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bukojuiice · 4 years ago

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fix you.

ೃ pairing: (village prince! katsuki bakugo x princess mononoke! reader)

ೃ tags: princess mononoke au! studio ghibli au!

ೃ warnings: mild use of weapons and strong language

ೃ part 1/2 of the princess mononoke! au

ೃ word count 4.119 words

ೃ 2/??? of @bukojuiice’s studio ghibli au

ೃ my nav → my mha writing masterlist → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ Loosely based off of Princess Mononoke! Not necessarily a word for word retelling/alternate universe. You can read on without any prior knowledge of this beautiful Studio Ghibli film. Hope you enjoy!

ೃ if you want to be part of this studio ghibli au taglist, send me an ask! or if you want to be a part of my mha taglist in general, send me an ask indicating whichever you want to be a part of!

ೃ please do reblog if you enjoyed!! (feel free to add tags too because i love reading them and my heart swells with happiness when people love my work!)

ೃ shoto todoroki’s fic (howl’s moving castle au) for those of you who want to read the first in this series!

ೃ taglist: @chibishae34 @sparkykatsuki @ramunegoddess

ೃ Katsuki Bakugo is the righteous yet arrogant village prince of the east. The entire village relies on him for protection and for guidance, further inflating his ego. however, after a cursed boar attacks him and the curse is passed on to him as a poisonous mark on his arm, slowly consuming him until he becomes a demon himself. he is exiled without hesitance from his village and is to go on a journey to look for a cure, a journey he might never come back from. With the help of two of his most trusted allies, he embarks on a journey to look for the gods of the forest in where he meets a girl (just as striking as him) who brings him back down to earth, saves him and make him experience a true life worth living.

“Damn this life.” Katsuki curses under his breath, rolling up his sleeves, and collecting clear water from the riverbend and transferring it into his jar.

“Hey! This isn’t that bad!” Eijiro Kirishima, son of the second in command to Katsuki’s mother, his most trusted ally and #2 most annoying fucker on this planet, cheekily grins, patting the blonde on the back. “We’ve gone through worse things in the past. And yet here we are! We’re still alive! Aren’t we?”

“Yea! We’ll find the forest gods soon! Offer food for them and hopefully they give us a cure! This is going to be easy!” Denki Kaminari, another one of his most trusted allies, grandson of one of the wise elders, and #1 most annoying fucker on this planet, reassures his friend whilst aimlessly fixing the saddle on his elk.

Why did life have to be like this?

Who did Katsuki Bakugo infuriate from high above to have this tremendous bad luck and fate be put upon him? All he wanted was to live a noble life as a village prince, have his mother pass down her position of power onto him, become the new village chief, live a life of prosperity, help his people, and then pass away with no regrets. But life just had to do this to him no?

After an unexpected attack of a raging cursed boar consumed by black slithering enigmas in the hills of Mustafu village, the handsome village prince was the only one able of combat who was around the vicinity at the time. He had no choice but to hurl himself in front of the boar, shooting one of his famed arrows, sharper than most and one of the best in his arsenal. The boar had met its demise by his hands. However, not without getting revenge at Katsuki, by passing its curse onto him. The black ooze slithering onto his arm before the animal had fully perished.

That was the worst day of his life.

As the son of the village chief and as one of the most well-known individuals in his tribe, how was he supposed to react?

Katsuki had always been number one. Never once slipping to loss or to failure. Never getting injured. Never letting his guard down. Never disappointing his parents. Never losing his pride nor his mighty personality.

He was the paragon of success.

But, sometimes, the best people feel lost and useless too.

The fact that his mother had easily let go of him, have the wise villager elders speak ill of him and banish him, having to leave everything he had loved and worked hard for, lose his position as a prince, and have the people of his village look at him in abhorrence and disgust, had ended up becoming the most painful experiences he ever had to go through in his entire life.

Leaving quietly at the dead of the night with no proper goodbyes but a brief hug, gift of a good luck charm from his mother, and the willing accompaniment of his two most trusted friends (although he would not like to admit the appreciation he has for them, he was very grateful) on this fruitless journey… He could never have it any other way.

What kind of life was he even going to lead from here on forth?

He didn’t want to stop believing. He didn’t want to lose hope. This wasn’t like him. Katsuki Bakugo knew who he was. He knows how headstrong he is, how prideful, persevering, and how much of a smart-ass he is. He had no time to sulk and contemplate about his demise and what fate had in store for him.

Although, it would be nice if he could release all these pent-up emotions and frustrations at least once. Just once.

He just has no idea how to and who to open up to.

Putting his vulnerable emotions aside, he is going to defy his destiny and take down whatever may come his way.

Making sure no one was going to stop him from doing so.

“Let’s go.” Katsuki jerks his head, gesturing his party members to start walking to the other side of the forest.

