaves after another moment of fussing, and Eddie feels his eyes start to slip closed. He doesn’t know how long he’s actually been awake, or how long he’d fought with Myra, but he does know that he feels suddenly exhausted. He doesn’t want to go to sleep, not before he sees Richie, but he’s not so sure he has much of a choice anymore...

There’s a knock on his door. Eddie snuffles at the sound, and opens bleary eyes, realizing after a moment that he had, indeed, drifted off. He shakes his head in an attempt to clear it of the fog there, and blinks at his doorway a few times, willing it to come into focus.

When it finally does, Eddie feels his heart jump in his chest.

Richie.

He smiles automatically, soft and bleary-eyed, as he takes in Richie’s face.

He looks the same as he had earlier, when Eddie had asked to see how the Losers were right now — scruffy, tired, and all bundled up in Eddie’s jacket. He looks warm and soft, and Eddie wishes he could hug him.

Richie, on the other hand, looks a little bit like he’s in shock, his lips twitching uncertainty, and his eyes wet with tears. He isn’t crying yet, but it seems like he might start any second. Eddie wishes he could stop making Richie cry.

“Rich,” he whispers, his voice somehow even more hoarse than when he’d first woken up.

“Hey, Eds,” Richie replies, his voice cracking a little. His lips are trembling even as he breaks out into a smile, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. Richie lets out a soft huff of a laugh, and then sniffles quietly. “Heard you were asking for me,” he says, his voice teasing, eyes twinkling.

“Yeah, asshole,” Eddie croaks with a fond laugh, and tilts his head in Richie’s direction so it’s easier to see him. “I missed looking at your stupid face,” he teases back, grinning softly.

Richie laughs too, his grin growing bigger as he steps into the room. He’s staring a little dopily at Eddie as he says, “Missed seeing yours too.” His lips wobble a little, and he swallows thickly, staring a little stupidly at Eddie. Then he breaks out in another laugh and says, “Glad to see you're awake.”

His eyes are blazing with something Eddie’s fuzzy brain struggles to pick out, but it makes him feel warm all over and reminds him of why he wanted to see Richie in the first place. He opens his mouth to bring it up, but Richie starts talking before he can.

“Where’s the missus?” he asks, dragging his gaze away from Eddie and frowning at the other side of the bed. His voice is more stilted than before as he makes his way to what Eddie now considers Richie’s side of the bed.

Right. Myra. Eddie sighs, and feels his shoulders relax a little with the knowledge that she’s not here. “Myra’s gone. I sent her home,” he explains, his voice coming out sort of raw and a little bit dazed, because there’s a part of him that still can’t believe what he’s done. Richie seems just as surprised, because the moment the words leave Eddie’s mouth, Richie is reeling back from him in shock.

“You what?” he asks, a disbelieving laugh bubbling up in his throat. “Eddie, you just woke up and you’ve already kicked your wife out?” he jokes, though his tone is more unsure than anything else, like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. He still manages to laugh, clearly unable to help himself as he stares at Eddie.

Eddie nods his head, not quite able to muster up any laughter of his own. “I also asked for a divorce,” he adds, sounding almost astounded at himself. He’d done that, hadn’t he? He’d really done that. Eddie goes to smile at Richie, ultimately proud of himself for standing up to his wife, but Richie isn’t smiling back. In fact, he’s stopped laughing entirely, and he’s looking at Eddie with a half concerned, half assessing glance. Eddie doesn’t know what to do with that, so he frowns. “Is that really such a surprise?” he asks warily.

Slowly, Richie nods his head. “Yeah, it kinda is Eds,” Richie admits, his voice a low murmur. His face is doing something weird that Eddie can’t figure out, but he doesn’t look like he’s going to cry anymore. Instead he looks… something. It’s difficult to tell with his mind so addled with the drugs, but he forgets to be confused about it when Richie settles down in his usual chair and reaches for Eddie’s hand automatically, holding it gently.

Oh, Eddie thinks to himself, and smiles. He grips Richie’s hand back and squeezes tightly, feeling reassured that Richie is here.

Surprised, Richie startles a little and looks down at their hands. When he meets Eddie’s gaze again, all of the tension seems to have drained out of Richie’s face, and his cheeks seem slightly flushed, like he’s been caught out. Eddie can’t stop looking at him and the way his entire demeanor seems to have softened. He’s staring at Eddie with this look in his eyes that feels so fucking familiar, and his lips are twisted up like he’s trying not to smile but he’s smiling anyway, and —

Eddie knows that look. He’s seen it a thousand times since they were kids.

For the first time, he understands what it means.

Eddie thinks he’s always understood, on some level, but after watching Richie sit as his beside for two months, after hearing him cry over Eddie’s broken body, there’s really no room to ignore it anymore.

Eddie takes a deep breath to settle himself, and squeezes Richie’s hand again.

“Richie,” Eddie murmurs, peering up at him ardently.

“Yeah, Eds?” Richie hums, still looking at him like Eddie is his whole world. Eddie shivers and doesn’t hesitate.

“You told me if I wake up,” he rasps, watching as Richie’s eyes slowly widen in shock, “You’d tell me something,” he continues, and squeezes Richie’s fingers hard.

“You —” Richie starts, shaking his head in disbelief. “I —” he tries again, and stops. “Eds?” he asks finally, voice having gone a little breathless. Eddie can’t tell if Richie is terrified, or just confused, but he definitely looks stunned.

“What did you want to tell me, Rich?” Eddie urges, heart beating harder with every second that passes. Richie seems to notice it too, because he glances behind him to the heart monitor and then back at Eddie with wide eyes.

He’s trying to figure out how Eddie knows what he said, Eddie’s certain of it, but there’s no way Richie will be able to put it together, not without Eddie explaining it to him.

He will. He’ll tell Richie all about it later, but for right now, he just wants to hear Richie say it.

“Richie?” Eddie asks, prompting him gently.

“Fuck, Eds,” Richie whispers, shaking his head. When he meets Eddie’s gaze again, he looks nervous. He starts to rub his thumb along the back of Eddie’s hand, before clearing his throat. “I, uhm,” he starts, tripping over the words already. He huffs out a laugh, and shakes his head. “Of all the dumb things I said to you while you were —” Richie stutters to a stop, avoids the words in a coma entirely, and continues, “that’s the thing you heard?” His grin is shaky as he stares at Eddie.

Eddie grins a little stupidly, and nods his head.

“Well I did promise,” Richie mutters to himself, and stares down at Eddie’s hand. His fingers squeeze reflexively around Eddie’s and then relax again, but Richie doesn’t say anything else. He just stares at Eddie’s hand in his until Eddie can’t take it anymore.

“I love you,” Eddie blurts out around the lump in his throat, and stares up at Richie breathlessly.

Richie’s gaze snaps back up to his, his eyes wide and a little disbelieving. “God, Eds,” he gasps, sounding absolutely stunned, and suddenly his eyes are wet again. “I love you, too,” he manages in a strained voice, and brings the back of Eddie’s hand up to his mouth to press a kiss there. His lips are trembling as he drags Eddie’s hand up even further to hide his face, and he sniffles quietly, exhaling shakily, like he really can’t believe this is happening right now.

