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skullaton · 2 years ago

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Chapter 3: Try Again

Rating: M

Summary:

The city is full of people. Then why did it feel so lonely? Memories of clinking bottles and dazzling neon lights flickered through your mind. Misty, car filled streets with humans, but no humanity. A bridge and a phonebooth. And a sweet voice that wanted you to come home. You’ve wandered too far, and you don’t know how to get back. But don’t worry! You’ve made some friends from a colourful town that can help you!

TW: Childhood trauma, scopophobia, alcohol references

AO3 link: here Wally logo by Clown

“And if you put some white here, you’ll accent the highlights! Look at this happy little apple on a sunny day.” The yellow puppet showed the canvas to the audience. A ripple of static coursed down the screen as you sat on your living room floor, watching your beloved tape.

With a broken crayon, you attempted to copy the meticulous painting. The wax stained your fingernails as you pushed into the paper. Once satisfied, you raised it high to praise your marvelous work of art.

“How’s the apple going along, little artist?”

You regarded the CRT TV with pride. Wordlessly, you flipped the paper to show the screen.

“Wonderful! The colour is all in the lines, too!” the puppet man beamed.

You knew that it was all scripted. All baby shows were scripted - like Barney and Sesame Street. You were just lucky you found a special tape that updates with new episodes! You don’t know why you humoured yourself to show the television, though.

Maybe because nobody really cares.

A fake puppet showering you with love is better than having nothing at all.

You gave a smug smirk before placing the paper on the coffee table.

“Let's wrap up the art session for now. Next time, we’ll paint a happy forest. Doesn’t that sound-”

click.

The front door became unlocked. Heavy footsteps creak the floorboards, a rumbling cough echoing through the dark house.

The puppet’s voice was drowned out as ice flooded your veins. You contemplated whether you had enough time to turn off the TV, or to pretend to be sleeping on the couch.

You decided the former.

You shambled on your knees and extended a hand to reach for the TV knob. Your waxy fingertips just barely reached the dial.

“What the fuck are you doing up so late?”

You sat immobilised, fear pitting like iron in your stomach. You held your breath, too afraid to look at the intruder.

“Answer me!”

You felt a sharp tug on the collar of your shirt. You were violently forced to gaze up at the adult, their hands gripping tightly on your tiny arms. The grip was enough to cause a burning bruise on your flesh.

The husk of your mom stared at you, cigarette hanging from her lips, breath caked with the smell of old beer and ash.

A plume of smoke barreled out of her nose as she stared you down. You couldn’t find your words. Your lips trembled as you forced back tears.

If you cried now, it’ll only be worse.

“Where the fuck is your sister?”

You tried to form words, but all that came out was a stuttering mess.

Your mom mocked your futile attempt at speaking and scoffed. She released you from her death grip, flicking a few beads of ash off of her cigarette.

Cinder bit at your exposed arms, making you wince. But you dared not to move. Your eyes glued to the shag carpet.

Your mom shambled through the house, calling out your sister’s name.

Her last stop was the kitchen. Without being able to locate your sister, she released a visceral groan. You can hear the sound of a can being popped open.

“You know,” she stood in the doorway, the wall mounted landline now hanging off of her shoulder, “this is all your fault. If you weren’t such a brat, she probably would’ve looked after you.”

She took a swig from her can as she dialed a number, mumbling under her breath, “Hell, your dad would probably still be here if it weren’t for you.”

You felt the weight of the world and its problems all at once. Your shoulders slumped, your body feeling like it's the heaviest thing on the planet. Your gaze became unfocused as your mind began recoiling in on itself.

You stole a glance at the TV, the vibrant rainbow light illuminating your face.

The show wasn’t rolling to the next segment. It was frozen on the artist. You could tell the tape was still running, because tracking lines would occasionally slice through the screen.

The puppet looked as if he was peering right at you. His sleepy eyelids were peeled back to expose the whites, the pupils just tiny dots in the expanse. He still supported a smile, making the analogue visual even more creepy.

A shiver ran down your spine, finding it hard to shake the feeling you were being watched.

The slam of the phone against the wall broke you out of your observation. A hand was at your collar again, forcing your weak legs to stand up.

“Get the fuck to bed, I need to go to the police station.”

You didn’t argue back. Your legs started to move on their own as the world began auto-playing around you.

Your mom clicked off the TV with the remote. The bright visual blipped off, leaving the room blanketed in thick darkness.

Except for one thing.

“What the fuck?”

You dared to glance back at your mom.

“Your stupid fucking show ruined the TV!”

On the screen, you could see the vague outline of two white eyes that burned into glossy glass. ---------

Light filtered through the tiny windows of the storeroom, encroaching on your deep slumber. You blearily blinked the world in, a hand rubbing the sleep away from your eyes.

You desperately tried to remember the details of your dream. Only cloudy snippets came into view, and you could tell it definitely wasn’t pleasant.

You decided to shove it deep down and focus on the now. You swung your legs off of the bed and went to the bathroom to freshen up.

Your morning routine went normal. Teeth, shower, get dressed. Something felt off, though. You stared at yourself in the mirror extra hard to try to pinpoint what it was.

The fine lines around your eyes had almost all but disappeared.

You contemplated its reasoning. Retinol and vitamin C serums aside, maybe the easy-going nature of this place really was doing something good for your health.

If you did decide to stay, maybe you should ask Howdy to special order your skincare products. In a world full of felt and plush, you still wanted to get some selfcare in.

When you made your way down to the store, Howdy was already at the front counter. He was casually leafing through the local newspaper, while one of his hands held a porcelain cup that read ‘Best Bug.’ He took a long slurp of the dark coffee from his cup. A floorboard creaked under your weight, causing him to pull his attention to you.

Eyebags hung from his eyes, but he still gave you a warm smile. “Good morning, grasshopper. Sleep well?”

“Better than you, it seems,” you gave a terse smile at the towering man, gesturing to his exhausted face. “Everything alright?”

A light blush dusted his emerald cheeks. A free hand went up to rub the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. I was just working on something last night, that’s all.”

You quirked a brow, “Oh?”

He looked like he was debating on telling you or not. Finally, he reached underneath the counter to pull out a yellow apron. On a corner was an embroidered green grasshopper. He offered it to you shyly.

It took you a hot moment to process it. Your hands grasp the rough fabric, gingerly fingering over the delicate stitching. You shook her head in disbelief, “I… I can’t accept this.”

Howdy’s smile was delicate and sincere, “Think of it as a gift to remember Home by, for whenever you decide to leave.”

Emotions threatened to bubble and surface, the generosity overwhelming you. You felt tears burn your eyes, but you forced the feelings down. Instead, you accepted the gift. You pushed your head through the apron loop, tying the back straps into a bow. You gave the caterpillar a little twirl to show off his handiwork. “How does it look?”

He beamed, “You look like a proper worker at Howdy’s Place.”

Warmth spread through your chest. You felt a strange emotion boil in your stomach. Pride? Happiness? All of it was very foreign. All you knew is that a large smile decorated your face and it was near impossible to pry off.

“Thank you, Howdy. This is amazing.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Anything for the bodega’s first helper.”

The rest of the morning felt like you were walking on cloud nine. You still did chores around the shoppe, like sweeping and stock. But it felt easy and purposeful. Every time you did something right, the caterpillar made sure to praise you for it.

The first customer of the day was the grey puppet, Frank.

The grumpy puppet placed a book on the counter with a thump . His voice drawled out tiredly, “So, is it in yet?”

Howdy gave him a nod, his hands going to work pulling a package out from behind the counter. His hands deftly unwrapped the goods, placing the contents onto the tabletop. It was a series of strings and nets, which you could only assume is for … fishing? Bug catching?

“What do I owe you?” Frank began meticulously collecting the nets, folding them and putting them in a bag.

Howdy hummed. His eyes roamed the shoppe for a moment before landing on yours. He gave you a devilish smile. “I think my assistant will be able to help you with that.”

You swallowed hard and gave the shopkeep a deer-in-headlight stare.

Frank gave you a once over, his frown deepening. “The newcomer is ringing me up?” he sighed and shook his head.

“Don’t be like that, Frank. They’ve been a big help the past few days!”

“But do they even know how things work in Home?”

Howdy motioned for you to speak, his features soft and caring. A nervousness warmed your tummy as you felt their eyes bore into you.

You really hope you didn’t mess this up.

You fidgeted with the hems of your apron before speaking, “Can you give me a fact about nature?”

You mentally prepared for rejection. You hoped you guessed right that he was into nature.

Frank’s eyes widened, impressed. He adjusted his bowtie, a grandiose tone coming to his voice, “Did you know that butterfly wings are transparent ? They actually are covered in scales that reflect light, which is why we can see the colours!”

You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You actually… really appreciated that fact. It was definitely something you didn’t know - or maybe something you were taught in primary school and forgot. You beamed at him, “Wow, that’s good to know! Thank you, Frank!”

Howdy gave you a proud grin. He tapped the response into the cash register, causing it to screech out a receipt.

Frank gave you another look over before heading out. “Well, maybe you’re not too bad.”

The door chimed as he exited. It was quiet for a long moment. Then you felt a large hand plop onto your head, ruffling your hair. “You did good.”

You gazed up at the caterpillar in surprise. You were at a loss of words. Despite everything, you didn’t mind the attention. You leaned your head into the pat, appreciating the praise this shop owner gave you.

Midday tolled by once again. You were in the middle of dusting the top shelves when you heard a chime of the door. When you turn to greet the customer, you can feel the air in the bodega get thick.

Howdy was staring ahead at the newcomer, his whole body stiff. For once, you saw the bug hold a tense frown. He pulled out a spray bottle from under the counter and aggressively slammed it onto the table.

“So. Are we going to play nice?”

It felt like a wild west stand off.

In front of you was Wally, resting an elbow on the bushel of apples. He gave Howdy a cat-like grin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Howdy~.”

“Uh-huh. Are you here to buy some apples this time?”

Wally gave a nonchalant shrug, “Maybe. Or maybe I wanted to steal your helper away.”

Howdy clicked his tongue as he rolled his eyes. “Well, ask them, then.”

The cardigan puppet’s mischievous smirk melted as he looked at you. Adoration sparked in his eyes as he gazed over your features. “Neighbour, that apron fits you so well!”

For some reason, the compliment made your heart race. You don’t know why, but the way he looked at you made your stomach flip. A pink hue warmed your cheeks as you showed off the apron, “Thanks. Howdy made it for me.”

“My, how generous of him.”

A pair of Howdy’s arms crossed against his chest. He was losing patience with the shorter puppet.

Wally took the hint rather fast. “Well, I was wondering if you wanted to go painting with me today? It’s a gorgeous day outside.”

You took a quick glance out the window. The sun was out, and it looked like another beautiful day in paradise. You contemplated whether it was good practice to ditch work. Looking up to Howdy, you nonverbally asked for permission.

Howdy looked down at you, expression tense. It took him a solid moment before he deflated with a sigh. Wally won … this time. “Go enjoy the day, grasshopper.”

You lit up with excitement, hastily untying the apron from your being. You slung it onto a hook next to the counter, hurrying to Wally’s side. “Thanks, Howdy!”

Howdy waved you off, giving the yellow puppet a pointed glare, “Bring them back by supper time!”

Wally gave another dismissive shrug at the fussy shopkeep, opening the door for you, like the gentleman that he is.

You stepped out into the vibrant world, the sun warming your skin. You sucked in a deep breath, feeling more alive than you’ve ever felt.

The pair of you walked side by side, making your way to the crest of the hill to Wally’s home. Something felt… off, though. You kept stealing glances at the puppet, trying to figure out if there was something different about him.

Wally let you do it a few times. About the 6th time, he gave you a sly smirk, deciding to call you out on it. “Admiring something, neighbour?”

You gave him an exasperated huff, heat rising up to your face. “Tch!! No!”

He placed a hand on his chest, feigning pain. “Oh, I’m hurt.”

“It’s not - I mean, you are -” you stumbled over your words as you tried to desperately explain your thoughts. You slapped your forehead with your palm. The puppet just watched you smugly as you tried to recollect yourself.

You started over. “Did you… get taller?”

If he had eyebrows, he’d be raising them at you. “N…no?”

Your eyes bore into him, extracting every fine detail there was. Last you saw him, he was definitely a lot shorter than you. But now, he was almost at eye level. You wracked your brain as to why that might be.

“Maybe you got shorter,” Even in his monotonous tone, you could tell that he was joking.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

“Maybe you’re misremembering something, then?”

“How can you ‘misremember’ someone’s height?”

“You tell me, I’m apparently taller now,” he gave you a devilish smirk.

You rolled your eyes at his antics. Maybe you were misremembering. The pure shock of landing in a puppet dream world would scramble your brain a bit.

It wasn’t long until you reached Home, at which the house waved its shutters to you in greeting. You waved back, partially just to be polite. You’re still not quite used to a sentient house.

His easel and art supplies were all set up outside, with an empty stool on the opposite end of the easel. Wally casually strode to the seat, pulling a shiny red apple out from his pants’ pocket and placing it gently on the chair.

It took you a long moment to process where the hell he got that apple from . You gasped, “W-wait, did you steal ?”

Wally feigned innocence, his smile only widening, “ Noo ~! I borrowed it!”

“So you plan on returning it?”

A pause.

“...Wally?”

“One does not simply return an artists’ muse!” he dramatically tilted his head back, gesturing broadly to fruit.

You couldn’t find yourself being mad at this silly man. You hid a smile behind a hand, a giggle billowing out. Wally watched you with his hooded eyes, enamoured by your laugh.

Once your laughter settled, the puppet man began walking to his house. “So, should I get you some supplies? What’s your medium? Paint?” A pause. “Crayons?”

You blinked at the suggestion. Something tapped at your brain - a memory that was trying to resurface. You furrowed your brows as you concentrated on the fleeting memory, but it was futile. It fluttered away like a butterfly deep into your subconscious.

He was staring at you now, making you realise you were taking a bit too long to respond. “I don’t think I’ve painted before.”

He gasped! “Well, that’s no good! Let me get some beginner supplies! I’ll teach you!”

With that, he disappeared into the darkness of his home, leaving you alone with… well, Home.

The house’s eyes stared at you curiously, making your skin crawl. You cleared your throat awkwardly. “Nice guy, ain’t he?”

Home creaked in response, assuming that it was agreeing with you.

A few more long, awkward moments pass until Wally emerges with a spare easel and canvas. He placed it right next to his set up.

Looking at it, his equipment looked professional . He must really know what he was doing.

A pang of self consciousness hit you as you settled next to the art set he provided you. You hoped you didn’t make an ass out of yourself in front of… well, a full-time artist by trade.

When he sat next to you, you realised how he radiated with excitement. He must really enjoy sharing what he loves. The feeling quickly disappeared once his soothing voice reached out to you, “Are you ready to start?”

You nodded in resolve. He picked up a prepped paint brush, and you mirrored his movements.

A gentle quietness rested over the both of you as you concentrated on following Wally’s brush strokes. Occasionally he would sweetly instruct you on how to do certain techniques.

The apple came together nicely. His was a beautiful still-life, while yours… was definitely a kid’s knock off. But you didn’t care. The amount of detail you put into it made you proud. You bubbled happily as you followed his last bit of instructions.

“If you put some white right there, it’ll accent the highlights!” He demonstrated the technique on his meticulous painting.

You put a blot of white on the peak of the apple’s skin. You sat back to admire your work, smiling proudly from ear to ear. Wally watched in absolute delight, clapping his plush hands.

“Wonderful, Darling! Absolutely stunning!”

Your stomach did a flip again at the pet name. You bashfully ran a hand across your heated cheek. “Well, you’re a good teacher.”

“Well, maybe you’re a good student,” He shook his head and chuckled, going back to do some final touch ups on his canvas. “Maybe next time we should paint a forest.”

That dark feeling tapped at your mind again. A long, distant memory that was trying to break free. A heaviness weighed on your head as you stared at the puppet next to you. Your eyes searched him, trying to grasp for any clues.

Nothing.

A sense of desperate dread sank in your core.

Wally didn’t look at you. His permanent smile twitched. “If you stare any longer, my felt will get holes.”

You blinked away, your lap now the most interesting thing to look at. A sense of loss overwhelmed you.

A tender, fuzzy hand reached for yours, the fabric brushing against your knuckles. The man next to you pulled you from your thoughts as he sat closer. Those kind-hearted eyes searched for yours, the darkness of his pupils soothing even the scariest of feelings. His sincere, honeyed words whispered to you, “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

Your chest felt heavy. You sucked in a painful breath as you forced the words out. “Did… did this happen before?”

He cocked his head inquisitively, waiting for you to elaborate.

“This just seems… very familiar.”

He gave you a sweet smile. “Maybe in your dreams? Or maybe,” he tried to land a joke, his tone consoling all the same, “it was in another universe where we were destined to paint together.”

You exhaled a faint chuckle. Your eyes kept in contact with his, feeling yourself getting lost in the dark expanse. Time felt like it stood still as you both gazed into each other’s souls. That dark fog lifted from within you, being replaced with comfort. You didn’t realise it, but you were slowly leaning into his side.

“Will I ever go home?” The words left your lips before you even had time to process them.

He watched silently for a beat, his hand squeezing yours. Your cheek was now resting against his shoulder as you looked up at him expectantly.

“That’s up for you to decide, sweetheart.”

You finally broke eye contact by shoving your face into the fabric of his cardigan. He didn’t flinch away from it. “Why is this the hardest decision ever?”

“Because it’s an important one.”

There was another still moment. He decided to use his free hand to coerce your chin up to look at him again. “If you decide to stay here, you can be Howdy’s apprentice? He’s quite the salesman.”

You internally scoffed. You don’t know about him being a salesman but… it’s definitely an interesting opportunity. He’s definitely integral to the town.

“This can always be a holiday for you. A little Home away from home?” He bartered the idea.

You sighed. “I… have to think about it still.”

“Don’t rush yourself. You don’t want to make hasty decisions.”

You nodded, finally agreeing to push the thought to the side for now.

A purple gradient painted the sky, stars starting to dot the darkening expanse. You didn’t realise how much time passed when you were with Wally.

He broke the comforting closeness, pulling you to your feet. “I think I have to take you back now. I don’t want Howdy on me for being late.”

You puffed out your cheeks in mock pain, tone still joking, “You know, I’m not a kid!”

Wally rolled his eyes, that mischievous grin coming right back. He air quoted with a hand, “Of course, ‘young grasshopper!’”

You released another exasperated huff, bantering with the puppet as you walked hand in hand back to the bodega.

The night was wholesome, and when you parted from him, you felt yourself missing his touch.

#welcome home #welcome home fanfic #wally darling x you #wally darling / reader #wally darling x reader #writing #wally darling #howdy pillar #i really should upload all of the chapters at once #posted from my ao3 #tw: childhood trauma #tw: scopophobia #tw: alchohol mention

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cal-puddies · 4 years ago

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touch, make love, taste you // calum hood

hoe brain out here working overtime. I wanted to give what do i more of a chance, but i feel like this needs to be shared. @kindahoping4forever has seen this from just the seedling and she said we’re burning down and flooding clown town. any feedback will be welcome!

Prompt: hoe brain prompted me// no prompt

Warnings: Boyfriend! Calum, restraints, toys, idk... it’s just a whole mess of sex.

Word Count: 1718

Cass & Crystal’s Collab Masterlist

solo masterlist linked in bio.

Let us know what you think!

Cal grins at you and your knees go a little weak. “How ya feelin pretty girl?” He smirks, the light sheen from your first orgasm still on his face.

“So good handsome.” You murmur.

“These still feel ok?” He asks, gently pulling on the four restraints that clipped your wrists to your ankles, keeping your knees bent and legs spread for him.

“Yeah.” You nod.

“Let me know immediately if they don’t.” He smiles sweetly.

“I will baby.” You agree.

“And I’m free to do anything we talked about?” He double checks, watching you nod. “Ok, I’m gonna grab the blindfold.” He gently rubs your clit before getting off the bed.

He comes back with the blindfold and a few toys, but you don’t really pay attention to what he’s got. He kneels on the bed again and leans in to kiss you, before putting the blindfold over your eyes. “I love you,” he whispers.

“Love you too… I trust you Cal.” You say, sensing he needs to hear it.

He lets out a breath and reaches for the vibrator, he turns it on and teases it over your clit. Your body shudders. You feel him situate himself, kneeling on the bed. He continues to tease the vibrator and then he pulls it away to pinch your clit. A whine escapes your lips. “Gonna be a good girl for me?” He asks.

“Yeah… yes… Cal.” You moan.

He presses the vibe back to your clit. He creates a rhythm with shallow thrusts of his fingers into you, tapping up the vibrations on the toy. It doesn't take long for you to reach the edge, he watches your muscles flex and pulls the toy and fingers away. He smacks your clit 4 times, and your thighs twice.

He presses the vibe back to your clit and you sigh loudly. He leans over and spits onto your pussy. He gently rubs it over your pussy, and then trails his fingers lower, gently massaging over your tighter hole. He grins as you moan.

“Does that feel good for you pretty girl?” He teases and he grins as you nod. He very gently starts to push just the tip of his pointer finger in, and he moves the vibe all over your clit, pressing it against your opening.

He pushes the finger in further, teasing a second one in with it.

You know it’s up to you to tell him if something isn’t working for you. Part of the conversation was that he wasn’t going to constantly check since you both trust each other.

His lips gently brush over your knee quickly and you whimper a little, feeling his fingers push all the way in. “Cal.” You breathe.

He takes the vibe and his fingers away and you whine loudly, but then his tongue is stroking over your opening, his lips wrap around your clit. “So wet,” he murmurs. He sits up and pushes the vibe back to your clit and his fingers push gently back into your ass, though this time he’s added lube and doesn’t take it slow. His fingers move slowly in and out of you a few times and then the vibe is turned up. “You’re so open for me.” He murmurs. Your hips buck up in time with his fingers just once, and he takes everything away again.

He rubs his entire hand over your pussy, applying extra pressure over your clit, and then smacks your pussy multiple times in quick succession.

The vibe is returned to your clit once again, but instead of his fingers, you feel the cool metal of a plug at your ass, and you know almost instantly that it’s not your normal plug, it’s already wider, “thought we’d go for a little stretch.” He hums above you, “you just… take the other one so easily now.”

He watches your hands grip around your feet as you pull your legs back toward your chest, opening yourself up more. You press your head back against the bed and push your chest up, “holy fuck… Calum please.” You moan.

He continues to gently work the plug in and out, stretching you more and more. He clicks up the vibe again.

And it’s immediately met with you chanting “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.”

Cal watches your body close, brings you to the very very edge and pulls the vibe away, pushing the plug all the way in. He watches the building orgasm dissipate, grinning to himself even though you can’t see it. “Not yet, pretty girl…. look at you. Open for me, so hot.” You feel his hand on your pussy, “so fuckin creamy, baby. Fuck.” He groans.

