#and yeah we still spoke every day but the letters were like. super important.

[kittlyns]

My best friend made an off-hand comment abt wanting us to write letters to each other so I bought some stationary to surprise her w a beautiful little letter. The problem is I haven't handwritten a letter to anyone since I was maybe 15 and I quite honestly do not even know where to begin.

[oftenderweapons]

Sooo, about the ask thing. First off all congratulations I love you and your writing 💜 you seem like such a nice, intelligent and funny person. But was thinking what if namjoon comes home drunk and guilty about something he did and vixen comforts him. Love u💋

Title: Drunk (&) In Love

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 2.6k

Genre: crack, fluff, (also, vaguely allusive)

Rating: 18+ cause THESE TWO ARE A MESS FOR EACH OTHER

Synopsis: apparently Namjoon's stag party went a bit too wild. Mostly since he was drinking guilt away. What could that possibly be about?

Trigger warnings: swearing, consumption of alcohol, horny!drunk Joon, he clumsily tries to seduce his fianceé in front of yoonjintae (second-hand embarrassment), stressing over vows, mentions of kinky letters, they discuss future and the fear of marrying young and pretty much out of the blue and they be mentioning the idea of having kids. Also, watch Vixen being the caregiver.

Author's note: Thanking the sweetheart @ironicarmy !!! I love exchanging WIPs and Beta reading! It was so fun and I AM LOVING YOUR WIP SO HARD IM GONNA EXPLODE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! can't wait for it to be out so I can fangirl in public LOLOLOL; also thanking @dopesportsoperatorzonk for this request! (I got your feminism ask, I promise I'm almost done, I wanted to have a quite thorough view before replying and I'm still thinking about some stuff, but it'll be readdy super soon!!!)

Here's my masterlist, btw, and enjoy 💜✨

You weren't supposed to wait up for him, but it was like your sixth sense was telling you to do precisely that. And your premonition turned especially accurate once you were met with the sorry sight of Namjoon hanging off Taehyung's and Seokjin's body, grinning as he saw you appear at the door, head to toe smitten, only to turn to his friends with a sneer as he realised you were wearing his favourite silk robe. The deep crimson colour seemed to spark the colour of your hair on fire, and make the lineaments of your face sharper, older, with a kind of allure he still couldn't understand. “Little fox,” he said, going grabby hands while his arms were still around his friends' shoulders.

You tried to keep your expression stern as you looked at the two men literally holding him up. “What is this? Didn't I tell you to bring him home whole and safe?”

Taehyung lowered his gaze to the floor.

“Is this your idea of safe, Seokjin? I expected better.”

“You know him. He did this to himself.” Yoongi spoke neutrally from behind the three.

“Yoongi. Him being a fucking grizzly doesn't mean he can hold his liquor. Bring him in,” you said, freeing the entryway for the triplet coming in, Yoongi in tow.

“We should have brought him to the dorms,” he muttered.

“Dorms?!? Aneeyo…” Namjoon babbled, shaking his head, falling with his ass on the sofa. “No babylove in dorms,” he said with a hiccup. “Hello, little one,” he purred, grabbing your hips and trying to pull you towards him.

You blushed and slapped at his wrists. “I'll deal with you later—”

“Feisty brat,” he spoke sultrily, making Yoongi shake his head while Seokjin and Taehyung snickered before being chastised by your scolding stare.

“How come he's drunk off his ass and the three of you are perfectly okay?”

“He's the one getting married,” Taehyung replied, matter of factly. “And yes, he was the one who swallowed a bottle of hard liquor without even flinching.”

You glance at Namjoon with a scornful expression.

He did some very drunk, very clumsy attempt at a wink that made you inhale as you desperately looked for a crumb of patient left.

“You'd better go home, before I smack you all on the head,” you said, shooing them off.

“You'd have to reach it first,” Taehyung muttered, making Seokjin giggle, Yoongi rubbing his face at the verbal violence that was about to come.

“Kim Taehyung. I may not be tall enough for your royal head, but your girlfriend is my best friend. I won't say much more because I'm sure your friends aren't interested in your ass getting bruised.”

Yoongi smiled smugly at that one.

“Hell yeah…” Namjoon chuckled from the sofa, one hand reaching for the back of your thigh.

“No. Not now.”

“Later then?” He asked with puppy eyes before they turned into a very tipsy version of his intense dragon glance. “You’re so sexy when you’re mean,” he rumbled, a hand reaching for your thigh underneath the robe.

“Kim Namjoon, if you don’t stop I will unwife you in this instant.” Still, the other three men in the room were a mess of embarrassed coughing and teasing snorts. “You can all go home right now,” you said with a curt tone.

“You’re not gonna be able to take him to bed by yourself.” Yoongi cocked an eyebrow as he spoke calmly.

“Mh, Vixen, take me to bed, please,” Namjoon murmured as he tried to seduce you, just as you looked at him and replied, “No need to take him to bed. He’s sleeping on the sofa tonight.”

“See? I told you she found out! She has a sixth sense for this stuff! She can sense it! She can smell fear! I told you!!!” Namjoon babbled, grabbing your wrist. “Little fox...” he cooed, making a fool of himself.

“Go home. All of you. Now.”

Taehyung was the first to leave without even saying goodbye. He knew he would pay for it. Seokjin was the next, saying bye to Namjoon very briefly before bowing to you — just slightly. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, goodnight,” he apologised, making his way out.

“Yoongi?”

He rubbed his neck. “I’m sorry. Really. I— I didn’t do my job.”

You shook your head. “This is a mess I’ll have to deal with.”

“You know you’ll kind of have to deal with him for the rest of your life, right?” Yoongi looked at Namjoon, head in his hands, fingers tugging at it nervously.

You followed his gaze, meeting Namjoon in the poorest of states. “I know. He’s my business now. Go.”

Yoongi left without much resistance after that, the door of your apartment finally shutting for good.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon said, staring up at you as you stood before him. “I fucked up, I’m sorry.”

You placed your hands on his cheeks. “What happened, Joonie bear?”

He shook his head, lip going wobbly. “I’m so sorry!” he babbled again, eyes glossy with unshed tears.

“Oh, no, baby…” you managed to whisper before he dove for your lap, burying his face there. “What happened, love?”

He shook his head.

“Nothing’s gonna change the fact that I love you, big bear.” You caressed his hair as his voice confessed, half-muffled against your tummy.

“I sneaked a look at the dress.” You could hear his words coming out from a pout.

“Joonie—”

“Please don’t unwife me!” He cried out, his voice way too high pitched. “I don’t want to sleep alone ever.” He hugged your legs and held you closer. “I want to sleep next to you until I die.” He got even more emotional as he went on. “I want you to always pet my hair and tell me you’re proud of me and cook for me and be my sweetheart and my babylove and my little fox forever, even when we’re old and I get bald.”

You smiled and invited him to let go of your legs before sitting down, your legs slightly parted laying across the sofa. “Come here, big bear,” you said, patting your stomach. He did as he was told, laying his head below your chest and stretching his long body all over the seat. He struggled a little, his sense of balance temporarily worse than usual. “Soon I’ll be lawfully your bride. Forever. We’re almost there, honey. Just a week.”

He nodded.

“And then I’ll be your little fox until I’m nothing but ashes. And then some,” you reassured him, petting his lovely head, digging your fingers into the knots in his upper back.

“Writing the vows was so difficult.”

“I know baby,” you kept rubbing at his trapezoi until he released a relieved grunt. “I know that must have been really stressful for you.”

“I had to rewrite them sixteen times. Sixteen!” His hand absentmindedly reached your thigh and started rubbing small circles there. “Everytime, they were too long, or too cliché, or something I just couldn’t read in public because you know our letters.”

“I know our letters,” you confirmed, thinking about his messy handwriting on cheap paper, and entire sheets of words that he sent you everytime something important happened, everytime he had to travel for his job, everytime he just needed to make love to you on a deeper level. And then, thinking of your replies, always heartfelt, emotional, with fine calligraphy on expensive ivory sheets often marred with rough spots where a tear fell — most of the time because of joy and gratitude and obliterating, overwhelming love. “Will you read to me the other sixteen versions too, once we’re alone?”

He nodded. “I’ll read them all. I’ll write new ones every day. Small, simple, absolutely mundane. Stuff like, ‘I’ll do the dishes tonight’, or ‘Let’s go out for dinner’, or ‘I wanna grow old with you’ or ‘I don’t wanna watch that porn tonight, let’s just stare into each other’s eyes while naked and have the best tantric sex ever performed’.”

You chuckled and placed your hand atop of his. “I like the last one.”

“But I couldn’t say it in front of your parents, therefore I couldn’t write it in our vows.” He scoffed and shook his head before planting it between your breasts, nosing at the lapels of the robe until he could kiss your naked skin.

“I might have written something along those lines in one of my drafts.” Having this conversation with Namjoon while he was halfway drunk off his ass was extremely entertaining; however, you felt sad at the possibility of him not remembering this moment.

“What else did you write in that draft?” He closed his eyes, waiting for your soft voice to calm him down.

You smiled and slightly teared up at the thought, his chin propped on your chest, one of his thumbs reaching out to dry up a tear. “I wrote that I hope I get to make you smile every day and see that insanely cute and sexy dimple of yours every morning after you wake up. And I want to be the only one listening to your deep bedroom voice waking me up. And I want to listen to you as you talk to our children. I wanna hear all the stories, and watch your smile shine on their faces.”

Namjoon hid his face against your chest, feeling tears roll down his cheeks.

“I want them to have your eyes. I want to see your complete wonder as they learn about the world, as you teach them about the world in that grand and beautiful way you see it.” You sniffled and he cupped your face, kissing your lips so slowly, the heavy tang of liquor barely tainting the moment.

“I want to walk by your side, until we’re too tired to walk and watch time pass by, without worries, without haste. I don’t care where we’re walking because you were the place I was destined to be.”

Namjoon couldn’t explain tenderness or love or devotion or faith as deep as the ones he felt for you. He probably wasn’t skilled or trained enough.

“I know we’re young. I know this is more of a bet than an actual marriage. I’ve seen people who have been together for years part ways so easily and I don’t even know why you said yes to me. Sometimes I doubt I’m deserving and I see in how many ways I’m lacking and I ask myself, 'why the hell did she say yes to me?' ” He snickered sarcastically. “I wouldn’t have said yes to myself.”

You shook your head and kissed his brow.

“But I’ve been with other people and you have too and… I don’t know, sometimes I feel like this will take a lot of effort but then I hear you laugh, I hear you calling my name and I know, I can feel that that’s what it is supposed to sound like.”

You smiled at him, fixing your position so he could lay on you without worrying about smashing your body.

“I’m so confused and so grateful for this. It’s like… Suddenly winning the lottery. One minute you’re just a person and next you realise you’re going to be a husband. And you don’t know what’s going to happen to you, how your life is going to change, but with you I’m not scared.” He chuckled. “Well, I am. But you make me braver than my fears. And I know I could lose you any day. I could fuck up, or we could just drift apart or something. But any moment spent with you is bigger. It’s better and brighter.”

By now you were a teary mess, face drenched in tears, his arms around your torso as he held onto you. “My soul has found a home in you and I will cherish it. I’ll take care of that home. I’ll make sure nothing damages it. I’ll help you work on it if you want to change it. I will make more room when our family gets bigger. I will fix it when I can. I’ll stay by your side when I’m not skilled enough to heal you. To fix you.” He sniffled, voice hollow and weak as he spoke through a lump in his throat. “And I’ll leave if you ever ask me to.”

You shook your head and hugged him, letting him sob in your arms. “I hope I never lose you.”

“Don’t be a silly bear,” you comforted him, lulling him, holding him close to your heart. “I’ll be your bride. Your spouse. Your wife.” You kissed his head. “And your home. Your relief. Your dirty, secret affair. Your devoted companion too. Your goddess and your toy. I’ll be your friend. And the mother of your children, when we want to.”

God, if he wanted to… But first, he needed to enjoy having you all to himself for a couple more years. Just to make sure you hadn’t been both bold and immature and absolutely stupid about getting married almost two years after meeting for the first time.

“So I’m not getting unwifed for sneaking a peek at the dress?”

You shook your head. “It looks completely different once worn.”

“Really?” His expression exploded with euphoria.

You smiled. “Really.”

His drunken grin was back. “So I’m gonna sleep on the bed right?”

You acted as if you were even thinking about it. “You’re really drunk.”

“I’m soberer now.”

“And you embarrassed me in front of your friends,” you reminded him with a cocked eyebrow.

“Not my fault my wifey’s so hot,” he said with a slightly more accomplished wink.

“Not your wifey yet,” you reminded him.

He tutted. “Just a matter of days.” He kissed your sweet spot, on the side of your neck. “It’s only a technicality.”

You looked at him suspiciously. “A technicality, you say?”

He nodded and held you tighter.

“This technicality could still leave you at the altar, waiting,” you teased.

“Come on, I want to sleep next to you.” He kissed your cheek. “On our bed.” He kissed you again. “Where we’ll be making so many babies.”

“Stop right there, mister.” You placed a finger against his plush lips before you shook your head no. “No babies for a few years. I want you all mine, hubby.”

He chuckled and pressed his forehead against your chest bone. “Okay, fine, but I just meant hypothetically. You know, for practice.”

“Yeah, I think I could use some practice. I want to be perfect at it.”

He smiled and kissed your nose. If only she knew how perfect she is, he thought, haphazardly sitting up and waiting for you to help him on his feet, the whole discourse sobering him up enough that he managed to sit on the bench in the bathroom as you washed his face and brushed his teeth, as you undressed him and helped him in the shower, undressing and joining him, his body too tired and unstable to initiate anything fancy.

And then you towelled him up, rubbing body lotion on his always-too-dry legs before helping him in his boxers.

And through the process, he understood how it was that you loved him so much anytime he got you ready for bed. He should let you do this more often. Especially when he wasn’t exhausted or drunk, so he could properly enjoy being cuddled and fondled and babied.

What he didn’t expect was for it to feel so comfortable when you slid up against his back on the bed, spooning his ridiculously large body with your smaller one. “Sleep tight, big bear,” you said before kissing his nape. “Eight more sleeps and we’ll be married.”

He smiled. “Goodnight, little fox.” And with that, he caught your hand in his and fell asleep.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 29

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: smut (18+, underage DNI)

A/N: its angst season again!!

NEXT CHAPTER

Bucky held the old phone against his ear as he waited for Natasha to pass the line onto Steve, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Once again, there were no news coming from them. There’s not enough evidence for us to even make a guess, he’d tell him every time he called the super soldier. It did not matter how many hours he spent on the phone, a team of synthesoids, witches, spies and super soldiers couldn’t bring upon themselves to figure out who was threatening his girlfriend. His mind couldn’t stop going to the worse places. If he didn’t figure it out, who would?

   - Buck, we can go through the record off people who got into her building but do we even know if it’s the same person? 

   - It has to be, Steve. Go through the records, check for anyone who isn’t from the building.

   - Have you asked Y/N who she thinks might be? 

   - No, I didn’t tell her. - he gulped. - I promised her she’d be safe. I’m not gonna tell her. 

   - That is a ter ... - the line broke down and before he could call out for Steve’s name again, he heard Y/N’s voice right behind him. 

   - When were you gonna tell me? - she held up the letter in front of his face and he swore all the colour drained from his face. - Bucky, when were you gonna tell me? How long have you known? Where did this come from?

Bucky dropped the phone to the holder, visibly gulping at the sight of his girlfriend holding the letter he had sworn not to let her see. However, except of seeing the fear she had displayed the first time it happened, she was upset, mad even with that hidden type of serene look which he was sure would scare any army. She put the letter on the table, crossing her arms at him. 

    - It came yesterday. I don’t know if it actually arrived yesterday but that’s when I got it from the post box.

    - Why didn’t you tell me? - she sighed looking down at her feet, one hand holding her weight on the table. Bucky’s jaw locked, eyes moving from side to side before he wrapped his hand around her forearm and led her into the bedroom. Last thing he needed was for her whole family to know not only was he terrible at his job, he was also terrible at being her boyfriend. First fight in her parents’ home ... you can’t fuck up any further Barnes. - James, I’m not toying around.

     - I thought it wasn’t important. - he lied. 

     - They found my family home, James. It is important and you hid it from me. Why did you even open my mail? 

     - I hoped to be able to find who did it before I told you. I didn’t want to ruin your Christmas. - he put his hands in his pocket. She narrowed her eyes at him, arms crossed over her chest. 

     - Is that why you don’t wanna kiss me or touch me? You ... Do you ... You agree with they called me? - she frowned, her own anger replaced by her own insecurities. Bucky blinked slowly as if he was processing what she had said, not believing the words which had came out of her mouth. - I ... I didn’t mean to be too forward, I jus ...

     - No. No, no, no, no ... - he walked so fast he was almost running, holding her by her arms. - No. I don’t agree with them, I would never agree with it.

   - Then ... are you really not in the mood and I just made a complete idiot of myself?

   - I don’t, no, I just feel like I failed you, failed my job. - he cupped her face in his hands, trying to find her gaze but she refused to look at him. - I don’t want to fail you, everyone but you. I’m sorry I kept it from you, I thought that you’d feel safer if you didn’t know.

    - So you thought keeping me in my own delusion was the best thing to do?

    - I’m sorry. - he leaned his forehead against hers. She looked up, into his baby blue eyes as her hand hoovered over his arm. - I didn’t want ... I didn’t mean to delude you. 

    - You didn’t fail me. - she brought his hand up to her lips, kissing the back of it before leaning her face against it. - It is not your fault that letter came in.

    - But I should know who it was ... or at least Steve should. He’s proving himself to be quite useless ... - he grumbled on, which made her hold in her laughter by biting the inside of her lip. - I’m sorry, dollface. I really am.

     - If you ever kiss my head when I’m trying to kiss you ever again, we will have severe problems. - she pointed her finger jokingly at him. 

     - Heard it loud and clear, princess. - he pulled her arm so she was chest to chest with him as if they were about to dance. - Just so we’re clear, I do not agree with those letters. 

      - Please don’t hide things from me. - her ring finger traced his cheekbone softly. - I can’t stand it from everyone but I personally can’t stand it coming from you. You’re the only one in my corner.

     - I’ll always be in your corner but I will want to protect you and I will sometimes do something stupid. 

      - Why do something stupid when you could do me? - she looked at him with that little shy grin which was just always so endearing to him. Bucky chuckled, leaning down to kiss her. It was a short kiss, broken by him merely to look at her pout.

     - You’re getting frisky, princess? 

     - Well, you did lose your chance to see what’s under my robe. - her fingers slightly rose the hem of her robe to show a bit of her lace garter before dropping it to grab her dress. - But I do need to grab some takeaway.

    - I’m going with you. - he followed into her own ensuite bathroom, but she stopped him, holding the door edge in her hand. - You were going to show it to me anyway. 

     - Next time don’t hide stuff from me. - she smiled before locking the door leaving him alone while she got dressed in a jumper like dress. Bucky leaned his forehead against the door, his mind going haywire as the minute she was gone he immediately started thinking of how he hadn’t found who was sending those letters. How come no one had figured it out? Surely whoever had done it couldn’t be that  good at covering their tracks unless they were a professional. Y/N exited the bathroom in her jumper dress and put her hands on the nape of his neck. Bucky took that opportunity to rise up the hem of her dress, watching the soft white stocking reach its end where it connected to her garter. - No, Bucky. No. 

     - When did you have this? I’ve never seen you wear it before. - he tried to pull it upwards a bit more but she stopped him by merely wrapping her hand around his wrist. - Did you buy it for me, princess?

    - Oh no, I wore this when I was 20. In front a 150 people audience. 

    - What? - he looked as confused as the day someone explained what the internet was to him. - Someone else has seen it? Why can’t I see it?

    - Because you’re not in the mood. - she walked away to grab her coat and her scarf. - Are you coming?

    - Oh, in more ways then one, princess. - he too grabbed his jacket, following her down the stairs.

He held her hand as they stepped outside, going into a mode he wasn’t used to going into very often. Everything and everyone was suspicious to him and at any moment, he felt like he was ready to kill someone with only a snap of his fingers. Bucky wanted that and at the same time he didn’t want it. It was a hard duality, that of wanting to defend her at all costs and ensure she was the happiest and that of wanting to just bask into how it felt to be hers, because, god, did it felt god to be hers. It was like waking up in spring mornings and all his mistakes seemed to fade whenever she smiled, the way her nose scrunched up and she hide her mouth with her hands, saying her smile was much to ugly for him to see it. Of course she was lying, her smile was the cutest thing. Yet, he wanted her safe, he wanted her to be endlessly happy. He could never get rid of his demons, of what they had done to him, but he could make sure no one hurt her, no one treated her like a commodity because she was everything but that. 

    - Claire said Aunt Petunia corned you about babies. - she spoke out as they waited on the line. - I’m sorry, I keep telling her not to but I think she’s in competition with her friend about it. 

     - It’s okay. - he chuckled. - Do you want one?

     - Baby?

     - Yeah, do you want a kid someday?

     - I do but only one. I think my mum and dad lost a pound of hair each time me and my siblings bickered. Besides, Colin almost made me believe you were cheating on me.

    - What?

    - Yeah. I was desperate, I called Chuck for help. Chuck. Also, I think he’s dating.

    - Circling back to the baby question ... would you consider a baby, maybe you and me have one, someday?

    - You want to have a baby with me? - she peered up from looking at her shoes to look at him. Bucky immediately regretted the question, she was young and probably not thinking about kids. - Buck?

    - Forget it.

    - No, Bucky. I didn’t mean it like that ... I just thought you wouldn’t want to have kids. 

    - I don’t know. - he scratched the back of his neck. - I mean, I don’t really have much family left and I’d like to think, maybe someday, we could have our own.

    - Bucky ...

    - I’m freaking you out.

    - No. I’ve thought about it too, buying a house, having a baby, but ... everything I do is controlled and scheduled and tight lipped so I tend not to day dream about it. 

    - Hey ... - he hooked his arm under her waist, pulling her close to him. - You still have agency and besides, I’m really good at going undercover if you need to. 

    - You always know what to say. 

    - That’s because you’re predictable, princess.

    - I am not. - she retorted, pouting as she crossed her arms. 

    - Yes, you are, princess.

    - Really? - she cocked an eyebrow at him, before standing on her tip toes to whisper against his hear. - I’m not wearing any underwear. 

    - What? - he blushed as Y/N smiled before stepping forward to collect the takeaway bags from the customer assistant. Bucky cleared his throat as the two of them walked outside. - I thought you had something to show me.

    - I did but then I realised it is really uncomfortable to be in that lingerie, so I took it off.

Bucky felt most of his blood travelled south as he looked up and down her body. Damn it, suddenly her home felt so far away from the restaurant. He couldn’t help but stare at her body as  they  walked down the street, the way her dress draped over what he now knew was her naked body. Part of him felt jealous that she was in such a state in front of everyone else but the other part, the most overwhelming one, wanted to push her into an alley and take her right there and then and maybe he would’ve done so if he hadn’t seen a few paparazzi trying to appear invisible. He put himself on her left, mostly covering her, wrapping his hand around hers as he picked up the pace to get to her place. Once again he stood behind her as she opened her door, so close her could smell her daisy perfume and if he were a bit younger and lacked self control, he would’ve drowned her neck in hickeys. However, he thought seeing himself display some strong PDA with his girlfriend on the next morning’s paper. She took her jacket off, hanging it on the hooks by the door.

   - We’re going. - he whispered against her ear as she placed the takeaway bags on the kitchen. She opened her mouth to protest, wanting to defend her right to have the yummy food she had just bought but Bucky gave her no chance to do so, instead holstering her upon his shoulder and climbing up the stairs.

Y/N waved at her younger brother who stopped in his tracks as Bucky passed through him and straight into her bedroom. Before she could protest once more, he laid her on her own bedroom, climbing on top of her and started to kiss her neck which replaced the half done protests with small moans. His hand slide up her left to her tight, rising the dress in the process and sure enough, she had not been lying about not wearing any underwear. Other than the garter which held up the sheer white stockings, she was a bare as the day she was born. Bucky took a moment to appreciate it, the bare woman laid on the bed under him, looking at him as if he were the only man in the world.

   - I must say, princess. Whatever you had to show me can’t be better than this.

   - Maybe my food downstairs is better. 

   - You’re not walking down any stairs anytime soon, after I’m done with you. - he leaned down to kiss her, a harsh full of need kiss as if he hadn’t seen her in decades.

She smiled through the kiss, hands held over his neck as he placed kisses and sucked her skin in places she was sure to get a hickey the next day, but it didn’t matter. In all honesty, nothing really mattered when he kissed her. Y/N held her hands up as he took off the dress and basked in her nakedness. Screw all the women he had ever slept with, no one compared to her. It didn’t have to do with beauty or even seduction. She was just her, just herself in her own naked glory standing under him, eyes shining with a naive like lust as she awaited his next movement. Bucky should’ve done something else but he decided just to kiss her, fingers caressing the soft skin of her face.

    - What is it? - she asked as he interrupted the kiss once more.

    - You are the most wonderful thing in my life, Y/N. - he kissed her once more, one hand coming to remove his own trousers. 

Her lips stretched into a small smile as she rose her forehead to press it against his. She mumbled a small I love you, kissing the side of his lips as he pushed his cock into her. Her lips stretched into a gasp as he grunted once he shed himself completely inside her, eyes closed as he let the feeling of being inside of her take complete hold of him. She continued mid gasp, not a single thought forming inside her mind rather than how good he felt, how full she was. 

Bucky opened his eyes, baby blues almost navy coloured as his hand pushed some of her hair away from her face, kissing her to silence her little gaps and moans which came out in such meek tones, it made him even hard just from listening to them. The kiss was forceful, his lips  swallowing all her sounds as he slowly circled his hips against hers, one hand holding the side of her hips with a vice like grip. He pushed his hips back, removing himself from her only to thrust back into her, establishing a slow and delayed pace, grip strong enough to leave a bruise the next day. She whined, nails dug into the fabric of the sleeveless tank top he had not taken off. 

   - Bucky, please ... - she pleaded, tears pooling in her eyes. - Faster.

   - No, princess. You’ve been so bad lately ... what should I do with you? - he stopped moving, stilling inside of her.

   - Move? Please?

   - Giving me handjobs in a plane, pouting when you don’t get attention, walking around without underwear. That’s not good girl behaviour.  

   - Bucky ... - she tried to rock her hips against his but he stopped her, hand firmly pressing her against the mattress. - Bucky, please.

   - I don’t know, princess. - he leaned into the crook of her neck, playfully bitting her  sensitive skin, before kissing it and doing it again. - You look so pretty when you’re begging for my cock. I almost want to see it more. Maybe leave you like this all night, what about that?

   - Please, Bucky. Please. - a tears rolled down her cheek as she tried once again to rock her hips against his into a pointless effort. - Please, please, I need it.

   -  I know. You got so upset when I didn’t fuck you last night, dollface. - he moved out and into her in a long, slow motion, earning more moans from her. - You’re just becoming so needy for me, princess. 

   - Please. - she pouted, raising up to kiss him, her hands moving up to try and take off his shirt but he refused, shutting her actions by starting to relentlessly thrust in and out of her as if he had been possessed by mere lust. Y/N threw her head back as his hand grabbed her breast harshly and he continued to relentlessly fuck her.

Her  legs trembled as he went back to paying attention to her neck and jaw, the mix of all the emotions chasing her high. She whined, trying to deal with all she was feeling from his lips against her neck, his hand massaging her breast and flicking her nipple every once in a while as well as his cock veins against the walls of her channel.  She managed to open her eyes for a few seconds and swore she could cum merely at the sight of him as he moved away from her neck to thrust faster into her, head thrown back, pink reddish lips opened in a circle, sweat forming in hairline. She had done that, she had gotten him to look so lost in pleasure and that was as stimulating as something could get. 

His hand left her breast to start circling her clit, slowly and painful, a harsh contrast with the fast pace. Her own hand replaced the place that had once been occupied by his hand on her breast, biting her lip as he continued with his motions. Bucky did not stop until she reached her orgasm, the tight feeling in her lower stomach exploding into a particular high pitch moan which he silenced by kissing her, reminding her her parents were still downstairs after all. He didn’t take long to reach his own orgasm either, continuing to thrust quickly into her until ropes and ropes of cum painted her walls. The orgasm weakened his hold over her for a few seconds, leading to him collapsing to her side, pushing her along with him. Bucky slipped out of her, reaching up to kiss her lips followed by a small kiss to her nose. 

   - Hi. - she said shyly,  cuddling against his chest as he pushed a cover over her body. - No more secrets, promise me.  

   - I can’t promise that. I can promise that whatever I do, I do it because I love you and I want you safe. 

   - Buck.

   - I will try. - he kissed her forehead. - Good?

   - Good.

She remained in his arms, cuddling against his chest, listening to the sound of his heart beat softly against his ribcage. It felt good, it felt good to feel loved, to hear the heartbeat of someone who loved her, someone who existed, someone who she had only dreamed about and now existed in real life and loved her. The two watched the old clock on her table turn to midnight. Christmas day. She looked up to him, extending to give him a quick kiss.

   - Merry Christmas, love.

   - Merry Christmas, princess. - he kissed her nose. 

   - I thought we could trade presents between us. Make it special. 

   - Me first. - he said and before she could ever argue, he was rolling out of bed with a small blanket covering his nudity to grab a present wrapped in festive wrapping paper with her name written on it. He sat on the bed, next to her, pushing the duvet to cover her so she wouldn’t be cold. - I hope you like it.

   - I’m sure I will. - Y/N smiled at him before proceeding to unwrap her present. It was a book and one she recognised very well from seeing pictures on Google whenever she looked around jokingly for first editions on Ebay. - Buck, it’s too much. I can’t.

   - It’s mine. Well, it used to be mine but now it’s yours. 

   - How do you even know I like the Hobbit?

   - Chuck told me.

   - You and Chuck talk? - she giggled, unable to picture her best friend having a conversation with Bucky who was always brooding.

   - We don’t but whenever we’re on set, he just keeps talking. He said you liked it, so I thought it would be fun if you had the one I read when I was what? About your age?

   - Oh okay, grampa. - she poked his chest jokingly before handing him his present.

Bucky kissed the side of her temple, opening the package to see an album like photo with his name written in gold. He gave her a confused look but she merely nodded her head, telling him to open the book. Once he did, he saw “All the times Bucky Barnes was a hero” written in her handwriting followed by pages and pages of articles calling him a hero, the saviour of the day and other words he did not equalise with himself. 

   - I know you don’t believe you’re a good man but I do and it’s not just me who thinks it. There has been darkness in your  life but the way you continued onwards, doing good to the world which hurt you ... that’s noble. - he heard her voice almost in a echo like fashion as he moved page after page. It did not only ranged from his time in the Howling Commandos but even til now, with recent missions and facts. Everything was there, different journal cut outs, different testimonies. Everything. 

Bucky looked to his side, looked at her who was smiling at the book in his hand which she had put together and he knew. He just knew.

   - Y/N?

   - Hm?

   - Marry me. 

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @bbabysbaby @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverratedbutgreat @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche​ @vicmc624 @newyorkgoddess @itsallyscorner @chipilerendi @emzd34 @writerwrites​ @bluevxnus​ @that-girl-named-alex​ @captnrogers​ @nsfwsebbie​ @sarge-barnes-sir​

[13uswntimagines]

Works Like a Charm (USWNT x Baby!Reader)

Request: reader with the team where r falls asleep any and everywhere and on everyone? just super cute friendship and stuff

Authors’s note: Special thanks to @literaryhedgehog​ cause without her this would not have happened! I hope you enjoy and totally feel free to hit me up with comments and questions or if you just wanna say Hi!

You were the baby of the team, and being the baby came with very special privileges. The team knew of your sleeping issues, and the various methods you and your therapist had implemented (including scheduling yourself to avoid all blue light sources for hours before bed and sleeping with a stuffed animal (the famed stuffed Triceratops, Roary) each night,) to help fall asleep and stay asleep at night. But it had only been a week since you had actually looked for help, so it was too early to expect results, as you told them (and yourself) repeatedly. 

More often than not you found yourself sitting on a couch, Roary cuddled close to your chest, watching the rerun of whatever game had been on, desperately waiting for your brain to turn off so you could sleep. That was the exact scene Ashlyn had stumbled upon. She glanced at the clock, wincing at the bold 2:15 that blinked back at her as she rubbed her eyes. 

“What are you doing awake kid? Thought you weren’t supposed to do blue light after 9?” She asked softly, plopping down beside you, throwing an arm over your shoulder. You shrugged, leaning further into her side. You closed your eyes, burying your head into her warm arm.

“I literally laid awake for three hours. I tried not to focus on anything, or to focus on breathing, but I kept replaying the game in my head. So I thought I would watch it, see if rewatching the ending would help my thoughts, Idk, end too?” You moved so that your head was on her lap and you looked up at her. “Did anything I just said make sense out of my head?”

She nodded sadly down at you, her hands, stroking your hair slowly. You closed your eyes again, enjoying the feeling. You always wanted to be a cat when you were little. Your thoughts became slightly fuzzier, interrupted slightly when Ashlyn spoke. 

“Don’t fall asleep here kid. Ali will kill us both if we sleep on the couch,” The blond keeper 

“Just a few more minutes please?” You asked softly, cracking your eyes open. 

“Alright. Just a few,” she nodded. 

Coincidentally that’s exactly where Ali would find you the next morning. Cuddled into Ashlyn's stomach, snoring softly. From that moment, it became a team rule. It didn’t matter where you slept, as long as you were sleeping. 

*****

You were never going to live this down. Emily took a stealthy photo of you slumped against Alex’s arm, the climax of Black Panther’s fight taking place in the background. Kelley guarded your other side like a pitbull, just daring anyone to try and mess with you. 