Eddie can’t believe it either, and he lets out a giddy little laugh as he says, “That’s good,” a little fuzzily. “Because I’m not sure what I would have done if you hadn’t said it back,” he teases quietly, laughing again. Richie laughs too, the sound a little sniffly as he starts to cry for real, the feeling of warm tears starting to drip against Eddie’s hand.

Normally, he’d be grossed out about it, but this is Richie he’s talking about, and he’d put up with anything just for Richie not to let go of him again.

“Yeah, it’s not like you can run away right now,” Richie attempts to tease back, but his voice is hoarse and he has to clear his throat three times to get the words out around what seems to be a lump in his throat.

If he could, Eddie would shuffle closer to Richie, but whatever medication they’re pumping through him, Eddie can hardly feel his own body anymore.

“Eds?” Richie asks abruptly, finally lowering Eddie’s hand from his face. He places both their hands down gently on the bed, still holding on tight, and leans in close like there’s something he wants to say. Eddie smiles dopily up at him, waiting, and Richie laughs. “Oh my god, look at you,” he mutters to himself, and reaches up to cup Eddie’s face tenderly in the palm of his hand. Eddie nuzzles against it a little.

“Nevermind,” Richie finally says, shaking his head indulgently at Eddie, “You should sleep,” he suggests sweetly, rubbing the pad of his thumb against Eddie’s cheek. “I’ll be here when you wake up,” Richie adds in a reassuring tone.

“Promise?” Eddie croaks out, trying not to whine.

“I promise, Eds,” Richie whispers lovingly, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Eddie nods his head approvingly, still staring up a little dreamily at Richie. He knows Richie is right, he probably should sleep, but he doesn’t want to stop looking at Richie yet. He never wants to stop looking at Richie, has never wanted to stop looking at Richie — not from the moment Eddie met him. And now he doesn’t have to.

Which reminds him.

“Rich?” Eddie asks, blinking in an attempt to focus. His brain feels all foggy, and it’s beginning to grow really difficult to concentrate.

“Hmm?” Richie replies when Eddie doesn’t immediately continue, reminding Eddie that he’s trying to tell Richie something.

“L.A.,” Eddie breathes, shaking his head to clear some of the fog, “Need an apartment in L.A.,” he elaborates as best he can, trying to articulate the I’m never leaving you again that he’s too tired to verbalize.

Richie is silent for a long time, and then he says, “You’re coming to L.A.?”

Eddie smiles, and lets out a huff of a breath. “Yeah, asshole,” he mumbles, trying and failing to concentrate long enough to have this conversation. He blinks his eyes at Richie in an attempt to look at him, and watches as Richie’s face splits open into a grin. His eyes are fond as he cards back some of Eddie’s hair from his face.

“Yeah?” Richie teases him, eyes glittering, “What for?”

Eddie wants to roll his eyes so badly, but he doesn’t know if he manages it. “For you, fucknuts,” he says, aiming for patronizing and landing more on affectionate. Richie laughs at him, but it’s fond.

“So you wanna go apartment hunting, then?” Richie asks him in a tone that Eddie would normally consider teasing, except he can’t figure out what he’s being teased about. Frowning, Eddie nods his head. “I know a place,” Richie assures him with a laugh, “But there’s just one catch,” he explains.

Even more confused now, Eddie asks, “What?”

“It’s actually a house, and I’m already living in it,” Richie replies proudly.

Eddie blinks a couple of times in confusion, trying to piece together what Richie’s getting at, and then snorts inelegantly. “Shut the fuck up, Richie,” Eddie gripes at him, but he’s grinning as he lets his eyes slip closed, finally feeling like he can sleep peacefully now that everything important is settled.

Richie is still laughing at him when Eddie feels the medication starting to pull him under. He’s just giving in to it when Richie boops his nose and asks him, “You good with that, Eds?” in a tone so full of confidence that Eddie wants to smack him.

Instead, Eddie fights to open his eyes and fixes Richie with a look that he hopes is at least a little bit alluring. “‘Course, Rich,” he mumbles sleepily, the words almost a slur as he offers Richie a smile. “It’s got you,” he breathes affectionately, and laughs when Richie immediately turns bright red.

Instead he says, “‘Course, Rich,” as sweetly as he can manage, peering up at Richie enticingly. “It’s got you,” he murmurs coyly, and laughs when Richie immediately turns bright red.

**

6 months later

It takes a month after Eddie moves into Richie’s house in L.A. for the Losers to make arrangements for them all to come out and visit them on a Friday and stay for the weekend. Eddie knows they would have come sooner, but between Eddie getting settled in, Mike’s tour of the United States, and Bev’s divorce and subsequent re-settling of her company, it’s been a bit difficult planning a time that works for all six of them.

Unfortunately for Eddie, the Losers are set to arrive within an hour of his last physical therapy appointment for the week, and while Eddie had wanted to reschedule it, Richie had been quick to put his foot down. He’d made the point that Eddie’s physical therapy appointments were more important than looking nice for their friends, and while Eddie knew Richie was right, that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

He’s been in physical therapy for nearly six months now, something the doctors had started about a week after Eddie had woken up. As it turns out, Myra hadn’t been lying when she’d told Eddie the doctors weren’t sure he’d ever walk again, but he’s been making some pretty significant progress. In fact, he’s able to rely on his cane rather than his wheelchair for longer and longer periods of time now, and while the doctors say he’ll probably need some level of support from his cane for the rest of his life, Eddie is at the very least excited to have a sense of independence again.

Eddie knows it’s his hard work that’s gotten him this far, but he’s thankful for Richie’s voice of reason on days when Eddie can’t work up the energy to fight against his own limitations, and he’s glad to have Richie around to remind him just how important his physical therapy is, even if it does suck.

So now, he's in their bedroom attempting to quickly get changed out of his physical therapy clothes and into a nice pair of jeans and a collared shirt that Richie had laid out for him.

“Bill just texted me!” Richie shouts down the hall, his voice muffled through the walls but steadily moving closer as he continues, “He just caught a cab. He said he’ll be here in about twenty minutes!”

“Sounds good!” Eddie huffs back, finally managing to kick himself out of his sweatpants. His legs are still sort of shaking from the last hour of his workout routine, because his therapist has really started pushing him thanks to all the progress Eddie has made. Unfortunately, it also means that Eddie tends to come home extremely exhausted.

He’s just managed to grab his jeans when Richie turns the corner into their room with a huge smile on his face. He doesn’t offer to help Eddie get dressed, which Eddie is grateful for — sometimes he just wants to do things on his own, even though he knows Richie would jump at the chance to help him if Eddie so much as asked.

“What’s up?” Eddie asks, arching a brow at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning the living room?” Eddie grunts at him as he shoves his trembling legs into his jeans and begins to pull them up.

“All done,” Richie says with a shrug, nodding his head back towards the front living room. “I’ve vacuumed, taken out the trash, and cleaned up all the shit that should have been in the office,” he explains proudly.