You feel his cock pushing between your pussy lips, it’s so warm from all the blood pumping through him. “Do you feel this?” He asks, slapping it against your clit, “you do this to me, pretty girl… so fuckin hard.” He slicks his cock through your pussy lips a couple more times, and you can hear as he begins to stroke his hand over his cock, he lets out breathy moans. “So good, pretty girl.” He pushes your legs apart and presses his knee against the plug, and presses the vibe to your clit, pushing it up to the highest he knew you’d be able to take. He inhales sharply through his nose as you let out the loud, guttural moan he lives for.

“Calum, oh god… fuck baby, please.”

“I know. I’ve pushed a lot. You’ll get it.” He groans, “I’m so fuckin proud of you baby. So fuckin hot to have you this way.”

“Baby baby baby…” you chant, and he knows you aren’t going to hold on much longer.

“C’mon pretty girl, you earned it. Cum for me.” He encourages. Your body seems to respond immediately, your hips thrust up, and when they come back down, you arch your back and rock yourself against his knee, giving you more friction against the plug.

“Oh my god… holy fuck… please please please…”

“Needy girl…” he chuckles, watching your muscles start to tense, he presses the vibe hard to your clit, moving it slightly.

“Right there… right there… right there!” It’s loud, even in your own ears, but he doesn’t move it, sticking to his word to give you the orgasm, finally. You push your hips up again, and he watches your fingers dig into your ankles. “Holy fuck, holy fuck…” he lets your body fully relax before he pulls the vibe away. He turns it off and he leans over you, pushing the blindfold off before forcefully pressing his lips to yours. You try to grab onto him, and remember your wrists are bound to your ankles. He gently rubs your side to soothe you. “So good.” You murmur, once the kiss becomes less needy.

“So good for me baby… mind if I finish up?” He checks, knowing he’d put you through a lot.

“Yeah… wan you ta cum too.” You nod, clearly struggling with coherency.

“I’m gonna leave the blindfold off.” He kisses your nose, and presses his lips to yours again.

He sits up again, you watch him settling in a new position, he pushes his cock in your pussy, and you squeeze around it, he grins up at you and wipes the head of the vibrator through your slick folds. He presses it against his balls and pushes himself further inside your, nestling the vibe between his balls and the end of the plug.

He pushes your thigh and arm flush against the bed, wrapping his large hand around as much of your thigh as he could and holding it tight. He doesn’t thrust, just wants to feel inside you while the toy massages his balls.

He watches your eyes roll back as he clicks up the vibe again. He grips your hip to pin you down, he doesn’t wanna be any deeper than he is in you.

He listens as you moan and babble, your eyes are hazy as they scan over him, he’s having a hard time focusing on you as well. He feels your stomach muscles tighten under his hand, and he can tell you’re gonna cum again. He doesn’t talk about it, just lets it happen.

“Fuck… that’s it pretty girl. I’m so close… thank you for this.” He moans.

He makes out his name and ‘please’ over and over from your babbling. He feels his balls tighten and he starts to release, letting a little of the cum spill inside you. He pulls out and pulls the vibe off his balls, clicking it off and fisting his cock, spraying the rest of his cum over your pussy and thighs, letting it drip over your skin. He rubs his thumb over your clit, using his cum as lube.

“Baby.” He murmurs, he waits until your eyes find his. “So good.” You nod. He gently presses the plug with his fingers, “you ready to have this out.”

“Mmm mmm,” you shake your head and try to make grabby-hands at him. He quickly unfastens the restraints, freeing your ankles and wrists, he briefly rubs your ankles, and then grabs your hands and rubs his thumbs over your wrists before moving to lay next to you. He kisses each of your wrists and pulls you tight against him, you take advantage of having your limbs released and wrap yourself around him.

He holds onto you, rolling on his back so you can curl up on his chest. He gently pets your hair, kissing the top of your head every couple minutes. He waits you out, you finally look up at him and he grins at you. You gently press your lips to his, and he lets you deepen it, making it slow and passionate until you pull away.

“You ok?” He checks.

“Yeah, I thought I was gonna get anal.” You chuckle.

“Mmm mmm, this was all about you and anal is usually about me.” He hums. “You were so good, though, so pretty, so open, so sweet, so trusting.” He lists. “And I’m so proud.”

You prop your head in your hand and look at him. “Who else would I trust like I trust you?” You whisper.

“Hopefully no one enough to allow them to do this, love.” He chuckles.

#cass #smut #calum hood #but cal #calum hood smut #5sos #5 seconds of summer #does anyone need a cold shower?#i do #feedback please #listen #he can do this to me #welcome to clown town #hoe brain at its finest #clown town is burned down and flooded #FRIENDSHIP 🦦🦦#cass+crystal

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couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name · 3 years ago

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dean and adam need to unionize against sam, he's been the spoiled baby of the family for Too Long. I think when they start trying to all get to know each other they're all kinda expecting things to be awkward with dean, since 'hey the archangel you're kinda in love with was originally supposed to be inside me' and things to be a little easier with sam, since they at least could trauma bond a bit about the cage, but like. adam spends an hour having a basic ice breaker conversation with sam and he already wants to crawl back into the pit. he thinks sam is so PAINFULLY uncool. he's like dude I was in marching band in high school and even I would have shoved you into a locker. how have you survived this long with the personality of a plank of wood. dean thinks it's HILARIOUS and he and adam end up like immediately clicking. he's so thrilled to finally have someone he can (lovingly) mock sam with. every time the three of them hang out he's like hey adam let me tell you about the time sam pissed himself at junior prom. let me tell you about how sam is 35 and STILL can't do his own laundry without flooding the place. let me tell you about sam's thing with clowns. sam is SO scandalized by this and he keeps trying to counter with embarrassing stories about dean but adam shoots them all down. like, he'll say 'hey let's talk about the time when dean was 8 and burned down a motel room trying to make breakfast' and adam is IMMEDIATELY like 'you think john endangering his life by leaving him alone with you unsupervised and expecting him to know how to cook properly without teaching him is funny? interesting, samuel' but like dean could tell the same story and adam would make a point to crack up, he just Refuses to give sam the satisfaction lmao. they tease this man over EVERYTHING when they're together, sam simply cannot catch a break. Dean and Cas and Adam and Michael will go on double dates and Sam will be like 'Eileen will be in town next weekend' and they'll all be like 'cool!' and then invite her to hang out without him (dean will text him their location as an invitation because he's still a sucker, but only AFTER adam sends a group selfie to sam captioned 'stealing ur girl'). I do also think that from what little we saw of adam's personality he's just simply more like dean, so they probably have similar interests and everything so it's not like they're Only bonding over bullying sam, but like, being able to torment the middle child is certainly a nice bonus lmao. one time sam went on his run a little earlier than usual and passed a farmer's market on the way home and saw his brothers there without him, and he's never felt such pure betrayal in his entire life.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #adam milligan #molly mumbles

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mountswhore · 3 years ago

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𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 — mason mount

summary: chelsea’s massage therapist, and mason’s long term crush, had moved to a different club. but after reuniting at nationals, you realise just how much you missed him.

notes: requests are open, just ask! this is so fucking long, please read when you have time.

“I will take care of you.” + “I could never get tired of you.”

for @masterclassbaby

“she’s pretty,” mason hummed, chin in the palm of his hands and eyes gazing at you. chelsea’s newest sports massage therapist. he watched as you conversed with a few of the injured teammates, the boys on either side of him laughing at his blushed cheeks.

“mounty’s in love.” chilly sang, pushing mason gently. the three of them were laying on the turf, waiting for their trainer to arrive and being introduced to the pretty lady who would be massaging their injured limbs from now on. “go on, make a move before kai does. you know he will.”

“i’m not making any moves,” mason huffed and pushed himself to his feet, ben following suit and pulling a ball towards him with his foot, “can i appreciate her beauty without wanting to make a move?” ben rolled his eyes at his friend, eyes now focused on the ball for the first time in twenty minutes.

“so you’re just going to stare at her, like a creep.” ben stated, stopping the ball with the side of his foot and kicked it back to mason. “noted.” mason was barely focused, looking over to you every time you laughed or your voice echoed. he’d laugh with you, crinkling his nose when you did, it was sickening.

ben had kicked the ball to mason’s feet, where is stilled and hadn’t even broken his stare. he had ‘regained control of the ball’ by kicking mason’s ankles, which had definitely caught his attention and caused him to hiss in pain. “you fucker, what did you do that for?”

“i just gave you a reason to talk to her, you clown.” ben revealed sarcastically, mason limping over to you as you held a look of concern.

“everything okay, mount?” you politely asked, the slight touch on his back as well as hearing his name fall from your mouth was sending him into a frenzy. he just nodded, and followed you inside to where your new office resided. “what the hell happened? last time i looked, you were kicking a ball about with chilly.”

your voice was as silky as he’d imagined. “yeah, he’s a bit slow. so he thought kicking me in the ankles would be a wise idea.” you couldn’t help but giggle at the man’s joke, avoiding his gaze as you were sure to blush. this man was attractive, but it was your first day, you had to remain professional.

“i better get to work,” you huffed, rubbing some hand sanitiser onto your hands and pulling his socks down. “we can’t have chelsea’s best player injured a few days before the game,” you’d finally met eyes and stared at each other for a brief second, before bashful looking away.

“you think that?” mason almost sounded unsure of himself.

“of course,” you grinned and applied some pressure to the side of his ankle, “i’d say you’re one of the best.” mason hummed almost silently, resting his head back on the table. it didn’t hurt, and if anything, he’d have to thank chilly for kicking his ankles, as it got you two talking.

weeks had passed, mason visiting your office most days with random excuses.

“my legs are fine. but maybe a shoulder rub for good luck?”

“i bought you a smoothie.”

“it’s cold outside, and i told the boys my thighs were sore.”

“now i’m just bored.”

every time he’d appear, you’d just pull up a chair instead of prepping the table. he’d talk to you about the most random of things, the pair of you having an intense debate on whether or not ross and rachel were on a break. he’d quickly become your favourite visitor.

“mr. mount, to what do i owe the pleasure?” you questioned, knowing it was him just by the way he fiddled with the handle before opening the door. he grinned at the nickname, sitting in the desk chair beside you.

“i actually came to ask if you wanted to go for a drink tonight. the boys were meant to, but now it looks like i’m all alone.” mason explained, a white lie thrown into the mix. he wasn’t being left by the boys, he asked them to cancel, so he could spend some with you. “so, you fancy it?”

“sure.” you smiled, accepting his invitation before you could overthink your way into cancelling. “i’ll text you my address.” he nodded his head, resting his head on his hands as you got on with paperwork. you could see out of the corner of your eye, he was staring at you as you worked. he had no training to be getting on with, and saw a better pastime in watching you work.

when you’d finally finished work and gotten yourself dressed up, mason was even more in awe of you. you looked adorable at work, and now he’d seen you in a new light. it’s like seeing your crush outside of school, it’s weird not seeing them in uniform, but seeing a new layer of them was good. he’d picked you up and taken you to the nicest pub he could find, it was a quiet one. it was a pub you had to pay extra for to sit on the terrace with a table to yourself. but he was willing to go the distance.

“it’s weird not seeing you in your kit.” you mentioned, staring at his impeccable sense of fashion. like he’d been ripped from the front page of asos. mason chuckled loudly and sipped on his beer, after doing a brief ‘cheers’ with you. it was british tradition, after all.

“i know. i’m used to seeing you in leggings and a chelsea top.” mason observed, his cheeks blushing at the way you looked at him. he felt the butterflies begin to swarm in his stomach, like they did on the way here. “now you’re in a dress, i can see your legs.” his eyes widened at the weird statement that just fell from his lips, face burning with embarrassment. “sorry, that sounded so creepy.”

you burst into laughter, feeling anything but disturbed. in fact, you felt more comfortable with him. “don’t worry about it, you’re easy to feel comfortable with.” mason took this chance to hide his rosy cheeks by sipping on his beer. the pair of you conversed for well over an hour, your conversations from work spilling into the mix too. and soon enough you were laughing on the walk back to your home.

“that’s hilarious. i can’t believe we could’ve almost met years ago.” you exclaimed, mason proud of recalling that memory. the pair of you remembered an awful christmas concert that happened in a town near central london, and were almost inches apart unknowingly covering your ears at the screeches made by the backup singers.

you’d ended up at your door, mason standing just centimetres away from your face. you knew what he wanted, and you wanted it to. so, with the confidence given to you by the mixer you’d just downed a while ago, you closed the gap between you and engaged in a sweet kiss with him. it was well overdue, mason’s teammates would say as he told them the following day.

you’d settled in really nicely with the team, enjoying every day you spent at the training grounds. you’d only been on that one drink date with mason, always planning to reschedule another but you’d both be too busy to do so. it didn’t stop you from texting nonstop and have some late night facetime calls. you were really beginning to like each other. it was as if nothing could ruin your happiness you felt with your life at this moment.

until you’d been pulled aside and told by chelsea’s own manager that a man united massage therapist had quit, offering you the job. it would mean your whole life would shift, you’d have to move, you’d have to make friends with a team all over again, and leave mason. you couldn’t bear telling him, which you’d also been told to do. you’d have to break the news to your beloved team, who would come and cheer with you after a win, and always pester you with random requests. you were each of their’s personal assistant almost, loving your relationship with them all. and mason, you knew he’d be crushed, the girl he was so deeply falling for, being told to move to another club.

you were on edge since that very morning, not being your usual joking self with your boys as they came in for their sessions. you’d weakly smile at them and make small talk whilst tending to their stiff joints, then let them leave. all the boys carried on with their day, assuming you were just having a bad day. but mason could see through you, he could tell something was playing on your mind.

as you were putting pressure on mason’s ankle, which he’d been take off the pitch for last week, he grabbed your arm gently. sitting up, he pulled you close to him and held you how he usually did. his hands grazing your sides and his eyes almost burning holes into your own. “talk to me, pretty. what’s on your mind?”

you shook your head. “i’d go easy on the foot today, mount. i don’t want to see you benched next game.” would you even be able to see their next game? it brought you close to tears throughout the day, but being trapped in a room with mason, you were bound to cry and tell him everything.

his grip didn’t leave your arm, instead he pulled you closer to him and held you close to his chest, now standing and towering over you. you felt a sob erupt through your chest, opening the flood gates as you cried into him. he’d never seen you like this, you were always his smiling ball of sunshine. “talk to me, y/n.”

“they’re moving me.” you simply stated, hoping not to say another word and him just understand completely. but it didn’t work like that, none of the team knew. mason would be the first to know, and you had to tell the rest of the team before the day was up. as this weekend you’d be arranging accommodation in manchester whilst you looked for permanent residence, as well as meeting the team and staff you’d be working for.

“what?”

“they’re moving me to united, mase. a therapist quit over there and they asked for me, your manager signed me over a few days ago. and i’m gonna be leaving you boys.” you explained, mason’s grip on you loosening as he tried to come to terms with what you were saying. he’d had his fair share of bad news in his life, but this was the biggest blow he’d felt in a while.

“they can’t do that,” mason stuttered over his tears, a frown cast upon his face, “they can’t just expect you to pack up and leave.” you placed your hands over his cheeks, forcing him to look down at you. that’s when his tears began to fall, looking so vulnerably at each other in this time of sadness.

“they can, mason. and they have, i need to go this weekend to meet the team and look to move up there.” you admitted, your hands refused to leave his face. you were soaking up every bit of mason you could before you left. long-distance didn’t work for either of you, especially with how busy you both were. the only time you’d see each other would be if chelsea were to play united.

“i can’t lose you, y/n.” he confessed, pulling you into him and resting his head above yours. it wasn’t just losing a girl he was seeing, it was losing someone he loved. he’d fallen deeply in love with you — but telling you would just hinder your movement. he couldn’t make it any harder than it was, it would ruin you. he just had to let you go.

that afternoon, you’d thought about what you were going to say and met the boys on the pitch. the second mason saw you, it took everything in him to not cry into his hands. but he managed to stay strong. you stood weakly beside the team manager, avoiding everyone’s eyes and fiddling with your jumper sleeves.

“afternoon boys,” you greeted them, hearing a few cheers and whistles, they loved you, “i have some news. today will be my last day working with you. i’ve been transferred to united, which will take full effect this weekend. you guys have my number if you just want to talk rubbish, or have any questions for me.” it was a long while of hugging them all, laughing with them and repeating little inside jokes with them.

“what are you going to do without me, huh?” you asked reece, who just chuckled and gave you a squeeze. “i’ll miss you all, you know who i’ll be cheering on if you ever go against united.”

you’d settled in at united perfectly, but something was missing. it was always going to feel this way, nothing would ever break the bond you shared with the chelsea boys. even when they went head to head, and you’d catch mason’s eyes on the pitch, you’d have to hide your smile when they scored, and try even harder if mason was the one putting it in the back of the net. you got on well with the boys here, but you found yourself missing the boys back at chelsea, and most of all, mason.

months had passed since your move to manchester, and you were heading out of your office on a particular tiring friday afternoon, walking past united’s manager, who always seemed to be on his way to something.

“ah, y/n, just who i needed to see.” he commented, stopping you as you were headed out to find a late rashford for his session. “keep an eye on your emails tonight, please. you’ve been included in an international offer.” you nodded, not hearing anything past the word ‘email’. and when you’d gotten home that evening, waiting for your takeaway to arrive, you mindlessly scrolled your emails.

something about the upcoming world cup, saying you’d been selected as the teams massage therapist. it burned your eyes as you danced around your tiny living room; so happy to have a chance at seeing any of the chelsea boys again. you’d thought that after all these months of just seeing mason’s face in his instagram posts, he’d have forgotten about you and moved on. but it was the furthest from the truth.

mason watched over your socials for months, seeing your various pictures with the likes of rashford, shaw, and lingard. he made sure you had friends and was having a good time up north. but every night he’d go to bed, yearning for you and the time you both spent together. missing your first kiss, missing hearing the sound of your laugh in real life, not just through another footballers videos. he missed spending hours on the phone. and although he had a chance to reconnect with you, it would be too much for the both of you to handle. he’d miss you so much more, knowing you were simply unobtainable.

after signing all of the correct documents to show you could in fact work for the national team, you were on your way to the training grounds and coping with living in the camp alongside the boys and other members of staff. it was better than your tiny manchester apartment, that was for sure. you weren’t really needed outside for training, so you set up your office and began on your paperwork. time passed a lot quicker here than it did when you worked at united, it was nearing your lunch break already. a knock was placed at your door, bringing your out of your work daze.

“hello, stranger.” you heard from behind you, heart overjoyed that it was actually him. it was your mason. you turned round to greet him, standing up and immediately pulling him into a hug. it felt familiar, the only bit of familiarity you had in this place. “god, i missed you.” he even smelt the same, as creepy as it was to say.

“i knew you’d be called up,” you admitted to him, looking up at his red face. it was just like the first time, he was so nervous to talk to you, “you’re still my best player.” his hands found your cheeks, taking advantage of the affection not feeling awkward. it was as if you never left.

“you don’t understand how much i’ve missed you all these months, y/n,” he whispered, face centimetres away from yours. “how much i’ve wanted to kiss you again.” you wanted it too, you finally felt like you found your missing piece. but you had to remain professional, this was national level now, not just club level.

“trust me,” you whispered back at him, holding your hands above his own, “i’ve wanted to kiss this pretty face, too. but we have to be professional.” he nodded, understanding that if they were caught, you’d be the one facing repercussions, not him. so he respected your choice and stood back.

“what about when the day’s over, and we go back to the camp,” he suggested, a hand on your shoulder to stop you from turning around, “what would you say to me then?” you just shrugged, sitting back down in your chair and continuing your work. the remainder of your day was quiet, just talking about a few people tomorrow that have stiff joints that need loosening. you’d made your way back to camp, opening your door and sighing as you took your shoes off.

what room are you in? mason texted, waiting outside his door.

you’re eager, i just finished work. but i’m on the floor above you, room 39. you texted him back, speedily changing your attire for something more comfortable and freshening up. mason would be up here within seconds. and whilst there were no rules stating that the squad shouldn’t be in staff members rooms, it felt wrong.

“you’re gonna have to leave when nobody can see you.” you sighed, opening your door to an eager mason. he wormed past you and sat on your bed, semi annoyed that your bed was comfortable than his.

“so not only do you get a room to yourself, you get a bed that doesn’t feel like a plank of wood.” mason stated, clearly getting comfortable on your bed. “i just might have to stay here.” you rolled your eyes and sat beside him, resting your head on the pillow. “you tired?”

instead of saying anything, you nodded and inched closer to him. his right hand was drawing delicate patterns on your exposed arm, whilst the other was wrapped around you. this was the moment he wanted with you, even when you were working at chelsea. but it’s happening now and that’s all he cared about. holding the girl he still deeply loved in his arms.

“i’ll go down to dinner soon,” he mentioned, even if you could hear him or not, “maybe i’ll bring you something up.” a small kiss was placed on your temple, mason snuggling into you a bit more.

the next day, you knew you had some sessions. so you were up early, a text from mason on your phone.

i left late last night, i fell asleep once i came back from dinner. i hope you had a good night.

you blushed at his text, getting yourself prepared for the day. the boys had a match coming up soon and you wanted to be on top of your game, making sure they were all stretched and ready. you sat in your office, prepping your table and your paper work for the first person to enter.

you’d worked with grealish, bellingham, and lingard today. and they only had a few more hours training until they were done for the day. you sighed in your seat and rested your head against your desk, arms and hands sore. your handle was violently shoved down, your door opening in the process. startled, you watched declan carry his best mate in.

“he rolled his ankle taking a kick,” declan explained, helping his friend onto the table. you quickly sanitised your hands and pulled his sock down to observe his ankle. “will he be okay for the game in a few days?”

“yes, dec. he’ll be out in no time.” you reassured his friend, mason smiling through the sharp pain shooting through his ankle. declan had left shortly afterwards, leaving you to giggle at mason.

“what you giggling at, hm?” mason questioned, a finger tickling your side. you squirmed and brushed a hand over his head, his features relaxing under your touch.

“it’s always the ankles, hm?” you retorted, mason rolling his eyes before letting out a laugh of his own. “let’s get you back on your feet in time for this game.” you had taken his boot and sock off, applying gentle pressure to the sides of his ankle and seeing how badly he reacted to the pain.

after the next few days of training, it was finally time for the match. you stood nervously on the side of the pitch, watching the ball being passed around. you watched as it had gone to mason, someone from the opposing team sliding into mason, and knocking his ankles together. he fell and began to yell in pain, the medics rushing over to him and assessing the pain. after realising it was not too serious, but he still had to be taken off, they’d given the job to you.

mason sat on one of the chairs beside you, head leaned back as you pulled his socks down. he winced as your small, cold fingers had pressed different parts of his ankle, but it didn’t feel bad. in fact, it was quite relieving. “it really is always the ankles,” mason finally agreed, making you chuckle and sit on the floor opposite him, “god, it fucking hurts.”