“How did you get her to fall asleep Alex? She was so hyped up when we got here!” Emily said way too loudly, shrinking slightly when the veterans shushed her. 

“I literally just wrapped my arms around her while Kelley braided with her hair,” Alex whispered, glancing down to see that you weren’t moving before she continued, “she kept moving too much for Kelley to get the braid straight, so I just held her still like I do with my niece for family pictures. Once she stopped struggling, it was instant.” 

“Works like a charm every time. Who knew the world’s most feared striker could be turned into a puppy with some cuddles and pets?”  Megan laughed softly. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s hilarious. Now shush and watch the movie,” Kelley said, flicking Megan playfully. More softly she added, “you’ll wake her.”

That shut the group up quickly. No one wanted to get in trouble for interrupting the little amount of sleep you got. 

****

You were sitting next to Alyssa on the bench during practice, bouncing your leg you waited for your turn to run. It had been a stressful week. Everyone was preparing for the first real game of the season and even the usual pre-practice locker room chat had been tenser than usual. 

Stress usually meant one thing for you. No sleep. It was like your brain had a death wish and just wanted to make itself more miserable. The dark circles didn’t go unnoticed by your teammates, hence why you had been regulated to the bench with the keeper when you weren’t running drills. 

Alyssa started humming absentmindedly. You looked over at her. She was biting the edge of her lip, watching Becky run drills. She stopped and looked over, seemingly realizing that she was making noise. 

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly.

“No, it’s really pretty! Please don’t stop on my account,” You said smiling and looking back towards the team as Alyssa started singing under her breath. “MmmhummmM, mmmhummM, So this is love. So this is what makes life Divine.” 

You swayed to the tune, closing your eyes, once. You opened them again, more slowly. Then you felt yourself blink twice more, more slowly this time. It took slightly more effort to open them again. You stared hard at the field, not noticing Alyssa scootch closer to you on the bench. Then you blinked again. 

 “Alright Naeher, you’re up,” AD called jogging over to the bench from where the rest of the keepers were practicing. She stopped short at the glare Alyssa sent her way. 

“Don’t think I’m going to be practicing PK’s today,” She said softly, gesturing to you with her free arm. The other arm was wrapped around you, keeping you from falling off the bench like you had almost done when you fell asleep. AD smiled, but then ran back to the group, unwilling to disturb you either. 

Maybe the pitch wasn’t the best place to fall asleep, but with the soft looks the team was sending you, they all knew it wouldn’t be the last time. Your health was important and they would help however they could. 

*****

It was like a rule on the bus. One didn’t fall asleep unless they wanted to get mustaches drawn on their face, or their cleats stolen. The bus ride to the practice field was long and supposed to be a time for team bonding, though it almost always ended up with Alex and Kelley sharing earbuds to listen to Hosier or Haley Kiyoko, Krashlyn watching some weird reality show, Megan Christen and Tobin discussing Re-ink stuff and the youngins causing havoc on the back, while Becky and Alyssa did their crosswords and Carli watched the road, trying not to get car sick. 

You and Sam had seats across the aisle from each other but would sit next to each other on trips like these, playing hangman or Super Mario bros on switch. Today was one of those days where you slid across the aisle, pen in hand, looking for entertainment to keep the boredom away. 

“That’s not fair. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious is not an acceptable word to describe winning the World Cup,” Sam snorted, shaking her head as you finished the hangman. 

“You’re one to talk. Last time you gave me “jazzy” as a word to describe how it would feel to meet Mia Hamm. You realize that J and Z are like, some of the least commonly used letters in the alphabet?” You exclaimed, your hands waving wildly as you tried to prove your point. 

“It was a response to the fact that you picked a word that doesn’t exist,” Sam rolled her eyes. 

“Wacknut is totally a word,” you huffed crossing your arms. 

“You know what ducky, I think,”  Sam paused, covering her mouth as a giant yawn split her face, “You’re a wacknut.” She finished, exhaling and wiping a tear from one of her eyes. 

“Stop that, I didn’t sleep last night,” you said, yawning unintentionally yourself.

“Told you not to watch that last episode of Game of Thrones,” Sam said, stretching her arms slightly in front of her. 

“You were right, it was a terrible ending, and a disgrace to television, but I had to know” You mumbled, your voice growing soft, and trailing off towards the end.  

“I know, we were all let down by that one,” Sam said, leaning her head on top of yours, comfortingly. “I should take my own advice more often, 6 hours of sleep is just not enough.”

“Hmm, I know why they call you the tower of power, you’re soooo warm,” You nuzzled into her shoulder, her heartbeat soothing you. 

“Did anyone ever tell you the story of how I got that name?” Sam asked, stifling another yawn.

“No,” you echoed her yawn. 

“Good, they never tell it right. Once upon a time, there was a badass named me. The end.”

“Hmm,”

****

“So I know that we’re never supposed to wake Y/N up unless there’s an emergency, but we have practice and there aren’t any rules pertaining to Sammy,” Emily said too loudly, staring at where you were cuddled into Sam’s chest. The bus had stopped a few minutes ago and had slowly unloaded. 

“Yeah, they’re kind of impossible to separate without waking both of them up,” Lindsey nodded, showing Alex a picture she had gotten from above you. Not only was Sam’s head on you, the two of you were holding hands in your sleep, and your other hand was tangled on the end of her shirt like your dreaming mind had mistaken it for a blanket and tried to pull it up. 

“I have no problem carrying ducky, but I’m not tall enough to get Sam too,” Kelley said, scratching her head. 

Behind them, Dawn walked back onto the bus. “What’s the holdup people? We have a practice to get to! I’m not defending you to Vlatko if you’re late again Sonnett.”

You jumped at the noise, jostling Sam awake too. You blinked at the woman, eyes wide and suddenly alert, searching for danger. “What happened!” 

“Whoa, slow down killer. You fell asleep on Sam and she fell asleep on you,” Emily smirked as your cheeks turned blood red. 

“We just arrived to practice. You’re not late yet,” Lindsey said, punching Sam lightly in the shoulder and turning to grab her bag. “You’re lucky Sam that you had a sleeping meep meep to protect you, otherwise you totally would have been pranked for napping on the bus. 

“There’s no way in hell that meep meep fell asleep before our favorite tower of power.” Emily bantered back, shoving Lindsey off of the bus. 

“We better go,” You said softly, playing with the hand that was still intertwined with Sams. 

“Yeah, probably. Remind me to sleep with you again sometime. That was the best nap I had in ages,” Sam said absentmindedly stretching her neck to each side. Your eyes went wide. Then she froze, realizing what she had said. “Wait. That came out wrong.”

“It’s fine Sammie, I know what you meant, and I’d love that,” you bumped her shoulder with yours, then grabbed your bag. “Race you to the pitch!” 

Sam shook her head as if to clear it as you launched yourself off the bus. Then she grabbed her bag and followed you, sprinting to try and catch up. 

 Yep, the team would do everything they could to make sure their little meep meep got the best sleep she could. 

[myloveforhenrycavill]

Devastated | Clark Kent x Reader

Pairing: Clark Kent x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: cancer, angst

A/N: Hey guys! Really hope you enjoy this fic. It’s super angsty. I revisited an old fic that I wrote many, many years ago for a different fandom, but it felt right to rewrite it with stuff that’s going on in my life right now with my dad. Please let me know what you guys think, but please be gentle (me fragile). This is my first fic about one of Henry ‘s characters, but I look forward to getting back into writing. Xxx much love -Stina

My Fic Recs

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Clark stared at the ceiling of his room listening to the clock hanging above his door. To anyone else, this would have been dull background noise, but to Clark it sounded like thunder roaring. It had been a painfully long day working at the Daily Planet and he was beyond glad it was over. Perry had been breathing down his neck all day about a story and his approaching deadline. Relief washed over Clark when he walked through the doors of his apartment building, but something was still missing. All he wanted to do was go see you.

Oh, how much he wanted to see you. You always brightened his day no matter what he had on his mind. The two of you had a complicated relationship. You were technically just friends. However, you tend to do things that only couples do. You've kissed once or twice after a night out and constantly cuddled each other whenever the chance arises, but it never progressed further than that. Neither of you brought up the subject, afraid of the others reaction and afraid to ruin whatever it was you had. Clark wanted to, god he wanted to, but you’ve never been in a real relationship and he hasn’t wanted to scare you away. He cares about you way too much to let that happen. Clark wants to protect you from ever being hurt no matter the cost.

It had been hours since Clark got home. He’s tried texting you around 10 times and has called you five times. This wasn't like you. You practically lived on your phone. You both always update each other throughout the day. Thank god for unlimited texting or else you would both be royally screwed. Clark was starting to get quite worried. What if something happened? Is she okay? were the only thoughts running through his head. He knew you were off from work today and you would have texted him if your job called you to come in. Maybe she's just asleep. She rarely has her volume up ever. Yeah, that has to be it. Clark was tempted to fly over to your apartment to check on you, but decided to text your sister before doing anything rash.

C: "hey, y/s/n. Is everything alright? I've been trying to reach Y/n for the last couple of hours and she isn't responding to me."

Y/s/n: "Clark, can you please go over to her apartment? She's an absolute wreck. I've heard her like this. I'm really worried."

C: "I’m on my way… what happened?"

Y/s/n: "our dad got his results back..."

The text was longer, but that was all Clark had to read before he flew over to your building. He didn’t care if anyone saw him. The whole world could have been burning and he wouldn’t have stopped. Your dad had cancer when you were younger, but he was doing well and had been in remission for quite some time. Recently, he had started to feel the same symptoms as the first time and went to get some tests done. Y/s/n's text only meant one thing. The cancer was back.

If this was true, then it made perfect sense why you wouldn't contact him. You would be devastated. Your dad was the most important person in your life. You loved him unconditionally and looked up to him like he could do no wrong.

Clark reached you within seconds. He knocked on the door and waited. He could hear nothing but silence which surprised him. When you did not come to the door, Clark retrieved the spare key from the top of your door frame. When he didn’t see you on the couch, he made his way to your bedroom and slowly opened the door, careful not to startle you. You laid there on the purple comforter sleeping. You looked utterly exhausted from crying. Your puffy eyes were singed pink. Your cheeks looked wet and sticky from what surely was hours of countless tears flowing. It truly pained Clark to see you in such a state.

Clark climbed into the other side of the bed just like he'd done numerous times before, but this time was different. You looked so broken. He carefully reached over and wiped a few stray tears off your cheeks and placed a gentle kiss underneath each of your eyes. They slowly fluttered open and acknowledged Clark’s presence. You sniffled a few times, but didn't cry.

"What are you doing here, Clark?" you whispered as if just that was taking all your energy.

"Your sister texted me...what happened, y/n? You know you can tell me anything," Clark inquired knowing that she needed to let it all out.

"You don't have to do this, Clark. Go somewhere and have fun. Don't waste your time on me. I know you'd rather be out with your other friends right now. You probably had a rough day and don’t need me to unload my baggage," you spoke immediately biting your lip and blinking your eyes in order to fight back the tears that were already pooling.

"Listen, love. You know that there is nowhere else I would rather be. I'm here for you and I always will be. No matter what happens, I'll be right here by your side. I care about you, Y/n. I care more than you could ever know, just tell me what happened." Clark cupped your cheek as he gently wiped the traitorous tears away with the pad of his thumb.

You broke and told Clark everything that had happened since he spoke to you last. You were a trembling mess laid on the bed next to him. Clark tightly wrapped both his arms around you, never wanting to let go whispering comforting words into your ear trying to make it even a little bit better.

You grabbed his white t-shirt with two fists and sobbed into it which would surely be ruined with your leftover mascara running from your eyes. It didn't matter to Clark though, not even a little. It was worth it. You were worth it.

Once you calmed down hours later, Clark pulled back slowly still holding you securely and stared at you. You looked up at him through your lashes and had the faintest smile across your face.

"Thank you, Clark, genuinely. For everything. You didn't have to lay here with me this entire time. I'm not worth it..."

Clark stopped you instantly. "Don't ever say that, my love. You deserve the moon, the stars, and the sun. Anyone who tells you otherwise is lying. I would go to the end of the earth for you and it still would never be enough. I care about you, Y/n. More than I can even put into words. The past few months that this has been going on have been the best of my life. You make me feel whole. Like something has been missing all this time and I'm starting to realize what it was. "

The dim smile that you once wore turned into a full-blown smirk. "I don't see what you're getting at Mr. Kent."

That's it. There's my girl. MY girl. God, I love the way that sounds. That sarcastic idiot is my world and I intended to spend the rest of my life proving that to her.

"Shut up," Clark muttered as he slowly leaned in, meeting you in the middle. Your lips collided and the feeling of his lips connected with your soft ones felt like nothing he could ever describe. He would never get sick of this feeling. The way you made him feel was like he was floating high through the sky (which he had plenty of experience with, but this was a million time better). The best high that no drug could every give him. If you were a drug, Clark was happily addicted to your sweet intoxication.

You both pulled back and Clark rested his forehead on yours cupping your face with both of his hands. "Let's get some sleep, love. We can discuss more of this tomorrow if we need to."

You sluggishly nodded with your head still spinning and placed your head on his broad chest curling into the position you had assumed many times before. Clark loved nothing more than cuddling with you. It felt like home. She is my home.

You placed one hand across his chest as he dropped both of his arms comfortably around your waist not letting you go anywhere. Tonight, she is all mine and I can live with that.

One day you would take the next step closer to each other, but not tonight. You were still vulnerable from the news of your dad’s health. Clark wanted your decision to be with him to be a clear one, not just because he was the only one there for you. Tonight, Clark was simply a shoulder to cry on and he was perfectly content with that. Someday, Y/n. Someday, I will have the guts to tell you how I really feel. How I'm quickly feeling that four-letter word that every guy is so afraid of. But the thing is, I'm not so afraid anymore.

[vtforpedro]

long, long health update - tw in tags please read them

I am going to speak very frankly about suicidal ideation; please don't read further if this is triggering for you ;3; but please know that I love you I had my follow-up appt with my neuropsych on monday to go over my results and whatnot. it was virtual, and I was in the middle of a head episode and I told her I wasn't doing well, but within about 5-10 minutes, she was saying I should probably go to the ER lkajflaj I guess it looked pretty bad lmao anyway I told her all the reasons I couldn't. medical trauma, being dismissed b/c I have doctors who manage my headaches, and I know it's not life-threatening even if it is 10/10 agonizing, so why are you here. they're so dismissive. she said that they have medication to possibly help break the cycle of constant migraines but I've been treated with those before and they didn't do shit migraines are secondary to iih. it's the iih that needs to be fixed ._. she said I still deserved to not suffer and that the ER is very strict about keeping covid patients away from other patients and I didn't have the heart to tell her they intubated a covid patient 10-15 feet away from me last time I was in an ER 😭 anyway so the results. she said she wasn't worried about anything going on that was concerning or indicating something wrong in my brain. I DID score quite a bit lower for someone my age on information processing (which is exactly what I said I was struggling with to my two neuros who were both like ehhh) and some issues with memory but they weren't super specific and so it could be something neurological, could be my migraines and constant agony lmao, could be my Emotional State. could be all of them at once, I suppose ;) she went into more detail about some of these things but it was the two questionnaires I filled out that were HNNN. so once all the data is entered from like 300 questions it shows a good look into my personality and perceptions and all that and it makes a cool little graph (OR SO I THOUGHT). the kind that looks like mountain peaks. so she points at the one that is waaay higher than the rest and nearly touching the top of the box and she's like 'do you see this one' me: yeah �� her: this is your feelings and ideations about suicide me: 😬 😩 😬 her: when I see a score this high, I stop what I'm doing and I call the police to have them escort you to a hospital me: 😬😬😬😬😬 her: but I didn't do that. because when we spoke in office you told me you felt this way and why you don't do it. you told me it's something you've lived with for a long time and the pain you are suffering is what makes it so bad. and I trust you me: 😭😭😭 okay her: do you see this line down here? this is people who have suicidal ideation recorded on this test. you scored 98% higher on suicidal ideation compared to people reporting suicidal ideation HNNNNNN. she said it probably wasn't surprising to me and asked me if I was safe again and all that. I assured her I was and said in my previous appointment; I've had suicidal thoughts since I was like 12? maybe earlier. there have been very few times in my life not surrounded by abuse and trauma so I'm never really free of it. I've had four traumatic incidents causing increasingly horrible episodes of ptsd in nine years. all through my 20s. still here woo, lol and she said she knew that and had a patient not long after my first appointment who had similar circumstances in their life. and they told her it's almost a comfort having it. cause I was saying it's in the back of my mind at all times and I won't do it, but yeah, it's always there. anyway she said they said the same thing; it's always there, always in the background as 'hey I'm an option!' even though we aren't going to harm ourselves. it's a comfort knowing there is an option even if we plan on never using it? idk it just spoke to me and I felt it in my soul we talked about some emotional stuff after and I cried and it was a thing. it felt really good to speak to a psychologist who, just as she was in the first appointment, seemed genuinely concerned and wanted to help

me. I told her I was ready for therapy and she said she'd already looked for therapists for me lkasjdlkja and gave me a group that I emailed yesterday. I don't think they'll take my insurance but she said to message her through the portal if they don't and she'll try to find someone who does I don't remember if I mentioned it, but since she knew about the head shit before I met her, she dimmed her office lights without asking if I needed it and like as soon as we started the virtual visit, she leaped up and dimmed them and said she should've thought about it before the appt 😭 (I keep my brightness really low on my computer and use the warming feature 24/7 on comp and phone and my apt is really dimmed but it still helped a lot when she did it) she kept saying 'you did nothing wrong. it was the choice of others to do what they did. you don't deserve to carry their choices. you deserve to be able to hand it back to them. you don't deserve to be in pain. you did nothing wrong. you deserve to be free of what they did and you deserve to not suffer in such physical pain' I'm so wary of doctors but I really like her and I feel fortunate to have been referred to her ;3; speaking for a long time and especially emotionally is hard for me, so I might try to do two sessions a month once I find a therapist and see if I'm ok with that. trying to keep everything virtual while delta is out there I read her report and her official diagnosis is uhh really strong for major depressive disorder, severe. and severe ptsd with disassociative symptoms so!!! I claimed both of those on my disability application and the person handling my claim told me when I had this appt to call and let her know because she wanted the info. I signed a release the day I was there when I told my neuropsych that cause MH stuff is different than other medical records. she said she faxed it to the woman handling my disability application but I was gonna call her and ask if she received it and also tell her I have a new neuro so she will probably request his stuff too I called today and her voicemail box is full so lol try again later today's been awful. last night was horrible. got a bill for over $800 from my colonoscopy/endoscopy even though I asked numerous times if insurance was covering it and was told yep, every penny. so I was on the phone with insurance and the surgery center for 45 minutes. insurance seemed confused af but the agent I spoke with got some help from people who handle this stuff I guess finally she told me not to pay it, they're going to send them a letter to get it sorted (idk if this means I won't have to pay it at all or if they're going to try to make it that way. but I think govt insurance, which is what I have, works differently. like doctors kinda have to follow what they say vs. the other way around) and not worry about it for the next 30 days. I'm still gonna worry about it lmao they used a nice scare tactic on the bill that this was the 'LAST AND FINAL NOTICE' despite the fact they've never sent me anything else. my mom and the insurance agent said nah that's just what they do to scare people into paying fuckin love america <3 land of the free. the american dream! greatest country on earth 💜🖕💜 I just don't want it to go to collections and have to fight credit bureaus to get it off my credit so it's not destroyed |: anyway my head hit like 10/10 bad while I was on the phone cause of the talking a lot and trying to PROCESS INFORMATION and stress and also the fucking hold music, which I have to hear in some way b/c I gotta know when they're back on the line hnnnnn bad day. it's 1pm and bad, bad, bad day. bad month all around. I want this shit to stop anyway. I'm sorry about the suicidal ideation talk, but it's important to talk about that stuff. it can get severe but it can also get better. it does, eventually, even if it comes and goes. it always does get better I'm sorry, I also really needed to get this down somewhere. feel like I'm going to explode emotionally AND physically and I need to talk about it. hopefully

soon I'll have a therapist to talk to so I can get a lot of this stuff worked on. got my whole life to chat about so it'll probably take a long time but I'm willing to let it lmao therapy doesn't usually work for me anymore but idk I've had a lot of shit happen in less than two years so maybe it will this time I'm trying! I really am trying if you read this rambling monster, thank you. love you all and please stay safe

[annabethy]

under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow day 10: pen pal

Character A and Character B both sign up for a Christmas Pen Pal project to exchange post cards,, percabeth. not just letters I promise

01/04/2008

Hi! My name’s A, and I’m eight years old. Well, my name isn’t actually A, but I don’t know you yet so I can’t tell you my real name. I don’t know your name, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.

I don’t know why I’m doing this whole pen pal thing. I just thought it would be fun, but I don’t really know what to expect either. I guess I should tell you a little bit about myself.

My favorite color is grey, like my eyes. I like to read a lot too. I don’t have many friends, but that’s just because I don’t like talking to people. They start to talk, and it makes me feel like I want to hit them, so I prefer to just be by myself. I wouldn’t mind being your friend, though. I don’t have to hear you talk.

Hope I get your response soon! Goodbye until then!

Love, A.

,,

01/27/2008

Dear A,

I guess you can call me P then. I’m eight years old too, so that’s cool! We’re practically best friends already. I’m doing the pen pal thing because my teacher says I should practice writing. I’m not very good at writing, but I promiss prommis promise I’ll get better for you!

I like to swim. The water is cold where I live, but I still go in anyways. My mom says I’ll get hypothermia, but I do it anyways because it’s fun. I wonder if you like the water too? You’re crazy if you don’t, but it’s okay. I’ll be your friend anyways. I have one friend, but I don’t really like them very much. They’re mean to me a lot. You seem much nicer.

I’m so excited to get to talk to you!

From P :)

,,

05/07/2012

Hey, P! It’s been a couple of months since we spoke. I’ve missed my mystery-stranger-pen-pal-person. Hope you’re doing well.

Honestly, not much has happened with me. It’s the end of sixth grade, thank god. I actually hate all of my teachers. Especially the history one. She makes something that could be so interesting so dull, and it’s upsetting. There’s so much to tell about the past, and she’s ruining it. I’d consider saying something to her, but you know how it is.

I’ll just complain to you instead ;)

I remember you said you were applying to the swim team, and I think that’s so exciting! I know the try-outs passed, so let me know if you got in! (and if you didn’t, don’t worry about it. You don’t need to explain it to me if you don’t want to.)

Anyways, eagerly awaiting your response (but not that eagerly. It’ll be a couple of weeks, if not more.)

Love, A.

,,

05/20/2012

A! I’m insulted that you would think I didn’t make it onto the swim team. I am one with the fish. I am living my dream of swimming around the water like a turtle. It’s been pretty fun actually, except for when I ran into a wall and nearly bust my head open months ago. We don’t like to speak of that moment.

And yes, your history teacher is absolutely bizzare bizarre. I’m not the best with grades and spelling (clearly. I mean, look at my spelling of “bizarre”) but history is one of my better subjects, surprisingly. I think that it’s because the past is so important. My mom always likes to tell me that without the past, we wouldn’t learn for the future, so I try to pay attention to that class. I’m sorry you don’t like it :(

I really missed talking to you too. I don’t even know your name (cue frown), but I feel like I’ve known you my entire life. A person I can talk to when there’s no one else.

You’re my best friend (though I do love the term “mystery-stranger-pen-pal person).

Sincerely, P.

,,

10/7/2016

P! Get ready for my rant because I’m about to go off, and you’re going to listen.

People always say that you lose friends sophomore year. I didn’t think that was true. BOY, was I wrong. I’ve lost, like, twenty friends. I thought I’d be more upset about it, but honestly, I’m relieved. They always made me feel excluded, and without them, I’m not going home near tears every day.

I did meet a guy. His name is Luke, and he’s a junior. We’re not dating, but I wouldn’t mind it if we did. Not that I think it’ll ever happen because I’m too focused on school, but it would be nice to at least be friends. He’s really nice.

Also! The last letter was two months ago (?) and you said your school placed second in the state competition! Does that mean you’re going to nationals?

If you are, I am so proud of you. You seriously have to let me know how that goes.

Until next time.

Love, A.

,,

10/27/2016

A, my love!

As your best friend, I am obligated to say that you must not let the man be an obstacle to your schoolwork. I say this because I want you to do well. (Also because I’m in love with you)

Really though, I’m happy for you. I hope everything works out and you’re happy. That’s all that matters.

As for the sophomore thing, I felt that. I’ve never had all that many friends, but a lot of them changed. Change isn’t a bad thing I guess, but I wasn’t willing to stick around for them destroying themselves, so I didn’t. I’m always here if you need me.

(And I did place at states! Nationals was actually a few weeks ago! I didn’t place there, but I apparently got pretty close, which is awesome)

Love, P.

,,

04/03/2017

A! It’s been a while. I haven’t heard from you since October, and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Is that weird? I don’t know you but I’m checking in?

Oh well. I just really missed you. Not much has happened. Just wanted to say hi. Hope all is well.

Love, P.

,,

12/25/2017

A! Babes! Where are you? I’ve sent a few letters but haven’t gotten any responses. You’re kind of scaring me haha. Is it something I said?

I totally get if you don’t want to do this anymore, but just let me know please? I’m checking the mail every day and I keep getting more and more worried, so… Just let me know, please.

I miss you.

Love, P.

,,

06/01/2018

Dear A,

You never responded to any of my last letter. I get the feeling you’re not going to respond anymore, so I guess this is my last letter.

I graduated. Finally. It was a struggle, but I managed to bring my grades up. I even got accepted to a pretty good school. It’s not Ivy League, like I’m sure you got into. You’ve always been so smart.

I’m going to school in New York. I don’t think I’ve ever told you that in any of the 126 letters we’ve sent. I counted.

Anyways, I just really miss you. I hope you’re okay, and I really wish you the best.

My name’s Percy by the way.

Love, Percy.

,,

12/24/2023

Percy jumps as his girlfriend wraps her arms around his shoulder and nips at his ear. He turns and gives her a playful look.

“You want to take me to the ground?” he asks.

Annabeth rolls her eyes, sliding her hand into his. She feels really warm, even in the cold air outside of Rockefeller Center. “I’m not that heavy.”

“What if I told you you’re wrong?”

“You would get no more kisses for today.”

“Oh, we can’t have that.” Percy’s arms slide to wrap around her waist and tug her closer to his. She doesn’t resist, hugging him back. Percy nudges her jaw with his nose until she turns her face up so he can kiss her. “You’re not heavy at all. Super light, actually.”

She hums, kissing him again. “Good answer.”

Percy laughs, letting him detangle himself from her. His hand goes back to hers, and they begin walking around the plaza, taking in the beautiful decorations. It’s really pretty outside. He’s always had a thing for Christmas and its sparkling lights. He loves the smell of the pine trees and the feel of the light snowflakes against his face.

Annabeth swings her hands between them, and he thinks she looks so cute with her hair down in the cold and nose turned red that he can’t help but kiss her on the cheek.

Percy catches sight of a large sign at a random booth sitting along the edge of one of the buildings. It’s decorated horribly in the most adorable way — no doubt done by children. It’s what it reads that really makes him doubletake.

He just barely manages to make out the words, Christmas Pen Pal Exchange.

It makes his heart ache. He hasn’t heard from A since sophomore year of high school when he was sixteen. He’s twenty-three now. He can’t believe it’s this close to ten years since he heard from her.

He misses her so much. It’s not that he necessarily needed her because he has Annabeth, and he wouldn’t trade that for the world. He’s in love with Annabeth. He thinks he’s going to marry her someday.

A helped him get through difficult times. He wishes he could at least know that she was okay, or why she stopped talking to him. He doesn’t care why it happened anymore. He just wants to know, and to tell her things he was always too scared to say.

Annabeth bumps his shoulder as they pass the booth. “You okay?”

Percy swallows the small lump in his throat that formed. “I’m okay.”

“You sure? You look like you’re about to cry.”

A part of Percy doesn’t want to tell her. He wants to keep it to himself because he has for so long. What he and A had was different.

The other part, and the bigger part, does want to tell Annabeth. He loves her and wants her to know every piece of him. Annabeth is Percy’s best friend now, and there’s no reason for him to keep something like this for her.

“It’s just.” Percy pauses, looking over his shoulder at the booth. “I did one of those when I was young.”

He expects her to tease him, so he’s surprised when she says, “I did too.”

Percy looks at her. “You did?”

“Yeah. I was eight, I think.”

Percy breaks into a smile. “So you were that kid with no friends in elementary.”

“Okay, mister, you wrote them too.”

“That’s how I know you were a loser back then. I was too.”

“A match made in heaven,” she says, wrapping herself in his arms to block the wind that’s begun to blow harder. “Do you still talk to them?”

“Not anymore,” he admits. “We just stopped talking.”

“Aw. Why?”

Percy breathes deeply. “I’m honestly not sure. She just stopped talking to me.”

“What an ass,” Annabeth says.

“Right?” Percy laughs slightly. “I miss her, to be honest. Is that weird? I just used to talk to her all the time, and then — nothing.”

“It’s not weird at all,” she tells him, snuggling her face into the crook of his neck. “I miss mine too.”

“Why’d you stop talking?”

“I moved here. I lost their address, and I got a new one. It just didn’t work after that.” She smiles, thinking of a fond memory. “They used to call me their best friend. The only one I had.”

Percy turns his nose up. “Well now you have me, so forget that guy. No man dares hurt my baby.”

“If I ever meet them, promise to beat their ass.”

“I’ll do my best,” he promises.

“What was their name?” she asks. “Of your pen pal?”

“I never found out,” he says. “She didn’t tell me her name. Only that it started with an A, so I called myself P, and we just kind of went on like that.”

The atmosphere suddenly turns cold as Annabeth stiffens in his arms.

“What is it?” he asks.

“You called yourself P? And the other person was A?”

Percy thinks to confirm before saying, “Yes. Why?”

“Did this person also meet a guy named Luke?”

Percy pulls away slightly. “How did you know that?”

“And you told them about your love for history at one point?” Percy suddenly feels lightheaded. “Annabeth…”

Annabeth’s lower lip trembled, and when she speaks, it comes out cracked. “I’m A.”

It hits him like a train, and Percy suddenly can’t breathe. His mouth opens for air, but his lungs fail him. His mind races, he doesn’t know what to say, and he feels like he’s going to pass out, and… “Oh my god,” is all he manages.

“Percy.”

“You’re A.”

Tears are falling from her eyes, and he doesn’t know how to feel. He doesn’t feel anything at all at first. It’s a weight off his chest, and he’s finally able to take a wrangled breath as it settles inside him. He feels something dripping down his face and realizes it’s tears.

He feels like he should be mad, but he’s not. He can’t be mad at Annabeth because he loves her so much, and he knows what happened, and it’s not her fault, and it’s not his either, and he’s in love with her.

Percy tugs her close. He doesn’t kiss her because right now, this is him seeing A again. His face is in his neck, and he can hear her sobs, and he’s sure his are just as bad. He pulls away, and he lets himself kiss her this time.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers into the kiss. He can taste the tears falling, but he pays it no attention. “I missed you, and I love you so much.”

“I’m sorry,” is what she says.

“Don’t,” he says, pulling away sharply. His voice is wobbly. “This is not your fault.”

Annabeth whimpers. “It feels like it.”

“It doesn’t matter. We found each other, and that’s all that matters, okay?” He wipes the tears from her face gently and kisses her forehead. “We found each other.”

“A twisted way of fate.”

Percy lets out a wet laugh. “It is, but it’s okay.”

“I love you,” she whispers.

There’s so much he wants to say back, but he would never have enough time to say it. “I love you too, mystery-stranger-pen-pal-person,” he whispers. He stays like that, her wrapped in his arms, and he doesn’t know how much time passes like this.

He kisses her, but this time it is as more than her boyfriend.

They are P and A.

Percy and Annabeth.

They are best friends and lovers in one.

He’s going to marry her. His best friend.

Percy and Annabeth.

P and A.

[just-jordie-things]

Can’t Pretend - Richie Tozier

word count: 13,840 warnings: swearing, sexual themes summary: richie and (y/n) share a dirty little secret, and it’s starting to get in the way of her relationship.  but it shouldn’t if it was just a fling, right? based on this song (a/n): about to hit 5.4k so I thought I'd celebrate by posting this ol’ thing :) I really like it I hope y'all do too :3

___

[ love... i have wounds, only you can mend // i guess that’s love… i can’t pretend ]

It was a plain saturday for the Losers.  And by plain, I mean they were chilling in Bill’s bedroom, thankful that his parents were out of town for the weekend because that meant they could raid the liquor cabinet and be a bit louder than usual.

(y/n) was leaning against the mattress, sat on the floor, a beer bottle in hand and a smile on her face.  These were the best kinds of nights, where all they did was talk, and it was all they had to do.

Eddie smacks Richie on his shoulder, but nearly hits his face in his drunken stupor.  And when (y/n) laughs, her head leans a little more into Ben’s leg, which is hanging off the side of the bed where he sat.  She’s laughing loudly into the denim of his jeans, and the material does nothing to muffle the sound.

Everyone else is laughing too, though, so it doesn’t matter.

“Alright, so is anyone aware that in four months, we won’t see each other like this anymore?” Beverly asks, a frown on her face as she takes another drink.  “I mean, what, am I supposed to make new friends?”

“Yeah, good look with that, Ringwald” Richie snorts, and Bev just flips him off, the way she always does when he calls her that.

“We won’t be that far from each other” Ben says to her with a sweet smile.

