#clown gets his bare arms out because I think it looks neat

[cephalomod]

Happy Halloween! Enjoy everyone’s favourite killer clown (and his bunny friend)

[yeehawbvby]

Falling Away With You | Ch. 37

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Time for y/n's first SDV Fair as a farmer!

Author’s Note: Leah’s joke towards the end is another stolen RomRas line. I could never make her this iconic myself u__u Hope you enjoy, I’d love to hear what you think! Take care x

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

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It’s finally the day of the Stardew Valley Fair. I’ve got a few ears of raw corn, a tray of corn bread, and a basketful of those forageables I gathered with Leah, all ready to be presented. 

This is gonna go sooo badly.

It’s okay though. I’ve got this. I’ve totally got this!

My reputation as a city girl-turned-farmer is definitely not at stake. 

Nobody will criticize my efforts. 

No one will point and laugh and mistake me for the clown Lewis allegedly hired to perform. 

Not even myself. Nope!

No way. 

Not lying to myself at all.

(Yes I am.)

Aaand if my grange does earn the worst possible score, at least I get to see the neat stuff Robin, Leah, Clint and Emily made for the crafting category. Plus, Lady Welwick will be there, and so will a bunch of carnies with games, and there will be yummy food, which could all be a fun distraction.

I got up bright and early to make sure I’ll have everything ready to go, and so I can get there ahead of time to decorate my grange a bit. Maybe the added pizzazz will woo Lewis during his scoring. I shake my hands and head to fidget out my nerves and hype myself up.

Trying to really encapsulate the farmer ~look,~ I toss on a deep red jumper beneath my brown denim overalls. I farm in these a lot more than I wear them out these days, so they’ve got some wear to them. Proof that I am A Farmer!! Then, I braid my hair into twintails and wear the cute hat I won at the Egg Festival on top.

When I arrive in town, it turns out I’m not the only one who had the idea to get here early. Marnie is decorating her own display – it’s right next to the one I’ve been assigned – and Shane’s tending to a pen full of animals next to the saloon. Further down the town square, Clint is polishing a bunch of weapons. While this is going on, tents are still being set up, and Lewis seems busy supervising that. 

“Nice to see you here so early!” Marnie greets me, a warm grin on her face. 

I smile back, grunting as I plop down my baskets and bins on the ground in front of my grange. “I don’t have much, so I wanted this to at least look nice.” I stand up straight, a tray of cornbread and some faux flowers in hand.

“Your first harvest was lovely,” she reassures me while I plop the cornbread dead-center into the display, “I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully today.” 

Marnie places a comforting hand on my shoulder, and as I place some flowers around the cornbread, I briefly lean my cheek down to her hand. “Thanks, I hope so.” 

Aside from the noises of us participants working and the carnies talking further away, the air is quiet. There’s barely a breeze today, and because of the chilly autumn air, not many critters are chirping. Every here and there, I merely hear a bunny or something scurrying around behind the buildings nearby.

By the time I’m finished setting everything up, most of the townspeople have flooded in. Must be 9 already. I’m proven correct as I hear a yawn and feel a hand on each of my shoulders, followed by a sharp chin on my head. 

“Mornin’,” Sebastian grumbles, inspecting my set-up.

“Hello, my love,” I cheerily greet him, tilting my head up to see him. I wiggle him off me, and he obliges, wrapping over to my side.

“Looks good,” he comments.

“I’d hope so. Got here, like, an hour and a half ago.”

“Gross.” 

“I know,” I agree, “So early…” I hug Seb’s arm and lean against it. “When does Lewis usually grade these things?” 

“You’ve got a few hours. Why don’t we walk around a bit?”

“Fuck yeah, let’s go.”

______________

Seb and I played a few games, hung out with his mom and Leah by their granges, and watched the shitty clown in pure horror for a bit. As more people from out of town began arriving, we retreated up near the community center to eat some of the stuff Gus has been grilling. 

“Feels way too early for barbecue.” Seb is still mad about being awake so early, understandably so. Was probably busy working late into the night. He looks super mopey as he bites down on his hot dog.

“It’sh sho good though…” I answer with my mouth full. I swear, I’ve never had a veggie burger that was so well-seasoned. Gus has to be some weird breed of food-wizard.

“Yeah, if there’s one perk to living here, it’s the food.” Seb takes another bite, then asks after swallowing, “Anything in particular you wanna check out next?”

“I dunno.” I peer over the bushes that line the short cliff overlooking town, and eyeball a tent that looks similarly decorated to the one Welwick had at the Calico Night Market. “I promised Welwick I’d pay her a visit, should probably do that sooner than later.” Peering back at Seb, I notice that he seems to be thinking hard. “What’s up?”

“Maybe I’ll go with you, this time, if that’s alright with you.”

Grinning, I nod with vigor. “Totally! You sure, though?”

He nods too. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and… I, like,” Seb pauses to get his thoughts together. “I don’t know if I want to be a wizard, considering how odd it still feels for me to be exposed to all this again.” That makes sense.

Nodding, I urge him to continue.

“But I don’t want to waste this weird gift either, if that makes any sense.” He shrugs, sorta to himself. “Seems less scary, now that I’m watching how well you’re adapting to it all. And also, I guess just seeing you have anything to do with it has been making me want to get involved…” His cheeks flush a little. “It would be cool if we could spend more time together when I’m not coding and you’re not farming, too.”

A little image of myself, Sebastian and Magnus working with one another in the tower flashes in my head. I feel butterflies in my tummy and get giddy with excitement – Was that a vision…? Or just positive thinking? – but do my best to hold it in. 

“That would be really nice,” I nearly squeak. So much for containing myself. “I’m sure Magnus would be happy to help, too. I’m not really good enough yet to feel comfortable showing you the ropes alone.” 

“Yeah, but I still have some things to sort out with him first.” He explains, “I really want to apologize for abandoning him.”

I take Seb’s hand – which was in a curled fist on the wooden picnic table – into both of mine, thumbing at his knuckles. “I’m sure you know by now that he’s literally, like, the sweetest person ever. He’ll probably understand.” 

After nodding, Seb lifts my hands to his lips, pecking my bent fingers. “I hope you’re right,” he mutters, his lips still against my knuckles. “Would be weird if you two start dating and there’s still some unfinished business going on with me and him.”

I snort. “Thank you for not saying ‘getting jiggy’ again.”

“I should’ve,” he tuts. “Wasted an opportunity there.”

I roll my eyes and tug him up. “Come on, let’s go see that witch.”

Fingers intertwined, we make our way down the stairs and through the crowd. We run into Victor and his mom, who is so fucking beautiful holy shit, who’s deep in conversation with Caroline and Jodi. I wonder where Abby and Sam are, that he’s not off hanging out with them…? Either way, Seb promises that we’ll come rescue him once we’re finished with our current business.

Welwick’s tent is set up close to the cemetery. Feels fitting, for her to not just be further away from all the hubbub, but to also be near something spooky.

What’s also fitting is that Magnus is here – not even trying to disguise himself – and speaking with her. I guess he really was serious about trying to integrate himself into the town more. Hopefully he didn’t scare anyone this time…

“Didn’t expect to see him here,” I whisper to Seb. I look up, and he’s taking a deep breath in. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he assures me with a squeeze of my hand. “Y’know what? This is perfect. It’ll force me to get that conversation out of the way.” 

“Want me to go grab him for you?” 

“Nah,” he shakes his head, still watching the elemental. Magnus has no idea we’re nearby, unless he’s just hiding it. “When you go up to the tent I’ll just sorta… break off with him, and work from there.” 

“Okie dokie,” I salute. We continue walking, and I clear my throat when we get closer.

Magnus peers up, and his eyes dart between Seb and I. He returns my grin, and offers a soft nod of the head to Seb.

“Hello,” he nervously greets us. “Er, I’ll be going–”

“Wait,” Seb prompts, and Magnus’ eyes flush pink. “Can… can we talk?” 

After a deep breath, Magnus nods. “Of course.” 

He says his goodbye to Welwick just as I’m releasing my hold on Seb’s hand, and we switch spots. I hope their conversation goes well. I’m sure it will, but who knows.

It’s funny seeing how Magnus towers over Seb when they’re side-by-side like that. Makes him look so tiny…

As I approach where Magnus was standing, I’m shocked and delighted to see Welwick’s hood down. Her dusty blue-gray hair flows in long, thick waves – easily down to the small of her back – with a thin braid framing each side of her face. Her pale ears, as pointed as I’d expected, are poking out of her hair and adorn a large sum of piercings. Finally, her eyes — which are just as wrinkled as I expected — look soft and sleepy and warm, with irises as blue as her signature cloak. 

“Greetings, my young friend!” The woman welcomes me with a wide smile. “That relic has been treating you well, I hope?” Welwick motions towards my necklace and I nod, clutching it on instinct. 

“Hi, yeah! I think I’ve started getting non-sleeping visions now, actually. Still hard to tell if it’s just my imagination or not.”

“Only time will tell. I hope it is as useful for you as it once was for me.”

“Thank you,” I smile shyly. I wonder if she really just wanted me to keep her company, rather than to discuss anything in particular, when she told me to stop by… so far it seems that way. “H-how’s your day been?” I offer.

“Lovely, thank you for inquiring. It’s always a delight to be in Pelican Town. The energies are fierce here – truly invigorating, indeed!”

“Is that just ‘cause of Magnus, or…?”

“Amongst other things, yes.” 

We continue to talk, exchanging pleasantries until she decides to dive more into her past (or, at least what she can remember of it). She’s clearly very stoked to hear about how recently I started my journey with all this arcane stuff, and to share her own experiences in any ways that can help or inspire me. It’s adorable.

We only halt our conversation when Seb and Magnus return. They were still speaking, both with a soft smile on their features, as they walked over to meet us. Made me feel all fuzzy. When Welwick sent me off, I half-expected her to tease me about Magnus (or even Magnus and Seb). Nothing came of it, though, which I’m thankful for; I’ve already experienced enough of that from Robin in regards to her son.

“So, uh…” I cut the short silence as we stroll a few feet over to the side before settling. Magnus must want to be somewhat hidden, considering how he seems to be confining himself to this small area. “You two made up, or whatever, I’m assuming?” I look back and forth between them, fidgeting with my necklace. 

Suddenly, I’m realizing how intimidating the prospect of possibly “being with” both of them is… it feels weird. Not a bad weird, but just something that’s gonna take getting used to. 

“Yeah,” Seb responds from my left, while Magnus’ “Indeed” sounds from my right side.

“Honestly it feels undeserved,” Seb adds, “but I’m happy we got to catch up a bit too.” 

“Likewise,” Magnus grins. He then peers down towards me, “You hadn’t mentioned you were acquainted with Lady Welwick. When did that occur?” 

I shrug. “I haven’t really had the chance. Happened the same day I met Camilla.”

“Ah, Camilla’s still bugging you?” Seb observes, gesturing with his head towards Magnus.

A hefty sigh and exasperated expression accompany the taller man’s nod. “Gave this poor girl quite a fright, too.”

“Was like a real life jumpscare.” I shudder. “She’s so… touchy.”

Popping his knuckles, Seb says, “Fuckin’ succubus, that lady.” I raise an eyebrow, and Seb shakes his head. He puts his hands up in defense for emphasis. “Nothing happened, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t try.” I tilt my head and nod, completely understanding. She did come off as very flirtatious.

“Is she the same way with you, Magnus?” I ask. 

“Not anymore, thankfully. It took that wretch ages to understand my ill feelings towards her outside of a professional exchange.” 

We fall into another silence. 

This is strange.

“Do you, uh, want to come walk around with us?” Seb asks Magnus. There’s a bit of a blush on his cheeks. I wonder if it’s out of mere embarrassment, or something more…

Y’know, I’ve had suspicions that he might’ve crushed on Magnus in the past, but what if it was more than a little crush? What if the feelings never went away? What if Seb’s jealousy at first was a combination of possessiveness over me, and envy that Magnus has feelings for me that weren’t returned to him?

Muuuch to consider.

Magnus shakes his head, rejecting Seb. “I’d like to slowly assimilate myself. It’s been quite a long time since I last attended the town’s festivities firsthand, rather than viewing from the sidelines.” 

“So creepy…” I teasingly whisper. 

“Hush,” Magnus grins, leaning down to softly elbow my shoulder. 

My brain heavily hones in on how he has to lean down for his elbow to get to my shoulder. 

I feel… so small…

Stop, (y/n). 

Sebastian nudges me too.

Fuck. I forgot he can feel when I’m, um... feeling. 

I grab his hand and squeeze it, gaze planted on the ground. My face feels hot.

I look up at Magnus inspecting me. He saves me the embarrassment of asking me what’s wrong, even telepathically, but I still feel my features burn darker. I drop my gaze again.

This is so strange.

I clear my throat. “See you around, then?” I offer, allowing Seb and I to part from him. 

“See you around, my deee–” Magnus’ gaze darts to Seb’s, and mine follows. 

“It’s okay,” he chuckles, rolling his eyes.

“...my dear.” It comes out as just barely audible.

Another silence leads me to finally verbalizing what I’ve been thinking. “This is so strange.”

They both hum an agreement in unison, before Seb and I depart.

A few seconds later, I halt.

My partner looks back at me, tilting his head in confusion and stopping in his tracks. “What’s up baby?”

“Didn’t you wanna meet Welwick?”

He thinks about it, then replies, “Not anymore. I’ve had enough magic-talk for the day.”

“You got it.” I give him a thumb up, and then we continue onward.

A few more minutes of perusing the crowd for our friends go by, before we eventually just wind up back at my grange. 

Seb pipes up, “We, um… we talked about you, and us, and all that.”

“Yeah?” I prompt, fidgeting with the ends of one of my braids.

“Yeah.” He sighs. “This is new to me, and apparently somewhat new for Magnus too… but we’ll make it work, ‘kay?” 

I shrug, keeping my eyes on my fingers and hair; feeling nervous and unsure after our group interaction, given how unnerving it seemed to be for all three of us. 

“Hey.” Seb tilts my face up by the chin, forcing me to look at him. “Even if nothing’s romantic with him and I, we both want things to work for you.” 

Seb leans down, stealing my mouth in a kiss. 

“I love you so much, and I can tell how much he cares about you,” he kisses me again before continuing, “so I’m ready to take all the time you need to get used to it.” He kisses me again, before murmuring against my lips, “Alright, princess?” Oh. This man has me in a complete trance. 

His opposite hand comes up to cup my cheek, the one that was on my chin staying in place. I nod within his grasp, unable to find words, and he kisses me again, more passionately this time. It’s embarrassing – we’re surrounded by people, both familiar to us and strangers – but there’s no avoiding the way I completely melt into Seb’s sweet lips and gentle touch. 

…Until we hear someone clear their throat beside us. 

My eyes shoot open, and both of our heads whip to the side. Mayor Lewis is standing there, one hand on his hip and the other clutching his clipboard to his chest. Must be judgment time.

“Please, save that for elsewhere,” Lewis scolds us. 

Unable to meet his face, I mutter an apology as I shift myself away from Seb. 

______________

Unsurprisingly, I didn’t get first place amongst the farmers. That prize went to that Susan lady, who had an absolute unit of a pumpkin in her own display. Second went to Marnie, and third to myself. 

I’m glad I at least beat Pierre.

Lewis had some nice things to say about the food I brought with me, but ultimately, he wanted higher quality, farm-grown produce as well as more variety. I suppose it’s pretty obvious that I just scrounged up what I could to toss in my box, but I’d hoped what I had would’ve earn me less critique than he gave me. I think he was still feeling grumpy about Seb and I having an impromptu snog-sesh out in the open.

Abby and Sam had apparently rescued Victor and brought him to hide in Sam’s yard, which is why Seb and I had such a hard time scoping them out. After receiving the memo, Seb and I stayed by them for a while. 

Seb and Sam smoked and tossed a half-deflated beach ball around , and Vic lamented over how badly he wanted a hit, but couldn’t with his mother nearby. In the meantime, Abby and I sat against the fence neighboring Emily and Hailey’s place and talked about the most recent Prairie King news (DLC, babyyy).

Victor had to leave sorta early with his super hot mom, and once people started to clear out, Sam and Abby went inside for some kinda band stuff they’re working on. They invited me in, but feeling tuckered out from the day, I turned down the offer. Seb, on the other hand, was going to meet them there later. Already promised Robin he’d help her carry things home. After seeing those two off – they both refused my help, those stubborn little fucks – I opted to start cleaning up my grange.

Just as I began peering around for certain red-headed, forest-dwelling, art-making queen so I could give back this huge mushroom she found for me to submit, Magnus snuck up on me.

“What are you searching for, dearest?”

Dearest?! 

Also, “Holy fuuu—“

Jas was about to run past us to see what Marnie’s up to, but she stuttered once she reached Magnus’ side. Her eyes bulged as she viewed Magnus’ towering form, then she continued her trek.

I scan the area quickly, and the adults nearby — with the exception of Andy — seem to pay no mind to Magnus. I wonder if they know of him, or if they just don’t care enough to gawk at the height, ears, and weirdly colored skin. He’s at least in normal clothing and uncloaked, so that’s probably helping. 

I didn’t have a chance to admire his outfit when we interacted earlier this afternoon, but now that I’m viewing him in a turtleneck for the first time, I have to stop myself from ogling a bit.  

“Uhhh,” I draw out the sound as I try and think up a replacement to show my fear and replace my fluster without cursing. I’ve got nothing. I grunt instead. “What’s with you and popping up seemingly out of nowhere all the time?” 

“For the reactions, of course.”

“Oh, of course!” I sarcastically remark, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Prick.”

He grins. “How did you fare?”

“Third,” I whine, shrugging. “What about you?” I look the wizard up and down, “You’re awfully elementally, considering you’re out in the open today. I didn’t get a chance to ask about that earlier.”

As he responds, I set the mushroom aside and pile the faux flowers into the container I’d brought them over in. “It would be a tremendous burden to disguise myself as a mundane every time I leave the tower.”

“And if Abby recognizes you?” I smirk. I don’t know if she would, considering how nervous she seemed to be the night she met him as Mark, but it’s still funny to imagine the possibility. 

“I will simply wipe her memory.”

“You can do that?”

“No.”

“Wait, what?”

“What?“

“Then… how would…” I meet Magnus’ eyes again, and they’re riddled with mischief. Oh. He’s fucking with me. 

I roll my eyes and snort. I wonder if spending today around another elemental (who isn’t Camilla) is what has him acting all silly, compared to how timid he seemed earlier on. Just as I’m about to playfully insult the man and request a legitimate answer, I hear footsteps approaching. I look to my left, and see Leah sloppily making her way towards us. Her cheeks are rosy, and she has some sway in her step. 

Robin did mention that the poor girl didn’t score very well… 

I guess she drank about it.

“Ah, I was just looking for you before!” I exclaim.

“Y’were?” 

“Mhm!” I grab the chanterelle and present it to Leah with a dramatic bow. “Your fungus, m’lady.”

She curtsies (to the best of her ability, being in pants), and lilts, “Oh, why thank youuu, beautiful.”

Beautiful?

My cheeks redden. 

She winks. Fuck. She’s stunning.

I squeak.

Magnus quietly chuckles behind me, reading me like a goddamn book.

Blissfully ignorant to my swooning, Leah points over my shoulder with the mushroom in her hand. My eyes widen, and I turn back around towards Magnus. He seems nervy all of the sudden – must be remembering the painful interaction he had with Leah a few days ago.

“Hello,” he softly offers.

“What,” Leah clears her throat, “what isss swayin', canis lupus familiaris?!” She starts giggling wildly, as if she just made the sickest burn.

“Leah!” I can’t help but laugh with her as I grab the wrist that’s still hovering near my face and lightly shove it back towards her. “Don’t be a dick!”

“You command, whilst nearly in tears of laughter,” Magnus narrates. 

It was pretty funny… A hearty snort escapes my nose before I apologize, covering my face with my hands and leaning my back against the table my display sits atop. The pig-like noise prompts him to laugh along with us. 

“Did I not sound like’im?”

“No!” Magnus and I answer in unison. 

I rub my forehead. “You wanna come to my place ‘til you sober up?” I offer her. “You can stay over if you want.”

“I’m fiiiine.”

After shoving the shroom into the front pocket on her green corduroy overalls, Leah moves closer and puts both her hands on my shoulders. It’s clear she’s using me to keep herself balanced while she tries to put on a serious facade. I plop my palms onto her fingers, letting her borrow me for a sec.

“Where’s Elliott?” I ask. Maybe he could take care of her.

“He went back to th’beach with Willy.” Leah stops to hiccup a little, then pouts. “So mean, that one.”

I chuckle, sarcastically responding, "Ah. So mean."

“Let me teleport you home, at the very least,” the wizard to my left and her right offers. 

I scrunch my nose, peering up at him with uncertainty. “Would that be a good idea? What if she hurls?”

Magnus winces. “Ah, yes, that’s a fair—“ 

“Okay, sure, I’ll do that!”

Our eyes shoot to Leah. “I th-thought you were scared of him,” I claim, in a poor attempt to save Magnus from the curious drunk.

“Naw, he’s just a little weird, thas’all!” 

“How… relieving?” the wizard tentatively responds.

I throw Magnus an apologetic smile, then transfer Leah’s limp hands into his own. “Good luck,” I murmur to him. Then, I put a palm on Leah’s shoulder, and order her, “Lee, until you’re home, do not let go of him.”

“Mmmmhm, yes ma’am.” She winks again. Even through her bumbling, it’s still a gorgeous, tummy-fluttering sight.

I shove my face in my hands again. Magnus clears his throat, urging me to meet his maroon gaze. I do so with my hands still comfortingly cupping my pinkened cheeks. “Come see me in the morning?”

“‘Kay.” I mirror his soft smile, before he vanishes with Leah in tow.

[loserclubowergang]

It Fandom Week July 15- Moral Ambiguity

@itfandomweek​

Title:  My truth and your truth

Sumary:  “I will not testify for Henry Bowers to get out of a sanitarium, he deserves to be there”

“Jupiter Asylum is torture chamber not a sanatorium."

Characters: Henry Bower(mention), Connor Bowers, Richie Totzier

Warning: f-slur,  mentions of abuse,  homophobia, death of a character

One-shot / Moodboard

Richie had been a comedian for 4 years now and he slowly began to feel that his career was growing, he was not famous but every day he felt that he was making a name among comedians. Being on stage  made him feel alive.

And while his professional life was going well, his personal life felt empty, it wasn't that he didn't have friends, he did, but his friendships felt false in some way, as if he couldn't really connect with them. Richie, although he didn’t remember them,  unconsciously seeks a bond like the one he had with the losers' club, a bond that was in fact impossible to recreate outside of Derry.

And every now and then he thought not being a comedian and living in Derry would have been worth it if he could still have friends. Real friends

But those were silly ramblings. Because even more than having friends his biggest problem was not that, no, when Richie dared to be honest with himself could he accept he never allowed himself to connect with anyone because he did not accept something important about himself.