“i will take care of you,” you mentioned, your hand sliding into his. he smiled at the contact, his free hands gently tickling your side. this small amount of public affection felt scary, but good. you knew someone would pick up on it, but you didn’t care in the slightest. you had been away from mason for far too long. months and months apart, yearning for each other every second you were awake.

when the match was over, england scoring a whopping 4-0, mason was by your side for the rest of the evening. even getting onto the coach to go home, he sat beside you the whole way; his hand in yours and his head gently resting against your shoulders. when heading back to camp, knowing you had a day’s break before the boys were back on for training again in time for the next match, mason followed you to your room. you didn’t mind, neither did anybody else really.

you’d gotten into bed beside him that night, eyes heavy from the amount of work you’d both put in today, and the buzzed feeling from declaring victory had awoken something in him. he had the urge to kiss you, like he has every moment he’s spent with you recently, but more than that. he wanted to tell you he loved you, but decided to keep quiet. he wanted to save it for another day, maybe someday more special, when you weren’t trying to catch up on sleep between games.

“are you tired of me?” mason asked, releasing his voice into the darkness. he had no idea whether you were awake or asleep, as half an hour had passed of you both enjoying each other’s presence. you were wide awake, although your eyes told a different story.

“i’m tired in general,” you admitted, rolling over to face him, barely catching his pearly whites in the dark, “but i could never get tired of you.” mason’s heart was beating through his chest, reaching out for your hand to place onto it. it was a special moment — feeling his heart rapidly paced from your words, you’d barely noticed mason’s arm around you as he pulled you into him.

“good, because i’m not letting you go again,” he spoke quietly, your hand now replaced with your head, feeling his pulses on your cheekbone. you smiled for the millionth time that day, happy you had your mason back.

#money mase #mason mount x reader #mason mount smut #mason mount imagine #mason mount blurb #mason mount

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redhairedfeistynerd · 4 years ago

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Slush and a Side of Toys

Part 1

A/N: I'm months behind on everything but here is my piece for @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @sagechanoafterdark Winter/Holiday Festival Challenge. I chose #38 donating toys to children.

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, angst, frustrated reader, swearing, alcohol

Words: 5800+

Part 2 will be up soon!!

Please like, comment and reblog. I appreciate it and thanks for reading.

All mistakes are my own

A reminder - my work is not to be reposted anywhere.

There’s a muffled humming coming from somewhere under a pile of paperwork and takeout containers on your floor. The sound is constant, piercing, and irritating. Eyes still closed, head pounding from an evening of too much wine and schmoozing, you reached down towards the sounds and ran your hands over the stack, following the vibrations of your phone. Once found, you yanked it away from it charging cord and used every ounce of energy you had, pulling the phone close to your face. Opening one eye a sliver to hide from the light, you read from the bright screen.

Hey, listen, I know we've had our differences the last few years but I think it's time we put all of it behind us. I saw Rosie the other day and asked her how you were doing but she kept it pretty vague. I hope to hear from you soon, even if it's only a text to say you’re doing okay.

Reading over the message a second time, in utter shock that he had the audacity to message you and pissed that he even dare ask your friend about how you were; you decided to turn off your phone and toss it into a pile of clothing on the floor.

What. A. Dick.

Rolling back over into your cozy blanket cocoon, falling back asleep, temporarily pushing away any thoughts of the man from your past.

The message was all but forgotten until later that day when a familiar song came on the radio and you couldn’t help but think about how you had both downed several beers at a pub and sang it at the top of your lungs. Maybe it had been a dream earlier and the text never happened. Pulling your phone from your back pocket, hoping it was all your imagination, you indeed saw that there was a text.

The ever-so-hard to escape blue eyed man, was trying to weasel his way back into your life and you weren't having any of it. Dropping the phone into the bag sitting at your feet, getting up from the desk, shaking out a bit to ease the tension that one tiny text had accumulated.

"Don't think about him. Don't think about him. Don't think about him," you repeated the words over and over, hoping to push all thoughts aside. In stocking feet, walking around the small hole you called your office and continued to shake it out. The calm didn’t last as long as you hoped, anger slowly creeping up and out.

"Stupid frikkin guy!! UGH!" The sound of your disgruntled cry, shook you a bit, the frustration clearly coming out louder than expected. "All right, settle yourself down, you can't let him have this sort of pull over you," hoping the self-talk would work, you ran your hand through your hair and walked back to the desk. "Delete it, pretend that you never looked at it and it will go away."

There was no way the struggle going on inside your head would even fathom deleting the text. Truth be told, as much as you cursed and hated the thought of him trying to slide back into your life, there wasn’t a month that went by without a thought of him crossing your mind. A song playing, a Romcom from the 90s, the pizza you both loved so much. Why couldn’t you escape him?

You shot off a quick text to Rosie, curiosity was killing you now, itching inside you, desperate to find out how the hell you had come up in conversation.

Y/N -Word on the street is that you ran into a clown I once knew; I’m curious what was said.”

Rosie: Oh no, he didn’t.

Y/N: He did and it was pathetic

Rosie: It was a super quick interaction. Both of us waiting for a coffee and being friendly. He asked about you almost right off the bat though. It almost rendered me speechless after what happened.

Y/N - So, that’s it? What did you say? Did you tell him how fantastic my life is going and that I probably wouldn’t even remember him?

Rosie: you and I both know, that that��s a load of shit. I’ve had wine nights with you, that man-child has never left that brain of yours.

Y/N Shut up.

Rosie: Really though, it was super quick. I said you were doing charity work and were still in the city, happy and healthy.

Y/N- good to know. I’ll just sit here and pretend his message never happened then. Carry on as usual.

Rosie: see you later this week?

Y/N Definitely, bye babe.

Placing your phone down on your desk, you continued opening your mail: thank you cards for volunteering, appreciation notes from parents and kids, and requests for you to help out at other groups around town. The next month would be hectic, with collecting the many donations from around the city. You had to finish training several new volunteers that would assist with wrapping, delivering, and presenting gifts to the charities and individual families that you helped support during the Winter months.

It became a mechanical process, opening envelope after envelope, that you weren’t paying attention to the return addresses. It wasn’t until you read the first few lines that the letterhead caught your eye and did it burn.

Blue-eyed monster strikes again via his mother.

You knew it wasn’t the case though, his mom, was offering a bursary to some of the kids you helped out and she was reaching out to you and other groups in the city to help.

It didn’t take much to pull your mind from work once you had read the Evans name on the letter. Bits and pieces shifted in your mind; you couldn’t fight it any more today. The letter slipped to the floor and you sat back against your desk, the memories that you had been pushing away, were flooding back.

It all started innocently about three years ago, bumping into one another around town, having several acquaintances that knew each other, and a tendency to make the other smile when the lamest dad jokes were thrown around. His face was incredibly animated and you loved the way his eyebrows would jump up while he spoke, there was mischief behind them that you wanted to discover. Even a quick peek, would ease the curiosity.

You recognized that laugh from across the room of the gallery – full of heart and genuine. Turning around, you spotted Chris mingling with other attendees of the charity event. You were here to help raise money for low-income families in the community that could not afford music lessons or music therapy for their children. The profits from the art sold this evening, would help buy instruments for the school that was set to open the following month. You knew Chris had donated and you had volunteered to help teach the parents with baby's groups every second weekend. It was the least you could do, you had a bit of extra time and needed to give back to the community that helped you and your family out during your childhood.

“How did I know you would be here?”

You must have zoned out thinking about that boisterous laugh that you didn’t see Chris walking over to you. You smiled as he leaned in wrapping one arm around you, a beer being held in his other hand. His smell was intoxicating – a mixture of orange and the woodiness of sandalwood. Would it be wrong if you pulled him closer to take a quick whiff before he pulled away?

He took his time moving back from you, winking as his arm shifted back to his side and lifting the beer to his mouth with the other, take a long sip.

“So, you out here to buy some art?” he asked, taking another drink.

“No, not buying tonight. One of the pieces is mine, I donated it to help out.”

“You have something up for sale here?” He questioned, taking a quick spin around to quickly look at all the art hanging around the gallery. “Which one is yours?”

“Oh, I am NOT telling you that. I think I’ll leave it up to you to figure out which one is mine. You can play the role of Sherlock Holmes.”

“Now, that’s just cruel.”

“Cruel? Nah. Mysterious? Yes. Are you up for a little game of 5 questions to help you out? If you can guess which one is mine, then I guess you have bragging rights because I haven’t discussed my art with anyone here. If you don’t figure it out, then I suppose it will be a mystery forever.”

“Oh, I KNOW I’ll be able to figure this out!” Chris says loudly, clapping his hands together and popping each shoulder up and down. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Here’s the deal, you ask me whatever you need to to figure out which one is mine. Obviously, you can’t ask which one is mine as one of your questions. Ready?”

“Ready!” Chris said enthusiastically. He took your hand and brought you to the front of the room to observe the first of the paintings. “Let’s take a quick gander and then I’ll start. How does that sound to you?”

“Whatever you need to do, Evans.”

Chris pulled you from canvas to canvas, still holding your hand as he inspected each piece. “First question. “Did you only use paint for the one you donated?”

“NOPE, next question, Evans!”

“Okay, okay, I got this,” he bounced around on the spot and turned his head to quickly glance over the works close to him. “Shit, I guess I should have asked if what you donated was a painting, right?”

You walk a circle around Chris “Is that your question?” you ask, eyebrow raised.

His blue eyes flick quickly to yours before he says, “Ya, actually...ya. That’s what I want to know. Did you submit a painting?”

“Yes, one of my paintings is hanging somewhere in one of these giant rooms.”

“You really don’t think that I’m capable of figuring this out, do you? Ye of little Faith,” he smirked and pulled you to the back of the dark room. “Any reason why it’s so dark back here?”

“Maybe that’s what the artist wanted?”

“Here’s question three then,” he said as he pulled you closer to him, your eyes looking into his as he asked. “Is you painting in the dark room?”

“Is that really what you want to ask me?”

Chuckling, you take hold of his hand and lead him to another section of the gallery. “I don’t want you to miss any pieces, so take a look around here before you ask number three.” He squeezed your hand and looked up, the ceiling adorned with a beautiful piece; birds in flight but as they reached the furthest wall, the began to decay, until only single feathers remained.

“Here’s number three, ready?” He looked to his left where you were nodding your head back. “Did you mainly use your hands for this piece? I mean, instead of brushes or other tools.”

You were silent for a moment before answering, did you want to tell him how much of yourself you had put into this piece? That what the brushes couldn’t do, you did with your hands and arms? “I did. This one needed more than brushes.”

Chris smiled at you, “feel like telling me what else you used?”

“Not a chance,” you said, grabbing a glass of white wine from the tray passing by. “You want a glass?”

Chris held up his bottle, its content revealing that it was still half full. “I think I have a pretty good idea which one is yours, so these last two questions are going to be good.” With two large gulps, he finished up the rest of his beer. “So, what happens when I guess, do I get some sort of prize? Maybe you could paint me or something?”

“If you mean, could I dump a bucket of paint over your cocky head, then, sure!”

Chris burst out laughing, pulling you into him for a squeeze. “I love how you make me laugh and I bet you would actually do that to me. But really, if I do guess, what happens?”

You kept your body close to his, his arm still holding you close as you responded, “what do you think would be suitable prize, Chris? Do you want me to paint something, make you a prince? Maybe something of you and Dodger? Or maybe I could paint your like one of my French girls.”

“I would love one of your pieces, but if I win this, I’d like to take you out. Is that okay with you?”

Your grip tightened around the wine glass, trying not to let it slip to the floor. It was a shock, to hear that this man, one that you had flirted with for months, was asking if you wanted to go out with him.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry, I... I didn’t expect you to ask me that,” you answered, fidgeting with your hands out of awkwardness.

“It’s ok, you can say no! It’s all right to tell me no.”

“No. No. I’d love that. If you can guess which one is mine, I will gladly go out with you. Dinner, drinks, walk – whatever you like.”

Chris placed his empty beer on the table closest to you. “Ready for my last two questions?”

“As ready as one can be.”

“Is your piece hung on the wall as a landscape?”

“Look at you Evans, you got another one.”

Chris rubbed his hands together, his smile wide and full, clearly showing that he was on a winning streak. “Here’s number four and then I’ll go right to the painting I think, the painting I know it is. Chris walked back and forth in front of you before turning to face you with his last question. You had grabbed another glass of wine and took a sip, waiting for his winning question. “Does your piece use more than black and white? – so many of these photos, sculptures, paintings are very monotone.”

“You’re good Evans and yes, I filled my picture with the rainbow. So, take my hand and show me what the answer to this mystery is.”

His warm hand took your free one and he walked you to one of the side rooms – this room was full of colourful pieces. You could feel the heat flushing across your cheeks and a thin layer of sweat formed at your hairline. Chris stopped and turned towards the back wall and pointed to one of the paintings. “I’m pretty sure this one is yours,” he said with a half-smile. “Am I right?”

You had wished, during those few minutes he had suggested that he take you out, that he would guess which one is yours. But what were the chances with over 40 pieces around you? You tried to keep your body from slouching before you softly answered “No. That’s not mine.”

The happiness in his eyes left quickly once you responded.

“Are you going to tell me which one is yours though?” He asked you eagerly.

“No, I think I’m going to keep that secret to myself. Thanks for the fun, Evans, I should get home. Another day of charity work for me tomorrow.”

“Wait, Y/N, I’d still like to take you out though, will you let me do that, please?”

“I guess we’ll have to see what the future brings,” you replied, giving him a little wink and a squeeze to his hand, you took one last sip of your wine before heading to the coat check.

Chris watched you as you wrapped a scarf around your neck and slipped your arms into the long, wool coat. Walking back over to him and wrapping your arms around him, it was a quick hug and he barely had an arm around you before you were stepping back. With a smile on your face, you turned and stepped out into the night. Chris watched as you turned right and glanced his way, your hand lifting up and into a quick wave. He couldn’t stop smiling and knew he had to see you again.

It didn’t take long for that to happen. You couldn’t get him out of your thoughts and dreams after the encounter at the gallery. He really was something; funny, compassionate, a hard worker, and you couldn’t deny that he was incredibly good looking.

After an event in town and a few drinks later, it was easy as pie, asking him over for dinner. He had initially thought you were pulling his leg.

Chris couldn’t stop laughing. "Oh ya, sure you want me to come over for dinner," laughing at your request and taking a sip of his IPA.

The pink that had flushed across your cheeks when you had shyly asked him was disappearing like an ice cube in hot soup. He picked up on the change immediately and apologized profusely. "I didn't think you were serious! You are serious, right?”

"Why wouldn't I be? It's just dinner," you shrugged. “I don’t see why you would have such a dramatic response to a simple question.” There was an awkwardness now and maybe you shouldn’t have asked him to come over. “Sorry, I thought since we kind of hand a friendship blooming and I tend to invite friends over...”

He took hold of your arm and pulled you into his chest, a big smile across his face. “I'll come by; don’t you worry. Which day this week works for you? I'll be out of state after this week for a bit, so hopefully something the next few days will work for you,” he said, squeezing you a bit before he released his hold on you.

Trying not to be awkward, you responded "This week will definitely work, tomorrow or the next day are open for me."

"Let’s go for tomorrow, okay? Would you like me to bring anything?” Chris smiled

“Be sure to bring the dog, he's the one I'm really inviting.”

"Well, fat chance of me coming by now, I see where your allegiances lie, " he said half closing his eyes and glaring at you in a teasing manner.

"Ok then, just drop the dog off, I'm sure he'll enjoy the feast."

Chris couldn't help laugh at the way you were carrying on with this charade. The half-smile that was currently on your face was one full of mischief and it was something that he had come to enjoy the last few times he had run into you around town. He could see a sparkle in your eyes, something that he didn’t notice before today and it was something, that he could get used to.

“A thought crossed my mind... what exactly would have happened if I had guessed right?”

“Since that didn’t happen, I guess you’ll never know,” you said with a shrug and nudged him with your shoulder.

“You sure like to tease me.”

“What exactly am I teasing you over?”

“The opportunity to be in your presence again,�� he replied, a slight blush crossing his cheeks.

Finishing up your drink, you placed the glass back on the cardboard coaster and turned to face him.

“What the hell is THIS?” he asked grabbing at the green monster type thing that was hanging from a lamp in your living room

"That, is a flying frog - one of those weird ass dad gifts - he's always finding these peculiar creatures for me and I can't seem to part with them.

"It's sure ugly"

"You're ugly!” You shouted back at him and burst into the most beautiful smile he had seen cross your face.

"What are you, 12?

"Sometimes,” you replied.

Chris couldn’t help but laugh at you and pull you into a quick side hug. "You're a funny one" he feels you squeeze him back softly, a smile crossing his face at the quick interaction.

"I better go take a peek in the oven and make sure everything is baking the way it should. Make yourself cozy, I'll be right back." You looked back to him, pointing at the couches before turning and walking down the hallway to the kitchen. Turning you head back, forgetting to offer him a drink but his long strides had brought him right behind you quickly, almost colliding with your body. He tripped up a bit and moved his hand to your hip to catch himself.

"I want to see what you're up to in here, see what the chef is cooking up.” Chris resting his chin on your shoulder to peek at what you were stirring on the stove.

“You couldn’t sit still and wait for me to come back, did you miss me that much,” you teased.

“I couldn’t stand to be apart from you for a second longer.”

“That is the cheesiest lines, Evans. Does shit like that work for you?”

“What matters is, if it’s working on you. So, is it?”

You hummed, refusing to answer the question and carried on taking care of the food in the oven. Satisfied with how everything looked, you turned the timer back on and offered Chris a drink. Agreeing on wine, you pulled a bottle from the rack, passed the stemless glasses to Chris, grabbed his hand, and lead him back into the other room. Sitting on the larger of your two couches, Chris took a place beside you, taking the bottle from your hand, opening the bottle, and pouring you a generous glass before pouring his own.

“To friendship,” he said raising his glass

“To friendship, good food, and drinks,” you added and brought your glass to his, a quick clink, and sips were taken.

Dinner was ready within the hour and you both continued to chat while enjoying your meal.

“That was one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time, thank you”, complimented Chris as he wiped his mouth with the napkin when he had finished his last bite.

The compliment brought the feeling of heat to your face and out of awkwardness you almost knocked your glass over as you reached for the wine.

“Want a refill?” You asked, holding up the second bottle of red that night. “You have good taste in wine, Mr. Evans, this wine is top notch,” you said, looking over the label of the wine he had brought with him.

Chris smirked and slid the glass to his left “I’m glad you think so, I’ll definitely have another. This should probably be the last one though, I feel like I’m overstaying my welcome.” He watched as you poured, your hair falling forward as the wine glass filled. “Cheers, thank you for the invite and many thanks for a delicious meal. You are constantly surprising me with your talents.”

“You aren’t overstaying. I’m enjoying your company and don’t want you to leave yet. Here, let me show you what I’m working on for this year’s event,” you said and pulled your phone out of your dress pocket and slid your finger across the screen. Shifting your body across the cushions toward Chris, you held the phone out towards him.

“What is it you are putting on this year?”

“Another charity event, it’s to help out the single parents that live in the community. I try to donate as much time to charities as possible.”

“You have a heart of gold.”

“I want everyone to have a special holiday season, you do it. I see that you donate time and money to charities.”

“I have the means to help and giving back is extremely important to me.” Chris looked through a few more of the photos before placing the phone down next to him on the couch.

Reaching over to take her phone, Chris put his hand over yours and slid closer. “I know you always think I’m joking around with you when I say how much I love seeing you smile but I’m being 100% honest. Your smile is contagious and I feel like it lights up anywhere we are. It’s a beautiful smile and its part of why I’m so attracted to you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Oh shush, you!” you said pushing your hand into his chest, your smile wider than he had seen before. Again, he put his hand over yours and pulled you to him gently with his other hand. He brought you close, enough to hold you against him for a hug. He watched as your eyes tried to find a joke hidden in his face but you quickly realized that there was something else there. You weren’t sure who moved first as your lips met quickly enough that your teeth clacked together and you swore in pain.

“Oh fuck, only I would ruin an almost perfect moment. I’m such an-

He pulled you to his lips again, kissing you softly and trying not to laugh at the look on your face.

“Am I a joke to you, Evans?” you asked, kissing him back on the lips.

“Oh, not at all, I didn’t want to have to explain to people we know how I broke your teeth though. I mean, I could make up some ridiculous story about it, could be fun,” he chuckled.

You couldn’t help but throw your head back and laugh, bringing yourself back up to face Chris and pull him by his shirt towards you and kissing him without any stupid errors. You could taste the wine on him, the sweetness adding to the softness of your kiss. He took the lead, pulling you closer and slipping his tongue delicately across your bottom lip before deepening the kiss.

Your eyes opened when you hear Chris let out a soft moan, not expecting to hear such a sound from him before you could emit one. He did it again and you felt it all the way down your spine and into your soul. Your hands, still in idiot mode, found their way to his hair, and were quickly taking apart his well-coiffed hair by running your hands through it.

“How does your hair smell so damn incredible?

“How do you taste so fucking delicious?

You pulled back, staring him in the eyes “Hmm, maybe you need to taste a bit more, clean that palate of yours,” you teased.

“Are you implying...”

“Not implying, the buffet is open, sir. Dig in.”

Chris’s face went a light shade of red.

“Oh, did I catch you off guard, Casanova?”

“I mean, no... no...’ he stumbled, “OK, fine yes, yes you did.”

“Well, now that you know, let’s get back to business. All right?”

You took control, standing up, taking his hand roughly and leading him to your bedroom.

“I want you to take off my clothing, piece by piece. I want to see it on the floor and,” you said placing her finger on his lips, “no more talking,” you ordered.

“Anything you want,” he whispered into your ear and he ran his tongue down your neck so softly, that goosebumps raised over yours arms. His hands wandered from your shoulders and down your arms, taking hold of your hands and moving them to his belt buckle.

Looking up to him, he nodded, silently urging you. Undoing the belt and still staring into his eyes. Moving to unzip his jeans and push the button away, Chris was unzipping the back of your dress, the cool line of metal touching your back as he drew the zipper down the length of your back.

“You have goosebumps, do I need to warm you up?

“I’m hoping you get to that. Now, what did I say about talking?”

He smirked, pushing the dress down each shoulder until it dropped to the floor. Stepping out of it, you kicked it off with one foot, tossing it towards the wall. Chris’s hands were already roaming, his hands on your hips, fingers sliding into the thin elastic of your panties. His hands slipped across your warm flesh and directly to your cheeks, grabbing each one and squeezing, and pulling you closer to him. His lips were pressed into yours, his tongue back to searching for yours as he wrapped his arms around you and brought you to your bed. Gently, he sat you on the edge and leaned into you bringing you down to the mattress.

His kisses ran down your sternum and across the soft skin of your breasts while his hands ran across the tops, gently running his fingers over your nipples.

“Keep doing that, keep... keep touching my breasts, Chris.”

You could feel him pressing into you, his erection, warm and pushing against your core.

His hands squeezed your left breast while he brought his mouth down to your right, taking the nipple into his mouth, gently sucking it. Running his tongue around the bud, a chill running across your arms and a moan escaping your lips.

“I need to be in you now, please, y/n,” he said, kissing up your chest.

“In the drawer, condoms are there and hurry the hell up, Evans, I’ve waited forever for it to rain and fill up the well.”