“Wait… haven’t we gone there already?” Kaminari protests, not raising his voice nor overreacting because even he knew that Katsuki was on a bad mood as per usual. (With this being the second afternoon of their journey and because they have to leave their animal companions by the river due to how unstable the geographical and terrestrial properties of the forest were.)

Katsuki shoots him a glare, the other blonde clearing the lump in his throat in response. “Okay okay! Let’s go then!”

They quietly navigate through the forest, hearing nothing but the sound of their own feet stepping on the grass, crickets chirping, fireflies flying about, the towering trees swaying with the wind, and the calming yet lonely atmosphere of the woodlands to accompany them.

“Kirishima.” Bakugo calls out coldly. “Are you sure that this is the same forest depicted in the legends?”

“Positive.” Kirishima replies, nodding aimlessly whilst turning his head and taking in their surroundings. “If we spot some Kodama, that means we’re near the tree that stands alone.”

“Tree that stands alone?” Denki asks, tilting his head and sparking a discussion. “Also, what even is a Kodama?”

“You’re the grandson of a village elder yet you’re asking me?” Eijiro narrows his eyes at his other blonde friend. “Kodama are the little white spirits who live in trees. They don’t necessarily guide travelers but instead watch them. They only intervene if ever anything bad happens. If we see them appear then that means we’re close to the spiritual core of the forest. The tree that gives life.”

Yakushima Forest. Located in the southern region, is the settlement of the forest gods and the place where the oldest trees of Japan and those known to man stand strongly. The power and the spiritual energy stored in this wonderous and enchanting forest could only be seen and could only be discovered by heroes and travelers with a pure of heart as the forest was welcoming only to visitors with pure and selfless intentions. However, to those who wish to exploit it and to ruin its beauty will be punished heavily by the gods in the most gruesome ways possible.

Katsuki breathes out a hefty sigh, leading his two other friends who were happily following him from behind. There was this bizarre feeling of anxiety welling up inside him. He was not himself and he couldn’t tell why. All he could do was pretend to remain calm and collected…

He will find that cure.

He will be able to save himself and he will be able to come back to his village, victorious and free of the curse.

Bakugo stops in his tracks when they encounter another streaming river. His two companions almost bump into him with how abrupt he halted in his steps.

There was something amiss in the river.

It wasn’t a bad spirit nor was it some bad energy, but Katsuki could feel something.

There was someone else there.

And he felt that they weren’t exactly the friendly type who would help them.

“Bakugo-sama, why did we stop-“ Kaminari is hushed by his blonde friend before he could even have the chance to utter another word. Kirishima quickly picked up what Katsuki is trying to motion to them and proceeds to quietly scout around the area. “There’s a girl? Wolves too.” He whispers from behind a bush not far from where his friends were standing.

“Let’s go back to the nearby village. Stay at the inn there.” Bakugo whispers sternly, as if not wanting to hear any other remarks from his friends.

“Wait! Bakugo, I know we’re near the tree. Why stop now!?” Kirishima fussed. He knew something was up. “We’re pretty close. We can just set up a fire here then-“

“I said let’s head back. Damn it.” Katsuki repeated his words. This time, in a sort of a growl. “If you don’t want to go back, feel free to die here if you want.” He starts treading back to the path where they came from. Denki looks at his red-headed friend worriedly, even he, of all people, had finally noticed that there was something wrong with their most beloved village prince. Kirishima nods at him cautiously, the two of them walking together behind Bakugo.

They quickly got back to the small village near the forest with no interruption, as the chit-chatter and the energy radiating between both Kirishima and Kaminari were low as Katsuki was in a even terrible mood, refusing to talk to any of them nor humoring their antics and small jokes.

They continue to spend the rest of their day in silence. With, Katsuki, immediately heading back to his quarters to rest whilst his two other companions remained outside to help some village folk and prepare dinner.

The village chieftain of the quaint settlement had a good relationship with Katsuki’s mother. They were good trade partners and the village chief wanted to do everything in their power to help Katsuki be free of the curse by the means of giving him a private inn to stay in and come back to whenever he and his friends would like to. It wasn’t much, but Katsuki needed all the help he could get on this otherwise hopeless quest. Even if he refused the said offers at first.

After another awfully quiet bonding time with Bakugo at dinner, the convivial duo had to break the silence. Denki had thought of the most wonderful idea of bringing up the topic of the girl who was accompanied by wolves in the forest. Because, hey, it’s a girl in the forest! What could possibly be weird about that?

“Hey! So about that girl that we saw…” Kaminari suddenly speaks up, nudging Kirishima in the arm, signaling him to answer his query. Bakugo barely looks up at the sound of his friend’s yapping, continuing to play with the food on his bowl. “Who do you think was she?”