“Thanks, Rich,” Eddie grunts, exhaling sharply as his legs spasm painfully and he’s forced to relax his body onto the bed. He’s got the jeans up to his thighs now, bunched just under his ass, and he’s temporarily given up. He knows he’s going to have to use his aching abs to lift his ass off the bed to get the jeans the rest of the way on, and he just isn’t ready to put in that energy right now. “What about the guest room?” he asks, turning his full attention onto Richie.

Richie nods his head immediately. “It’s all set for Ben and Bev. Brand new sheets and everything,” he reassures Eddie, leaning in the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, a challenging look on his face. Eddie narrows his eyes at him.

“And the air mattress?” he asks.

“Sitting in the office ready to be blown up before bedtime. And,” he exclaims brightly, waggling his eyebrows, “I’ve even set out pillows and blankets for both the air mattress and the pull-out. Sexy, right?” Richie teases.

Eddie laughs and rolls his eyes fondly, but it really is kind of sexy that Richie had thought ahead about all of this before Eddie could even ask him to do it. It’s just that they don’t have a lot of room to host their friends and they’re working with what they have. Richie’s place isn’t the largest of their friends’ houses by a long shot, and definitely isn’t the first place any of them would have picked to have a group sleepover, but Eddie’s still recovering and not really up for traveling, so all of their friends have graciously agreed to come to L.A. for the weekend.

“What about the others?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder at the clock on their bedside table. “When are they expecting to arrive?”

Richie hums and pulls out his phone to check his messages. His hair hangs cutely in his face, and if he were closer, Eddie would push it back with his fingers and comb through it. “Mike said he just got off the 90 freeway, so he’ll probably arrive about the same time as Bill, and Bev said she and Ben will be here in five minutes about… three minutes ago!” Richie replies cheerfully, grinning like a cheshire cat when he meets Eddie’s gaze.

“What the fuck, Richie?” Eddie chastises him, suddenly finding the burst of adrenaline needed to yank his pants up over his ass. He manages to balance himself on the balls of his feet in an attempt not to strain his abs too much, and gets his jeans all the way on, all while Richie laughs at him. “Why didn’t you warn me!?” Eddie yells at him breathlessly, sitting back down on the bed, red in the face. He thinks he can feel a cramp forming in his right calf, and decides that tonight is definitely a wheelchair kind of a night.

“Relax, Spagheads,” Richie shushes him, still chuckling lightly. His eyes are shining brightly as he pushes off the doorway to meet Eddie on the bed. He settles in close until he’s standing between Eddie’s legs, and wraps his arms around Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie cranes his neck back to stare at him. “You know they wouldn’t care if you’d stayed in your sweatpants and workout shirt, right?” Richie asks him softly, head tilted in a way that Eddie refuses to think of as cute.

Grumbling, Eddie shrugs his shoulders and says, “Yeah, but the last time any of them saw me, I was still in the hospital wearing that stupid plastic gown.”

The rest of the Losers had been quick to come back and visit Eddie after he’d woken up, and they’d kept up the visits the entire five months he’d been stuck in Derry, though he wasn’t great company and they couldn’t stay long. It had still been nice.

“I’m sure they’re going to miss that sexy sight,” Richie quips back, winking playfully at Eddie and reminding him rather abruptly about the way Richie used to stare at his ass through the stupid open back of the gown.

“Shut up, Richie,” Eddie complains, reaching out to swat ineffectually at his chest. Richie might have enjoyed the view, but Eddie’s pretty certain nobody else had.

Richie laughs, and before Eddie can land a strike, Richie catches Eddie’s wrist and leans in to kiss him.

It’s a quick kiss, more of a peck than anything else, and it leaves Eddie dissatisfied. He immediately pouts at Richie and tugs on his wrist in an attempt to pull Richie back in.

“So needy,” Richie teases, though he goes willingly. Eddie growls at him but chooses not to reply, instead drawing Richie in to press their lips back together again. He nips playfully at Richie’s bottom lip and sighs, tilting his head just so to deepen the kiss.

Eddie hasn’t let Richie get away with a peck like that since the first few weeks of their relationship when Richie seemed too terrified to do anymore, and now Eddie takes every chance he can get to deepen their kisses.

Richie pretends to hate it, but the secretive smile he walks away with every time isn’t nearly as secretive as he thinks it is.

“Come on, grumpy pants,” Richie says as he pulls away, the soft suction of their lips parting making Eddie shiver. “I think I just heard Ben and Bev pull up.”

Eddie frowns, but lets go of Richie. “I’ll never understand how you can hear shit all the way outside from here,” Eddie mutters and pushes himself to his feet.

“It’s because I’m blind, Eds,” Richie replies cheerfully, offering Eddie his hand wordlessly. Eddie takes it, but only because his legs are still shaking. “The rest of my senses have to work double time to make up for it.”

“You’re not blind, Rich, what the fuck,” Eddie mutters back, taking three shaky steps over to where he’d left his wheelchair next to the bed. He collapses into it gratefully and releases Richie’s hand. “And that’s not how it works,” he adds matter-of-factly.

“I might as well be,” Richie shoots back just as the doorbell rings. He drops one last kiss onto Eddie’s lips as Eddie gets himself settled in his wheelchair, and then turns to answer the door. Eddie watches him go with a small smile on his face, so fucking thankful that he gets to have this.

After everything he’s been through, he feels like he deserves at least this much.

It seems to take no time at all for the rest of their friends to arrive once Richie has let Ben and Bev in, and then they’re all squeezing in around Richie’s dining table. Richie ordered take-out — not Chinese — and filled up everyone’s glasses with the fancy wine from his wine cabinet. Eddie isn’t partaking because he’s still on a couple of medications and despite Richie reassuring him one glass of wine isn’t going to hurt him, Eddie isn’t willing to risk it.

Conversation starts out light that night, the focus more on how Eddie is settling in than his actual recovery, and Bev takes it upon herself to tease Richie mercilessly.

“Married life really suits you, Trashmouth,” she jokes, nudging him in the shoulder with her own, and subsequently knocking Richie’s body into Eddie’s. Eddie turns to glare at her balefully for it, but his lips are twitching uncontrollably at her tone of voice. “I didn’t know you could be so domestic. You’re quite the little housewife,” she teases him, gesturing broadly around the kitchen, and then nudging her chin out towards the living room. “I honestly assumed you must live in a pigsty, but Eddie has done a great job whipping you into shape.”

Richie gasps mock-offendedly, and says, “Why I never!” in a southern drawl, pitching his voice up high. “I don’t know what you are trying to insinuate,” he says primly, “But I assure you that I am a proper lady, and I don’t need no man to tell me how to behave!”

Eddie dissolves into giggles at the voice, leaning into Richie’s side and soaking in his warmth as the rest of them start to laugh too. Bill sounds as if he’s dying he’s laughing so hard, and Bev is giggling into Ben’s shoulder, her eyes wet with tears. Richie throws his arm over Eddie’s shoulders, and drags him in even closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

Eddie tries to roll his eyes at the casual affection, aware that Mike is staring straight at him, but he can’t muster up any real annoyance and recognizes that the expression falls flat. With the way that Mike smiles at him, Eddie knows that he isn’t fooling anyone.