He chuckled as he crawled over you, limbs knocking yours, a soft hand slapped across his ass, as you watched him open the nightstand drawer, which got stuck in his effort to hurry. “Come on Evans, you got this,”

“A little self-talk over there to get you motivated?”

Chris smiled as he held up the package and smiled at you before sitting on the edge of the bed to roll the condom down his hard length. He was on you again, returning quickly, his lips pressing against yours. His lips, wet and warm, pushed harder against your mouth as he pushed your legs further apart, taking himself in his hand, rubbing across your wetness and pushing halfway. The groan that escaped his mouth while his tongue continued to touch yours, sent a tingling sensation down your body.

“Chris, please...” you started to plead and before you could continue, he finished pressing himself into you with a grunt.

“Come on baby, show me how well you can move,” he said as he licked a strip across your neck.

Wrapping your arms around his neck and shifting your body against his, you let out a wail. Your bodies moved together, the pace quick, the sounds of your wetness echoing throughout your room.

“Listen to the sounds we’re making, baby,” Chris panted and drove deeper into you. His body was incredibly warm against yours, the sweat making his chest glisten in what light crept in from the hallway.

Chris slipped his hand down and his fingers met your warmth, crawling in to press against your clit. You clenched around him; a low moan escaped his mouth as he continued his movements.

“A bit more, a bit more,” you groaned, your back arching as Chris sped up. You looked up at him and reached your hand up to his face, holding on and staring into his blue eyes as you felt the tingling ball up within.

Faster than expected and with one last swipe of his fingers, your orgasm spread out from within. Your shoulders tingled, spreading down to your fingers as you yelped out, the warmth of pleasure flowing down and across your body. Chris had shifted to move into you, helping your orgasm along as his own shuddering began. His lips were pressed into your neck, your name crossing his lips as he slowed his pace, and leaned onto one of his arms. He continued kissing up your neck and met your lips, heavy breaths escaping from both of your mouths.

“You’re incredible Y/N. Incredible.” One more kiss was pressed to your lips before Chris sat up, heading to the bathroom. You watched the light turn on and the door close behind him. You rolled to your side; a smile of satisfaction crossed your face as you closed your eyes.

Your heart jumped when you were woken by blankets being pulled half off of your naked body. It took you a few seconds to realize that a man, a very handsome man, was sleepy peacefully beside you. Turning to face his back and shimmying closer, you pulled the blanket to cover your shoulders and back. His muscular back stared at you and you couldn’t help but raise your hand to the pale skin, bringing your fingertip to his warm skin and drawing lines to connect each freckle.

“You, know, that feels incredible, please don’t stop,” Chris asked, his words muffled into the pillows.

You continued using his back as your canvas; swans, sunrises, all the beautiful pieces of the world this man helped you see.

Pushing back into you Chris spoke, “I’m going to be away next week, so I’m hoping I can see you again before I head out of town?”

Your fingers drew the word yes on his shoulder in response. Chris turned over to face you, pulling you closer to him for a soft kiss. When he pulled back you couldn’t help but smile and pulled him in for something a bit more passionate.

Bags packed and his dog set to stay with his family, he walked by the room Scott was in. “Hey, I’m heading out, the car is almost here. Give me a hug for the road.” His younger brother stood up and embraced him, giving him a few pats on the back and wishing him well for his short trip. “Will I see you when I get back or you heading back home?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be around still. Mom wants me to stay in town a bit longer. You okay if I’m still free loading off of you a bit longer than planned?”

“You know you’re more than welcome to stay,” he said as his phone chimed from his pocket. “Cars here. Take care of the fam and Dodger for me.” His brother gave him a smile and Chris grabbed his coat and carry-on from the table before heading to the front of the house. Dammit, he had forgotten to remind Scott again about what they had discussed earlier that day. “Scott, make sure you get that message to Y/N, okay? This schedule change was pretty last minute.” He shut the door before he heard a response from his brother. The driver held the door open for him and collected his bags to place in the trunk. He couldn’t get you out of his mind on the way to the airport; your smile, the scent of your hair, the warmth of your naked skin pressed against his. He couldn’t wait to be next to you again.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans rpf #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #writing challenge #ssholidaychallenge #redwrites

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slipping-through-my-fingertips · 4 years ago

Text

mirrorball

Summary: in every life, that they’ve ever lived, they’ve chosen to come back, and find each other, and fall in love with each other over and over again

Notes: As promised, another part of my folklore series. Enjoy!!

AO3

As much as Kurt loved going to the theater or eating dinner in dimly-lit restaurants around the city, his favorite dates were the ones spent at home.

When he and Blaine danced around each other in the kitchen trying out a new recipe for dinner. When there’s cheesecake cooling in the fridge. With music flooding their ears.

As they set the table, Kurt brings his arms around Blaine and pulls their bodies together. Their fronts pressed together and noses touching.

“I’m so in love with you,” he tells him.

The oven beeps so Kurt quickly moves away to get their dinner before it burns.

I want you to know

I'm a mirrorball

I'll show you every version of yourself tonight

I'll get you out on the floor

Shimmering beautiful

And when I break it's in a million pieces

Later, when the dishes are on the drying rack and the pots and pans are soaking in the sink, Kurt and Blaine are curled up together on the couch. The playlist from earlier is starting over, the sun has set and the apartment grows darker.

Blaine sits up to lit a candle but snuggles right back under the blanket with his boyfriend.

“I love you too, you know?”

Kurt kisses the top of his head.

“What if we hadn’t met?”

“If you didn’t come to Dalton?” Blaine asks.

Kurt nods.

“I’d find you,” Blaine says, “I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from being pulled towards you.”

“You really believe that?”

Blaine just kisses him.

Hush

When no one is around, my dear

You'll find me on my tallest tiptoes

Spinning in my highest heels, love

Shining just for you

For the next week, Kurt comes up with plenty of scenarios for a different life for them. Each time, Blaine has their perfect meeting to go along with it.

They’re getting ready together that morning. Standing in their small bathroom. Blaine applying gel and Kurt brushing his teeth.

“If I were a Prince...” he mumbles around the toothbrush.

“And I, a commoner living in a stone house outside the castle,” Blaine continued, “you’d come into town and bump into me while buying fabric. Our eyes met and boom: love at first sight.”

Kurt rolled his eyes and rinsed his mouth. “Or maybe you sneak into a ball where I am supposed to find my future husband. We dance together and I just know it’s you. It’s always you.”

Blaine had cupped his face and kissed him.

“Minty,” he said with a laugh.

Hush

I know they said the end is near

But I'm still on my tallest tiptoes

Spinning in my highest heels, love

Shining just for you

I want you to know

I'm a mirrorball

This back and forth became a game of “What if…” with Kurt normally asking the questions and Blaine being quick to answer.

“Okay, but what if…we didn’t live in Ohio. If I grew up here and you came from LA.”

“I’m not a Hollywood guy, Kurt, my acting would still take me to Broadway.”

“Maybe your career would take you to the West End in London.”

Blaine side-eyed Kurt for a moment. “Out of the two of us, I think you’re way more likely to go to the West End than me.”

Kurt chuckled. “You’re right.”

“And how come in all these situations, I have to come to you. How about you come to me?”

“Okay, you start then.”

Blaine takes in a breath and decides on his scenario.

I can change everything about me to fit in

You are not like the regulars

The masquerade revelers

Drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten

At eighteen, Blaine Anderson was expected to be married. Soon, his older brother Prince Cooper would take the throne, and until he and his wife produced an heir Blaine would be second-in-line for the crown.

The only problem with getting married was the lack of unmarried gay princes. As far as Blaine knew, he was the only one. Prince Sebastian had tried to court Blaine years ago but ultimately married Prince Hunter of the Southern Kingdom. Princes Nick and Jeff had been betrothed since birth in order to unite their respective kingdoms.

Due to this issue, his father was hosting a ball. All major and minor kingdoms were invited, especially those farthest away. Even ones that they normally did not interact with because Blaine was in desperate need of a husband.

Blaine’s only request for this ball was that it be a masquerade. His father, of course, thought this to be a bad idea but Blaine insisted. There was much less pressure on his shoulders if those he danced with and spoke to weren’t sure if he was the prince or not.

Hush

When no one is around, my dear

You'll find me on my tallest tiptoes

Spinning in my highest heels, love

Shining just for you

Kurt’s voice broke the fantasy. “So, in this situation, am I also a prince? Just from a far away kingdom?”

“If you’d let me finish,” Blaine said, “you’d know that information.”

His boyfriend lightly slaps his shoulder. “Don’t be mean.”

“Be patient,” Blaine countered.

“How about this instead?” Kurt inched closer to him on the couch. “We dance together at the ball and I pull you out of the ballroom, charm you, and we kiss just outside the party pressed together in the dark hallway.”

“Then what?” Blaine asked, their lips brushing together.

“We live happily ever after, of course,” Kurt told him before pressing their mouths together.

Hush

I know they said the end is near

But I'm still on my tallest tiptoes

Spinning in my highest heels, love

Shining just for you

When they wake up from their unprompted nap, the sun is just starting to set. Golden hour tanning Kurt’s pale skin and highlighting his messy hair.

Blaine only gets a few moments to stare at his boyfriend. Watching his breathing, the small twitches his body makes, and his unconsciousness making him move closer to Blaine. Then, he stirred and lazily opened his eyes.

“Hey you,” Blaine said.

Kurt hummed but even in his sleepy state, he gave Blaine a toothy smile.

“We should make dinner.”

In reply, Kurt snuggled closer to Blaine.

“Or we could order take-out.”

Blaine felt Kurt nod.

“Okay. Thai?”

Kurt shook his head.

“No Thai. Italian? I could go for some fettuccine alfredo.”

Another no.

“Alright, what do you want?”

“Greasy fries and a burger.”

Blaine abruptly moved away to stare down at Kurt, who groaned clearly unhappy that his space heater was gone. Kurt made grabby hands for Blaine to come back. Unable to resist him or cuddling, Blaine readjusted himself next to Kurt.

“Seriously, you want a burger?” Blaine asked.

“Yes please.”

With a short laugh, Blaine grabbed his phone from the nightstand and put in an order for delivery for burgers and fries.

“Milkshakes?” he questioned.

“Strawberry.”

And two strawberry shakes.

And they called off the circus

Burned the disco down

When they sent home the horses

And the rodeo clowns

As they unwrapped their burgers, Blaine started another scenario.

“Alright, this time I’m a famous sports player.”

Immediately, Kurt cut him off. “What sport?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Blaine told him. “And you’re dragged to a game with your dad or Finn or someone.”

“It matters to me.” Kurt sipped his shake. “If I’m to form a successful happy ending, I need all the information, Blaine. You know I’m a detail guy.”

Blaine bites his tongue. As usual, Kurt’s stubbornness was shining through. Except this time, he was clearly joking if his smirk had anything to say about it.

“Football.”

“You better get taller and put on some muscle mass first. You’ll get pummeled.”

"Says the formed McKinley High kicker."

"And I would've been pummeled otherwise," Kurt tells him.

“Fine, not football. Um, how about hockey?”

“You are an excellent skater.”

“Thank you.” Blaine beamed. “Anyway, I’m a jock and you’re a non-fan.”

“Professional jock,” Kurt corrected.

“Eat your burger and listen.”

I'm still on that tightrope

I'm still trying everything to get you laughing at me

I'm still a believer but I don't know why

I've never been a natural

All I do is try, try, try

I'm still on that trapeze

I'm still trying everything

To keep you looking at me

Kurt couldn’t believe he was letting his dad and Finn drag him to a hockey game. It’s freezing even if they’re not right up against the glass. Despite hot chocolate in his hands, Kurt’s shivering.

“Tickets came with money on them. Go buy a sweatshirt,” Burt says.

“You can take my coat,” Finn offers. “I want to show off my jersey anyway.”

Kurt takes Finn’s coat but instantly hands it back because it’s way too long and he can’t sit comfortably with it on.

“I’m going to the gift shop.”

“Be back soon if you don’t wanna miss the puck drop,” Burt tells him.

It’s hard to get lost in a hockey stadium because it’s just a circle so long as Kurt has his ticket he can get back to the seats. He finds the gift shop to be mostly empty despite the insane amount of people here for the game.

He remembers the patriotic colors his dad and Finn were wearing and tried to find the least offensive sweatshirt that supports the Ohio team.

“You don’t have to get Blue Jackets just cause you’re from Ohio,” a voice tells him.

“I rather not get booed at,” Kurt replies, resisting the urge to say the booing would be by his own family.

“Fair enough.” The man shrugs. “I’m partial to the black and silver of the Kings.”

Kurt looks at the sweatshirt in question. It’s much less...loud than the Blue Jackets.

“Isn’t that the opposing team?”

He smirks. It’s then that Kurt really gets a good look at the man. He’s not wearing either team’s colors. No nametag or uniform either. So, he probably doesn’t work for the stadium.

“Who are you exactly?”

“Blaine Anderson.”

Kurt shakes his hand. “Kurt Hummel.”

“Nice to meet you, Kurt.”

“You too but that didn’t answer my question, who are you? You don’t work here and you don’t seem overly invested in the game since you couldn’t be bothered to wear either of their jerseys.”

“Let’s just say, you’ll see me on the ice.”

Then, Blaine handed Kurt a piece of paper with his number on it and walked off.

Because I'm a mirrorball

I'm a mirrorball

I'll show you every version of yourself

Tonight

By the time Blaine has finished his alternative meeting, Kurt has dragged him away from the kitchen into the living room. He moved their coffee table out of the way and pushed the sofas back.

“So, I find out you’re a hockey player after the game,” Kurt said, “I text you on the way home asking if you were distracted because your team lost.”

“And I say, I couldn’t keep my eyes on the puck because I was searching for you in the stands.”

“Cheesy.”

Blaine smiled.

Kurt extended his right hand, “may I have this dance?”

“There’s no music,” Blaine answered but placed his hand into Kurt’s regardless.

Kurt pulled their bodies close so Blaine could rest his head against Kurt’s shoulder. Tucked together swaying in their living room.

“You’re all the music I need.”

#klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #klaine #my fics #folklore series

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hallowed-be-thy-username · 4 years ago

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Clothing Is Custom, No Labels: Part One

“No matches on prints, DNA, dental. Clothing is custom, no labels. Nothing in his pockets but knives and lint. No name, no other alias.”

Summary: You’re one of the last bespoke tailors in town, making suits and custom clothing for Gotham’s elite. Business men and women, well known lawyers, the Wayne family, and... the Joker?

Genre: Self-insert

Pairing: Ledger!Joker x fem reader

Warnings: Some cursing

Word count: 1,667

Authors Note: Here comes part one! I recommend reading the Introduction first if you haven’t 💜

Inspirational Music: Beat the Devil’s Tattoo by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

- Part One -

Sleep did not come easily to you last night. You tossed and turned, worry about this cryptic meeting flooding your dreams and stirring you awake throughout the night. The lack of good sleep left you feeling hazy and distracted. So hazy that you didn’t see the uneven patch of sidewalk beneath your feet. Your hands shot out in front of you to catch yourself, the rough pavement scraping your palms.

You huffed as you stood up and brushed off your sore hands on your pants. Fucking sidewalk. You pass that patch of sidewalk every day and every day, you walk around it. But not today. Today has decided to be different.

Your keys jingled as you unlocked the back door to the shop, yawning with coffee in hand. It was going to be rough, staying here late tonight. After you opened the front curtains and switched on the lights, you reached behind the desk to turn the news on in the background while you readied the shop to open.

“Several Gotham city banks have been robbed within the last week. This string of robberies has left many dead on the scene at each location, all of whom are assumed to be accomplices, as reported by eye witnesses. If that wasn’t strange enough, all of them have been wearing clown masks,” you heard the GCN anchor say from your little tv.

What did he just say? You left the mannequin you were preparing to dress in the window and took long strides back to the desk.

“It is estimated that over sixty million dollars has been stolen thus far. Police have had few leads as their investigation continues but one man appears to be the driving force behind the robberies. Gotham PD has released this photo, captured by security cameras at Gotham National Bank just yesterday,” the anchor continued before an image flashed on the screen.

Your eyes widened and your breath hitched in your throat at the sight of a man in ghostly white makeup with black around his eyes, a blood red smile over his lips and two jagged scars curling up from both corners of his mouth, staring straight at the camera.

“Nothing else is known about this man other than that he goes by the alias, ‘the Joker’, leaving a Joker playing card behind at many of the crime scenes. If you have any information on the man pictured, please contact the anonymous tip line listed at the bottom of your screen.”

You switched the tv off, a shiver running down your spine. That image was burned into your eyes, as clear as it was on the screen moments ago. You blinked a few times but it was still there, staring at you. The Joker. Those eyes just gazed straight through the screen and locked with yours. It was unsettling but you couldn’t help but feel something else. Overwhelming curiosity. Who was this guy? Why did he paint his face? Where did he even come from? This was the first you’d heard of him. Not to mention those scars. Flesh viciously sliced apart, torn clean through, leaving behind a macabre permanent smile. A strange feeling tugged at your stomach as you thought about the pain he must have felt. They were so… terrifying.

The sound of the door opening jolted you out of your trance as you jumped and whipped around to face the door.

“Oh, sorry about that. Didn’t mean to scare you. Where do you want me to leave these?”

A delivery guy stood just inside the doorway with a handcart stacked with boxes. You shook your head and answered with an embarrassed smile, “It’s ok, I guess I’m a little jumpy today. You can leave them anywhere back there, thanks.”

You pointed toward the back room and he nodded on his way to drop them off. Shit, maybe you shouldn’t drink that coffee.

The afternoon crawled by at a frustratingly sluggish pace. The ticking of time made you impatient for the day to be done but simultaneously anxious about the very same idea. A particularly needy woman with perfume that burned your nose picked up an altered dress and a man looking to get his pants hemmed to fit his unfortunately short stature took up some of your time but it was still an hour before closing time. Your stomach fluttered for a second. Tonight it wasn’t really closing time. You decided to preoccupy yourself with a book you’d meaning to read, sitting down and leaning back in your chair, getting comfortable at the desk. Maybe you’d run out to grab a bite to eat soon.

Your eyelids flew open as you suddenly awoke with a start. The shop was dark. You scrambled from your chair to find the clock, grabbing it from the counter and turning it around. 9:40 pm.

Your heart started pounding in your chest, the meeting with your new mystery client was dangerously close. You cursed under your breath and rushed to close the front curtains, hoping to avoid anyone else trying to come in. It was a miracle you weren’t robbed in the first place.

Reality rushed over you and your hands started to shake with unease. Why were you so nervous? Well, this has never happened to you before. Men bringing you that much money ahead of time, in cash no less. Asking, no, telling you to stay open late for them. It was just weird. Weird in a way that made the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up. And now it was here.

A few deep breaths did something to calm your nerves a bit, at least until the hands on the clock reached 9:58.

Headlights illuminated the maroon velvet curtains over the windows, sending your heart rate soaring once again. He’s here.

Suddenly, an urge to hide made your legs twitch as you stood in front of the desk but you resisted it, fighting to keep yourself from running to the back room. Your heart continued to pound and was joined by a shudder down your spine as you caught sight of two silhouettes, figures cast in shadow over the curtains that were moving toward the door.

You held your breath when the door opened. It was the bald man from yesterday. He made eye contact with you and blinked. You tensed up, waiting for him to say something, but instead he let go of the door to disappear back outside.

What?

Before you could react, the door opened again and a different man stepped into the shop.

You halted in place, staring at him. His hair was stringy and tinted green. His face. His face was covered with a layer of white paint, black smeared around his eyes, that devilish red smile that had been floating around in the back of your mind all day. It was him.

You couldn’t move. You willed your body to do something, anything other than stare at the man with the Glasgow smile in front of you. But that’s all you could do. Blood rushed in your ears as you stood there, trapped in your own body, for what felt like far too long.

He took a few steps toward you, thawing your muscles instantly for you to back up and bump into the desk, your eyes still on him.

“What’s the matter, hm? You look nervous. Is it the scars?” he spoke as he gestured toward his face.

His voice was peculiar. Somewhat high and nasally but deep and gravelly at the same time.

Your mouth opened to speak before you had any words in mind to say. “Uh, um. N-no. I, um, I just recognized you from the, the news,” you sputtered, trying not to visibly tremble.

His eyebrows shot up and he grinned as he replied, “Ahhh, little old me? Well I’m, uh, flatter-ed.”

The only thing you could do was nod as you continued to gaze wide-eyed at him, your hands gripping the edge of the desk behind you like a vice. The way he pronounced words was hypnotizing. They were spoken so deliberately, so carefully chosen.

“Well, as much as I’d love to continue with this, uh, ban-ter of ours, I believe you can make me a suit, yes?” he continued.

You suddenly stiffened to attention after his statement registered in your mind, your already hammering heart flipping uncomfortably in your chest.

“Oh, um, yes. Y-yes I can,” you managed to stutter.

He clapped his hands together, making you jump slightly. “Fan-tastic! Shall we?” he said enthusiastically, extending his arm out toward the mirrored area of the shop.

He waited a moment for you to move, only to watch you continue to stare like an antelope caught in a lion’s gaze before flicking his tongue out over his scarred lip and sauntering over on his own.

Deep breaths. You took deep breaths, so quickly that they were making you nauseous. You had to try to relax. What if you made him angry? He’s killed people. What would he do if you messed up? It’s too late to back out. You swallowed hard against the lump growing in your throat. You can do this, you can do this, you can do this…

He started thumbing through the books of fabric swatches on the nearby table, scrutinizing each with his eyes and occasionally raising an eyebrow as you slowly approached with pins and needles buzzing in your hands. He suddenly flicked one of the books shut and raised his eyes to meet yours once again, making you stop in your tracks and hold back a gasp.

“Now, what do I call you, doll?” he asked, his dark eyes fixed on yours.

Your words tumbled out, responding all on their own, “Y/N.”

His gaze had captured you again and this time it was drawing you in. The room around you seemed to dissolve and all you could focus on were his spellbinding eyes.

“Y/N, call me Joker,” he purred.

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

@amethystmoonprincess @call-me-harley-quinn @paev 💜

#joker fanfiction #ledger!joker #ledger!joker x reader #joker x reader #joker x you #fanfiction #self-insert #heath ledger joker #the dark knight #tdk joker

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elusive---ivory · 4 years ago

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Creepypasta Rewrite - Jeffrey Alexander King (Jeff The Killer)

Warning: Alcoholism, Intrusive Thoughts, Mental Illness, Physical Abuse, Violence, Blood, Fire, Snow, Death.

There's a more heavy stuff in this so I do advise anyone who's extremely sensitive, please don't consider reading this because of the material in it.

This takes inspiration from the original Jeff the Killer story, but don't worry that's not all you'll see of Jeff King

February 9th 1996

Jeff was born to James and Mae King on February 14th 1984. Valentine's day, how ironic. Growing up, his family seemed perfect on the outside, however they were completely dysfunctional.

Jeff's dad was always out working late, and when he did come home, he smelled like heavy perfume and alcohol.

He was the middle child. Between his older brother, Lou, and his younger sister, Nina, his mother had to work extra to feed three mouths. His mother was the only person in his life who he truly admired.