And that's why he was here, he had come for the last 3 months to this place not daring to do anything more than order a drink at the bar. Sitting at the bar he looked at the rest of people on the dance floor, people dancing, kissing and having fun as if the world outside didn’t hate them .Richie took another sip from his glass while a man with curly blond hair was sat next to him, Richie thought to speak to him but did not put his courage together

"My name is Connor"

Richie looked at him in surprise

"Richie"

"Nice name, can I buy you a drink?”

Richie couldn't help but smile, this was unreal to him, a boy was flirting with him in a gay bar and he felt good, for the first time in a long time things felt in their place.

Connor was a lawyer , had his same age, was passionate about video games and comics and was the first person since he left Derry with Richie felt he had been able to connect, time passed quickly and before noticing were outside the Pub.

“You have something to do? Connor smiled

“Not really" Richie smiled

"Would you like to go to my apartment?"

"Yes, I would like to” Richie felt brave and confident for once as he followed Connor to his apartment.

The night had a happy ending, the real problems began the next morning.

Richie opened his eyes and realized that the night before had really happened, he couldn't help but smile as he looked at Connor lying next to him, Richie got up and looked at the room Connor's room , if it weren't for the bed, the room would look like an investigation office, there was a desk  full of papers and photos, from his work, Richie supposed, and hanging in front of the desk a cork board, without the glasses he couldn't quite discern what the papers or the photos on the board were, but getting a little closer Betty Ripsom's missing poster became clear, then George Denbrough and the rest of the missing children in the summer of 88,  he did not know what the rest of the documents were, but among all the papers he finally distinguished a different photo , the photo of Henry Bowers being arrested. 

Richie felt sick.

A sound behind him made him turn around, Connor had risen from the bed and was looking at him with a smile.

Richie looked in horror at the man in front of him. He felt he had no voice, no courage to ask.

“What is your name?”

He smiled.

“Connor Bowers at your service.”

 He had a flirty look that Richie would have love if he did not feel that his head was spinning, and at any time he would end up throwing up

“Bowers, as in?”

Connor then noticed what Richie had been watching, Connors smiles disappeared, he look at him with bitterness, understanding what just happened.

“Yes, like Henry Bowers, he is my cousin.”

Richie saw everything black and could barely think "well at least I didn't throw up" as he passed out. 

Richie opened his eyes slowly, his gaze was blurry but he knew it was from the lack of glasses, Connor was on the floor next to him,   his blue eyes looking at him with concern.

“Are you good?”

“Yes , I forgot to put my glasses on in the morning and that causes me vertigo, don't worry.”

Connor looked at him incredulously once Richie was composed enough to sit on the floor noticed that Connor had the gaze on his cork board , time lines time of the summer when everything happened, roles of prosecutors, claims against Jupiter Hill , petitions for a new trial and another pile of papers that had not achieved anything, they were years of working on something that seemed to not get anywhere, every day of work that did not achieve anything he considered himself to stop trying but Connor knew he could not , Henry was his only living family and even more important it was an injustice what his cousin had experienced.

Connor helped Richie to sit on the bed where they had slept and bit his lip, maybe it was not appropriate to ask but his case had been stalled for months and maybe he could help him .

"So you're from Derry?"

Richie still felt sick , that summefr had turned his head very abruptly, the memories were more neat in some way but the were too bizarre to be true, there wasn’t  a monster in the sewers of Derry, they were only children’s fantasies, right? It had to be, the only monster in Derry was indeed Henry Bowers, and he had just slept with his cousin, Richie felt like he was going to throw up but forced himself not to.

"Yes, I lived there until I was 17"

"So you were there the summer of 88" Connor knew he was pushing his luck, the people of Derry hated talking about that summer, so many people died that summer that it was almost impossible not having lost someone close in the process. Just knowing his last name, the Derry people wanted to kill him, but Richie didn't seem like that kind of person.

"Yes, I was." Richie went away and Connor looked blurry without his glasses but still her mind recognized or as the guy in Arcade , Richie recalled that afternoon that feeling of being out of place had begun for him, he no longer wanted to be here , all this brought back bad memories, memories of things that should not have happened . The Neibolt house, the clown, Eddie breaking his arm.

God, Eddie, how he was able to forget Eddie?

"If you were there, you could answer a few quick questions?"

Richie wanted to shout no and get out of there, get out as far as possible and not think of Derry, or Henry Bowers, or the summer of '88, but the blurred images of Eddie were becoming clearer in his memories and he felt that if he left the department he would forget him again and he did not want that, he wanted to remember Eddie

"I think so."

Connor smiled, it seemed to fill him with hope that he could do this, Connor began to ask questions of Derry, people, places and events that Richie thought were forgotten but were really only hidden in his memory, for the first time in many years Richie remembered the Losers club, he remembered Stan's face and Bill's stuttering voice, and he clearly remembered Eddie and everything he'd ever felt for him. 

And along with those memories of Eddie, the feelings of guilt and shame, feelings that he had unknowingly carried him all his life, feelings that ended up consuming him the day that the man asking him questions in front of him had unnecessarily and cruelly rejected him.

The humiliation of having Henry Bowers yell at him that he was a fag, and the fear that everyone believed it, because it was true.

The shame, fear and guilt that day had gone from being a brief feeling every time he wished to kiss Eddie to becoming a weight that would hold him back the rest of his life.

Connor's voice pulled him out of the storm of memories that was his mind.

“Can you testify in court?”

Connor looked at him hopefully, Richie wanted to throw up

"No."

"Why?"

“I will not testify for Henry Bowers to get out of a sanitarium, he deserves to be there”

“Jupiter Asylum is torture chamber not a sanatorium."

“That is not my fault.”

“You can’t be so apathetic with the suffering of people.”

“I can be apathetic with the suffering of my abuser."

There was a horrible silence between the two, Richie had anger in his eyes, and Connor looked at him sadly.

"I'm very sorry for whatever Henry did to hurt you, but his penance is not equivalent to his crime."

Jupiter Hill was a torture room, in addition to the lack of real psychiatric and medical treatment, the nurses seemed to have fun electrocuting patients as pseudo therapy or leaving them sedated for days, patients in Jupiter Hill were constantly physical and verbal assaults and that was just the abuse that they let see with a simple glance. Of course, all this was ignored by the people since the inmates at Jupiter Hill were criminals before they were people and they did not deserve a human treatment, let's not even mention appropriate help to deal with their mental illnesses.

Seeing Henry terrified of the guards and nurses on Jupiter Hill was the most painful thing that Connor was forced to see, it made him see that Henry had never been able to escape from the abuses and terrors that he had lived through his childhood.

"You don't know how difficult it has been for me to forget what your cousin put me through, I don't have a reason to help him” 

Richie looked at him with disdain, if Henry was having a bad time, good, he deserved it. and if the justice system did his job badly and the mental hospitals were torture chamber , it was a shame but it was not his problem.

Connor watched him with hate, but what he really felt was tired, he was so fucking tired, tired and sad to have this discussion, to listen to one person after another talking about Henry like a monster, the people of Derry always talked about him as if they had not allowed a child to live for years with someone as aggressive and cruel as Oscar Bowers , as if Henry had never talked about seeing shadows and hearing strange noises , they spoke as if there was no way to stop Henry from getting worse every day

“Henry was 14 , he was a kid. And they made him carry all the adult mistakes. "

Richie already knew that , Henry had been a scapegoat for the incompetence of the Derry police,  and it was difficult to look back, to think about the children they were, it was difficult to remember Henry as a child and not as his bully, it was difficult because the adult in him knew it was the right thing to do but the child who was still hurt and terrified did not care what was right  because Henry did not deserve his forgiveness after what he had put him through

“Yes, you are right, we were children and it is not fair but it’s not my problem and I am not going to help him."

Connor looked at him with disbelieve.

“Do you really want to be that kind of adult? The one who ignores that something bad is happening and washes his hands. "

Richie felt a stroke of guilt because he was exactly the kind of grown-up to fill the streets of Derry, the kind of grown-up who would let the life of a 14-year-old become hell and at the same time leave behind a child killer loose , because it seemed more comfortable than doing the right thing.

"No,  is not the kind of adult I want to be, but sadly  is the person I am, and I am not proud but I am not going to help him, because honestly it makes me a little happy that he is having a bad time "

Connor, if he had been the same boy from long ago, would have broken his nose for his cynicism, but he bit his lip and swallowed his anger.

"Get out of my house."

"As you like."

Richie took his things and left the place, the further he went , the experience became more surreal, almost as if he had dreamed it.

Over the weeks  go back Richie have more difficult to remember what had happened at Connors house until just one  day he did not remember at all and all memories of Derry would become buried imagines again and Richie did not return to think about Connor or Henry Bowers until he stuck an ax in Henrys head in order to save Mike and for a second all the memories of that day came back, looking at the corpse of Henry Bowers he feel the worst remorse he had ever experienced in his life, in part because if he had helped Connor Henry might not be here, but especially because  Connor would never know what had happened to his cousin, the remorse was overwhelming , Richie took a breath and forced himself not to cry, he again felt sick like that day at Connor's house, even worse, this time he couldn't help throwing up.

Who knows , maybe if he had helped Henry, they would have been able to escape the control of It, maybe the good actions have their reward, because seeing Henry's corpse and seeing himself having to face the damn clown again, he realized that when you washed your hands and ignored the problem it doesn't solve a shit.

[morethanalittleconfused]

I accidentally wrote a 5k fanfic about incidents caused aboard the ghost by differences between species

I've been reading a lot of those old tumblr posts that are like “what if humans are actually just really, really hardy and alien species would be just completely blown away with the shit we put up with without a second thought” and it's got me thinking about the crew of the Ghost trying to get used to each other at first with three humans that are all just absolutely fucking insane, even more so than even your average human.

Rebels spoilers ahead, as well as a trigger warning for blood, vomit and general injuries

It starts with Hera and Kanan. It’s just the two of them, aboard the Ghost, and it takes some getting used to.

At first Hera is shocked by the way Kanan's body seemingly has no limits. He has never once complained about the temperature of the ghost, even when they were running low on power and Hera could feel her limbs start to get sluggish from the cold. Two weeks later he somehow managed to find his way back to the ghost after being in -2 degree Celsius weather for a half an hour with no coat on. When he walked back through the hatch with snow blowing in his loose hair and a red nose and said “it's cold as shit out there” after Hera had been panicking about losing him for the literal entire time, she had to practically scrape her jaw off of the floor. She would have been dead after a few minutes, and yet here he was, now steaming from a shower and shirtless, bitching about how the caf maker was broken.

As time went on, she learned his body did have some limits to the heat. At about 35 degrees he got irritable and short, but that was about when she started getting uncomfortably warm, too. But he would tolerate it. And more. He kept impressing her with the things he somehow managed to pull off, in conditions she would have thought would kill him. He could get knocked around far more than she thought he should be able to, and would haul himself back to the ship with a grin every time.

The way his body worked constantly surprised her. She noticed it first in how quickly he healed, and in how much he ate.

He could eat literally anything. Things she thought were poisonous for most species. He loved chocolate, and would easily eat ten times the amount that would send her to the hospital to get her stomach pumped. He could withstand a ridiculous amount of alcohol, and could drink unprocessed coffee with no problem by the cup. Caf didn't seem to really affect him because his body processed it so fast. And he ate so. Much. it was ridiculous. The good thing was it didn't really seem to matter what.

Hera didn't need much food, but it had to be good. It had to count. Too much filler and she would lose strength. Her body couldn't process a lot, and if what she got wasn't exactly what she needed, her health went downhill, quick.

Kanan was not the same. He could, and would, eat anything. He didn't have any noticeable preference for plants or meat, or the quality of the food. If he could get his hands on it, he would eat it. He would eat food out of the refrigerator she would have considered to be dangerous. He put appalling amounts of random, unrelated food in a pan, cooked it, and acted like that was an acceptable thing to do. Omelets? She hated the very idea but he seemed to think they were wonderful.

And yet, for all that, they had once been stranded for over a week with only enough rations for one, and Kanan had insisted that she take the vast majority of the ration bars. She pushed back, and he then presented her with the absolutely shocking fact that humans can survive for over a month with no food. She was absolutely flabbergasted, and he took advantage of her stunned silence to press another ration into her hand, smirk at her and say, “I can take it. Trust me.”

Another thing she noticed very quickly was how fast he healed.

He could be bleeding openly one minute, and the wound seemed to close itself the next. She knew human blood had clotting factors far beyond that of nearly any other being, but it was ridiculous how fast he sealed himself up. Further into their relationship she got to see this close up when she accidentally touched some of his congealed blood on the floor of the refresher after cleaning him up. She had had to turn away and take a few deep breaths at the slimy, gelatinous texture. He had gently huffed out a laugh.

“Kinda gross huh?”

“Yeah... it's… unique.”

“I've always been kind of fascinated by the way it congeals so quickly. Handy I guess.”

Out of sheer curiosity she had run the end of a pen through the small puddle and been horrified to see that it mostly stuck together.

“It just… does that? Inside you? And that doesn't cause problems?”

“It can. If it clots when it's not supposed to. But mostly it keeps me alive.”

And it did. And though she wouldn't say it to his face, his ability to pull through seemingly anything took just one more worry off her plate. His wounds would be almost completely closed in often under a week, where she would have been dealing with bandages and salves for a month. He almost never got infections, and could keep going with seemingly incapacitating injuries.

They had once narrowly escaped a fight with a gang of imps and made it back to the ghost with almost no problems. She had a sprained ankle, so he had supported her most of the way there, and they had patched up each other's scrapes. He had needed a bit of training so he didn't just slap a bandaid on what could have been a potentially life threatening injury for her, but he did alright. It was only later, when they were sitting in the cockpit, well into hyperspace, and he had coughed suddenly, when things went sideways. She turned to see blood seeping out of the corner of his mouth, and more on his hand when he pulled it away. They both looked at it for a moment, then Hera almost blacked out as a sudden wave of adrenaline washed over her.

“Kanan you're- are you- let me make the calc- are you dying?”

“What? Oh- no I had thought I just cracked a few of my ribs but it would appear I must have broken at least one of them.”

“BROKEN? Your bone? Like in half?”

“I- yeah?”

“Chopper we need to get to the nearest med center right now. Tell them were coming. I dont care if its a fucking imperial light cruiser”

“Wait no lets not be hasty-”

“HASTY? YOU BROKE YOUR BONES KANAN”

“Okay i know it looks bad but really i'm not going to keel over and die right now. Make sure it's a safe med center and cheap too. I can wait.”

“Kanan your bones are literally broken.”

“Yeah. It's happened before and it will happen again. I've broken my arm twice. I've broken one of the bones in my lower leg. A couple toes. At least one finger. And don't even get me started on my nose. It didn't always look like this.” At that he had huffed out a small laugh, but then winced and brought a hand to his lower chest. Almost as an afterthought, he reached down and pulled up the hem of his shirt. She had started to avert her eyes at the sliver of hip he showed, but as he pulled the shirt up higher and revealed more, she felt the breath taken out of her. His skin was mottled a whole host of awful colors, angry and puffy. He coughed that wet cough again and said, “Maybe I do need a med center after all”

She was incredibly relieved when they dropped out of hyperspace and into the welcoming arms of medicine. She was less happy when Kanan was returned to her, that night no less, with only bandages around his chest and a note to “take it easy for a while” she was appalled to say the least.

His ridiculously resilient body sometimes created just as many problems as it solved, though. He got into bar fights after downing enough alcohol to kill a bantha, and got the piss kicked out of him. He ran headfirst into danger with little consideration for life or limb. He was reckless, and incredibly hotheaded, and overall behaved like a clown. She had no idea how the Jedi accepted humans into their ranks, if Jedi he was. Restraint, my ass.

His recklessness applied to food as well. He didn't really seem to mind what he ate, content with the knowledge that if it didn’t work out, he could always regurgitate it back up. Twi’leks could not vomit, like many other species. It was yet another bizarre human trait. The ability to purge substances from your body without them having to pass through your entire digestive tract and cause more issues had always seemed like a neat trick to Hera. That is, of course, until she saw it in action.

She was roused one night by a strange noise coming from the refresher, and she had padded to the door, only to find it open. Blinking in the harsh light, she saw Kanan curled on the floor, wearing no shirt. His hair was loose and hanging around his face, and he was panting heavily. She only had time to say “Kanan, what-” before he coughed and vomited into the bowl.

Her immediate reaction ricocheted from “Oh my god he's dying” to “I’m actually going to die just having to witness this” to “Oh stars he is actually dying” so fast she could barely process it. She was immediately horrified but had no idea how to help him.

“Kanan are you- do you need a medic? How- chop- CHOPPER! How do I help you? Are you hurt?”

He had turned and peered up at her with puffy eyes and a runny nose. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He tried to talk but his voice came out too rough and he had to try again. Even then it was strangely thick.

“Hera? Are you okay?”

“Am I okay? Am I okay Kanan? You're in here dying for stars sake and I have no idea how to help you and where the hell is chopper-”

“Hey. hey.” He turned away for a moment and took a long breath in through his nose. “Calm down for a sec. I feel like shit so you're going to have to talk slower. Are you hurt or something?”

“Hurt? No I'm not hurt i’m just- you- you're in here- I don’t even know-”

He closed his eyes and took another long breath in through his nose.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah i’m just… trying really hard not to throw up again.”

“Oh.”

He opened his eyes again and looked up at her again.

She shifted against the door frame. “But you're… okay? This isn't life threatening?”

He huffed out a soft laugh, then seemed to immediately regret it as he dropped his head between his knees for a moment. Then he cleared his throat and tipped his head back up.

“No. I'm good, I just ate something bad at that pub. And I also probably drank a bit too much as well. But I think it was definitely the squids fault.”

“Oh. So this is… normal?”

“More so than I would like. Yes.”

“Okay so…” she took a deep breath to calm her nerves now that it was apparent he wasn't in any imminent danger. “Do you need anything? How can I help you?”

“Some tea maybe. Some crackers. Anything ginger you have. It'll work itself out with time.”

She stood in the door, unsure of what to do, wanting to help him, and watched as he drew a quick breath in and closed his eyes again.

“Hera. Tea. Now”

“Right.”

As she dashed to the kitchen she heard the sounds of retching from behind her.

  There were some strange things about humans that became interesting as their relationship developed beyond mere captain and crew. His hair, for example. At first she had thought it was appalling, the sheer volume of it. It was everywhere. But all it took was threading her hands through it a few times, and hearing the wonderful noises he made, before she quickly changed her opinion.

Related to his hair was the fact that humans seemed to enjoy a certain level of pain, which she could not understand. He would moan audibly when she tugged at his hair, which startled her the first time, in the best way. Once, when she was feeling particularly adventurous, she had dragged her sharp canines across the delicate skin of his throat, and had been surprised to find the taste of metal filling her mouth, sharp and bright. She was even more surprised at the way he had shuddered and come apart beneath her, just like that.  

Then, later, when Zeb and Sabine joined the crew, there was yet another learning curve as Hera adjusted to another human as well as a Lasat, and Zeb adjusted to Kanan and Sabine at the same time.

Sabine was just as reckless. She was a fighter too, but she didn't have the force to help her out. Hera had more than a few small heart attacks in the early days of Sabine's presence before she fully appreciated that she could take almost as much of a beating as Kanan. Sabine had once walked over a half a mile back to the ship with a broken leg, and when Hera pressed her on just how she managed to do that, Sabine had gotten quickly tired of the argument, ending it with a, “I don't know what to tell you, Hera! I didn't have any other options! I had to do it, so I did.”

Hera was used to most of Kanan's strange human quirks, but Sabine presented a new and entirely alarming one, which Hera first came in contact with on a supply run. Sabine needed a monthly supply of medical supplies. Hera knew very little about menstruation, as that was a trait entirely unique to human females. Why their biology decided that it was necessary was completely beyond Hera, it seemed incredibly inefficient. Sabine made as little fuss about it as possible, but Hera had embarrassed everyone about three months in when Sabine asked hera to go get her data pad from her room. Hera had burst back into the common room, and only then was able to identify the smell Sabine was carrying with her that had been tugging at the edges of Hera’s mind all day. Blood. She turned on Sabine with a very distressed, “Sabine are you injured? Are you sick?”

To which Sabine had responded, with a distinct note of confusion, “No? Why?”

And Hera, without thinking, had said, “There's blood all over your bed? Did you hurt yourself?”

Sabine had gaped at her for a moment, then blushed ever so slightly. “I uh- I forgot to wash my sheets after... Sorry. I forgot about that before I told you to go into my room.”

Hera still had not connected the dots and was opening her mouth to further interrogate Sabine as to why her bedsheets were covered in blood when Kanan had jumped up and said, “Hera! Let's go for a walk, yes?” and pulled her gently out of the room, but not before she heard Zeb turn to Sabine and say, “So, why were you bleeding?”

Zeb apparently hadn't had much contact with the more alarming of the humans' quirks, as he had his own room, until Ezra showed up. Then Zeb had to learn for himself just how absolutely wild human biology was for himself. He arguably had a rougher go of it, because while he had the rest of the crew to help him out, he was literally sharing a room with a teenage human.

The first time Ezra got food poisoning was just about as rough for Zeb as it was for Kanan and Hera, except it happened in Zebs room.  Ezra was mostly self-sufficient, but Zeb had come hollering down the hall. He had broken the “do not open my door without knocking” rule Hera kept firmly in place, but she couldn't even be mad at him. Hera was just glad Kanan had been in his own bed that night. She had woken to see Zeb standing in her door, his fur standing up like a spine down his back, one ear folded inside out, panting hard.

“Hera the kid- he’s- I don’t know what the fuck happened but he- I think he’s hurt- or- or something but I don’t know how to help him- it’s Ezra-”

At which point Kanan, who had been woken by Zebs racket, slid open his door wearing only his sleep pants. He took one moment to assess the situation, looked down the hall and said, “Oh, Ezra’s throwing up. Do you want me to take care of him, Hera?”

Hera sighed and got up from her bed.

“No, you get Zeb some tea or something. I've learned well enough how to hold hair back at this point.”

Zeb, still looking entirely horrified by the situation, allowed himself to be led into the galley by Kanan. Sabine poked her head out of her door, decided this crisis did not involve her, and went back to sleep.

The same situation had happened the first time Ezra had gotten a bloody nose in the middle of the night. It was the kind Hera had witnessed with Kanan, and knew firsthand how horrifying it was if one didn't know humans noses just Did That sometimes. It was a middle of the night kind of bloody nose, where Ezra had presumably woken up with blood all over his face and in his mouth and in his hair and on his sheets, and had tried to catch the blood in his hands, which was all well and good until he somehow had to get down from the top bunk and open two doors to get to the refresher. That left Zeb to wake up to a room smelling of blood, with blood on the floor, on the door panel, and a trail leading to the refresher where he found Ezra leaning over the sink which was also, conveniently, covered in blood. All it had taken was for Ezra to turn his face toward the creature standing in the door and say “Zeb?” before Zeb was hurtling down the hall in a panic, calling for Kanan to come help him because the kid was dying.