“And it’s not like we won’t write, too,” Stan chimes in.  “Except you Richie, after we graduate, never fucking talk to me again-”

“Oh, I’ll send you love letters every day sweetie pie,” Richie says before Stan can even finish.  “Don’t you worry, it’ll be like I’m right there with you”

He sticks his tongue out and snickers, while Stan grumbles about needing a break.

(y/n) can’t help but giggle at both boys.  Partially because she gets very giggly when tipsy, and partially because they’re the two funniest people she knows.  Richie grins at her when he catches her laughing, only making her laugh more.

“How are w-we gonna do it?” Bill muses, not really looking for an answer, because there really isn’t one.

“We don’t,” (y/n) shrugs.  “We avoid it until… there’s not really any other option” 

“Dark” Ben mumbled.

“It’s true,” (y/n) argued.  “If we go through this year with the mindset that this is the end, then we’ll push each other away, it’s psychology”

Eddie nods because he was in her class and is pretty sure he remembers hearing that.

“So we just live our best year” He agrees with her.

She high fives him.

“Well you’re already on your way,” Beverly said, and stood up from where she sat next to Mike so she could plop down next to her best girl.  “What, with your fancy scholarship, and your boyfriend” She singsonged the word, and (y/n) wilted with embarrassment.

“Come on Bev-”

“Are you guys gonna stay together?” Stan asks, the gears in his head turning as soon as her boyfriend was mentioned.  “I mean it’s been like… five months, right?”

“Four and a half” (y/n) mumbled, pulling her knees to her chest.

She stares down at her drink, and then takes a long swig.  She had a feeling she’d need it.

Talking about her boyfriend when everyone was around was… awkward.  It was one thing if it was just her and Beverly, but to have all the boys’ eyes on her every time his name came up made her feel hot, like she was being interrogated.

“So you’re kinda serious,” Stan shrugged.  “How many times have you done it?”

She chokes, and coughs for a long moment before catching her breath.

“Stan you don’t get to-”

“Come on, just fess up,” Beverly giggles.  “We won’t make fun! Promise!”

(y/n’s) cheeks go hot, and she knows they’re pink and that she’ll only be picked on more for it.  She locks eyes with Richie, who winks at her, and now her face must be red.

“We- uh-” Her eyes dart away before she can choke and lose her train of thought again.  “We actually um… haven’t… done… that” She says slowly, and with every reluctant word her voice gets softer.

“What?” Eddie screeches.

“No way,” Stan is laughing in disbelief.  “Come on, just give up the number.  What, ten? Fifteen? Twenty-?!”

(y/n’s) eyes are narrowed at him, silently yelling for him to fuck off.

“Really?” Beverly asks, just as shocked as the others.

Well, everyone was surprised.

“But he’s so…”

“Hot?” Eddie offers, only to get nudged in the ribs by the trashmouth next to him.

“I was going to say affectionate,” Beverly answers, staring skeptically at Richie.  “He’s always hanging all over you, how have you not hooked up?”

(y/n) shrugs her shoulders and stares down at her drink again.

“I dunno” She mumbles weakly.

“Has he tried-?”

“This is super awkward, can we be done?” She asked, voice still soft, embarrassed.

“I mean come on, don’t you want to f-”

“Can we stop fucking talking about this, before I’m forced to visualize his dick?” Richie cuts in, faking a gag.  “Oh, fuck, too late, thanks a lot you sluts”

Stan and Beverly are distracted by the comment and burst into laughter while Richie pretends to throw up.

After the conversation ends, and Ben starts talking about the colleges he’s deciding between, (y/n) glances over to her favorite glasses-wearing idiot.  He catches her gaze, and she mouths ‘thank you’.  He just smiles, before diving right back into conversation about why Ben should be an architect and not a poet.

A few beers later and they have to cut themselves off, because if they drink too much then Bill’s parents will notice and they’ll all get in trouble.  They shouldn’t be drinking anymore anyways, because everyone’s relatively tipsy, and with the general excitable mood among the group, drinking more would be a bad idea.

Everyone’s lying on their backs, staring at the ceiling and talking about nonsense.  What was once a serious conversation about their future has turned into a debate about what the most important thing to have when stranded on an island would be.

“A knife, definitely a knife” Mike argues.

“What? Fuck no, a gun” Stanley fights back, thus starting an argument about not having bullets because you can only choose one item.

“Flint? I guess? I don’t fuckin’ know” Beverly says sleepily.  She didn’t care much for this discussion when it started, and forty five minutes later, she still doesn’t.

“I’d bring an issue of Maxim, for sure.  Gotta keep busy you know-”

“Beep beep, Richie,” Eddie grumbles.  “I’d bring an epipen.  I’m allergic to everything on an island”

“Oh fuck off, you’re not allergic to sand” Richie smacks the boy on his arm for suggesting something so idiotic.

“I’d bring  one of my grandpa’s sheep,” Mike spoke after what seemed like forever of deliberation.  “It’d save his life and I’d have a companion”

“That’s sweet,” (y/n) cooed, smiling delightedly at the idea of Mike wanting a friend more than anything else.  “I’ll take a sheep too, please”

The two break out into laughter for a few minutes, uncontrollable, belly aching laughter.

“You can’t copy Mike, come up with your own!” Eddie scolded, offended that (y/n) tried to break the rules of their made up game.

“Alright, alright, let a girl think first…” (y/n) folded her arms over her head as she squinted, to help her thought process.  “Um… a book”

“A book?” Eddie laughed almost maniacally at her answer.  “Alright, just fuckin’ take a sheep from Mike, that was even worse”

“What? No it isn’t,” (y/n) argued.  “It’ll keep me occupied and entertained, and when it’s done I can read it over again”

“Lame” Eddie muttered.

She reached over to smack him, and sadly Bill got caught in the crossfire.

“You wouldn’t bring your lover?” Stan teased, and she almost hit him too.  “You’d pick a farm animal over your boyfriend?”

“I didn’t think of it like that” She said quietly.

“I don’t get you guys,” Stan says, and she sighs because the conversation has somehow drifted to him, again.  “I mean, it’s been four and a half months, and typically couples get it on for their one month.  But you’ve had four anniversaries and still haven’t-”

“Why are you so interested in my business, Stanley?” (y/n) asked, a bit more defensive than she needed to be.

He raises his hands and pulls an innocent face.

“I’m just worried about you!” He retorts.  “You’re the one in desperate need-”

“I’m not desperate for anything” She snaps.

“Yeah, Stan, she’s not a virgin, (y/n’s) gotten some before” Beverly makes an attempt to back (y/n) up, but it only makes her feel worse.

“What? But he’s her first boyfriend- oh my god, who was it?” Stan asks, way more interested in this topic now.

“Leave me alone” She rolls her eyes and shoves his shoulder.

“Oh god, it must be real embarrassing,” Eddie is giddy for the gossip now, sitting up to join in better.  “Who was it?”

“Cut it out” She says a bit louder, sharp eyes meeting Eddies, a silent threat in them.

“Who was it, Bev?” Eddie asked, deciding to go the source it came from.

But she shrugs her shoulders, and makes an ‘I don’t know’ sound.

“What do you m-mean you don’t kn-know?” Bill stammers out.

“She didn’t wanna tell me” Beverly answers, simple as that.

(y/n) covers her face with her hands.  She wishes she was more drunk than she was, because then maybe there was hope for recovering from this.  Or maybe even forgetting completely.

“Must be real embarrassing,” Richie teases.

She peeks at him through her fingers.

“Bowers?” He asks with a raised brow, and she barks out a laugh.

Everyone laughs then, at the mere idea of anyone hooking up with that nutcase.

“I promised I wouldn’t tell, okay?” She admits after the laughter has died and all attention is on her again.  “It’s private” She adds softer.

“Fine” Stan gives in, not wanting to make the girl anymore uncomfortable.

If they knew anything about (y/n), it was that she kept secrets and promises locked away forever.  She was the most trustworthy person any of them had ever met.  And she’d never break someone else’s trust either.

“But if you’ve done it before, why aren’t you, yaknow, still doing it?” Stan asks, and begins to giggle at his own words.  “I mean, if I had a hot girlfriend, I’d be doing it like… all the time”

“Pervert” (y/n) mumbles.

“Did you just call (y/n) hot?” Eddie asks, and everyone ooohs at his catch.

“Alright, alright! Calm down, of course I did!” Stan announces, and a blush takes over the girl’s face again.  But this time she’s not embarrassed, she’s flattered.  “It’s an observation, okay? Jesus”

She giggles, and leans over to kiss his cheek.

“You guys are so dumb,” She mumbles.  “I love you all so much”

“All I’m asking,” Stan declares, voice loud.  “Is why you’re avoiding it!”

“I’m not avoiding it” She argues, but she knows she’s failed because it’s such a blatant lie, and any sober mind would be able to see that.

Luckily, no one in this room is sober.

“Oh yeah?” Stan scoffs.  “Have you been home alone with him in the last four and a half months?”

“Yeah?” She asks, voice cracking slightly.

“And you didn’t screw him?”

“Watch it” Richie’s voice bites from where he lies a few feet away from them.  Stan pays it no mind, but Bev kicks his leg, and furrows her brow at him, wondering why he gave a fuck what Stan had to say.

The others were either asleep, or didn’t want to step in on the mini argument (y/n) and Stan were having.

Ben and Mike had passed out on the floor a few minutes ago.  And Eddie and Bill just sat and listened to the argument, wishing they could pass out.

“No, I- I didn’t,” (y/n) stammers.  “But so? I don’t want to rush it-”

“Liaaaar,” Stan singsongs.  “You don’t want to hook up with him”

“That’s not true!” She exclaims.  “We-. we’re actually hanging out at his place tuesday night,” She tells him matter of factly.  “Alone!”

“Ooh, good for you,” Stan retorts sarcastically.  “That doesn’t mean shit unless you actually take your pants off”

Her face scrunches up as her eyes narrow at him.  Now she’s angry, because he doesn’t believe her, and he’s not trying to.  So what if she’s lying through her teeth? He’s her friend and he should believe her.

“I’m tired” She announces suddenly, and forces herself to stand up.

She steals one of the few blankets on Bill’s bed that he’d prepared for everyone.  Her balance is a bit shaky as she wraps it around herself, and heads for the door.

“Goodnight” She calls, only once she’s left the room and is heading for the pullout bed in the living room sofa.

The room is silent for a few minutes after she’s left.

“Well fuck, you’re gonna have to apologize in the morning” Eddie mumbles, and San knows he’s talking to him.

“I didn’t think she’d get that pissed,” He replied guiltily.  “I was just messin’, I thought she’d just get embarrassed.  I don’t know what I did-”

“She doesn’t like talking about that stuff, dumbass,” Richie says.  “Shit makes her uncomfortable”

“Well I didn’t know that-” Stan starts to argue.

Beverly stops him before he can start any more drama tonight.

“Don’t worry about it, Stan, she’ll be alright,” She says, and then gets up to get a blanket as well.  “I’ll go talk to her to make sure she really is alright, goodnight”

The boys mumble a ‘goodnight’ back to her, and she descends the staircase to check on her friend, who’s laying facedown on the mattress.

“Oh, hon,” Bev laughs, and lays down next to her.  “Don’t be so upset with Stan, he was just being dumb-”

“I know” (y/n) mumbles into her pillow.

Beverly pulls the blanket she’s brought with her and drapes it over her back, so she won’t get cold while she’s pouting.

“Then what’s troubling you?”

Her words are a bit slurred, but the care is still there.

“I just… I don’t know.  I didn’t have to think about it before and now I can’t stop,” (y/n) admits with a sign.  “And maybe I’m upset because… he’s right.  Maybe I’m upset because he’s write and I wouldn’t admit it to myself, but I have been avoiding hooking up with him.  I mean, so much could go wrong and I just… don’t want to have a bunch of drama our senior year, yaknow? I want it to be smooth and easy.  And so far with him our relationship has been smooth and easy, but what if he’s wanted to do it this whole time and I keep dodging him and now he’s gonna break up with me?”

(y/n) lifts her head to turn to her redheaded friend for advice.

But Beverly is sound asleep, snoring softly against her pillow.

(y/n) can’t help but smile a bit, even though she really needed help sorting out her messy thoughts.  But she wasn’t going to bother Beverly by waking her up.

So she carefully crept off the squeaky pullout mattress, and went back upstairs.

Ben and Mike are still asleep on the floor, but someone’s thrown a couple blankets over them.

Stan is on Bill’s bed, facing the opposite direction as Bill, and they’ve both knocked off as well.

Maybe everyone else had more to drink than her, she thinks as she shuts the door to leave them be.  When she turns to head to the guest bedroom, she nearly runs into Eddie.

“Who are you looking for?” He asks right away.

He rubs his tired eyes, and she adores that he looks like a child when he does so.

“Um-”

“Richie’s in bed already,” Eddie says before she can answer.  “If you’re gonna prank him, you might want to wait a few minutes, so you know he’s in a deep enough sleep”

(y/n) chuckles at the unprompted advice, and nods her head.

“Alright... thanks” She says.

Eddie doesn’t say anything else as he pushes past her to go to sleep in Bill’s room.

“You aren’t gonna sleep in the guest room?” She asks with furrowed brows.

“Fuck no, Richie kicks and talks in his sleep.  I’d rather stay on the floor with those two” Eddie answers, and then gives her a small wave before shutting the bedroom door.

She takes a deep breath as she stands in front of the guest room’s door.  And then before she could stop herself, she opens the door, and shuts it quickly behind her as she steps inside.

Richie's laying in bed, arms wrapped around the pillow that his face is pressed into.  He mumbles a slurred ‘who is it?’ into the feathery cushion.  But he knows it’s her before she even answers.  Because as she sits on the side of the bed next to him, he can smell her perfume.

He squints up at her, having lost his glasses somewhere in Bill’s room, and wonders what she’s doing here.

“Surprise” She says weakly, and a slight smirk tugs on his lips.

“What’s goin’ on?” He asks, leaning his face back down into the comfort of the cool pillow.  He was already getting a headache from the four beers he had.  (He’d drank two of the three Eddie had gotten)

“Can we talk?” She asks in a voice so soft that she can only be referencing one thing.

Richie nods, and pats the space next to him with his palm.

She hesitates for just a moment, before giving in and laying down in the spot, grabbing a hold of the other pillow she mirrors Richie’s actions and hugs it under her head.

He doesn’t say anything, just lays there with his eyes closed in the dark and waits for her to go first.

“Was I….” She starts, but then bites her lip and shakes her head as she changes her mind.  “When we…”

“...hooked up?” He offers.

It’s so casual, so quiet, that her heart skips a beat, because she can’t believe he can just say it like that.  Speak their darkest, most carefully kept secret, out into the open like that.

“Yeah…” She mumbled back.  “Was I… I don’t know… good?”

He opens his eyes now, and his brows furrow as he sees her anxious expression.

They hadn’t talked about it since it had happened, which was their deal, but after her argument with Stan he figured she was going to sneak in here and talk to him.  He’s not sure why she looks so scared, though.

“Were you good?” He repeats her question, like he doesn’t understand it.

She nods her head.

“(y/n), of course you were good, you were you,” He chuckles, a genuine smile on his lips.  The compliment, if you could call it that, made her blush.  “He’ll be lucky to have you in his bed, alright?”

“Be honest with me,” She said.  “Don’t just say stuff to make me feel better”

“I’m not” Richie grumbles, laying back down again.

His head his swirling a bit, and with her laying so close to him, it wasn’t helping.

“Why haven’t you done it yet, anyways?” He asks her after it’s been silent for too long.

“I…” She tries and fails to answer the question.  But she’s her most honest self when she’s with Richie, and feels he deserves an explanation for her behavior tonight.  “... was scared” She finishes after a few minutes.

“You’re scared of sex?” He mumbles, and she shakes her head.

“No… just… with him”

“That makes no sense, (y/n/n)”

“I know” She whispers out, and her fingers draw patterns on the sheets.

“You think he’s gonna… hurt you?” Richie asks, because as soon as the thought crosses his mind, he has to ask.

“No, of course not,” She replies, and lifts up his blanket so she can shimmy under it and warm up a bit.  “Sometimes I feel like I just don’t know him” Her voice drops to a whisper again.

Her eyes are focused on his tee shirt, trying to figure out what band is advertised on it while Richie thinks.  He’s not sure what to tell her, because of course he doesn’t want to promote her hooking up with him.  But… the guy’s her boyfriend, so what’s he supposed to do?

“(y/n)....” He sighs, and subconsciously wraps an arm around her.  His hand tangles in her hair, massaging her scalp comfortingly.  “That’s not true, you’ve been together for a while now”

The logic is there, but she’s unconvinced.

“And besides,” He continues, and she looks up at him, meeting his kind eyes.  “When you’re ready, you’ll know,” He says, and he grins before poking her cheek and nose.  “But you already know that”

She giggles softly, swatting away his hand.

“I hate when you’re right, you know,” She says through a yawn.

Without thinking, she leaned her head into his chest.

“What if I don’t want to do it, though?” She asks.  “What if… what if I don’t like it?”

“You hurt my feelings when you talk like you’ve never done it before”

“No more jokes,” She whispers.  “I mean it”

“Then you tell him, and you stop,” Richie answers without missing a beat.  “That’s how it works… you know that, right?”

“S-sure,” She stammers out.  “But what if-”

“No, there’s no ‘what ifs’ about that one, (y/n/n),” He tells her seriously.  “I’m not fucking around, if you want to stop then you-”

“Don’t worry, Rich,” She hums.  “You don’t have to give me the consent talk, that’s not what I mean”

His brows furrow down at her, but she doesn’t see because her eyes are closed and her face is hidden in his shirt.  For a second he’s distracted and wonders if he should be holding her like this when she has a boyfriend.

“What… do you mean, then?”

“What if I’m not… um…” She trails off, clearly embarrassed.

“Come on, don’t hold out on me now” Richie chuckles teasingly.

“... attracted to him… sexually?” She speaks like she’s unsure of her words, and it takes everything in Richie not to laugh out loud.

“That’s not something I can fix, hon” He tells her, and she can tell he’s holding back a laugh.

She’s silent, and Richie hopes she hasn’t fallen asleep, because knows it wouldn’t be right to share a bed for the night.

“I mean you’ve… done other stuff, right?” He asks, and even that seems wrong.  He really shouldn’t even be talking to her about this, but it’s not his fault that he’s the only person she can talk to about this stuff.

(It’s maybe his fault that they slept together in the first place, but surely (y/n) can take some responsibility for that one)

“Not really” She says in a barely audible mumble.

“Not really?” He repeats, confused by the question.  “All you’ve done is-”

“We’ve made out a couple times,” She tells him before she overthinks it and starts to feel uncomfortable.  “That’s it”

“Clothes have never come off?” He asks with a chuckle he can’t contain.

(y/n) shakes her head.

“What the fuck is wrong with-”

“Richie…”

“-him?” He finished anyways, taking her by surprise that he wasn’t trying to bash on her.  “Look, (y/n/n), it’s your relationship, you do what you want to do.  But do you even see a future with him?”

She’s silent again.

And then she shuffles off the mattress, and heads for the door.

“(y/n),” Richie called with a sigh.  “It’s just a question”

She held the open door in her hand, and looked back at him.  He had a guilty but confused look on his face, and was propped up in ed, hoping she’d come back and finish talking.

“I’m tired, Richie,” She said softly.  “Goodnight”

He let out a sigh, regretting having been so forward and pushing her out of her comfort zone.  He hadn’t realized it when he’d asked, but he sure as hell could tell now.

“Goodnight” He said before she could shut the door behind her.

(y/n) was glad that Beverly was fast asleep on the pullout bed still, because all she did for the rest of the night is fuss to get comfortable, only to lay wide awake, overthinking.

Trying to figure out a future with her boyfriend in it. ___

[ oh feel our bodies grow, and our souls they play // yeah love i hope you know how much my heart depends ]

It was loud, it was so loud that the bass in the music playing was ringing in her ears, and making the liquid in her cup ripple.  But that might have just been because she was stumbling around so much, trying to find somewhere to chill out for a minute in this sea of bodies.

Richie Tozier’s hand was holding on tightly to hers, pulling her behind him, acting as a guide through the chaos.  But who was she kidding, he was the chaos.  It was his house party after all.

How he’d even invited this many people, (y/n) wasn’t sure.  It’s not like he knew everyone here, but word of mouth works fast in Derry, and a byob party that had half a dozen kegs and then some, not one student from their school missed it.

Even Stan was here… somewhere.  

It was a bit hopeless to go looking for people in this crowd.

Finally Richie had taken them outside.  There were still a couple dozen people hanging out in his backyard, but at least she could hear herself think, or take a step without bumping into someone.

“Thank god,” She huffed, pushing her hair out of her face and taking a drink.  “I thought I was gonna get trampled to death in there”

Richie chuckles, eyes shining as he watched her finally relax a bit.

“You would’ve made this party worth talking about if you had” He teases her.

“I think it already is,” She replies with a small and nervous laugh.  “The whole school’s here, Rich, I think people will be talking about it for a- who brought a kiddie pool?”

She cuts herself off as her eye catch a plastic pool, filled with eyes and the most beer she’s ever seen all at once.  They definitely hadn’t brought it, although she’s surprised that none of them had thought of it when planning for this party.

“Don’t know” Richie shrugs, and then wanders over to grab them two bottles.

They’d been drinking soda all night, not wanting to get shit faced so they could keep an eye on things.  But they were well past that, and at this point, whatever happens, happens.

She taps her glass against his in a quiet ‘clink’

“Cheers to you, Tozier” She says with a rather sweet smile, the kind that he compulsively smiles back at.

“And you” He replies, before tipping the bottle back and taking a long swig.

The thing about (y/n) was that… well, there was just this thing.  An undeniable, unspoken, electric thing.  There was something about her that drew Richie towards her like a magnet.  Even tonight, he’d shown up at her side, and just like that they’d spent the last two hours together.  She was such a lovely person, which was a rarity in this town.  

He had a feeling that she owned his heart, even though he just had a silly teenage crush on her.  But what had started as a silly crush, an admiration for her beauty, grew into an adoration of her entire being, her soul.  He was falling for her, at a speed from the atmosphere, and he was bound to crash soon.

Her hand reaches out and seizes the sleeve of his denim jacket, yanking him towards her all in one motion.  His heart’s beating out of his chest with anticipation, but as quickly as she’d grabbed him, she was shaking him out of his daze.

“You almost got knocked over,” She tells him, nodding to the pair of drunken boys with their arms slung around one another, stumbling around the backyard, trying to walk in sync.  “You alright?”

“Yeah, sorry, out of it” He answered with choppy words.

He finds the crease between her brows adorable.

“You only took one sip,” She jokes, poking at his bottle.  “Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?” She asks, holding four fingers in front of his face while giggling.

Richie rolls his eyes, grabbing her hand to pull it out of his face.

But he doesn’t let go.

And for the next hour, as they talk and drink a little and dance, her hand remains in his.  She didn’t say anything about it, which he’s silently thankful for.  Maybe she feels safer when attached to him, knowing she’s not going to get sucked into the crowd and lost.  Or maybe she just… wants to.

They’re dancing in the living room, to a song neither of them knew, with a hundred strangers, when she finally mentions it.

“You’re blushing!” She announces, albeit a bit tipsy.

There’s a grin on her face, and with her free hand she pokes at the pink on his cheeks.

“Cut that out- what’s with you and jabbing your fingers at me today?” He says, trying to brush it off and get her to forget about it.  It doesn’t work.

She bursts into a fit of laughter, and her body leans towards his a bit as she does.

She only lets go of his hand to wrap her arms around his neck and spin them around excitedly.

“You never blush,” She says.  “So what’s on your mind?”

She sounds bubbly, as if his answer is amusing to her, and she’s impatient to hear it.  Richie shakes his head, and wills the heat in his face to go away, but it doesn’t.  Of course it doesn’t, she’s standing a few inches away from him and staring at him with those round and curious eyes that he loves and-

“You” He responds with a shrug.

His voice is cool and casual as ever, but he’s losing his shit on the inside.

Her lips form an ‘o’ as she processes the single word.  For a second he regretted speaking, which was kinda normal for him, but then her eyes lit up and she giggles with delightful bashfulness.

A breath of a laugh escapes his lips as he laughs nervously with her.

“You’re adorably funny” She says, and takes him by surprise when she leans up on her toes, cups her face in one hand, and presses a kiss to his other cheek.

When she lands back flat on her feet, she’s amused by the grin that she’d put on his face.

“Drinks?” She asks, and when he pulls a face, she clarifies, “Non-alcoholic drinks”

“Fine” He agrees, and when they head out of the living room, her hand reaches out and grabs his, slotting her fingers through his with ease.

He glances down to her when she does so, but she just gives him a big and innocent smile.

They find their friends in the kitchen.  Beverly and Eddie are quite… shit faced, while Bill is drinking water and trying to get them to have some as well.  From what Richie and (y/n) could tell, his efforts were useless.

“Let them be,” (y/n) says, ruffling up Eddie’s hair with her free hand, only to get swatted away.  “They’ll pay the consequences in the morning”

Bill shrugs and hums in agreement, but he tries to get them to drink something.

“What’s goin’ on here?” Bev asks, pointing at Richie and (y/n’s) conjoined hands.

Richie starts to let go, but she squeezes his hand and smiles almost proudly at her drunk friend.

“Well I don’t wanna get lost” She says confidently.

Beverly shrugs, not having the attention span to ask further questions, or really care.

“Is that- are you- is that rootbeer?” Eddie asks, and he squints at the can in (y/n’s) hand, like he can’t see.  “You’re at a- a fuckin’ party and you’re drinkin’ a soda?”

“Leave her alone Eddie Spaghetti” Richie chides, smacking the shorter boy on the shoulder.

“Yeah, Eddie Spaghetti” (y/n) adds in a mocking tone, and giggles to herself at the nickname.

Eddie hates it, but he’s drunk off his ass, so there’s not much he can do about it.  He’ll try to throw hands with Richie tomorrow.

Bev starts to tell a story about a fight she saw on the front lawn.  It’s missing parts, and she’s having a hard time remembering most of it, but they listen because it’s funny and interesting.

(y/n) sat herself on the kitchen counter, drink in one hand and Richie’s hand in the other, laughing along and encouraging her to continue.  Even when she finishes her story, she’s not sure what happened, or who was even fighting, but it doesn’t matter.

“It’s l-late,” Bill says, eyeing the stove that reads 2:15.  “I think I should go”

“You’re not staying the night?” (y/n) asked.

Richie’s parents would be gone for another day, leaving plenty of time for the Losers Club to hang out, and clean up the trashed house everyone else left behind.

“No, I sh-shouldn’t,” He says.  “B-but I’ll come b-back tomorrow to help with th-the mess” He adds in a reassuring tone.

“Alright Billy,” (y/n) reaches her arms out towards him, prompting him to hug her goodbye.  She embraces him tightly for a short moment.  “See ya tomorrow”

He gives a small wave, and then offers a ride to Eddie and Bev.  They both decide to keep drinking and crash at the house.  He’s not surprised.

“I feel like dancing!” Beverly declares, and is out of the kitchen before anyone could say a word.

“Man is she fuckin’ wasted” Eddie chuckles.

Richie and (y/n) burst out laughing at the irony, but don’t tell him why it’s funny when he asks why they’re laughing their asses off.

Eddie winds up sitting on the kitchen floor, and then laying on it, cradling an empty bottle of vodka to his chest.

“You gonna sleep down there with him?” Richie asks (y/n), and gives the asmathic on the floor a gentle kick.

(y/n) giggles and shakes her head, and without thinking, reaches out to grab onto his hands again.  With a small tug, he steps closer, almost standing between her open legs.  But he doesn’t dare move that close.

“No…” She answers after a minute.  “There’s no way in hell you’re making me sleep on a floor”

“Well, if the beds are all taken-”

“Richard Tozier” She says his name firmly, “If you don’t give me a bed to sleep in like a human fucking being I swear I will-”

“You’ll what, sweetheart?”

His voice drops an octave, and his head cocks to the side a bit as he stares at her skeptically, wondering what it was she was about to say next.  When her mouth is left hanging open, he smirks a little.

“Come on (y/n/n), you’re not the threatening type,” He speaks at a normal volume again, but his closeness and the look on his face doesn’t fade.  “Besides, you got nothing on me”

“Oh, I doubt that-” She tries to argue, but he cuts her off again.

“Just try to think of something, you can’t.  My record’s squeaky clean”  

He leans a bit closer with every word, but the movement is miniscule, and she’s probably the only person in the room who could have noticed it.

As soon as he eyes wander to his lips, they dart right back up, but it’s too late, he caught the glance, and his smirk widens.

Richie quirks a brow in question, like an asshole.

She sets her soda can on the counter next to her.

“You really value me so little that you’ll make me sleep, where, on the floor? The bathtub?”

“I think the tub is still occupied, actually,” Richie says.  “And the floor, well, it’s covered in trash and…” He looks down to Eddie, who’s very close to passing out.  “... more trash”

(y/n) hits his chest with the back of her hand.

“That was for Eddie” She says, and Richie laughs.

She’s got an offended look on her face, and fuck if it wasn’t the cutest thing he’s ever seen…

“I’m just saying sweetheart…” He shrugs his shoulders innocently.  “Your sleeping options aren’t looking great.  Pretty much everywhere is taken”

She’s quiet for a moment, and he can tell she’s hesitant, because she bites down on her lip, and she has a hard time keeping eye contact.  He doesn’t rush her to say whatever’s on her mind, just stands there, unmoving, and waits.

“Show me a bed, then, Tozier”

It’s soft, whispered like a secret, and unsure.

They’re both still for a beat, each waiting for the other to back out.

But neither do.

So he offers her his hand, which she gladly takes before hopping off the counter and following closely behind him.  Through the thinning crowd in the living room, and then up the stairs.

When they’re in the hall, he casts a look over his shoulder to her, and her eyes meet his instantly.

There’s something serious in them that he’s never seen in her before.  Like she was trying to tell him something, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it is.

Her free hand grabs onto the sleeve of his jacket, tethering herself to him.  There was nowhere to get lost up here, everyone was downstairs.  Except for the boy passed out in the bathtub, and Richie was fairly certain a couple passed out in his parent’s bedroom.  But right now, they were alone.

He brings her to his room, carefully peeking in to make sure no one was in there, before letting her inside.  He’s quick to shut and lock the door.

(y/n) gives him a look at the sound of the lock clicking, and his face flushes.

“I mean- it’d be weird if some frisky couple were to come in- while we’re in here” He defends his actions.

She just hums, and wanders over to his dresser, where his fish tank sat.  She smiled at his goldfish before swirling the tip of her finger in the water.

Richie just admires her while she glances over his things.  The picture frames, the trinkets and forgotten things he’s left there.  She looks so natural standing there.

It wasn’t often that she was in his room, Richie’s house isn’t somewhere that everyone hangs out at, and (y/n) and Richie rarely hang out alone.  It was kind of nice to have so much time with her tonight, just her.  And still, he wanted it all the time.

She can feel his eyes on her, and when she turns around, she isn’t surprised that she was right.

She gives him a small smile, and clasps her hands together behind her back.  It was a nervous habit she had, squeezing her hands together tightly, and Richie loved seeing her do it now.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been in here,” She says, desperately trying to fill the silence.  “Hasn’t changed much though” She added in a quieter voice.

He doesn’t say anything, and it only amps up her nerves.

And then he strides over to her, rather quickly, and her breath caught in her throat as he’s suddenly towering over her, face a mere few inches away from hers.  

She’s frozen, staring at him wide eyed and waiting for him to do something.

She’d thought he was going to kiss her, and when he didn’t, hear heart only beat harder in her chest.

“What?” She asks, wondering what he was doing if he wasn’t going to make a move.

“Nothing” He shakes his head, and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What are you doing then?” She questions him again, voice a hundred times softer.

He gives her a playful smirk, and she almost frowns at him, annoyed by the teasing.

“I’m not doing anything” He hums with a shrug.

She rolls her eyes, done with the games, and steps away.  She needs a breath.  Or two.  Two very deep breaths.

But before she can, Richie’s hand shoots out and grabs her wrist, pulling her back so rough that she collides into his chest, making them both stagger for a brief moment, until his lips crash down into hers.

She’s just gotten her balance back when he pulls away, staring at her expectantly, waiting for her to tell him to stop.

Her lips are parted and she’s panting softly, still in shock, and her eyes flutter open to meet his.

She doesn’t tell him to stop, instead, she leans up on the tips of her toes to kiss him again, a much longer kiss that she wished he’d begun with.

They pulled away at the same time.

“We can’t tell the others!” They both rush out the words so fast, so panicked, but it disappears as they register the other agrees.

And then all at once they’re kissing again.  His hands are gripping her hips, keeping her pressed completely against him, while hers are tangled in his hair, combing and gripping at his strands of curls.

Their lips move so feverishly, both desperate for every second to be fulfilling.  They knew this was a once in a lifetime chance, that this was their only chance, and it had to be perfect.

They part for a few seconds, so (y/n) can catch her breath.

His nose prods against hers, before he takes her cin between his thumb and forefinger, turning her head to the side so that he can trail a line of kisses along her jaw, tracing up to the sweet spot just below her ear.

He bit the soft skin, because he couldn’t help himself.  She gasped softly, and then giggled at the delightful and ticklish feeling of his mouth against the spot.  Her hands tighten a bit in his hair.

Eventually, once he’s left a decent purple mark on her neck, she tugs on his hair, pulling his lips back to hers needily.  She’s delicate as she glides over the seam of his lips with her tongue.  Richie isn’t so sweet as he gladly tangles his own tongue with hers.

When she’s the one to win the battle for dominance, she smirks against his lips.  But Richie’s quick to retaliate, turning her suddenly, and pushing her backwards until she runs into the wall.