“She’s most probably the wolf princess.” Eijiro shrugs casually, biting on a roasted corncob. “Yakushima forest is protected by the three animal gods whom we know by now as the forest gods. The Wolf goddess, The Gorilla king, and The Deer god. The Deer god being the most powerful of them all. There have been rumors and reports going around that the goddess had taken in an abandoned human girl, and was treated as one of their kin years ago. The girl holds pure resentment for her own kind and chooses to live in the Yakushima forest, taking down every single human who has negative intentions and evil plans for the land she lives in.”

“Well, if she’s that badass, then you shouldn’t call her a princess. She’s a queen!” Kaminari remarks, biting on his newly roasted corncob, listening eagerly to Kirishima’s tale. Bakugo looks up at Denki and the goofy blonde could have sworn he saw a small smile form on Katsuki’s face.

Kirishima laughs at his friend’s little quip, “You’re right. She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

“You weirdos should get to sleep. We go back to the forest first thing in the morning.” Katsuki stands up from his seat, his hands in his pockets, grumpily trotting away to the inn.

“Oh.” Denki blinks. “That was faster than I thought. I didn’t expect him to be convinced so easily. Did you pull that story from your ass Kirishima-kun?”

The red-haired teen shook his head. “Nope. All of that was real.”

“For real? You’re not joking?”

“Yup.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Goodnight then!” The other blonde leaves his seat, patting Eijiro in the arm before leaving and going back to his quarters.

Kirishima looks up at the glistening night sky, a few stars present in the sky to greet him a wonderful night, the boy hoping he would find an answer amongst the stars. “May the gods help us in our adventure.” He breathes a hefty sigh, closing his eyes. After a few more minutes of praying for guidance, he puts out the fire and retreats back to his room.

The night passes by quickly, another day of their adventure waiting to unfold.

“Don’t you dare come back here you disgusting prince.”

“No one wants him here! Got it? Let him go on this adventure and never come back!”

“He’s just a burden. To be cursed by an animal as simple as a boar? Pathetic.”

“Useless vermin.”

“Banished forever? How sad.”

“A prince falling from grace? Predictable.”

The voices of the village people echo in his head.

These were words from them that he was not meant to hear. Ones that he accidentally heard before leaving that same night. These were the words that will haunt him forever.

He, Katsuki Bakugo, of all people, would let all these horrid, vile, and false words get to him?

These were the same words with the same meaning that he’s heard hundreds and hundreds of times from different people, yet it never got to him. He chose to ignore them.

But, why now? What was going on? Why was he feeling this way?

Katsuki awakens at the dead of the night. Beads of sweat falling from his temples, his breath hitched and his body aching. He was not himself right now and this intense feeling of uneasiness and torment confirmed it. Although, he wanted to keep this to himself. He didn’t want anybody else to know what he was feeling. He could overcome this on his own. He could do this all on his own.

“I’ll show them.” He continues to breathe at a fast pace, still a bit shocked by the nightmare he had just seen. “I’ll fucking show them that I am the prince of the Mustafu tribe.” He props himself up from his sleeping mat, reaching for his neatly folded clothes beside him. “And nothing’s going to change that.”

Katsuki begins to get dressed, feeling nothing but anger and determination running through his veins. He puts on his grey vest and wraps his red cape onto his back. He continues to put on his ensemble when a sudden rush of pain begins to throb in his arm. Bakugo’s immediate reaction is to curl up, holding his stomach to try and ease the pain.

The curse was acting up again, reacting to the anger and negative emotions that Katsuki was feeling right now. The blonde winces in pain, kneeling down on the floor to take a hold of his arm that was manifesting a glowing blue and black aura. His muscle continues to throb and he could do nothing but hold it down and take in all the pain until it eventually goes away.

After several minutes of resisting and trying to ease the pain by thinking of more positive and enlightening thoughts, the throbbing suddenly stops. Bakugo goes back to breathing at a normal pace. He rests for a few minutes, making sure that his body was functioning properly once more before he quickly heads out of his private room to head to back to Yakushima forest, searching for answers. He didn’t have time to wait for Kirishima and Kaminari anymore. He was growing impatient, and hearing the haunting words of his village people circling in his head fueled his will power to get this whole ordeal done and head back home.

It was finally the end of another day protecting the forest.

You were about on your daily patrol with the wolf goddess and your wolf siblings, when you encounter three young men who looked like they were lost in the woods. You immediately assumed that they were looking for the tree of life. But they weren’t like the others. They weren’t finding it for selfish reasons. They were looking for it in hopes to find a cure for a curse. That’s what their auras were trying to show at least.

One of those men particularly piqued your interest.

He was… handsome? Was that the word that humans used?

He had ash blonde hair that spiked upwards at all angles, passionate red orbs that gave him such a striking appearance, as if he could hold up the world in his hands. Calloused hands that had taken a part in many battles, a muscular build like that of a noble warrior, a shining sword just as big as him and an arrow that he looked like he was adept at using.

Yet despite your observations, there was this mysterious air around him that you just couldn’t understand.