Sabine, who had been up working on a project, was the first to respond to this particular “The human is dying!” call. She took one look at Ezra, standing in his pajamas with blood on his hands and said, “That sucks,” and turned back to her room.

Hera, who was making her way down the hall to check on if Ezra really was dying this time, had the pleasure of seeing Sabine turn back and say, “If you want a tampon to stop up the bleeding, they're in the bottom left drawer.” This worked surprisingly well at stopping Ezras bloody nose, because he was blushing so hard there was no blood left for his nose. Hera turned back to comfort Zeb, telling him she had reacted the exact same way the first time Kanan had woken up with a bloody nose. She saw him come out of his panic in time to realize she had effectively confessed to sleeping with Kanan, but wisely decided not to say anything. Nothing he didn't already know.

The humans were absolutely bizarre to spend time around. They ended up installing a wall in the galley that had live plants in it, not because they needed fresh plants to eat, but because their brain chemicals got thrown off if they weren't around plants for too long.

They had empathy for everything. Hera had once witnessed Ezra cry in a market when they passed a fruit stand with a deformed Meiloorun. When Hera asked why he was crying, he had looked up at her with these huge eyes, sniffed, and said, “I just feel so bad for it! No one will buy it!” They had, of course, bought it. Kanan tried not to get attached to anything, but he apologized for bumping into inanimate objects, and Sabine got visibly sad when they had to throw out a good piece of gear because it was broken or old.

They all three loved swimming. They were awful at it, just barely flopping around on the surface, but any time they were near even relatively safe water, they were in it, having the time of their lives. Kanan had once explained to Hera that humans have an extra fun little bit of evolution called the mammalian dive reflex, which slows their heart rate and lowers their blood pressure when they are in water, making it calming and enjoyable. Hera was skeptical until she watched Ezra calmly floating down a river on his back and wished she had that, instead of feeling nothing but panic anytime she had to float in water.  

They were mimics. They could replicate a stunning array of sounds, from animals to tech. Ezra's favorite way of annoying her was to make the noises her ship made when something went wrong, just to see how much she would panic before she realized it was him. They would sing along to anything, even if it was just instruments, and Hera would never admit it, but she loved Kanan's voice.

They could sleep anywhere. One of her favorite memories was walking around Chopper Base after a particularly exhausting mission and finding the three of them, Kanan in the middle, with one kid leaning on either shoulder, asleep, leaning against a crate. They had looked so peaceful, and yet she was again surprised at them. It was far too cold for her to even consider sleeping, there were fighters landing only a few hundred meters away, people running all over, and they were snoozing with smiles on their faces, just glad to be home.

And humans would pack bond with literally anything. She had thought Kanan was bad until she met Ezra. It was ridiculous. Her father had said that she was improper for developing a fondness for a droid, but the kid formed a relationship with everything that moved. It got them out of a few tight spots, sure, but she would never get used to having to sit still as some enormous predator loomed in their faces. The sight of Ezra staring down a cat the size of the ghost on some jungle planet, the cat's fangs mere inches from his face as it huffed at him, was something she would never forget.

They were wild and hard headed and strong and made her life so much more interesting.

Early on, Kanan’s strange human ability to adapt to seemingly anything had been a momentary point of contention between the two of them, and was still something she struggled with. It took time for her to be okay with the fact that humans and Twi’leks were just built differently. But it frustrated Hera how weak she felt compared to him. It infuriated her the way he could just walk off something that would have killed her. She had always striven to be adaptable and up for anything. She was strong, and she knew it. But she felt her inadequacies sharply next to Kanan. Early in their partnership they had been in the galley repairing themselves from yet another fight, when Hera had turned to see Kanan casually sewing his own skin up with a needle. The way he could just puncture his own skin like that, with nothing more than a wince and a hiss of breath, had made her see red for a moment and she had to excuse herself to the cockpit to take a breath. They had talked about it, and he had helped her to realize that she was, of course, strong. Humans were adapted differently, so it was entirely unfair for her to be comparing them. But they could compare emotionally, and she was one of the strongest people he had ever had the pleasure of knowing. The two of them were forged in war, and had been through incredible things. She had fought prejudice and overcome so many obstacles to get to where she was, the best pilot in the resistance, without question. As he had said the last part, she heard him smirk a bit, and looked over at him, bathed in the blue light of hyperspace, to find him with a little crooked grin on his face and his hair falling down around his ears. She had felt her guarded heart open a little bit more at that, and had to turn and gaze back out at the stars before her heart opened completely to this rogue of a man.

Later, pressed against his chest in a supply closet, hiding from some stormtroopers, she would marvel at just how fast humans' hearts beat. She knew they were supposed to beat about two times faster than a twi’lek, but his seemed like it was fit to fly out of his ribcage. She found herself thinking, “Is it supposed to be doing that? Is this why he's such a hot headed idiot?” Later she would discover it did not always beat that incredibly fast, usually just a bit faster than hers. It made him ridiculously warm, and also may have contributed to why he was so quick to anything. Not rushed. Not hasty. Just quick. Quick to anger. Quick to smile. Quick to fight. Quick to laugh. Quick to love.

Maybe that was why it was such a shock when he finally reached his limit. She had gotten used to him pulling through impossible situations. She had forgotten that they had limits, just like her.

And then, years later, a glimmer of hope. Ahsoka and Sabine, travelling the galaxy over, searching for Ezra. While Kanan was gone forever, she still had a chance to get one of her boys back.

And of course, there was always Jacen. Her beautiful little boy, who was soft and sweet and yet surprisingly strong, just like his father. And Hera was comforted to know that wherever this wild galaxy would take him, he had Kanan Jarrus’ blood coursing through his veins to keep him safe.

[sunsetcurveofficial]

Ooh, drunk Willex with Alex deciding NOW is the best time for Willie to teach him how to skateboard

this is my first time writing main willex (as in, not just as background relationship). been super excited for it but i feel like i still need some warming up to get their dynamic on point. let me know what you think!! 

there is also a side of peterpatter in this because. have you met me?

hope you enjoy this fun little fic. xx

also available on ao3

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In hindsight, Alex should have known that it wasn’t the best idea to get drunk on alcohol Willie smuggled out of Caleb’s cursed club with the three most chaotic people he knew. Which, coincidentally, also happened to be three people - or ghosts, really - he loved most in the world. But sometimes the most inadvisable ideas also turned out to be the best ideas. Even Alex had to admit that. 

“How does this even work?” Reggie asked when they were about two bottles in. There was a lilt to his voice that left no doubt about his state of drunkenness. “We don’t have a bloodstream! Why are we drunk?” 

“Well, how did we eat without a stomach, Reg? It’s ghost magic,” Alex said, too busy looking at Willie to even turn his head in Reggie’s direction. 

“It totally is, bro. But it’s neat, isn’t it?” Willie didn’t take his eyes off him either, and Alex smiled at him, the fluttery feeling in his chest spreading through his entire non-body. He still didn’t understand how he had a body but didn’t have one both at the same time. It was confusing, and Alex had always been most comforted by a clear explanation for things that made sense. And this ghost thing still didn’t make any sense at all. 

“I never got drunk when we were alive,” Alex admitted, “It feels nice. All fuzzy.” 

It did feel nice. Warm and tingly. He was feeling less anxious about, well, most things. He barely even thought about the fact that ghosts shouldn’t be able to get drunk. And he thought he could kiss Willie right now and would barely feel nervous about it, which was also pretty nice. In fact, he felt like he could conquer the world right then if he wanted to. 

Or, “Teach me how to skateboard!” Alex blurted, and Willie’s eyes widened for a second before he broke out into a grin. Alex blamed his friends for this. It seemed their chaotic energy was so infectious that it made Alex suggest something stupid like that at 2 am. He knew he would only make a fool of himself, but Willie looked way too excited for him to take it back now. 

“That is a brilliant idea!” Willie said. 

“I wanna come, too,” Luke announced. He’d been unusually quiet all night, and now he had his arms wrapped around one of Reggie’s arms like it wasn’t a limb but a stuffed animal he cuddled for comfort. Or something. Luke had always been very physically affectionate, clingy almost, and it appeared that particular trait only got enhanced by the alcohol in his non-existent blood stream. 

“You already know how to skateboard, Luke,” Reggie said a little dumbly. Luke made a whining noise. 

“I still wanna come! I wanna see Alex trying to impress Willie and falling on his ass instead.” 

Alex glared at his friend just as Reggie’s face lit up. Great.

“Actually, I wanna see that, too!” 

Alex rolled his eyes, but then Willie took his hand and he didn’t really care anymore. He just wanted to be close to Willie, and getting taught how to skate seemed like the perfect opportunity.

So that’s how they ended up by the beach, on a dimly lit path that Willie deemed good enough for practice. Luke and Reggie flopped down onto a log on the side, whispering about something, and Alex let Willie guide him onto the board. 

“Let’s try it together,” Willie said, pressing himself behind Alex on the short skateboard, wrapping an arm around his waist and using the other to take his hand. Alex felt all warm again, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. The fact that he was still feeling a little drunk certainly helped. 

Willie started pushing them along with the leg that wasn’t on the board, and Alex mirrored his movements. He wasn’t really surprised that they only made it about five feet before landing in a tangle of limbs on the ground. Alex blushed, but Willie laughed like he was having the best time of his life. He jumped up and offered Alex a hand.

“Let’s try it again, hotdog.” 

Alex smiled at him and let himself be pulled up. He would try again and again just to have Willie pressed against his back once more. 

They tried a few more times, getting steadier and steadier every time, while Luke and Reggie kept cheering them on from the side. Luke had slung his legs acrss Reggie’s lap the last time he looked at them. But Alex didn’t really care much about what they were doing anyway. He much rather focussed on his almost-boyfriend instead, who kept giving him animated instructions that made his heart flutter. 

Alex absolutely did land on his ass again the first time he tried skating by himself, with Willie cheering him on. He poked his tongue out at him as he was sitting here, waiting for Willie to pull him up. 

“You’re a regular Tony Hawk, hotdog,” Willie said around a laugh when he offered Alex a hand and pulled him up with a little more force than necessary, making Alex stumble right into him. Willie wrapped his arms around his waist to steady him, and Alex’s heartbeat sped up. If he wasn’t still drunk, he would probably start a thought spiral about his heart speeding up when he didn’t actually have a heart anymore. But his head was still feeling blissfully fuzzy, so he smiled at Willie instead, eyes darting to his lips. He’d never kissed anyone but Luke before, back when they were 14 and just trying things for the sake of it, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be tipsy and a little out of it on a dimly lit path along the beach when he kissed Willie for the first time. 

“Oha, hotdog, you’re really making this hard if you keep staring at my lips,” Willie said, grinning stupidly. “I really want to kiss you now.” 

Alex made a choking sound, his chest feeling a little tight, but there was still none of the anxiety he expected. So he smiled tentatively. 

“Okay,” he breathed, nodding. 

And Willie kissed him, right there, right then, and Alex thought that it probably wasn’t the perfect moment, but it felt perfect, and that was what really mattered, right? Willie was grinning against his lips when Alex kissed him back, and it was the best feeling in the world. No offence to Luke, but their awkward kissing didn’t compare at all to the way Willie’s soft lips felt against his, the way his hands were roaming over his back, and the way he tasted like ghost liquor and - Coca Cola chapstick? 

“I’d say you’re much better at this than you are at skateboarding, Alex,” Willie told him when they broke apart, both breathing a little heavily, and Alex knew his dopey grin matched Willie’s. He really was the most beautiful person - ghost or not - Alex had ever seen. 

Luke and Reggie were cheering from the sidelines, Luke hopping up from Reggie’s lap to come over and clap Alex on the back. That boy really did not know any boundaries at all. Reggie joined them too, and Alex squirmed away from his touchy friends to wrap himself around Willie again instead. 

“It’s really not fair!” Luke suddenly complained, the whiny voice back in full. “What does a ghost have to do around here to get a kiss like that?” 

“Be in the right place at the right time for someone cute to run you over on a skateboard,” Alex said cheekily, and Willie kissed his cheek. 

“Run someone really cute over on your skateboard in the right place at the right time,” Willie told him with a grin, and Alex felt all fluttery again. He thought he was falling in love. Kinda hard and kinda fast, but right then it didn’t even scare him that much. It was good. 

“You guys are too cute,” Luke whined, flipping them the bird. Reggie was suspiciously quiet, eyeing Luke from the side. Alex saw it coming the moment Reggie moved. He just knew him too well. Reggie grabbed Luke’s arm, made him turn around, and then pressed their lips together in a kiss that made Luke gasp not-so-subtly. 

Alex laughed as Willie nudged him in the side. 

“Looks like sometimes you only need to whine enough for your friend to take pity on you,” Alex commented. Luke pulled away from Reggie, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. There was a frown growing on his forehead. 

“Pity?” he asked, looking hurt as he stared at Reggie. 

“Poor choice of words, hotdog,” Willie whispered conspiratorially. Reggie glared at Alex, who raised his hands in surrender. 

“Okay. No pity, then. Have fun, boys,” he said. Reggie pulling Luke back in by his shirt was the last thing he saw before poofing away, arms still wrapped around Willie. He brought them to a skate park close to his old high school. 

“Now that we got rid of those clowns. I wouldn’t mind another lesson,” Alex said, smiling at Willie. 

“In skateboarding or kissing?” Willie asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Alex did mean skateboarding, but putting it like that… He pulled Willie into another kiss instead, leaving the skateboarding for another day. 

-  End.   - 

[tenseoyong]

NSFW A-Z: Haechan

Cr.

Ko-Fi | Masterlist

A = Aftercare   Haechan isn’t typically the one doing the caring, he’s more used to being taken care of so he finds the change a strange welcoming. He pretty much relishes in your automatic reliance on him after sex, tenderly cleaning the sweat and other, ahem, fluids away before curling back up in bed with you, enjoying the way you hide away in his arms like he’s your sole comfort. 

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) On the lowest of keys, Haechan is an ass man, and do not argue with me. Any way he can sneakily get a handful, he isn’t afraid to go for it. Particularly when you’re cuddling, he’s always got his hand in your back pocket, or when he’s got you riding him for all you’re worth, he’s grasping at your plump behind and guiding you as you bounce on his cock. 

C = Cum Compared to how vocal he is during sex, Haechan is unusually quiet when he cums. More like the breath is knocked right out of him and he can’t make a sound, Haechan just desperately grasps at any soft bits of you he can manage when his thrusts falter and grow sloppier, burying his face against your shoulder, jaw slack and he breathlessly pants against you as he falls apart.  

D = Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs) He’ll swear up and down he’s not a sub, that it’s just a little fun to switch back and forth the power dynamic when you’re fooling around together, and you suppose he thinks he’s good enough at hiding it that it’s actually a dirty little secret, but it’s certainly not hard to tell how much more excited he gets when you’ve taken over control and start getting extra demanding of him. I suppose it’s not much of a secret, per say, but he thinks he’s kept it hidden well, and well, who are you to expose the poor boy?

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?) Haechan falls very middle ground, while leaning a tiny bit towards the naive end. He doesn’t have full experience, and will definitely need a hand the first few times to fully know what he’s supposed to be doing and what actually feels good because let’s be honest, every guy’s understanding of sex is 93% from porn and 7% shitty advice from his older brothers/father and that never ends well for us, does it? You’ll definitely have to give him a little teaching session, but our little bear is a fast learner, and you’ll be reaping the benefits easily.

F = Favorite position Haechan isn’t awildly adventurous lover in the bedroom, he’s not one that you’ll convince to try crazy positions that seem to resemble a game of twister more than sex, he’s more inclined to ‘simpler’ positions. Haechan favors some good eye contact so he leans more towards good ol’ missionary or having you ride him.

G = Goofy(Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc) As a Certified Brat, Haechan won’t be a super serious, intense lover. He doesn’t put on this role in the bedroom that he sticks to or anything, but he’s not exactly a full clown either. He’s more of a teaser, than ‘humorous’, he’s not making jokes or giggling with you, more like he’s lowkey roasting you the whole time, all in good fun, of course. 

H = Hair (How well groomed are they) Haechan’s a fairly neat and well dressed/groomed boy. I’ve never seen him actually looking unkempt, it’s fair to assume that is consistent in, ahem, other areas. He doesn’t do a whole lot of manscaping, just enough to keep things neat and orderly. Nothing specially designed or completely bare. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) Haechan is a bit more of a subtle lover, he doesn’t really verbally express his affections very often. He’s not a pillow talker or much of a sweet nothings kind of guy. He’s more of a touchy, clingy lover. He relies on gentle touches and soft eye contact to fully convey his emotions. 

J = Jack Off (Masturbation) I swear Haechan is the most stealthy masturbator. He gives off the vibe like he doesn’t even realize you could masturbate, you’ve never caught him, or even ‘almost’ caught him (you know those moments when you come knocking on someones door, and you can hear the panic and shuffling of blankets before the shakey ‘come in’ times. that.) and you’ll even mess with him about it. At some point you’ll poke fun at him like, ‘why don’t you just go jerk off!’ and he’ll look at you stupid like ‘I...I just did.’ and you pause, ‘what do you mean, you just did? you....you masturbate???” and he shrugs like ‘yeah, i do all the time. why?’ 

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks) Haechan isn’t a super kinky kind of guy. He’s way more on the ‘vanilla’ side of the spectrum. The lightest of power play kink is the biggest noteworthy thing you’ll find with Haechan. He’s not necessarily a dom, or a sub, bouncing between, neither, and both. The power shifts back and forth a lot, quite literally too, you’ll literally be tumbling over and over each other, fighting for dominance. 

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do) More explained on R, Haechan’s a more nervous kind of lover. He’s super paranoid of getting caught by someone, let alone one of his own members. The bedroom is virtually the only place you’ll get anything more than a kiss from him. However, if you’re in the privacy of your own home you might be able to convince him a few times for a romp around the living room. But those will be a rarity, he’ll be too concerned that he’ll become used to it, and then slip up in his own dorm and get caught. 

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going) Being a Certified Brat, half the time he’s ‘flirting’ is just him being a lil’ shit to you. Usually when he’s acting like a brat, he’s, let’s say, the one being the ‘dominant’ one? Like he’s always bullying someone else lol so it’s always fun when you flip the script on him, instead of whining at him, you shoot it right back at him and it’s lowkey kinda hot to him. Like maybe not full chubby hot, but it certainly plants the seed that he’ll carry with him until he gets you alone again. “So, think you’re the funny one here huh? Think you can tease me like that and get away with it?”

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Bondage is something no matter what you could possible try, you never can seem to get Haechan interested. Even handcuffs aren’t really a turn on for him, he doesn’t like the (obviously) restriction they add to the bedroom. Half of the fun to him is the toss and turn of power you two shift between when you’re together, and any kind of restraint obviously hinders that. He may begrudgingly indulge you once in a while, but it’s certainly not something he’s interested in. 

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc) Oral is going to be a...touchy subject. Haechan doesn’t have a lot of experience with it and he’s a bit more hesitant to actually engage in it, worried that he won’t be any good and therefor tends to avoid it at all costs, opting to use his fingers during foreplay. You’ll try to subtly steer him in the direction you want, but he’ll manage to avoid it every time until you directly face it on like ‘why won’t you go down on me?’ and he’ll be forced to voice his concerns. Once you reassure him and maybe give him a little guidance, he’ll still be a tiny bit worried but will be more inclined to please you.  

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.) Haechan’s fairly consistent in bed, if we’re being honest. It’s not often he’ll come up with some spicy ideas and surprise you by like....full ass throwing you down on the bed before you can blink and beat cheeks lol. He’s a slow and thorough lover, opting more for tender touches and determined thrusts than desperate grabbing and erratic movements. 

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.) It entirely depends of what time of day it is when you’re trying to get him all hot and bothered. If it’s closer to the end of the day, Haechan will just blow off whatever he was invited to with the other members and just spend the night with you. Maybe you’ll wake him up in the middle of the night and whine about wanting him, and he’ll happily indulge you in a quick romp before clonking out again. He’s not really capable of beating a time limit in the bedroom, so a quickie before his schedule just isn’t going to happen. Quickies are definitely far and few in between. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.) Much more of a careful in the bedroom kind of guy, Haechan isn’t one that you’ll convince to try a lot of new things. Throwing a few new positions into the mix are a given, maybe you’ll be able to talk him into screwing around in the shower or somewhere else in the dorm when you’re a 10000000% sure no one is coming back to the dorm any time soon, and even then, he’s still sort of panicking. Haechan’s safety zone is very small, any attempts at getting creative will have to be reserved for your home or he’s firm in his safety zone. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…) Haechan falls very middle ground with stamina in comparison to the other members. He’s not going to cum in his pants from you touching his thigh or anything silly like that, but Haechan won’t be breaking your puss for hours on end, either. A good half hour is usually the cap for him, pretty standard really. He typically won’t be going for multiple rounds either, maybe if you actually have the time to calm down and re-cooperate, Haechan may indulge in another round.  

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?) I don’t see Haechan using many toys, let alone owning any. I think he’d be one of the members that get a little shy over the idea of bringing something else into the bedroom, things like vibrators tickling that ‘what if I’m not enough’ spot every man seems to think lol, you’ll probably have to have a very mature conversation about the subject and make him see it’s just something fun to add to the bedroom, not something to make up for something lacking, and he’ll be a bit more open to the idea. But you’ll have to take the reigns on obtaining and explaining things to him. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) In most times, you’re a bit more in control so, whether or not you show the baby bear mercy is up to you...but he certainly does not pull many punches when it comes to being a tease. Haechan is much more a teaser than a pleasure, you two don’t often get a lot of time for each other and when you do, he wants to take full advantage of the time. He’ll tease you for ages, edging you over and over, barely giving you enough of a touch to even actually draw pleasure from it, just barely brushing his touch over the more sensitive bits until you’re begging and nearly shouting at him to actually touch you. 

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make) A main vocalist through and through, you’ll have to be very strategic for when you two can fool around because he will be heard. Haechan’s very high pitched, and those lungs do not hold back when he’s whining and moaning loud enough for god himself to hear. He’s definitely more of a whine and moan than groaning lover, more so whining in desperation with a few moans sprinkled in here and there. 

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice) He’s 100% a switch, that leans more towards submission just a tiny bit, and you won’t convince me otherwise. Haechan’s absolutely one of the members that’ll top you from the bottom, even when you’re in control, he’s got a way of leading you into his path and giving into him even if you’re not realizing it, still managing to control the power with the illusion that you’re holding the whip. Brat, essentially.  

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words) Haechan gives off this weird vibe that’s like...he’s not the biggest gun in the armory but he knows damn well what he’s doing and what he ‘lacks’ doesn’t hinder his ability to fucking decimate your pussy, right? Like I think he comes in with his cocky attitude, see’s you’re reaction to him when he strips down, knowing you have no idea what you’re in for. Don’t underestimate him.  