Her lips detach from his as she grunts at the surprise contact, and her eyes shoot up to his out of annoyance.

“Jesus, fucking watch it” She mutters.

She grabs the collar of his jacket and yanks his lips back down to hers anyways, already craving more contact.

Kissing Richie Tozier is exactly as she expected, or more accurately dreamed, it would be.  Bliss.  Passionate.  Hot.

She hastily shoves his jacket down his shoulders, and then practically clawed the sleeves off of his arms.  As soon as it was discarded, his hands slammed into the wall on either side of her head, caging her in.  She loves it.

She wonders if he’s really gotten her addicted to his lips in a matter of two minutes.

After a few more kisses, she confirms that he has.

Her arms wrap around his neck and she can’t hold back a smile.

They part for a moment, and then rush to his bed.

(y/n’s) giggling as Richie crawls over her, one hand caressing her cheek while the other is pinned to the bed as not to crush her.  His thumb brushed over her cheekbone sweetly.

“You’re sure?” He asks, suddenly worried that he was rushing her.

But she nods, excitedly, and pulls his face down so she can kiss him again.

“But like-” Richie pulls away.  “You’re sure you’re sure? Like absolutely positive?”

“Richie,” She laughs, shaking her head a bit.  “Yes”

And that’s how it happened. ___

[ but i guess that’s love, i can’t pretend… i can’t pretend... ]

(y/n) had known Richie pretty much her whole life.  And they’d always gotten along, despite his big mouth and his tendency to say the wrong thing at the wrong time.  She found it endearing that he would call her hot stuff and then his face would go bright red, knowing he’d made a mistake.

But the thing was, that changed the day after they’d hooked up.  They were still friends, they still hung out, and it wasn’t necessarily awkward, but it was different.  He didn’t call her cute names anymore, not even sweetheart.  He stuck solely to his nickname for her.

She wasn’t sure if it was because of their incident, or because she was seeing someone.  It often felt like she was walking on eggshells around him, unsure of what to say or do.  It was like as soon as they’d crossed the line between friends and more than friends, she wasn’t sure how to go back to being just friends.

And she hadn’t ever thought of Richie as boyfriend material.  Even when they’d hooked up, she hadn’t considered the idea of being with him romantically.  Sure, he was attractive and funny and… charismatic, exciting, and somehow tender at the same time-”

“Babe..? Babe?”

(y/n) snapped back to reality, spinning around to see her boyfriend standing behind her.  He gave a short laugh before nodding to the dish in her hand that she must have been scrubbing for a few minutes now.

“Daydreaming?” He asks, while she bashfully set the very clean plate on the counter.

“Something like that” She replied, and went on to cleaning the next dish.

They’d had a nice dinner, one they both prepared.  She thought it would be fun to cook with him, maybe they would even listen to music and dance around the tiled floor.  But her boyfriend wasn’t that kind of guy, and this wasn’t a romantic comedy.

Richie would dance in the kitchen with me-

“So!” (y/n) spoke, a little too loud as she tried to rid her own thoughts from her head.  “Movie?”

Her boyfriend grinned, and gave her a thumbs up before leaving the kitchen and heading to the living room to pick out a good movie for them to watch.

(y/n) went back to distracting herself with doing the dishes.  But her pesky thoughts kept on getting in the way of her task.

Thinking of Richie in a romantic light made her feel dazed.  He was Richie.  Trashmouth Tozier, the boy she grew up with that was infamous for trying to ride his bike off the cliffside at the quarry.  He wasn’t someone you had a crush on, he was someone you always had a dumb story about.

But besides that, it simply wasn’t fair of her to think of him this way.  They had both agreed that what they had was a one time thing, and it didn’t mean anything to either of them.  They were just friends, and that was all either of them wanted to be.

At least, that’s what she’d always told herself.

But when she thought back on last summer, all she could remember was how badly she wanted him to kiss her that whole night.  And when he finally had… it felt like she was flying.

Drying the last dish, she left it on the counter, and forced herself to relax on the couch with her boyfriend.

Whatever movie he’d picked, she’d never heard of, and it only took seven minutes of watching it for her to realize why.  It was boring.

She was so damn near close to passing out, even though he seemed excited to share it with her.

“Hey,” She hummed after half an hour of forcing herself to stay awake.  He hummed in response, but didn’t look away from the television.  

So she took matters into her own hands, and turned his head so she could kiss him.

She poured all of the passion that she could into the kiss, hoping to convey that she wanted him, and she wanted him now.

But how could she do such a thing when it wasn’t true? She simply wasn’t convincing enough.  Not to him, or herself.

Defeated, she pulled away from him, and by the look on his face, she knew that he sensed her disappointment.  Which was ironic, because he had never been in sync with her emotions in the last four and a half months they’d been together.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

There was a deep frown on her face, and her eyes were so apologetic that he just knew what was coming next.

“I’m sorry” She mumbled out.

“(y/n)...?” He was hoping that by some miracle she wasn’t about to break up with him.

“I can’t do this anymore” She finished weakly, voice cracking a bit as her throat burned with tears.

“What do you mean?” He asked.  “What’s wrong? What happened?”

She didn’t say anything, just shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to keep herself from crying.  It would be pathetic if she broke up with him and she was the one to cry about it.

“Whatever it is I can work on it, we can fix it-”

“No, you can’t-”

“Yes I can-”

“You can’t fix this!” She shouted, not meaning to come off as angry, but her emotions had flustered her and it was making her frustrated.  “Because there’s nothing to fix, there’s nothing here” She clarified, her hands flying between them.

“What do you mean there’s nothing here?” He asked, sounding broken.  For a moment, she felt bad for saying something so cruel.  “Is there someone else?”

And then her guilt disappeared.

“What? Of course not-”

“Well there- there has to be!”

“Well there isn’t!” She shouted back.  “Jesus Christ, don’t make this more difficult than it has to be,” She rolled her eyes.  “I don’t feel anything, anything, for you! I thought with time that I could learn to love you, but I haven’t.  There’s no spark-”

He seized forward, taking her face in his hands and kissing her frantically.

But just as soon as his mouth crushed over hers, she shoved his shoulders with all the force she could muster, and leapt off of the sofa.

She was stunned to silence at first, surprised that he’d done something so dramatic and… disgusting.

“I’m done,” She said, heading for the door, and putting on her shoes and coat with lightning speed.  “Don’t fucking call me- don’t talk to me at school, I’m done”

He tried to call after her, but she slammed the door behind her as she stormed out, and ran down the sidewalk, just in case he had the idiotic idea to chase after her.

She slowed at the end of the block, mentally striking herself upside the head at the thought.  Of course he wouldn't chase after her.  It would be an act of passion for him to pursue her, and he would be in denial to think he was any more in love with her than she was with him.

It dawned on her that she’d been in denial for the past four months for thinking she could learn to love him.  You can’t learn to love anybody, it has to come naturally.  And there wasn’t one natural thing about their relationship.

She wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm in the chilly december air, and walked the rest of the way home.  She’d had enough of today, and just wanted to crawl into bed, and try not to cry. ___

When the doorbell rang, Richie ignored it.  Surely his parents would get it, and he could stay in bed.

When it rang again, he shoved his pillow over his head.

It wasn’t until the third time the sound rang that he remembered his parents were at an event in Augusta tonight.

So with a groan, and the realization that whoever it was, wasn’t going to go away, he dragged himself out of bed, and down the stairs.

It was almost midnight, who the fuck was a the door? He decided if it was some freshman ding-dong ditching him, that he’d run them down and ruin their shit.

When he whipped open the door, he also opened his can of whoop ass on the unsuspecting freshman.

“Do you realize that it’s the middle of the fucking ni-”

He shut up real fast when he realized it was (y/n) standing there, who now looked incredibly taken off guard to have been greeted so harshly.

“(y/n)?”

It was only then that he realized she was crying softly.

“Oh- oh my god, I’m sorry-  I thought you were-”

“It’s fine” She said, and then sniffled quietly.

“What- what are you-”

“I’m sorry, it’s not r-right of me to show up in the middle of the night,” She whimpered a little bit, and wiped her sleeve over her cheeks to get rid of her tears.  “I should go home-”

“No,” Richie reached out, taking her wrist and tugging her inside.  “Come in, stay” He rushed the words out while shutting the door, not wanting her to leave, and especially not like this.

She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stop her own shivering.  She didn’t even want to look at Richie while crying, but at the same time-

“So what’s going on-?”

Before he could even finish talking, she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder.

Richie stumbled a bit from the sudden force of her hug, but wrapped his arms around her nonetheless and hugged her tightly.

It was obvious that she was trying to stop crying in front of him, but she just couldn’t help it.

“Did something happen?” He asked, but received no answer.  “Are you hurt?”

He could feel her tears seeping into the fabric of his tee shirt.

“Hey, sweetheart,” He called softly, and pulled her away to look at her.  She kept her eyes shut, which made him chuckle, but eventually she looked up at him.  “Come on, (y/n/n),” He hummed.  “Talk to me”

She took in a deep breath, and Richie mentally prepared himself for whatever was going to come next.  It must be serious if she came to him instead of Beverly, or Eddie.

“I couldn’t have sex with him” She murmured.

Richie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and confusion, and a feeling he wasn’t quite sure of.  He never would have guessed that’s what had her so distraught.

“Um…”

“I know,” (y/n) cried out, tears streaming down her cheeks again.  “It’s pathetic, I’m so pathetic!”

“(y/n),” Richie said, setting his hands on her shoulders so she would calm down.  “You’re not- where is this coming from? Why are you so upset about this?”

It took her a minute to catch her breath, and her tears hadn’t really stopped flooding, but at least she could speak again.

“I broke up with him” She admitted.

Richie’s eyes widened, and again, she’d done what he’d least expected.  Her eyes were darting between his, trying to figure out what he was thinking.  But he looked so shocked, she couldn’t tell.

“Do you think I made a mistake?” She asked in a murur, her hands resting against his chest, and her body gravitating towards his a bit more from the sensitive question.

“I…”

He was having a hard time maintaining eye contact with her, his brain moving far too fast and his train of thought going in too many different directions for him to comprehend what he even thought.

“You do, don’t you?” (y/n) asked defeatedly.  “I should’ve tried harder- maybe I could have loved him-?”

“What? (y/n), no, don’t think like that,” He scolded her gently.  “If you didn’t feel anything, then that’s it, that’s the end, it didn’t work”

She stares down at her feet.

“(y/n)...” Richie sighed, lifting her chin softly with his hand.  “Did you even like him?”

She shrugged her shoulders, which was answer enough.

“Oh, (y/n),” His thumb stroked gently against her jaw, before he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her again.  “If you didn’t like him there was never even a chance of you falling in love- that’s just not how it works sweetheart”

(y/n) grabbed the back of his shirt in her fists, just wanting to hold onto him for a few moments longer.

“How’s it work?” She mumbled into his shoulder after embracing for a few moments.

“Well first of all, you don’t learn to do it, it just happens,” He chuckles, and his hands begin to rhythmically rub her back.  “And you won’t find them boring.  That guy was a sack of fucking potatoes (y/n/n) I don’t know what you were doing with him-”

“Yeah yeah I get it,” She cut him off before he could go on.  “What else?” Her voice was so soft, so full of curiosity for where these kind words were coming from, that she just had to know what more Richie thought about the subject.

“Well…” He hummed, still rubbing her back as he thought.  “You typically enjoy their company, more than anyone else’s, even if you won’t admit it,” He was thinking out loud.  “And they’ll always be the prettiest thing in your eyes- even when they won’t stop crying all over you” He teased.

She glared up at him, and wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

“Come on, be real,” She said.  “He was nice, and cute, and he really liked me, why wasn’t there a spark?”

He shook his head at her.

“Like I said.  Can’t learn to love someone, and you can’t force what isn’t there,” He shrugged.  “I’m sorry though.  You’re clearly bothered by it”

She wanted to explain that she wasn’t bothered by the breakup at all.  She was bothered by the mixup in her feelings.  By what she thought to be true- but wasn’t quite sure yet.

“You want tea? Or something?” He offered after she hadn’t spoken for a few beats.

“No,” She shook her head, and then stepped back from him.  “A blanket would be nice though? I had to walk the whole way here and it’s freezing”

Richie chuckled, and nodded.

“‘I’ll get one from upstairs.  Be right back”

He headed off rather quickly, taking the steps two at a time to get a blanket from his room.

The one time she’d stayed overnight, she’d really liked one of his- and he’d know, because she hogged it, and he had to wake her up to get her to share.  So he figured that one would do fine.

At the sound of a soft knocking at his door frame, he turned to see (y/n) standing there.

Her eyes were wandering around his room, mapping it out like it was her first time here.  However, she hadn’t been here since…

He didn’t miss the blush on her cheeks when her gaze landed on his bed, the covers messed up from his attempts to sleep earlier.  And then finally, she looked at him.

“Oh,” She smiled, and walked into the room, taking the blanket from his hands.  “You remembered” She said with a small laugh as she wrapped it tightly around herself.

It was still a little bit warmed, and smelled so distinctly like Richie, it made her want to melt into it.  And she nearly did for a moment.

“Well how could I you almost made me freeze to death that night”  He muttered teasingly.

“Fuck off, I did not” She played back, but her voice was much gentler than his.

He gave her a look as if to say ‘you did though’, which she only rolled her eyes to.

Deciding it’d be best to ignore him, she walked over to his dresser to excitedly play with his fish.  It didn’t do much, but it did swim back and forth in front of her finger, which was amusing enough.

“You… want to watch a movie?” Richie asked.

He didn’t want her to leave, but he didn’t know how to offer her to stay the night either.

“Sure” She answered, and followed him downstairs.

Richie made her pick the movie, that way whatever they watched she wouldn’t lose interest in.

“What?” She’s asked when he tried to leave the room for popcorn.

“I said pick whatever you want so you actually watch it and enjoy it” Richie repeated himself, and was in the kitchen before he could see her face change expressions.

Her heart skipped a beat in her chest, and all she could do was stare at where he stood with his back to her.  She didn’t even bother looking at his DVD collection, and followed him into the kitchen.

“You want me to pick a movie I like?” She asked him.

Richie gave her a weird look over his shoulder as she set the timer on the microwave.

“What? Yeah” He answered.

“But you’ll hate it,” She said matter-of-factly.  “It’s a chick flick, it’s real cheesy, not even Eds would watch it with me”

“Okay?” Richie repeated.  “You setting me up to hate it?”

She stared at him skeptically, and Richie had a similar look on his face, but only because he was very confused.

“Just pick a movie, (y/n/n), anyone’s fine” He chuckled.

He pulled the bag of popcorn out of the mic when it beeped, and dumped it’s contents into a large bowl.  When he turned back around, (y/n) was still standing there.  His brows furrowed, and he popped a kernel into his mouth.

“Would you dance with me?” She asked him.

Her volume was so soft he almost didn’t catch what she’d said, but when he processed the words, he was sure he’d heard her wrong.

“What?”

“Would you dance with me?” She repeated, a bit more clearly.  “If I asked?”

“Is…. that what you want to do?” Richie spoke unsurely, trying to figure out what part of the breakup process ‘dancing’ would fall under.  He shoved more popcorn into his mouth.

“I just wanna know” She shrugged.

“I mean, sure, but then the popcorn would get cold, it’s only good when it’s-”

“Richie” She mumbled, and by some miracle he actually heard her, and stopped rambling.  He knows from the way she’s staring at him, and the sudden softness in her voice that something’s up.  He waits for her to continue, but she doesn’t.

“What?” He feels like he’s lost, because he really has no idea what’s going on with her tonight.  This breakup had really thrown her for a loop, he supposed

“Nothing” She shook her head, and before he could question her about her strange behavior, snatched the popcorn bowl and made a break for the living room.

When they got settled on the sofa and the movie (y/n) picked began to play.  They were sat side by side, the bowl of popcorn separating them.  She tucked her feet up underneath her in an attempt to be more comfortable, and kept on fussing with the blanket.  It was like no matter how many times she readjusted, she just couldn’t get settled.

Eventually, she sighed, and looked over at Richie.

Low and behold, he was completely wrapped up in the plot of the movie, and hadn’t noticed a thing.  (y/n) smiled at this, loving that he’d actually gotten into her lame romantic comedy.  She leaned her head back on the cushion as she admired him.  He was so serious when he was focused on something, his jaw set in place, eyes trained on the screen.  It was so cute how drawn into the movie he really was.

Something happened that made him laugh, and he turned to (y/n) to crack a joke about it, but whatever he was about to say was lost on him when he caught her eyes already locked on him.

“Would you do it again?” She asked, before he could think of anything to say.  He doesn’t have to ask her to clarify what she means, because he knows, he can tell by the way she’s studying him.  “Ever?” She adds in a mumble after he’s been quiet for just a beat too long.

“Well, that’s a trick question now isn’t it?” He chuckles, but she shakes her head.

“No,” She speaks softly, “It’s not, I’m just wondering,”

She’s looking up at him so innocently that he wonders what sparked this question.  Not that he hadn’t been thinking about it every minute of every day for the past four and a half months or so.  He just didn’t think it ever crossed her mind.  They had sworn to each other that it was a one time thing, no pesky strings or feelings attached.  And Richie had thought she’d stuck to that promise pretty well- mostly because not a week later she’d gotten asked out, and then she dated the guy for a while.  

“There’s no wrong answer, Rich,” She giggles, a nervous little sound that was the result of her heart doing backflips in her chest.  “Really”

His eyes flicker between her impatient ones, testing to see if that were really true.

“Kind of” He says.

Her brows furrowed, signaling that there apparently was a wrong answer, and he’d said it.

“Kind of-?”

“Well, there’s a lot I’d do differently” He muses with a shrug of his shoulders, before she could get upset and ask him just what the hell ‘kind of’ means.

She angles her body a bit more towards his, waiting eagerly to hear what he has to say.  But he gives her a confused look.

“What would you do differently?” She asks.  She sounds restless, and Richie chuckles to himself.  “Come on, really”

“For starters, I wouldn’t have chosen to do it at my own houseparty.  Someone busted the coffee table you know, and I blame you for that-”

“What else?” She asks abruptly.

“Alright well,” Richie huffs, deciding there was no turning back now, because she was already more than eager to hear what he was thinking.  “Also probably should’ve been a little more sober, just a little,” She laughed quietly, but didn’t speak so that he’ll keep talking.  “And I would’ve grabbed an extra blanket, had I known you were a blanket hogger”

She laughs again, and this time he laughs with her.  It’s a sweet moment, for it being so vulnerable.

“And I would’ve made sure you didn’t go in the morning” He confesses, in the midst of their laughter.  (y/n’s) laughter stops instantaneously.

“What?” She murmurs, like she’d heard him wrong, because she must have heard him wrong.

“Yeah,” He shrugs.  “I wouldn’t have let you go”

She blinks, stunned.

“You wanted me to stay?” She asks, a sweet little whisper that was bound to make everything come crashing down.

“Of course I did,” Richie chuckles.  “I’d be an idiot to let you- I was an idiot to let you go.  I hated that feeling,”

She’s silent again, her lips parted as the more he explained himself, the more surprised she was.

“It felt like- like I’d made the biggest mistake of my life- and trust me sweetheart, sleeping with you was a miracle- but if I could do it over again I wish that I could’ve...um…”

She’s waiting, hanging on to every word he spoke.  She doesn’t realize that she’s leaning closer to him, too antsy to wait for him to find his voice.

“(y/n/n) if I’m being honest then I would’ve told you how I felt- about you- that night”

“How you felt about me?” She repeats in disbelief, and then sits upright on the couch, realizing they’re only a few inches away from one another.  

Richie watches her as she takes the popcorn bowl and sets it to the side.  And then leans back in towards him again, giving him her undivided attention.

“And how did you feel about me?” She murmurs.

Her hands set on his wrists, grasping onto them softly as his hands reach out to wrap around her waist.

“How didn’t I feel- Jesus I liked you so much I lost my fucking mind when you wanted me too”

Once he’s holding her firmly, she lets go of his hands to rest her palms on his shoulders, tilting up towards him to be more at his height.  Even sat on the couch Richie practically towered over her.

“I didn’t know it was more to you than a quick fuck” She hums.  Her voice is too sweet to be saying something so filthy, and it makes him chuckle just a bit.

He couldn’t help but tug her hips forwards, small prod really, but she took the bait and swung her leg over his lap.

“There was nothing quick about it sweetheart,” He teases, and as she situates herself on his lap, he releases one of his hands from her waist to gently trail his fingers over her throat, until his hand settles against the side of her neck.  She’s blushing, but she’s smiling with anticipation.

He pulls her towards him a bit, and the tip of her nose presses against his cheek, her lips barely ghosting his.  When her eyes flickered shut, Richie smirks

“And you were never a quick fuck”

She leans in, wanting nothing more than to kiss him and never stop.  There was more electricity between them in this moment than she’d ever felt with her ex, and the realization made her feel like she was alive again.

Just as her moment of liberation is about to happen, the doorbell rings.

Richie brushes it off and cups her cheek, leaning in to kiss her anyways, but then his visitor started screaming.

“Richiieeee!” The distinct voice of Eddie Kaspbrack rings out from the other side of the door.  “Dude! Open up! I got some drama for you!”

Richie and (y/n) turn to look at each other, equally confused.

“Let’s just pretend he’s not there” Richie says, making her giggle as he finally tries to kiss her.

And then Eddie lets himself in.

“I’m coming in!” He announces, and shuts the door behind him.  “You’re not gonna believe this! (y/n) broke up with-”

It doesn’t surprise the couple on the couch when Eddie stops talking, and stares wide eyed and open mouthed.

“What the fuck is going on here!?” He’s screaming, which also isn’t a surprise, but it’s very upsetting.

(y/n) calmly slides off of Richie’s lap, and he lets go of his hold on her.

“Nothing” They say at the same time, unconvincingly.

“You were on his lap-” Eddie accuses.

“I-”

“You were kissing-!”

“No-?” Richie tries.

“You guys have been fucking this whole time!” He screeches.

“No!” Richie and (y/n) speak simultaneously again.

“Wait,” (y/n) walks over to Eddie.  “How did you know I broke up with-”

“He called me” Eddie shrugged.

“What?”

“Yeah, he was trying to call you, but you never picked up.  Clearly you weren’t home, because you were here, letting Richie get in your pants- jesus fuck (y/n) I thought you had better standards-”

“Stop it” (y/n) hissed, before frustratedly running her hands through her hair.

Richie shot up from the couch, walking over in hopes of convincing her to sit back down and relax again.  But she shrugged off his hand and continued to pace around between him and Eddie.

“Very uncool, dickwad” Richie muttered to Eddie, who gave him an exasperated look and flipped him off.

“Why’d you come here then?” (y/n) spoke up.

“Um… huh?” Eddie played stupid.

“Why’d you come here? If my ex called you looking for me, why’d you come to tell Richie the news?”

Eddie and Richie shared a look, only making the girl more confused.

“I- well I thought you’d be here, you know, for support-”

Eddie shut up when the girl narrowed her eyes in disbelief.  He was never a good liar, and (y/n) had a pretty good bullshit detector.

“This isn’t important,” Eddie shook his head.  “What’s important is that he’s heartbroken, and looking for y-”

“I don’t care,” (y/n) said with a humorless chuckle as she crossed her arms over her chest.  “I don’t fucking care! He’s the worst, and he’s insane to think that he was ever in love with me.  Had a real boring way of expressing it-”

“Uh, I’m not here to tell you to get back together with him” Eddie said before she could yell anymore.

“What are you here for, then?” (y/n) asked.

“I could ask you the same thing” Eddie shoots back, and smirks victoriously between the two.

Richie’s just standing there, knowing better than to open his mouth.  If he did, something bad would slip and he knew it, so he stared down at the ground.

(y/n) puckers her lips, casting a glance to Rich before back to Eddie.

“Well?” The asthmatic boy asks.  “What the fuck were you guys up to?”

“None of your business,” Richie says before (y/n) has the chance to say anything.  “You should go, Eds, I’ll call you tomorrow.  We’re busy”

“With what?” Eddie’s practically daring Richie to confess.

“We’re watching a movie, don’t make me fucking kick you out”

Eddie rolls his eyes, bored with the lack of drama, and then heads for the door.

As soon as he closes it, he whips it open again, pointing an accusatory finger at the pair left standing there, as if he’d caught them in the act.

“Go, Eds” They both say, with the utmost annoyance in their voices.

This time when he left, they both watched the door, as if waiting for him to jump back into the room again.  When it was clear he’d actually gone this time, (y/n) let out a sigh of relief.

She looked at Richie, and then back to the couch, where the movie, the popcorn bowl, and her blanket were left unattended.

“I should probably g-”

“You wanna stay the night?” Richie asked before she could finish her sentence, and her eyes shot up to his.

“Really?” She asked in disbelief.

Richie just nodded, and so she hesitantly nodded back.

“Okay” She agreed softly.

“I’ll find something for you to sleep in,” He told her.  “You can finish the movie if you want” And with that he headed up the stairs.

At this point, she was more confused than ever.  She had no idea where her and Richie stood now, the line between friendship and something… else… was so warped in her mind that she couldn’t tell how he felt anymore.

Richie came back down a few minutes later, finding her sat on the couch with the movie paused and the popcorn bowl in her lap.  He grinned as he handed her a long sleeved shirt and a pair of sweatpants that looked very soft.

After changing quickly in the bathroom, she concluded they were the coziest things she’d ever worn.  And Richie’s scent and laundry detergent lingered in them, making every inhale of breath she took be inviting.

When she came back out, Richie was on the couch, just waiting.  His back was turned to her, and she could tell he was drumming his hands on his legs, a frequently done nervous habit of his.

She stood there for a moment, too anxious to walk over and sit with him like nothing had happened in the last half hour.  Even though with everything that’s happened, her heart was beating a mile a minute with no end in sight.

Richie must’ve realized she was there, because he turned and made a face as if to ask why she was just standing there.

His expression softened though when his eyes landed on her figure.  She looked so goddamn cute in his clothes that were just a bit too big for her.  And by just a bit, I mean the sleeves kept falling over her hands and the waistband of the sweatpants had probably been rolled three times to keep the fabric from barely touching the ground.

He thought he was gonna have a stroke.

“You gonna come sit, sweetheart?” He finally spoke, “Or just stand there and look pretty all night?”

She laughs, and the tension in the room thins out a little as she makes her way over to sit with him again.  Richie plays the movie again, and just like before, gets sucked right into it.

(y/n) sort of watches it, but has little attachment to what’s going on.  Her mind is too busy processing everything, there was no capacity to keep an eye on a film as well.

The popcorn bowl is empty, so she can’t distract herself with eating.  And she’s already tapping her fingers on her knee to a made up beat in her mind.  How Richie is able to actually watch this movie right now is beyond her.

“(y/n)?” He asks, and she realizes he’s been staring at her for a while, trying to get her attention.  She hums in response.  “Do you want me to shut off the movie?”

Her eyes are wide as they meet his.

“W-why?” She stammers out.

“Because you aren’t paying attention at all,” He chuckles.  “Are you tired? It is like… one in the morning”

“Uh- yeah, I-I guess” She stumbles over her words again, and balls up the fabric of her blanket in her hands.

He gives her a dorky little smile, and then stands to turn off the tv.  She watches him grab the empty bowl before leaving the room.

She gets up to follow him into the kitchen, but he waved her off.

“You should go up to bed,” He says.  “I’ll finish up down here”

She doesn’t know what else to say, so she follows the instructions.

It dawns on her that she hasn’t told her parents that she won’t be coming home tonight, but as she gets situated in Richie’s bed with her new favorite blanket, she just can’t seem to care.  She decides a lecture when she comes home tomorrow is worth it.

She’s under all the covers, and her face is buried deep into a pillow when Richie finally comes up.  He smirks at how settled she’s already gotten.

“You sleeping already?” He asks quietly, and her eyes open to smile at him.

“No, ‘m waiting” She hums, before snuggling her face back into her pillow.

“Waiting?” He asks, and walks closer to hear her better.

“Mhm”

“For… Santa?”

“For you, dummy,” She giggles softly, and then makes a grabby hand towards him.  “Hurry up”

He laughs, and shakes his head at her, before kneeling onto the bed.

“I kinda thought I should sleep on the-”

“In here,” She whispers, hand finding his wrist and latching onto it.  “With me, please” She adds in a much softer voice, like she’s embarrassed to ask, and he knows that she is.

“Okay…” Richie hesitantly gets under the covers.  “As long as that doesn’t bother you”

“It didn’t before” She replies casually.

Her eyes are closed, but he smiles warmly at the comment.  He thinks she’s falling asleep, but he was wrong, because her hand trailed from his wrist so that her fingertips were pressed into his palm.

“Richie?” She calls quietly.

He hums.

Her eyes open, and she squirms a little closer to him, finding comfort in the heat he radiated.

Her fingers slot into the spaces between his perfectly, and she grasps his hand tight.

“You weren’t a quick fuck for me either,” She admits gently.

He can see in her eyes that she’s uncertain, that she’s nervous to say anything, so he squeezes her hand to reassure her that she can tell him anything.

“And I wanted you long before that night, I just… um…” She licks her lips anxiously before continuing.  “I didn’t think that you uh… actually wanted me, you know, like, more than…” She doesn’t finish her thought, but she doesn’t have to.

Richie gives her a smile, and then reaches his free hand out to brush his knuckles over her cheek.  She smiles back at the comforting touch.

“You’ll stay in the morning?” He whispers, and she nods, brows drawn together as her smile widens.  “Good” He breathes out in relief.

They lean in simultaneously, and their lips touch in a soft and sweet kiss.  (y/n) relishes in how her lips seemed to have his committed to memory, and she melts against him once again.

She pushes forward so that her body is flush against his, and her free hand is holding his shirt in a fist.  She’s filled with more love and lust and happiness that a girl can be, practically overflowing with it, even.

Richie pulls away too soon for her liking, tucking a strand of her hair back behind her ear tenderly before meeting her gaze.

“If anyone asks,” He tells her, “That was our first kiss”

(y/n) giggles, and nods her head before kissing him sweetly again.

“Okay” She agrees.

His fingers comb through her hair for a few moments, and he contemplates laying here, like this, with her, for the rest of his life.  The quiet moment is so serene, so perfect, that he can’t imagine ever being happier than he is right now.

(y/n) whispers something, but it’s so soft that he only catches her lips moving.

“What?” He muses, and instantly there’s a pink blush blooming across her cheeks.  “What?” He asks again, this time chuckling at her bashfulness.

“I love you…” She murmurs, only darkening her blush.

Richie pulls her into his chest, wrapping her up in his arms as he cradles her close for the night.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” He responds with a kiss to the top of her head.  “Let’s do it right this time, okay?”

“M’kay” She hums back delightedly, already beginning to fall asleep in his arms.

It took months of agony and confusion to get here, but it couldn’t be clearer now.  This is what love was supposed to feel like.  She hadn’t learned to love before because that’s simply not how it works.  Her heart already belonged to someone else, and she hardly even knew it.  But now, it and she were all his, and he’d take good care of them.

[ i guess that’s love, i can’t pretend. ]

___

taglist: @fiantomartell​ @lemonypink @darling-egg​​

xoxo ~ jordie

[kyber-crystal]

Divided We Fall

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~2.7k

Summary: In which she feels torn between the man she’s grown to love, whose ideas she agrees with, and her mentor and brother figure - who took her in with open arms and always accepted her when nobody else could.

Warnings: mentions of violence, angst, soft steve as always. you know the drill

A/N: tony’s your sort-of older brother (he took you in to train you not long before howard and maria passed), and you’re around steve’s age? I think? idk. includes a short IW scene but the time skip isn’t as drastic. SUPER SHITTY BC THIS IS A REALLY OLD ONESHOT

Tags: @pies-writes-and-more​ <3

Steve stood alone in the isle after Peggy’s funeral, leaning against the pew as he stared blankly down at the ground with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

You silently approached him and without introduction, he began to speak. "When I came out of the ice, I thought everyone I had known was gone. Then I found out that she was alive. I was just lucky to have her."

"She had you back, too."

Steve looked up, meeting your gaze. "Who else signed?"

"Tony, Rhodey, Vision, Nat."

"Clint?"

"Says he's retired," you smiled slightly.

"Wanda?"

"TBD. I'm off to Vienna for the signing of the Accords. There's plenty of room on the jet."

Steve sighed and bowed his head.

"Just because it's the path of least resistance," you continued, "doesn't mean it's the wrong path. Staying together is more important than how we stay together."

"What are we giving up to do it?" He shook his head, unconvinced by your words. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I can't sign it."

"I know. I don't want to, either. But it's not like I have any other choice."

"The thing is, you do."

"You know why I am." You gave him a hard stare. "Tony...he's basically the only family I have left. I'm no longer a daughter, no longer a girl with dreams...no longer with hope. I'm a weapon. As much as I don't agree with him, betraying him is the last thing I wanna do. He’s my mentor. I can’t just turn against him like that...it wouldn’t feel right."

"Y/N..."

"You know what I've done," you took in a deep breath, "I don't want to hurt any more people. I don't want to be controlled by a government that might not deem everything big enough of a threat for us to go out and do something about it, but I can't risk any more than I already have. I don't have any other choice but to sign those Accords, Steve."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I didn't want you to be alone."

You stepped forward, carefully pulling him into an embrace and at first, he tensed up at your touch but eventually relaxed, letting his arms wrap around you to pull you closer. And he just held you there, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, the other one held to the back of your head. Your head was buried in his chest and the warmth of him felt so familiar and safe; oddly comforting, that your chest began to ache because you knew in a matter of time you'd be ripped apart again.