“Oh my god, you two are so cute,” Bev coos once she’s gotten herself back under control, and she props her chin in her hand to stare happily at them. Eddie immediately turns bright red and frowns at her.

“Not cute,” he mutters at the same time as Richie says, “Cute, cute, cute!” and pinches Eddie’s cheeks. Eddie turns and knocks Richie’s hand away from his face, and then shoves his wrist down onto the table. Richie is laughing even as he moans “ow, ow, ow, ow, Eddie!” but Eddie doesn’t let him go.

“You know I hate it when you do that!” Eddie whines, carefully avoiding looking at their friends. He can already imagine the looks on their faces, and Eddie is embarrassed, dammit! It’s bad enough when Richie calls him cute when they’re by themselves and Eddie can’t hide the way it makes him feel — it’s even worse to have their friends witness the way it makes Eddie absolutely melt for Richie.

“I’m surprised you haven’t killed him yet,” Ben jokes, staring meaningfully at the way Eddie is still holding down Richie’s hand.

“Believe me, it’s a close call at least three times a day,” Eddie replies dryly, finally releasing him. Richie draws his hand up to his chest to cradle it gently, making exaggerated wounded eyes at Eddie that Eddie ignores.

“Eddie,” Richie whines, pouting at him, “You’re so mean to me,” he complains, knocking their shoulders together again. Rolling his eyes, Eddie leans in and smacks a quick kiss against Richie’s cheek until Richie wilts into him, smiling like an idiot.

Bev coos again, and Bill makes a retching sound. Eddie does his best to ignore them and grabs his water to sip at it, hiding his blush against the glass.

“Stan would hate you guys so much,” Mike laughs, shaking his head at the two of them, his voice only a little bit forced. He swallows thickly as he meets everyone else’s gazes, and says, “He’d say you’re disgusting, but we all know he’d really mean ‘I love you,’” Mike adds affectionately.

It takes a beat, but the rest of them laugh quietly as well, if a little solemnly, and glance at the empty table setting Richie had put out. He’d said they couldn’t have a proper Losers club meeting without Stan, and despite the way it had made Eddie feel at the time to see Richie preparing a seat that wouldn’t be filled, he’s grateful for it now. Eddie reaches over and squeezes Richie’s thigh, resting his hand there gently.

“I miss him,” Ben whispers softly, offering everyone a small smile.

“We all do,” Bill agrees quietly. They all quiet down for a moment, just soaking in the moment, thinking of Stan, before Bill finally clears his throat. Slowly, he raises his glass of wine into the air and says, “To Stan!”

“To Stan!” the rest of them say in unison, lifting their glasses in his honor.

After a long swallow, they each place their glasses back down onto the table, and smile at each other. Richie reaches down to squeeze Eddie’s thigh, and Eddie smiles up at him.

“So,” Ben starts, the first to interrupt the silence, “How are you doing, Eddie? Are you settling in okay?” he asks, waving his fork around in the air at them. The others nod their head in unison, repeating Ben’s question in one form or another:

“Richie better be treating you well,” says Bill.

“Are you sleeping alright?” asks Bev.

“How’s California treating you?” asks Mike.

Eddie smiles up at his friends and nods his head. “I’m good,” he replies, “I’m really good. California is… exactly what I needed,” he hedges, and, avoiding Richie’s eye, adds, “So is Richie.”

Eddie can feel it when Richie turns to look at him, and he doesn’t have to see Richie’s face to know what it’s doing — Richie has this way of looking at Eddie like he’s still in awe that he gets to have this, and Eddie doesn’t know what do with himself everytime he sees it. It’s an overwhelming feeling for both of them.

“Aww baby,” Richie murmurs, leaning in close to press a kiss to his cheek. He’s smiling, and it makes him smile too. “I knew you loved me,” Richie continues, and it’s obvious he’s attempting to sound teasing for their friends, but the words come out too sincere for anyone to fall for it.

Eddie’s heart flutters, and he feels his insides go all gooey, but the moment he catches sight of the looks on his friends faces — amused but affectionate — he squirms under the attention.

“Get off me,” Eddie grumbles, shoving at Richie’s chest lightly, his cheeks on fire. Richie doesn’t fight him, just laughs affectionately and pulls away without saying another word.

“I’m so happy for both of you,” Bev says warmly, her eyes shining. “You deserve to be happy,” she continues sincerely, reaching across the table to grasp Eddie’s hand in hers.

“Thanks, Bev,” Eddie manages to croak out in response, a lump in his throat, because while he knows what Bev is saying is true, it’s still difficult for him to internalize sometimes.

It’s Richie who eventually changes the subject, turning to the others and asking them what’s going on with them.

“Well, I’ve got a new contract in Dubai,” Ben tells them, shrugging modestly when the others cheer. “I’ve gotta head out there for a couple of weeks next Friday, so I won’t be around much, but…” he trails off, looks at Beverly softly, and reaches out to grasp tightly to her hand, like he doesn't want to leave her.

“But he’ll have cell reception, so don’t be afraid to harass him,” Beverly teases, gripping Ben back just as tightly.

Mike tells them about his tour of the United States, and how he’s been interviewing the locals everywhere he goes. He admits that he’s heard all kinds of amazing stories, and explains that he’s been thinking about starting a podcast.

“I just think that more people deserve to hear these stories,” Mike pitches hopefully, peering around at their friends like he wants their approval. “There’s so much culture out there that we’re missing out on, and I feel like if we just shared more of this stuff, there might not be so much violence in the world,” he continues passionately.

“I think you could really make a difference, man,” Richie says solemnly, and he shares a look with Mike like he understands exactly what it is that Mike is trying to do.

Mike meets his eyes, and nods at him, a silent conversation moving between them that Eddie isn’t privy to.

“And I’m about to launch my new summer line,” Bev announces excitedly, deftly avoiding the topic of the current legal minefield she’d been navigating for months surrounding both her divorce and her company. “All the designs are based on that summer,” she explains simply, obviously referring to the summer of ‘89 when all of this had started, “Because, despite everything, that was the best summer of my life.”

Eddie feels warm all the way down to his toes, because it was the best summer of his life too.

“Each look was inspired by one of you,” Bev admits brightly, and her eyes are sparkling as she looks at all of them, “and I fully plan on sending each of you your own special outfit.”

Eddie doesn’t even get the chance to consider what his might be before Bev meets Richie’s eye and winks at him. Eddie immediately lights up bright red, and turns a murderous glare onto Richie.

“I’ve got this really cute pair of little red shorts that I think will look amazing on you, Eds,” Bev teases all too knowingly.

“Richie,” Eddie hisses, but Richie isn’t looking at him. He’s an entirely darker shade of red than Eddie is — even brighter than those damn shorts were — and he doesn’t seem capable of meeting anyone’s gazes.

Eddie knows what Richie thought about those shorts — he’d admitted to Eddie that they’d kind of been Richie’s sexual awakening, and Eddie can’t even begin to imagine why he might have shared that information with Beverley, but he kind of wants to kill him for it.