“(Y/N)? Dear? Is anything wrong?” The elegant white wolf goddess, Moro, calls out to her human daughter, with a worried look.

“I saw 3 dorks by the riverbend on our patrol a while ago.” You say rather jokingly, trying to remember their faces. “I should have struck them down when I had the chance.” You shake your head, reaching for the knife in your skirt and grasping it.

“How so?” The goddess twitches her ear, as if raising an eyebrow at you. “Did you feel any bad spirits within them? Any emotional aura? I told you to do that before attempting to attack anyone remember?”

“There was this particular man among them who had strong energy. He was radiating a gloomy yet aggressive energy. Like that of a person hiding their true emotions to remain strong and brave to the outside world. I kind of felt sorry for him.” Your voice trails off as you nestle your body next to the wolf goddess, along with your siblings who were cuddled up next to you too.

“Why don’t you go check up on him then?” Moro replies casually, as if teasing you. You raise your head up, feeling a tint shade of pink appear on your cheeks.

“W-what do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

A shrieking noise began to ring in your ears, signaling that a human has entered the forest. You quickly rise up from the bed of leaves you were sleeping in. Running out of the cave, you gallop down a slope and sprint your way to the foot of the forest. The spirits guiding you to where you needed to go.

You feel the hostile energy yet again.

Could it be the young man from earlier?

When he enters your field of vision, you climb up the nearest tree to get a clearer look at him from above and from afar.

He still had the same expression plastered upon his face since this afternoon. An irritated and scornful look, yet there was kindness in his eyes that you couldn’t describe.

It wasn’t the kindness that you would see from the eyes of a regular person but it was a kindness that was combined with a desire to protect the people around him. It was different and oddly comforting.

You continue to observe his every move, waiting for him to mess up or try to hurt the magical properties of the forest before you confront him to ask why the hell was he even roaming around in the forest, in the middle of night like a fluffy dog.

Katsuki noticed you standing on the tree-tops.

You weren’t exactly the greatest hide and seek player.

However, he chose to shrug you off and ignore you as he continues to look for traces of spiritual energy that could lead him to the tree of life.

Based on the stories that Kirishima had told, he was actually a bit surprised by your appearance. He couldn’t make out your face with the mask that you were wearing but he noticed your mildly disheveled hair, the ragged clothes you had on, a cape made of white fur and a necklace adorned with three fangs hanging on your neck. From that alone, he knew you were a princess. Not your conventional princess per se with all the jewelry, intricate headpieces and beautiful dresses but, the presence that you have has sort of a dignified feel to it. You might not look like the part but you embodied everything that a princess should be. Headstrong, intelligent, confident in her beliefs, and never afraid to stand her ground.

That’s what Katsuki thinks at least.

With all the stories that Kirishima had recited about the Yakushima forest, you were one of the most interesting bits.

Katsuki Bakugo was enthralled by you in more ways than one.

You were a mysterious enigma that he had to unravel.

You were getting a bit tired of watching him aimlessly roam around the forest. He was absolutely going nowhere which is funny because he didn’t strike you as a person who had no sense of direction. In an alternate universe, he’d probably be kidnapped by some villain or bad guy if he continued to be reckless like this, just walking around without a care in the world.

You spoke too soon.

You barely dodge a sharp arrow that pierces through a tree. It wasn’t from the young man you were watching but from someone else. Thieves. two of them.

You forgot that you weren’t able to sense other humans entering the forest if you focus on a particular one. It completely slipped your mind that there would still be sick individuals who would try and attempt to find the riches of the forest despite the many incidents happening time and time again warning humans to not enter the Yakushima Forest if they want to explore it for their own selfish desires.

You hastily jump down onto the ground, releasing a flurry of punches and kicks at the thieves, knocking 2 of them unconscious. You thought that the fight was over until you hear agonizing screams from the other side of the forest.

You quickly sprint your way there, hoping nothing serious had happened and no one was hurt in the process.

You arrived in a secluded area, tall trees covering the sun or the moon for the light to seep into, resulting in a dark and gloomy atmosphere.

You stop in your tracks when you notice six thieves unconscious on the ground too. You were about to breathe a sigh of relief when you notice that the boy was panting heavily, injuries and deep wounds were present all around his body. He was terribly injured. He stares at you for a few seconds before collapsing onto the ground.

You grit your teeth, approaching him with a scornful look. “You’ve wasted your life by getting in my way!” You sheathe his blade from it’s scabbard, pointing it directly to his chest. Katsuki’s chest rises up and down, a sign showing that he was breathing normally but was at the brink of unconsciousness.

“I’ll cut your throat! That will shut you up!”

“You’re beautiful…”

He mumbles, his eyes fluttering open, making intense eye contact with yours.