Steve felt guilty. Despite the fact that he was the majority of the reason why all of this was happening, you still found it in your heart to look past it all and forgive him, to accept him for who he was. 

The broken woman standing before him was someone he'd grown to care about far more than he wanted himself to. Knowing that it wasn't long before you were taken away from him and forced to stand against him only made his grip around you tighten, as he was afraid to let you go out of his sight.

...

Seeing you across from him on the opposite side of the battlefield, standing firmly in between your Tony and T'Challa, broke his heart. If he was forced to fight Tony's team, he would. But he wasn't going to fight you, no matter what.

Everyone, while they were all busy fighting each other, could clearly tell something was going on between the two of you. But they didn't question it. They could clearly tell Steve loved you too much to even try and lay a finger on you and when someone else tried to, he quickly advanced on them.

You finally caved and turned last minute towards the end of the battle, unable to stand against the one man you cared about more than anyone else that wasn't family.

Everyone's actions followed with consequences. Though you'd switched sides abruptly, you'd been granted permission to stay with Tony at the compound under strict circumstances that you never stepped out of line again, or you'd be sent to the Raft prison along with the rest of Team Cap as well.

"Cap loves you, you know," Rhodey noticed your solemn expression as you, him, and Tony sat around in the lounge, taking in the aftermath.

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut as you pressed your fingers to your temples. "I made a mistake."

"We all make mistakes. People do bad things when they're trying to survive."

"Tony, I'm sorry," you turned over to the billionaire, "but I just...I couldn't stand against him. Not when we've stuck together for so long." The words that came out of Tony's mouth surprised you.

"I know. He couldn't do that, either."

"We've all done things that we'd like to take back," you murmured, staring down at your hands now in your lap, "Pain makes people change. I'd like to believe I didn't just do this, I didn't almost turn on you guys. You know I didn't want to sign. But I did, because you're like my family. I can't fight my own family." "He's made mistakes, yeah," Rhodey said, "but we've all messed up, you know. We’re only human.”

"My mistake was letting myself love someone I'd have to end up hurting eventually," you stated bitterly, a sharp edge to your voice.

"Cap made that same mistake, too," Tony spoke up. "We all screwed up. Some of us just have to find it in ourselves to forgive...but I don't know if I can do that yet."

"I know," you glanced over at him, "I miss them so much. Your parents...they changed my life for the better."

The billionaire took in a shaky breath. "I miss them too."

"You guys might wanna open this now," Rhodey handed you an envelope with your name on it, and Tony a package with a phone inside. "Tony Stank."

You snorted, and Tony cracked a small smile.

"Table for one, Tony Stank?" you joked.

"You're practically a Stank too, Y/L/N, you know that," he raised an eyebrow at you.

"Tony Stank just sounds funnier."

You quickly fell silent as you opened the letter.

Y/N, I'm glad you're back at the compound. I don't like the idea of you and Stark rattling around a mansion by yourself. We all need family. The Avengers are yours, maybe more so than mine. I've been on my own since I was 18. I never really fit in anywhere, even in the army. My faith's in people, I guess. Individuals. And I'm happy to say that, for the most part, they haven't let me down. Which is why I can't let them down either. Locks can be replaced, but maybe they shouldn't. I know I hurt you both. I guess I thought by not telling you about Howard and Maria that I was sparing you, but I can see now that I was really sparing myself, and I'm sorry. Hopefully one day you can understand. I wish we all agreed on the Accords, I really do. I know you're doing what you believe in, and that's all any of us can do. I know you didn't want to sign, but you were right in siding with your family. Even though you were on the opposite side of the battlefield, I couldn't fight you. I didn't want to hurt you. I still don't and I never will. No matter what happens. Just know that I ...

"Priority call from Secretary Ross," FRIDAY's voice drifted through the room, "There's been a breach at the Raft prison." "Yeah, put him through."

"Y/N, Tony, we have a problem, Cap and—" Ross called in.

"Ah, please hold," you interrupted.

"No, don't—"

You glanced back down at the letter in your hands, filled from top to bottom with Steve's elegant handwriting.

So, no matter what. I promise you, if you need us, if you need me, I'll be there. It's you, it always has been and it always will be, and I'm sorry for realizing that too late. I'm sorry for not being able to come back. I know I promised I'd always be by your side, and I will. Although I may not in the best situation to return right now, I promise you I'll see you soon. Take care, -S.R.

Several tears welled up in your eyes and slipped down your face as you closed the letter, staining the paper with dark spots.

"So, what'd he say," Tony took in your watery eyes and hard-set jaw. "Something wrong?"

"...He's on the run," your voice broke, "but they're all out. He broke them out.”

...

170 DAYS LATER

It was almost half a year of Team Cap jumping from motel to motel under different names and disguises every night, while still trying to defend the world as best as they possibly could. And when they were caught, Steve was sure that they'd be sent back.

"He'll come back soon, I'm sure of it," Rhodey reassured you as you watched the news of the search for Captain America was still underway. "When someone loves you the way he does, he's gonna find a way to return."

"He doesn't love me. I'm no better than a monster. And...I'm pretty sure he has heart eyes for Sharon."

"Well, he fucked up on that part," he agreed, clasping your shoulder, "but you know what? In the end, he still loves you. We all saw the way he looked at you back in Germany, he didn't want to hurt you. If he truly cared, he wouldn't hurt you even if you were on the opposing side, and that's what he did. I know he's gonna return: for your sake."

"I don't know why I'm letting myself do this."

"What? Loving him? That isn't anything new."

"New?"

"Sweetheart, I knew from the moment I first saw you look at him that you were. Look, love is worth fighting for, but sometimes you can't be the only one fighting. At times, people need to fight for you. You gotta be vulnerable and let him in your heart. Otherwise you'll keep feeling like you're in pain."

He did return.

You'd gone to trial and defended him under your name two weeks prior. Much to your current oblivion, your persuasion had worked and he was granted release and allowed to return, though he did so under the same strict circumstances given to you as well. He was warned to not pull off something like this a second time, and promise to ask for the government's aid whenever necessary.

So you're not expecting to buzz him and the others in late one Friday night.

"Y/N."

"Nat?"

"Can you buzz us in?"

"Uh...yeah, sure," you nodded, opening the gates to let them through. Within minutes, they were standing right in front of you, looking the exact same as they did five months ago, though the exhaustion was clear in all their faces.

"Greetings, Y/N." The android's arm was slung around Sam's shoulders, who was helping to hold him upright.

"Vision."

"It's good to see you guys, Rhodey greeted.

"t's great to see you too," Wanda smiled. She seemed to have aged a bit since you'd last seen her though she was only a teenager, but still looked much younger than everyone nonetheless.

"Well, you guys really look like crap. Must've been a rough couple of months."

"Yeah, well, the hotels weren't exactly five-star," Sam shrugged. "Where's Clint?"

"After the whole Accords situation, him and Scott took a deal. It was too tough on their families, they're on house arrest," Natasha explained.

She turned to you and gave you a tight hug, squeezing your hand as she pulled away. "Hey. How you holding up?"

"Could be better," you gave her a sad smile. "I'm fine."

"Y/N, hey."

Steve stepped out from behind Wanda and Sam and took a few tentative steps towards you, his feet feeling heavier by the second.

The one man you thought you wouldn't be seeing again for a while was now in front of you, and you weren't sure how to react. Your heartbeat was deafeningly loud in your ears, drowning out the sounds of everything else as everyone fell silent upon seeing you two interact.

"Hey," you responded a few moments later, stuffing your hands in your jacket pockets. You lifted your head slowly, an unrecognizable sort of emotion flickering in your eyes for a brief second before you averted his gaze and looked back down at the ground.

He still looked the same, with his dirty-blonde hair and tall, muscular build, those piercing blue eyes and comforting arms. The sight of him alone made your chest ache and your stomach twist itself into knots at the same time you felt butterflies flying around. You hated that you allowed yourself to care about him so much, that your body still reacted to the sight of him even after not seeing him for so long.

"Uh...we'll give you two a moment," Sam awkwardly cleared his throat, leaving the room with the others.

When you glanced back up again you could see just how much being away had affected his overall appearance: his bright blue eyes that glittered with authority and passion had lost their light, red-rimmed and bloodshot with dark circles underneath that indicated it had been days since he last slept.

"I'm sorry, I know it took a while, but I'm here now. I missed you."

"I missed you, too," you said quietly. You swallowed hard, feeling the familiar sting to your eyes as you struggled to keep your tears at bay.

He sighed and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close like you'd done to him before all those months ago, gently rubbing your back. Despite the heaviness in your stomach, it still fluttered at the feeling of your body pressed against his and you sunk into his warmth, his touch making the room feel warmer somehow. His arms that held you were soft and comforting, yet strong and firm at the same time, and the feeling of being so close to him was so dizzying to the point it made your head spin. But you didn't want to let go, so you held onto him as tight as you possibly could.

During the time of his absence, when the majority of your days were spent wandering around the compound alone, you taught yourself to ignore the pressing feeling in the back of your head, the way you felt as if there was some void in your heart that could only be filled by him and him alone. Day by day you attempted to convince yourself that no, you weren't falling in love with him, no, you weren't supposed to fall in love with him because it'd only destroy you in the end.

Yet you still did.

Always playing the part of promoting liberty and justice for all, Steve believed his sole purpose was to inspire and empower others to make the world a better place, blending into the mantra of 'a star-spangled man with a plan.' He always planned things out, always knew what he was doing.

So when he realized as he was holding you there in his arms, that he'd fallen in love with you, he didn't have a plan. And frankly, it terrified him.

He didn't have a plan, so he just decided to go with what his gut told him.

Steve brushed a stray hair that fell across your face and tucked it behind your ear. You looked up in surprise, heart hammering against your chest as his thumb brushed ever so gently against your cheek before he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.

That's all he needed to do in order to eradicate all the anger, all the pent-up frustration and other emotion inside of you, to make you forgive him for every little thing that he's done to break your heart because there was nothing he could possibly do to make you love him any less.

"I love you," you mumbled as you pulled away, resting your head against his broad chest.

"I know. I love you too."

[feminaexlux]

Branded

It’s the @lukanette-exchange fic! After a long while it’s here!! @kingsglaivian I hope you enjoy! Also thanks to LBSC and @quickspinner in particular for finding the cool soulmark prompt lol

I am super, super excited to share this with you!

Original prompts: “childhood friends AU, soulmate AU, and an AU of the exchangee's choice.”

∴

It’d been just a few minutes after they first met when she first wrote her name on him.

She had come closer and stared over his shoulder when she saw he’d been drawing something. Was it a drawing? It looked like he had been drawing circles on a bunch of lines. Oh, Maman had showed her how music was written, it was music! “Hi! Are you drawing music?” She had asked cheerfully.

The boy had startled, apparently not having seen Marinette earlier. His pencil had marked across the entire page. “Aah!”

“Oh no!” Marinette whined. “You messed up!”

“Y-you made me do that,” he frowned. “You scared me.”

“Are you drawing music?” Marinette continued asking.

“Oh, yeah, yeah I am,” he said, turning the pencil around and erasing the errant mark. “I think about music all the time.”

“So what does that mean?” she asked, poking at his paper.

“That’s uh… that's…” he thought a bit. “I think that’s D and the next one is F and another D but this one’s higher. It’s a song from a video game.”

“You play video games?! Papa and I play games too!”

They talked back and forth about a bunch of different little things and he completely forgot what he’d been doing. Then it got to the point where Marinette had pulled out one of her markers and started writing her name on his arm. “– and if stays tomorrow it means you found your true love!” Marinette smiled up at the boy she’d been talking to. He looked like he was a few years older. Maybe he was even 10? Maybe he was younger, he looked really kinda small to be 10.

She was at the playground next to her family’s bakery. She’d been running around and playing with a few other kids there, but she saw this one boy sitting by a tree in the shade. He looked like he was alone and Marinette wondered if he’d been bullied. She knew what that was like, even at the tender age of 5. But it was easy to talk to this boy, he was much less Crazy Mean Boy than Kim was. He was more like Nino! And Nino was nice.

“Is that your name?” the boy asked, staring at her neatly written letters. “Marinette?”

“Yeah!”

“So if it stays tomorrow you’re my true love?” He asked, confused. “Mom told me that writing names on other people is bad… But why?”

“Maman and Papa have their names on each other’s arms,” Marinette said. “It’s not bad! Oh but you have to draw over it ‘cause it’s important that you do it,” Marinette added.

“Why?”

“It’s important,” she clarified. It looked like he was going to keep asking why until his mom called out.

“Ay laddie, it’s time to go,” a lady with a long braid said in their general direction. She had a girl on her hip and was walking over to the boy. “Why hello there lass, are ye makin’ friends with me boy?”

“I’m Marinette,” she said up to the lady. She wasn’t Lass, she wanted to say.

Marinette saw the boy quickly pull down his sleeves from his hoodie to hide her name. “Itwasnicetomeetyoubye,” he said quickly, before Marinette could whine about him hiding her name. He ran away to hold onto his mom’s hand. “Let’s go mom,” he continued, pulling his mom away in a slightly embarrassed fashion.

“Don’t ye want to say farewell? We won’t be ashore fer a while son.” Well, she didn’t know at the time he had wanted to run away and hide so the nice new girl wouldn’t be weirded out by his mom like most people were.

“See you tomorrow!” Marinette yelled after him.

She didn’t.

∴

It’d been just a few days after they first met.

Luka scrubbed and scrubbed at the M on his wrist but it wasn’t coming out. He’d scrubbed himself raw at the sink, his flesh feeling tender and his skin close to bleeding. He’d written over the girl’s marker with a pen a few days ago, idly curious if the mark would stay. At least he’d written over just the M, thinking about the nice girl who’d been curious about him.

“Luka?” He heard his mom call out. No, no, no. It wasn’t coming out and his mom would see it and she’d freak out and he’d have to make an excuse or find some of her makeup or something. He’d been told to take off his hoodie by… that man and so he ran back to the bathroom to try to do something about the M on his wrist.

Anarka opened the door. “Luka, my boy what are ye–” Oh no oh no she saw the mark. He put his hands back in the sink and kept scrubbing, starting to cry. “Luka what…” His mom started, initially alarmed and then… and then she came over to hug him.

“Mom what do I do?” He cried. “It’s not coming out!”

“Who'd… no, it doesn’t matter. Luka stop doing that, it’s not going to come out. It doesn’t, lad.” His mom took his hands from the sink and started to dry them. “It stays no matter how hard ye try to get rid o’ it.” She spoke to him with the rare moment of solemnity. “Ye'e been Branded, and there’s nothin we can do about it.”

“I don’t wanna be Branded!” he wailed.

In a quiet, heated hiss Anarka whispered “This is why I told ye to never write names on yerself!” She looked at her son crying and sighed, shaking her head. Luka would realize later she’d been more disappointed in herself that she’d let him get Branded like he did. She thought she warned him, but how could she blame him for something no one ever thought would happen at 7 years old?

Who finds their soulmate at 7?

But it’d be a shackle for the rest of his life. Luka would grow up wondering if this M would ever be part of his life again, whether M would even want to be his partner. If he did find someone else to be his partner, they’d wonder if they’d ever be loved like whoever this M was. “Here,” Anarka sighed. “Ye can’t get rid of that Luka. But ye can cover it. Forget about it now, lad,” she said gently, taking off the wide leather cuff she had on that had covered her own Brand. “This 'ere’s yers now. I’ll get ye all freshened up. Granpa’s waitin for us,” Anarka said, pasting on a fake smile.

Luka hated that man. He was angry and hateful and mean, but Anarka had wanted to see her own Ma again, to have her Ma help guide Anarka in the raising of two children Anarka never originally planned to have. Granma was nice. But Granpa? No. Luka swore to himself he’d never be like Granpa.

His mom put the cuff around Luka’s Brand, looping twice to fit the small wrist better. “All covered up now. Is that fitting, Luka?” He nodded, staring at the “S” on his mom’s wrist.

“Was… that dad?” Luka asked, pointing at the Brand.

Anarka laughed. “It stands for Scotland,” she said lightly. “It stands for the Sea. It’s not yer da, no,” Anarka lied.

∴

It’d been a few weeks since Marinette met Adrien Agreste.

She’d been convinced Adrien was her True Love, and was continually disappointed every morning when his name disappeared off of her arm. “Tikki, it disappeared again,” Marinette sighed.

Tikki shrugged. “Maybe he’s not ready?” The Kwami had seen this before. The Brands were a form of magic that humans had that linked two souls together, signaling that they’d found their soul’s mate. A person would have to write another’s True Name on themselves somewhere, and it would disappear at sunrise if it wasn’t meant to be. Sometimes, though, it depended on if the other person was even capable of loving back. A Brand that had disappeared earlier might “take” later, when the soulmate was ready.

Tikki wasn’t sure if it was a good thing for Marinette that Adrien wasn’t capable of loving Marinette back yet. Maybe Adrien had a different name? The kwami wasn’t going to put forth the suggestion that it might not be Adrien at all. Marinette seemed convinced, and Tikki knew better than to doubt her bearers.

Marinette’s parents proudly wore the names they had on their arms, a very simple “Tom” on Sabine’s wrist and a beautifully formed script of “Sabine” scrawled across Tom’s massive forearm. Of course it simply encouraged Marinette into writing several names on her own arms throughout the years, even if most people found writing names on themselves taboo.

Recently, though, it’d just been Adrien’s.

None of the attempts ever stuck.

“It’ll happen one day!” Tikki said cheerfully. “I believe that you’ll find your soulmate one day. But right now you should get ready for school!”

∴

It’d been a few months after Juleka showed him that the picture curse was broken that he met the girl that’d been able to break it.

“I’m Ma-ma-ma-Marinette!”

He’d laughed a little and it hurt her feelings. Good job, Luka, that was a great first impression. Luckily he was able to apologize and smooth it over.

It tickled him, just a little bit, that he’d met another “M” in his life that he actually ended up liking. He ended up liking her a whole lot, which… ultimately kinda sucked because she’d been interested in someone else. Well, that was alright. He’d been used to the idea that he’d never find “the one” since he technically already had and lost them so many years ago.

But this one? This “M”? She was pretty cool and he found himself more interested than he’d ever been in anyone before.

There’d been one other “M” in his life a couple of years ago before his mom decided to move them all back to France, and Paris in particular. Her name had been Meryl and she was a pretty awesome girl, but she’d been several years older and already in University. She’d still given Luka some attention though, apparently finding it cute that she had a boy doting on her like he did. She was nice and she said he’d look good with some blue in his hair, and it’d been the last thing she said to him before she found herself her own soulmate. It hadn’t been Luka, of course.

He’d gotten into a fight with Granpa over his hair after Luka had dyed it. Juleka joined him by dying her hair purple. Anarka had finally had enough of her and her kids being put down and said she was going to go back “home”. It’d been a hard conversation with Granpa, but after Granma had passed Anarka and her kids had little reason to stick around in their Scottish family house. Anarka’s little wildlings were less little, and Juleka and Luka were both in their tweens to teens, largely old enough to handle themselves now.

Anarka had found some nearly-derelict fishing barge and spent a few weeks with her kids fixing up the ship, making it their new house, and they left Scotland as soon as they could. She sailed the newly christened Liberty back into Parisian waters, claiming the Seine as her new home. She gave a little wink to Luka, a nod to the new “S” in Anarka’s life that her Brand now represented.

It’d been good to see his mom coming back into her old self, the wild, chaotic, free spirit that she’d always been. He was no longer embarrassed of her like he’d been so many years ago. And he had to be honest to himself, the boat wasn’t the first choice he’d make in having a place to come home to, but something about Paris just felt right.

Juleka had been feeling better too. The younger Couffaines had been under their Granpa’s oppressive shadow for too long. And now they were slowly discovering more of themselves over time.

Rose was one of the first friends Juleka had made after coming back to Paris a few years ago, and they were “best friends” since. Today, Juleka showed him a neatly written “Rose” in a flourishing script on the back of her right hand. Juleka apparently hadn’t minded getting the Brand at all. “Marinette did this too,” Juleka smiled. “She’s been drawing names for people who ask. It’s so cool,” Juleka mumbled.

“She’s amazing,” Luka said out loud. Jules gave him a look and even he couldn’t figure out what it meant. “What?”

“She’s got eyes on Adrien, you know.”

“I’ve heard your schemes, I know.”

“I’m on team Adrienette.”

“Alright.”

“She deserves to be happy.”

“Sounds good.”

“It’d be weird if you two dated, anyway.”

“But we’re not dating. She doesn’t seem to notice me.”

Jules frowned at that and grumbled something that sounded to Luka like “she notices and it’s weird.”

He thought to himself, Not where it matters.

∴

It’d been a year since Adrien lost his mother, and Marinette finally said the words “I love you” to him.

Yes, it was a video recording and yes, Felix had apparently gone through and deleted it before Adrien ever got to see it, but she’d done it! She’d done the thing! She could do it again! It had to be easier the second time, right? The second… time.

She couldn’t bring herself to do it. It’d been nearly a full year of her attempting Adrien’s name on her arm, and nothing changed. She’d stayed up and watched it fade out when the sunlight hit it during a few fitful mornings. She wrote his name so often it stopped looking like a word and more like a familiar pattern. Just shapes and no meaning.

Marinette had tried out a few different names over the year as well, just so she’d be certain… in a slightly unsettling way. She kept it discreet, writing on her ankle or in another place easy to cover up in case it was… taking. She’d written “Nathaniel”, once. It disappeared. She’d written “Chat Noir” and nearly sighed in relief (and maybe deep down in slight surprise) when it disappeared. Not that it was his real name anyway.

She’d secretly tried “Nino” once, even though he and Alya had gotten together. It hadn’t stuck. Nino and Alya hadn’t asked for Marinette to write each other’s names down, and maybe… maybe that was actually healthy? Like they didn’t need any external validation in order to really enjoy time spent with each other.

There might have been a lesson in that.

She tried “Kim” and “Wayhem” and “Theo”, even though the last one kinda creeped her out a bit. She tried “Kagami.” Nothing stuck.

There was still one name she hadn’t tried but… but she’d been absolutely terrified of it. Luka had more or less admitted to the world at large that he loved her after he’d gotten akumatized. There’d been genuine affection that was unfiltered, unbiased, uninfluenced by whatever the magic was that made names stay on people. He didn’t seem to mind that she was so, so into Adrien. Even if she wasn’t his soulmate, he’d love her.

S-So she’d be able to do that for Adrien! Yes, that made sense. Yes, that soulmate stuff was all kid fantasy anyway. Even if it was demonstratively real.

But if Adrien found his soulmate and it wasn’t Marinette… what was she supposed to do? Just step out of the way?

∴

It’d been a decade since Marinette and Luka first met except neither remembered that first time when they were young children, even if they’d been in the same place: the park nearby the bakery.

He’d held onto her as she broke down crying about the heartbreak and how tired she was. Luka told her he’d listen and be there and hadn’t lied about any of it. It was why she chose to sit next to him after letting her infatuation go and stepping out of the way for Kagami, watching Adrien and Kagami have their Sweetheart’s ice cream together like it was always meant to be Adrien and Kagami instead of Adrien and Marinette.

Marinette chose to sit next to Luka instead of going home.

She went to bed that night deciding that the whole names and soulmates and True Love thing was just a big huge distraction from what she really needed to focus on, which was getting through school, defeating Hawkmoth, and getting her name out there as an up and coming Fashion Designer!

It lasted all of 3 days until she finally gave into her curiosity and wrote an L in the crook of her left arm before going to bed. She really had meant to write out the rest of his name, but then her phone buzzed and there’d been an akuma alert. She sighed and rolled into action.

Her Lucky Charm gave her a guitar pick. That was a little too on-the-nose, Tikki? Ladybug zipped over to the Liberty, somehow not surprised that Luka was still up and leaning against the Liberty to overlook the Seine, looking cool and thoughtful. Actually, scratch that. He looked a little haggard and worried, and he’d been expecting to see Ladybug. Well, at least it meant she didn’t have to go in and wake him up.

“… you must return the Miraculous after…” Ladybug trailed off, noticing as Luka reached out to take the bracelet that he hadn’t been wearing any of the normal… accessories he chose to wear most of the time, most notably the leather cuff he usually had on. Something bothered her and she caught his hand before he touched the bracelet. She turned his right hand over and looked at the pen mark on his wrist. “Is that an M or an E?”

Luka pulled back his hand immediately, embarrassed. “An… M,” he said reluctantly.

Then Ladybug remembered it’d been incredibly rude of her to ask. “Oh, I’m so sorry I-I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It's… been 10 years since I got that, I don’t even remember much about it,” he shrugged.

Ladybug smiled, biting back a sudden urge to scream, and offered Luka the snake Miraculous again. “If you agree… I’d like your help, Luka.”

Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Viperion were able to save the night and have everyone able to go to bed on time. She picked the Miraculous back up from Viperion, who seemed to be confused the akuma victim wasn’t who he’d expected it to be. “Anything wrong, Luka?”

“No… no, I’m glad I was able to help. I’m okay,” he said, clearly still a bit frazzled. Ladybug furrowed her eyebrows at him and he eventually sighed. “I guess I’m worried about a… friend. She’d been going through a lot so I’d been… I’d been waiting to see if she’d either call me or… or God, I don’t know,” he laughed, a little bit in disbelief. “I almost thought she’d been akumatized tonight. I’m so glad it wasn’t her. But it kinda makes me feel like crap for even thinking that.”

“It’s kind to be worried about your friend. W-Which friend by the way?” Ladybug asked. “I could pay her a visit if you’d like?”

“I don’t know if she’d appreciate that, actually,” he sighed. “She can kill me later if she wants, but yeah it’d be great if you’d check up on her. It’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Instead of being worried that Luka was worried over her, she asked “Is she your M?” Ladybug got blindsided by her own question, but she only felt the impact and implication after she asked it. “Oh no, no, I’m so sorry I’ve been so rude.”

He blew out a breath. “I wish,” he mumbled. “I don’t know,” he said, his tiredness making him slightly more obvious about being miserable. “I guess I could know for sure by writing out her name.” That was said like he had been convinced it’d disappear…

“I’m pretty good at writing out names. If you want I could write… the rest of her name out on your arm?” Ladybug offered impulsively.

“… Sure,” he agreed. He watched her as she grabbed a nearby marker and wrote out Marinette on his arm. “Wow, that… looks pretty dead on to her signature.”

“Pfft,” Ladybug laughed. “That’d be the worst identity reveal ever. Marinette’s signed a few things for me too, I’ll have you know.”

“You might have a future in crime with your forging skills if you ever decide to stop being a hero,” Luka chuckled.

“I’ll stick to saving Paris, don’t worry,” Ladybug giggled. “You do have to write over it yourself if you want it to stay. I mean… if she is… you know…”

Luka nodded. “I know. Probably a long shot. Thanks,” he said.

“I’ll check up on her. Thank you for caring, Luka,” Ladybug smiled. “And you know, I’ve got a good feeling about this one,” she said quietly, biting her lip while tapping his arm. “I’ll be off. Have a good night, 'Bug out!”

Ladybug landed in her bed and detransformed. Tikki floated back to her little nesting spot while the kwami watched Marinette pull out her phone.

hey luka just got a visit from LB! thanks for thinking of me

Marinette looked down into the crook of her arm, grabbing a marker and filling out the rest of Luka’s name. She’d recognized that M on his arm.

Had it really been 10 years when she first met him? It was kind of funny that she didn’t remember until now. He hadn’t given his name back then but she remembered the disappointment the next day when her new friend didn’t show.

Had it really been a whole year of writing… the wrong name on herself?

It’d been months since Luka told her she’d been the melody in his head. Months.

And she had spent a week in heartbreak over the wrong boy.

It’d just been a few days since she decided she was going to let Adrien go. And she found her soulmate after that? How lucky was she? Marinette looked up at the sleeping Tikki and squinted suspiciously. Maybe she was Lucky™, except that she had apparently met Luka when she was 5.

Marinette stared at her phone, watching the minutes go by. She wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight.

The sun rose after an agonizingly boring time of rolling back and forth in her bed, too excited to go to sleep but too tired to do anything productive. She kept checking the name on her arm and it’d still been there all throughout the night, but now at first light… she was… scared. She closed her eyes and covered her head with her pillow, half dreading what she’d see if she looked down at her left arm where she wrote his name.

“It’ll be there,” she said to herself, feeling more certain of that than anything. The warmth of sunlight hit her left arm. She lifted the pillow off of her face but kept her eyes closed. Slowly she opened one eye.

His name was still there. “It’s you,” she whispered, feeling the tears fall from her eyes.

She launched herself out of bed, turning into a little hurricane of activity. She threw her jacket on and ran downstairs, kissing her Maman and Papa on the cheek and telling them she’d be out for a while. They’d been too surprised to see her up at the crack of dawn to complain much, just insisting that she take her phone with her and that she wear proper shoes.

She ran down to the subway entrance and guessed the nearest station where Liberty would be moored, taking the subway train there. She emerged from an entrance about 10 minutes later, ignoring the confused looks the other commuters shot her since she’d been a mess of pigtails and pajamas. She ran toward the Liberty, climbed up and leapt over the railing onto the ship when she saw that the gangplank wasn’t extended.

“Marinette!” she heard Luka’s alarmed shout. She knew he’d be up. She knew it! He ran over to her. “What the heck–” He’d been wearing a different hoodie, a long sleeved one that covered up both his arms. She frowned at him, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

“You’re up early,” she said.

“S-So are you! And you’re-you’re here? What’s wrong?” His voice had dropped from a high pitched panic to his deeper, concerned tone in the span of two words.

She took off her jacket and extended her left arm. She saw him flush but start pulling up his hoodie from the hem, taking it off and tossing it aside. He turned his right palm up to show her the name written across his forearm.

Their names had stayed. He breathed out. “Did Ladyb–” She cut him off, her hands on either side of his face to pull him down, planting a kiss on his lips. They pulled back a second after, looking at one another in surprise.

“It’s you,” she said, resting her forehead against his shoulder. To be honest she’d been embarrassed that she’d just kissed him in the disheveled state she was in, having left to see him as soon as she got out of bed, but she felt giddy and… right.

He pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her to hug her tight. “And… it’s you.”

[burnedbyshoto]

just this once

pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warning: angsty, fluff, cursing

word count: 2,670

a/n: this is for the bnharem collaboration!!!!! how exciting!!!! will I ever not be obsessed with shouto??? only god will know. but anyways, enjoy bbies :D

message to join taglist :D

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“These are for you!”

Your fingers clenched a box of chocolates too tightly, the red paper reflecting the bright February sun, and your scarf was wrapped tightly around your face. Your words a near mumble when you presented your gift of affection. 

“Like that?” You ask, your eyes shifting over to your friends who were judging your presentation. “I feel like I was a bit too stiff, what do you think?”

“You look like a goddamn little school girl,” Jirou snorted, a grin spreading on her face as the others more or less agreed. Those words immediately threw a wrench in your confidence, your bottom lip assaulted by your teeth while you watched your friends discuss their opinions.

“It’s super cute and romantic,” Mina sighed, and your shoulders picked up. Hope and confidence were flooding your veins again. “But we are eighteen years old, almost graduating, and you’ve never been able to accomplish this before.”

“Yeah, but,” you say, your arms sweeping out, your finger pointed at your friends who remained silent, all their eyebrows quirked in curiosity and amusement. You don’t continue on, your voice cutting off, your thoughts unable to form.

“But?” Momo asked a kind smile on her face, encouraging you to continue.

“I don’t know,” you laugh, although the tremor in your voice shows that it was not done out of amusement. “I mean, we’re actually good friends now, we talk, kinda? As much as you can with him being so damn busy all the time… I totally got this! Besides, I gave all the other guys gifts, so why would he think he’s different?!”

“BECAUSE HE IS DIFFERENT TO YOU!” They seemed to holler all at once, and your cheeks burned. You turned on your heel, your backs facing your friends, and your eyes lowered to the box of chocolates.

This was accomplishable. You had survived the worst villains in the world, you had survived motherfucking UA, handing your love chocolates to Todoroki Shouto would be a breeze! In and out faster than Iida. You’d scream that the chocolates were for him, shove them into his chest, and race off before he could reject you. It was a solid plan, in your opinion. 

You roll your eyes, choosing to stick out your tongue at your friends who all groaned in response. They had zero faith in you, and to be quite honest, you had no faith in yourself either. You never won in this sort of battle. Three years of being in love with someone who clearly had no romantic interest in you was truly exhaustive, why you didn’t just give up was beyond you. Just this once you wanted a win, to see that at the very least he would accept the chocolates you had spent way too long making. 

“You have about five minutes before they leave,” Uraraka’s voice broke you from your stupor, “they have rounds.”

It slammed into you then, the fear and terror of being reject burned at every cell in your body. Your eyes focused on the box of chocolates in your hands; there was a white envelope made out to Shouto with a confession of your affections should you fail at your words. There was no way you were getting out of this; it seemed. 

Your steps were heavy as you walked towards the lockers, the sweet sounds of the ending winter filled your ears, and the soft giggles of girls and boys in love made your heart pump faster than it should. You got this, you were basically a Pro Hero now, you’ve stared death in the face and walked out living. You were reliable, amazing, and so much more.

But the words you were reciting to keep your spirits high were useless, the dread was a rock in your stomach, a black hole of apprehension. There was no doubting Shouto was going to have a lot of presents, hell he had a fucking Fanclub already! The gifts all those girls could afford, the chocolates they could make were most definitely better than yours.

The box of chocolates rattled in your fingers, your distress bleeding into your form. You took one last long look at your chocolates, finally having arrived at the lockers, and you turned towards the group of six girls who merely gave you energetic encouragement.

‘You got this, y/n!” read a sign most definitely just created by Momo. 