It seems like all the rest of their friends seem to know as well, because as Eddie goes to kick Richie under the chair, the rest of their friends burst into amused laughter. Eddie doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and before he can launch into an argument with Richie over it, Richie cuts him off to pointedly, and very loudly, ask Bill, “So I heard you were offered another movie deal?”

Eddie slumps back in his seat, defeated. He’ll let Richie get away with it, for now at least. He makes no promises to himself about not bringing it up again when they go to bed.

“Oh, yeah!” Bill exclaims, as if he’d forgotten all about it. He composes himself quickly, red in the face from all of his laughing, and says, “That reminds me. The casting director asked me to let him know if I had any names in mind for any of the characters, and, well, if you’d be interested Rich…” Bill offers, trailing off and staring at Richie in question.

Completely distracted from his previous anger, Eddie looks at Richie with wide eyes, waiting for his answer, but Richie seems appropriately stunned. He stares at Bill blankly for a long moment, before bursting into a bright grin. “What, you want this ol’ mug to star in one of your movies, Bill?” Richie teases loudly, putting on a show. “You must really be desperate if you’re asking me,” he jokes, avoiding the question entirely with a self-deprecating joke. It’s obvious enough to all of them that Richie is deflecting, and the slight hysteria to Richie’s voice is answer enough for Bill, who merely grins at him.

“You can come down to the office with me on Monday, we can talk about it then,” he replies easily, turning away from Richie and changing the subject to the actual script for The Glowing and how he’s already thinking about a new ending for the movie.

Eddie reaches over to squeeze Richie’s fingers between his, but doesn’t say a word. He’s just thankful to Bill for the offer, because in the last few months, Richie’s been doing a lot of voice acting gigs, and has admitted to wanting to try his hand at acting. Eddie doesn’t know if Bill knows that, but even if he didn’t, the offer means a lot to both of them.

The conversation continues jovially, with Richie mocking Bill for his terrible endings, and Ben piping in with suggestions for the set. Eddie sits back quietly and watches, sipping at his glass of water. He takes a moment, when the others are distracted, to check in with himself the way his new therapist has been pushing him to do over the past few weeks.

He feels good, content to have all of his friends here surrounding him. It’s something he’d nearly given up in that weird, liminal space he’d inhabited while he was in a coma, and he’s so fucking glad that he chose to live, because he’s never been happier.

[bigskydreaming]

Hi! I’m confused on how to reconcile dick’s origins and his loving family with the haly’s circus is a tool of the court of owls info. How does dick’s childhood not become horrifying and fake if the court of owls were using the circus the whole time? Ppl that dick knew and friends with were probably evil right? Idk... have a great day, sorry for my rant lol-confused anon

Honestly, as many times as the circus comes up in canon, its very rarely been explored in detail so it really just depends on how you play it, I think. For me, the difference is complicitness. If the Court of Owls is heavily invested in Haly’s Circus and manipulates where they go and when and uses it as a training camp for their future assassins in a lot of ways, that unmistakably casts a pall over Dick’s childhood, it lends it a certain air of grim destiny....BUT that doesn’t have to equate to his childhood being a LIE....not if most of the people he loves and values from it were just genuinely good people who loved him and had no idea about the darker side of their circus. I think most of Haly’s performers had no clue, or don’t have to be portrayed as having one, and thus just because they were there, doesn’t mean they were complicit, and if they weren’t complicit, that’s what really matters when it comes to them.

That said, we know that numerous performers died young under mysterious circumstances, or disappeared when in their teens, and that these were the eventual Talons of the Court. BUT we also know that the Court wasn’t like....disappearing multiple performers at a time, and that the real secret of the Talons’ large numbers is their longevity and the fact that the Court had been doing this for a LONG time. So its not like Haly’s performers would have all been oblivious to a lot of their number just vanishing under mysterious circumstances, its more that the scarcity of it happening means it could very easily for a lot of the performers Dick knew as a child, been like, their own personal urban legend? Like, there’s an awareness that there’s something spooky or creepy associated with the circus, but not what exactly it is or why its that way, and there’s just enough deniability to it that for most performers, their personal reasons for staying with the circus outweighed the occasional reminder of this potentially creepy side of things, as a reason for them to leave.

I could easily see this playing into like, superstitions about Gotham in general, because performers who’d been with the circus their whole life or a long time or just had a stronger awareness of the disappearances in their history could’ve like, identified that these mysterious deaths or disappearances only seemed to happen when the circus went to Gotham, and like.....maybe there wasn’t enough info to know what it MEANT, exactly, or maybe some of them had connected some dots and had SUSPICIONS about it maybe having something to do with the creepy rhyme they heard when they were in Gotham once, about the Court of Owls, but without being sure who was safe to talk about this with, nobody ever really explored that idea in depth.....like, its one of those things where I feel like it could’ve been that the disappearances and ideas people had about what was behind them and all that, it was a Big Unsaid. Something that was present and there throughout the atmosphere of Haly’s at times, especially for older members of the troupes, but nobody really ever talked about it because just because they knew something was going on there doesn’t mean they knew what to SAY about it, or to whom....and these are the kinds of undercurrents that as a kid, Dick would likely have been oblivious to....or only aware of in hindsight. 

Like, I could see him years later reflecting on how now that he thought about it, the others always got weird and nervous about shows in Gotham or even the possibility of them, and nobody seemed to like Gotham for some reason, but he never knew WHY....and then when his parents were killed, that could have very easily slotted into just like....affirming that vague idea of ‘only bad things happen to the circus and its members when we come to Gotham’ without him ever consciously feeling a need to further explore that idea or awareness around Gotham....because on a gut level, it felt like he’d already gotten confirmation about something that he and the rest of his circus had always known as a kind of truism, even if they didn’t know why, y’know?

The only real sticking point in all this (well actually there’s two) is first of all, Haly and his family. We know they had some awareness of all this, and there was the Book of Names, and like, Haly and his grandfather knew about the Court in actuality rather than just theory, but its very doubtful that there was anything sinister to this knowledge on Haly’s side of things at least, and it seems pretty clear he was just a pawn operating under duress. That’s my take anyway, like, and it doesn’t make it OKAY for him not to have said or done more, but it makes it a tragedy rather than a betrayal, kinda? Like, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and though there’s things he could have said or done to defy the Court and their using the circus to draw their Talons from, he was probably painfully aware that any expression of defiance was going to simply get him and his loved ones killed as an object lesson to whomever they replaced him with, without much more than a slight hiccup in their plans.

And this is where being aware of the transformative power of fanfic and using it with INTENT rather than just going with the most utilized fanon tropes, like, is your best friend. Because thanks to all the gaps and superficiality in how a lot of this was touched on and dealt with in canon....you can make whatever you want out of it, all the more definitively if you know precisely what you want TO make out of it. 