You suddenly feel your heart race, thumping loudly. You pull the sword away and jump away from him. You were taken aback by his words because of how he caught you off guard just like that. Who gave him the right to do this to you? Who was he in the first place?

Why did he make you feel all these soft and mushy feelings right now?

Who gave him the right to do this to you?

A human being?

A feeling sparking in your chest...

Is this what humans call love?

- To be continued.

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 4 years ago

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It's Delicate: Part II

Summary: Spencer Reid finds himself at a gas station at 2:00 am, thinking he’s only leaving with a cup of crappy coffee. But something taped to the door catches his eye. Spencer leaves the gas station with more than he intended: the chance at a friend, and maybe something more along the way.

Word Count: 3.6 k

Author’s Note: Here's the second part in It's Delicate, my first chapter fic. I've planned out kind of where I see this eventually going! Thank you to anyone who reads, likes, comments, and reblogs. It really means the world to me.

Content Warnings: Expletive language (3 uses), mentions of drug use, sexual innuendo

READ PART I

It's Delicate Masterlist

It's Delicate

Sitting on the plane, Spencer looks out from the little window. For hours, there’s been nothing but corn fields and clouds. It’s eerily peaceful, being there high above the clouds. His whole life Spencer has felt this distance between him and everyone else, but nothing makes that feeling more prominent than being strapped in a glorified metal box 35,000 feet off the Earth’s surface. But the thing is, Spencer does need to be flying above the trees to feel lonely. He can do that with two feet on the ground.

Luke sits across Spencer, the table between them and a deck of playing cards are spread out across its surface. He has to nudge Spencer’s leg from under the table, trying to bring him back to reality as he stares out the window.

“Whatcha thinking,” Luke asks, Spencer has been noticing more and more that Luke is one of the few people that actually listens to him.

Spencer, whose mind is racing too fast to even formulate an articulate thought, attempts to dodge Luke’s question with a noncommittal shrug.

“Reid, these cases are hard for all of us, you gotta know that man,” Luke says, laying down a four of a kind.

Spencer narrows his eyes, shocked that it hasn’t clicked yet for the rest of the team. He cracks his neck, preparing to answer Luke.

“We almost locked up an innocent man, Alvez. I almost sent another man to the same fate as myself. What kind of fucked up message is that?” Spencer says, throwing down the cards on the table. He doesn’t wait for Luke to respond.

“I fold,”

Spencer walks off into the small kitchenette to make a cup of coffee. He doesn’t want to think about his increased reliance on coffee, because he knows it’s a hot cup of coffee or a cold needle of Dilaudid in his veins. Spencer checks his watch, it’s 10:17 pm, maybe too late to find a meeting at a church or rec center somewhere.

He sneaks a peak at his phone, which was still unfortunately on Airplane Mode, he hasn’t even gotten a chance to see if Y/N has responded. He doesn’t know much about her, just as much as she knows about him.

It’s a brave new world for Spencer and he’s knee deep into the unknown.

Spencer can feel Luke’s eyes on him. He just knows that the minute he gets home, a certain tech expert will be ringing him. He knows that it’s Luke’s way of caring, but for someone who’s been alone for so long, having people that actually care is almost drowning.

Walking back to his seat, Spencer hands Luke a coffee. He smiles slightly; it’s the awkward smile that he used to make when intimating police chiefs and idiot cops would look him up and down like he’s a TA. It’s a peace offering for Luke, who despite his tough looking exterior, is one of the kindest people Spencer knows.

“Look, Reid. I’m sorry that we didn’t put it together. It’s just that man that we caught, he’s not like you. He’s not innocent of crimes, he’s just innocent of this crime,” Luke says in an attempt to make Spencer feel a little bit better.

“The thing is Luke, I’m exactly like that man,”

Spencer returns to staring out the window. The cards and the coffee on the table are long ignored for the silence that is found when you’re high above the clouds.

Spencer hears Tara and Emily murmur quietly about going out for a round of drinks. Luke accepts, while JJ and Matt decline, eager to get home to their families. Emily looks over at Spencer, her eyes silently scanning him, his body language. Spencer knows that there’s nothing he can hide from Emily, so there’s no use in trying to pretend he’s alright when she can take one look at him and know that nothing is right.

“You guys have fun, I’m going to head home and get some sleep. I plan on visiting my mom tomorrow and mornings are usually better for her,” Spencer says, slinging his go bag around his shoulders and making the trek back to the security to check out.

He walks slowly, enjoying the sound of the crickets chirping as he trudges along. Spencer tries not to think about the man, Richard, who was almost locked up for a crime that he didn’t commit. Spencer is pretty sure that being the person to throw an innocent man in jail is worse than being the innocent man in jail.

Spencer’s phone buzzes loudly, disturbing the silence of his walk. He looks at the phone to see a couple of messages from Y/N. Spencer slides open the lock to his phone and hits the button to read her messages.