The laughter that spluttered from your lips was shaky, but it helped ease your worry. With a nod that betrayed your nervousness, you spun on your heel and walked into the lockers, en route to Shouto’s.

You smiled at your underclassmen who greeted you, your lips opening to complement their presents, and making light talk for you had somewhere to be. And then you saw him, a tall boy with red and white hair, opening a locker that most definitely exploded with valentine cards and chocolates. You froze, hidden behind the lockers. Shouto sighed, his figure kneeling down to gather the things on the floor, and you realized this was the perfect time for you to run in and throw your gift into the pile without needing to actually talk!

“Hey, Todoroki-kun!” You whispered sharply in your panic, your heart thundering in your chest at the sight of your crush calmly picking up his gifts. 

“SHOUTO-KUN!” Another voice shouted, and you felt frozen in your path when another girl you’d never talked to before bounded out of the blue and immediately latched onto Shouto’s side. Your hands remained frozen at your chest, the box of chocolates pressed into your body.

“Hi, Suki,” Shouto answered, a small but bright smile enveloping his face. 

There you stood frozen, hidden behind lockers, the world still continues to move as you watched the two of them clean up the grams on the floor. Soft chatter being exchanged by the two of them, laughter pouring from her mouth, and chuckles from his. You needed to look away, or at the very least approach them, you knew this. You were a hero, you’ve never had issues moving before, but right now, when you needed to be your own hero, you failed to advance. 

Their conversation was not understandable to you with your heartbeat roaring in your ears, but it soon disappeared. You watched with bile rising up to your throat as the girl pressed her hands to Shouto’s cheeks, her smile beaming and bright, and Shouto’s ears turning scarlet red. Her lips connected with Shouto’s, and your world went silent.

Oh.

Undeserving tears pricked at your eyes, and Shouto’s hands pressed against her hands. But you’d seen more than enough.

The box of chocolates dropped from your hands, clattering loudly onto the floor since there was no one but the three of you there. But before the two of them could see who was there, question who was there, you were gone.

There was nothing except a box of chocolates, with a letter written for the man who held your affections.

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Dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a tank, you sat with your classmates in the shared space. Your knees were tucked under your chin, the droning sounds of the rom-com filled the room. Everyone besides Shouto, Midoriya, and Bakugou were here, and those with a significant other were sitting and enjoying this night in together.

Valentine’s Day was a joke.

Your nose scrunched at the way the girl and the guy of the movie began to passionately make out, their surroundings forgotten because their love was too strong. How indecent.

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed another handful of popcorn and ate it, your eyes filling up with tears when your mind wandered to earlier. You had no reason to cry! You weren’t fast enough, brave enough, or important enough to win Shouto’s affections. 

“Oh, they’re back,” Shouji spoke, his head turning towards the entrance of the dorm. Your heart stopped, and you sink further into the couch, praying that someone’s lover had a quirk that would let the couch eat you. The movie was promptly paused, and as soon as the three most chaotic people in the class walked in, they were swarmed.

Yelling and screaming filled the room. People were arguing about who knows what, and presents were being given to the boys from the girls. There was no saying what was happening, only that you were the only one not greeting them. You felt pathetic, there were only a few weeks left of school, and you were never going to confess, how stupid. Standing up, you shoved your hands into the pockets of your sweatpants before heading to the staircase; you didn’t want to stay here anymore. Not if you would cry at seeing Shouto.

He was happy, so you would be happy for him.

With the loud conversations taking place, and your classmate’s oblivious natures, no one noticed when you slipped into the staircase and disappeared back to your room. 

Turning on the lights, your room felt mockingly bright. There was nothing new or out of place. But the wall by your desk was filled with a bunch of photos that had stirred you to confess in the first place. Pictures of you and Shouto, the two of you smiling and talking, candid and posed photos littered the wall almost in the same amount as the pictures with the girls. 

Your fingers grabbed onto the photo booth film, the four photos that had you in the dumbest of poses with Shouto lingering gaze pressed into you, except for the last one where you had caught him staring, and it looked as if you two were lovers. But that wasn’t the case, he had promptly looked away, leaving the booth.

You were nothing but a stupid girl in love with a man who was leagues better than you.

There was a soft knock on your door, and your fingers pressed away, fallen tears from your cheeks. God, why were you so emotional. Walking quickly to the door, you expected to open it to Momo or Iida, whoever had noticed your disappearing number first. A smile graced your features, and you swung open the door.

“Sorry! I needed -- oh.”

Shouto stood outside your door, his face smudged with dirt and his right hand behind his back. Your smile tightened immediately, and you tilted your head, hoping he wouldn’t notice the difference. Why was he here? Did he care?

“You weren’t downstairs, and since I was coming up to change, they asked me to check on you,” Shouto breathed, his eyes looking down, avoiding your gaze too. 

Your shoulders deflated, and you made an agreeable noise, your head nodding.

“Yeah, um, I needed to get my socks,” you lie.

Shouto nodded too, his eyes dropping to your feet that had no socks on it.

“Okay… I’m going to change, I’ll see you back downstairs?”

You nod your head, your eyes falling to the wall behind Shouto, “Yeah! Um, see you there.”

Shouto nodded again, but he didn’t move. So there the two of you stood, staring at each other, neither one of you moving, yet the both of you knowing that you needed to move before the entire class came for you both. But you wanted to ask about the girl, about who she was, if it was serious? But would that make you feel better? Your gaze fell while you contemplated knowing this information.

With your gaze leaving him, Shouto turned to move, a small sigh escaping his mouth.

“Who is she?” You blurted, your eyes focused on him with intensity and fear. “That girl, uh, your girlfriend?”

Shouto froze, his eyes confused, and his head tilting, “My girlfriend?”

You nodded, your stomach-churning, “I saw you kissing a girl today.”

It hit him then.

“You saw that?” He asked, his eyes wide and face overcame with a blush.

Your mouth was dry, and you wanted to both throw-up and cry, but you nodded. Your heart hammered in your chest, the palms of your hands sweaty and clammy despite your pleading mind for it to stop. 

“Yeah…”

“Y/l/n, that was--”

Your hands came up, the bile in your throat returning, “You don’t need to explain it to me, she was cute! You two look cute together!”

Shouto’s eyebrows scrunched, his mouth shut as something finally unleashed within you, forming nothing but word vomit.

“I can’t say anything for it, I’m happy for you! Truly I am happy that there’s someone out there that loves you, and you love them back! I mean, I was trying to approach you at your locker, but she beat me to it, which is my fault! And I was there because I was going to confess, which again was my fault for not doing it! I just… just this once, I wanted to be important to you the way you are to me! Because I have these feelings for you, Shouto, and I don’t know what to do with them anymore. I can’t have you because you obviously like someone else, and that’s fine! I was too late, or whatever, but…” your fingers trembled, and you fisted them at your chest. Silent tears fell from your face, and you finally met his gaze. “I’ve been trying for the past two years to confess to you, and it’s shitty of me to finally be able to do it when you found someone you like, but I’m in love with you.”

Shouto’s eyes were wide, his hand that had been hidden behind his back finally pulled before you, and revealed the box of chocolates you had dropped earlier today. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, handing you the box of chocolates, and your throat tightened, the envelope was opened, obviously read. “I--”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt him, taking the chocolates back, your heart crashing into your stomach. The tears in your eyes burned your skin, and your spout of broken courage was now gone, it vanished, and you felt hollow.

“You didn’t let me finish,” Shouto groaned, his hands raking through his hair. Your eyes met his frustrated gaze, and his hand shoved your box of chocolates onto the floor again, his hands taking yours in his. “I’m not good with emotions, I know that. I’m emotional, but I don’t know… simple things. Fuyumi-nee had been helping me out for ages, but it’s been years, and I thought she needed a break. So I sought out help from Suki because… I don’t know, someone said she was good with things like this.”

Your eyes blinked, as Shouto’s thumb traced the back of your hands.

“I’d been trying to figure out how to deal with my emotions for you because they were so damn annoying! I couldn’t figure out why I wanted to know everything about you, why I needed to sit with you during lunch, why I enjoyed coming over to your room before sleeping even though I was exhausted? It just didn’t make sense to me, and I needed more… help. Suki seemed to think my problems were about her, and she kissed me today. But I don’t like her! I’ve never liked her, because shit, y/n, I’m in love with you too.”

They say love was magnetic, that it drew people in, making everyone a better them. For years you never believed it, why would you? But there was something in the air, something that made you ignore the tears pouring down your face.

Your hands left his and found a home on the collar of his shirt; Shouto’s placed his on your waist.

Despite the tears on your face, his face was drawn to yours, and his lips found yours. The two of you walked into your room, stepping on the chocolate box, and your lips familiarized with each other, greeting and pulling each other in. There was the click of the door and had you two been listening carefully, maybe you would have heard the hushed screams of your classmates.

“I love you.”

[falseroar]

Dog Days Part 22: Very Important Person

((Y/N, Chase, and Jameson visit the local TV studio in search of Wilford Warfstache, looking to find out what his connection is to Abe.

Warning: Shooting/someone shown getting shot, no gore/details.

Links to the masterlist with every part, and to Part 21: Coffee with a Dash of Honesty.))

The building that Chase parked near was completely new to you. From the street name, you guessed this area used to be that stretch of small businesses that in your memory tended to come and go before they made much of an impression, although it looked like they had all been torn down to make way for the tall building and its attached lawns and parking lots.

“Honest John Loans,” you murmured when you got out of the car, and when Chase and Jameson looked at you, you felt the need to explain, “Used to be a loan company around here, went out of business after the owner—wasn’t around anymore.”

“Yeah, I think there used to be a few stores around here before the studio bought them up,” Chase said. “That was after DE Studios got super popular, started streaming even in other countries instead of just the local broadcasts. Before that, they were running out of a little place over in between all the warehouses on the harbor.”

“You seem to know a lot about this place,” Jameson pointed out as the three of you walked toward the set of glass double doors under a set of enormous letters spelling out “D.E.S.”

“I looked up some stuff last night. Plus, I…kind of wanted to work here when I was a kid. I applied for an internship, even got it, but my parents vetoed that idea.” Chase shrugged. “Wasn’t the kind of work experience they were hoping for, not that it really mattered in the end.”

“Did you ever get to go on a tour here?” you asked as Jameson pulled open one of the doors and waved the two of you in before him, but Chase shook his head. “Then maybe we can still have some fun even if Wilford isn’t here.”

An idea shot down not even two seconds later by the man standing behind the front desk, who took one look at you all and said in a dull, lifeless tone, “No tours today.”

“What?” Chase asked, unable to hide his disappointment. He shared a look with Jameson, both thinking their plan to keep you distracted and away from home wasn’t looking too great. “But there wasn’t anything on your website about them being canceled, and the sign right there says—”

The man behind the counter flipped the tour sign so that it was lying face down and said, “We are also not filming today, so there is no need for a studio audience. If you wish to apply to be a guest on one of our shows, the application form can be found online.”

You frowned at the man, but it wasn’t because of the abruptly canceled tour. There was something strange about his voice, a faint static under his stilted words that probably only you could hear, a hum coming from his chest in place of a heartbeat that seemed to pulse in time with the lit up ‘G’ on his gray shirt. And, when you breathed in, you could smell Chase and Jameson on either side, but there wasn’t a scent coming from this man.

Or at least, not one that you would associate with a person, but the faint whiff of magic and oil made you sure that you were in the right place.

“Who are you?” you asked, stepping forward to the counter.

“I am a Google unit, designed to answer questions and perform tasks quickly and efficiently,” he answered, tilting his head to match your stare while his eyes studied you behind his black-rimmed glasses. “Currently, I am filling in for the receptionist who has taken an early lunch break.”

“Wait, unit?” Chase stared at Google for a moment and then his eyes lit up with understanding. “You’re magitek! I heard the Institute bought out a lab that was working on something special, but I never got a chance to see it. That’s so cool!”

“Yes, I was the initial prototype from that line,” Google answered. “The head of this studio was able to purchase me before the buyout.”

“That feels a little…not right,” Jameson signed, only to put his hands behind his back when Google fixed him with his unblinking stare next.

“Magitek is, well, what it sounds like, a blend of magic and technology,” Chase explained to you and Jameson. He gestured at Google as he said, “This though, it’s leaps and bounds ahead of anything else out there right now though. I mean, look at him!”

Google smirked. “Your excellent taste is both appreciated and entirely correct. The tours will resume next week, on schedule, if you would wish to make an appointment.”

Next week. It was possible he could still be here by then, but the idea of waiting that long and missing your chance didn’t sit well. Especially not when you felt so close to something for once.

“We were actually hoping to see someone who might be here,” you said. “Do you know if there’s a Wilford in the building?”

Google paused and then said, “Are you on the approved visitor list?”

“Uh,” you hesitated and looked at Jameson and Chase, who didn’t really have an answer. “If you could just tell me if he’s even here—”

“Names?” Google asked.

“…Y/N,” you said, reluctantly. “But I just—”

“Y/N,” Google repeated, with a different tone. “You are on the approved VIP list.”

“I am?”

“They are?” Chase asked, and Jameson signed.

“And your names?”

“That’s Jameson Jackson, and I—I’m Chase Brody,” Chase said slowly.

“Understood. Please wait for your visitor badges to be printed.”

Google turned away and you took a step back to be closer to the other two. Once you were sure the magitek unit wasn’t watching, you signed, “It must be a mistake. Someone else with my name.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t take advantage of it,” Chase signed back.

“But what if we get caught?” Jameson asked.

“Then we tell them there was some kind of misunderstanding.” Chase shrugged. “Worst that happens is we get a slap on the wrist for trespassing, and even then, it’s still iffy. It’s not like we lied about who we are or why we’re here.”

“This might also be our only chance to meet this Wilford guy,” you pointed out. “There’s no guarantee we would run into him on a tour, assuming he’s even still here next week.”

Jameson nervously moved his hands, as though trying to decide whether to give in or stop this here, but before he made up his mind Google spoke again in that same not quite emotionless tone.

“Your badges are ready. Please do not lose them, or you will be immediately escorted from the building. Forcefully.”

You turned around to find three badges lying on the corner, just cards printed off and slipped into plastic envelopes hanging from DE Studios branded lanyards.

“As a VIP, you are welcome to a more permanent card,” Google added. “But that would require your picture to be taken. Please stand still.”

“What?” you asked, but a bright flash came from the magitek unit before he lowered the camera and plugged it into the computer.

“Your card will be available by the time you leave,” Google said, ignoring your protest which was quickly cut off by Jameson and Chase.

“…Thanks, I guess,” you muttered, even if you didn’t like the thought of a picture of you being on that thing. Better to play along for now. “Wait, why did you just take my picture and not theirs?”

“Because you are the only one on the VIP list,” Google answered. “The other two may enter as your guests for this visit.”

Your card did seem to be a different color than the other two, or at least you guessed it was based on the different shade of gray, but it was Chase’s turn to pause when he saw the names on the cards. Specifically, the one labeled “Charles Bronson.”

“That’s…not the name I gave you,” Chase pointed out slowly.

“It is the name that is in the system,” Google said. “Attached to one internship application that was accepted and then turned down by the applicant. Do you wish to update your file?”

“Why do you still have that?” Chase asked. “Yes, I want to—I mean…”

“The process will only take…45 minutes.”

Chase sighed. “No, I guess it’s fine…”

“Give or take 3 hours, depending on length of time spent on the questionnaire—”

“It’s fine, I’ll wear the stupid badge,” Chase said, grabbing the lanyard and pulling it over his head. He tried to at least turn it so that his name faced inward, only to discover that the names were printed on both sides of the card. “…Sure, why not. Now can you tell us where this Wilford dude is?”

“Once all phones and other recording devices have been handed over. I am also required to ask you to sign our terms and agreements, which is standard for all visitors in the building.”

Chase and Jameson sighed as they pulled out their phones, but you pulled the stacks of paper Google tried to hand them out of his hand and studied it for all of two seconds before saying, “We’re not signing this.”

Google dropped the phones into a bin behind the counter, Chase wincing at the sound of his phone hitting the plastic and said, “Understood.”

“Wait, that’s it?” Chase asked. “You’re not going to make us sign it or leave?”

“I said that I was required to ask, not that I actually need any signatures.”

You stared at the magitek unit as he walked out from behind the counter and asked, “Then why bother asking? The first page alone is absurd, who in their right mind would sign this thing?”

Google smiled. “Most people don’t even question it. And no one wants to be the one to hold the tour group up because they’re actually reading it.”

You picked a paragraph at random and started to read aloud, “’Dark Entertainment Studios is not liable for any accident or the consequences of any event on its grounds or during filming, up to and including death, injury, mental or emotional trauma, existential crises’…’Contestants lacking a living will may be assumed to give DE Studios power of attorney’—”

Google’s smile was gone now. “As you have not signed, these terms do not apply to you. So, if you could please stop reading those out loud—”

“Who the hell wrote this?!”

“…Permission to answer that question has been denied,” Google answered, his eyes twitching and his head briefly jerking to the side before he recovered. “Please try again later.”

Jameson pulled you to the side and signed, “I understand you’re angry, but perhaps this is a battle for later? We’re here for Wilford, not a legal kerfuffle.”

“Fine,” you muttered, before holding up the document for Google to see, “But I’m taking this, and I will have a lot of notes for whoever’s in charge here when I come back.”

“Understood. I will make a note for a future appointment,” Google said, his gaze fixed on some distant point for a moment before it returned to normal. “Follow me. According to his schedule, Wilford Warfstache is currently in Studio 3.”

Google paused to put up a sign saying that someone would be back in 15 minutes and added under his breath, “…Not that he seems aware of what a schedule even is.”

“What exactly are we going to say to this Wilford fellow once we find him?” Jameson asked as the three of you followed Google into the short hallway behind the counter which ended at a set of elevators, one of which opened with a soft “ding” as soon as he pressed the button.

“I didn’t think we’d actually get this far,” Chase admitted once you were all in the thankfully spacious elevator, which looked big and tall enough to hold an elephant inside. He was signing again, you guessed to keep Google from listening in, but your attention was on the directory above the buttons.

There seemed to be a floor for each studio, of which there were five, and a few floors dedicated to various departments such as production, marketing, etc. Human Resources had its own floor, but the button for that one wasn’t lit up like the others, leaving you to suspect that it was broken. Then there was the top floor, which didn’t have a label or any other indication of what was there on the directory.

Before you could ask Google any questions, the elevator came to a stop with another ding, the automated voice overhead announcing that you were now at Studio 3.

“Studio 3 is generally used for our game shows,” Google said. “On our current schedule, the first half of the week is used to film Menagerie of Insanity, and then we switch over the set to film episodes of Monstrous Love for the rest of the week, or at least those portions that take place in studio.”

“Staci loves that show,” Chase said, craning his neck to look in the open door to a room full of monitors and other equipment you didn’t understand. “She was a big fan of what’s-his-name, Herla.”

“Ratings were very high during his time on the show,” Google answered, leading the way to the left and toward the set of double doors at the end of the hall.

“Yeah, shame it didn’t work out with that centaur. Are they filming more episodes of that show then?”

“Chase!” Jameson shook his finger at him.

“What? No, I didn’t mean—”

Chase’s face turned red and he stumbled over his denial, not helped when Google said, “We are currently interviewing potential candidates. If you wish to apply, please speak to the receptionist before leaving or fill out the online form.”

“What are all of these other rooms?” you asked, partially to save Chase from this conversation.

“Storage and janitorial services for this floor, the production control room, the central apparatus room, both of which are dedicated to Studio 3, and rooms for our employees that I am required to refer to as ‘talent,’” Google answered, pointing to each door in questions as you passed. “There is also a green room attached to the studio, with refreshments for our guests and contestants. Each studio floor has the same basic layout, except for Studio 5, which has an additional area for recording and voiceover work, with the master control room on its own separate floor.”

“Master control room?” Jameson asked.

“It’s basically where they choose what signal goes out,” Chase answered. “What shows up on the TV or on the online feed, like reruns or commercials.”

“Correct. We are currently on a…hiatus, from broadcasting live content at the moment.”

He had also mentioned they weren’t filming today, which might explain why the whole building felt quiet. Your ears caught the hum of motors and fans whirring in the rooms full of equipment and monitors, and the faint sound of a chair squeaking that suggested someone was in there, but if you had to guess all of these other rooms were empty of people. That is, except for the studio he was leading you toward, whose doors appeared to be soundproofed because even you could just barely make out the sound of voices as the four of you approached.

As soon as Google opened the door though, a crowd of people began to cheer and clap their hands. Or at least, that’s what it sounded like, but the room was almost empty. Past a row of dark cameras pointed toward the set, where a semicircle of row upon row of empty seats looked down on a large spinning wheel that was clattering to a stop next to three occupied podiums.

And, in the center of it all, stood a man holding a microphone who was almost dwarfed by the large creature sitting next to him, which looked like a massive lion with a set of black wings that matched the hair on his human head, or at least one that was large enough to suit his body. Said sphinx was also holding a (much larger) microphone in one paw, and for some reason appeared to be wearing a shirt and jacket on the front half of his body with a tie that dangled down from his neck.

“Excellent spin!” The man standing next to the sphinx spoke in a loud, booming voice that carried through the room, and you felt like you had just had all of the breath knocked out of your chest. “Tell me Bim, what did our lucky contestant land on?”

The sphinx grinned and said, “Looks like Billy won a very special bonus: ‘Take a shot!’”

“Well, if you say so,” the man said, pulling out a gun from behind his back where it had apparently been tucked into his waistband before pointing it at the first contestant.

“Wilford, wai—” The sphinx reached out a huge paw only to sigh when the man fired off three rounds in quick succession, each blast an assault on your hearing even when you pressed your hands against your ears. The contestants shrieked and Chase shouted next to you as the shot contestant collapsed, but the sphinx just rolled his eyes and said, “Oh, don’t be such a drama king, Billy. We told you from the start we remembered to put wax bullets in Wilford’s gun this time.”

“They still hurt! Why couldn’t we have just used blanks?” came the groaned response from behind the podium as the contestant slowly dragged himself back up onto his feet. A splatter of colored wax marked his chest, but he was clearly…maybe not okay, but mostly uninjured, at least. A chorus of laughter came from speakers set up around the room, and he glared at one of the other contestants who had a board full of switches in hand and a guilty expression.

“What’s wrong with seeing how my aim is holding up?” the shooter asked, still waving his gun around to emphasize his words. “Besides, you told me to take another shot!”

“We’ve been over this, not everything is literal. More importantly, the game isn’t fun if you kill off the contestants for no reason,” the sphinx explained. “It’s like…you know music, right? That used to be your thing. A game show’s like that, there’s a rhythm, a pattern to it, and you shooting one of the contestants out of nowhere is like someone pulling the plug and cutting the song off early. Get it?”

“…Not even a little bit, no.”

“You know, maybe we should just go ahead and take a break. I’m starting to think your…talents might be better suited for somewhere else.” The sphinx looked at the “contestants” and said, “You can get back to whatever you were doing, just don’t forget my lunch!”

The last words were shouted after them, as the three sprinted out of the room as fast as they could, bumping into you and the others in their way.

The sphinx rolled his eyes again and muttered, “Interns. Probably should have kept one of them behind, I’m feeling a little—oh, hello! And who might you all be?”

His eyes lit up at the sight of your group and he gave a smile that might have been friendly, if it hadn’t shown off a lot of teeth that looked more at home in a lion’s mouth.

“These are guests,” Google answered. “Here to see Wilford Warfstache.”

“Hm?” the man holding the gun looked up and gave you all a smile that held no kind of recognition.

Even though you knew exactly who he was. Even without the uniform and helmet, even after all this time, you knew the Colonel’s voice, his mannerisms, the gun in his hand. The same gun, that he had carelessly fired at that intern like it was nothing.

Suddenly you knew exactly why Abe had been looking for him, understood the hunter’s strange behavior at the disco, his anger and despair. All this time, spent looking for the man that nearly killed him, who up until the night before last you thought had killed Abe.

All that time in the mirror, all that anger and rage of your own, and you had never thought about what you would do if you found yourself here, face to face with the Colonel again.

If you had imagined this moment, you don’t think it would have included the way he looked at you now, with a clueless smile like you were as much a stranger to him as Chase or Jameson. Or the other detail that your mind latched onto, until the sphinx moved in between you and the Colonel.

“Hello, my name is Bim Trimmer. Host of Menagerie of Insanity, or you might remember me from other hit shows that I’ve done.”

“Of course, who doesn’t know you?” Chase said, his voice higher and cracking slightly as he stepped in front of Jameson and tugged on your sleeve as though to encourage you to take a step back. “We, uh, didn’t expect to see you here today, or we would have, uh…”

“Brought something to sign?” Jameson suggested.

“Yeah, autographs,” Chase muttered. Clearing his throat, he continued, “But yeah, didn’t mean to interrupt, we can just—”

“Not at all, a distraction sounds lovely right now. Besides, we can’t be rude to guests.” Bim gestured toward your nametag, but you swore he sniffed before his pupils widened into two black discs. “Very special guests. How do you know our Wilford?”

You hesitated, aware that Jameson and Chase were waiting on you to answer, but your mind was still a blank, and your voice caught in your throat with nothing to say.

“Why, fans from the club, I’m sure,” the Colonel, or you guessed you should call him Wilford now, answered. He beamed as he stepped forward to Jameson and said, “I’ve seen you hit up the dance floor, I know!”

“I think you might be mistaken, sir,” Jameson signed, and Wilford laughed as though he had just said the most hilarious thing that he had heard all week.

“It’s actually through someone we know,” Chase said, now that it was becoming clear that you weren’t about to say anything. “Wilford, do you know an Abe Lincoln?”

“The car salesman?” Wilford asked.

“Uh—no, he’s a…he’s a hunter,” Chase said, trying very hard not to look at Bim when he said it. “Do you know why he might be looking for you?”

Wilford rubbed his chin, thinking for a moment. “I don’t owe him money, do I?”

Chase didn’t really know how to answer that, but while Wilford threw out a few more equally unlikely suggestions, you became aware of someone else talking in the studio, speaking low and fast.

“Here we see the automaton has brought three new victims into the clutches of the monster. See the way his tail is thrashing? That suggests a hunting state of mind, a predator considering the problem of his prey, and at any second he’s liable to pounce on our unsuspecting—”

You realized the voice was coming from somewhere under the rows of seating, but you were distracted by Bim lowering his head until you were eye-level and saying, “I would love to have you on the show sometime. I feel like you would be fantastic for the new season we’re lining up. Of course, we’ll have to do something about your wardrobe. Those rags you’re wearing just scream secondhand comfort wear, and aren’t doing you any favors.”

“And wearing those rags?”

The memory of the butler’s comment felt like it came out of nowhere, clashing with the Colonel’s presence, and you realized too late that it was happening again. Your unwanted awareness of too much going on at once: the running commentary going on in the distance, Bim’s overwhelming presence, the scent of the sphinx battling it out with whatever cologne Wilford seemed to have doused himself with, Wilford’s still talking away to an increasingly confused Chase and Jameson, just…Wilford in general, here with no warning, no chance to prepare yourself.

“I—no, I don’t think I could handle…all that,” you said, gesturing toward the set behind him. You tried to find something, anything to focus on, but doing that and holding a conversation at the same time was just too much. After a long second, you remembered to add, “Thank you for the offer, though.”

“Hm? Oh, not for this,” Bim said, waving a paw in the direction of the game show setup. “I mean for Monstrous Love. We like to keep things fresh, make interesting matches happen that wouldn’t otherwise, and I don’t think we’ve ever had a were—”

“Sorry, who is that?” you asked, pointing toward the seating in a deliberate attempt to distract the sphinx before he blurted out what you think he was about to, and maybe just a little to get him to stop talking at you. Your head was already spinning without the self-conscious realization that he knew, how did he know? Could he smell that you were a werewolf? Or had you said or done something to give yourself away already?

Bim looked in the direction you pointed, his head tilting before he sat back with a sigh. “Come on out, you fools. We know you’re over there.”

“We’ve been spotted, Jim! Quick, feign ignorance, we’ll go with Plan B,” stage whispered the voice under the seating, before two men climbed out. They both looked identical, even wearing the same white shirt and light gray pants, but one was holding a camera pointed at the group of you while the other had a microphone similar to the one Wilford was still holding in the hand not gripping his gun. “Hi there, I’m Jim, and this is Jim, and we’re here with Jim News.”

“Slow news day?” Bim asked, with a knowing look.

“The Jims are not scheduled to be in Studio 3 at this time,” Google announced. “Perhaps an escort back to their assigned floor is in order? Again?”

“Just working on a new potential segment,” Jim said. “Learning more about the people who come and go here at the studio. A behind the scenes kind of look, if you will.”

“Has anyone signed off on this segment?” Google asked, in a tone that suggested he already knew the answer and was just itching for an excuse to tell them.

“Uh…” Jim looked at Jim, who shrugged. “We were hoping to get some raw footage to start with, you know, something to show with our idea?”

“Unauthorized filming is strictly prohibited,” Google said. His eyes seemed to take on a strange gleam as he continued, “This activity will be reported and considered by the appropriate departments. Until then, hand over your camera for proper disposal.”

Jim whimpered, holding his camera close to his chest and Bim cleared his throat.

“It’s still studio property, Google. Pretty sure you can’t do that.”

Google frowned before settling on, “Then allow me to access the recording and wipe it.”

“Or, we could let one of the producers look at it first and decide whether they want to keep it?” Jim suggested, stepping in between his brother and the magitek unit. “Isn’t there something about management having final say in all, uh…projects?”

Google sighed, something he absolutely didn’t need to do considering he didn’t even breathe, and the glow faded from his eyes. “You people never let me have any fun.”

“Can you have fun?” Jim asked, his microphone suddenly pointed in Google’s direction. “Do you experience any emotions? Say, of the homicidal rage kind or desire for vengeance against your human oppressors?”

“My programming specifically allows me to disregard stupid questions,” Google answered. “For now, no more filming without clearance or I will take it upon myself to act accordingly.”

Jim sighed and motioned to his brother, who turned off his camera and protectively tucked it under his arm. “Fine. But we still need content of some kind, after the Institute cancelled on us again.”

His brother tapped him on the shoulder and whispered in his ear, causing you to wince at even the small sound. Had the studio lights always been this bright?

“Now there’s an idea, Jim! What about an interview for our podcast? No filming involved!” Jim looked around the room and said, “Any volunteers?”

“You’ll have to talk to my agent first,” Bim said, studying his claws.

Jim glanced at Google, whose scowl told him to keep looking, and Wilford, who was casually cleaning his gun with the bottom of his shirt, and decided to keep going before settling on your group. “What about you three? You look like the kind of people to have a story to share.”

You took a quick step back when Jim stepped forward, panicking as you said, “No, I—I’m nobody, we’re just—”

“Balderdash!” His booming voice combined with the weight of Wilford’s arm around your shoulders nearly knocked you off your feet, never mind the way your heart stopped when you braced yourself for what he would say next, only for Wilford to continue, “Nobody’s nobody. Look at your nifty little badge, says right there, VIP Y/N.”

You hissed slightly, trying to force your brain to behave as you said, “Either way, I don’t…”

“You okay, Y/N?” Chase asked, Jameson right there with him. You noticed that Chase was keeping a hand over his badge to hide his own name, that Jameson was signing something, his hands moving too fast and slow at the same time, that too many people were looking at you—

“I just…need a minute to sit down,” you muttered. Dimly, you were aware of someone showing you to a nearby folding chair, letters on the back of it jumbled together but maybe a name or something. You breathed out, and back in, forcing yourself to tune out Jim and Jim persisting in asking Chase and Jameson what they did, Bim and Google discussing plans of their own, everything until you could find just one thing to focus on like the Host said.

You opened your eyes to find Wilford, sitting in a similar chair to your own in front of you and leaning so far forward that he practically filled your vision.

“Glitz of showbusiness getting to your head a little?” he asked, his voice thankfully not quite as loud this time.

“…Something like that,” you muttered, eyes searching his face for any sign of recognition, anything, until they latched on something you had noticed before, something you couldn’t help but focus on until you found yourself saying, “Pink.”

“Hm?” Wilford reached up and brushed his mustache before smiling. “Do you like it? I had an afro, same color, but apparently it wasn’t the right ‘look’ for this place. I wonder where I put that...”

It was the first color you had seen since regaining your eyesight, the fluorescent pink of his mustache absurdly bright in the otherwise gray-scale world around you. Once you saw it, it was almost impossible to look away from until you realized that he was watching you, the expression in his eyes familiar enough that, for just a moment…

“Wilford, Google and I have been talking, and we think this could be the perfect opportunity to get—I mean, see if you’re a little more…suited for your own kind of segment, a talk show with your own spin on it. I’m sure the Jims would be happy to take you off my paws, er, only to show you how they go about it sometime. Maybe once the Jims are done with their interview with the boys over there, they can give you some ideas on how to do your own thing?” Bim asked, and you looked up to see him and Google standing nearby.

“Hm?” Wilford looked around as well, as though just now realizing who Bim was talking to, and said, “Sure, sure. It’s what I said from the start, I do have a way of getting people to open up.”

“Preferably without knives,” Bim muttered, but behind him Jim called, “No promises!”

“I will take the idea to Kathryn and see what she has to say about it,” Google added.

“I don’t suppose you could leave out the part where I shot one of the interns?” Wilford asked hopefully.

“No,” Google said without a trace of hesitation, causing Wilford to deflate a little. “This should not take long. Please commit only the minimal amount of mayhem in my absence.”

This last comment seemed to be directed at Wilford in particular, who beamed at him and said, “No worries, Googs, I’ll keep a close eye on Y/N here. They do look like the troublemaking type, don’t they?”