She was always kind to him and his siblings. He hated seeing her in pain. One night, he saw her bawling in his parent's shared bedroom. He walked in, resting his head on her lap.

That was always so comforting to him. She'd run her fingers through his hair.

As a kid, Jeff was super quiet. He didn't like lashing out at people, because of how much he saw his dad lash out at his mom.

He was always close with his siblings. Nina and Louis. Nina was Jeff's adopted sister. Lou, as the older brother, was always there to take care of them.

He was very close to his mother. His

That was... until Jeff's mother died when he was 12. Two weeks before his birthday... Jeff saw his father kill his mother in their very own bedroom.

June 6th 1998

Jeff and his family were living from trailer home to trailer home. Once summer started, his dad decided it was a good idea to sell everything and go on a road trip all across the country.

They were living from motel to motel. Nina would be always afraid of the beds and would rather sleep in the car.

Ever since the death of their mother, Jeff's father became a lot more crueler.

Their dad began to prey a lot more on Nina. The only reason Lou stuck around, because he felt it was his responsibility to take care of his family.

However, Jeff was beginning to become a burden to him.

That fall, they finally moved into a trailer home up in a small town in Montana.

March 19th 1999

It was a very small community. The school was small so word got around with Jeff being the new student.

Jeff continued to stay near his sister throughout the week. He was the only one who stood up for her.

The local gang of delinquent kids saw the potential in the corruption of Jeff.

Randy, Keith, and Trent were the main big bullies at Jeff's highschool. Randy was a lot like Jeff, only Randy found his outlet in violence.

Randy became friends with Jeff, but they would force him to do awful things. They were more bullies than friends.

The snow on the ground was still fresh in the middle of March. For more than a year, Jeff had been tormented by this so called friends. Randy asked Jeff for help on a heist.

There apparently was this kid having a birthday party just down the street. Apparently the kid's parents was loaded with cash. So surely there had to be a ton of expensive stuff inside.

Randy hinted on Jeff getting all the good stuff. Of course, Jeff declined.

As poor as he was, he want to steal from a family he barely knew. Besides, Lou was bringing in a bonus next week, so money wasn't his problem.

However, Lou had been saving up behind their father's back to finally get away from their dysfunctional family. He decided it was in his best interest. He was definitely second guessing himself. Lou didn't want to leave Jeff and Nina alone.

But, Lou didn't have a choice.. he took the car one night and drove off.

Jeff didn't see Lou for an extended period.

That night he decided to go with Randy's plan.

He snuck into the front door, while Trent and Keith distracted the kids at the birthday party. They were posing as the entertainers, dressed up as party clowns.

The kid's weren't amused, of course.

Jeff and Randy made a beline for the parents bedroom. They started snatching up the jewelry, then messed around in the closet.

Jeff began to have his doubts. Randy mocked him, telling him he wasn't worth getting all the valuables.

As Randy pushed him to the ground, Jeff's face was planted on the oak wood floor. He grabbed a handful of Jeff's black hair, punching him in the face over and over.

Jeff felt numb. He was completely abandoned by those who loved him the most. All he was left with was his drunken father and his kid sister. He couldn't handle the loss of his mother, and now that Lou left. He couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed Randy by the hooded collar flipping him over.

The tussle was heard from upstairs as the two boys came tumbling down the steps. In the fight, they had knocked over a set of candles. Jeff was in such a violent rage. His vision began to shift as everything began to get blurry.

The next thing he knew was the horrified faces of the parents as the witnessed Jeff strangling Randy violently. He let go of Randy's neck. He must've snapped Randy's neck. He wasn't breathing.

Candles had set the entire upstairs part of the house on fire. Smoke flooded Jeff's eyes as kids began screaming and running out of the house.

Jeff seemed still in shock by Randy's dead body as a large piece of the floor trapped him between the body and the door. He tried to wiggle out of the flames grip, until he was grabbed by a horrific version on Randy. Jeff ended up getting hit in the face with a large piece of charred wood. He tackle Randy's spirit, stabbing it with a heated kitchen knife that had laid there on the floor.

The back door was Jeff's only exit. He limped faster and faster as the house caved in on its self. He face planted into the snow. Letting its icy touch sting his burned skin as the sound of paramedics came rushing in.

3 days later

Jeff woke up in the hospital with bandages over his hand and part of his face. He felt a slight nauseous feeling wash over him. The only person who visited him was Nina. Jeff appreciated her kindness, but he could not forget what he did.

For years, people walked all over him. For some reason.. he found a certain joy out of it. Dear God, he knew it was wrong, but what other choices did he have.

Jeff smiled. He didn't understand why. He was so sad. Everyone had left him..

1 week later

Finally, he was let out of the hospital. Even though, they had to ride back home on the bus. He felt so empty, yet he kept smiling. Tears came through his smile as he sobbed into Nina's shoulder.

She didn't understand Jeff, but she left him.

When they eventually got home, their father was still on the couch sleeping.

Jeff and Nina passed him by as Nina slipped into her nightgown. Jeff walked into the bathroom. He looked awful. His right eye turned blind, and his skin felt rough and scalely. He just wanted to be happy.

How could he let himself do such a horrible thing? He was stuck in such a loop. He slammed his head into the mirror.

"What are you doing, boy?" slurred his father. He slowly stumbled to the bathroom door.

With a piece of glass, Jeffery Alexander King gave himself a carved smile. He began to cry as his father began to roar. He stabbed him in the eye with the piece of glass.

Nina tried to slip through the hallway, but she was horrified by the face of Jeff as their father laid there in a pool of blood.

"Go back to sleep, Nina... it's just a really bad dream." Those were the last words Jeff said to Nina, as he walked out the door. His bloody footprints faded into the snow as he walked into the deep woods.

#creepypasta #jeffery alexander king #alex!jeff #creepypasta au #creepypasta oc #creepypasta rewrite #<== blacklist

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stxn-the-mxn · 5 years ago

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Distant || Richie Tozier X Daughter!Reader

Request: could you write a fanfic about a losers club member x daughter ( doesn't matter which one) where pennywise turns the reader against her dad and like it works because the reader gets mad and shuts her parent out. And then she almost gets killed by pennywise but her parent saves her? thank you so much in advance! I loved your Richie x daughter imagine! - anon

***

Derry, Maine was fucking boring.

It had only taken you a couple of hours to realise this. You’d wandered around this entire town, and yet nothing had caught your eyes. How your father managed to grow up here was beyond you.

You were barely surviving the day when he’d survived years.

You swung on the hammock in the Losers clubhouse. It was extremely quiet, and you couldn’t lie that it was sort of creepy. Some of the wooden supports creaked and something told you that maybe it wasn’t safe to be there.

But Ben had said that it was safe. And you were sure that Ben could be trusted. He didn’t seem like the type to lie to a kid. Especially the kid of one of his closest friends. It had to be strong enough for you to push against it, right?

And so you did, trying to get the hammock to swing at the pace you wanted. You kicked the wooden pole harder than expected, feeling it shift. You froze as the pole came crashing to the ground. The next pole creaked, before also collapsing.

You gasped, throwing yourself out of the hammock. You watched in horror as the wooden steps came tumbling to the ground. The walls were caving in, dirt filling the clubhouse. As you coughed the dirt out of your lungs, you heard footsteps above.

“Dad? Anyone?” Your voice was shaky with fear, as everything collapsed around you. The dirt was now up to your waist, but it was rising quickly.

“Y/N?” It wasn’t a familiar voice calling your name, but any reassurance that someone was nearby was enough.

“Yes! I’m down here, and I’m trapped!”

The footstep grew louder, and a gloved hand reached down for you to grab. There was no time to see who the hand belonged to, as the dirt was up to your neck now. You felt yourself being pulled out of the dirt and placed on the ground.

“Thank you so m-” As you wiped the dirt from your eyes, you looked up to see a strange-looking clown, gripping a red balloon. You scrambled backwards, as the clown looked down sadly.

“You were all alone.” The clown’s voice was quite high and childlike, making you anxious.

“No one was around to save you. Your dad wasn’t here to save you.” You snapped your head up to look at the clown. Your father was a touchy subject.

“He wasn’t around to help you. But I’m sure you’re used to your dad being away.”

How did the clown know that? Your fathers distance from you was an unspoken thing, whether it was emotional or physical. It’s not that he didn’t love you - well maybe he didn’t, you didn’t know - it’s just that he wasn’t around much.

Whether it was because he was out on tour or he just didn’t want to see you, he was never there. That didn’t stop you from loving him. He was your dad, after all.

“He doesn’t care about you, but I’m sure you know that.”

“N-no, he cares about me. He just gets b-busy sometimes.”

The clown let out a creepy, squeaky laugh, which sent shivers down your spine. You had to get out of there.

“I’m sorry, this has been a great chat, truly, but I need to go home…” You found yourself trailing off, the clown’s words burning into your mind.

“And where is home? Y/N? Certainly not with your father. That was never your home. Your home is the circus.” The clown handed you the balloon, and you took it with shaking hands.

You turned, running away from the clown. As you left the barrens, the balloon popped, almost making you scream, but definitely making you jump. You regained your composure, running to the motel, the words “alone” and “doesn’t care” circling through your mind.

You shoved the door open, finding the six losers in the foyer, your dad pacing up and down the hall. All six of them looked up, and their faces melted into relief.

“Y/N, I called you so many times. Why didn’t you pick up?”

Patting your pocket, you discovered your phone wasn’t there. It must’ve fallen out during the clubhouse fiasco. You mentally cursed yourself. All the losers stared expectantly, clearly not paying you enough attention to figure out what had happened.

“I was so worr-”

“No, you fucking weren’t.” You said, harshly shoving past them all and running upstairs. The six adults stared at you, before looking at each other shocked.

You locked the motel room door behind you, but you could hear everyone talking downstairs.

“She’s just being a teen, Rich.” Beverly’s voice floated upstairs, making you scoff.

“She’s not usually like that… I’ve never seen her like that.”

You had been a fool, spending years trying to win over your dad. His job, drinking and other reckless activities had always taken first priority. You were just the leftovers of a drunk mistake.

Did you even hold any importance in your dad’s mind?

That fucking clown had been right.

You shoved all your clothes back into your suitcase, working quickly as you heard people coming up the stairs. You flung Richie’s bag open, finding his wallet. He wouldn’t notice $400 missing. He wouldn’t notice you missing.

The knock at the door made you tense up.

“Y/N, honey, please open the door.”

It wasn’t Richie, at least.

“Please, leave me alone right now.”

You faked a sad tone, adding a sniffle for extra effect. It was effective enough, as you heard Beverly walking away from the door.

You zipped the bag slowly, trying not to make noise. Luckily, the window was already open, and there was a balcony not too far below. You knew how to sneak out, having done it anytime Richie threw a party.

With only a minor stumble, you made it out, sneaking around the building without being spotted, thank god. You headed into town, hoping to grab some food before leaving Derry. You didn’t have a plan or a destination, but anywhere was better than L.A with Richie.

Walking onto the main road, you were surprised to find everything closed. Everything had been open just earlier today. Maybe Derry just had weird closing hours? Groaning, you realised you’d have to wait to get food after you left.

“There’s always food at the circus.”

“Fancy meeting you again.” You smiled at the clown. His voice was less offputting this time, but his laugh was still as uncomfortable to listen to.

“Come to the circus, Y/N. I’d love to have you for dinner.”

Thinking it over, you stepped forward, somewhat nervously. Something told you this might not be a good idea. Your paces quickened, and soon you were just a few steps away from the clown.

He reached out his arm, offering it to you. You eyed it nervously. But what could possibly go wrong? It was just a clown, after all.

“Take it.”

You didn’t hesitate, but your hand never reached his arm, as the world disappeared around you.

***

“Can I break the door down yet?” Richie sighed, sitting in Eddie’s room, the other Losers scattered around.

“She needs space. She almost died.” Ben placed a hand on Richie’s back, patting it twice. Richie shot up at his words.

“What do you mean she almost died?” He yelled, and Ben stepped back in surprise.

“She came in, covered in dirt. Like, a lot of dirt. So I went to the dirtiest place I know; the barrens.” The Losers listened in anticipation, Richie staring intensely.

“The clubhouse was destroyed. Filled with dirt. Her phone was sticking out of the dirt. She almost drowned in dirt.” He handed Richie the phone, and he clicked the home button. Your lockscreen was a photo of the two of you, at the zoo, the time he’d taken you for your birthday.

You were only a toddler back then, way before Richie had become the household name he was now. You were on his back, trying to feed a giraffe. Memories of that day flood back as he stares at the photo. He remembers when the giraffe had licked your face, making you giggle and smile widely.

He hadn’t seen you smile like that in years.

“I’m gonna go talk to her.” Richie left the room, turning your phone off and on again to look at that photo.

He reached his room, knocking softly. He didn’t expect you to open the door immediately and wasn’t surprised when he didn’t hear your voice. He definitely hadn’t expected the door to be unlocked. He pushed it open, calling your name softly.

Richie froze in his tracks.

NO ONE TO PROTECT HER

“Fuck. Guys!”

The Losers ran in, freezing as Richie had done. They read the words written in blood, all of their jaws dropping. Richie ran out of the room and down the stairs, the Losers following shortly behind.

He stopped at the door, spinning round to face the other five.

“Let’s kill this fucking clown.”

***

“Yeah, I dunno if this is what you call a circus, buddy.”

You complained, sitting cross-legged on the damp floor. You weren’t sure how long you’d been here, but you did know you had woken up in a puddle of water and you had not appreciated that one bit.

Trusting the clown was a dumb choice, but luckily no one but you would ever know you had willingly gone with it. Unless that shitheel of a clown told everyone.

“Usually, circuses have, like, a tent and popcorn or some shit. I don’t see any of that here. Just rocks, and water, and more rocks.”

You continued to yell to nothing. You wondered if that clown fucker could hear you. Probably.

“I understand if you’re on a budget, circuses don’t make that much money, but at least put some effort in. Would some lights be too expensive?”

Leaning against a rock, you closed your eyes. When you opened them, two seconds later, the fucking clown was there. He grabbed your throat with no hesitation, lifting you up effortlessly.

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down! I’m sorry if I offended you. I was just a bit disappointed with your choice of decorations. It’s not very circus-y, for a clown, yknow.”

Maybe you should’ve shut up. But you were a Tozier, as much as you wished you weren’t, and talking was a gift.

“So, hey, how about you put me down and we can go over some design id-”

You froze in fear as the clown’s face seemed to unhinge itself, revealing rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth. Your eyes were drawn to the three spinning lights at the bottom of its throat.

You felt like you were dying.

***

The six Losers followed the path they had followed so many years ago. It was muscle memory for them. The greywater was still as disgusting as Eddie remembered, and he made as big of a deal as the others remembered him making.

“Cmon, we gotta head down here.”

Mike gestured to the trapdoor. He pulled the cover off, revealing a seemingly never-ending ladder. They climbed down one by one, Mike and Richie leading the charge. At the bottom of the ladder, the followed the cavern to an opening.

They all squeezed through the gap, finding the cavern of spikes. And at the centre of it all, you, floating as Beverly had done. Richie ran across the cavern, tripping over some of the rocks scattered everywhere.

“No, no, no. Guys! What do we do?” Richie was panicking, more than anyone had ever seen him. You were floating quite high, higher than Beverly had, but not as high as the other kids. Richie called Eddie over, yelling at him to get on his shoulders.

“Eddie, I can’t reach her on my own! Get up!”

Eddie complied, not wanting to see Richie like this any longer. He climbed on Richie’s shoulders, grabbing your ankle and dragging you down to their level.

Your glossed over eyes brought tears to Richies’. This was all his fault. Him and his stupid jobs and stupid parties and stupid ignorance.

“I’m so sorry Y/N…”

***

You walked into your home. God, it felt great to call it that. Your perfect tiny apartment with your dad.

“Afternoon, sweetheart. How was school?” Richie’s voice drifted in from the living room.

“It was actually pretty good. Steve and I got paired up for a project, so he’ll be coming over sometime in the near future.” You called back, hearing Richie get up from the couch. He appeared in the doorframe, raising one eyebrow.

“Steve, huh?” He smirked, leaving you red in the face.

“Yeah, you got a problem with him coming over?” You tried not to laugh, as did Richie.

“No, no, not at all,” He laughed. “Ok, no jokes, you know I don’t mind Steve coming over. I love the kid.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him that. It’ll ease his nerves about you.”

“He’s nervous about me? I’m the one who should be nervous. Steve’s gonna steal my little girl away.” Richie nudged your shoulder suggestively, making you gag and roll your eyes.

You headed to your room, passing Richie who was watching some trashy reality show. He gestured to a plate on the coffee table, a few slices of brownie sitting uneaten. You grabbed a slice, thanking your dad, before making it to your door.

You swung it open, reaching for the light switch, only to find nothing. You kept hitting the wall, hoping to hear that familiar click of the switch, but still nothing.

“Dad?” You yelled, running back to the living room. You screamed at the dark void staring back at you. The kitchen was gone, the bathrooms, everything. All gone, replaced with a black void.

But there, in the darkness, you could see it. Three spiralling lights, drawing you forward. You could reach out and touch them, and you felt your fingertips burning as they drew closer. You grabbed for them, only to have them disappear as you did so.

And just like that, it was dark again.

Your eyes flew open, gasping for breath. Looking around, you saw all the Losers staring at you, eyes wide in shock. Wrapped around you, hugging you, was your dad.

“Holy shit, Rich, it worked!” Eddie yelled as Richie looked you dead in the eyes.

“Y/N? Oh my fucking god, I thought I’d lost you!”

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t look your father in the eyes without tears springing to your own. He had been distant, sometimes cold, and not that great of a father, and yet here he was, saving you.

And you knew, in that moment, that he had always cared, and he would always care.

#richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier x daughter!reader #it #it x reader #it 2 #it 2 x reader #it chapter 2 #it chapter 2 x reader #the losers club #the losers club x reader #losers club #losers club x reader

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bowieandqueen11 · 5 years ago

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Positive? / Tozier!Reader x Eddie Kaspbrak Imagine

Request: Hi! I love your blog sooooo much and come on everyday to check for new imagines because they’re so good! I was wondering if i could request an adult Eddie Kaspbrak x reader where she’s Richie’s sister and when they’re all fighting Pennywise, they lose sight of her but when they’re at the 3 doors they open one and it’s like a zombie version of her and they get all scared but reunite with her later and Eddie confesses his feelings and they kiss? If not, that’s okay! I completely understand. ☺��

This is so sweet love thank you so so much!! <3

Warning - somewhat graphic and disgusting descriptions, as well as strong language!

Comments are always appreciated!

‘Are you sure she’s going to be through this door?’

‘Yes, I-uh, yeah.’

‘Positive?’

‘Positive!? Jesus, just come on, she better be behind this one-’

Richie doesn’t have time to mumble another word before Eddie’s hand is tugging at his elbow, his headlight nearly blinding him as he blinks back with a sharp ‘agh’. Eddie’s mouth falls into an open frown as Richie comes to settle next to him again, the thin beam of light shaking over the crumbling rock walls that seems to be closing the two of them into the darkness - that is, until he spots a striped tentacle with a frilled lace edge wind its way down the middle.

‘Yep, very scary it is’, Richie mutters as he pulls the two of them over to the wall. He swallows thickly, his fingers faltering as they hover as the rusted auburn doorknob, Eddie watching him hesitantly with a hand still on his back. Richie tries to shake the hair away from his eyes, watching the blood trail slower and slower down the cracking cream wood until it lands onto the floor in pregnant drips. Plop. Plop. Plop.

He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help but feel the same fire flick and wind their tendrils around his intestines, the same burning lava that crawled up his throat as it had the last time you had gone missing. The last time the eight of you were in Niebolt. He couldn’t shake the image of you lying on the floor, blood pouring out of your mouth and dried underneath your fingertips, screaming and screaming as you were dragged out of view.

He had to keep convincing himself that it wasn’t real. But this, this felt a bit too real.

He was too preoccupied with trying to stop his hand from twitching to notice the beads of sweat Eddie wiped away from his chin, not noticing the tear stains that were mixing in and drying on his sleeve.

‘She’ll be there, Rich. She has to be.’

All Richie can do is nod, Eddie following his lead with silent resolve to stop himself from bursting out into tears.

The door banging on its hinges is what broke Richie out of his nightmare, the slight dust falling from the top edge and raining down on his hair like winter’s snow as the lock creaked with each inch it battered forward. Throwing it open, the first thing they both notice are the cobwebs that hung from every surface as if taking on the repulsiveness of old and dirty lace. The fine strands were no longer white, instead they hang heavy with grey dust. Where they have been torn by the wind that blows unhindered through the empty door frame that had stood in that spot underneath their feet from the dawn of time, they hang in clumps, the artistry of the original cobweb destroyed.

Eddie couldn’t catch the thought that tumbles out of his mouth before he’s spoken it.

‘Where the fuck is she?’

‘Wh-what-’

Darkness is a strange substance. Since it is a sort of mystical material, it doesn't fall under the laws of science, only able to change states by the user. In solid form its almost completely black aside from a very tiny shade of red at its centre, like a candle in the dark. When a non-user touches it its like getting winded, if hit by a sharp point it will penetrate and quickly infect. As a liquid its thick; sticky, and has a pungent smell of ink, it can act like quicksand or just plain coat and suffocate people. But this, this darkness, the thing that came creaking down the middle of it, passed through it with ease. It suffocated, ate away at their hearts like acid, but the cracking of heavy footprints in the darkness never stopped, no matter how much Eddie shoved his fist into his mouth or Richie stood, eyes wide behind his too large glasses and mouth slack.

The ghost of you had one ear missing and both lips had been bitten off, perhaps that was Pennywise’s little last departing gift. One hand had been mangled and your right bicep was chewed away exposing the white humerus beneath. Each rattling breath you drew made a low growling moan that chilled Eddie’s blood. You halted by the swinging light switch and Richie could hear the bones in your stiffened neck creak.

You had spotted him. Death was walking towards him.

He needed no other cue, he dived for the door and bolted out into the cave entrance, Eddie coming tumbling behind him, feet dragging and tripping over the dirt but with no control. Richie had too tight a grip on his collar.

‘What-what was that, Rich. What the FUCK WAS THAT!’

��She’s still alive. She’s still alive, I know she is. We didn’t lose sight of her for that long, and Pennyfuck over here has been in the centre the whole time. It’s all a trick, like before, it has to be.’

Deadlights.

That’s all that you saw. The deadlights.

As Eddie ran back towards the others and finally spotted to where the others were pointing, your motionless body swinging lightly in the air as if a gentle breeze was caressing your body, all Eddie could feel was anger. Anger that it should have been him in those lights, not his Y/N. He hadn’t been there. But he would be now.

Stumbling to his feet, feeling angrier and more indignant now than he ever had in his life, he turns to face the thing that had plagued this town and the one who owned his heart for too long now, raising his arms out in tight fists by his side before running forward out of a floundering Bill’s grasp, passing Mike’s reaching hands as he tries to hold Eddie back, instead picking up the piece of fence railing Beverly had broken off from outside the well house and slamming it down into the spider’s mouth.