Y/N: Spencer...that has a nice ring to it. So tell me a little bit about yourself. Your big three, but as books. Go! 🌞🌙⬆️

Furrowing his brow, Spencer reads the message over again. He does not have a clue what “big three” means, but it seems like some sort of pop culture thing that he’s not skilled in. He wants to text Garcia for a translation, but he’s also not too keen on telling her how he came across Y/N’s number.

Y/N: I assume you’re working, but I'm kind of impatient so I’ll give you mine 🙃 I’m a Little Women sun, an Emma moon, and an In Cold Blood rising.

Y/N: Oh no….I hope my astrology didn’t turn you off

Y/N: Not that I was trying to turn you on

Y/N: omg Y/N please shut the fuck up

Astrology? Spencer isn’t one to judge, but he’s a scientist first and foremost. The idea that there is something written about him in the stars seems like ludicrous. He decided to ignore the other messages, particularly the ones with a little more than slight innuendo.

Spencer: Y/N- I’m sorry I just got out of work. As for my big three, I’m not sure about astrology. I don’t particularly believe in pseudoscience. But those are good choices. In Cold Blood is an excellent choice. Capote spent years researching the case. In fact his prose and technique inspired the entire “Nonfiction novel” genre. The world of journalism and true crime would not be where it is without Capote’s work.

Y/N: Oh my god. You are a total nerd. 🙀

That stops Spencer right in his tracks. He’s only a couple of yards away from the Volvo at this point, but somehow it feels a million miles away. You are a total nerd. The words replay in his mind as the small gray bubbles pop up again. Spencer can feel his heart constrict at Y/N’s words. It’s ridiculous, he’s nearly 34 and is getting upset that a stranger called him a nerd. Spencer unlocks his car and tosses his go bag, phone included onto the passenger seat.

After a couple of minutes his phone buzzes again. He’s half tempted to answer it, but the way his heart seems to beat faster tells him to ignore it.

Y/N: I fucking love it and I think you’ll love this too

Spencer’s entire demeanor changes as he reads the message. He’s always had difficulties reading emotion in writing, especially when he can’t analyze the handwriting. Sometimes, it’s even harder to judge inflection during conversations. Maybe that is why Spencer has spent all this time studying people, studying the way that their minds work. Before he can get too lost in his thoughts, another message pops up.

Y/N: Meet Capote and Second Cat

Y/N: They are the loves of my life

Spencer: They are very...distinguished looking. Capote is an excellent name choice then. Second Cat is also quite catchy.

Spencer hesitates before sending the message, he notices that Y/N uses what Garcia calls “emojis” quite frequently. He assumes that it’s some sort of “texting lingo” that expresses emotion in small graphics. Great, he thinks. He already has a difficult time deciphering Y/N’s cryptic wording and now he’s got to analyze these emojis.

Maybe he should profile her. He re-reads the message and settles on a “😄” because he figures that he can’t go wrong with offering Y/N a smile.

Spencer: I don’t have a cat, but when I was a kid I always wanted one, they’re quite good companions for those that live several different kinds of lifestyles. From active to sedentary, they are adaptable and independent. Honestly they are the perfect pet.

Y/N: Is this your way of telling you’re a crazy cat man? 😜 🙀

Spencer, still sitting in his car that’s parked in the parking lot, chuckles at Y/N’s response to his message. Maybe it’s just easier to ignore his rambling when it’s done through 1s and 0s and there isn’t a face to the words.

Spencer: I’m actually more of a fish guy

Y/N: Like a “I-like-to-go-fishing-and-post-picture-of-myself-kissing-my-catch-on-Tinder” kind of fish guy or...I can’t think of any other kind of fish men

Spencer, not totally understanding the obvious joke that Y/N is trying to make, settles on something that he hasn’t really ever tried: being himself.

Spencer: Not quite sure what a Tinder is, but I think fishing is terrifying and kissing a fish is something out of nightmares. But his name is Leo

Y/N: DiCaprio?

Spencer: Uhh, Tolstoy

Y/N: Good😉 ⚔️🕊️ 🇷🇺

Spencer glances at his clock on the control panel, it tells him that he’s been messaging with Y/N back and forth for nearly 22 minutes. He nearly forgot how tired he was.

Spencer: Y/N- I’m so sorry but, I just got to my car to drive home from work. I’ll text you tomorrow morning about the book club, maybe we can figure out some things.

Y/N: OMG Spencer!! you should have told me. I’ve been talking ur ear off. sleep well and yes please tomorrow we can talk about the book club

Y/N: Good night, Book Buddy 😴

Spencer wants to respond to Y/N, but he doesn’t know what to say. She seems to text so easily, and judging by that, she must be around Spencer’s age or a little bit younger. Besides JJ and Penelope, Spencer has never had a friend close to his age. It’s a strange new territory for him and he’s walking in head first into No Man’s Land.