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?) He’s ranking pretty low on my ‘how horny are NCT on the daily?’ list, Haechan’s not one with a super high sex drive. He’s not going to be jumping your bones the second you’re within reaching distance, and I can’t imagine him being one of those couples that go at it every single day, or even every other day. He’s more of a snuggle-ish (?) lover, Haechan will gain his need for physical contact through basic skinship and affection rather than going straight for the bedroom, you’ll probably manage to get in his pants once a week, twice if you’re super lucky. 

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Haechan is absolutely one of the clingiest lovers you’ll find in NCT. Most of the time you two are doing the ol’ in-and-out, it’s full skin on skin contact, and that sticks through post-coitus as well. He doesn’t fall asleep very quickly afterwards, you’ll probably get cleaned up, cuddle and have some substantial pillow talk anywhere from 30 minutes up to a full hour before the workout catches up to him and he actually starts getting drowsy. 

[younghoax]

Sunday 20th June • Somewhere in Midtown

He’s only going for a piss. Ain’t gonna let a bunch of bozos put him off going to the bathroom in his own damn apartment, but he ain’t about to humour them, either. The bathroom door is right outside his bedroom. Just a short turn to the right and there it is. Easy fuckin’ peasy.

In theory.

“J!” Marco calls just as he reaches the handle. Spies him from the couch and waves him over. “Come light up kid. ‘Ey-- Benny’ll roll you one.”

The doorknob is already under his hand and Jordan twists it. Ignores the half-strangers that try to lure him across the room. Around half a dozen of them smoking in his living room with some kinda rap music playing from what he’s pretty sure is just a cellphone. Fuck that. He could go his whole life without facing these dickheads again and it’d still be too damn soon.

Dissatisfied with being ignored, Marco stands from the couch, steps over a couple legs and shoves the rest aside to get through until he reaches Jordan by the bathroom door. “Vieni qui piccolo,” Marco drawls through a grin, the guys sat around him on the couch repeating, “sì vieni qui piccolo,” laughing around joints and Jordan just stands there, arms crossed over his bare chest as he squints. Marco snides, “we got space. Sit on Benny’s lap if you gotta.”

With nothing else on Jordan’s body to grab, Marco tugs at the waistband of his shorts, the other hand reaching for the side of his neck. J squirms out from under his hands though, palms shoving the man’s chest. He hadn’t picked up on it until now, but his roommate must be on something.

Piccolo. He ain’t Marco’s fuckin’ baby. “Fuck outa here,” he grunts, letting them whoop and cackle like he just gave ‘em something to crack up about as he turns to continue his short trip to the bathroom. Not fuckin’ short enough.

“Come smoke with us, J,” his roommate tries again. “So tense all the fuckin’ time these days.”

“Yeah, well, got shit to worry about. A job and shit, y’know?” Nah, he wouldn’t know. “You ever heard o’one?”

Another audible reaction from their audience and Marco’s raising his voice slightly over the other voices. “What, like sellin’ those pills? Yeah, real good fuckin’ job you did of that, J. Complimenti!” The man cheers and his clowns cheer along. Probably aren’t even listening to what’s being said, just following their divine leader.

Sure, it took him a minute, but he wasn’t gonna sell to just anybody like Marco’s boys do. He gives a shit about the people that take it off his hands. Besides, they’re gone now. So what? “Stop fuckin’ speaking Italian, you were born in Staten Island from a schmuck from Texas, y’fuckin’ clown.”

“Fuckin’ talk about my old man, J.”

It’s Fathers’ day which is a laugh. Or, it would be if Marco weren’t so high that the irony’s lost on him. Got no fucking idea what day of the week it even is.

“A’right. Where’d you want me to start?”

There’s a single, “oh, shit,” that Jordan guesses the rest of the gang decide against humouring, Marco’s face going cold in a second. He doesn’t even get within six feet of Jordan when he says, “shut your fuckin’ mouth.”

“Nah, he was an alright father,” J tells him with a shrug, hands slipping into the pockets of his basketball shorts as his head lulls to one side. “Kept you fed, ‘ight? Soda and cigs by age fourteen. A nice, rounded fuckin’ diet.”

Looks like Marco thinks that’s the end of it because he gifts him with a short laugh, head shaking as he turns and swats one of his boys off the nearest armchair. Leaves him to find a new place to sit as he claims the space for himself. “Y’funny.”

J ain’t finished, though.

“Kept you safe too, eh? Got you a nice group of friends. Doubled as your babysitters. Oh neat!” He cheers. Nobody cheers along. “What was your favourite activity? Mine was a tie… Either counting cash and weighing coke with the boys or going to the park to play collect the syringes on the playground whilst daddy’s friends did their deals.”

“This meant to be hurting my feelings, J? Cause last I checked, you never had a dad.”

“How about the part where he beat you before bedtime? Bet that knocked you out like a light, eh? Get your eight hours, Marco? Yeah, he was the man.” A pause. “Y’just like him.”

Marco’s not moved. His friends ain’t said a word. Except one, who asks, “you takin’ that, Coney?” but he’s ignored by all parties. Marco scoffs, arms folded over his chest now, slouched back in his seat. “You wanna pretend like you hate me? It make y'feel better?”

“I do. I do fuckin’ hate you. You had me fooled back then Marco, but I see you now, doll. You ain’t shit. You’re suffocating me. Y’spoilt yourself. I realised how much of a fuck-up you are, and you ran outa people who gave a shit about you. Think these guys’d be here if not for your old man?” A roll of his eyes and J’s turning yet again to enter the bathroom, his words muttered. “Is that why you used to keep me at such a distance back then? In case I saw the light and stopped fucking worshipping you? Well, I see you in all your glory now, Marco, and it’s fucking ugly.”

Marco just scoffs behind him. “You still worship me.”

Jordan shakes his head, turning back again crossing the room to where the man is slouched in his chair, this dopey fucking smile on his face like he’s got him with that one. Like he didn’t spend years pushing J away, scared he’d see all the wrong sides of him. Spend years pining when Jordan moved states. Spent years in Jordan’s pocket when he got back, scared to be left alone with the big, bad wolves of the city again. As if he ain’t one of them. Worse, because at least those guys know what the fuck they are.

Jordan pauses in front of him. Spits. Tells him, “rot.”

That's all it takes to get a rise. Not a jab at his late father or his pathetic friends. Just the reality that Marco, himself, ain’t shit. To Jordan or to anybody. Marco’s out of his seat, arms around Jordan for long enough to get the leverage he needs to slam him to the ground, then it’s a rush of fists and nails. J grabs at the back of his shirt, trying to tug him off himself but has more luck shoving his elbows between them as a fist makes the first real impact to his side.

He can’t hear what’s happening around them, just hears his own breath punch out before Marco grunts and does the same again. J’s off to a shitty start with two punches to none and he’s still shoving to no avail at Marco’s torso until he finally gets a decent jab in and has his roommate doubling over. One quick manoeuvre and they’re flipped. J doesn’t hesitate, gets a good hit to Marco’s jaw and soon the guy’s reaching around, punching at his back and sides.

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you,” he spits, doesn’t know what exactly it is that he’s seething about, but it’s months -years- or built-up anger exploding out of him as his hands land around Marco’s throat and the guy keeps punching, but J tenses his body. Tenses his hands, squeezes, and feels Marco abandon his punches in exchange for shoves much like Jordan’s own; all elbows. He feels the man try to shift – try to turn his head, wondering where the fuck his so-called friends are whilst his roommate grits his teeth above him, squeezes harder like he’s trying to break his neck. And maybe Jordan is, he’s not sure, but—

There are half a dozen hands-on him outa nowhere and Jordan’s torn away from Marco with such strength that he lands halfway into the bathroom, bare back skidding against the floor, bruised skin burning from the friction as he stops in the room he’d been trying to get to all along. Only this time there are three pairs of fists punching as he curls up on himself.

There’s a kick and, somewhere in the back of his mind, Jordan thinks that’s a low fucking blow, three against one and now somebody’s kicking. But then there’s a couple more, simultaneously and, with his arms wrapped over his head, shoes pummelling into his sides and his arms and his legs, Jordan can’t tell how many of them are standing over him. Doesn’t know how the fuck they all piled into the tiny bathroom. He hears himself grunt, hears his own heavy, wretched breathing, hears his pulse and hears Marco choke, “stop. Get off him. Get the fuck off him!”

And just like that, they stop.

---

Everybody’s gone. It’s just the two of them sat beside each other on the couch, the kitchen light on and just barely illuminating the room from where it stretches to their side of it. Silent, watching the screen like it’s on. Like it’s not just black.

They haven’t been alone for long. Someone shot out an offer to take care of J. Something about getting him outa Marco’s hair for good. Marco lost his shit. J didn’t really have it in him to listen. Just paid attention for long enough to confirm that his roommate wasn’t about to confirm a kill order on him. He just lay there, the side of his face pressed against the bathroom floor, arms around his waist and knees drawn up and Marco cleared the room out. Then he’d knelt beside Jordan, hooked an arm under each of his, and pulled him up and towards the couch.

Honestly, considering there was a handful of them and they’re meant to be the big, bad wolves of Manhattan, J ain’t really hurting half as bad as he’d expected. All fuckin’ talk. Don’t mean he ain’t hurting, though. He’s pretty sure nothing’s broken.

“I crossed a line,” Jordan mutters now, a bag of frozen corn pressed to his side as he tries to breathe short and hollow. Tries not to move more than he has to. “I’m sorry.”

The freezer’s otherwise empty, so Marco decided to be courteous. Let J take the bag of frozen food whilst he suffered. “They won’t touch you again,” the man replies, his voice hoarse. His own version of an apology, Jordan’s pretty sure. “I’ll kill ‘em before they do.”

“What about you?” Jordan asks, and the man looks confused. “You gonna put hands on me again?”

“You started it.”

“S’just a question.”

A small laugh leaves his roommate's lips then; jaw slightly swollen and growing darker, and he shows his teeth for just a second before he closes his lips around a smile. “Probably. Can’t stand you.”

“Yeah?” Hard not to smile. J wishes he could explain why. He elbows him lightly and they both hiss in discomfort. “Back at you.”

Marco’s face ain’t so bad other than the welt on his jaw, but his throat is starting to bruise, and he hasn’t spoken above a mumble or a whisper since he called off his army. He’s a little hunched too, probably isn’t aching even half as much as Jordan is, but enough that, when they both fall into a soft bout of laughter, mostly huffing out breaths, they’re also both sucking air back in between their teeth again in pain. The synchronicity only pulls another chuckle from both, until they’re shaking their heads in unison and pulling their eyes from each other, looking back at the blank screen.

“I know,” Marco mutters before he slowly, carefully leans back into the couch. “I know you don’t fuckin… Worship me anymore.” Well, no shit. “We’re barely even friends.” Barely? That’s generous. “But I do regret what I did. Back on the Upper West Side. I think about it all the time.”

Jordan just nods. They’ve never talked about it. Somehow, it’s just never been brought up since. Both men as embarrassed as the other.

“Why’d you do it? Why’d you blame me?”

Lower lip between his teeth, Marco’s eyes are scanning the walls when Jordan looks over to him again. He looks a lot like he did that afternoon, nodding and repeating ‘yes, sir. Yes, sir. No, sir. I’m sorry, sir,’ as his dad spoke in that tone like he wasn’t gonna hit you but he might just kill you.

He looks guilty as sin. And his voice cracks when he speaks.

“I knew you’d run,” he tells him simply. “I was too scared. Saved up all that money to get outa there and never fuckin’ did it, but I knew you would.”

“Bullshit. You took a swing and then you passed the bat. You left me for dead. Y’thought I was gonna die just as much as I did.”

“I didn’t know what to do! What was I meant to do? His boys were downstairs, he was so fucking angry. I was scared, J.”

“Yeah, well so was I.” Jordan scoffs. “While you locked yourself in your bedroom to fuckin cry about it, your dad was beating the shit out of me upstairs for your fuckin’ lie. I didn’t know you stole those drugs, Marco. Fuckin’ asshole. I mean—what were you doing, eh? When I was up there. Counting another wad of stolen bills you had laying around?”

“I called Danny,” Marco snaps. “Put my fuckin’ neck on the line for you, calling him.”

That’s fucking rich. Jordan’s fucking hero picked up a phone and whispered an S.O.S down the line. “Well, then. I guess everything’s fine, then. Ain’t it?” Another scoff and he has to tear his eyes away from the man. Can’t fucking look at him, the way his brows bow like he’s got something to feel sorry about. “You only cared about yourself.”

“I was in love with you!”

“You’re pathetic.”

The light in the kitchen has something loose. A filament that rattles and makes the faintest tingling sound. It took a couple months of convincing himself that he’d accumulated tinnitus before Jordan figured it out. One of the many annoying fucking sounds in this apartment, right after the ticking boiler and the sound of Marco’s voice. There’s a long silence that he welcomes though. Is glad to hear the sound of the damn light if it means not listening to--

“You loved me,” the man decides, his voice level. Factual. “You were obsessed with me-- Don’t look at me like it ain’t true, Jordan. Fuck you. You loved me and you were fucking scared, too.”

Their first kiss was in a fucking storage container, full of cocaine and lit by a solar lamp. They fucked on the ground, lasted no more than five fucking minutes. And they’d talk back then, sure. Jordan’s mom would be off somewhere, and Marco’s dad would be making his next big deal, and they’d find themselves alone, watching TV or tryna cook their own food or navigate the ferry when they were a little too high. Back then Jordan would pretend they were a couple. In his head, they were cooking after a long day of work. Sitting down and watching TV. Putting their feet up after a long day. Making out when it was late and nobody else was around. Finally a moment alone.

And yet.

“You’re right, I was obsessed with you,” Jordan admits. “Everything you did was like… Fuckin’ genius. I wanted to be you. With you. Whatever.” Marco’s eyes light up, still needing to hear Jordan say it, after all these years. Still needing someone to tell him he ain’t nothing. “But I can honestly say, hand on fuckin’ heart, that I wasn’t in love with you. Not even for a second. Not even a little fuckin’ bit. I was fifteen and I was horny and I was bored of being scared all the damn time. So I picked the first asshole that kissed me and I latched onto it.”

“You’re full o’shit. You don’t even know what love—”

“I fucking know, Marco.” He doesn’t realise that he has it in him to stand until he’s on his feet, wincing as he forces himself to straighten up. “Y’really got yourself convinced that my life stayed miserable when I got outa here, huh?” Jordan accuses, bare arms crossed over a bare chest, soggy, defrosting bagged corn soaking into the couch. He could tell him about how he fell in love and it wasn’t even close to the shit Marco put him through. Could tell him that what happened in Massachusetts hurt more than what happened in Marc’s attic. Could tell him that he just fucking wants to go home but his home died in a prison cell with a needle in his arm.

Thing is, he ain’t sure Marco deserves to hear it.

“I didn’t fucking love you,” he tells him. “And I’m moving out.”

[snowtimeisbesttime]

Thoughts and questions on Hiveswap Act 2– Part 1.

**DISCLAIMER** I haven't played through the entire game yet! I got to the intermission in the whole trial thingy, and will continue tomorrow! Therefore, I Am Not Looking at anything yet, only posting. I'll probably come back and edit this once I've actually finished the game.

-Did the default names for Xefros & Dammek's lusii change?? I loaded my Act 1 save, and I'm sure they had their default names (Zoosmell and Cornibuster) there, though I'm also pretty sure i accidentally unlocked the “name the lusii” achievement on that save by clicking on the text windows without actually changing their names so... Dammek's lusus is called Toothy now i guess?

-On that note, if Xefros' lusus died I'm going to fucking scream. Even though I'm pretty sure we've barely seen him on screen since like the end of Act 1 but Regardless.

-We see Charun's cave, and it turns out they were neighbours with Zebede all this time, but they're nowhere to be seen at the train?? unless they grabbed an earlier one... Charun did get a death flag the size of the pacific ocean, when interacting with their weird sculpture with a lot of legs and arms surrounding a mouth, but Zebede's just gone without a trace? The bees are gone and there's a hole in the side of his hive, but his lusus doesn't seem to be particularly upset? And neither is Charun's, assuming that huge bug near the cave is their lusus. (Idarat the canon fantroll #3 doesn't appear at the train either, but that's probably for the same reason there aren't any jade or teal background characters: to keep the court scene neat)

-The drones are supposed to be en route to the station, supposedly to fix the ticket machines but probably to cull whoever tripped the alarm on them... i sure hope they don't follow the train or anything orz

-Mostly everyone seems to resemble their respective Friendsims, more or less:

Fozzer appears to be scratched still, yet more philosophical. Also he's not in the train either.

Folykl seems just a touch friendlier than in her friendsim (and Kuprum's still just as hyped about becoming a helmsman as before, even if he seems to know more details about it now).

Chixie's more anxious, probably because it seems she's been doing stuff as The Mask for a while now, and she's going to fuck shit up at Jeevik Week. She says she's not alone in that, and considering it's apparently confirmed that the random troll from her good end Was Dammek all this time... is she also actively in the rebellion? Also is it just me or does her sprite look somewhat scribblier than everyone else's? Even the background characters??

Elwurd's pretty much the same, and it does seem her flirting with Joey was mostly to try and get her to buy something. Also... if her fake tickets were so good, why didn't she just use them, instead of giving them to Joey and Xefros? Like, I get Marvus and Boldir Knowing Stuff, but her?

Zebruh's paying attention to Marvus instead of Chixie, which. Small mercies. He's still a dick, and we're still doing the whole “clowns are peak oppressed” thing.

Marvus seems to still be perfectly nice to the main characters, and perfectly willing to let other people die in order to help them advance (getting Zebruh to sign up for Slam or Get Culled, Daraya if you fuck up in the trial thing, Hopefully Not Any More Cases...) He is helping Tyzias out with her defensive legislaceration experiments, though, and basically everyone who isn't Joey seems to think he might flip his shit and murder someone, as clowns do. At least people don’t seem to lose their minds around him anymore.

Vikare's basically the same, but Joey immediately picks up on his Jake Vibes and instinctively dislikes him.

Diemen eats people???????? as in, actively????????? wtf?????????

Skylla seems to be pretty much the same, but she's obviously worried because Ladyy's sick!! God I fucking hope we do get to help her out before the end of the game.

Marsti's also friendlier than she was in her volume, though I remember MSPAR was particularly prone to sticking their foot in their mouth in that one.

Cirava's surprisingly more trusting than they were in their volume (and also, their eye's light green and not teal). Also, apparently they gouged their other eye out on stream?????? as in live???? besides that, good to see not All of the powerful psionics get succesfully indoctrinated.

Polypa's also rather willing to help out, though we still don't know what the heck happened to her.

Boldir's suitably mysterious, and probably also involved with the rebellion... she does call Xefros “burgundy figurehead”.

Konyyl and Azdaja are still having relationship stuffs, but in the end they clearly care the most about each other. (he still doesn't seem to give a fuck about helm stuffs so far?) The question is, who exactly were they hunting down??

The jades and the teals are basically the same as their Friendsim incarnations, as far as I've seen. The one major change to the jades (besides jade lore which i'll discuss further down) seems to be that hatched2dance is now one of the biggest reasons for their fights, and Bronya does get a crunchy bit of Backstory (the jade from her past that got culled because of the Rainbow Hemotions saga, which is also the reason she's so hard on Daraya now)

On the teals, Stelsa and Tyzias seem to have a teensy bit of quadrant vacillation going on?? Tirona seems to be more focused on becoming a history revisionist than a memeagandist now, and it would also seem that Tegiri's the one into vampires now (or at least, Tagora's better at hiding it And a lot better at not getting involved with the whole mess that is whatever the heck the jades are doing)

-Psionics can have single-colored eyes!! tbh we'd already seen this back in Tegiri's route in Friendsim but it's good to Actually See it visually.

-Also, nice to see that Xefros *can* go toe to toe with the strongest psionic we know in all of Hiveswap! (95% sure that I've seen someone theorize something like this might happen?? I personally wasn't expecting it here but anyways Xefros you're doing amazing sweetie) What's not so nice is that he's only shown this strength when Azdaja hurt Joey (as far as i've played of course)... so unless he like unlocks his potential or something so he can do Big Psychics without seeing his friends get hurt beforehand we're in for some Angst.

-Also if Marvus got his ticket from Cridea (and Chixie won hers in like a raffle or something) then why couldn't she have given Xefros and Dammek some?? like, Dammek's been to one Jeevik Week already. Fiamet also told her about Joey, but by then they were already in the train.

-Me: Xefros' microphone's going to be important in act 2! Also me: *has to give it to fucking Zebruh to get his ticket*. Oh well, that's one thing for the Second Playthrough of Achievement Getting (plus: wearing the cone horns, having Joey introduce herself to Boldir, getting through the whole ace attorney segment without game overs...)

-We get the Quadrant Explanation #1000, sans auspisticism.

-It's vaguely implied that Dammek has also read some Soldier Purrbeasts books?? He's told Xefros the whole “death creates a bond deeper than matespritship or kismessisitude” thing, apparently! So if he's not secretly into troll warrior cats then. That sentence's more than mildly worrying??

-JADEBLOOD LOREDUMP PART THE NTEENTH: Okay first of all it's implied that More cloisters exist? Which in retrospect is pretty much obvious because you can't expect only six trolls to take care of All the troll grubs in existence. Also, the reason jades can't sneak out of the caverns anymore is “because they get Drone'd”, and it seems to be implied that they Can't go out At All*, which kinda contrasts with Friendsim (where literally all the jades snuck out of the caverns at least once: Lanque, Daraya and Wanshi in their own routes, Lynera in Vol 18, and Bronya in Vols 6 & 18). One of their tasks seems to be guarding Forbidden Literature, and Xefros states that they either cull or indoctrinate the most powerful psychic grubs.

-It's also stated that all of our jades were chosen for the cloister when they were basically wrigglers, while Lynera states in Friendsim that she's only been 2,43 sweeps in the caverns. (Considering Bronya's new backstory, it seems that capability to become a rainbow drinker ISN'T the qualifying factor for getting cloistered– depending on how exactly that jade died). It comes to mind that regular, non-cloistered jades might not really know about all these logistics, as it seems that at least Bronya wants to keep them secret– and therefore I don't have to go back and re-rewrite yet another chunk of Mirrorbent orz.

-Lastly, Xefros says they will all become nuns (btw, space church was mentioned in Lanque's route!) when they reach their Ordeals, and we already knew they'd be forced to live in isolation from Friendsim, but during the ace attorney thingy Lynera says she's NOT going to leave the planet because she'll become a midwife and tend to the Mother Grub (basically what we all thought jadebloods did back when we only had the ancestor stuff on Homestuck)... but either Daraya or Lanque told her that they weren't real? So either there's more jade propaganda that we didn't know about, or...