He feels the fear. He still takes the step forwards. And then, as if by magic, he finds confidence, all those steps he took in his life building up to this, building a brave soul, an accomplished person who does much for others, one who has their respect and love.

Hitting out against the thing, he kicks and scrab and fight with all that’s left in him, closing his eyes tight and thinking only of your famous Tozier laugh. And for a moment, as its hold begins to loosen, it feels as if he’s won.

Then all you could feel was his back thumping against the jagged rocks.

He runs over to you, skidding onto the floor by your side as Richie drops down onto his knees by Mike. When he finally sees you flutter your eyes, a smile settles on his face as Eddie gazes down at you, bubbling laughter ripping from his throat as he pins you down with his thighs on either side of your hips.

‘E-Eds…?’, you whisper, reaching up to rub his thumb along the bottom of his cut.

'Is this real?’

‘What do you mean-’

‘I saw you. I saw you all those years ago, back when we were thirteen, that summer, I see it now, I see us, I remember everything I felt and everything we did, and I should have told you then, I should have- I thought I was dead Eds, it felt like it, it felt like nothing-’

‘Hey, hey, slow down, you sound like me.’ Eddie chuckles as you look up at him, a warmth radiating from his doe eyes as his hands spread out next to your face, a heat coming off from his black jacket as it hangs loosely by your hips.

‘I-’, you try not to choke up. ‘I’m sorry Eds. I’m sorry. I didn’t think our lives would turn out like this.’

‘Well, we have the rest of it to make up for it, don’t we? Because I love you, Y/n. I haven’t said that to many people- well, anyone before, because I was always saving it for you. I was always just too scared to say it. Takes a killer clown again, huh?’

Breathlessly, you gaze up at the adoration that floods out of the man’s eyes, before exhaling a shaky sob, your eyes filling with tears. Eddie smiles, a huge, genuine smile, not caring about the clown in the centre of his room as he turns his concentration quickly to capturing your lips, parting his mouth as he bites your bottom lip gently, a soft groan rumbling from the back of Eddie’s throat. Breaking apart, his lips plump and swollen from the sudden attack, he gazes down into your eyes like a lost soul searching desperately for home, before smiling softly as he finds what he’s looking for.

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 5 years ago

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Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 3: The Right Stuff •

I’ve been writing this for the past couple of days, wanted to have it ready for today. Happy Halloween! 🎃

×××

“Take everything but the Delicious Deals, guys,” Eddie instructed. “My mom loves them.

Richie was rifling through Eddie’s kitchen cabinet, Bill and Richie had stopped by Eddie’s house before their trip to the barrens. They figured they should grab some snacks beforehand.

Eddie watches, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Hey! First, you said the Barrens, now you’re saying the sewer.” He said. “I mean, what if we get caught?”

“We won’t, Eds,” Bill assured. “The sewers are p-p-public works. We’re the public aren’t we?”

“Hey, Eddie?” Richie stood at the other end of the kitchen, a cabinet full of pills open. “these your birth control pills?”

“Yeah, and I’m saving it for your sister. This is private stuff.” Eddie retorted.

The boys closed all the cabinets and exited the kitchen. The TV from the front room was playing softly, Mrs. Kaspbrak was seated in her living room, watching.

“Hello, and welcome to the Derry Children’s Hour.”

“Eddie Bear,” the boys stopped, looking at Mrs. Kaspbrak. “where you boys off to in such a rush?”

“Umm…” Bill spoke up, already feeling the effects of his stutter. “J-j-just my uh, backyard, Mrs. K. I g-got a new…”

“A new croquet set,” Richie jumped in. “Jeez, spit it out, Buh-Buh-Bill”

“Okay,” she eased, her eyes drilling into the boys. “Oh, and sweetie, don’t go rolling around on the grass. Especially if it’s just been cut. You know how bad you’re allergies can get.”

“Yes, mom. Let’s go.” Eddie mumbled, and he began herding his friends out of the door.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Eddie froze, and his friends hesitated. Shamefully, he turned and walked into the living room towards his mother who held out her cheek. Eddie planted a quick kiss and returned to the front door. He could see Richie and Bill stifling laughter.

“Do you want one from me too, Mrs. K?” Richie felt a harsh shove towards the door, and he chuckled. “I was kidding!”

The boys, now joined by Stan, zipped through the streets of Derry, wind in their hair. As they barrelled through the town, the Derry Public Library cropped up into view.

Inside, sat at one of the tables and thoughtfully scribbling on a postcard was Ben Hanscom. He had been mulling over the poem, trying to find the perfect words he could use that could possibly capture what he felt in his heart. Finally, when he had finished, he read the final draft in a hushed whisper.

“You’re hair is winter fire, January embers… My heart burns there too.”

His attention was brought to the windows when he heard muffled shouts outside.

“Slow down!” Said one voice.

“Hi-ho, Silver! Away!” Cried another.

He spotted four bikes cruising down the street, just in front of the library. The first voice cried out again.

“Your old lady bike’s too fast for us!”

The abrupt smack of the book as it hit the table echoed across the quiet library, his attention on the snippy librarian. Her glasses sat perched on the edge of her nose and she was staring judgmentally at Ben.

“Found it.” Her eyes squinted. “Isn’t it summer vacation? I would think you’d be ready to take a break from the books.”

Ben who was fiddled nervously with his fingers, shrugged. “I like it here.”

She blinked at his response and looked down at him distastefully. “A boy should be spending his summer outside with friends. Don’t you have any friends.”

Ben looked away, before speaking, avoiding all eye contact with the stingy woman.

“Can I have the book now?”

She gave the book a quick pat and left promptly. Ben breathed a sigh in relief and grabbed the History of Old Derry, opening it up.

He was constantly intrigued by his new town, and every time he could dig deeper into its history, he felt a little piece of the puzzle fall into place.

He flipped through the pages, eyes trained on the different pictures, scanning the captions but nothing, in particular, caught his eye. That is until he reached one photo in particular. It was a rather tall building, flooded with people of all ages, mostly children. What caught his eye was an old circus caravan.

It featured a picture of a clown. Some of it was cut off, but he could make out some of it. “Penny-” the rest was covered, and below it, he had gotten enough context to know it read “Dancing Clown.”

Below the picture, the caption read “Easter Egg Hunt celebration at the Derry Iron Work, April 3rd, 1908” Unbeknownst to Ben, a woman at the back of the library, turned to watch him. Eyes fixed completely on Ben, an eerie smile on her face.

Ben continued to flip through the book, fascinated. Another photo, this one of several kids, all holding their baskets of eggs. He turned the page, and featured on the next page was a photocopy of a newspaper, the Derry Herald. It read, “EASTER EXPLOSION KILLS 88 CHILDREN, 102 TOTAL”

He scanned the page briefly, his eyes lingering on the photo featured in the newspaper. Ben felt a chill run down his spine, still oblivious to the woman staring at him in the library. As he advanced further in the book, it only grew darker. Bodies were strewn all over the grass in the photo, captioned, “Bodies of those killed in Derry Iron Works Explosion, 1908”

Another page. This photo depicted a small crowd of people gathered around an old tree. “A gruesome discovery in the wake of the Derry Iron Works explosion, 1908”. Ben could not see the gruesome discovery he read about, and he was thankful. He turned the page again. Peculiar.

A slightly zoomed-in version of the previous photo. He turned the page. The same photo, only closer. Another page. Another photo of the branches. Frantically, Ben continued to flip through the pages, heart thumping. Sure enough, like a slow-motion animation, it closed in on the branches of the tree. Closer and closer and closer and-

A head. A boy’s head. An impossibly crystal clear photo of a boy’s severed head is caught in the branches. Ben felt his stomach lurch and he slammed the book shut, panting heavily. What the hell had he just seen?

His eyes trailed from the cover of A History of old Derry to a recent headline of the newspaper. “Body found by canal not Betty Ripsom” What the hell was wrong with this town? Ben stiffed when he heard a soft giggle, the slow tune of an old music box began to play. Slowly he turned.

Across the library, a bright red balloon was floating across the library, disappearing through a doorway. He rose to his feet and peered out the doorway, anxiety settling in his stomach. Perched on the steps was a smoking easter egg, charred and burned. For an unknown reason, Ben let his legs carry him down the hall, where he found another singed egg. And another. And another.

He now found himself in the library’s basement, where everything was stored in a maze of shelves. He picked up the egg, despite its charred exterior, it wasn’t hot. He could have sworn he heard shuffling down the hallway of shelves and he crept forward. Was the librarian down here, he wondered. She couldn’t be, the lights were off. Right on cue, the lights flickered on and off, a sickening pale green.

The lights flickered long enough for Ben to see a figure dart between the shelves. The room went dark once more and Ben beard a clatter from behind him. He turned around, and at the top of the stairs was the figure of a boy, maybe his age. It was hard to tell. Regardless, Ben watched cautiously as the figure took a few stiffened steps down the stairs one see step at a time. He froze, and Ben watched anxiously, his heart pounding. The figure took another step down, revealing to Ben that he had no head.

Smoke wafted from his neck and while he had no head, Ben knew somehow it was looking right at him. He had been holding several eggs to his chest, which he now dropped. The eggs hit the ground, splattering everywhere. The figure of the headless boy trudged down the stairs and froze briefly. And then it took off after Ben.

Ben sped down into the small maze of shelves, he could barely hear his own footsteps, let alone the footsteps of the figure over his pounding heart and heavy breathing. He cast a glance over his shoulder to see the figure running stiffly but swiftly after him. He made so many turns he lost count of where he was, much too frightened to paying attention to where he was going. He found that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the figure chasing him, too afraid if he didn’t look he would sneak up and grab him. He looked forward just in time to turn the corner.

A taunting gravelly voice grabbed his attention, and he quickly glanced a final glance behind him to see a giant bulbous clown head on top of the boy’s once headless figure was right in front of him.

“Egg boy!” It said.

He felt himself collide with a figure and he stumbled back frightened. The figure he crashed into let out a startled gasp and dropped several books. It was the librarian.

She looked Ben up and down sharply. “What on earth are you doing?”

Ben spared a frightful look down the hallway of shelves, relieved to find nothing there. Still panting, in fear or exhaustion or possibly both, he had no idea. He looked the librarian in the eye once more and fled up the stairs, grateful to be caught where he shouldn’t have been.

After gathering his things, and his composure, Ben exited the library. He trudged across the grass, passing the stone monument, unaware of the spiteful mulleted teenager that had been waiting for him.

“Where you off to, tits?”

Ben took one look at Henry Bowers and fled. Unfortunately, he hadn’t made it far before one of his goons had been waiting for him and snatched him up.

“Gotcha.”

The Bowers gang had dragged a fighting Ben Hanscom several blocks to Derry’s infamous Kissing Bridge.

“Wait!”

“Fucking hold him!”

“Leave me alone!”

“Smack him.”

“Don’t let tubby get away.”

"Help!“

Laughter erupted from the vicious group of boys. Patrick Hockstetter had a hold on Ben, one of them had pulled Ben’s shirt up over his head, disorienting him. A cackling Victor Criss slapped Ben’s stomach teasingly and each of them got a shot at kicking, poking and shoving, in ignoring the boy’s cries of protest.

Ben felt himself get pinned against the side of the bridge. "Just leave me alone.”

“Look at all this blubber!” Exclaimed Belch, who ripped his shirt back down.

Ben looked around in fear, struggling against his attackers. The rattling of a can came from Patrick, who eagerly shook the can of hairspray as he stood in front of Ben.

“Let me light his hair, like Michael Jackson,” he said eagerly, flicking open his lighter and created a small bellow of flames.

“Just hold him,” Growled Henry, pushing him out of the way and Ben roughly by the collar.

“Get off me! Get off me!” Ben stopped shouting when he heard the low rumble of a car.

Everyone else quieted as well, watching a car slowly cruised by, the window rolled down. The gang expected to be stopped, but the car kept going. The couple inside contributed nothing but a passing glance, and Ben cried out for help.

The only kind of response he received, was the abrupt and unexpected form of a bright red balloon popping up in the window of the back seat.

Henry landed a right hook in Ben’s jaw and another. Ben felt his sense getting knocked loose and he grew dizzy, his ears ringing. Henry grabbed him by the head, shaking it vigorously as he yelled in anger and madness. His hearing came back in time to hear Henry seething threats.

“Okay, new kid. This is what us locals call the Kissing Bridge. It’s famous for two things. Sucking face,” he held up his pocket knife and suddenly unsheathed it. “and carving names”

Nausea washed over Ben and winced, shaking his head desperately.

“Henry, please,” he pleaded, shaking his head no.

Ben roared in agony, searing pain erupted ok stomach as Henry forcefully carved a large H on his stomach. Patrick cackled madly and Victor said nothing. Belch was the only one who became uneasy.

“Woah, woah! Henry!”

“Shut up!” He bellowed, spit flying from his mouth. “I’m gonna carve my whole name onto this cottage cheese!”

In one swift movement, Ben brought his leg up to Henry, kicking himself off and he tumbled over the side of the bridge. Grunting, he tumbled down the harsh slope, being poked and stabbed by various twigs but none of it came close to the pain of the mark Henry had left.

He could hear the angry cries of Henry, who was peering over the bridge. “I’m gonna cut your fucking tits off. I swear to God!”

He launched himself over the bridge and all his friends joined him. Ben jumped to his feet when he heard the rustling of the leaves up the hill he had just fallen. He turned on his heel, and sprinted into the trees, trying desperately to ignore the searing pain in his stomach every time he moved. Ben made several twists and turns through the trees, never allowing himself to stop.

Meanwhile, Henry and his friends had reached the end of the hill, and Henry began sifting through the dirt and leaves frantically. “My knife. My old man will kill me!”

Belch and Patrick watched, not knowing what to do. Henry looked at him expectantly.

“You two get him!” They fled into the woods after Ben and Henry turned to Victor. “Move your fucking ass!”

Ben could hear the approaching footsteps and voices behind him as he reached a fork in the path. He went down the left which lead him to the edge of the ferns at the edge of a creek. Patrick and Belch reached the same fork and they stopped. Patrick gestured for Belch to take the right while Patrick took the left.

Ben felt his socks dampen, as ran along the creek leaving the Bowers gang far behind him.

×××

“You holding up okay?”

Beverly had returned to the living room, now fully dressed in a maroon tank top and denim shorts, her usual key around her neck and her long red hair hung at the side of her shoulders in a ponytail. The two girls had scraped together as many ointments and bandages for Y/n’s leg.

Though they hadn’t had much luck. They couldn’t find a single thread of gauze and only half a foot of ace bandages. So Beverly did her best to clean the wound with a wet paper towel and applied some ointment. She found a spare white cotton cloth in the linen closet and wrapped it firmly around Y/n’s leg to stop the bleeding.

Once Y/n’s leg had been taken care of, they got to work cleaning the carpet as best as they could. Beverly took most of the trips back and forth to the kitchen given Y/n was still much too sore. When the carpet had been scrubbed within an inch of its life, the girls finally retreated to the couch and talked into the sun came up. They talked about anything and everything - aside from what Y/n had seen, still much too frightened to speak of it.

Beverly stood at the edge of Y/n’s living room, now fully dressed, looking at Y/n, trying to gauge her mood. She had not moved from her spot on the couch and she looked as if she was lost in thought, her eyes fixed on the barely visible pink stain on the carpet.

“Y/n?”

Snapping out of her daze, she looked to Beverly, still in a bit of a daze. “Hm?”

“Are you alright to get dressed, or,” she trailed off, not wanting to offend her friend but still offering her assistance.

“Oh, yeah, I’m good. Thanks,”

She pushed herself off the couch and limped lightly into the hall, passing Beverly and retreated into her room to get dressed. She winced at the pain that seared in her leg but she relaxed gradually. She was growing used to it.

Biting her lip and hissing slightly, she tried her best to step into her pair of overall shorts. She had almost gotten her leg in when she began to tip over. Thankfully she had landed on her bed, she used the advantage to slip easily in her shorts and sighed in relief, the hard part over.

Satisfied with her handiwork, Y/n grabbed her lowest pair of socks and shoes and joined Beverly back in the living room. Beverly had prepared breakfast for the two of them, a bowl of cereal for her and a [y/f/b] for Y/n.

Beverly smiled warmly, welcoming her back, but her eyes fell to Y/n’s ankle and she winced.

“We really need to get you some proper bandages,” She eased.

Y/n looked down at her leg to see the once white cloth was stained a deep crimson color and she sighed, looking back at Bev who offered a weak smile.

A yawn escaped her lips and Y/n felt a twinge of guilt for keeping her friend up all night. Beverly recognized the look on her face and she smiled.

“Don’t worry, Y/n it’s fine. Let’s just have our breakfast and then we’ll get you some proper supplies at the pharmacy. I was planning on making a trip there today anyway. You can come with me,”

×××

Stan, Richie, Eddie, and Bill were treading the edge of the water, Bill in the lead towards the sewers. Stan was gesturing all around him, a sure frown on his face.

“That’s poison ivy. And that’s poison ivy. And that’s poison ivy.”

“Where?” Eddie looked around, watching his step. “Where’s the poison ivy?”

“Nowhere,” Richie remarked. “Not every fucking plant is poison ivy, Stanley.”

Bill and Richie stepped into the large cement mouth of the sewer tunnels, Eddie and Stan refusing to cross the threshold. Eddie was shifting on his feet, growing antsy.

“Okay, I’m starting to get itchy now, and - and I’m pretty sure this is not good for my–”

“Do you use the same bathroom as your mother?” Richie quipped, cutting Eddie off.

“Sometimes, yeah.”

“Then you probably have crabs.”

“That’s so not funny.”

The flashlights crawled along the walls of the slimy sewer tunnel and Richie turned around to face his two hesitant friends.

“Aren’t you guys coming in?”

Eddie took one look at the murky water and shook his firmly. “Uh-uh. It’s greywater.”

“What the hell’s greywater?”

“It’s basically piss and shit. So I’m just telling you, you guys are splashing around in millions of gallons of Derry pee. So…”

The stick Richie had been carrying was swirled around the water before he brought it up to his face. He took a big whiff and Eddie used all his strength not to gag.

“Are you series? What are you-?”

“Doesn’t smell like caca to me señor!” Richie retorted in an accent.

“Okay, I can smell that from here.”

Richie smiled a toothy grin. “It’s probably just your breath wafting back into your face.”

Eddie scoffed heavily, shaking his head in disbelief and he tried desperately to contain his frustration. “Have you ever heard of a staph infection?”

Amused as ever, Richie grinned, waving the stick towards his friend. “Oh, I’ll show you a staph infection.”

“This is so unsanitary. You’re literally-”

The continued to bicker further and Stan rolled his eyes, already fed up with them.

“This is literally like swimming inside of a toilet bowl right now,”

Still grinning, Richie picked something up from the water with his stick and waved it around.

“Have you ever heard of Listeria? AHH” Eddie screamed in terror and jumped back slightly when Richie launched the sopping wet piece of garbage at Eddie.

He snickered at the boy’s reaction, and Eddie launched into another lecture. Bill, who was the deepest in the tunnels, had found a shoe floating in the water.

“Guys!”

The boys stopped bickering and looked to their friend. He was holding the shoe illuminating the dripping shoe with his flashlight.

Stan grew grave, and his voice broke as he spoke. “Shit. Don’t tell me that’s…”

“No. G-Georgie wore galoshes.”

Richie had joined Bill’s side and he peered inside the shoe.

“Who’s sneaker is it?” Eddie asked.

Richie turned, and looked back at his friend, trying to hide his shock. “It’s Betty Ripsom’s,”

An uneasy and solemn silence fell over them. All sense of mischief and jokes forgotten. Eddie let out a shaky breath.

“Oh, shit. Oh, God. Oh, fuck!” Stan watched quietly, silently shutting down and Eddie was still trying to cope with the discovery. “I don’t like this.”

Richie, who always reverted to humor as his coping mechanism, did just that.

“How do you think Betty feels?” He stood on one foot and hopped a couple of times. “Running around these tunnels with only one frickin’ shoe?”

Richie stopped when he saw the serious and frightened faces on his friends and he knew he went too far. At that moment, Stan spoke up, his voice wavering.

“What if she’s still here?”

V No one answered, but Bill and Richie retreated farther in the tunnels.

“Eddie, come on!” Richie urged.

“My mom will have an aneurysm, okay, if she finds out that we’re playing down here. I’m serious.”

Bill hadn’t acknowledged what anyone had said, this attention still focused on the murky waters below.

“Bill?”

He turned around a sad look in his eyes.

“If… If I was Betty Ripsom, I would want us to find me.” They all shifted uncomfortably. “G-Georgie too.”

Eddie, who couldn’t contain his discomfort, shakily spoke up.

“What if I don’t want to find them?”

Everyone looked to Eddie, shocked. Not surprised that he felt that way, but that he brought it up. Like some unspoken thought, they all had in the back of their minds.

“I mean, no offense, Bill, but I don’t want to end up like…” The name Georgie almost rolled off his tongue, and he shook his head feeling guilty. “I don’t want to go missing either.”

“He has a point,” Stan added.

“Y-y-you too?”

“It’s summer. We’re supposed to be having fun. This isn’t fun. This is scary and disgusting.”

The four of them gasped when a figure collapsed outside in the water. Stan and Eddie whirled around to see a boy gasping for breath on his hands and knees. He attempted to get back up but he fell once more. It looked as if this was the first time in a long while he had stopped to catch his breath. It was Ben Hanscom, but they knew him as the new kid.

Richie peered out of the tunnel.

“Holy shit! What happened to you?”

×××

“I think it’s great we’re helping the new kid but we also need to think of our own safety.”

The five boys emerged from the forest, there bikes bouncing slowly on the grassy terrain before descending onto the pavement. Ben had been offered the backseat of Bill’s bike, and the rest trailed behind as they made their way to the pharmacy downtown. As usual, Eddie was informing the group of the possible dangers of their current situation.

“I mean, he’s bleeding all over and you guys know that there’s an AIDS epidemic happening right now as we speak, right? And my mom’s friend in New York City got it by touching a dirty pole on the subway. And a drop of AIDS blood got into his system through a hangnail. A hangnail!”

The gang was now halfway to the pharmacy and despite his rapid speech patterns, his rant had lasted the majority of the trip.

By the time they reached the alley outside the pharmacy, Eddie was wrapping up.

“…and you can amputate legs and arms. But how do you amputate a waist? How do you amputate a waist? You guys do know that alleys are known for dirty needles that have AIDS, right? You guys do know that?”

Like their knack for tuning out Richie’s trash mouth, the rest of them had a knack for tuning out Eddie’s medical rants.

They parked their bikes in the alley, and Ben took a seat on some wooden crates, leaning against the brick wall.

“Ah, we’re screwed,” Mumbled Stan.

Bill and the others began retreating down the alleyway.

“Richie, stay wait here. Come on,”

Richie stood awkwardly with Ben, and he chuckled weakly.

“Glad I got to meet you before you died.”

Ben looked up at Richie, unimpressed with his joke and Richie shifted uneasily. And the unlikely duo waited in silence. Inside the pharmacy, Bill and Stan fell back, letting Eddie take the wheel. He grabbed nearly everything he could reach and in a few seconds, had a small pile packed against his chest.