He starts his Volvo, the check engine still lights but, reminding him once again to go get it fixed. Driving away from the parking lot, Spencer hands over his ID to Gina, the security guard. She checks his ID and gives him a tired smile. Spencer, as he drives home to his apartment, thinking about what books he and Y/N will read together. He wonders what kind of books are her favorite, if they have any authors that they can obsess over together, or if what she thinks a poet’s prose is.

The summer air rushing in through the window is nowhere as warm and as comforting as thought of Spencer finally having a friend that isn’t able to read the scars of his past in the text bubbles that pop up on her screen.

When Spencer opens his eyes for the first time that morning, he isn’t sure where he is. Sometimes, before he can stop his thoughts from travelling there, Spencer thinks he’s still in jail. He hates the feeling of terror that rushes over him but he hates the idea of being vulnerable a little bit more. But the softness of his pillows and the coolness of his cotton sheets remind him that he’s not sleeping on a hard cot with only a layer of fabric over his body. The light streams in through the half closed blinds, and Spencer judges by how brightly the sun shines in, it must be around 9:45 am.

He supposes that he prefers the way the sun’s rays paint horizontal bars across his face more than the vertical bars that cast gray shadows over his cell at Milburn Penitentiary.

It’s a day off from work, so Spencer didn’t set an alarm, instead allowing his mind and his body to catch up on some much needed rest. The nightmares have been getting better, but his dreams are still haunted by the way that he hardly recognizes himself anymore. Deciding that it will be a day spent in pajamas, Spencer goes to his bookshelf in his bedroom to pick out a couple of novels to read while he drinks his morning coffee and defrosts some of Luke’s strawberry pastries.

Before heading out of his room, Spencer stops himself in the doorway. He replays the events of last night. He declined to go out with the rest of the team, while he walked to his car he thought about the crickets telling the temperature, and he read over Y/N’s messages.

Y/N.

He promised he’d text her back in the morning about their book club. Last night, she didn’t seem to mind Spencer’s long messages and awkward phrasing. He still doesn’t really know how this Book Buddy thing would work, but since he found Y/N’s number on the flyer, he can only assume that she knows what to do. He leaps on his bed, landing with thud on his belly, to grab his phone that charges on his nightstand.

Spencer settles at his kitchen table, a cup of steaming hot Dark Roast coffee in a Captain Spock mug in one hand and, surprisingly, his phone in the other. He scrolls through the messages from last night, Y/N’s cat and emojis tempt a smile to Spencer’s face.

Not entirely sure how to start the conversation again, Spencer looks around for inspiration until his eyes land on a certain fish tank in the corner of his apartment. He snaps a quick picture of Leo and attaches it to the message.

Spencer: Good Morning from Leo & Spencer

Spencer sets down his phone after a moment when he realizes that Y/N is probably not going to answer him back in a couple of seconds. He takes out a strawberry pastry from his freezer and puts it into the toaster oven on a non-stick baking sheet. His thumbs run across the texture of the book he started on the plane ride after his and Luke’s ill fated poker game. It's a thin book of collected essays on the meaning of life. Camus, to Spencer, is a little pessimistic with his droning on about the meaninglessness of life. Though Spence has seen the absolute worst that humanity has to offer, he still has to believe that there’s a deeper meaning behind it all.

His toaster oven rings, altering him so that his toasted strawberry pastry is cooked. He plates his breakfast and pours himself another cup of coffee- he’ll need it to get through Camus’s section on Absurdism this early in the morning. But the flash of Spencer’s phone screen sends him reaching for his phone. Y/N replied to his message.

Y/N: hi leo!!!

Y/N: and you too Spencer :) Did you get a good night’s sleep. You got back late it seems.

Spencer, taking a bite of the strawberry pastry, ignores the burning sensation in his mouth. He types out a response to Y/N as he washes down the bite with a swing of coffee.

Spencer: I did, thank you. Can you tell me a little bit more about this book buddy thing. From what I gathered from the flyer it’s like a little book club of our own and we meet at the bookstore?

It doesn’t take long for Y/N to respond. The little gray dots pop up almost immediately after Spencer’s message is delivered.

Y/N: That’s about right! Is it okay if I call you? Kinda easier to talk that way 🤷‍♀️

Spencer reads over the message a couple of times. He doesn’t really like to talk on the phone and only does it out of necessity. He’s pretty sure that his voice is grating and his vocal fry is quite irritating. Yet, he finds himself replying “yes” to Y/N. Soon enough, his phone buzzes in his hand and Spencer has to remind himself how to pick up a call.

“Spencer? Um, this is Spencer Reid, right?” the voice says. It’s a woman’s voice and he can only assume that it’s Y/N, considering it is her phone number calling him.

“Y/N, uh hi. This is Dr. Spencer- I mean this is Spencer,” he says, nearly forgetting that Y/N doesn’t know him as Dr. Reid, but as just Spencer. It’s been a long time since someone has known him as Spencer.