For instance: do you want to preserve Dick’s memories of Haly as a kind, grandfatherly figure in his life, someone who would never have stood idly by and allowed the Court’s intended fate for him to happen? You can do that....by playing up the idea that Haly saw an opportunity come out of the tragedy of the Graysons’ death, to separate Dick from the circus, and thus the Court, like lean into the idea that he was all for notable public figure Bruce Wayne taking in Dick and thus keeping him in a new, bigger kind of spotlight the shadowy Court wouldn’t dare try and steal him from. Unless of course, he suspected that billionaire and old money Gothammite Bruce Wayne WAS a member of the Court, and that’s why he wanted to take Dick in, in the first place. Crap. Just thought of that, that’s an obstacle.

UNLESS unless! You have Haly trying all the more to get Dick to stay with them, at least until they’re out of Gotham again and he can end up in the CPS system of some other NON Gotham city, once Bruce does express an interest in taking in Dick, BECAUSE he thinks Bruce is a member of the Court, and so he’s so clearly afraid of Bruce for some reason that Bruce simply can’t reconcile with his own public image and can’t simply be simple fear of the upper class when Haly’s Circus is used to catering to such crowds and Haly’s always displayed an ability to navigate the currents of such shark-infested waters as the Circus’s ringmaster....no, this has to be something other than just public perceptions, Haly’s fear of Bruce and his intentions for Dick feels PERSONAL. 

Which perhaps makes Bruce come to Haly then as Batman, reassure him from that angle....which could in turn make Haly open up to him then and there about the Court and their obsession with the Gray Son, when he’s aware then that public figure Bruce Wayne isn’t a member of the Court and CAN offer the somewhat dubious (and double-edged) protection of that spotlight, AND at the same time, that he’s not some dumbass, but the Batman, with superhero connections and resources all his own that he can use to hunt the Court from the shadows and protect Dick that way too.

Thus giving Bruce forewarning about the threat of the Court (and hopefully Dick too, as I don’t think with this kind of storyline, keeping him in the dark his ENTIRE childhood would be fair or a good idea, even if it is understandable, like, there’s different ways to play this, but that seems doomed to backfire if that’s the road taken there).

Another thought about Robin and his bright colors and impossible-to-deny presence here though, actually.....what if part of why Bruce allowed Dick to be Robin at all was because it enabled him to kinda....extend the public spotlight Dick was in, as a barrier against the Court taking him....to more than just their civilian personas? Like, if Bruce KNOWS that Dick never had even the possibility of a normal life because even without him coming into his life, the Court was always going to be there, waiting for an opportunity to claim him.....then training him as Robin, giving him field experience as Robin, suddenly takes on a WHOLE different perspective as its Bruce actively giving him the tools to protect himself from an extremely SPECIFIC threat and fate....one that could strike at any time, one that wasn’t guaranteed to wait until Dick was an adult to try and take him so Bruce felt he couldn’t afford to wait until he was older to try and prepare him to be able to fight back, if they ever did come for him. Plus, as Robin, he was a BRIGHT figure in ways that are completely contrary to Bruce’s early start as an urban legend himself, something that could just as easily not exist as exist as rumored. From the moment Robin was a confirmed quantity, however, people were going to notice when and if he disappeared.....thus making it all the more impossible for the Court to quietly disappear Dick Grayson or Robin, without the rest of the hero community noticing too.

Of course, then you have to reconcile this with Bruce firing Dick as Robin....but there’s ways to do that too. *Shrugs* Just musing as I go here, tbh.

Or you can take the road I’ve dabbled with few times, the idea that a big part of why Dick ended up in juvie in that origin, could fanfic-wise be explained by connecting that backstory to the New 52 presence of the Court, and mashing them together so that the Court actually pulled strings after the Graysons’ death to get their Gray Son placed there until ‘they were ready for him’ and in the process wean him away from the morals his parents instilled in him and hone his willingness to fight and even potentially kill, by placing him in a pressure-cooker of an environment aimed at making him into a weapon. But the point here, is this is another more concrete way that Bruce could have even unknowingly thrown a wrench into their plans, by encountering him when he escaped from juvie (something the Court might not have been expecting, having underestimated him) and this leading to him taking Dick in himself, no longer trusting the city or the system to do the job they’d promised to do when they claimed to be taking Dick away from the circus for his own good. 

Here, even without knowing about the Court or its plans, you can lean into the idea that Bruce steered Dick away from their intentions for him simply by being a source and a reminder of kindness and kind people. Kinda play up the theme that rather than grow up to be their greatest asset, Dick grew up to be their greatest enemy instead, all due to the introduction of the one variable the Court hadn’t accounted for when trying to forge their ideal weapon....the kindness of a stranger.

My point with both these directions is.....even with the Court having a hand in Haly’s Circus and thus Dick’s childhood, that doesn’t HAVE to make Dick’s childhood, or his destiny, inherently a tragedy, because despite all the Talon fics out there, the fact remains that in canon, in the main timeline....Dick’s never actually ever been a Talon....he exists, much like he’s always aimed to exist....as a defiance of expectations, of determinism, of a fated destiny. And thus he embodies something he’s embraced over and over again, the idea that only he truly gets to decide who and what he is.....and by utilizing one of the above ideas in his backstory, you can put Haly or Bruce or both firmly on HIS side, and give them active roles in giving him the tools he needs to subvert the Court’s destiny for himself, and choose his own path.

So, ultimately IMO, the Court’s connection to Dick’s past really is just one more way in which his story can be what its always been....that of retaining his core self even in the face of tragedies, making a triumph out of resisting the world (or specific people in it)’s attempts to make him other than a hero.

(The other sticking point I mentioned, aside from Haly, is one I’ve never really been able to reconcile myself, because it relies so much on the ages DC tried to force down our throat with the New 52, and to which I say NAY, NAY DC, DICK GRAYSON WAS NOT SIXTEEN WHEN HE MET BRUCE WAYNE, THIS IS NOT A JOEL SCHUMACHER PRODUCTION AND YOU DON’T HAVE THAT WACKY AND INEXPLICABLE CHARM.

And that’s the presence of other acrobats who aren’t part of the Flying Grayson family act, like Raya and Raymond, who we ultimately see as being very aware of the Court of Owls by the time Dick becomes aware of them. And like. There’s a lot going on there, and I don’t entirely know how to make it work but largely because I’ve never been all that inclined or inspired to try, so I mostly just let that be, and lift elements of the Court of Owls and transplant them into and over pre-Flashpoint continuity, which I prefer overall anyway).

[nonstop-haikyuu]

Moon and Stars

Looking for Tsukiyama angst? Congrats you found it! Cause this shit really does hurt but don’t worry, there’s a happy ending! 

Warnings: Yamaguchi has a panic attack and knocks himself unconscious, lowkey self harm but not explicit , Hayami is a good friend (she’s also an OC), I think that’s all?? 

Word Count: 3010

Yamaguchi still remembers the day that Tsuki had given him the necklace. It was a simple crescent moon hanging from a silver chain. It was his ninth birthday and the blond child was pink with his embarrassment as he handed Tadashi the little box wrapped in dinosaur wrapping paper. The freckled child grinned up at his friend and accepted the gift, eager to find out what Kei had gotten him. 