-*The one exception to this is, coincidentally, Jeevik Week, and it's apparently because Trizza herself made it so jades could go too, 3 or 4 sweeps before Hiveswap... why's that? What's so important about Jeevik Week that Trizza would do this? Iirc Cridea and Trizza were sort of set up as opposing forces (?? words), all the way back from the first bunch of concept arts we saw of them? The first thing we learnt from Trizza was that she was the “second best at memes”, and on Cridea's first appearance, when troll twitter was still Prongle, she said that some chick was stealing her memes... and now, Cridea has exactly one follower less than Trizza, who everyone in Alternia's forced to follow... would that person be the heiress herself?

[doodle--writes]

Temptations- Adult Eddie Kaspbrak X Reader

Word Count: 2968

Warnings: Cursing, smut, alcohol

Request: Hello! I was wondering if I could request a smut for adult Eddie Kaspbrak please? Maybe where the reader is a member of the losers club and her and Eddie had crushes on each other when they were younger and those feelings came back when they met up again at the restaurant. Maybe have it be set towards the end of the film and Eddie survives and figures what the hell and just gives into his feelings. Thank you so much in advance! ☺️

___

When Mike had called, you were in the middle of teaching a lesson to your fourth period class. At first, you had let the phone buzz in your purse. The second time, you let it buzz again. The third time, you sighed, just throwing the answer key to the previous night's assignment under the ELMO to let the kids check their own work.

You pulled out your phone and answered. "Hello Ms. L/N speaking- if you'd please call at a later time- I'm in the middle of a lesson."

"Y/N, it's Mike."

The class had gone quiet so they could try and hear your conversation. You gave them all a slightly scolding yet somewhat amused look as you stepped out of the classroom. Outside, you spotted a teacher with her plan period across the hall.

You hurried over, phone still near your face but not quite pushed against it.

"Hey Diana," you smiled nervously, "can you take my class for a few minutes? They're juniors, it shouldn't be much trouble."

Seeing you had your phone, she nodded with a small smile and wordlessly stepped into the classroom.

You started walking towards the teacher work room and put the phone back to your ear. "Hello, yes, I'm sorry about that. I had to leave my classroom," you sighed. You lightly shook your head and forced a smile although the mystery man on the other side of the line wouldn't be able to see it. "So, I don't believe I know a Mike. Are you sure this isn't the wrong Y/N?"

"I'm positive. It's Mike Hanlon, from Derry. We used to be friends."

"I-" you paused, something starting to poke at your memory. You began to walk a bit faster, heels clicking viciously against the tile floor. "You were homeschooled weren't you? Had a little farm?"

"There we go. You remember."

"Yeah I do," you hummed softly, now wondering why on earth he was calling you after... how long? ... 27 years?

"It's back."

When you woke up, you were laying on a sickbed in the school infirmary, your legs just barely fitting on it. You moved your legs to the floor and sat up. The room spun a bit but it slowed down after a few moments.

You didn't remember much after that other than the pain as you collapsed in the middle of the hallway and hushed but panicked voices nearing.

_____

A few footsteps shuffled in and began to bombard you with questions over whether or not you were alright. Truthfully, you weren't and you'd say you weren't, but with a totally different explanation.

"Oh you see, I had a family emergency. My mom... she..." You struggled to come up with an excuse since your mother had passed away about a decade prior.

Luckily, one of the staff members, Diana from earlier, changed the subject. "How many days do you need off?"

The flight and arrival in Derry was all blurred to you. You were shocked you had managed to function like an actual human being. Or at least you thought you did; you couldn't say for certain.

"Maybe a week," you smiled small, but you hoped, you prayed it was less.

_____

Although as you entered the Jade Orient, part of your sanity seemed to return. You were clearheaded as you talked to the hostess, mentioning that you were there for a party of eight.

She gestured back towards a seating area that was blocked off by a wooden screen. You were hesitant to enter, there was no doubt about that, but you stepped in and gave a sigh of relief. There was no jump scare or moment of shock; just faces you knew that had aged over the years.

Mike and Bill were engrossed in a conversation that made both of their eyes light up. You overheard something about Bill's writing- oh yeah Bill was a famous writer now- and Mike's library.

Now, the other two were antithetical in comparison; Richie and Eddie were sitting across from each other, making fun of each other, bantering.

You smiled to yourself. Just like old times.

Richie was in the middle of a 'your mom' joke before he looked up and whistled. "Oh damn who is that thiccums over there?"

Working with high school students, you knew exactly what that meant and you turned red, shaking your head, but unable to stop smiling. "Keep it in your pants Richard." You held your arms out to hug him. "But get your ass over here and give me a hug."

Richie nearly leaped from his seat, tripping over his gangly legs, and wrapped his equally long arms around you.

It felt weird having Richie, who used to be shorter than you, stand above six foot and hug you so tightly, but it felt nice.

After he pulled away, he laughed. "Shit, you're showing me up. I got the dad bod and here you are with childbearing hips and an itty bitty waist."

You laughed embarrassedly. "Oh Richie you're flattering me."

You turned back towards the table, ready to speak but you stopped yourself. Staring at you was a slender but sharp face with inquisitive eyes as big as a Disney princess. His nose had sharpened in angles over the years but very faintly you could see familiar freckles from sunshine trailing over both cheeks and his nose.

He smiled at you and you smiled back, feeling the heat of a childhood crush fill your cheeks. "Hi Eddie."

He was up on his feet in an instant, pulling you close and into a hug that was almost too tight. Just almost. Yet you found your embarrassment fading and your cockiness growinf. "Miss me that much?"

He pulled away almost immediately, rambling over how it was "so amazing to see you" and how you "grew up to look exactly like your mother".

You rolled your eyes but your smile stayed as you went to squish his cheeks. "And you haven't changed at all," you cooed.

And you drank. Richie drank. Bill drank. Mike drank. Even Eddie, who had scolded you once or twice for underage drinking, drank to the point of delight.

He lightly pushed your hand away before you turned to the rest of the group, laughing. "I don't know about you guys, but I need a drink!"

______

When Ben and Bev arrived, they joined the festivities.

You didn't quite remember how, but you ended up in Eddie's lap, giggling, feeling like a teenager again. He felt the same as he had an arm lazily wrapped around your waist.

He kept his arm there as he walked you back to the townhouse; neither of you felt like it was suitable to drive back with how drunk you were.

The walk upstairs was jovial as you swung your hands together and laughed even though no jokes were told.

But the air changed once you had reached the top. Eddie's bedroom was closest and you weren't sure if he dragged you in or if you had pulled him in, but that didn't matter at all.

As soon as the door was closed, arms were wrapped snug around your waist, a chest surprisingly tough pressed against yours.

Eddie was staring at you, mouth barely agape, breathless. Inside he was panicking some but God he knew he wanted this.

"Tell me to stop," he warned.

You returned his look, but yours carried a smugness to it; like you were confident in the first place that things would go accordingly.

"Don't you dare stop."

With that, Eddie's mouth slammed against yours in a way that threw you off guard entirely. Eddie, as long as you had known him, had been somewhat pristine. Sure, he could be as loud as Richie and much angrier, and he was no Stan, but Eddie always had a neatness to him.

So to see him do something so intense, so sloppy took your breath away.

You kissed him back with a similar if not equal force that made your lips tingle and burn.

Your arms planted themselves around his neck; your hands grasped onto fistfuls of hair just as soft and thick as it had been before Eddie even hit puberty.

Eddie pulled away slightly, your lips maybe a centimeter apart, foreheads pressed together. "Maybe we should move this to the bed?" He phrased it more so as a question than a statement.

You nearly agreed, but you remembered something. "Eddie, we can't. You're married." You pulled your arms away from him and stepped back. "I don't care if your marriage isn't going well. I don't want to be the one to make you cheat." You looked to the ground, feeling as if you had sobered up.

Eddie stepped back a foot and tried to look anywhere that wasn't you. "Y-yeah, right. Sorry, I think I drank too much."

"I did too." You slowly made your way closer to the door before you told him, "have a good night, Eddie."

The following hours and days, you weren't exactly sure how long the process of killing a demon clown was, were grueling. Yet, all of you made it.

He mumbled something in return, but you didn't hear it because you were already down the hall.

_____

Yes, there were extremely terrifying moments that made you feel like you pissed yourself. Like when: Bill nearly drowned in water, Richie got put in the deadlights, Mike tried to get you all to do a ritual that killed the original casters, Ben had more shit carved into his stomach, Bev nearly drowned in blood, Eddie was stabbed in the fucking face, and you nearly suffocated at one point.

You took joy in watching the house on Neibolt Street collapse into itself. That house that had haunted you for nearly three decades was finally gone.

You looked around at your friends. Everyone was dirty and covered in blood of their own or even someone else's. "Hey guys," you began, "how about we go swimming?"

A small chorus of delayed and tired 'yeah's followed. All of you walked through town, ignoring those who looked at you like you were insane.

About halfway there, Eddie squirmed his way next to you and reached out for your hand.

After the quarry, you all went back to the townhouse, deciding to rest up before you'd all inevitably leave Derry once again. Only this time, you wouldn't forget. You'd remember your friends and go on in life with them as your friends.

You let him.

___

Quietly, you walked to your room and as soon as you could, you took a long shower. You took great care in getting all of the blood and dirt off of your skin. You washed beneath your nails. You spent time carefully working the knots out of your hair.

Once you were out, you walked to your luggage, going through it for anything comfortable. You wondered if you had left some things from a previous trip inside because you did not remember packing lingerie.

You thought about it for a moment before saying fuck it and you put on the lingerie with a small satin robe over it.

Just as you tied the robe, a knock came on the door. "Y/N, may I come in?" It was Eddie's voice.

"Yeah come on in, Eddie," you called, going to sit on the end of your bed.

Eddie carefully opened the door, and peeked his head inside before he completely appeared. You noted that he was wearing gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. You had never seen Eddie in sweats before and you weren't complaining at the change.

Eddie's cheeks went red at the sight of you but he sat next to you nonetheless.

"So I called it off with Myra."

Those were not at all the words you expected.

"Woah Eddie, I'm sorry." You reached out to put your hand on his shoulder.

He sighed and turned toward you. "This week made me realize something. Well, more accurately, it made me remember something." He takes one of your hands between his own. "I care for you more than anyone else. You make me laugh, you make smile, you make me brave. You do all these things to me and I know what that means. I think I've known since we were kids." He looks into your eyes. "I love you."

You practically tackled Eddie, knocked him back onto the mattress and kissed him. It was a soft kiss, but it lingered as you cupped his non injured cheek with your hand. "I love you too Eddie. So much."

You kissed him again, slightly harder this time and planted yourself to where you were straddling him.

It didn't take long for you to feel something underneath you. Just the thought of it was enough to drive you crazy.

Just like Eddie had said once before, you looked down at him and said, "tell me to stop."

He quickly shook his head. He wanted this even though he wasn't exactly sure what all of this entailed.

You leaned down to kiss him once again before dragging your lips down to his jaw. You found a spot that made his breath hitch in his throat and decided to mark it, gently biting and sucking until you left a deep purple mark there.

Eddie groaned before switching gears. You were the one laying on your back as Eddie kneeled between your legs. "Can we get this robe off?"

You leaned up a little before untying the robe and tossed it to the floor.

Eddie took a moment to stare at you. You wore baby doll lingerie; essentially a type of intimate nightgown that's usually see through.

That's exactly how yours was. He could see your nipple starting to poke at the fabric, stretching it.

He reached down and gently squeezed your chest, earning a shaky breath. He moved to cup your breast, his thumb tracing your nipple. You whined a bit at the feeling of lace scratching over it and the feeling of Eddie's hand.

It had admittedly been quite a while since you had the touch of someone other than your own hand or a Hitachi so you felt extremely sensitive.

In a swift movement, Eddie pulled the fabric away from your chest entirely and replaced his thumb with his tongue. You moaned quietly as he began to work on your chest. His hand found its way to your other breast.

Your legs tried to clench but Eddie sat between them and once he felt that, he moved his attention downwards.

He moved back and grabbed the waistband of your panties. He looked at you. "May these come off?"

You nodded. "Yes take them off. Please."

He gingerly slid them down your legs before tossing them onto your robe.

He leaned down between your legs but didn't use his mouth yet. Instead, he tested the waters with one finger, first rubbing your clit, which earned a whine. Then he stuck a finger in to see exactly how needy you were. The answer? Very.

Eddie began to methodically finger you while his tongue flicked against your clit repeatedly. Just knowing that Eddie was the one doing it made your heart beat fast and your head dizzy.

"Eddie," you moaned, "more."

With that, Eddie added a second finger and began to curl them inside of you, earning a somewhat loud gasp. You put your hand over your mouth, fully aware that Richie's room was the next one over and man you did not want that conversation tomorrow morning.

It didn't take long for you to tangle your fingers in Eddie's hair and chant his name. He ate you out more viciously, his fingers pumping in and out at a rate that made you dripping wet.

When your orgasm came, you bucked your hips up, moaned into your hand, and squirted. Luckily Eddie was out of the way by that point. You knew how he was about bodily fluids but he didn't seem to mind right then.

He leaned down and kissed you. You were much more eager in the kiss as you tried to get over the high of your orgasm. He whispered praises into your ear and after a moment, you switched it over again.

Now Eddie was beneath you as you slid his sweats and boxers down in one swoop.

You looked at Eddie. "Do you care whether or not we use a condom?"

He shook his head, surprising himself. "Not at all."

You whispered a small "thank god" before lining yourself up with him. You slid down onto him with a lewd mew.

Eddie's hands found themselves on your hips, lightly squeezing. A nearly lightheaded feeling washed over you, but you admittedly wanted more.

You brought your hips back up before sliding down onto his cock again, making both of you groan.

You rested your hands on his chest as both of you whimpered and groans at each slap of your thighs against his torso.

It felt like an embarrassingly short time before your thighs tried to clench around him.

It felt embarrassing for him as well once he began to feel the coil in his stomach tighten.

You came with a rather pornographic moan and your walls tightened around Eddie. The sensation was enough to finish him off, making him cum.

Breathlessly, sex drives and overall shape not as great as it used to be, the both of you lay down.

You find yourself cuddling into Eddie's chest as one of his legs lazily lays over your own.

Eddie sighs happily. "Well that's like a wet dream come true."

You giggle. "And one hell of a way to start a relationship."

Eddie smiles softly. "I love you."

"I love you too."

[thisonesforfanfic]

Light in the Dark (5/?)

Bucky x Reader

A/N: Still not sure if I have to put any warnings, please tell me if you think any are needed :)

Summary: The boys come back from the war for a while, and Bucky takes you on a date

Word Count: 2.3 k

You were eager to see them again. Steve and Bucky had been gone for a while now, and you missed them like crazy. Yeah, sure, it's not like you knew them your whole life, but they had been so good to you ever since the moment you met them, ever since their last visit, you'd get at least a telegram or letter a week from them, always checking on you or secretly letting you know if they weren't going to be able to send anything for a while. And at those moments, your heart ached, though you tried to send them cheerful and happy letters back, everytime.

You could feel your heart pounding on your throat as the train arrived at the station, your glance running through every single window, looking for a sign of the men's blue eyes. 

"Y/N!" Your eyes filled with tears of joy as you saw Bucky and Steve rushing towards you

"Thank God!" you let out with relief, jumping into Bucky's open arms. He spins you around in joy, finally listening to your sweet laugh again

"I missed you so much doll" he put you down and hugged you tight, burrying his face on your shoulder, breathing in your scent

"Me too, Bucky" you pulled away to embrace Steve "And you too Steve!" your cheeks were hurting as you couldn't stop smiling from ear to ear "I actually can't believe my eyes right now"

"Well, you should" Steve chuckled "Because someone couldn't shut up about that reward you promised for the whole trip, right Buck?"

"Shut up, punk" You let go of Steve to see the red taking over Bucky's cheeks, letting a loud laugh escape through the smile

"No, no, please, tell me about the supposedly heroic act!" you were practically skipping in place with your hands joined together, jokingly pleading to Steve

"Best thing I can remember is him not hitting on any nurses" Bucky sent him a bothered look

"Punk" He let out under his breath, then turned to you "Doesn't 'going to war' count in on itself?"  

"You remember I said 'maybe', right James?" His eyebrows frowned as if he was a puppy that had just fallen of a moving car "What kind of girl do you take me for?" you put your hands on your waist. Bucky's whole face was bright red, and you bursted into laughter 

"Haha" Bucky took a minute to get your joking manner, and it made the situation even funnier for you and Steve, who could barely breath

"You'll have to at least buy me a drink first" you winked

"Let's go, pair of clowns" shaking his head, he started walking away with his bag, while Steve put his arms around your shoulder as you followed Bucky. 

Steve stayed by your side, and Bucky was a few steps ahead, but still listening to Steve as he told you about their missions. As you got to your apartment, Bucky finally faced you, with a serious expression

"I'll be here at seven" then, he turned away

"What bit him on the way back?" you looked up at Steve to see him shrugging his shoulders

"I guess you'll find out at seven" once your door was unlocked, he then held you again for a moment "See you tomorrow doll?"

"I will need help from someone who doesn't get drunk" Steve shook his head with a chuckle

"Alright then... Had I known I would become a sitter everytime we go to a bar, I would've had second thoughts about the whole serum experience"

��6:30

Twirling in front of the mirror, you were second guessing the third dress you had tried on before the date. None of them seemed to be the perfect one, and it was getting closer and closer to the hour. Your last hope was the emerald green one, hanging in the back of the closet, you hesitantly grabbed the hanger and took a good look at it. It was off-shoulder, tea-lenght with a pleaded skirt "here goes nothing" you slipped into it and looked in the mirror again.

The green in contrast with your skin was gorgeous, you couldn't even believe your eyes. It was perfect, you didn't remember it fitting you so flawlessly, the stripes hanging just below the shoulder, your hips comfortably fitted, and the flowing skirt beneath it. You didn't put much make up on, and pulled part of your hair back on a neat half bun at the back of your head

Almost instantly after you finished getting ready, you heard the door and ran downstairs. You opened it to see an extremely well dressed Bucky, on an Oxford blue suit, holding a bouquet of pink heather flowers on his hands. You thanked yourself for not putting any rouge on, since your cheeks were naturally blushed with the sight of him

"You're early" Smiling at him   

"And you are stunning" he handed you the flowers with a wink. You forgot you had told him about them. Heather flowers were your favourite, small and with a sutil, soothing scent. "Shall we go, doll?" he offered his hand for you to hold

"Let me just put these in water, come on in for a second" climbing up the steps with Bucky right behind you "So... What are we doing tonight?" the only sound was the tap running as you filled a vase with water. You started wondering if you said something that bothered him "You know... you were acting so strange on the way back from the station, did I say-"

"It's a surprise doll" He cut you off before you could start blaming yourself for the jokes you had made, with a smirk on his face "Now, can we go?"

You looped your arm on his as he lead you through the streets, guiding you to the carnival. 

"Really? I didn't take you for a man who liked these" you looked at Bucky with one eyebrow arched, he shrugged as he glanced at the booths "Bet you never won a thing for any of the ladies you brought here" you laughed as his arms tensed when you mentioned other girls

"Don't worry James" you were a proud smile on your face as you walked to a booth "I'll win you one"

"There's no way, this whole thing is rigged" he said as he stopped you from reaching into your purse "And also, you are not spending a cent tonight" paying the man himself, then handing you three tiny sandbags

"Watch and learn, Barnes" the cans all fell on the first strike, along with Bucky's jaw "Which one do you want, doll?" smirking shamelessly

He was laughing, still in disbelief as you handed him the stuffed bear with a bright red bow.

"I can't believe you did that" he put his arm around your shoulder pulling you closer as you walked through the carnival

You played some more, laughing with eachother and rode the carrousel before leaving to get some dinner. After that, you headed back to your bar, it was meant to be closed today, so it was just you and Bucky. 

You sat side by side at the counter, pouring out of a special whisky bottle into two glasses, you caught Bucky's stare "what?" you asked while closing the bottle

"I love you" his words left his mouth before he could stop them, fear immediatly showing through his eyes "I mean- I-" before he could continue, you put your hands on his face, pulling him closer, and let your lips clash onto his.

He was hesitant for a second, then realizing what was happening, Bucky held you closer by the waist, the warmth and sweetness of your lips dominated him, he kissed you back passionately, his tongue taking control of yours before you pulled away to catch your breath. Resting your forehead on his, you stared into his eyes, he was confused, waiting for a verbal response

You were lost for words, you loved that man, Bucky was everything you wanted, but you were afraid, you didn't know what to say, how to say it. He pulled back to look at you properly

"Y/N, I didn't mean to startle you" he began, scratching the back of his head "I have never felt this way before... That is, you are different- special"

"You don't know what you are talking about James" you were shocked by the fact he wanted you "You can have any girl you want, why me?" you took a gulp of the whisky and then he smiled

"That's why" you looked down at your glass and then back at him, with one eyebrow arched

"Because I give you good scotch?" he chuckled at your disbelief

"Because you are confident, proud of who you are, as smart as they come" you blushed at his speech "extremely beautiful, knows how to throw a punch, independent... But, most of all-" he let his face get closer to yours "you are one of the most uplifting spirits I have ever met. And no one, not even Steve, can make me laugh like you can"

"Bucky, I-" you looked down, avoiding his eyes as you felt your face burning

"The way my name sounds in your voice, how you are always willing to help anyone in need, the way you drink like a sailor" he chuckled as you put your glass down, feeling a little embarassed "I can list everything that's great abut you all night. You are everything I want Y/N.... Give me a chance"

"I don't know what to say, I.." you finally looked up at him, with hope and fear mixed in his eyes "Bucky, I wanted you ever since that first night" he lit up "I was kind of trying to get rid of you when I asked you to help me, I'd never thought you would actually help. I knew right at that moment the man you were, and..." You paused, sipping on the glass while trying to find the words, Bucky rested his hands on your knees "What I'm trying to say is... I think your are special to me too"

"Is that all?" He taunted you, raising an eyebrow "I feel like that kiss had a little more than just 'you're special"

"I can't really think straight when all my blood is flowing to my face" you shrugged with a smile "I don't think I can put in words everything I feel for you" you could feel the tears coming "You helped me in one of the most difficult moments in my life, and I don't think I can ever repay you- You are all I want"

He couldn't hold back any longer, as he saw the tears trying  to escape from your eyes, Bucky leaned in, letting lips brush yours softly, just long enough to soothe you, slowly his lips travel through your skin, until he found your neck. The nibbling on your skin made a quiet moan leave your mouth, and you let your hand travel over his suit, desperate to feel more of him.

"We should go" your voice was breathy, Bucky's eyes were immeadiatly on yours

"Did I- do something wrong?" he sounded worried, afraid he had crossed a line, moving too far

"No, I mean-" you handed him the glasses and grabbed the bottle, getting up and heading for the door "We should go" turning to him and pointing at the celing. Your apartment

Quiclky locking the entrance and practically running to your door, Bucky's hands were on you again before you could finish turning the lock on the inside. You wrap yourself around him as he lifted you up, heading up the stairs, this time, your face burried on his neck, kissing every inch of it, making your way up to his ear, letting your tongue trace it carefully before whispering

"I love you too, Bucky"

He put you down for a second when you reached the living room, putting the glasses and bottle on the table. Bucky stood there watching you bite your lower lip, curious to know what his next move was going to be.