Google frowned but chose not to continue this conversation, instead turning and walking out of the studio. Bim, however, moved closer to your chair and smiled as he said, “Do keep an open mind about the show, okay? Here’s my card…”

He reached toward the strangely fitted suit he wore, only for his paw to fail to find the breast pocket. After a few attempts, he looked at you and you reluctantly let him get close enough for you to reach into the pocket and pull out a business card with his name and number on it that probably would have been impossible for him to handle on his own with those claws. This close, you definitely heard the sphinx sniff again, as well as the way he swallowed before he said, “Right. Just…anytime, uh, Y/N. If you all will excuse me.”

He stood and walked through the double doors, whose size alongside the large hallways and spacious elevator now made a little more sense, even if he still had to duck his head to keep from hitting the top of the doorframe.

“He has good taste, that fellow,” Wilford said, with a smile that left you second-guessing his words. “Are you even looking for a special someone, Y/N?”

“I’m…looking for someone,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “But I’m not interested in going on some dating show.”

“Ah! Still, you should keep the card, just in case,” Wilford said with a wink. “Never know when you’ll change your mind, eh?”

“Never know what Marvin would do if he found out I let you get on some monster matchmaker show, either,” Chase said as he walked up. “Feeling any better, Y/N?”

“A little,” you answered, but judging by his expression, he knew that was a lie.

“Could you…?” Chase asked Wilford, who stared at him for a moment before he realized what his gesture meant.

“Right, I’ll just give you two a minute,” Wilford said, leaping up from his chair and walking a short distance away, where he started whistling.

Chase shook his head before crouching down next to you, keeping his voice low as he said, “We don’t have to stay here, Y/N. If this is too much, we can just go. I’m not even sure if this Wilford guy knows anything about Abe anyways.”

“He does,” you said, sounding a little too forceful before your confidence washed away. “At least he should, but it’s like…”

“Like nothing’s going on upstairs?” Chase asked, glancing at Wilford. He studied him for a moment before saying, “Jim wants to interview me and Jameson, get our perspectives on entertainment from ‘nontraditional points of view.’”

“I’m sure Jameson has a lot to say about that,” you said, and Chase grinned.

“Believe it. Point is, we can keep them distracted and give you a chance to talk to Wilford on your own, if you think you can get something out of him. Or, we can leave right now and call this a dead end.”

“…I might know something I can try,” you said softly. You knew you should tell Chase who he was, but you also knew that there would be no arguing when he and Jameson insisted on getting you out of this building, now, once they knew. Maybe that was the right thing to do, but you had so many questions, starting with why Wilford was pretending not to recognize you. How did he even end up here, of all places?

“Okay,” Chase said, placing a hand on top of your own as he added, “We’ll be in the recording studio on the Studio 5 level, so don’t hesitate to come and get us if you don’t feel comfortable or just want to get out of here. And please, just…stay away from Bim Trimmer. Like, really far away. There’s rumors and maybe it’s just anti-monster stuff, but I don’t like the way he was looking at you.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not about to become the next star of Monster Love. And you and Jameson be careful what you say in front of those guys, too,” you said, indicating Jim and Jim with a tilt of your head.

“Monstrous Love, and yeah, we will.” Chase sighed, and you could tell he was second-guessing whether this was a good idea or not, even as he said, “Good luck, Y/N.”

“See you soon,” Jameson signed behind him, before the Jim twins ushered him and Chase out the door.

Leaving you alone with the man who shot and, technically, killed you all those years ago.

((End of Part 22. Thanks as always for reading! Just a couple of notes here that I couldn’t put up top for spoiler reasons.

Things I learned for this part: just enough terms to make it sound like Google knew what he was talking about when he was showing them around, and that wax bullets are a thing that illusionists used to use for tricks involving guns. They can also hurt people, so maybe letting Wilford keep the gun is still a bad idea. Also, in case it wasn’t clear, this Google isn’t wearing a gray shirt, it’s just what Y/N can/can’t see color wise.

Link to Part 23: Almost Too Easy.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox @hidinginmybochard ))

[misterewrites]

The Heart of Civilization (Welcome to the Underground!)

Summary: Abigail's first experience of the Underground's capital is nothing like anything she's dealt with before but luckily she's got two guides. While the group decides how to handle their current arrangement, Oliver comes up with a surprising solution.

Hello everyone! It's done! I'm no longer behind schedule! E HERE WITH THE NEXT CHAPTER OF THE UNDERGROUND! WOO! Sorry it's been a chaotic, long few weeks. But I hope you are all doing good. So here we go the first major arc of the underground. Enjoy! I hope you are all safe, washing your hands, wearing your masks, get the vaccine if you can and keep each other safe! Comment, reblog, tell your friends. All that is super helpful for me and I love feedback. That's it for me, have a great week! E is out! Gonna nap!

Read this chapter or the whole thing if you’re curious with the link found below

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/77710460

Cities were never silent. It was impossible to be given how much life was concentrated in a single location. Even smaller towns and villages in the middle of nowhere were always bursting with the sounds of the living: Cheery drunks, clanking armor of the city guard patrolling, the odd night owls who could never find rest under a starry sky. The life and soul of any place were the people.

So naturally Abigail was taken aback by the immense silence.

She knew there was sound given how sudden she was buffeted backwards by a wave of unseen force. Archie and Oliver felt it too given how their bodies jerked but unlike her, they had been expecting it.

There was a strange disconnect between Abigail’s senses and her brain as it tried to piece together what exactly was going on. She was actually starting to get a headache as her mind tried to make sense of conflicting information.

Her eyes watered and burned at the soft light that emitted throughout. It wasn’t as warm or bright as sunlight but it was close enough to make Abigail feel stuffy in her thick riding cloak. Oliver took off his cloak and began helping Archie out of his so Abigail followed suit, putting it away carefully in her backpack.

She asked how was there light down here but her words were muted and felt strange leaving her mouth like she was simply mouthing her question to herself.

It should’ve been noisy given that there were dozens of people on the stony street: children of various races running about playing different games among themselves, adults huddled together their faces serious with concern or relaxed at ease yet all were muted with a quiet that was inescapable.

Abigail knew this must’ve been the outskirts of the city given the conditions of the clothing and houses here. The only thing the homes shared was a ramshackle look to their construction and a strange mark written in their surface: Some were made of stone, others wood with a rare building made of metal. Short squat homes built deeper into the ground that were clearly dwarf design clashed horribly with the tall, gravity defying stacked one room story floors that were elvish hobbles.

Abigail pursed her lips, unsure what to make of this whole situation when Oliver’s voice appeared from nowhere, distant and echoing like he was speaking from the other end of a tunnel.

“You okay?”

Abigail jumped, flailing about wildly at the noise that cut through the quiet.

“Don’t do that!” Abigail shouted, annoyed, but nothing came out.

Oliver chuckled to himself soundlessly as he gestured to her with two pointed fingers.

“Haven’s Nest is the biggest city in all the Underground.” His voice crackled “You noticed it in the tunnels, no? How far sounds can travel in a confined space? Imagine trying to live in an entire city like that. You’d lose your hearing within a day. Well less given how much you like talking to people.”

Realization dawned on Abigail as she pointed to the strange items nestled in her ears.

Oliver nodded, his fingers still outstretched “Magical filters. They protect your ears from being overwhelmed by the noise or annoying conversations.”

Abigail thought for a moment before pointing two fingers towards Oliver.

“Is that why…?” she flinched at sudden reemergence of her voice “Wow that’s really off putting. Is that why they just hand them out at the entrance?”

“Mhm. Bad for tourism if you went deaf visiting the capital. Haven’s Nest: come to lose your money, leaving with 50% less hearing.”

Abigail stifled a laugh “So if I point like this?” she gestured with the two fingers “I can talk to people one on one. What if I want to talk to a bunch of people?”

“Make a fist. It’ll let you talk to and hear everything in the immediate area.”

Abigail looked at her hand before closing it into a fist. She winced as the city life popped back into existence without warning: The children shouting and cheering at their losses and victories, small talk about work and how members of the community were doing, unhappy grumbles about the price of food these days and the lack of respect the youth held for their elders.

The city was alive once more.

“Do we have to wear these the whole time?” Abigail asked, opting to keep her fist closed for simplicity's sake.

Archibald shook his head tiredly as he pointed to the strange symbol that were scrawled on every building’s surface.

“Sound bubbles.” Oliver explained “The magical symbols create a little pocket barrier around each building so you can only hear what’s happening inside. It be pretty infuriating if you need to sleep with the filters on. They don’t exactly stick in your ears perfectly.”

Archibald agreed.

“Oh okay. And the…”

“Lights?” Oliver cut in with a knowing smirk “Dwarfish design. A lot of important business happens in Haven’s Nest so a day night cycle is helpful. Harsher light for the day and softer glows for your shady night business.”

“Your shady night business” Abigail glared at Oliver before glancing upwards. Now that the bard pointed it out, she could see what he meant: Hundreds of smooth glass panels were packed tightly together on the ceiling of the cavern. Many of them gleamed with the warm light that bothered her when she first came in but she also noticed some were blackened, either powered down or broken from constant use.

“I take it this is the only place in the underground that has this level of dwarfish engineering.”

“Only non-dwarf city. Dwarves are a little hoardy with their tech.”

Abigail nodded “So this is the boonies, right?”

Oliver gave a mocking look of pride “Look at you knowing your terms. Yeah, this is the less fortune part of town. Still pretty nice all things considered. Up ahead is the Merchant Ward. Well ward is a misnomer but it’s the closest word I can come up with.”

“Looks like someone needs to up their vocab.” Abigail teased.

Archibald chuckled softly.

“And you.” Oliver gestured to the archer “What’s the plan now?”

Archibald eyes shone with understanding. He motioned for Abigail to help and handed her his pack as he began to search for something within. It took a minute but soon Archibald produced a crumpled up envelope. He handed it to Oliver while gratefully smiling at Abigail.

Abigail smiled back as Oliver tore the envelope and read the letter.

“Dear Greenfield and Bard, tis I! Borrick Copperstone. As you now no doubt have discovered, my boy Archie isn’t the most talkative person.”

Oliver spared Archibald a playful look “No kidding.”

Archibald waved Oliver’s comment off.

Oliver cleared his throat, his voice becoming booming and cheery as if mimicking the old dwarf “So I have written this letter with the following instructions. Archibald will be taking the 5 gold payment and I expect you to buy him a fine meal! As promised. In addition, Archibald has been given instructions to wait at the Right Hook inn in the Merchant Ward. Feel free to drop him off or you may part ways once in the city proper. Thank for your business and I wish you safe travels!”

Archibald reached to take the letter back but Oliver slapped his hand away with the paper.

“No.”

Archibald tilted his head quizzically.

Oliver narrowed his eyes “I don’t want you crying to your boss that you got injured on the job and we just dropped you first chance we got. We’re taking you to the Right Hook and we’re gonna keep an eye on you until we are sure you’re better. Right Abigail?”

Abigail was caught off guard by the sudden shift to her but she noticed the knowing glint in Oliver’s eyes “Right. Right! It’s only fair given you risked your life for us. I mean I still need to figure out what I’m going to do next and Oliver’s competition is in a few days so we don’t really have a reason to split up just yet.”

Archibald flushed a lovely bright pink.

“So it’s settled!” Oliver beamed “We’re taking to you Right Hook, get you rested, Abigail will buy you that meal she promised Borrick.”

“Hey!”

“You were negotiating” Oliver pointed out “You made the deal now you have to honor it.”

“I hate you.”

“And” Oliver went on without acknowledging Abigail further “We’ll get you to a cleric tomorrow, maybe do Abigail’s side quest and I still need to sign up for the competition.”

“My side quest?” Abigail’s face scrunched up thoughtfully “Oh! Cecilia’s wizard mentor person. That guy. Wait, how did you…?”

“So we take it easy today then we’ll go out tomorrow. Sorry solider boy you’re stuck with us a little longer.”

Archibald’s face was one of sheepish embarrassment but he smiled appreciatively all the same.

Abigail pursed her lips “Why don’t we do it today? It’s only afternoon if I’m reading the dwarfish sunshine right.”

“We almost died.” Oliver spoke plainly, shooting at glare at some people’s gaze who began to wander their way “I don’t know about you but I don’t wanna deal with anything else except a good meal and being alive.”

Abigail thought about for a moment. She could feel the tension in her body, her arms and legs were stiff. She was okay for now but the idea of doing more things today left her feeling drained.

“Yeah good point. We should take it easy for now. I’m not used to life or death situations.”

“I noticed.” Oliver turned to lead the group “Though it’s not like they get any easier.”

“What?”

“To The Right Hook!”

-----

At first traveling was relatively easy: The outskirts of town held only one path and it was simple to get her bearings situated. However the trouble started when they reached the Merchant Ward of the city.

Without warning the mismatched, battered homes became sleek, colorful uniformed buildings. Traditional human designs of varying heights and hues littered as far as the eye could see, each with the same symbol Oliver had pointed out. While the ceiling was narrow above the outskirts, here the cavern opened impossibly wide. Countless dwarfish panels of light were held high above in differentiating states of decay, blazing nearly as bright as the sun. The road became less stony and move cobbled as the paths branched out in every direction. People of various lifestyles hustled back and forth as the sounds of the city washed over her. Even the little Abigail could hear reminded her of the capitol on the surface, the sheer chaos that existed in larger, more populated places.

Oliver seemed to know where he was going. He would look at these towering signs with names written upon them. Street signs he called them. Abigail never heard of such a thing before but she was grateful for their existence.

As the trio traveled deeper into the Merchant Ward, Oliver began pointing out the various sections of the city.

“Over there.” Oliver pointed to a far off road that curved upwards through a tunnel “is the Clifftop Distract. Rich people turf. Anyone of value or wealth are squirreled away up there.”

“Of course.” Abigail murmured softly to herself. Somethings never changed.

“To the east past the Merchant Ward is East Haven. More homes less business but there are few inns, pubs, stores out there for all your shopping convenience.”

“Like a little village?” Abigail questioned, trying to see if she could equate it to something she knew.

Oliver paused for a moment “Actually yeah. Like a little village next door. Better off than the boonies but not as fancy as Clifftop. Middle of the road as it were. As you can tell, Merch Ward is a little chaotic. Not many people like the idea of living here.”

Abigail raised an eyebrow at a fist fight between a gnome and a dwarf “Couldn’t guess why. And past East Haven?”

“The east gate out of town. Haven’s Nest only has three gates: West in the outskirts, south for the Merchant Ward and East. The west and east are for public use but the south gate is only used for deliveries, soldiers, supplies, patrols etc etc etc.”

“How much further to the Right Hook?”

“Should be round here somewhere, right Archie?”

Archibald nodded in confirmation before pointing a nearby building.

The Right Hook was a wooden building painted a dark red and five stories tall. While the wood outside seemed aged and faded, the doors and window were new as if they had just been replaced. The sign that hung over the doorway was in a fancy font and showed an outstretched hand in the middle of a punch. The hand, ironically, was the left.

“I like it!” Abigail beamed cheerfully “It’s got character.”

“I believe that’s what we call a mistake.”

“It’s charming.”

“It’s wrong.”

“You’re wrong!”

Archibald softly laughed to himself as he followed the arguing pair inside.

The trio took off their filters, carefully placing them away in their pockets for later use. Abigail could feel her ears pop: Every laugh, word, noise was crisp. She could hear the sounds of all within the building but the chaotic symphony of the city remained outside.

“Now what?” she asked, rubbing her aching ears.

“Order some food. I’ll check us in.” Oliver offered “No doubt Borrick probably paid a room for Archie.”

Before Abigail could fathom what Oliver had just said, the bard disappeared deeper within the building.

“Always fun with Ollie huh?”

Archibald snickered then winced as he held his stomach.

“Sorry” Abigail smiled softly “Must be sore. Let’s find a table.”

Archibald and Abigail scanned the room and quickly spotted one nearby. The pair made their way over when Archibald pulled out the chair and gestured for Abigail to take a seat.

Abigail giggled while she sat down “Thank you good sir! I’m glad someone is a gentleman here.”

Archibald flushed as he pushed her chair in and took his own across from her.

-----

Food and drinks were ordered and brought out by the time Oliver returned, a quiet thankful look in his eyes as he noticed the third plate of meat and vegetables steaming in front of an empty seat.

“Thanks” He muttered quietly, sitting at the table.

“You okay?” Abigail watched him carefully “You look like you’re experiencing emotions.”

“I know I hate it.” Oliver gave a cocky smirk and returned to his usual self “Borrick paid for a full week for our good friend Archie so he’s cover.”

“But…” Abigail chimed in “I’m hearing a but.”

“You’re going to have to room with him.”

It wasn’t obvious who was more surprised by this information: Abigail or Archibald. Abigail’s eyes went wide and she could feel a blush spread across her cheeks while Archie simply choked on his drink and began coughing his lungs out.

“WHAT?!” Abigail and Archibald caught each other’s eyes “I...I-I don’t….I mean I don’t mind but…”

Archibald kept choking.

“Relax, it’s not as bad as you think.” Oliver began with a lazy wave of his hand “It’s...well big. On the 5th floor. It’s like a mini home I guess. It’s one room with two separate bedrooms inside. I think. It was a little confusing but I’m betting it’s for whoever is coming to pick him up. You know, to get a day’s of rest before they have to travel back.”

Abigail opened her mouth to protest but Oliver kept going “They only had one other room: A little broom closet on the second floor so be grateful I didn’t shove you in there and decide to bunk with my best friend Archie.”

Archie shot a glare as he finally cleared his throat.

Oliver grinned playfully “It��s only for a day or two until other rooms open up and we can all get our own separate, real rooms.”

“Well.” Abigail twiddled her thumbs “If it’s only for a few days…”

Archibald said nothing, opting to drink his water and hoping no one noticed the red in his cheeks.

“Well then it’s settled!” Oliver said with a hint of finality as he began digging into his meal.

-----

Despite the less than ideal sleeping arrangements, the trio managed to relax: Food, drinks, chatting idly about little things.

Night came quickly and true to Oliver’s warning, Abigail could feel exhaustion ebb into her bones.

The trio made their way to rest and as they dropped off Oliver to his little tiny room, they couldn’t help but ask.

“You sure?” Abigail eyed the broom closet distastefully “You could always sleep in our room. With Archibald.”

Archibald pointed to the floor jokingly.

Oliver gave tired chuckle “I’m good. I’ve slept worse places. Besides I need a break from all….this”

He motioned to the both of them. Abigail was unsure what he meant by that. Archibald simply shot daggers at him.

“Go” he shooed them away “Go and let me get some rest before I gotta deal with both of you in the morning.”

“Okay…..night Oliver.”

Archibald waved goodbye and the pair vanished up the stairs.

Oliver slipped into his room, a small place with a bed on one side and some walking space on the other. A window as wide as the room itself hung on the other end.

A tiny broom closet indeed.

Oliver locked the door behind him and placed his bag onto the floor. He took a moment to hide his lute and the more valuable possession he had, both monetary and sentimental. He cracked his fingers and neck before opening the letter the innkeeper slipped him. Oliver mentally mapped out the location scrawled on the paper then ripped it to shreds.

Oliver brushed clean his outfit from the day’s grime and made his way over to the window. The dwarfish panels shifted to night mode: the warm bright light of the day replaced with a cool, silvery glow that darkened the underground. He pulled out the magic filters from his pocket and put them on. He lifted the window and was grateful the barrier kept the sound outside from coming in.

“Thank god it’s the second floor” he murmured to himself as he began to climb out.

-----

4 hooded figures were huddled in the darkness of an alley, deeply engrossed in their conversation.

The tallest, a muscular woman, fidgeted unhappily “We been waiting for 30 minutes. I don’t think the guy is gonna show.”

Another cloaked figure, a woman a head and half shorter than her companion gently took her hand in her own “Sweetie you need patience.”

The muscular woman flushed in embarrassment “I know Flora but you know how I get antsy when I gotta wait. I hate waiting!”

“I know Terri but we must wait. He will be here. Correct Tyrell?”

Tyrell, a younger gentleman of 20 scratched his chin thoughtfully “That’s what the message said. Came in this morning on the West Gate board. Said he was traveling with some people but he’d meet up with us within the hour of the meeting time.”

“Ugh” Terri groaned “We should get a move on. The party isn’t going to last all night and we got work to do. We need to find the...”

“Wait.” The last figure whispered quietly “I hear something.”

The group held their breath, fists clasped tightly so they can hear what was approaching.

It was faint but Terri could hear the soft patter of footsteps. They moved with such a gentle foot that only Terri’s years of survival training allowed her to catch it.

Terri stood up to her full height, her thick muscular arms tensed for a fight as a shadow inched closer to the group.

“Show yourself!” Terri shouted, falling into a fighting position.

Oliver stepped out of the darkness, his hands lazily in his pockets.

Flora eyed him carefully “Very weird to be wandering back alleys, no sir?”

Oliver cleared this throat “My name is Oliver, First Chair Soprano in The Choir.”

The group shared a surprised look with one another. Their missing fifth member had finally arrived.

“Now.” Oliver spoke with a mischievous smirk “Who we robbing for the greater good?”

[zims-left-shoe]

Agent Mothman (Dib x Male Reader)

Like most of my other fics, characters are aged up to high school. Plus, a friendly reminder that my request box is open!!

The silence was overwhelming. The pressure of everyone's collective held breath was almost palpable, your chest reactively tightening for no good reason. As you looked around you, eyes were wide, jaws were set and clenched in preparation to cringe. The only two who stuck out from the crowd were Zim and Dib, when did they not? Zim looked lost in thought, mind seemingly several thousand galaxies away, hands folded together neatly in front of his face, his chin resting on them. Dib, on the other hand, appeared to be over the whole ordeal. His posture was slouched as he stared ahead at the board through half-lidded eyes. As the quiet persisted, an anxious energy settled over your classmates (besides the two previously mentioned, of course). Eyes twitched, fingernails scraped the tables, feet began to tap restlessly on the floor.

"Y/n." The teacher finally spoke, bringing the whole class to sigh in relief, the building pressure suddenly released all at once. Many students leaned back in their chairs, high fiving each other. "Y/n, you will be partnered with Dib." You shrugged your shoulders as many looked to you in pity, some even whispering their sympathies. You had never aligned yourself with any group in particular throughout your school year. Granted, you were only a few months in, but you had switched schools so much you had learned to play the field. You avoided Dib considering his stigma, enabling you to be tolerated by the majority, however you were never mean to him. In fact, you rather liked him. You only chose to silently observe him rather than act upon your curiosity. 

"But wait, who's going to be paired with Zim?" You heard a student groan, everyone's breath being held once more. You let your gaze drift over to your partner. He seemed relieved, a slight smile settling on his lips. This was probably the best case scenario for everyone. No one else had to work with Dib, and you were the only one who never picked on him for being just a bit different. 

Once your teacher had finished reading names, you were all asked to sit with your partners. Without an ounce of reluctance, you sauntered over to Dib's otherwise empty table, taking one of the many available seats surrounding him. You needed to figure out a plan quickly, considering you only had one night to do the project. The project wasn't super taxing, in fact it seemed almost like busy work that would promote socialization at the same time, but it wasn't like your time frame was ideal. 

"Dib, right?" You held up your hand in a slight wave. "I don't think I've officially introduced myself. I'm Y/n."

"I know. The new kid who has no real friends yet is somehow still deemed acceptable by the popular kids? An anomaly for sure." Red painted his face, his eyes widening as he realized how his words may have came off as. "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound rude. Or creepy. You know what? I'll just stop talking." An awkward chuckle escaped your lips as his eyes fell to his sneakers. After a slight pause, Dib spoke again, his tone much more reserved than before. "I can just do the whole project and you can put your name on it if you want. It's not that hard." He was giving you an out, not wanting to piss you off. Reaching an arm out, you slugged his shoulder lightly.

"Nah, come on. I don't roll that way. Besides, I want to hang out with you a little."

"You...want to hang out...with me?" Dib pointed a finger to himself, eyes wide behind his large glasses. An incredulous expression was etched into every single feature of his face, as if he couldn't believe those words left your mouth. 

"Yeah." After that syllable, the bell rang, dismissing you from school. You stood up, gathering your things. "Anyway, I'll be at your place after dinner. Just text me your address or whatever." You quickly scribbled your digits down on a scrap piece of paper that was laying around, passing it to him. "See ya!" You dashed away, sneaking one last glance back to see Dib still sitting in his chair, as still as a statue, not believing that this was even happening. 

Your stomach felt as if it was full of butterflies, and you couldn't shake the grin that had spread across your face as you began your walk home. 

God...he was even cuter than I thought... You were embarrassed by your own thoughts, pinching yourself on the arm. Truth was, you may or may not have been stalking him a little. He lived in your neighborhood, and you just couldn't help it. You had always been a hopeless romantic of sorts, and all it took was one look at him in class giving a presentation on the gremlin in his backyard and you were in love. You didn't even need his address, you knew where he lived, but you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable, so you asked for it anyway. Plus, it was a way to sneak him your number. And it wasn't as if you were actively trying to find out where he lived. It was pretty much impossible to ignore him and Zim screaming at each other as they ran back and forth between their houses all day. 

"This is going to be a long night." You sighed out, foot striking out to kick a rock, the satisfying skittering sounds it made calming your nerves a small amount. 

-

You drew in a deep breath as you brought your fist to the door, rapping on it a few times. Rocking back on your heels, you clutched your notebook and other supplies tightly to your chest, internally cringing at yourself. Everyone at school thought you were incredibly cool, but on the inside, you were just a lovesick gay who was overflowing with big dumb energy. The door swung open, bringing you to jump and be pulled from your motivational speech that was being given inside your head. 

"Come on in. I'm surprised you showed up." Dib stepped aside to let you in, gesturing past the living room to the kitchen where a purple-haired girl sat at a table, picking at the remaining food on her plate. A floating monitor hovered near the table as well. "We're just finishing dinner, but you can follow me if you want." Nodding, you padded behind the social outcast wordlessly, taking a seat next to him at the table. "Gaz, this is Y/n, my partner for my project. Y/n, this is my sister Gaz."

"Hey." You waved to the girl. Her expression remained squinty as she continued to pick at her food, eyes dancing between her plate and a Game Slave which was charging on the counter. 

"Whatever." She grumbled, never even directly acknowledging your existence once. You began to wonder if Dib was actually the most normal out of his entire family, which was saying something. Dib awkwardly cleared his throat as he pointed to the floating monitor, which displayed a man in a lab coat and goggles furiously working on something. 

"Oh, and this is my dad. He's at work right now, like usual. When he can't be with us for dinner, he either videocalls us from his lab or plays a pre-recorded video reminding us of chores and dinner instructions." Despite how sad the things he had just said sounded, not an ounce of bitterness was up for display on his face. Instead, his eyes shone with pride, happy to have a dad who was making a difference in the world, even if he could never really be a conventional father. "Anyway, just let me clean up and then we can get to work." Dib stood up, bringing his own plate over to the sink and running it under water, placing it in in its respective place in the dishwasher afterwards. Waving for you to follow him, he led you down the hall to a room that was clearly his. The door was covered in posters and stickers of aliens and other supernatural creatures, a good sized "Keep Out" sign the centerpiece. You wondered what would be inside, becoming excited. You figured you were the first person besides his own family to be seeing his room. He twisted the knob, casually pushing the door open, allowing you to step inside. 

"Wow..." You trailed off as you glanced around. There was so much to look at. Your eyes darted from one thing to the next, barely able to take it all in. There were several computer monitors surrounding a desk that was littered in papers and catalogues for supernatural hunting items, a few prototypes of possibly his dad's inventions scattered there as well. His room was lined with posters of aliens and other entities, an important looking briefcase thrown haphazardly onto his bed. The one thing that held your gaze the longest was a ginormous cork board. Several photos, drawings, diagrams, and hurried scribbles of notes were tacked up there, filling it to the max. Each paper was connected with color coded strings, things circled in colored pen seemingly at random, although you knew better. It was the definition of organized chaos. In large, bold, red letters, one word was scrawled on a paper at the top of the board: ZIM.

"I'm sorry, I tried to clean it as best I could. It's still kind of a mess." Dib hurriedly stacked papers together on his desk, trying to make it look presentable. 

"It's fine, don't worry about it. You should see my room. Half of my shit isn't even out of boxes yet, and we moved in months ago." You laughed, sitting down on his floor. "So, alien invasion, huh? Isn't Zim that kid with the skin condition?" You asked, gesturing to his cork board. His shoulders tensed as he unplugged his computer and brought it down to the ground, taking a seat beside you.

"Could we just get to work? Please?" He seemed to want to sweep that subject under the rug, and you decided that you would let him.

"Okay...so anyway, this research poster. You got a topic in mind?" Your prompt drew him out of his unsociable shell, albeit hesitantly. 

"Personally, I was thinking Area 51, but if you wanted to do something else..." He genuinely appeared to not want to upset you, despite usually not caring about how he came off to others. 

"That sounds great, Dib. Interesting too. You think they're really hiding aliens there?" Laying down on your stomach, you rested your face in the palms of your hands, gearing up for a long talk. A smile crept onto your face as immediately his eyes lit up.

"I'm glad you asked."

-

"I think we have the essentials. Now we just need to get them onto the poster, which is probably the most time consuming part." Dib stretched his arms towards the ceiling while you yawned and cracked your back. You didn't know how long you had been sitting on the floor for, but a glance to the clock by his bed told you it was 8:01 pm. The two of you had spent the last couple of hours researching, organizing notes, and mainly just talking about yourselves. You had no idea why everyone constantly was ragging on him. You found him to be incredibly interesting and entertaining, hanging onto every single word he spoke. You weren't really sure if you believed in all of these supernatural creatures, but you also didn't think that they couldn't exist. 

"I think so too. You ready to start on the poster now?" Reaching out, you gathered the posterboard and construction paper Dib had brought in from his garage together.

"Yeah, in a minute. I have to use the bathroom and then see what Gaz is up to, I'll be back in a few." You hummed a response, Dib standing up and exiting, closing the door softly behind him. Deciding to take a closer look at the Zim conspiracy board, you pushed yourself to your feet, leaning close to try and decipher the grainy images. One in particular caught your eye. It wasn't in color, and everything seemed fairly blurry. Zim, or what was supposedly Zim, was hunched over something that looked to be a robot. Except, as you looked even closer, Zim seemed to have these buggish eyes and long, skinny antennae in place of his hair. Rubbing your eyes, you flopped down onto Dib's bed.

"God, I must be seeing things." You had managed to convince yourself that you had been staring at computer screens and papers for far too long, and that your eyes were playing tricks on you, showing you what Dib wanted you to see. Closing your eyes for a minute, the rise and fall of your chest turned slow and steady, and you could feel your grip on reality loosening. 

A ringtone of sorts snapped you back from your almost-doze, and at first you thought it was your phone, but after waking up a bit more, you realized it was coming from one of Dib's monitors. It appeared he was getting a call. The monitor showed nothing besides a logo of some sort of eye, as well as an option to accept the call or decline. Filled with curiosity, your feet took you to his desk where his monitor sat. You barely felt in control of your body as your finger swiped at the screen in the direction to accept the call.

"Agent Mothman-" The voice coming through the monitor was distorted, but you got the impression that it was on purpose. The image displayed was a dark silhouette of what seemed to be a man. "You're not Mothman."

"You mean that cryptid from West Virginia? No. I'm not." You took a seat in Dib's desk chair, which was very comfy. You assumed he spent a lot of time in it when he wasn't hanging out with Zim. 

"Who are you and what do you know?" The voice was menacing, and you vaguely wondered if Dib was involved in something more serious than you thought. Quirking an eyebrow, you tried to not let any miniscule amount of fear you were feeling show.

"I'm, we'll just say Agent, uh...Nessie." Feeling uncreative, your mind drifted to the Loch Ness Monster. 

"You're not Nessie either." 

"You got one of those too? Ugh, fine. What about Agent Chupacabra?"

"Well, no, but...you're not any agent we know of."

"But I could be! Agent Chupacabra reporting for duty!" You brought your hand up to your head stiffly in a mock salute.

"But you're not a member of the Swollen Eyeball! What are you doing on Mothman's computer?" 

"The Swollen what now?" You were smiling stupidly, only because you couldn't really grasp what the current situation was. 

"Hey, sorry, Gaz decided to hound me over drinking the last soda, so I took a little longer than I thought-" Dib opened the door to reveal you sitting in his desk chair, trying to look all spooky for the guy in the monitor. You thought he'd laugh at your stupidity, but he was not in the least bit amused. "OH MY GOD AGENT DARK BOOTY!" Slamming his room door, he darted over to where you were sitting, almost tripping and falling on his face. He made a strangled noise as he noticed the disappointed expression that rested on the silhouette's face.

"Who is your little friend, Agent Mothman?" The distorted voice was cold, and you could feel Dib almost shrink next to you.

"Listen, I can explain-"

"I thought we stressed secrecy, and the fact that you are not allowed to have outsiders sit in on our important meetings."

"Meeting?" All of a sudden, several of the other monitors sparked to life, various other silhouettes coming into view. Just in one glance, you could see that Dib wanted nothing more than to fade away into a cloud of space dust in that moment. You stayed silent, knowing that Dib was in some serious trouble because of you.

"We had a meeting at 8:30 pm sharp, Mothman. You knew this. And you had a friend over?" Dib's face, already pale, turned even more so. Any lighter, and you thought for sure he'd become a ghost on the spot. 

"I am so sorry, I had a school project, and he's my partner, I lost track of time." He looked absolutely helpless, and without a word, you stood up and gathered the poster supplies. Snapping back to his senses, he turned to you and began shoving you out of his room and herding you to the front door.