Too excited to wait, he tore through the paper and flipped open the lid to the box. Nestled against a small bed of velvet laid the silver moon, glittering under the lights of the living room. Tadashi quickly pulled the necklace from its resting place then unfolded the chain as he asked, “Would you put it on for me?” Tsuki rubbed the back of his neck briefly then muttered, “Yeah, sure.” He plucked the necklace from Yamaguchi’s grasp and instructed the dark haired child to turn, clasping the necklace. 

He smiled at the moon that reflected back at him and murmured, “I’m going to treasure this more than anything.” 

Over the years, the necklace became a form of a good luck charm to Tadashi. He cherished the simple gift as he grew older and the volleyball team soon learned how important it was to him. Hinata was the first to ask why he always toyed with the chain during practice, especially when he became anxious about his serves. The freckled teenager smiled at the ginger’s question and admitted, “Tsuki gave it to me when we were kids. It’s always been sort of my good luck charm, you know?” 

Hinata smiled at the explanation then chirped, “That’s so cute! I’m glad he’s at least nice to you, the jerk face.” Yamaguchi gave a laugh and nodded, replying, “Tsuki’s always been a bit cold towards others, but I promise he’s really not a bad guy.” The curly haired decoy pursed his lips together, clearly not convinced by his statement, and muttered, “As long as he’s nice to you, I guess.” The pinch server laughed at the response then turned as Tsukkishima entered the gym, dressed for practice, waving to his best friend. 

Yamaguchi’s world practically revolved around Tsuki and he was painstakingly in love with the blond. But it all came crashing down halfway through their second year of high school. He remembered the day that his heart began to be broken by Tsukishima Kei, when he met the girl who would unintentionally start picking at the cracks of his heart. He was heading back to his class from lunch when he was first introduced to Sakiko Hayami. 

“Yamaguchi, this is Sakiko Hayami, she’s a transfer from Aobajohsai. She’s in our class.” Tsuki introduced the young woman, waving a hand towards his best friend. She was beautiful, with long dark hair that curled around her shoulders and gold eyes that seemed to gleam. Freckles similar to his own were splayed across the bridge of her nose and cheeks, something that he was surprised at. Not many people had freckles and he was excited to meet someone who had them. 

He bowed in greeting then chirped, “I’m Yamaguchi Tadashi, Tsuki’s best friend.” She flashed a bright smile at him after bowing in return and said, “It’s a pleasure! I think we’re going to be great friends.” He smiled brightly at her in response then glanced up at Tsuki, who was staring down at the interaction between the two. Meeting new people was simultaneously exciting and anxiety inducing but there was something uncertain settling at the bottom of his stomach.  

He remembers the heart-brokenness he felt when Hayami and Tsuki announced them dating. It was three months after she transferred to Karasuno and they had offered to take Tadashi out to lunch to tell him something. It was a Saturday and practice had gotten out early, he was so excited to spend time with them.  

“So why’d you guys want to go to lunch with me?” Tadashi asked, beginning to pick up a piece of chicken. The two exchanged a quick glance then Tsukishima answered, “We wanted to tell you that we’re dating.” The dark haired boy began to choke around his bite, Hayami reaching over to pound on his back, desperate to get him to breath again. They paused as the redness in Yamaguchi’s face returned then he croaked out, “Dating? How long?” 

The blond hummed at the question and answered, “About two weeks. We wanted you to be the first to know.” Yamaguchi drew in a deep breath then flashed a tight smile, murmuring, “Congrats you two. I’m happy for you.” They smiled at Tadashi in response and they returned to eating lunch. 

But at that point, he was sick to his stomach and the last thing he wanted to do was eat lunch in front of the love of his life while he joked with his girlfriend. Life was cruel and Yamaguchi wanted to curl in a hole and disappear from sight. From then on, Tadashi became a shell of himself. He declined Tsuki’s invites to hang out and avoided Hayami when he could, dodging them both in the hallway to the best of his abilities. However, completely avoiding them was nearly impossible due to the fact that he was in the same class. 

One day, Tsukishima decided it was time to corner Yamaguchi and demand answers. 

“Tadashi, we need to talk.” the blond stated, hurrying to follow the shorter teen out of their class. The freckled player glanced over his shoulder and mumbled, “I don’t have time, I have stuff I need to do.” He swerved in between the crowds of people, trying his best to lose his best friend, only for Kei to grab his wrist and drag him towards their locker. Yamaguchi struggled in his grasp briefly and snapped, “Just let me go! You have to go see Hayami, don’t you!” 

“Why the hell are you acting like this?! You’ve been avoiding Hayami and I since we told you we were dating! I thought you would be happy for me!” Tsukki yelled, pushing his best friend towards the stairway. Tadashi’s chest tightened at the harshness of his tone then his fingers circled the moon dangling around his neck and he mumbled, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve just been busy.” 

“You’ve been like this for weeks. My world does not revolve around you, Yamaguchi! You’re not the most important person to me.” And like that, he could feel his heart shatter like glass, with a few words. He drew in a shuddering breath and he yanked at the moon, the chain snapping at the pull, before he threw the necklace in Tsukki’s face. The blond caught the jewelry and glanced down at it briefly, surprise taking over his expression. Tadashi stifled a sob and choked out, “I guess I never really was, was I, Tsukkishima.” He quickly turned on his heel and stormed down the steps, eager to find somewhere to hide away from the world. He bumped into someone as he turned the corner to head outside and raised his head to apologize, only to freeze at the sight of Hayami standing in front him. 

They stood in the middle of the hallway, concern sketched into her beautiful features, then she asked, “Tadashi, are you alright? Do I need to get Kei?” At the mention of his best friend, he sobbed and jerked away from the soft hand on his arm, crying, “Just leave me alone, both of you!” It was clear that she was watching as he raced down the hallway, away from the two who had ripped his heart from his chest, smothering it into the floor. 

It felt like the world was crashing down around him, the clouds darkening as his mood worsened and he stumbled out of the school. It was as if there’s something crushing his chest and ribs, he can’t breathe, he just wants to breathe. 

Tadashi glanced over the school yard and spotted the cluster of trees, thankful to see that no one was underneath them for lunchtime. He crashed to the ground and gasped for air as the tears ran hot down his cheeks. He yanked at his uniform’s neckline then clawed at the skin where the necklace once laid, thankful for the air that crashed into his lungs and the pain that shocked his system.

He pressed a tight hand over his mouth to muffle the sounds of his sobs then pulled his hand away from his neck, surprised to see blood running down his fingers. Yamaguchi leaned against the thickest tree trunk and closed his eyes, desperate for the solace he hasn’t had in so long. 

Not even volleyball has offered him the freedom that he was searching for, not since Hayami and Tsuki began dating. He knew the reason behind his silence, the reason why he sat quietly during lunches. Being in love with your best friend was not the easiest thing to be, especially when he’s straight and had a girlfriend. Life was sadistic like that. 