Meanwhile, Stan and Bill had scoured their pockets for money, but all the two had managed to scrounge together was a measly three dollars.

“Can we afford all that?” Bill asked, referring to the small mountain of medical supplies Eddie was holding.

Stan held up the three dollar bills in his hands and shrugged. “It’s all we got.”

“You kidding me?” Eddie sighed, disappointed.

“Wait, you have an account here, don’t you?” Bill asked hopefully.

Eddie gave his friend an incredulous look.

“If my mom finds out I bought all this stuff, I’m spending the whole rest of the weekend in the hospital getting x-rayed.”

Two isles over Beverly stood facing the wall of feminine hygiene products. Y/n appeared from around the corner holding a small plastic bag of gauze and bandages that she had just paid for. She joined her friend’s side, noticing the indecisiveness in Bev and she quickly scanned the shelves. She finally found the familiar brand and grabbed a box off the shelf and handed it to Beverly. She took it and looked to Y/n.

“If you’re looking for comfort, this one’s your best best bet.” She whispered, smiling weakly.

Bev breathed a sigh of relief and sent her a grateful glance. Together, the two girls began treading towards the end of the aisle and around the corner. They both froze when they heard a familiar voice.

“See you later, Dad.”

They caught a glimpse of Gretta at the opposite end, closing up her bag and the two girls quickly shuffled to the safety of the next aisle before Gretta could spot them. Except for Y/n, who moved in more of a quick hobble.

They rounded the corner and found themselves face to face with three familiar faces. Beverly instinctively shoved the box of tampons behind her back before they could notice it. And Y/n had realized why the boys were so familiar.

One of them, she realized, was completely fixated on her. The smaller boy who held several first aid supplies held to his chest and when he saw her, a roll of medical tape slipped from his hand. But his wide eyes never left her.

Everyone stood there awkwardly for a moment before Eddie broke the silence. He smiled nervously at her and shifted a bit on his feet.

“Hey, uh, hi! I remember you, how’s the le-gaaahh…” his words spilled into a messy gasp as his eyes landed on her ankle.

By now, the makeshift white bandage was stained completely red, and it looked as if no more blood could possibly be soaked up.

Eddie tried desperately not to gag, though it was very difficult for him.

Bill looked between both girls before his eyes fell on Y/n’s leg, but he tried not to stare.

“Are y-you guys, okay?”

Beverly quickly responded, looking between Y/n and the boys, eager to divert attention away from the ox she held behind her.

“We just came to get supplies for her leg, that’s it. What’s wrong with you?”

“None of your business,” Stan snapped, sensing her abrasiveness.

“There’s a kid outside. Looked like someone killed him.”

During the whole conversation, Eddie had looked at Beverly maybe once. His attention focused on Y/n, and all his energy went towards not looking at her ankle.

“W-we need s-s-some supplies, but we don’t have enough money,” Bill said sadly.

Beverly frowned the familiar sinking feeling in her stomach. She didn’t want to, but she knew she had to. It was the only way she could think of distracting him and helping the boys. She looked anxiously at Mr. Keene and sighed. She gave one look at Y/n and lowered her voice.

“Go with them, or wait outside at least. I’ll be right out,”

Y/n recognized the look in her best friend and she quickly shook her head.

“Beverly, you don’t have to do this,” she whispered.

“Just go, I’ll be fine.”

Beverly took off past the boys and headed to the counter.

“Bev,” she hissed, but she ignored her.

Instinctively, she tried to follow her friend but she hissed in pain when she put pressure on her leg.

The boys immediately noticed her pain and Bill took a few steps forward, ready to catch her if she fell.

She caught herself before that could happen and Eddie shifted on his feet nervously.

“Do you need help with your ankle? I know first aid and I could help you after I helped the new kid?”

“Ew,” Y/n groaned, cringing.

Eddie tried to mask his hurt unsuccessfully, he looked down to his feet and his cheeks turned pink.

“A simple no would have sufficed, Jesus,” he mumbled.

“What? Oh,” she shook her head, “no, It’s Mr. Keene, ”

Y/n frowned, gesturing to Beverly at the counter.

Mr. Keene was looking Bev up and down, hungrily. The way he was smiling at her made her nauseous.

“Oh…�� Eddie turned around to see what she was talking about, and Stan and Bill did too. “Oh.”

They watched Bev take off his glasses of her face, folding them up. While handing them back she “accidentally” knocked over the small shelf of cigarettes. Mr. Keene smiled weakly and bent over to pick them up.

“Come on, let’s go,” Y/n whispered quickly.

She was backing up, gesturing for the boys to follow her. But they were still staring at Beverly in shock.

“Now! Come on!” She hissed under her breath.

Beverly grabbed a pack of cigarettes that had landed on the counter, and Y/n realized the boys were never gonna figure it out in time.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” rolling her eyes, she grabbed two of their wrists, her grocery bag hooked on one finger and began pulling them towards the door.

Beverly cast a glance over her shoulder, to see Y/n dragging the boys away.

The boys stumbled out of the aisle, tripping over themselves in the process. Y/n was dragging Eddie and Bill by their wrists and Stan had caught on. Eddie was taken aback, but he was mostly distracted by the fact that he was dropping his supplies left and right.

“Jesus, you’d think you never saw a distraction before in your lives,” Y/n sighed, releasing the boys.

Eddie scoffed, making a face implying he was going to say something but instead, he awkwardly looked away, words failing him.

“Alright, well…?” she looked between the three boys expectantly, they were all staring at her, waiting to see what she had to say.

She raised her eyebrows, not believing they had already forgotten about the injured kid.

“The kid? Bleeding out somewhere? We gonna help him or what?”

Shock washed over them and Eddie and Stan took off around the corner, and Y/n followed. Bill walked after them to the alley, seeming to linger by the entrance to the store to wait for Bev.

Y/n hobbled down the alley and by the time she got there Eddie was already knelt down in front of Ben. He was riling through his supplies, and Ben lifted his shirt.

Y/n noticed Richie Tozier had been waiting with the injured boy. Poor kid, she thought. When Richie saw her, he adjusted his glasses and smiled smugly.

“Hey, toots!”

Y/n plastered on an obviously fake smile and tilted her head. “Hey, dick.”

Letting the name roll off his back he smiled, Richie clicked his tongue and winked. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

Despite her annoyance, a small chuckle escaped her mouth and she rolled her eyes. She was now looking at the kid who sat on some crates, the small boy tending to his wound. She winced, and took a seat next to him, relieved to get off her bad ankle.

“So,” she said simply, drawing the boy’s attention. “Whatcha in for?”

He tilted his head, clearly confused. She extended her bad leg and pointed to it.

“Bad leg,”

The boy’s eyes widened slightly and he looked back to her. “Some gnarly cuts. What about you?”

“Oh, uh, well same I guess.” He said, and she nodded.

"Just suck the wound.“ The two looked up to see Richie who addressed the smaller boy.

He immediately grew impatient, trying desperately not to get distracted.

"I really need to focus right now.”

“You need to focus?”

“Yeah, can you go get me something?”

“Jesus! What do you need?”

“Go get my bifocals. I hid ‘em in my second fanny pack.”

Y/n leaned forward, interested and slightly amused. “You have a second fanny pack?”

The other boy, who was standing near her nodded. “Yeah, why do you have two?”

“I need to focus right now and it’s a long story. I don’t want to get into it.”

Bill, who had been lingering at the end of the alley, heard the jingle of the store bell and he stepped back out on the sidewalk. Beverly was leaving the store and she walked towards him, knowing her friend must be nearby. Bill could have sworn timed slowed when she smiled. Nervously, Bill reached into his pocket, pulling out a couple of dollars and offered it to her.

“T-t-thanks.”

She held up a pack of smokes and winked. “Even stephen.”

Her attention was drawn to the voices coming from the alley.

“Oh, God, he’s bleeding! Oh, my God!” It was Stanley.

She saw Y/n and the boys crowded around a familiar face, she smiled fondly and headed their way. “Ben from soch?”

“You have to suck the wound before you apply the Band-Aids. This is 101!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ben looked up from the bickering duo and at the figure walking down the alley. His pulse quickened ever so slightly at the beautiful sight of Beverly Marsh.

“Are you okay?” She asked worriedly as she approached them. “That looks like it hurts.”

Ben shifted nervously and smiled. “Oh. No, I’m good. I just fell.”

Richie scoffed. “Yeah, right into Henry Bowers.”

Bill panicked, and shushed the boy, much to Beverly’s confusion. Y/n grew curious too.

“Why? It’s the truth.” Richie defended.

Beverly took a step forward, smiling coyly at Ben. “You sure they got the right stuff to fix you up?”

She winked and Ben felt his heart might explode. He smiled bashfully and looked down at the ground.

At that moment, the smaller boy had finished tending to him and had moved over to face Y/n’s leg. She hadn’t been paying attention and was surprised when she felt a tug on the cloth and she hissed in pain, drawing everyone’s attention.

Eddie hesitated and looked up at her apologetically. “Oh, sorry. This is okay, right? That I do this? It’s just that right now you’re exposing yourself to hundreds and thousands of bacteria and infection and this really needs to be checked out, so unless you’re on your way to the hospital anytime time soon, I really think I-”

Y/n chuckled and nodded her head, cutting him off.

“Yes! Yes, it’s okay. I’d really appreciate it,” she smiled warmly, growing fond of this kid already. “I’m Y/n, by the way. Y/n L/n.”

He nodded his head and for a moment he forgot how to speak. “Uh, Y/- Eddie. Eddie. I’m, Eddie. Kaspbrak.”

Amused, she watched Eddie get to work. She heard him mutter something about how he should have grabbed latex gloves, and he gagged when he pulled the cloth off her leg. Everyone’s attention was pulled back to her and Eddie when he held the blood-soaked cloth far away from himself. Tossing it a few feet away from himself, they heard it land on the pavement with a sopping wet slap.

Everyone, save for Beverly and Y/n, were shocked to see her actual wound. And poor Eddie looked as if he would faint.

“Oh, my God! Oh, my-”

“Holy, fuck!”

“S-s-shit,”

“That’s why we came here. All we could find was that cloth.”

“Oh my God, where’s the gauze?” He looked to Richie in a panic. “Where’s the fucking gauze?”

“Here take mine,” Y/n shoved her grocery bag at him and he took it gladly.

He unwrapped the gauze and applied several strips to her leg in order to cover each cut. She leaned down, placing her hand on some of them to keep them in place for him while he unwrapped the bandages.

“W-what happened anyway?” Bill looked between Y/n and Beverly.

Bev shrugged, and Y/n grew quiet, her eyes shifting around. “cat,”

Beverly frowned, clearly not buying it, knowing there wasn’t any cat around when I happened. Y/n met her eye, giving her. a look that screamed “Just please go with it,” And Bev let it go, for now.

“What kind of cat could’ve done that?” Asked the boy with curly hair.

Before Y/n could make up a lie, Richie jumped in, scoffing. “The bullshit kind, that’s what.”

Y/n gave him a weak glare, letting her eyes fix on her leg as it was being wrapped up.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

“Sure thing.” He was just finishing up applying the special ace bandage tape from her bag. “You’re all set.”

She gave him a warm smile and stood, wincing less. She smiled at the feeling. “It feels better already. Thanks again.”

He nodded and stood to his feet.

“Well, I guess we better get going.” Y/n said looking at Bev, who nodded.

“Uh, t-thanks again, Beverly,” Bill said, referring to her distraction.

She smiled. “Sure. Maybe we’ll see you around.”

“Y-yeah, we were thinking about on-going to the q-q-quarry tomorrow,” he looked to Eddie briefly with a smirk, before returning his gaze to the two girls. “if you guys wanna come.”

“Good to know. Thanks.” She replied.

Y/n joined Beverly by her side, her bag of supplies she had retrieved in hand, and smiled. “Yeah, maybe we’ll see you guys there.”

Her eyes landed on Eddie and he stood to his feet, much too fast. A pink hue dusting his cheeks. Y/n shared a nod with Beverly and the two were off, both of them casting a glance and wave at the group of boys before disappearing around the corner.

Stanley turned quickly on Richie. “Nice going bringing up Bowers in front of Beverly.”

“Yeah, dude, you heard what she did.”

Ben, who had remained silent on the cartons, spoke up curiously. “What’d she do?”

Richie smirked. “More like 'Who’d she do?’ From what I hear, the list is longer than my wang.”

“That’s not saying much.” Stan retorted, rolling his eyes.

Bill jumped in, his stutter got stronger. “T-t-they’re j-just rumors.”

“Anyway,” Richie continued, addressing Ben. “Bill had her back in third grade. They kissed in the school play. The reviews said you can’t fake that sort of passion.”

Ben’s heart sank, not in the least bit intrigued. And his sudden somber went completely unnoticed by the bickering boys. And somehow, all of them failed to notice the new figure painted behind the tire in the mural of the Bradley gang behind them. It was the pale white face of a clown, with a big crooked smile, and large tufts of orange hair and beady yellow eyes, right where Y/n’s head had been. It had been watching all of them.

+++

@seasidecrowbar @bevxmarsh @supernovawriting @readyforitbitch @classiprincess @edsloveshisrichie @sivords @ravenclawsprincess @pigwidgexn @kricketwritesstories @sweetpeasserpentprincess23 @plum-duels @edmunds-torch @eddiegaykaspbrak @rosi3e @welcome-to-derry @beepbeep-pennywise @candycorntroll @bibliophilesquared @ongaku-ato-kakikomi @cocastyle @peachysinnermon @mochibarnes @captainshazamerica @kaitlynjones12 @songbird-writes @traceylader @eggytozier @annimalq @lexylovesfandoms @russian-romanova @paigey-mcfreedomly

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dcnatural · 4 years ago

Text

I Did Something Bad

Word Count: 1854

Pairing: Reader x Joker

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: You are a bad cop and, one day, you cross paths with the Joker

There was something about him that fascinated you. Sure, maybe he was a crazy, narcissistic psychopath, but you couldn’t deny that he was easily the most interesting case you had ever investigated.

You had been working as an officer for GCPD for about a year when you first crossed paths with him. He had just fled Arkham, and like always, was looking to cause chaos. You and your partner were on patrol around the West Side, a rich and relatively peaceful part of the town, it was a calm night. That is, until a bleeding man jumped in front of the car, laughing like a maniac. It didn’t take more than a look for you know he was under the effect of the Laughing Gas. And that meant that the Joker was around here. While your partner called the precinct, asking for backup (as you would later found out to be procedure when dealing the Clown Prince of Crime), you followed the bloody trail that marked the path the man had made, hoping it would lead you to the criminal.

And it did. You caught up with him just in time to see his messy green hair entering a nightclub and went in after him. The party was noisy, and room was packed and when you thought you had lost him and was ready to give up, you spotted his messy green hair leaning on the bar counter and staring straight at you. But your blood didn’t freeze like you thought it would do, it boiled. The excitement of being face to face with the most notorious madman in the U.S.A. made you lose any professional objectivity, and instead of arresting him, you sat by his side and ordered a drink. The two of you didn’t talk, just looked at each other, and when the radio buzzed, calling you back to the scene, you went back without him.

Fifty people died in that club half an hour after you left, but, as you laid in bed, watching the news reporter announce the body count, you didn’t feel a bit guilty. No, you were intrigued. He could have killed you, but he preferred taking the risk of you reporting his location and ruining his plans. Why? That single question burned into your mind, and you couldn’t stop thinking about it, until you saw him again, two weeks later.

* * *

You had just busted a drug dealer selling meth, and was pressing the young boy into giving you the name of his boss. Sure, you were applying more force than necessary, but this was Gotham, talking would lead you nowhere in this city. As you slapped the boy on the face, you felt yourself being observed. You looked around, but you were in a cul-de-sac, empty but for you and the boy, the buildings had no windows. There was nowhere to watch you from. The boy begged you to let him go, claiming he didn’t know any names, only sold the drug, but you were on edge, and annoyed he wouldn’t give you what you needed, you slammed his body into the wall. You kicked him in the stomach and asked if he still didn’t remember. He didn’t. Finally you left, going back towards your police car. You were on your own that night, as your partner had been shot by Two-Face and was resting at home.

There was something stuck in the windscreen wiper, and you picked it up. A just taken Polaroid picture showing you and the kid. You turned to the alley, where he still laid on the floor, and then scanned again your surroundings.

“Is anyone there?”, you shouted. You pull your gun out of the holster, preparing to shoot at any threat. You are answered just by a guffaw. Truly, it was all the answer you needed. You followed the sound until you found the man standing in the doorway of an abandoned building, half hidden in the shadows.

“Liked my gift, officer?”, he asked, prolonging each syllable.

“Put your hands in the air”, you said, aiming the gun at his head. He didn’t even flinch.

“Why, I was hoping we could talk.” Even in the dark, you could see he was smiling. It was different than his signature smile, it wasn’t predatory. You would dare to say he was as intrigued by you as you were by him.

You lowered your gun, but didn’t return it to the holster. “Officer L/N”, you told him.

“Joker”, he said, as if it wasn’t obvious. He uncrossed his arms and you raised the gun again. But he hadn’t taken anything, he was just holding out his gloved hand for you. “My, my, my, just trying to be polite.”

You buffed and shook his hand, half expecting to receive a shock. He was known for pulling pranks. “Is there any more photos?”, you asked, letting go of him and stepping back.

“Commissioner Gordon wouldn’t be approving of your methods , would he?”

“They bring results”, you state. You didn’t care what Gordon would say. It wasn’t like anyone would tell him, everyone in your precinct used such methods. “Do you have any more copies?”, you ask again.

He smiles mischievously. “Maybe…”, he pulled a bunch of Polaroids from the pocket on his purple suit and held them out like a fan. You can’t see what are on them, since the pictures are facing him. “Let’s play a game, you answer a question, you get a photo? How ‘bout that?”

You didn’t like that. You didn’t like bargaining with the Devil. But you could only blame yourself, if you hadn’t let him go two weeks ago, then you would be home by now. “Alright. Fine, but not here. Let’s get some drinks”, you stated. If you were going to do this, you would need to get drunk first.

Turning on his heels, he laughed. “I know just the place.” He bowed, signaling for you to go first. His actions were rather theathical, but there was nothing inoffensive about him.

From time to time, he would say for you to turn left or right, and you could take a opportunity to steal a glance from him. You couldn’t help but notice the way he moved, like a hyena stalking its prey. And you were the gazelle.

* * *

He chose the crappiest bar in town. At least that was the only way you could describe the place. It smelled like cheap beer and cigarette, and some tough looking guys eyed you weirdly, seeing the uniform. But noticing your company, no one said anything.

You sat by a table on the very end of the bar, facing the front door. Cop habit, always watch your exits. A skimpy dressed waitress came and took your orders. Your long neck beer arrived and you removed the cap using your silver ring. You took a sip, and bitter liquid burning it’s way down your throat.

“So”, you said, crossing your hands over the table. “What do you want to know?”

“Oh, just the basics”, he said with a laughter. His beverage remained untouched. “Full name?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?” He nodded and you sighed, answering what he had asked.

“Camila”, he tastes the word on his tongue, making it sound almost lyrical. He slid a photograph across the table for you. You flipped it carefully, so no one else could see it. It was identical to the one he left on your car, taken less than seconds apart. You tucked it into your pocket. “How long have you been on a cop?”

“A year.”

“Fresh out of the Academy then! Tell me, am I your first super villain?”

You shake your head impatiently. “One question, one picture. Pay me before asking the next one”, you demanded.

He faked outrage. “I’m offended, I thought you trusted me. I am a man of my word”, he said placing a hand over his heart. He handed you another photo. “There. Will you answer now?”

“Yes. You were the first insane costumed criminal I crossed paths with.”

His eyes widen, fists slamming the table. “Insane?”, he scoffs. “I’m not insane. I have been told that perhaps I’m the most sane man in world. I understand how the world works: just a big ol’ joke”, he throws the next picture at you carelessly. “I thought you understood me… tsk tsk tsk. I have to say I’m disappointed, Camila.”

“Sorry”, you muttered. Not that you cared. He was insane after all, but he had something you wanted.

“Tell me, have you ever killed someone?”

The question makes you uncomfortable. Not because you are ashamed or regretful, but because telling him the truth would be risky. But, then again, who would believe the Joker? “Yes”, you say, a smile forming on the corner of your lips.

He hands you another Polaroid. He seems very interested on that story. “How?”

“Shot them in the head twice. Threw it in the river, no body no crime”, you tell him, matter of factually.

Another picture. “Who was it?”

“The man who mugged and killed my best friend”, as you tell him, the memories flood your mind. Your friend’s body covered in blood, you trying to close the wounds, the sirens of the ambulance that didn’t get there in time, the cake you had bought crushed under the feet of the paramedics, the ruined birthday decoration, your hands covered in blood, tears on your face. The obsession with finding the person responsible, the mugger who didn’t even remember his victim, you kicking him until his teeth feel off, you pulling the trigger twice, you pushing the body into the river, your hands covered in blood, a wicked smile on your face.

“Ohh”, he cheers, “revenge. Beautiful”, he claps his hands and gives you the next picture. “Good, only three left. Let’s make them worthy, shall we? Why didn’t you arrest me?”

You hesitate. “I don’t know”, you shrug, “it just felt the right thing to do.” You’ve emptied your beer and when the waitress passed by, you ordered another.

“Why did you become a cop?”

You drink half of the new beer and laugh. “That’s easy. Because I wanted to do justice. But no one had told me that justice belongs in fairy tales. In real life there’s only power.”

“I knew you understood”, he held the last photo on his hand, waving it to you. “Last one”, he gave a dramatic pause before looking deep into your eyes and asking, red mouth forming the words loud and clear, this was the only question that truly mattered. “Are you single?”

You take the last gulp of your beer. “Yes”, you confess, cheeks blushing. It had been a long time since you were romantically or sexually involved with anyone. Joker hums, approving your answer. With the nine pictures on your possession, there’s nothing stopping you from leaving. And you should do just that, but he is like a magnet, pulling you closer. You get up and ask, “Walk me to my car?”

You put the money on the table to pay for your drinks. He raises from his seat and offers you an arm, like a gentleman. You take his offer and you two walk back to where you came from. Once you reach the car, you pull all of the pictures from your pockets and reach for the lighter inside the vehicle.

“Light it up”, you say, giving him the lighter. He does just that, the edges of the Polaroids taking fire and burning. As the heat becomes too much, you drop the photos on the floor and watch as the fire consumes them, until just ember is left.

#joker #joker x reader #joker/reader #joker imagine #dc #reader

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kaspbrak-tozier-reddie · 5 years ago

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You Engraved This? AU

Bear with me, I don’t usually do this sort of thing with ships. I do skip a bit 😂

Requests open

Trigger Warnings: swear, mentions of blood, death, homophobia.

Spoilers

———————————————————————

As Richie goes out in search for his token, he walked past the old arcade, that is now boarded up. “Oh no.” Richie muttered to himself. He knew what would happen as soon as he would enter the grime old place, he would relive the moment that deterred him away from arcades forever.