"Dib, I-"

"You really need to go!" There were no other words said between the two of you as he quite literally slammed the door in your face. A sigh slipped past your lips as you clutched your project items in your arms, dragging your feet across the pavement on your walk home. You lazily stumbled through your front door, mumbling a greeting to your parent(s) as you headed to your room, gearing yourself up to finish the project before morning. 

-

"Thank you to Y/n and Dib for their, erm, informative...presentation on Area 51. That was your last one, so enjoy your last five or so minutes of class." Your teacher went back to their desk as you and Dib retreated to your own table. You hadn't talked much since the incident last night, and quite frankly, you were tired from spending hours of your night creating the visual portion of your project. Dib's lips were tightly pressed together in a thin line, and you guessed there was something he wanted to get off his chest. 

"Look, Dib. If there's something you want to say to me, just do it. I'm sorry for answering your call, that was not a good move on my part, and I also apologize for getting you in trouble with your, uh...society." Running a hand through his dark hair, Dib shook his head.

"No, that was my bad. I forgot I had a meeting. I'm also really sorry for kicking you out and then forcing you to finish the project on your own." Your expression softened, unable to resist forgiving him.

"Yeah, that was kind of a dick move." You elbowed him jokingly, hoping he would loosen up now that bygones were bygones.

"No, seriously. How can I make it up to you?" He looked as if he wouldn't be taking no for an answer. He had gotten a taste of what having someone who genuinely enjoyed being around him was like, and he wasn't willing to let that go. A sly grin tugged at your lips, and almost immediately an idea came to mind.

"Consider yourself forgiven if you take me ghost hunting, or whatever it is you do." His shoulders tensed, but relaxed when he realized you weren't making fun of him. 

"Well, you're in luck. I just received a case file investigation last night on a bigfoot lead. I'll pick you up at eight, if that works?" His words were cautious, almost as if he still believed you were phishing.

"It's a date!" You cheered happily, already excited about getting to spend more time with him. A faint blush dusted his cheeks at your wordage.

"Of-Of course." He stammered out, grateful for the bell that rang not even a second after. 

"See you tonight, Dib!" You waved as you made your way home, wanting eight to come as fast as possible.

"He knows the project is over, right?" Torque Smacky raised an eyebrow, questioning Dib and wondering why someone as cool as you would be hanging around with a guy like Dib by choice. 

-

The doorbell rang, and you sprang up from where you sat on the couch, overjoyed to head out. Practically throwing open the door revealed Dib in all of his trench coat glory, albeit a bit nervous looking and sweaty. 

"Alright Mr. Mothman, where are we going?" You grabbed onto his arm, eventually linking it with your own. He cringed at the nickname, but resisted nothing else. 

"To the park. Apparently, some woman saw bigfoot there the other night. Also, fun fact, I saw bigfoot in my garage one time. He was using the belt sander." Your eyes widened, and you immediately realized why everyone called him crazy. You took it upon yourself to believe him. He obviously believed in himself, so why shouldn't you?

"Interesting. You see any other spooks in your time here?" He shrugged as you walked.

"I mean, I think a few ghosts and, well, aliens of course, but we've been over that. Also, I have vague memories of being abducted by aliens as a kid. I think they were trying to experiment on me to create some sort of genius super baby or something." You couldn't help the laughter that tumbled from your mouth. It wasn't necessarily laughing at him, more so that you weren't sure how else to respond. You didn't want to put him down, but at the same time, his story was very out there. And although you weren't 100% on board with the whole supernatural thing, you believed in him and his words. If that was his truth, you would stand by it. "You ever see anything supernatural?" You pointed a finger to yourself, as if to ask, 'me?'. 

"Well, I mean...I did live in West Virginia for a while when I was younger...a lot younger. And then we moved around a lot." Your eyes instinctively narrowed as you tried to recall those times with you and your neighborhood friends. "And, you know, Mothman was like the local legend. He's basically a celebrity down there."

"No way! Did you actually, like, see him?" If you didn't already have it, you sure had his full attention now. 

"No. I believed in him for a while, but we never saw him, and as I got older and distanced myself from there, I just kind of figured it was bullshit. My friends and I, we would go out at night trying to hunt for him with flashlights and stuff. Sometimes we'd bring lamps onto the porch and plug them in, building little 'Welcome, Mothman' forts to sleep in." You chuckled, remembering how much you had believed in all the spookies and specters as a child. 

"That's adorable." Dib's lips were parted in a smile as he continued to lead you deeper into the park. You weren't sure when you had actually gotten there, but you weren't really paying much attention.

"Well, maybe we could do that together some time. I know Mothman isn't really big in this part of the country, but who knows. Maybe he'll come." Softly bumping Dib in the side, you were pleased to see his smile only grow. 

"I'd like that." The nice moment was interrupted by rustling of the trees, and Dib turned on his flashlight, pointing it to the treetops. "There!"

"I thought bigfoot was more on the ground!" You called as you raced after him. You both came to a grinding halt, your feet skidding in the grass to try and avoid ramming straight into Dib's back. The boy you were with aggressively pointed his flashlight into the tree, resulting in a loud hiss from whatever was up there. "Maybe it's just a cat, Dib!" You tried to pull him away, not really liking how riled up he was at the moment.

"Zim! What are you doing here?! What evil things are you planning?" 

"Zim?" You looked upwards, following the beam of the flashlight. Sure enough, there was a green body hunched in a tree branch, a robot of some sort next to him. 

"None of your business, Dib-stink!" Zim spat, turning to face your friend. It was then you got a good look at his face. It wasn't the slightly abnormal one you were used to seeing every day. His eyes were red and buglike, sleek, black antennae sprouting from his head. 

"Holy shit, Dib. You're not crazy." You flicked your flashlight on as well, aiming it at who you thought was your classmate. "He really is an alien!" A strangled cry came from the alien sitting atop the tree branch.

"GIR! Do something!"

"Yes, master!" The once cheerful-looking robot suddenly turned much more serious, dropping down from the branch to where the two of you were standing. You yelped, unsure of what this thing was capable of.

"Relax, his robot is pretty much usele-" Dib began, but his sentence came to an abrupt end when several missals and other weapons emerged from his head. 

"How do you like GIR's new adjustments, Dib? I finally got his behavioral chip fixed to where he's responsive, but not too serious." Zim smirked, and with the point of one of his clawed fingers, his robot was on the two of you. 

Simultaneously, both of you let out a scream, reaching desperately for each other's hands as you ran for your lives back to Dib's place. Your feet pounded the pavement, lungs feeling as if someone was raking knives down your throat and organs, yet despite all that, you both refused to look back. Only when you were on his porch did you feel comfortable sneaking a glace behind you, only to find an empty street lit up by streetlights. Breathing heavily, the two of you leaned on each other for support. Dib looked very worse for wear. He didn't seem to be too athletically inclined. 

"I think...we lost him..." You spoke between gasps for air, grinning all the while. He nodded vigorously, still wheezing. After the two of you had regained your breath, you both managed to catch each other's gaze. You felt every portion of your brain that was in charge of thinking shut down as you leaned in closer to him. You were barely even aware of what you were doing as you pressed your lips to his. His eyes looked as if they were about to burst from his skull, but after a moment, they eased shut as he relaxed into the kiss. You pulled away, feeling heat rush to your cheeks, almost as if your face was on fire. Your stomach was tied in too many knots to even look at Dib, but if you had, you would have seen that he wasn't fairing much better. In fact, he was probably in worse condition. "Thanks for the night of fun, Agent Mothman."

"Uh-huh." He mumbled out, and his brain looked miles away. You decided just to go home before you did or said anything else that could be classified as stupid. As you power-walked away, Dib's hand found its way to his lips, where the feeling and warmth of your own still lingered.

[barrysjumpsuit]

the dark side - jj maybank x shoupe’s daughter, ch. 1

w/c: 1.9k

summary:  catherine shoupe has the perfect life. when she gets hired by heyward to run groceries, she has a new coworker - jj maybank. as the deputy’s daughter, she can’t help but hate him. but when jj decides to bring her to the dark side and woo her over, cat not only has to hide her activities from her father, but also hide who she really is.

warnings: none for this chapter

a/n: i’m super excited for this! making it up as i go.... posting may be slightly delayed/irregular since i’m busy with working and moving but who knows i’ll probably waste my time and work on this more than i should

---

Cat’s feet and back ached, and the sun felt good on her cool skin as she stepped out of the overly air-conditioned grocery store she had been in since they opened that morning. She sat down on a bench in a shaded area between the store and a coffee shop, resting and enjoying her fifteen minute break.

The same thing. Every day, five days a week. Cat would be the opener for the grocery store, getting there at four in the morning and working until ten. It was smaller, a hippie fresh market type of place with fresh produce and organic products. Very Kook-y. It drew tourists and locals alike, as well as a bunch of people her age, working for grocery delivery services.

Morning shifts in the summer were nice because they drew more of the local crowd. The working class, like her, though still kooks. Moms grabbing their groceries after dropping their kids off at school, working professionals stopping by for premade sandwiches or donuts for their coworkers. That particular morning, her dad had stopped by for his own lunch and spent entirely too long chatting with her.

Cat enjoyed seeing people, asking them about plans for their days. She often suggested the best surfing spots and restaurants to the non-locals, while striking up easy conversations with the regulars that frequented the market in the mornings. After work she often took her brother out to the beach. It was her mission this summer to teach him how to surf. In the evenings, if her dad wasn’t working, she would help her mom cook dinner and they would have a big family meal. It was repetitive, but perfect and full of things and people she loved.

After her fifteen minute break was up, she went back inside, but her manager pulled her aside before she returned to her checking lane.

“Hey, Catherine, come see me in my office?” Mrs. Lee’s voice rang out. 

There was a brief nervousness that made Cat’s stomach roll over, but it quickly vanished once she saw the smile on the store owner’s face. “So you know Heyward, right?”

“Of course,” she answered, smiling at the thought. She knew the man and his son well - they were always in and out, buying groceries for their customers. “He’s awesome. What about him?”

“He and I are partners now,” she continued, obviously excited about the development. “He’s looking to hire some new people to deliver groceries. I know you love being out on the water and talking to people, so I figured I’d ask to see if you were interested. It’ll come with a bump in your pay, too.”

“Yes!” she said, perhaps a little too eagerly. “I’m definitely interested. Does he want an interview?”

Mrs. Lee laughed. “He said if you were interested, you’re on board automatically. He knows you’re a good worker. I’ll call him and let him know and get back at you, okay?”

“Sounds good! Thanks, Mrs. Lee,” Cat said, smiling back at her before leaving her office.

Going back to her checking lane was almost bittersweet, knowing that lane three had been hers for almost two years. As soon as she flipped her light back on, a local came through, eagerly starting up a conversation and letting Cat know how his son was doing in the summer little league baseball series.

After she got off, she cranked the AC on in her car and began the drive home. The place was flooded with tourists, the summer season officially in full swing. She lived right off the main strip, which was fun and convenient, but could get annoying when anyone and everyone was there. 

“Hey Cat!” her brother greeted her as she got home. He was sitting on the couch, watching TV.

“Hey Tyler! Want to go out for ice cream later?” she asked, and he nodded excitedly. “I’ll make us some lunch then we can go after that.”

“Okay!” she heard him respond as she jogged up the carpeted steps. She walked past her parent’s bedroom and then into hers, kicking off her shoes and changing into flowy shorts and a basic tee before going back downstairs to make lunch.

The rest of the day was pleasant and uneventful. After they ate lunch, she took Tyler to the ice cream place two blocks away. He got birthday cake while she got peppermint, enjoying the cool sensation on the hot day. They walked on the beach, her brother talking nonstop about the video game he was playing, while Cat smiled and faked listening.

She was really listening to the sound of the waves lapping at the store, and the voices of those who lounged on the beach. Some were playing in the ocean, some were playing games in the soft sand. 

Her father was off work at six, so once they returned home, it wasn’t long until her mother got off work and they started prepping dinner. Cat’s mom was laid back, always smiling, which she loved. She left her work at the office, unlike her father.

Being the daughter of a sheriff’s deputy was odd. Cat didn’t mind it. There were rules in place, of course, but she hadn’t any urge to break them. There were people from her school out doing drugs and drinking most nights of the week, but Cat had never touched any of that. She had a curfew, but she didn’t really mind it.

Her dad got home right before dinner was ready. He pulled Cat towards him, kissing the top of her head before kissing her mom on the lips. “How are my ladies this evening?” he asked, grinning. A patch on his uniform read Shoupe in bold letters, and he was still fully clad in his uniform.

“Pretty good,” Cat answered, stirring the sauce that was simmering on the stove. 

They made light conversation until her dad went to change out of his work clothes while Cat and her mom set the table and plated up dinner.

“How was work, Cat?” her dad asked when they were sat down and eating.

“It was good. The usual. But, I got a new job!”

“Oh?” her mom asked, taking a sip of wine and raising her eyebrows. 

“Heyward and Mrs. Lee are working together now, and Heyward needs runners. So he wants me. I get a pay bump too.”

Cat was smiling, but it dropped when she saw her dad’s face. Her mom noticed too, casting him a glare, and he spoke. “That’s great, honey. But be careful, okay?”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Her father hated her going near the Cut. Not that she had much reason or urge to, but she knew it could be rough down there. He often worked down there, on the south side of the island, and constantly told stories about shoplifting Pogues and underage drinking. “Dad, it’s Heyward’s. It’s basically Figure Eight.”

“I know, I’m just saying,” he said, raising his hands in surrender.

“Can you take me on the delivery boat sometime?” Tyler asked, luckily rerouting the conversation.

The issue was luckily dropped, but Cat still felt bad. She didn’t know why - she was seizing the opportunity, something her parents had always encouraged. Cat had been working ever since she was old enough. Her father always told her, a good work ethic is the most important thing you can have. They were urging her to save up for college, and now she was essentially being promoted.

Mrs. Lee had texted her during dinner. Heyward wants you to start tomorrow! Meet him at 9, wear whatever you want.

She responded to the text before settling down in bed with a book. At ten, before she went to bed, her father stepped into her room after knocking softly on her door.

“Hey, dad,” she said, and he walked over to sit on her bed. Cat pulled her feet up to give him some room and put her book down on her nightstand.

“I’m happy for you, Cat,” he said, smiling at her. “Just be careful, okay? With all the boat traffic now and going everywhere… Heyward’s a good guy. I trust him.”

“I will, dad. You know me. I grew up on the water.”

He smiled again. “Yeah, you did. Have fun tomorrow, okay? Good night.”

“G’night, dad,” she said as her father stood and left the room.

---

Cat woke up early, not used to getting to sleep in since she usually was at the grocery store before dawn. Her parents had already left for work, leaving Tyler in front of the TV as normal. She made a smoothie before changing into shorts and a t-shirt. 

“Bye, Ty!” she called as she left the house at 8:30, closing the back door behind her before heading to her car.

It was about a 20 minute drive to Heyward’s from her house. When she got there, she quickly located him on the dock, filling a gas can. As she stepped onto the dock, he gave her a wave, and quickly hurried over.

Heyward gave her an impromptu ‘training’. How to read the orders, how to use the boat’s navigation. It was simple, and she knew most of the people who had put in orders for that day. “Right now I have two people who shop and two of you who run and deliver together, each day,” he was explaining. “Here’s your work shirt, I don’t give a damn what pants you wear as long as your ass isn’t hangin’ out.”

He thrust three t-shirts of different colors towards her, each with the Heyward’s logo printed on it before taking her into the office to discuss her pay and scheduling. Since she was already in the system, it went by quickly, and she ran her printed schedule to her car and slipped into her new work shirt before returning to the dock. 

“There’s those sons of bitches getting back now,” he said, waving at two people who stood on a white boat pulling up to dock. “Catherine, go ahead and start carrying over the groceries in the cooler over there, time for your first run.”

She went inside the small building and started pulling bags out of the ice, full of produce and goods from her store. She noticed Heyward’s son, Pope, standing on the boat, and he held out his hands to take the bags from her to load.

“You working here now?” he asked, and she nodded. Cat had always liked Pope; they went to the same school until high school. He was quiet and witty, which she appreciated, and they had even sat together at lunch one year.

As soon as she finished handing Pope the groceries, she took his outstretched hand and climbed onto the boat.

“Hey Catherine!” she heard Heyward call. She turned to see him, grinning at her. “These are your new coworkers. Have fun.”

Pope grinned at her, but Heyward said coworkers. Plural.

A blond boy came into her line of sight, smirking. Cat’s heart sank as she recognized who it was, and she considered getting off the boat, but couldn’t bring herself to move or speak. It was someone she hadn’t seen in quite a while, and she was okay with that.

JJ was the first to speak up, his voice smooth and cocky. “Hey, kitty Cat, long time, no see.”

---

taglist:  @letsgofullkook @stargazingstarkey @sortagaysortahigh @jjsmentalpolaroids @ims0golden @jjmaybcnks​ @shawnssongs​ @queenk00k @broken-jj​

[some-dr-writings]

SHSL Theatre Actress comes out as aromantic to Mikan, Ibuki and Korekiyo

Mikan Tsumiki: pt.1

·       It was a day just like any other. That morning you had invited Mikan to come to rehearsal to watch. Having a massive crush on you she more than eagerly accepted! She also knew how reckless you tended to be with your own safety, she liked being nearby to patch you up quickly.

·       It seemed to be a miracle that nothing happened during the practice. Mikan decided to meet you backstage. If nothing happened on stage, then you likely would end up getting injured helping change the spotlights or something. Maybe fall off a ladder or try lifting something and hurt your back. Who knows?

·       She rather quickly spotted you actually… With a guy leaning in rather close to you. “Come on, just one date. What’s the big deal?” “The big deal is, NO. I don’t want to go on a date with you!” “What? Think you’re better than me? Am I not your type?” “Yes! I am better than you! I don’t persist when people withdraw their consent!” Oh no. You were fuming. You had absolutely no sense of danger when you were mad. “And YES, you are not my type! I HAVE NO TYPE! SO LEAVE ME ALONE YOU CREEP OR I SWEAR I’LL DESTROY ANY CHANCE YOU BOUGHT WITH MONEY SINCE YOU CERTAINLY DON’T HAVE TALENT OR PASSION, OF MAKING IT ANYWHERE IN THIS INDUSTRY! DO YOU SERIOUSLY THINK YOU’LL GET FAR DISRESPECTING PEOPLE?! THAT’S HOW YOU IMPRESS SOMEONE!? SORRY ASSHOLE THAT’S NOT HOW THE WORLD WORKS! HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN AT THIS? A WEEK NOW! AND GUESS WHAT MY ANSWER HAS BEEN EVERY SINGLE TIME YOU ASK! OH, YOU DON’T NEED TO GUESS, I ALREADY TOLD YOU! NO! NEVER! NOW LEAVE ME ALONE!” As you were stomping away the guy grabbed your hand! The guy was about to say something when you headbutted him in the jaw. He likely bit his lip or tongue because he started bleeding. Mikan chased after you as you ran away.

·       You just kept running and running. “Y-Y/N!” “Mikan!?” You slowed your paced for a moment, grabbing Mikan’s hand, continuing to run.

·       The pair of you hid in Mikan’s dorm room. She sat you down on her bed before scurrying around getting supplies to examine you. Her cheeks were lightly dusted with pink as she held your face getting a close look at the top of your head. “Tsumiki… I-I think I’m fine.” “W-well, you may think so, but many illnesses can be present without making themselves known. The same can be said with injuries… I-I’m sorry am I annoying you!?” “N-no, no! You’re okay! I just don’t want you to waste supplies on me.” “Supplies w-would never be wasted on you! E-even if they don’t help, i-if it’s for you, it’s never a waste!” Her blush only grew as she looked at you with such determined eyes…

·       She really cared about you…

·       “Y/N w-what’s wrong!? Are you hurting? Why are you crying!?” You tried holding back the sobs as you quickly wiped those tears away. “I-I’m so sorry.” “Sorry? Sorry for what? I don’t need or deserve apologies! Did I do something wrong!?” “N-no, you’re amazing.” You buried your face in your hands, absolutely ashamed of yourself. “E-even if I was interested in romance I would never go out with that guy, but, b-but you…” You forced yourself to take deep breaths. You forced yourself to look at her even in that blur. You forced yourself to… to confess. “But you’re amazing! And I’ve been awful to you! I know you have a crush on me, I knew for a long time! I thought if I didn’t say anything, maybe nothing would change and it’d all be fine, but… I can’t keep doing this to you! I don’t, I can’t ever return your feelings. I love you, but not like how you love me! I’m aromantic. I’m just not attracted to people like that! And I honestly don’t mind, I’m so happy to simply have friends, I don’t need any other type of relationships to feel complete or happy, but, I can’t just keep stringing you along like this! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Mikan!”

·       “Y-Y/N, p-please don’t cry for me!” Tears were already streaking down her cheeks. “I really don’t mind!” “H-huh? What?” “If you’re aromantic, I don’t mind. Just please keep calling me your friend! That’s honestly all I want!” “I-I, no, I don’t want this to get toxic! You’re my best friend! I don’t want to hurt you!” You stood up, pulling her into a hug before burrowing your tear stained face onto her shoulder. Trembling, you hugged her tightly. “I can’t keep hurting you.” Mikan hugged you back, letting you get your emotions out.

·       Once you calmed down, she sat you back on her bed. “Y/N, as long as you keep talking to me, I don’t mind. As long as you keep calling me your friend, I honestly can’t care less if you return my feelings. I’ve never had such an amazing friend like you! So please don’t feel guilty!” “… Mikan… I… but you’ve been treated so badly, I don’t want to be another person who does the same to you.” “What are you talking about? You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met! I’m happy the way things are! I don’t need you to love me!” “But I do love you, but just… not romantically. Which is what you have for me!” “I really don’t mind! Even if you weren’t aromantic and you fell in love with and dated someone else, I wouldn’t mind!” “But I never can… maybe that can be some condolence for you?” “I don’t want condolences. Just keep calling me your friend!” “… You… You really are okay with just being friends?” Taking an icepack out of the ice chest beside her, she placed it on your head. “It’s not ‘just being friends’ friendships are just as important as romantic ones, if not more! Having friends can do wonders for your health!” “I… If you’re sure. It’s just… I don’t know, romantic love is everywhere in plays and media so… I know it’s a big deal to others.” “Well, it’s not for me! I love you, and you love me, but in a different way! And that’s okay!” You couldn’t help but smile.

·       “A-although, if you don’t want to be friends, that’s fine too! Whatever you want!” “Mikan, no! Dang it, I thought you were gaining confidence!” “I-I’m so sorry!” “Stop it! We’re friends! You don’t annoy me! But please believe in yourself more!”

  Ibuki Mioda:

·       Your group decided to do a musical and who better than the Super High School Level Light Music Club Member to ask for help about the music!

·       It was… an interesting experience. She spoke of how before she could help, she needed to see if you could all perform together. Being more of the shy sort you found Ibuki to be a bit much at first, but through playing her games you rather quickly warmed up to her. You still were a bit quiet around her, but she did more than enough talking for the both of you.

·       Performing with her was certainly a lively event. It was also the most fun you ever had performing and that was saying something! You absolutely adored the stage but with Ibuki it was like you entered an entirely new world! One of boundless energy and excitement! One of pure passion and nothing else! The stress of wanting the other performers not mess up seemed to fade away as you just got lost in the music pouring your heart and soul into every last note! It was amazing!

·       Though it seems others may have misinterpreted your passion. Specifically, your co-star. He was a nice boy. New to performing, but he certainly had talent and passion. He was a good kid.

·       After the performance you ran straight to Ibuki, hopping around still feeling that boundless energy flowing through you. As the two of you were excitedly talking over one another neither of you notice as your co-star approached. Once the two of you finished spinning around and headbanging you finally noticed him. “O-oh, hi.” “Hey, Y/N, uh, could we talk for a moment… alone?” “Sure?” Hesitantly you followed the guy. Once you were alone, he asked you out. “Sorry, but, no thank you.” “Oh, really? I thought we might have had something. You were always so stiff during the kiss scene in practice but tonight you were more relaxed! I, thought that maybe… you started liking me?” “Oh, no, no, no. Sorry, that was just the passion of the performance.” He rather awkwardly walked away.

·       As you marched away you overheard some conversations. The usual really. You were stuck up, that’s why you never gave nice guys a chance. You burned fan mail because you were so disgusted by them. The usual really. There’s bound to be poison thrown your way given how runaway popular you were. Besides, it’s not like they were entirely wrong, who were you to refute them.

·       You decided to hide in your dressing room to ignore it all. As expected, a large pile of gifts and fan letters sat waiting for you there. After changing out of your costume and removing your makeup you started slowly going through it. It was normally nice, genuine compliments and the like, but sometimes the gifts and letters got… creepy. Those letters in particular, you burned. After emptying the small trashcan, you placed the letter at the bottom, you lit a match readying to drop it in the can.

·       As you were doing so you heard that bubbly voice call out your name before opening the door. “Whow, Y/N, what’s with the match? Wait! Ibuki can guess!” The girl quickly skipped over to you, looking into the trash bin. “Oooh, so the rumors of ‘the heart breaker’ are true.” “Ah, so you’ve heard those rumors and nickname.” You limply dropped the match, watching the letter burn. “I don’t get why people can’t take ‘no’ for an answer. I swear, it can’t just be me. There must be people, who even if they are interested in romance, must find this uncomfortable, right?” “Oh, you’re aromantic?” You flinched not expecting to hear that. “… Uh, y-yeah.” You were immediately filled with dread. Being aromantic was not something you tried keeping secret, but you did try to be selective with who you told. “Nice! Ibuki has a fellow, repeat after me! A! RO! MAN! TIC! Aromantic buddy!” “Fellow aromantic buddy? You’re aromantic too?” A big smile creased the rock star’s lips as she eagerly nodded. “Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! That’s correct!” You let go of the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

·       “So, what’s with that letter?” “Ah, well… A ‘fan’ I had to file a restraining order against, they stalked me for some time and constantly showered me in very uncomfortable gifts like their baby book and letters of proposal. The proposal letters in particular always make my skin crawl knowing I even touched the unnerving thing. And even with the restraining order they always find some way to get them to me. I’ve tried throwing them away, but they somehow get back to me. The only way to get rid of it is to burn it. I can’t be the only person who finds this creepy! It’s not just because I’m aromantic, right? So many people have told me that I should be nicer since they’re a fan, but… I just can’t. I don’t think it’s okay, but… when so many people tell you you’re wrong, you can’t help but wonder…” “No, you’re right. They’re a total creepo! The girls from my old band would get letters like that and they weren’t aromantic and found them creepy!” “Oh thank goodness, it’s not just me!”

·       After that performance your confidence in yourself outside of acting slowly blossomed with Ibuki’s help. It felt amazing to have a friend who was the same as you in that aspect, truly being able to understand your position. Since you two worked so well together on stage she insisted on forming a band with you, and even made outfits for the pair of you with aromantic pride flag colors. Ibuki very quickly became a very dear friend to you.

  Korekiyo Shinguji:

·       Ah, Valentine’s day, a day you dreaded. It was nice getting chocolate, but many of the girls asking you out was the bad part. Having to reject girls all day was rather tiring, especially so when they insisted on you telling them who you gave your chocolate to. No one. Even when you told them that, none believed you. From some reason not liking anyone romantically was impossible to them and they said you were stuck up or lying.

·       As the day loomed ever closer bringing white and pink hues with it, you decided to try to save yourself some grief. Maybe you could tell them you weren’t interested in anyone, but you were gifting your friends chocolates? You hoped this would help. You had to try something, hiding didn’t work last year, somehow, they always found you.

·       The morning of Valentine’s day you took a deep breath before leaving your dorm room. Aaand you were already surrounded by girls… This was going to be a long day.

·       You managed to find and gift each of your friends a chocolate bar… all except one.

·       Kiyo.

·       You were having trouble getting the proper inspiration for your role, so you began to do research. In your research you met the anthropologist. He immersed you in the region, it’s traditions, history, everything. When speaking with him you felt you were truly there. From then on, you always went to him for guidance, after all, plays were deeply intertwined with anthropology and you really liked people who were especially passionate about their interests, like him. Even as shy as you were his calm demeanor could ease you and get you out of your shell.

·       He was most certainly your friend and you were determined to gift him some chocolate before the day ended! He wasn’t answering his phone, he wasn’t in his lab, if he was in his dorm room, he didn’t answer the door. Where could he be? You spent the majority of the day dashing down hall after hall, hiding from your fans, and searching for your friend.

·       You were exhausted seeing that bright sunset. Sighing, you laid down on the snowy ground looking up at that clear sky. “I guess I can just give it to him tomorrow… I mean, today isn’t the only day I can show I love someone… NO!” You abruptly sat up. “He’s done too much for me! I have to find him today!” “Simply beautiful.” “Kiyo!?” The man slowly strode towards you with his hands in his pockets. “Such wonderful determination. And for love no less.” “Finally.” You scrambled to get up, pulling the chocolate bar out of your pocket. “Happy Valentine’s Day!” Kiyo simply stared at you in surprise for a moment before gently taking the chocolate. “I had no idea. I accept your feelings but my heart belongs to another so I can not return them to you in kind.” “Oh! No, no! I’m giving all my friends chocolate today.” “All your friends you say? So, you’re celebrating Philia today instead of Eros. The love of friendships, not passion and romance.” “Yeah! It seems most media and so many people always focus on romance that other relationships are left behind.” “I can see where you’re coming from. There have been countless traditions through out the ages celebrating the pleasure, passion, and lust of the romantic. Eros is so tightly intertwined with reproduction and continuing the species it’s almost instinctual, natural to find it so important. Though… I must wonder if you are thinking this because you have yet to find someone to treasure in that way.” There it was. You sighed, hearing that all too familiar sentiment. “Is something wrong, Y/N? Did I hit too close to home there?” “Well… Yeah. It seems everywhere I look not being in or not wanting to be in a relationship is seen as wrong. Like it’s demonized to not want that. People will say to just lower your standards, or to just wait because you’ll meet the right person SOMEDAY or that if you’re not in a romantic relationship you’ll be completely lonely! Like only romantic love can make a person complete or something! Like you’re some alien for not wanting that! Because clearly something MUST be WRONG with me, right!? Because everyone else wants it! Because friendship isn’t good enough, right!? So if it’s not, then why do people make friends in the first place!? If all people want is romance, then why make friends!? Do people only make friends to turn them into potential partners some day!? Is that what I’ve been missing this whole time!? Do all my relationships, my friends, mean nothing!? SHOULD I want more from my friends!? Is that what’s wrong with me!? Because according to the world I have to want more, so there has to be SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME, RIGHT!? BECAUSE I NEED TO LOVE SOMEONE ROMANTICALLY, TO HAVE A PARTNER, TO HAVE KIDS, TO RAISE A FAMILY BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT ALL THIS IS ABOUT, RIGHT!? BECAUSE I’M BROKEN RIGHT!? I’M BROKEN FOR NOT WANTING THIS! I’M SOME FREAK-SHOW PEOPLE THINK IS SOME EMOTIONLESS HUSK! BECAUSE I CAN’T LOVE, RIGHT!?”

·       And you laughed. Hugging yourself, through broken sobs you kept laughing. That chopped up hyperventilating turned warped drowning laughter. You didn’t know why, but you just couldn’t stop laughing. Maybe it was all the stresses of the day had taken it’s toll on you. Maybe you were scared that Kiyo, a person who you knew had a reverent respect for romantic love would tell you, you were wrong like so many others had. Maybe… maybe you were just exhausted from having ran around all day.

·       “s-sorry kiyo…” You tried wiping the tears from your eyes but they just kept flooding out. “i-i’m not ma-mad at you, i-i swear…” You buried you face into your hands wanting to disappear. You wished Korekiyo would just walk away and pretend he didn’t see your outburst. You hated yourself for yelling at him. It wasn’t his or anyone else’s fault. You were just so sick and tired of romance being shoved down your throat, for others acting like it was some necessity that you were missing to be a complete person. You hated it all so much. You knew you weren’t wrong, that you were okay the way you were, but… having that constant pressure on you always made holding on to the truth difficult at times… It just hurt. You merely melted in the gentle suffocating warmth that surrounded you.

·       “… If you want romantic love, yet don’t want it in the moment, you are valid. If you don’t want romance at all or ever, that is valid too. And friendships do not merely exist to morph them into partnerships. Aristotle spoke much on the subject. He spoke of how there are different kinds of friendship just as there are different kinds of love. Friendships are necessary to get a better view of the world, even if one had the whole world in the palm of their hand, it would mean nothing without friends, companionship. You are valid, Y/N.” He hugged you tighter, trying to show he was there for you.

·       He let you go, letting you take a step back. Taking one last deep breath those tears finally stopped flowing. “s-sorry.” “Hmm? Care to elaborate? I see no reason for you to do so.” “I-I… I’m aromantic, and… your comment just really got to me.” “Then, I believe I should be apologizing. I didn’t realize those words would hurt you so.” “E-exactly, you didn’t know.” “Yet, they still hurt. Just because I knew not the damage they’d bring dose not numb the pain any less.” “… yeah.”

·       To your confusion he turned around… He was changing masks? He only ever turned around like this when doing so. When he turned back to face you the chocolate bar was partly unwrapped. “I accept and return your love, Y/N.” “Thank you.” Cheerily he snapped a piece off and popped it into his mouth… somehow. You still had no idea how he ate or drank with those things on. “So, shall we go to my lab for the evening? We have much research to do.” “Hmm? I’m not starting any new plays, Kiyo.” “No, not for that. To search for examples of aromantic orientation through history. Very few examples spring to mind on the subject and I’d like your help remedying that.” “Kiyo.” You couldn’t bring yourself to speak for a moment. You just… took in how overwhelmingly happy and relieved you felt. “Yeah, I’d love to help you. Let’s go.”