He took a deep breath, and wrapped his arms around you. No kiss, just his lustful glance locked on yours.  

"I don't want you to regret this, doll" he paused, looking for any signs of hesitation

"I won't James" your lips softly toched his "I want you, I've wanted you for quite a while now... The only thing I could ever regret is letting this moment go to waste" his smile widened, then kissed you softly, the slow movements picking up the pace as the kiss grew more passionate and more heated. 

Leading him to your bedroom, not letting your lips part, you let him have all of you. That night, you were his, and he was finally yours.

 In the morning, none of you dared to move, you rested your head on Bucky's bare chest, listening to his heartbeat, while he stroked your hair gently. Comfort you both had been aching for, finally fulfilled.

About half an hour of serene silence, Bucky asked if you wanted to eat something, offering to make breakfast

"Well aren't you a keeper, James" he groaned at his name, making you giggle "If you make me breakfast every day, I may start using 'Bucky' more often"

"You seemed quite comfortable saying it again and again last night" he scoffed "And also, what kind of man do you take me for?" mimicking the face you had made yesterday

"In that case" you jumped off the bed, grabbing a ring from your nightstand and getting down on one knee "James Buchanan Bucky Barnes, will you do me the honor of making me breakfast everyday" barely holding back the laughter beneath your smile

"No way! That'd be my question to ask" he sat on the bed, crossing his arms and frowning. You stood up chuckling and sat on his lap, your arms wrapping around his neck

"I'm pretty sure you lost that spot when I was the one to win you that teddy bear" your smirk was interrupted by Bucky's lips, roughly pressing against yours

"Then I'll get it back, right now" his whisper against your lips was followed by him grabbing and throwing you back in bed, his body hovering over yours

"I suppose breakfast can wait"

########

Thanks for reading!

[obviouslyelementary]

Routine - Reddie

This fanfic is for my friend @kourank-nerdyrobots because they are a cutie I love you <3

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

Before Derry, before receiving that dreadful call from Mike just before his show, getting sick and having to cancel it; before going back to Derry, remembering his own friends, eating some delicious Chinese food and getting spooked by lucky biscuits; before finding out that Stan, one of his best friends in the world, killed himself out of fear of what could come; after almost giving up on all his friends, almost leaving to probably have the same fate as Stan, and then coming back and helping them defeat the motherfucking evil clown shit; before all that, his routine was simple.

He had never been a guy to care much for his health. He started smoking as soon as he got into high school, probably out of Beverly's influence; he drank a lot of booze during college, enough to leave any sane six foot guy turned over with extreme nausea; his bathroom was the cleanest part of his flat, which was awful because it was always dirty and disgusting and as soon as he got enough money the first thing he used it for was to hire a clean up lady at least once a week; and he ate way too much fast food and noodles, more than he would ever admit.

And after he became famous, rich, and started to do shows all the time, it got even worst. His routine went from lazy college student to rich asshole. He barely cooked any food, always preferring to ask from a restaurant nearby. He went out for drinks all the time with his manager or his friends from work, which also added to his liver problem later on. Nothing he couldn't manage, but he could have avoided some runs to the hospital if he had drank one beer less or something. He also never stopped smoking, although he did hide it after the 2000s because people didn’t think it was cool anymore, and his drinking habits got worst and worst, not to the point of no return, but certainly more than he would have ever wanted it to. And of course, he either slept two hours each night or twelve, which also wasn't good for any human being.

Basically, he continued being the mess he had always been, but worst, since he didn’t have anyone to correct his ways, or try to. All his friends fed into his addictions without any solution, and thus he didn't care about his well being at all. He had always been bad at taking care of himself.

But then, Derry came. And with Derry, something magical happened. Something beyond Richie's wildest expectations.

And now, oh now his routine was awfully different.

Now, apart from days after shows, he tended to wake up around eight o'clock, nine the latest if he had had a rough time sleeping the night prior. He made the bed, fed the dog, the cat, and changed into sweatpants and a tank top for a quick run around the neighborhood. It usually lasted from twenty minutes to forty, depending on how much he was feeling it in the day, but he found that time enough to keep himself in shape. He would return home, let the cat wonder in the backyard while he walked the dog around the block, and then he would return, put the cat and dog inside, and head for a shower.

After a shower, he would change into comfy clothes and make himself some breakfast. He would open the windows and let the air inside, even if it was raining because it felt good, and he would eat breakfast while checking some news on his phone or some comments on his work. When he was finished, he would wash the dishes and head to his office or bring his PC to the living room, sit on the couch and work on his scripts for the next shows he had in mind. He would work until around two, when he would get up and either cook some lunch or ask something somewhat healthy for himself. He would also feed the dog and cat again, and play with them a little while he waited for the food to arrive, or after he ate his lunch. Then, he would lay down on the couch, and the pets would lay around him usually, the dog next to the couch and the cat behind his legs, and he would watch a game or some TV series he liked for around an hour or so, so then he could go back to work.

The routine was neat and simple, and he actually loved it. Richie never thought he would become what sexist men called a 'caged animal', but truly that was the best way of life. He was able to do everything he enjoyed without getting stressed, and he had plenty of time to relax and play with the pets or just be lazy around the house. And then, he just had to wait for night to come, to cook some dinner for two.

Oh yes, two. Around seven he would begin to make dinner, something simple and sweet, maybe some wine to go with it or just some juice or soda, nothing big. He found out that he loved cooking, specially when someone else would enjoy it with him. It felt so nice, to do something so simple and yet so sweet to someone he loved so much.

Richie usually knew when someone arrived, because doggie Stan got mad about it, barking and wiggling his little tail all over the place. Specially when it was his daddy who was coming home. Richie always cooed at him because he too could feel his own imaginary tail wiggling. He was completely in love, and he couldn't really deal with it very well yet.

That particular night, he decided to make some simple chicken with potatoes for dinner, and while they were in the oven, he came home. Stan started barking like a mad dog, running to the door with his tiny paws making sweet sounds on the wooden floor, and as the door opened Richie saw the briefcase being placed down and the puppy being picked up. Fuck. Richie felt like he was thirteen and stupid every time.

"Hello Stanny, how was your day? Did daddy take care of you? I bet he did" Eddie said, standing by the door with his fancy suit and his sweet smile as he kissed and petted the little puppy dog, letting him lick his face just a little. "Awn I missed you too honey, I missed you too."

From the depths of the house, a loud meow was heard, and Eddie laughed as he got inside the house, closing and locking the door behind himself and letting Stan down to the floor. He pet him once more and then focused on the cat, who walked to him slowly, tail high in the air, meowing like crazy.

"I missed you too honey, come here" Eddie cooed, and the cat meowed louder, standing in front of him and then jumping up to his arms. Eddie laughed and held the cat close, hugging it gently, petting it slowly. "Yes I missed you too Penny... yes I did" he said, kissing her head while she meowed and rubbed her cheek against his, making him chuckle with fondness. He pet her a little more and put her on the ground, before looking up again and smiling. "Oh. You're here too then."

Sometimes Richie forgot he even existed when Eddie got in the room.

"I sure am. You know I never leave the house anyway" Richie said with a chuckle, and Eddie rolled his eyes with a fondness that made Richie's heart almost combust. Eddie took off his suit, the tie and undid a few buttons to make himself more comfortable, before he walked all the way to Richie and looked down at him.

"I smell chicken" he said, and Richie nodded.

"Yeah that's what they say I smell like" he said, and Eddie let out a chuckle and shook his head before leaning further down, tilting his head and oh.

Richie would never get used to it.

The kiss lasted a second and Richie still managed to blush somehow. Eddie pulled back, stretched and yawned, before turning around and taking the clothes he had removed.

"I'm going to take a shower and I will be right back" he said, leaving the room and walking inside, and Richie just watched him, wondering for the ten billionth time how the hell he had managed to be this happy. He didn't know, but he sure as fuck loved it.

When Eddie returned, now with sweatpants and one of Richie's large merch shirts, looking all comfy and smelling so good, they sat down for dinner and talked about their days. Eddie fed the animals and cleaned up their duties while Richie washed the dishes, and they went to the couch to enjoy some time together, watching some movie or series they liked. Richie sat down on the couch with Eddie between his legs and they talked about a bunch of nothings, and sometimes they kissed, and it felt fucking amazing.

Then, Eddie would get tired and they would go to sleep, and sometimes they would have sex and sometimes they would just talk or sometimes they would just sleep, but it still felt nice, in the same amazing way.

And in the next day, everything would repeat itself: waking up, jogging, cooking, working, cooking, spending time with Eddie, and this routine seemed... perfect.

Richie never thought he was a man of routine, but honestly, he loved it.

He simply loved it.

[sortasirius]

In Stitches

Pairing: Dean/Cas because I’m predictable

AN: This is way longer than I thought it would be and is very fluffy and sort of a 15x02/15x03 coda?  I mean it’s not gonna happen but a girl can dream.

Warnings: None really, just a little Supernatural-like violence and a lot of fluff, my opinions of what’s on The Mixtape lmao

Words: 1640 bc I know no chill.

On my AO3 here.

Cas is bleeding.

He’s used to it now, the stinging pain of the night air on the open wound on his arm, the warm trickles of blood turning cool as they hit the air.  He had been hurt in the last eleven years more than he had in the last ten thousand, but that was just a part of being a Winchester he supposed.

Dean throws him a towel, shoving Sam, who is semi-conscious, in the front seat, while Belphegor scrambles in next to Cas and Rowena is already settled in the back, breathing hard. Cas holds the towel to his arm, turning it from white it deep red, as Dean peals off and starts hauling ass in the direction of the Bunker.

Needless to say, their latest plot to stop the hundreds of ghosts Chuck had released into the world had not gone so well.  Rowena had tried everything; some of the most powerful magic in the known Universe, but in they had burst, hundreds of them, while Sam, Dean, Cas tried their best to take out as many as they could, there’s only so much three of them can do.  Rowena was weak from the spell and it’s not like Belphegor was chomping at the bit to help, so they had fought their way to the Impala and booked it out of there.

They screech into the Bunker’s garage at around 3 in the morning.  Dean and Cas half carry, half drag Sam to his room, where Cas uses the last of his energy to heal every wound he can find on Sam.  There’s nothing he can do about the wound in Sam’s shoulder, which is changing rapidly, turning from red to green to purple and then back to red.  He and Dean look at each other as Sam sleeps between them.

“This doesn’t look good, Dean.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“I can’t heal this.”

Dean sighs, looking at Sam,

“Thanks Cas, you did all you could.”

Dean looks over at him, green eyes catching blue.

“Let me stitch that up, I know you spent all your mojo on him.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

They end up in Dean’s room, Cas sitting on the edge of the bed, sinking into the memory foam that Dean is so proud of, while Dean pulls his desk chair around, setting up shop on the bedside table.  Hydrogen peroxide, thread, a sterilized needle, soap and water, clean bandages, all the things that Cas had seen Dean use a thousand times.  Cas looks around for Dean, and finds him in front of his stereo and cassette tapes.

“Can’t stitch you up in silence.”

A moment passes, and Cas reaches into his pocket and pulls out the tape that Dean had given him.  Dean’s Top 13 Zepp Traxx.  Dean flits a smile at him and sets it into the stereo.  “When the Levee Breaks” starts playing gently, and Dean sets to work on Cas’s arm.

The cut is deep, and stings worse than ever when Dean starts cleaning the blood away with the peroxide.  He stiffens and sucks a breath in.

“Don’t be a baby.”

But Dean is gentle when he continues, cleaning the blood away.  It takes them three songs to get through the cleaning.  “Black Dog” and “Bring it on Home” follow “When the Levee Breaks, and Dean hums as he threads his needle and starts carefully sewing Cas up.  Neat and identical stitches, like a line of soldiers.

“How’d this happen anyway?” Dean asks, as “You Shook Me” fades to “Custard Pie.”

“I’m not sure.  It was either the clown or the tall faceless man with the axe.”

Dean scoffs.

“You take care of him?”

“You mean did I shoot him with salt?  Indeed I did.”

Cas hopes he isn’t imagining the pride on Dean’s face.

Dean continues to stitch, tongue between his teeth, and Cas watches him unashamedly, the furrow between his eyebrows, the three day stubble on his cheeks, the scratches on his face from one of the ghosts.

“I should have healed you before we started.”

“Huh?” Dean meets his eyes again.  Trees meeting water.

“That’s okay, Cas, they’re just scratches.”

They fall back into silence.  The steady beat of “Kashmir” replaces “Stairway to Heaven.”

As Dean finishes he stitches, he runs his hand down Cas’ arm, admiring his handiwork.

“You are very good at this.”

Dean’s eyes flick to him again.  His tongue darts out and wets his lips, and Cas tries his best not to stare.

“Yeah, well, I’ve had a lot of practice.”

Dean tests the water with his hands as “For Your Life” plays.

“I can finish up if you-”

“No, that’s okay.”

Dean takes his arm again, warm skin on warm skin, and starts cleaning the dried blood around the now neat stitches running their way up Cas’ forearm. It takes some time, three more songs to be precise. “Whole Lotta Love,” “I Can’t Quit You Baby” and, one of Cas’ favorites “How Many More Times.”

He still remembers when Dean gave him the tape.  It was one of the only times he had ever seen Dean shy, but he had come to Cas with his eyes to the floor, more red in the face than he ever would have admitted, and had pushed the tape into Cas’ hands.  Cas remembered reading the label and looking up at Dean, knowing how much this meant to him.

“They go from 13 to 1.  The last one is my favorite.  Took me 45 minutes to pick which one was last,” he had said with a shy smile.  He refused to listen to it with him,

“I don’t want to influence you.”

Cas had spent the whole night listening to the tape over and over, making notes in a notebook, and he knocked on Dean’s door the next morning.

“The last three are my favorite.  Especially “How Many More Times.””

Dean’s face split into a radiant smile, the kind of smile that made Cas feel like he was standing in the sun on a spring day.

“That’s a great one, one of my favorites.  Obviously, I guess.”

Suddenly, he’s taken out of the memory by a stab of pain.  Dean is back on his arm with the peroxide.

“That hurts, Dean.”

“Sorry, sorry, but you don’t want to get an infection.”

“Well, you know I can’t actually-”

“Ok Cas.”

As the final notes of “Traveling Riverside Blues” play on the stereo, Dean straightens up.

“Ok, you should be fine.”

Cas stretches his arm, wincing as the muscles strain.

“If you rip those stitches I’ll kick your ass.”

Cas smiles at him.

“I suppose I should go find Rowena and Belphegor, make sure they’re not in trouble.”

“Hey Cas,” said Dean, catching his arm, his good arm, that is, “What did you mean back in...”

He trails off, clearly not wanting to finish his sentence.  Is he embarrassed or just afraid.  Cas is definitely afraid, he’s always afraid when it comes to losing Dean.  Who would have thought, Heaven’s most devoted soldier turned into something Heaven never intended for him, something almost human.

“Dean, I believe that no matter what, Chuck cannot take away what we mean to each other,” he pauses, not wanting to make Dean uncomfortable, “You, me, Sam.”

Dean wilts a little.

“Oh.”

He starts to walk away, and Cas suddenly feels like he’s holding water that’s slipping through his fingers.

“Dean I just meant-”

Right on cue, the last song on the tape clicked on.  Dean’s favorite, “Ramble On.”  Dean pauses, looking from the stereo back to Cas.

Dean takes a deep breath, looks at Cas, and starts speaking too quickly.

“It’s just that, I really thought that, when we were talking, that you were, that maybe it was, I don’t know, that it was you and me.  That you meant that you and me, what we have is real. That-” he breaks off, “I don’t know.”

Cas takes a step towards Dean, almost unconsciously.  His brain has almost turned off, all he can see is Dean, he isn’t even thinking about what he’s saying.

“I did mean that, Dean.  I do mean that.  I just...I didn’t know how to say it,or if was even right to say it.”

Dean takes another step towards him.

“Yeah well, neither of us are really great with feelings.”

They’re inches away from each other now.  It’s not like they ever had any idea of personal space, but there is something different about this, like someone has picked up a barrier between them.  Cas is desperately aware of the heat coming off of Dean, how hard they are both breathing, how the tips of his fingers tingle with energy, longing to reach out and touch.

Cas is barely aware of the silence in the room.  The mixtape had ended, but it feels like there’s almost a roar in his ears.  Fittingly, they lean forward simultaneously, bridging the gap and giving into what was almost eleven years of sheer buildup.

Cas shouldn’t be surprised by anything anymore, but the softness of Dean, how gently he pulls Cas towards him, how softly he threads his fingers through Cas’ hair.

He’s not sure how long they stand there, pressed flush against each other, but it’s long enough that they hear Sam stirring in the room next to them.  They pull away, Cas missing Dean’s touch immediately.  Dean reaches up and brushes his thumb along Cas bottom lip.  Cas leans into him, and they stay that way for several moments, before they hear Sam stumbling down the hallway, calling their names.

“Just for the record,” Dean says, smiling at Cas as he stands at the door, “I’m glad that you and me are real.”

Cas smiles back at him, running his hands down the neat stitches on his arm.

“Me too.”

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Not complete until there’s three

A/N: for some reason I did something and now I had to re-upload this so yeah 

Summary: Mike’s call brings back some memories for Stan, more specifically memories about Stan and Richie. Stan is in for a rough awakening when he comes back to Derry and finds out Richie and Bill are married. 

The last thing Stanley Uris would ever want to do, is go back to Derry. He doesn’t want to, so he’s not going too. Those are the thoughts that are rumbling through his brain as his forces out a ‘I’ll be there’ to Mike before turning down the phone.

For a second he sits frozen, he’s absolutely terrified and he feels it throughout his entire body, like taking a cold shower. The voice of his wife is what snaps him out of it, a graceful, soft sound that he loved listening to up until 5 seconds ago, but now makes the bile rise up in his throat.

 He drives himself to turn to her with a smile on his face, he’s perfected the art of doing this, pretending that everything’s okay while an internal storm is going on.

 He stand quietly, but not before announcing that he is going to take a bath. He walks past his wife, to reach into the cabinet where they keep the towels, because he knows that’s what his wife expects him to do, and begins walking up the stairs. He’s going to take a bath, only he doesn’t. The only way to get to the bathroom is by going through the light green bedroom, which is always indescribably neat, and stops as his hand is already around the doorknob.

 He turns around and glances over to the closet. The one where he tried to bury a sad and uncomfortable feeling. He backtracks until he is standing in front of it, and He quietly reaches out. He knows exactly how far he’s allowed to pull the closet door, before it makes a creaking sound that is heard all the way down to the living room, which isn’t much, but he doesn’t need to look to find what he’s looking for. When he retreats his hand, he’s a holding a picture, one that he found a couple years ago, only back then the picture made him feel such an intense love and sadness all at once, that he placed it on the bottom of his closet, with his shoes to cover it up.

 He couldn’t remember who was in the picture, he could recognize himself, that much he knows. But there were two other boys with him, one with black unruly hair and glasses so big it was like they were magnitude glasses, and a boy with short brown-reddish hair who was wearing a flannel that seemed to big even for him. The guy with the glasses was spread out across Stan’s leg and the other boy, while Stan had a hand in his hair, and the other boy that was sitting up was looking at him fondly.

Stan had his head on the shoulder of the boy in flannels, who in turn had his arm wrapped around Stan. All 3 of them were shining brightly. Stan knew this picture was taking somewhere around his high school days, knew only because he knows for a fact that he threw away the t-shirt he was wearing, right when he left for college. He didn’t even remember why he threw it away, but it hurt to look so he didn’t keep it. Only now, with Mikes call, does he remember that the shirt was Bill’s and he had given it to Stan someday after lunch because he had a spare in his locker, and Richie had accidentally dunked his entire coke on Stan’s. No, Stanley Uris couldn’t remember for the life of him who these boys were, but right now, he breath hitched and while tracing the boy’s faces he let out their names as a sigh, ‘Bill, Richie’.

 He took a step out on his balcony, which was also connected to their bedroom, and took a few stuttering breaths. He didn’t want to go back to Derry, didn’t want to fight a goddamn child eating clown, but know that he remember his two high school lovers, he couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing them again. He wondered if they felt the same way when Mike had called, and if each of the losers had their own identity crisis at the moment.

Stan knew that he wasn’t straight, he had gone on dates with boys, but nobody even gave him a slightly good impression, so it always stayed with one date. He liked girls too though, and he had met Patty. And Stan was satisfied, had been living a content live with Patty, only know he knows how big his heart had once been filled with love for his boys, he knew he could never be content with Patty again. He couldn’t live his life like that anymore. Maybe that was the reason he decides to skip his bath time, something he hadn’t done in 20 years, packed his suitcase and left for Derry

It seemed that Stan really was the only with an identity crisis after getting called. At least the only one out of the three old lovers. Stan had been late, the last one to arrive from the losers, but coming in his vision latched on to Richie and bill’s hands straight away. They were holding hands. He tried to make it discreet yet he couldn’t help but look at their hands every few seconds, while saying hello to the other losers. He got to Bill and Richie last, and shared an awkward hug and a hello with both of them. He wondered if the remembered their relationship, and if that was the reasons they were standing so closely together, almost like they were one person.

Stan pointedly ignored the slice of jealousy that rips through him, trying to suppress the feeling as fast as he can. He feels embarrassed by it, two days ago he didn’t even remember them, and now all he wants is for to kiss them again, to feel his skin connect with theirs, even though he never had that urge with Patty, and to feel Richie grab his hands again like they always did when they were younger. To have bill kiss him on the cheek and then blush about it while giving Stan a cheeky but bright smile. He focuses back on the losers telling their story and zones back in when Eddie starts talking.

“And what about you guys?” He ask Bill and Richie

“Any special person in your life Richie?” Eddie smirks, the way he always did when he and Richie used to tease each other, the way he knows Eddie is taunting Richie and trying to start a play fight. Instead of this happening, and Richie taking the bait, Richie smiles a little shy.

He smiles in a way Stan has almost never seen Richie do, only when he was alone with Bill and himself, and the moment Richie looks up from the corner of his eyes to Bill, Stan knows what’s coming. The look is barely noticeable for anyone, but Stan has always been observant. He sees Bill give a quick nod of his head, and then turns away himself, he feels his heart break before he even hears the words.

If only he had been observant enough to see Bill and Richie looking over his way, with longing in their eyes.

“Actually”, Richie starts, “me and big Bill have been married for 5 years’.