Lightning crackled across the Miyagi sky and he tilted his head upwards, thankful for the rain that was beginning to pour. It would wash away the evidence of his blood and tears and hopefully take his pain from him. His head was throbbing from the headache setting just behind his eyes then he let out a scream, relishing in the thunder that covered the sound. 

He covered his face and continued to cry, hiccuping through the tears as his head slammed into the bark of the tree repeatedly. Maybe if he hit hard enough, he would be lucky enough to pass out and the storm would sweep him away. And god his wish was granted, his vision flooding with black. 

When Tadashi came to, he glanced around the room that he was now in, immediately realizing that it was not his own. In fact, at a second glance, he recognized the location. He was in Tsukki’s bedroom and dread struck the middle of his chest. He jerked up in the bed then he pressed a tender hand to his throat, taking in the knowledge that the scratches were now bandaged. 

“Oh finally you’re awake.” Yamaguchi closed his eyes at the sound of his best friend’s voice then muttered, “I thought you’d take a hint and leave me alone.” Tsuki scoffed and snapped, “Right because I’m going to leave you out in a thunderstorm, bleeding and passed out. Because I’m so much of a terrible friend that I would do that to you.” The dark haired teen blew out a slow breath and tossed the blanket off, snapping, “Thanks, but I need to go.” 

Tadashi scanned the room then found his blazer and button up, not surprised to see that the blond had washed the two while he had slept, though the blood from his scratches still remained on the collar of the shirt. He made his way towards the door, eager to get home, only for the middle blocker to snatch him by his wrist, insisting, “If you think you’re going to leave here without telling me whatever the hell is going through your head, you’re wrong. Now sit down and tell me what your problem is.” 

Tadashi drew in a deep breath and jerked his hand free from Tsuki’s grasp, snapping, “I already told you, it’s nothing. Just go back to Hayami. I know Fridays are your date nights, wouldn’t want to ruin your perfect relationship.” The blond narrowed his eyes at the harsh tone then realization settled in his features, accusing, “You’re jealous of Hayami? Are you serious right now?” The pinch server gave a bitter laugh then tossed his hands into the air, crying out, “Of course I’m jealous of her! She has everything I ever wanted!” 

Kei paused at the tears and began to wipe them away, only for the shorter teen to swat away his hand, muttering, “Don’t. It’s clear that you don’t care about me. Not anymore. Now just let me go, I have homework to finish.” The blond scoffed and cupped the freckled cheeks, hissing, “If that’s really what you think, then you’re even dumber than Hinata. I will always care about you.” 

“Not the way that you care about her. You’ll never see me the same way I see you. You just don’t understand, Tsukki.” Yamaguchi whimpered, fingers wrapping around Kei’s wrists to pull his hands away from this face. The blond frowned down at his best friend and snapped, “Quit talking in fucking riddles and tell me what the hell you’re talking about.” 

“I’m in love with you! I’ve been in love with you since we were nine and you gave me the moon necklace!” Tadashi shouted, gripping the front of Tsukkishima’s shirt. The middle blocker froze at the admission and his jaw dropped as he began to process the words. The shorter teen took advantage of his shock then jerked out Tsuki’s hold to race down the stairs, eager to get home and cry in peace. 

He managed to get his shoes only by the time that the blond made his way down the stairs and began to open the door, Tsuki’s hand slamming it shut. Yamaguchi jumped at the loud sound and turned to face his best friend, sobbing, “Why, why won’t you just let me go? Please, just let me go, I just want to go home and forget about this all!” 

“You’re not even giving me a chance to process this! Dammit, Tadashi! Why couldn’t you have told me sooner?!” Tsukishima shouted, smashing his fist into the door. The dark haired teen buried his face in his hands then cried, “I didn’t want to lose you! You’re the most important person to me and you’re straight! You’re straight and I’m so fucking in love with you, I can’t imagine a life without you! But now you’re with Hayami and she’s so damn perfect!” 

“I’m not straight!” The crack of his voice smashed through Tadashi’s senses and he froze at the admission. Kei wrapped his hands around Yamaguchi's wrists then murmured, “I’ve been in love with you since we were thirteen and you gave me my stuffed triceratops. I started dating Hayami because I didn’t think you were interested in me. I guess I was stupid for not asking.” 

The two stared at one another in silence, clearly unsure on how to proceed, then Tsuki’s phone began to ring, breaking their focus. He pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen then he took a deep breath. Hayami was calling. He answered the call then put it on speaker, asking, “Hey, what’s up?” 

“How is he?” her soft voice crackled through the speaker of the phone and Tadashi’s bottom lip began to tremble. She knew that Tsuki had taken him home. And she didn’t sound angry; in fact, she sounded concerned about his well being. She was an angel and Yamaguchi had avoided her like the plague. Some friend he was. Kei sighed and answered, “Physically okay. Got the scratches bandaged up, but mentally… I figured out why he was avoiding us at least.” 

“Was I right? Was he in love with you?” she asked. Tadashi stiffened at the question and watched as Tsukishima replied, “Yeah, you were right. Listen, I’m really sorry. You’re an amazing person and I want to be friends with you, but it’s just… he’s Tadashi. We’re over.” Hayami hummed at the explanation then chirped, “That’s alright, Kei. I understand. I really hope we can still be friends. Bye, Tadashi, I hope you feel better soon.” The freckled teen sniffled at her words and murmured, “Thank you, Hayami, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. I think deep down, I knew what I was getting into when I asked Tsukishima out. I’ll see you two Monday.” A soft beep echoed her words and Kei slid the phone back into his pocket as he murmured, “She’s too kind. I guess she was much more insightful than either of us was.” Yamaguchi gave a soft hum and stared down at the floor, tears still streaming down his face, then he muttered, “I guess.” 

“Tadashi, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you this sooner. And I’m sorry that I put you through so much. I hope that you can forgive me and that you’ll still love me the way that I love you.” Tsukshima admitted, pressing his forehead against his best friend. The freckled teen gave a soft sniffle then murmured, “You could rip my heart out and saute it for dinner and I would still say, ‘Sorry, Tsukki.’ I love you and I always will.” 

The blond drew in a deep breath at the admission and cupped Tadashi’s face before he asked quietly, “Can I kiss you? As the beginning of our relationship?” A small nod and a soft, “I would like that.” answered his question and he leaned down, pecking Yamaguchi chastely on the lips. A bright smile began to stretch across their faces as they backed away before the shorter teenager muttered, “I better get a kiss at least ten times a day.” Tsukishima rolled his eyes at the demand but agreed nonetheless, “Fine, whatever you want. But you need to take this back.” 

Tadashi furrowed his eyebrows together at the request and Kei held his hand open, revealing his moon necklace nestled in the palm. Tears bubbled up and he pressed a tight hand over his mouth to stifle a sob, murmuring, “I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean any of that.” 

“I know. I fixed the chain, since it snapped when you threw it at me. Looked like it needed to be changed out anyway. Now turn, so I can put it on you.” the blond murmured, motioning his best friend to spin around. Yamaguchi did as he asked and shivered at the cool metal taking its place on his neck. He glanced down briefly then smiled at the moon settled against his skin. He had his moon back. 

Tagging: @haikyuufairy​