The door creaked open and sure enough he was suffocated by the dust and cobwebs that covered the interior.

His mind filled in the blanks.

A reasonably cute, dirty blonde haired boy was playing Street Fighter and Richie had basically asked him out in a friendly manner. Except the boy was a homophobe and took Richie’s kind gesture the wrong way. Not only that but he was cousin to Henry Bowers.

“It’s not real.” Adult Richie said to himself imagining far more than he bargained for. He saw the scene happen right in front of him as if he were in a 3D film. But Pennywise didn’t want to stop.

Richie grabs the gaming token and heads out to the giant statue. And there sat Pennywise on the shoulder of lumberjack statue. “I know your secret.” Pennywise tormented, just like he did 27 years ago.

Richie badly wanted to scream to the supernatural being (that was obviously not there) that he loved Eddie, no longer caring, but nothing came out. He knew that the town was just as homophobic as it was when he was a kid. He knew he would be shamed, even as an adult.

The fear came back, he wanted to leave but he couldn’t leave the Losers especially Eddie. So he went back to the inn with the intention with taking a roadtrip with his best friend and leaving the hell hole that Derry was.

****

The Losers Club enter the entry of the sewers. “Is that rope still safe?” Bev asked.

“Only one way to find out.” Mike said. Fear crept onto everyone but the adults pushed it aside. They needed to be brave so that their fear didn’t make them vulnerable to Pennywise.

Mike went down first with Richie heading down last. Richie looked directly atEddie as soon as his feet touched the ground. The hidden fear in Eddie’s eyes made his heart ache. He reached for Eddie’s hand but instantly chickened out.

Eddie was married, to a woman! Dammit Richard, get your shit together

But then he felt someone grab his hand, he looked down and sure enough it was Eddie’s. “I don’t remember there being this much water.” Ben said. Richie and Eddie pulled their hands away.

“It flooded years ago.” Mike replied. The 6 of them started swimming towards the pile of junk that sat in the middle of the sewer. They all had made it onto the wood pile except Bev. She disappeared from the surface and immediately the losers dived back in to sesrch for her. All but Eddie, that is.

He had a horrible feeling that one of them was gonna die. He wasn’t prepared for what was about to happen in that lair. “Right, down we go.” Mike said. One by one they went down.Eddie hesitated, he felt Richie grab his arm, stopping him.

“You’re braver than you think Eds.” Richie had said to the other man.

“He’s right Eddie. And this, this arrow. If you believe, you can kill any monster.” Beverly said handing him the arrow. Eddie nodded, he took a deep breath and followed to two into Pennywise’s home.

It was gloomy, slimy and claustrophobic. It was an unsettling place. It was like a visual representation of Pennywise’s personality.

Cold, grim and creepy.

Mike led them to where they were going to do the ritual. “Everyone got their tokens?” Mike asked, the rest of them nodded. One by one they threw their objects in.

Richie wanted to be beside Eddie. He saw the fear that Eddie trued to conceal. He wanted to comfort him. “Is that from the arcade?” Eddie asked Richie.

“Huh? Oh uh, yeah.” Richie replied tossing the small coin into the metal bin.

“It’s not going to burn!”

“It will when it meets your fucking inhaler!”

“It still won’t burn.”

“There are chemicals in that inhaler, Eduardo!”

“Guys, this is not the time to fight each other!” Bev yelled.

“Sh-sh-she’s right, guys.” Bill backed Bev up.

After they threw Stan’s token, the shower cap, the next step of the ritual began.

That’s when Mike screams for them to shut their eyes.

Fear crept onto the group of adults but Richie felt a deeper fear. He didn’t want to die without telling Eddie. Heaven forbid! If Eddie died, Richie didn’t want Eddie to leave him without him knowing how Richie truely felt.

That’s when a red balloon appeared in the centre of the circle. The Losers scrambled away from the growing balloon. Richie and Eddie immediately went for each other.

“Wanna tell them why the ritual didn’t work, Mike?” Pennywise chuckled.

Mike was quiet, he knew why but he couldn’t bring himself to see the disappointment on their faces.

“Wanna play truth or dare Richie?” Pennywise tried again. “Wanna tell them your dirty little secret?”

The cogs in Richie’s mind starred turning faster and faster until he couldn’t contain his anger he needed to do something but fear crept onto him.

He did the thing that they all agreed not to do.

He made himself vulnerable.

****

During the fight, Richie and Eddie found themselves running in a dark tunnel. The two men came to a halt as they found themseves in frint of 3 doors with words written in blood. “‘Scary’, ‘not scary’, ‘very scary’?” Richie read out loud. He gingerly walked towards the ‘Very Scary’ door. He gripped Eddie’s wrist a little tighter as they opened the door.

As the door creaked opened, the two were faced with a closet and half a torso. With a scream they slammed the door. “‘Not Scary’?” Eddie asked.

“Why not.” Richie replied. They ran to the final door.

They were met with a ginger fluff ball. “Awe.” The two exclaimed simultaneously. They started obsessing over the small fluffy animal, telling it how cute it was. In the process, completely ignoring the sound of IT’s extension that was coming towards them.

“Sit!” Richie commanded. The small Pomeranian sat. “Good boy.”

The scraping of the sharp extension drew closer but the men were still caught up in the dog.

But alas! It was too good too be true, the dog turned out to be a monster. Much to Richie’s disappointment.

They regained their breath from running and Richie announced, “when we get outta here, we’re adopting a dog!”

Richie miraculously finds the strength and picks up a reasonably large rock, thinking that he could distract Pennywise from his friends. “Yipee Kayay Motherfu-“ Richie screamed before he was caught in the deadlights.

****

It was white for a split second before Richie saw a vision. It was sort of clear, everything had fuzzy edges though.

He was in IT’s lair only brighter. He saw all his friends screaming at the creature, attempting to belittle the creature. But he couldn’t see Eddie or himself , he tried to move but he was stuck, he turned his head to the right and sure enough there was Eddie, bleeding from his abdomen and Richie holding the wound.

He wondered how Eddie ended up in that position. Sure enough, Pennywise took him 5 minites earlier.

He saw himself get saved by Eddie but what shocked him was that he watched himself kissing Eddie. But just as they come apart, Eddie is impaled.

Richie watched as Eddie’s blood was spurted onto his clothes and face (glasses included). He watched himsef cry out in agony.

If he ever made it out of the deadlights, his mission was to keep Eddie from the psychotic clown and tell him how he feels!

****

“Huh?” Richie regained consciousness, he saw his best friend and life long crush, hovering over him. “Oh my God! Eddie!” He hugged him but that was over within a second.

That’s when he remembered what he just saw in the desdlights. He pulled Eddie away, hiding in the cave they were just in. “I saved you!” Eddie screamed excitedly. Eddie’s excitement disappeared when he looked at Richie’s concerned face. “What did you see in the deadlights?”

“You getting impaled. Wasn’t going to let that happen.” Richie replied hesitantly. That’s when he saw the fear in Eddie’s eyes and he knew he’d start hyperventilating shortly. “Focus on me okay. Block out any fear.” Richie handed Eddie the spare inhaler that he took from Eddie’s bag before they left the inn.

****

“We should go before we’re arrested for destruction.” Bill said, everyone snapped their heads towards the previous ringleader. “What?”

“You didn’t stutter once.” Richie said.

“You said that the last time, before we defeated IT as kids.” Eddie pointed to Richie. They all laughed.

It was like 27 years earlier. Heading towards the Quarry to hang out. The nostalgia that they felt as they walked the route but something told them that they would not forget each other this time. They were no longer afraid of the things that Pennywise feasted upon. Their bond was even stronger than it was back when they were kids.

As the group was nearing the entrance to the Quarry. Richie said, “We’ll meet you at the Quarry. I’ve got to show Eds something.” He pulled Eddie a little further up the road towards the kissing bridge.

“Richard?” Eddie question Richie as he saw Richie finishing off a carving. There was half a faint ‘E’ written beside an obvious ‘R’. “When did you start this engraving?”

It would’ve been clear to anyone walking past that the ‘R’ and the ‘+’ looked as though they had been carved decades ago.

“When Bowers caught me checking out his cousin and called me a fag in front of the whole arcade. Oh and that was right before my encounter with Pennywise and his worse rendition of what Bowers said.” Richie replied. “I realised they were both right. I just didn’t want to believe I was gay, especially with being in a town like Derry.”

“I’m proud of you, opening up about your sexuality. But, um, you liked me when we were 13?!”

“Thanks and uh yeah I did, still do.” Richie gulped and muttered to himself, “In fact, I think it might be love now.”

“You hesitated before when I asked so I could only assume there’s more.” Eddie took a breath. “What else did you see in the deadlights?”

Richie sighed heavily and braced himself.

“I uh, I kissed you and Pennywise. He uh, he took the opportunity to kill you. Well actually, he made it a slow death.” Richie choked on his spit and tried to fight the tears. “I couldn’t let that happen. You’re my best friend, even if we didn’t remember each other for 27 years. You’re still my best friend Eds.”

“Let’s head back to the others.”

A cloud of disappointment hovered above Richie as they walked back towards the Quarry.

I knew I shouldn’t have told him. I’m an idiot! He’s married. Dammit Richie!!

He ducked under the fence and ran toward the cliff, jumping into the gross water below. Eddie followed after him.

He completely ignored Eddie, not wanting to wait for him before swimming over to the others sitting on the bank.

****

Eddie looked at the tall dark haired man. It was clear that Richie was upset, he was hunched over and didn’t care that his glasses were almost off his nose. He felt bad for dismissing Richie’s admission of love. He didn’t mean to, it was just too much.

But he started putting the pieces together, starting back from that Summer. Not only did Richie go to him when his parents were giving him a harsh time or when he couldn’t sleep. It was that particular day at the clubhouse.

The day when Eddie sat in the hammock with him because Richie refused to move. Richie clearly did that on purpose, not to mention his hand on his leg.

He thinked back to every single action of Richie’s but more importantly his own. Eddie knew he liked guys, that was no lie, but his mother made him marry Myra.

Eddie couldn’t pinpoint the day but he remembered when he bought Richie an icecream. He loved hugging and cuddling with Richie at 3am. He had always thought Richie was hot, even if he annoyed the shit outta him.

Eddie gasped loudly, catching the attention of every loser. Richie even looked up. “What?” Bev asked. Not wanting to face the others, Eddie looked down to avoid eye contact.

“I liked you too, Richie, I, uh, I still do.” Eddie said.

“Eds don’t – ” Richie began.

“Don’t call me Eds.” Eddie stated. “I didn’t want to admit it. But those cuddles we shared as kids, the egging you on was because I wanted your attention asshole!”

“The ‘I fucked your mom’ jokes were to get you attention!” Richie exclaimed.

“You’re both oblivious! We’ve known for years!” Bill yelled.

Ben and Beverly laughed and swam away, Mike and Bill then left, leaving Riche with Eddie. Eddie waded through the shallow water towards Richie.

“What will you do about Myra?” Richie asked.

“I’m divorcing her. I never loved her. Mom forced me to date her when I came out.” Eddie admitted. “Said, I was sick and that Myra would help.”

“I know I offered it to you once before we graduate high school and you said no but, come with me back to Cali.”

Eddie smiled and nodded, he kissed Richie. “I would love that, boyfriend. Oh and we can even adopt a pomeranian.” Richie laughed and kissed his boyfriend again.

“Boyfriend?” Richie giggled.

“We waited long enough, eh?” The two laughed.

#reddie #richie x eddie #eddie x richie #benverly #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #bill denbrough #stanley uris #IT chapter 1 #IT chapter 2 #kaspbrak tozier reddie

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mittensmorgul · 5 years ago

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15.01 Back And To The Future rewatch notes

Note to anyone reading: I’ve already written a mishmosh of other posts addressing stuff in this episode, so this post is not a comprehensive list of every important or interesting thing in 15.01. This post is “things I haven’t otherwise talked about elsewhere yet” or “things I’ve been meaning to talk about in more detail but haven’t yet,” or “things I’d otherwise be compelled to write into the transcript doc in the other tab and really really shouldn’t.” Because that’s actually the purpose of this particular rewatch-- writing up the transcript. Which is happening in the other tab. :P

(i’m gonna go post the transcript now, so it should be up as soon as I get all the html un-screw-ified... >.>)

That said, let’s gooooo!

well, under a cut because long-ish >.>

I already talked about the song choice, and the fact it was the opening montage music in 9.10 (rip Lamp-- yes, this song has forever been the imaginary background music to Lamp/Other Lamp, sorry, the brain wants what the brain wants). It also reminded me of 11.04, the Night Moves scene, combined with Dean’s joke about how Piper brushed Sam off without giving him her number, and Dean replied “We got tonight, who needs tomorrow,” where Sam asks Dean if everything is a Bob Seger song to him. Because, heh, here have another Bob Seger song summing up the end of the road here.

But I love how the lyrics MATCH UP with the action in this opening scene.

♪It's been a long time since you smiled♪ [zombies circle around TFW cutting off their chance of escape] Chuck: Story's over. Welcome to the End. [Cas kneels over Jack's body] ♪Seems like oh, so long ago♪ --NOW-- [in the graveyard, the scene picks up where 14.20 left off, and the music continues uninterrupted from the Road So Far montage. TFW battle a zombie horde, as we zoom out from Jack's burned out eyes and the fighting rages on] ♪And now the stage has all been set♪ ♪And the nights are growing cold♪ ♪Soon the winter will be here♪ ♪And there's no one warm to hold♪ ♪Now the lines have all been read♪ Cas: Sam! Dean! ♪And you knew them all by heart♪ ♪Now you move toward the door♪ [Cas picks up Jack's body and runs, leading the way out of the zombie fight. Sam and Dean follow, dodging monsters and graves] ♪Here it comes the hardest part♪ ♪Try the handle of the road♪ Sam [spotting potential refuge]: Dean, this way! ♪Feeling different, feeling strange♪ ♪This can never be arranged♪ ♪From the famous final scene♪

Then there’s the DRAMATIC ZOOM in on Dean that literally cuts Cas out of the shot as Dean reacts to his line that “Well, I wouldn’t starve.” Like that was the moment Dean began to literally shut Cas out, because he feels that line was Cas shutting HIM out. So instead of trying to deal with any of that because ZOMBIES TRYING TO BREAK DOWN THE DOOR is a more immediate concern, he turns his back and goes on his little tirade about Chuck. Like he was reliving that moment he got to smash Chuck’s guitar and wishes he could do it again.

And then we meet Belphegor, who already has a rather hopping tag on my blog, so I’m gonna… just move on a bit from here…

I am in pain over this callback to Bloody Mary, with the teenage girls who seem far younger than the girls from the original. These girls are far more innocent. They didn’t call up bloody Mary, they have no guilt of having killed anyone on their souls. Bloody Mary just… showed up. And tortured and killed them.

But this parallel was twisted. In the original, the girls’ father apparently gave their mother an overdose of sleeping pills that led to her death. in the new version, one of the girls’ parents just got divorced and was compensating by going on a shopping spree and buying everything her daughter wanted. These girls were laughing, loving what that divorce brought them.

It’s sort of a more cheerful parallel to Dean and Cas’s fracturing relationship over their dead son’s body…Well, more cheerful until Bloody Mary kills them, anyway.

Sam learns there’s no sudden worldwide zombie outbreak, so the incident seems localized to that one graveyard.

And at this point I started a THIRD thing I’m working on at the same time, because two was apparently not enough. I think I’m gonna copy/paste that stuff here, instead. It’s about the Three Ghosts of this episode-- each parallelled directly to one of TFW. Bloody Mary was one, and in this episode she was Cas’s parallel. It’s her victims Cas will find-- two little girls who never deserved the fate Bloody Mary dished out to them. But Mary Worthington had been murdered herself, and her killer never caught. So she originally killed people who kept secrets about others’ deaths as a form of revenge against her own killer. In trying to protect others, she became a killer herself. And heck if that’s not painfully Cas… or something he feels he’s painfully failed to do, to protect the Winchesters from having to do horrific things. And he DID sell his own potential future happiness in exchange for Jack’s life, only to have just watched Jack die horrifically. His sacrifice, again, has amounted to nothing.

In this episode, she follows Cas from the house, through mirrors, and reappears in a dark pond to grab at the mother and child Sam had already saved from John Wayne Gacy (yeah, I’ll type that one up next, but let’s finish this first...). So there’s a being now watching Cas from the depths of a dark pool, waiting to reach up and grab him when he finally feels safe. Sounds like… the Shadow.

So on to Sam vs Clowns. Sam’s direct parallel is the ghost of John Wayne Gacy, in clown costume, that he formerly burned in 14.13. In an episode where he was about to come face to face with his own past in the form of John Winchester suddenly appearing in the bunker, torn from the past. It’s an episode where Sam and Dean find peace with who they’ve become, and lay a ghost of their past to rest.

With the Equalizer wound humming along, affecting Sam in mysterious ways we’ve only begun to glimpse, and Sam’s brief flash of himself with black eyes apparently hurting Dean, it’s hard NOT to think of the parallel that Clowns have always held for Sam-- Lucifer. Heck I’ve written about that recently, or at least it feels like I have… but at the end of this episode, Sam stops and looks Gacy in the face and tells him to shut up. Which is something Sam has ALSO said to Lucifer (or at least a hallucination of Lucifer). The infamous “HE SAID SHUT UP TO ME!” of Hallucifer in 7.15, which ended Sam’s ability to shut out the hallucination by squeezing the cut on his hand.

Now on to Dean’s parallel ghost: Constance Welch, aka the Woman in White from 1.01. A woman who was the first ghost of the entire series, who Sam literally drove into her house to “take her home,” where she had to face what she’d done to her own children. She’d killed her own children in a moment of grief after her husband cheated on her, and then killed herself.

Dean had been moments from killing Jack in 14.20, in a moment of grief, but didn’t. Yet he’s now having some serious issues with Cas throughout this episode and by the end, they’re “frosty.”

Belphegor, with Dean, looks for a human heart to use in their spell, and stumble across one of Constance’s victims. Belphegor rips out his heart and holds it up to Dean, when Constance appears. She recognizes Dean from 1.01, who made her go home, and attacks him. Then tries to attack Belphegor, and actually injures his hand.

But this is the ghost Dean is paired with. He drives her off, and Belphegor does the spell to contain the ghosts by putting the heart in a pile of salt.

Okay, now where was I in these notes… right… Town, where Sam and Dean play FBI, trying to stop a benzene pipeline leak. And wow, what a weird story, right? Sheriff was confused, but helped evacuate the townspeople to safety.

I think it’s interesting that this was intended to be another stopgap measure, like putting Jack in the box in 14.19, because they know this spell won’t hold forever, and they know they have no other reasonable way to fix the problem. But they can try to buy some time, and hope they’ll come up with a better solution before things go sideways.

Dean asks Cas to help Belphegor do the spell thing, but Cas refuses, and goes to work with Sam instead, leaving Dean to deal with the demon possessing Jack. Which leads to all sorts of interesting conversations between them… I think I’ve written and/or reblogged enough posts on the queer subtext… er… text even… of these scenes to just point out here that it exists, and is heavy.

Meanwhile Cas and Sam go house to house looking for people they need to evacuate, and encounter the above ^^ ghosts.

So Dean’s stuck with the demon fanboy who admires what Dean did in Hell, and Dean seems pretty uncomfortable about this, but it’s not like he has a choice, you know? Who else is gonna do this? Cas couldn’t, Sam’s already on the other gig, and that leaves Dean. So… instead of denying what he’d done, he brushed it off as “a long time ago.” And then actually asked what the situation in Hell was like. The answer Belphegor gave is… interesting.

Belphegor: You ever seen an ant hill when it's, like, set on fire? [lol no, according to Dean’s wtf face] Okay, well, there we were, minding our own business, you know, flaying people for eternity, like you do, right? And then every door in Hell just sprang open all at once. You know? Souls got out. Sky cracked. And, uh, boom, ta-da, you know?

So all the gates are open, including the Cage, but Michael’s apparently still just sitting there. Which is worrisome. But my question is, if all the gates are open, yet the entire planet isn’t flooding with demons and souls, ONLY through the direct portal into that graveyard, how can what Belphegor said be true? At least, theoretically… But that’s a question for another day, when we have more canon to understand.

So… Dean has to face Constance, who flings him into a dumpster. Which makes me lol think about 1.01 and Dean flinging himself off a bridge to get away from her, and ended up covered in mud.

Cas’s “It’s one ghost,” *two more ghosts appear* “It’s three.” reminded me of “I got this,” “I don’t got this.”

Sam accidentally shooting Cas because the ghost got between the two of them horrifyingly reminds me of 12.17 and Eileen accidentally shooting Mr. Top of his Class at Kendricks when Dagon deliberately came between the two of them. At least Cas is salt-proof, you know?

Belphegor calling out Bad Ghost! kinda reminds me of Dean’s “Here ghostie ghostie ghostie” from 4.13. But REALLY. A demon, who tortures souls for fun and profit, yet can’t do anything more than weakly scold a ghost like a misbehaving puppy? INTERESTING. Because it’s Dean that has to whack her with a metal rod, while Belphegor ends up with deep gouges in his hand that are clearly causing him pain.

Dean hurls the name Casper at Constance before he whacks her, which is also a callback to 1.01. It was Sam who called him out for shooting at her with regular bullets: “What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?” Lol that he remembered that.

Sam pulled a “I’ll hold them off, I’ll hold them all off” hopeless move when he sent Cas away, like Cas once did in 4.22 when he sent Dean away to stop Sam… but Sam actually got out in one piece, even though his gun was empty.

Sam picks up the little girl and runs as fast as he can and only looks back once he’s outside and safe. Like “take your brother outside as fast as you can and don’t look back”

I already wrote about the callback of Dean distracting Sam from tending to his wound with the cut-off joke, reminding me of the scene in 4.09 of Sam doing something similar while fixing Dean’s dislocated shoulder.

And then we have the realization that they’ve never really had free will, just limited choices because of the circumstances Chuck put them in. Sam is unrealistically optimistic that it means that Chuck’s actually gone, now. But that’s the hope he’s holding on to in order to get through this horror.

So this… is what they’re setting up as the guidemap to the series finale. Specifically, Sam and Dean must finally earn their way free. The ghostpocalypse is just step one, and not the true end. There’s still Heaven and Hell to deal with (though Heaven is mostly empty of angels and Hell seems to be actively crumbling now). And Michael, whenever he gets around to walking out of the cage. I’m sure that will go great! Unhinged archangel on the loose! But those are all minor distractions compared with Chuck, because he hasn’t really gone anywhere.

And we still don’t know what Actual Jack, Billie, and the Shadow are up to in the Empty, in their secret meeting in a realm that Chuck has no power. And what about Amara? How does she feel about this now that she’s grown fond of creation? I think there’s a much bigger game afoot than just a ghostpocalypse.

Meanwhile, Sam’s quote here is still setting up the final scene of the series: When we win this, God's gone. Hm. There's no one to screw with us. There's no more maze. It's just us. And we're free.

That’s the goal.

#spn s15 spoilers #spn 15.01

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