The way he says it, so casually and full of love, causes Stan to grip his thighs so tightly it hurts, a habit he’s had since he was little. He wants to run out of the room, to cry, to scream or to break something, it doesn’t even matter, he just wants to get away from them. From the feeling of being split apart. Stan hates this, he hates feeling like his not in control of his own emotions. It was one of the many things he has always prided himself in, and the only thing Richie and Bill ever tried to ‘change’ in him. They had said they just wanted him to enjoy every little thing of a moment, without having to worry about how he might look, or which emotion would shine through.

 In a way, he’s happy for them. At least they found each other, where happy with one another, and Stan feels like he should be ecstatic for them, only he isn’t. Not in the way he should be at least. Still though, he focuses all of his attention on keeping his face in a straight line, making sure that none of the tell-tales he displays when he is jealous are showing.

‘We met about 7 years ago, well I guess that isn’t really accurate, we saw each other again 7 years ago, during a comedy evening Richie was in.’ Bill starts his explanation, looking at Richie with adoration in his eyes. Their hands were now linked on the table, and Stan wonders if their hand still feel the same.

‘I saw this awesome stud in the crowed and thought; hey, this guy I want to fuck.’

Bill hits Richie shoulder, without much menace behind it, the embarrassed smile on his face taking away any last doubt that he had meant the hit to be hurtful.

Eddie groans while the rest of the losers laugh, and Stan realizes he should be doing something else that just sitting with a straight face.

He forces an easy smile on his face, as he turns to look at Bill and Richie. Both of them were already looking at him. There’s something in their eyes, an emotion, but Stan doesn’t remember them well enough, hasn’t know them long enough, to decipher it.

He sees Bev look at him though, and the look in her eyes he recognizes, it’s not pity, but it’s something close too. Back when they were still kids, Bev was his go to person for relationship advice. He didn’t like to open up about his feeling to anyone, but Bev always made him feel like everything he felt was valid and she made him feel loved too.

He smiles wider back at her, and this time it’s genuine. He really loved Bev too, just like every other loser here.

“So Stan, how have you been doing?” Bill asks while taking a huge gulp of his beer that’s on the table. His voice has a hard edge, but Stan chooses to ignore it.

He thinks back to him putting his suitcase is his trunk, while Patty ran after him in haste. He thinks of her crying and grabbing his face, trying to get her to kiss him, but him turning his face away. He had wanted to be honest about everything to her, he really did love Patty, just not as much as he has ever loved Richie and Bill, but he was sure she wouldn’t, couldn’t understand him, so he had lied. He told her that he had fallen in love with someone else, that nothing happened, he hadn’t cheated on her, but he couldn’t keep up the facade and the lies anymore either.

She had begged some more, tried telling him that it was just a rough patch they were going through, and that they could get couples counselling, but Stan told her that he loved her too much to do that to her. Then he had start the car and left their life behind.

He had put his wedding ring in his pocket, and had laughed. In 27 years, Stanley Uris had never done anything he hadn’t extensively thought through, but now he just had.  

He thinks back to those moments, and the ring in his pocket that seemed to be dragging him down now, and wonders what his answer should be.

 He makes eye contact with Beverly, and it seems that in the 20 years they forgot about each other, Beverly can still read him like an open book.

She opens her mouth to say something, but before she can, Stan opens his.

‘I’ve been married for 10 years’. He doesn’t know why he said it. Especially since his marriage was over, by his own choice. Maybe he said it because Stan and Bill are still holding each other’s hands. Maybe it’s because he desperately doesn’t want t come across as desperate, how ironic that may sound. He doesn’t want them to think he wants to get in the way of their relationship. Bill and Richie are married now for god sake, and that changes everything. Stan is no longer a part of their relationship, and he want to make it clear to Bill and Richie that he know that.

‘Her names Patty, she’s Jewish as well, and she’s a kindergarten teacher’. Stan continuous. His eyes are drawn by the hand of Bill and Richie tightening together, but he won’t let it deter him.

‘Cool’, Richie says, but his voice sounds strained, like he’s pushing the words out of his throat instead of just talking.

Eddie sees his former best friend struggling and jumps in for him.

‘That’s really nice Stan, I’m glad your happy.’ He gives Stan a small nod, because even with as little as he remembers, he know his best friend, and their leader were head over heals for Stan, and just by seeing the way they’re looking at him, he knows that hasn’t changed.

Stan bitterly takes a bite from his spring roll, he hates how greasy it is, but he doesn’t want to talk anymore. He isn’t happy anymore now that he know of Bill and Richie.

He suddenly feels extremely tired, he want to go home, or his hotel room, at this point he doesn’t even care anymore. His life just turned completely upside down, and he’s just now realizing it. Why did he come here again?

He fork pauses on the way to his mouth, he suddenly remembers the painted lady, closing in on him, eerily getting closer and closing her gaping mount around his face.

‘Stan’, a panicked voice calls out again.

Stan startles into awareness, realizing that everyone was looking at him. His hand is shaking badly. His spring roll already dropped back on the plate. Bill, who sits closest to him reaches out to him, presumably to grab his hand and hold in his, but Stan quickly drops his hand down and Bill’s falters before returning to his side too. He looks sad.

‘Why did you bring us back here Mike’? He asks. Even he hears his voice is monotone, and to people who don’t know him it may sound like he doesn’t care. The reality is that he cares so much, feels so much fear, that he shuts every feeling, and everyone out.

Everyone’s gazes drift over to Mike’s who looks guilty. ‘We didn’t stop it, 27 years ago. The killings are happening again, and we made a vow’. While Mike is talking, a waitress puts fortune cookies on the table waling away with a smile on her face, if only she knew what they ware talking about.

‘Pennywise’, Beverly breaths out, panic lacing in her voice as she frantically looks around her.

Stan sees Eddie reach for his inhaler, trying to breath more easily. Stan idly wonders if he should too, considering it doesn’t feel like he’s getting any air.

Before Bill gets a chance to open his mount, on of the fortune cookies springs alive. A shrieking sound emits from it as it breaks open and a small, dying bird pops out of it. Instantly Stan spring back running toward the back of the room, trying to get as far away from whatever it is.

He sees the others do the same, Bill running in the same direction as Stan did.

‘Hey you guys, this fortune cookie is looking at me’. Richie’s voice sounds as panicked as Stan feels.

Another fortune cookies falls of the platter, and ends up right in front of Stan and Bill. Stan wants to reach for Bill’s hand, he’s so terrified that for a moment it wouldn’t even matter if Richie saw, he just needs Bill or Richie to help him. Before he can though the fortune cookie breaks open, revealing a tooth. Stan knows that sort of tooth. He stared right down at it when She was biting his face off. When he was looking in the deadlights.

He tumbles down to ground gasping. He can’t do this, he should have never come back to this town. He shrieks, just like did all those years ago, and stars to crawl backwards as much as he can no other sane thought in his head but; get away, get away.  

‘Stan, stan look at me’, he hears a shrill voice, laced with overflowing worry and terrifying fear. Hands force his face to make eye contact with someone. It’s bill, and he’s trying to block out Stan sight of the cookie, of everyone losing their minds and mike attacking the table with a chair.

‘Look at me Stan, breath, it’s not real okay, it’s not real’. Bill swipes his thumb over cheekbones, and for a second Stan can pretend that he could reach up and kiss Bill if he wanted to, that he could call out and Richie would come sprinting to see if everything was alright.

The noise dies down and Stan can’t see anything move anymore, so he assumes Pennywise decided to let them suffer for a few more days before killing them.

He faintly hears the waitress and Richie’s warm voice before Richie too is sitting next to Bill, and is grabbing his hand. Bill still hasn’t stopped the soothing movements.

‘You alright there Stan the man, you look kinda pale’. Richie jokingly says, but even Stan can hear the tremble in his voice.

It’s the nickname that makes Stan snap though. He pulls his head away from Bill’s hands and pushes Richie easy from him a little before standing up and brushing of his pants.

He glares, and stumbles for a moment, the anger shooting through his body like it’s unwoven with his blood.

Stan the man was the nickname Richie had always called him, but once Bill, Richie and Stan started dating, Richie, when using the nickname, always said Stan our man. Only now Stan isn’t a part of this relationship anymore.  

He can’t for the life of him figure out why he came back here. Was it so he could hurriedly see Bill and Richie? And then what? Get his heart broken? Maybe it was because he wanted to die? God dammit why couldn’t he just not have remembered. He would have stayed with Patty, and he would’ve been okay with that. Instead he might die here, he’s getting a divorce, and the boys he loved have moved on, together.

 He glanced at Bill and Richie, both of them looking shocked at Stan’s outbursts, as if they were expecting him to stay in his panic much longer.

He looked towards his other friends too. Ben, Eddie, Mike and Bev. He loved them so much too, he wanted to protect them, to make sure they were happy but god dammit he couldn’t do this. He wasn’t strong enough too.

‘Fuck this’, he spewed out before grabbing his coat and walking to the exit.

‘Stan wait, where are you going?’

He could hear the losers following him, trying to figure out his plan, but he didn’t care, it wasn’t too late to live his content live, so that what he was going to do.

‘Stan please, just tell us what you’re gonna do?’, Beverly’s voice cries out.

Stan turned in a flash nearly shouting now, he had never felt such an intense rage before.

‘Home, that’s where, I’m going home. I’ll going to go see my wife, do lay job and I’m going to live, I’m sorry if you want help trying to kill it but Clearly that’s not working out for us now is it.’

‘Stan please, just please we need to defeat IT, think of our promise’. Mike is begging, and Stan thinks he might be minutes away from actually getting down on his knees. Still Stan doesn’t relent.

‘I’m sorry Mike, but I’m not strong like you guys, I have to get out of here’. Stan turn around again to get to his car.

‘Stan’s right, I’m leaving too’. He hears Richie say, but it doesn’t make him turn around.

‘Me too’, Eddie replies.

‘Wait’. Another voice cries out. It’s Bill. Stan feels his hands falter, not looking back at Bill, but also not getting in his car.

‘Can we please just sleep on it for one night? If you guys still want to leave in the morning then we can go. Just we’re all tired and we need to get some rest. Then we can all decide how we’re approaching this.’

Stan wants to leave so bad, but then he mulls Bill’s words over in his head. It’s not even because he’s in love with Bill that makes him want to listen, it’s just that Bill is their leader, and Stan has always looked up to him in that way.

‘Stan’, Bill’s voice sounds soft, asking a question without really asking it. ‘Please’.

Stan sighs, but he still doesn’t turn around.

‘Fine you lead the way to the hotel, I’ll follow one of you’.

First thing in the morning, he’s out of this god forsaken town.

 He leaves in the morning, before any of the others are up yet. He knows he promised Bill that they would talk about this, but there’s nothing that’s keeping him here.

He barely slept, he kept overthinking every little thing that happened. When they got to the hotel he went straight to his room, and locked the door before any of the losers could say something else.

To make things worse, his room was just across Richie and bill’s, to prolong his suffering. He could hear someone stand in front of his door in the middle of the night, but he kept himself as quit as possible, and after about 5 minutes of the person hovering, they left.

When they were kids, whenever one of the them was scared, the losers would all sleep in the same room. They would watch a comedy and eat junk food, and Stan was sure that that’s what they were doing now, but he didn’t have it in himself to go and check.

At around 5:30 Stan walks out of the hotel entrance, with a leather bag in his hands, and heads for his car. He takes a look around the parking lot, because he can still feel the terrifying, numbing fear of seeing pennywise the day before, but he doesn’t see anything. He quickly gets in the car, and drives away before he can change his mind.

This is fine, he thinks too himself as he drives away. It’s fine, He’s going to go home to Patty, fix things, clean his house and keep up his routine. It’s fine because he has done his all throughout his adult life, it’s what’s expected from him. He’s going back to Atlanta, and he’s going to live the rest of his life in peace. It’s fine, but it really isn’t.

He wishes that even when he was a kid, he had never started dating Bill and Richie. If he never dated them, then maybe his feelings for them wouldn’t have burned so bright, every other love he has ever felt seems like coal in comparisons. He’s violently drawn out of his thoughts by an upcoming danger on the road. Before Stan has a chance to see what it is, he’s brain realizes he should swerve, so he does. He forcefully turns his steering wheel, and because of it, his car starts slipping. His foot crashing on the brake pedal, even though Stan logically knows that not what he should do.

His car comes to a stop, but not before flying of the road and into a three on the side, right before the sign that says Welcome to Derry.

Stan’s head hit the control panel harshly, and Stan gives himself two minutes to catch his breath while a small streams of blood drips over his forehead, before realizing he almost hit something, or someone. As soon as the thought formulates he jumps out of the car and runs back to the road, desperate to see if he managed to avoid the person or thing. When he gets to the road he sees a body laying there, and the figure, is not moving.

Stan’s breath hitch and he nearly passes out for a second, but then he sprints forward and drops to his knees. For once, he’s not worried about the dirt on his knees. He reaches out to person, and promptly feels his heart fall to his stomach. It’s Bill.

‘Bill, what wait, Bill what the hell were you doing here’. His voice sounds frantic, and he’s pulling Bill up by his shoulders, placing him in his lap and starts shaking him.

‘Bill please, wake up, come on open your eyes for me. Somebody help me.’ He screams out, but there’s nobody on the road, and the adults in Derry have been known to avoid people when the most need it.

‘Stan.’ A confused voice calls out to him. Stan turns around and meets the eyes of Richie. He looks mostly confused as to why Stan’s screaming, until his sees the body that Stan is now cradling in his arms.

His eyes grow wide, and the next time he speaks, his voice sounds distraught.

‘Bill, oh my god Bill.’ He lunches forward and takes Bill body unto his own arms, roughly pushing Stan away.

‘Bill come on baby don’t leave me. I love you.’ Stan only then realizes that Bill has yet to take any breath, nor does move even the slightest.

‘Richie, I’m…’ Stan’s voice cracks, and he isn’t sure how he’s supposed to continue.

The tears start streaming down his face, and sobs are threatening to escape. He couldn’t have killed Bill, he  loved him, God he LOVED Bill, just like he loved Richie.

Suddenly Richie’s head shoots up, his glare set on Stan.

‘You did this, you killed him.’

Stan doesn’t know how to respond. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t see him coming.’ Stan is trying desperately to explain, but it does little to soften Richie’s glare.

‘Why did you kill me, Stan.’ Startled Stan looks down at Bill, and sees that Bill’s eyes are now opened, and Bill was the one that had spoken.

He feels hysteria building up in his chest. ‘Bill, I, what?”

‘Yeah, Stan why? Was it because we decided to go on without you? Because we realized you were too weak for us?’ Richie spits out. He’s no longer crying or looking distressed, instead he has a mean smirk on his face.

‘you should’ve just killed yourself Stan, like you were planning on doing in the first place’.

Stan jumps back, he had no idea what’s going on, but he knows that neither Bill nor Richie would ever say that to him. Both of them were too kind to do any of that stuff. Which means that this could only mean one thing.

Stan scrambles back up and steps back, continuing to look at fake Bill and Richie. He takes several steps back, but they don’t do anything except for smirking at him.

‘Come on, Stanley’, Pennywise’s contorted voice comes out, the bodies of Richie and Bill forming into one figure. ‘You know it to be true, Bill nor Richie love you anymore, and since you left so soon, why couldn’t you have just killed yourself?’

Stan shakes his head, yet he knows it’s useless, he already thinks to things, otherwise Pennywise wouldn’t have brought them up. In the blink of an eye the clown is suddenly right in front of him, and Stan lets out a yelp before jumping backwards, but pennywise clearly anticipated this, as he just grabs Stan by the neck and lifts him up. IT grins, more terrifying that Stan remembers from his childhood, before opening his mouth, and Stan knows exactly what’s coming. He struggles as hard as he can, but even he knows it’s in vain. In no time, Stan is looking down the throat of Pennywise, staring straight into the deadlights.

A voice in the back of his mind that sounds vaguely like Bill and Richie combined yelling to fight back, to stand up for himself, only Stan is already to tired, so he just let’s himself float. He floats, right back towards the nightmare he just lived through, over and over again.

 ‘Come on, Stanley’, Pennywise’s contorted voice comes out, the bodies of Richie and Bill forming into one figure. ‘You know it to be true, Bill nor Richie love you anymore, and since you left so soon, why couldn’t you have just killed yourself?’

The same goddamn words come out of pennywise mouth again. Stan isn’t sure how much longer he can do this, stuck in this constant loop of terror. He thought that he would finally die from heartbreak at some point, but he didn’t. He always saw the same thing, the only difference was that sometimes he hit Bill, and other times he hit Richie.

He wasn’t sure how long he was stuck in this bizarre place, but he does know that after an immense long time, he’s starting to get feeling back in his legs. It’s weird but the entire time he was on the deadlights, he felt like he was soaked in ice cold water, but now it feels like his legs are submerged in an amazing, hot temperature water. The feeling spreads through his chest, up his neck and ends up warming his face.

‘Stan, Stanley come on. Fight it, Stan. You got to fight him.’ He hears someone call out to him, but he can’t place the voice. He interprets the words though, and even though he is really confused and doesn’t really know what’s happening, he does what the voice tells him.

‘that’s it Stan, you can do this. You’re stronger than you think.’ It’s another voice, one Stan can’t place directly either, but he basks in the warmth of the voice, and the safety he feels that comes with it.

He hears more voices calling out to him, calling out his name. He tries so hard, and he thinks about giving up until he in a split second, it feels like the weight that was pushing him down had been lifted. finally Stan is able to open his eyes, and take in his surroundings.

He is laying with his head on someone’s lap, and when he looks up, he sees Richie’s terrified eyes looking down on him. Instantly, he recalls those eyes staring back with fury, because he killed Bill. Stan jumps up, frantic to get away from those eyes. He crawls back until his back hit’s another person’s body and sags down unto it, once the familiar smell of anti-septic whips hit his nostrils, undeniably save and Eddie. Eddie wraps his arm around Stan, and Stan would bet money on it that Eddie is recalling the first time this happened, back when Stan had been alone too.

‘I’m sorry.’ Stan sobs out. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hurt Bill I swear. I love him and I love you and I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry’. He’s looking at Richie the entire time, straight in his eyes, and he can see the shift from terrified, to confused, to empathetic.

‘Stan.’ Another person’s voice calls out. Stan nearly causes whiplash because he turns his head so fast. Bill is hovering around him, turning his palms up towards him, in a gesture that says I’m unarmed. ‘Stan it’s a-a-alright. Whatever the clown showed you it wasn’t real.’

Bill says it was so much confidence, and Stan feeds off it. He needs reassurance right now, he needs to believe everything is gonna be alright. Richie had a timid smile on his face, and his eyes, just like Bill’s, scream love for him.

‘It is though.’ Stan replies voice so utterly small and destroyed. Eddie starts to shake his head, Stan can feel it, but Stan rips away from Eddie before he can say anything. He needs to say this to Richie and Bill before he never get’s a chance too.

‘You’re together and that’s great, I’m happy for you. But I can’t breath when I see you, because ever since Mike called all I can think about kissing the both of you, and touching you any ways I can. And I know I can’t have that which is why it breaks my heart every time I see you guys together.’ Stan is sputtering around his words, but he doesn’t stop the take a break, he needs to say this, he needs to get it off his chest.

‘That isn’t fair Stan, you’re married’. Richie responds. He and Bill have gotten closer, while Eddie ran to help their other friends, who had called out for a them a few other times. It seemed like the three of them were in a small bubble, unaware of what was happening outside of it.

Bill opens his mouth to interject, but Stan beats him too it. ‘I left her.’

Bill’s mouth shut with an audible click. Both him and Richie looking bewildered. ‘I remembered you guys as soon as I got Mike’s call, and I couldn’t lie to her about my feelings. Once I remembered you, I knew I could never love a person again as much as I loved you guys. We’re not officially divorced yet, I didn’t have time for that but, I will soon.’

‘Stan’, Bill says hopeful, and it makes Stan look up to him. ‘Me and Rich, we, god we were going to get a divorce too.’ Stan blinks once, twice before looking up at Richie who picks up where Bill left off.

‘We were happy, but it was always like it wasn’t enough you know? Like we couldn’t fill a void that was there no matter how hard we tried. We figured that it was because we didn’t love each other enough. We realized, after Mike called, that it was you that we were missing. That it was because you weren’t there, that we didn’t feel whole either.’

Stan feels something blossom in his chest, a feeling of hope. ‘You guys aren’t just saying this right? Because you need to be honest with me if you guys were fine on your own, so I can.’

Before Stan can say something Bill reaches forward, and kisses Stan on the lips. Stan freezes for a second, before shooting in action and clinging to Bill’s shirt while kissing back feverishly. He wonders again how he could ever have thought he was content with Patty, when he missed this every day. He breaks away with Bill to catch his breath, but then he sees Richie staring at them with a blush on his cheeks, and he can’t help himself. This time it’s him that reaches forward and just like that, he’s kissing Richie too.

It’s been a while so the kiss itself is awkward. Richie’s glasses are digging in his face, and he grabs Richie’s hair a little too tight, but the emotions is still wonderful. Both kisses where full of love.

When they pull away Richie kisses Bill on the lips too, and Stan can’t help but feel his heart overflow with love for both his boys.

‘We wanted to talk to you too, straight away after we remembered. Only, we didn’t think it the right time was in front of the entire group, and then you told us about your wife.’ Richie’s face screwed up as he said the word wife, ‘so we thought you didn’t want to be with us anymore, fuck we’r a bung of idiots right?’

‘Hey, this is nice and all, but can you please come and help us?’ Eddie’s yells breaks down their bubble, and after looking at each other one more time, the three boys stand up and join their friends into defeating this monster that has haunt them for their entire life.

When Stan’s hand reaches out to crush the clowns heart, along side his friends, he knows that he in that moment, he’s just as strong as all of them.

 ‘Richie for god sake, will you stop that please.’ From the corner of his eyes, Stan can see Bill struggling to hold in his laugh. Stan, though he would never admit it, tries his very hardest not to laugh either.

Richie was chasing Eddie holding a cup of water that was supposed to be used to water the plants, but instead is now used as an annoy Eddie device.

‘I’m not giving up Kaspbrak.’ Richie yells while speeding up a notch, while Eddie starts laughing even harder. It wasn’t hard to see why they were so close.

Stan shook his head and joined Bev, Mike and Ben around the table, and he could see Bill moving over as well. In the middle of the table in front of them stood a giant cake. The letters read; congratulation on getting a divorce. It had been Ben’s job to order the cake, and Stan could only imagine the embarrassment he must have felt when asking for it. Stan softly shook his head, he still thought this was an insane idea. Bill and Richie had decided to get a divorce, because this relationship was no longer one of just two people, and three people couldn’t legally get married. Stan hadn’t wanted them to do it, he said he was fine with just not being their husband on paper, it didn’t have to mean anything.

Richie and Bill insisted though, Stan was just as much a part of this relationship as they were. Richie dropped down on the chair next to him, still giggling slightly to himself, and grabbed Stan’s hand. A scowl appeared on his face when Richie did so, because Richie’s palm was wet and it felt absolutely disgusting. Still, when Stan tried to pull his hand away, Richie just held tighter. Bill was smiling at the both of them, so Stan put his hand on Bill’s thigh, watching his cheek darken as he did so. After defeating pennywise just 4 months ago, Bill, Richie and Stan had decided to move in with each other straight away. For obvious spacing reasons, they decided to go live in the house Bill and Richie had already occupied before remembering, but they did change the whole interior and let Stan decide what color everything should be. Neither Bill nor Richie really cared.

As Stan looked around his perfect house, with his perfect boyfriends, and the perfect friends, he could not be more glad that he had returned to Derry.

[spitfirs]

┆ ——  did you hear about how RICHIE TOZIER moved to sinking rock ?  HE is 20 and i get the feeling that you could best describe him with the ache in your eyes after keeping them open too long, the click of buttons in an  arcade, the bitter taste of sarcasm, the smooth roll of curses slipping through your lips, the feeling of laughter bubbling up in the back of your throat, an endless stream of pop culture references, the careless ease of riding a bike down an empty street, the rush of performing for your friends, the satisfaction of making them laugh....  the last thing he remembers was MAKING A BLOOD OATH WITH THE LOSER'S CLUB.  

THEN ---

richie tozier is a trashmouth. that’s a universal constant. 

he was born in derry, maine in 1976. he was an only child.

his mother always wanted a girl but his father accepted his son with open arms and even encouraged his impressions and comedy

growing up, richie was bullied because of his glasses. 

he had a few friends who also weren’t very popular. the group grew to be called the loser’s club. 

when he’s 12, the losers first encounter IT: a child-eating clown creature in that lives in the sewers

they fight It and eventually send it back into the sewers, weakened. 

richie’s first memory of this life, his past life, is after the battle, when the loser’s club makes a blood oath to come back and defeat It when It comes back to haunt derry once more. 

NOW ---

all of his memories from before that summer was over have come back to him in pieces. he remembers his parents, the clown, the club, the bullies, his friends, the violence, the horror. but they’ve all come as dreams, which makes him less than inclined to believe them. he’s still not sure how real they could be. he just knows he recognizes some of the faces from those dreams....

still, not much has changed with richie, other than the shift in which time period he lives in.

he is still a loudmouth who thinks he’s funny and, sometimes, he actually is funny. 

depending on how you feel about people who don’t shut up, can’t sit still, and try to make a joke out of everything, richie is either the best or worst person. you choose, i guess.

has adhd but isn’t medicated for it.

wears contacts now! the big bottle cap glasses rarely see the light of day anymore, rip.

he is gay. it’s kind of a secret though, shh. 

interests include: rock music, awful patterned clothes, doing often unsuccessful impressions, video games, & scary movies, among other things.

the song that best describes him is TYPICAL STORY by HOBO JOHNSON 

i don't think i know much but i know i couldn't take a good punch. so if you feel like i've been talking enough, just tell me to shut up and i will gladly shut the fuck up!

... and last i knew, he was working as a COMMENTARY YOUTUBER. 

richie’s always been good at impressions and at making people laugh pissing people off. so, after high school, after dropping out of college, he combines both his talents to critique videos on the internet. he’s somewhat successful. he doesn’t let it go to his head though, it was already big enough to begin with.

i wonder how he’s going to cope with the oncoming disasters considering he tends to CRACK CRUDE JOKES. 

he earned the nickname trashmouth for a reason --- he can barely speak without throwing a curse or a crude joke into every sentence, even when it’s a stressful situation. and he is, despite everything, a coward. whoops.

plots ideas!

childhood... crushes? exes? --- i imagine richie trying to date girls at one point in his childhood. imagine... little kid dates! going to dances together! hanging out at the park! stuff like that. but it never ended well because... richie was well on his way to realize that he didn’t like girls, full stop. 

crushes/exes... but this time men --- when he hit his late teens, he started accepting that yeah, he liked men. so he started dating some... in secret. he’s not very open about his private life in general but even less so about this.

siblings? --- it would be cool for him to have siblings @ sinking rock. he’d be a nightmare of a brother, though, so, y’know. apply at own risk.

an enemy? --- like i said, he’s either the best or the worst and for this person? richie is the worst. can’t even stand to look at him. maybe connected to the next connection, which is....

people who know him from his youtube --- he’s semi famous, maybe about 800k subs? enough to be recognizable to certain circles. it’d be neat if people were either fans or hated his videos. maybe he reacted to your character’s video & it was either a good-natured roast or it was mean-spirited. this one’s rly open!

anything else & everything else! childhood neighbors, high school friends, college roommates from that brief time he was in college before he dropped out!! just connect w this trashmouth & i will love you!!!

[pollylynn]

“With follows and fans, all this attention, I felt like I was losing her. Like there was no room left for the two of us. ” —Carlos Villegas, Meme is Murder (7 x 05)

Title: Black Ops Rating: T WC: 1300

He’s feeling epically sorry for himself. She’s feeling restless, reckless, rebellious. She has a plan, so him feeling sorry for himself kind of works out for the moment. It keeps him occupied while she lays the groundwork.

“It was supposed to be cool,” he calls out sullenly from the bed. He’s slouched there with what might be every pillow in Manhattan arrayed around him and the laptop balanced on his flannel-clad thighs. “This is so not cool.”

“All publicity . . .” Her voice comes, muffled, from the depths of the walk-in closet. She hops from foot to foot, out of her jeans, into the close-fitting pants. She takes care in her teasing. The wallowing is a good distraction for the moment, so she takes care, keeping her tone light as she struggles to pop her head out of the mouth of the black turtleneck, out of the closet door. “I’d swear there’s someone I know who’s always going on about all publicity being . . . what was it now?”

“There’s an asterisk,” he grumbles.“All publicity is  good publicity is good publicity unless there’s auto-tune and a cutout of your head as a bouncing sing-a-long ball.”

“They think your tiny, bouncing-ball head is adorable.” She emerges from the closet in head-to-toe black with a bundle of clothes in tow—his clothes, carefully chosen. He doesn’t notice. He can barely be bothered to pout at her sideways as she roughs a hand over his hair en route from the closet to the bathroom.

“You’re just saying that.” He turns a scowl so black on the screen, she half expects the laptop to burst into flames.

“I wish I were just saying that.” She rolls her eyes as she imagines the back-and-forth in every comments section known to man. “You have no idea how much I wish I were just saying that, Castle.”

She steps out of sight and into the en suite. She loses the sense of his words as she snatches up the wide paddle brush from the counter and sets to work brushing her hair straight back, none too gently. She can still hear the indignant rise and fall of his voice, the ups and downs of pitch that let her make the right noises in the right places, but she loses the sense of it.

She works at her hair until it’s scraped back into a short tail held tight in her fist. It’s a severe look that doesn’t apologize for the sharpness of her cheekbones or the angular bridge of her nose. It’s striking and different. That’s how she feels. It’s how she wants to feel tonight.

She pushes her long, dark sleeves up to the elbow and reaches to turn on the taps. She bends at the waist, water pooled and waiting in her cupped hands. She’s a millisecond from splashing her face, scrubbing it clean of this skin-crawling day, but she changes gears. She turns off the water with two deft flicks of the wrist and grabs her make-up bag instead. She works with heavy pencil and strategic swipes. She follows some guiding instinct until she pushes off the counter with flat palms, until she stands straight, dead center in the mirror and sees a stranger.

The transformation is startling, not just the hair, the face, the clothes, but the posture, the wholly unfamiliar way her head sits poised over her shoulders, and the alien thrust of one hip in front of the rest of her body. She narrows her eyes in satisfaction. She grabs up the bundle of clothes and heads back into the bedroom, where the wallowing is still in progress.

“Get dressed.” She tosses the bundle of clothes on to the bed.

“Dressed? Why?” The midstream interruption makes him blink, but no more than that. She doesn’t have his full attention yet.  

“Because I said so.” She tugs the power cord from his laptop.

“You know that’s not how laptops work.” He looks up at her, grumpily bemused until he sees her—really sees her—then he swallows hard. “Right?”

“You know I can use it for target practice if you don’t get dressed.” She leans over him. She snaps the lid shut for emphasis. “Right?”

Now she has his full attention.

“Dressed,” he mutters. He ditches the laptop quickly—quickly—somewhere in the depths of the Manhattan Pillow Mountain Range. “You’re dressed.”

His fingers close around her wrist and he pulls sharply. She falls. She lets herself fall, rolling as soon as she hits the mattress so she winds up on the far side of his body with the neat bundle of clothes between them.

“I am. You need to be.” She thrusts the clothes toward him. She arches her back and stretches out to her full length. “We’re going out.”

“Out.” He frowns. His eyes skitter in the direction of the now-hidden laptop, then back to her. “Out is . . .  people are mean Out.”

“They’re mean,” she says, surprised to find herself agreeing. “They’ve been mean to both of us.”  

“I’m sorry.” He bats the clothes away to find her hand. “You didn’t ask for this.”

He shakes his head down at the expanse of mattress between them. It’s an abrupt shift into sorrow—real sorrow—and she knows something about the way he’s been throwing himself into the spotlight lately that she didn’t know a minute ago.

She knows it’s mostly about him, because that’s who he is, what he likes, what he needs to be much of the time, but it’s a little bit about her, too. The way he’s careful to never refer to her by name on camera, in ink, and the way he’s sharp-eyed and wary whenever they’re out and about without benefit of uniforms and crime scene tape. It’s a little bit about the time she spent in the spotlight, the time she had to spend there while he was gone. The time she does not want to spend there now.

She knows that this—the head-to-toe black and a face in the mirror that’s almost a stranger’s—is mostly about her, but a little about him. It’s about the breathing room that only a seething city street can afford either of them—both of them.

“You didn’t either,” she says. She shakes herself. “Not most of it. So get dressed.”

He shakes himself, too. He chases her clumsily around the room, shucking pajama pants and hopping into the pair of black jeans she’s picked out. He grumbles his way through pulling on the dark sweater, then finally catches her around the waist in the full-length mirror.

“We look like secret agents.” He frames her body from behind, broad-shouldered where she is tall and lithe. “What’s our mission?”

“Us,” she says, taking him by the hand. “We’re the mission.”

She pulls him through the loft and out the front door. She leads their clattering way down the back steps and out into the alley, where there’s no one looking for them. There’s no van or shitty clown car full for freelancers with long lenses. There’s no clump of foot traffic that slows  as everyone’s eye is drawn up to the building they vaguely recognize from a hundred different newscasts on fifty different days when there was nothing new—absolutely nothing.

The city takes them in its arms.

She tugs him and he tugs her down crowded streets. She tugs him and he tugs her into the back row of a dark movie theater showing God knows what. They laugh in the wrong places and feed each other popcorn. They make out like desperate teenagers with nowhere else to be for a little bit of goddamn privacy.

The mission is them.

images via homeofthenutty

[inexchangeforyoursoul]

@nagasleeps​ ... you unknowingly made me sweat blood upon getting the prompts lmfao 😅 (fake dating?? spo rT S??? so many things, none of which I’m into asgdsfafsd,,,) 

Getting over the initial turmoil and the need to hire a deep web hitman to assassinate me, however, I thought about it… and yes, I’ve always liked the aesthetics™ of figure skating and racing, so it wasn’t ~that~ hopeless of a case,,, All in all, I ended up revamping a scene from a half-done fic to feature the LoV (instead of the Todofam bc latter are the og cast in the other thing so they were out of bounds but sssh)

I was vibrating when you reacted to the Happy Feet joke, so I really really hope you’ll enjoy the rest just as much!! ✨ MERRY LATE CRAMPUS AND A HAPPY NEW YEEEEAH

OH right: have an ao3 link that will likely read better lmao

“Can I?”

The question itself takes everyone for a loop, but the real catch that makes heads turn is the barely contained excitement in Hawks’ voice. Then there’s his face, too, which is that of a kid on their first festival.

It quickly turns into an embarrassed blush that he tries to hide behind the collar of his jacket, but the damage has already been done- not only did he speak up like that, but it happened just a split second after everyone has unanimously started to move on.

“Can you?” grunts Dabi into the awkward silence with a raised brow, nodding towards the ice rink. He was a few steps ahead of them already, targeting what seemed to be the nearest punch stall available.

Hawks tagged along for the Christmas fair visit in Deika because he figured he might multitask and try this buddy thing with Jin and also catch a few snippets of info, but watching the kids slipping around on the ice when they stopped by the rink… did things to him. Nostalgic, dangerous things.

“You skate, Hawks?” Himiko asks with a glint in her eye. She also doesn't hesitate to turn back and bounce towards the rink, obviously interested in… either him, the fact, or the place itself. He's yet to get a grasp on the girl.

“ … ” His brows pull up as he sulks on behind the makeshift barrier. “... I could. A little.”

She hops against the railing, balancing over the dangerously unstable structure. “Oooh, that's neat! What are we waiting for then?”

Wait, we?

Hawks is almost surprised enough to say it out loud, which… nice save. That sounds all kinds of counterproductive.

Doesn't help with the emotion reflecting on his face, though.

“What’s that face for?” she asks with a pout, looking almost offended before hopping back down. “I’m not going to pass up some fun, if you’re going, I’m going, too.”

“Ah---”

“Me, too!! Me, too!!!” pops Twice’s head up from nowhere between them.

“--- I see.”

“Well then,” Himiko says, her grump already forgotten as she's planting a hearty pat on Jin's head. “Can you skate, Jin?”

His brows, if they exist, inch closer as he squints, as if thinking… but he also immediately says a plain “Hell no.”

“Want me to teach you, then?”

That one rouses a confident “HELL YEAH!!” on the other hand, and he pulls on the drawstrings of his hoodie with such force that he not only disappears up to the nosetip, but an audible ripping sound also conveys the hoodie’s dislike of the abuse.

“Buckle up, then!" Himiko states with her hands on her hips. "First we’ll need some shoes, though. Also, you should get up from the ground, can’t skate like that.”

The man jumps straight into a salute upon hearing that. Considering that his coat is hanging off his head like a tent, it's quite a sight. “Aye aye, Toga sensei!!”

Hawks can’t help but let the uncertain hum break free; he is not sure he’s ready to make a clown out of himself… or that he could still stand upright at all, as a baby bird he was quite a midget. And a lot closer to the ground in case he hit it, making it less, well, scary.

“Mister, you coming too, right?” asks Himiko turning back to the two leftovers of the group.

“Oh…? Oh, sure! Ha ha…” he starts, the nervousness hardly hidden in his voice.

A stone falls from Hawks’ heart; there’s another clown in the making…

The old man (?) is so full of it, though. Just look at him. The only thing holding him back from stuttering is state of the art bullshitting skills…

“--- it is a highly refined form of showmanship, of course I---” 

“You’re so full of shit, old man.”

… IT WASN’T HIM. IT WASN’T HIM WHO SAID THAT, RIGHT?!

Said old man’s monologue stops with a soft ‘ah’ of mixed shock and horror… followed by both hands pressed tight over his wounded pride and heart. Not even the mask can hide the damage done.

“Dabiii, you can’t just steal the big man’s thunder like that…” speaks up Jin as he peels a hole for himself on the hood to look out of.

Oh, thank GOD.

The offender isn’t shaken by the callout in the least.

“He should just admit he can’t skate,” Dabi shrugs, turning back to wherever he was headed before the minute disturbance began. “Anyway… I’m off to drown myself in mulled wine or whatever they have for sale. Smell y’all later.”

Yeesh… that’s cold.

… actually, getting Dabi alone out of the picture has made this issue of being seen stumbling around half as intimidating. Which Hawks isn’t gonna complain about.

A few minutes later he’s already received his pair of skates and is mentally preparing for the task at hand. And also trying to calm down, because honestly? He’s excited. 

First things first, though, for a change his wings are more of a liability while doing this, so he gets rid of most of the feathers. Only after piling them up in the corner of the coat (more along the lines of 'bag') check room does he try the skates from a few angles on the plastic covered ground. They may be rented, but in comparison to the pair of battered ones he found by a trash container as a kid, few sizes too big then and now just as small, anything shone as long as they fit the task.

With a deep breath, he decides to give this a try and steps into the rink. One leg, then the other… a slow start at low speed, but he’ll have to remember how to stop as well… Yeah, this will do. 

Having gained some confidence on the field, he also manages to get out of the way of Toga and Twice as they burst onto the ice with reckless abandon, the latter obviously having no experience in the rink as he finishes the action mopping up every person and shaved particle in his wake.

Hawks skates up to him with a raised brow as Himiko giggles on and makes her rounds around the sprawling man. "You okay there, mate?"

His face that peeks out of the fluffy hoodie still pulled closely around his head looks either really focused… or 100% out of it. Maybe embarrassed, or having a religious experience. Hawks can't tell. In the end, he summarizes his status as follows:

"... yes."

“I told you, didn't I?” chips in Himiko, too, now that she’s over her giggling fit. “Can’t skate while on the ground. Though, if someone can do it… it’s probably you.”

"I'd say he's still got better chances with the usual method," Hawks muses out loud before offering a hand. (Not the best idea. Jot that down, Hawks: Bubaigawara Jin not only is nimble, but also heavy. Easily two-times-your-weight heavy if wings are not included. Do not engage in close combat.)

Nearly ending up on the ice aside, he notes that the number of people in the rink has dwindled down quite a bit in the past minute. Whether the masses are intimidated, afraid, or just conscious of the dumbassery of the big guns, Hawks doesn’t know.

Nor care about, really- more space for him to fuck around. Speaking of which…

He leaves the two jokers behind as Toga starts to legitimately tell Twice how to stand on the ice, and picks up just enough speed to test whether he can do another thing he usually can’t because of his wings.

The first attempt doesn’t go all that well, as he nearly slips when the skate he’s balancing on hiccups upon a deeper trail cut by others; on the second, he manages to stand on one leg, which is half of the battle, alright. He takes a second of a breather to stretch his legs before taking the route back towards the entrance again, checking in on how Twice is faring while he’s at it; seems to be going well for him. A little shaky, but he doesn’t fall ass backwards anymore.

He takes a deep sigh to collect some second hand inspiration, then shoots off to where Mister Compress’ hat has entered the field.

Hawks lifts a leg again, but this time, he also reaches behind his back to get a hold of the blade that should be riiight about… there!

Just sliding in a straight line and not stretched enough for this shit so it hurts like hell? Yes.

It would hurt even if he had stretched, to be frank.

But!! One day, he’s gonna do a legit Biellmann spin, you just watch.

“Why, Starling…!” Mister calls out with an air of awe, the doom and gloom finally lifting from his stance as the blonde is shaking his leg loose. He does stay suspiciously close to the entrance all along, though. “This comes to you as easy as flying does!”

“Could be worse,” he yells back as the momentum from the bend takes him the opposite direction.

Frankly, some may see it as cheating… but his feathers are an amazing addition he's gonna use to the fullest when on ice. So what if he has sonars to know how and where he’ll touch ground, or where to look for his feet from behind? Anyone with functional legs can do this without the help, they just need a little more practice. And why wouldn’t they? This is as close as anyone else can get to flying themselves, and boy is it a lot of fun!!

In fact, he’s so psyched that he does a pretty decent, simple Axel, nailing the landing after. Nice~

Hawks doesn’t bother opening his eyes for the next few minutes, just enjoying the chilly wind pinching his face and ears even pinker. Only then does he look up when someone with a whiff of some peach flavored alcoholic drink is about to cross his way… and goes as far as holding him by the waist, even if it’s for the fleeting moment he needs to grab his arm and spin them around in a circle.

“Not bad for a chicken.”

What the fuck, it’s Dabi.

The suspiciously happy man smirks over the baffled expression that appears on the hero's face. “You should check whether there’s a Happy Feet on Ice project, you could even make it.” Having said that, he gives Hawks a spin and joins him for the next round across the rink.

Wait a goddamn sec…

The blonde looks around with mild suspicion; he’s just noticed that Dabi is keeping up with him fine, which means… he can skate? “I thought you didn’t do, like, sports?”

He is pretty adamant on whining and moaning whenever the need to do anything but stand around menacingly arises… which is understandable, since, um… isn’t this a little… painful with a Frankensteined body like that?

Actually, it definitely is painful, because there’s one--- scratch that, now it’s two red stains on the white shirt poking out from under that ridiculous coat, and--- and blood dripping from one of his elbows, what the sincere fuck. Can he not feel that?!

“Spiked enough to do some stupid shit,” comes the enlightening sigh of an answer as they take the curve at rather high speeds, the faint smell of something not punch like also apparent on his breath. Makes the fact of him coming up close again less alarming, at the very least; a drunk (if not high as a kite…) Dabi averages out as more annoying, and less of a threat. And double the creepy, but that’s beside the point.

“You ready, birdie?”

… okay, maybe there is some room left for worry.

“Ready fo… huh?” The villain has his hands firmly around Hawks' waist now, as if preparing to--- no, there’s no way, he’s such a stick man, but still, the mere possibility…

“Fly!!!”

“WhaaAA---?!” By the time he realizes that Dabi really has that exact thing on his clearly not quite lucid mind when picking up some more speed on the straight line ahead of them, he’s already airborne. Hell if he’s counting how many turns he is doing, but damn it all, he has bigger problems at hand- first, he's actually getting dizzy, and he’s never dizzy with the exception of concussions and being sick, which is concerning, but maybe it’s due to fear. Second, he needs to recalculate his fall right fucking now, because this cackling asshat has managed to throw him quite high and he's also off-balance. He has trouble landing on solid ground when plucked near clean like this as-is, fuck, he's falling already, fuck fuck fuck fUCK---

It costs him a nearly sprained ankle, some panicked arm and wing flapping and an instant heart attack, but he manages to stick the landing somehow. He’s shaking like jello as Mister claps on and Jin and Himiko cry an awed WOOO HOOO, though. In fact, his legs that he’s using as something to lean on now are about to finally give in under him.

Hawks also just about gives into the temptation of collapsing on the spot as his momentum dies off at last… if not for some fucker capitalizing on the situation and dipping him for good measure.

Dabi also adds a hearty chuckle while doing so, certainly pleased at the mess the other is right now. “And here I thought you couldn’t be shaken.” 

“I saw… my life flashing before my eyes, asshole,” he breathes between wheezes, contemplating whether he should grab onto the guy, because just hanging around doesn’t make for a stable setup and he’d rather not risk one of the concussions he's been thinking of.

A cock of the head aside, all he gets is an eyeroll. “Sure seem happy about it, don't you.”

Well, now that the villain points it out… Hawks certainly is grinning like an idiot, and has been for a while. For whatever reason, he also starts giggling uncontrollably at that.

“Shut up, will you,” he snickers while trying to find something to hang an arm onto.

It’s little use in the end, because Himiko decides to slide right into Dabi’s leg, both ruining a chance for a comeback and collapsing the unbalanced circus act.

He keeps giggling through Dabi’s moans of discontent and more, though. These few minutes were the most fun he’s had in a decade, if not more.

He's coming over tomorrow, too.