“Oh great! It’s wonderful to finally have a voice to your name. So about these buddy reads. You seem to have a good grasp of what they are,” Y/N’s voice trails off a little bit at the end and Spencer finds it natural to fill in the silence.

“Yes, the flyer was quite informative. But I was wondering, do we read the same books or do we read different books?” Spencer asks, trying to restrain himself from scaring Y/N off. But something about her made him think that she didn’t scare easily.

Y/N chuckles lightly in the speaker of her phone, “that’s a good question, uh, I was actually going to ask you what you would rather. We can read the same books, or if it’s okay with you we can choose what the other would read for that week,”

“Oh really?” Spencer says, very much aware how his voice rises a couple of octaves. He can’t trust himself to hold back on rambling over the phone Y/N, so he resorts to using his strained, brittle voice that’s full of hesitation and restraint.

“That’s the plan, so whatcha thinking, Spencer,” Y/N says playfully, like she can sense that phone conversations maybe not make him feel at ease. There’s something so natural and silvery about her voice; it reminds Spencer of an audiobook reader. While he’s not too keen on audiobooks, he’s sure that he’d listen to anything she reads or has to say.

“Um, I think it sounds interesting to pick out books for each other. I tend to gravitate towards more technical books or even books that aren’t in English so, uh, I think it would be interesting to get out of my comfort zone,” Spencer says, cringing internally at using the word “interesting” twice in a couple of sentences.

“Well, as long as you don’t pick out something in physics or anything by Ayn Rand then I’d say we’re good,” Y/N says. Spencer thinks it’s a joke, but he’s not too sure how to respond.

“Will you still be my Book Buddy if I read 1 out of 2 of those?” Spencer asks, hoping she’d get that he is trying to continue the joke.

“Oh no Spencer please don’t tell me you’re an Ayn Rand fanboy,” she says, and by the airy way she laughs, Spencer ventures to guess his joke landed successfully.

“So,” Spencer starts, he never has made plans with people outside of his team, and on top of that, there’s something about Y/N’s quickness that makes him a little nervous to meet her.

“I’m talking your ear off, aren’t I? Please Spencer, if you’re going to be my Book Buddy, you’re going to have to get used to me talking a lot, especially you pick out good books, which, I already have a feeling you’re going to be favorite Book Buddy,”

For once in his life, Spencer doesn’t really know how to respond. He lets out something in between a strangled laughter and a noncommittal chuckle.

“So,” Y/N says, mirroring Spencer’s earlier words, “so are you free tonight, I can meet you at the bookstore..”

Y/N’s voice trails off and Spencer leaps to finish her sentences. It doesn’t feel like his interjecting or interrupting, but like he’s snapping a puzzle piece together.

“Does 7 work?” “7 is great, Spencer. It’s a date,”

Those three little words send Spencer’s eyes flying wide open. He scrambles to come up with answer to louden the silence that falls, but he swears he can hear a string of quiet curses before Y/N manages to squeak out a small “goodbye,”

Y/N’s last words play back in Spencer’s ears. He scolds himself for being so weird and awkward that the very idea of going on a date with him would send Y/N in a tizzy. It’s not a date, because Spencer can’t think about it being a date. It’s not a date because of the looming photo above his mantle that freezes his future in the past. It’s not a date because of the nightmare of vertical bars that haunt his dreams

It’s not a date. It’s so not a date because Spencer would call Luke to come over to help him if it was.

“Hey Luke,” Spencer says, trying to control the nervous waves in his voice, “no man, I’m fine, it’s uh, easier if you just come over. I’m fine, really,”

Y/N: I really hope you're not an Ayn Rand fanboy 😉

It’s so not a date.

--THANK YOU FOR READING--

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #reid fanfiction

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ymirslvr · 4 years ago

Text

just the two of us

historia x gn!reader

wc- 1.5k

notes- i got sick of this being in my drafts so it’s not proofread i apologize in advance lol. historia is just a normal scout here, she never went by krista and is not royal-blooded. also petition for some more hisu content pls

content- fluff

you lay awake, staring at the bed above you. the quiet sounds of the night and your roommate snoring softly buzzing through your ears. you'd think that sleep would come easy for you considering the amount of training you go through daily. you should be exhausted by the time you're able to finally rest, but more times than not you find yourself in this exact same situation, sometimes becoming so desperate to get some sleep you start counting sheep.

you roll over with a sigh, shifting your focus to the window. it's clear out tonight, stars littering the sky. your windows open, letting the slight summer draft blow in. the sounds of the night are interrupted by light footsteps creeping closer and closer to the door. you sit up in your bed, almost bumping your head onto the bunk above you. the door creaks open ever so slightly, squinting, you try to make out whos there. blonde hair pokes through the opening, “y/n?”, she peers in. you smile, it's historia. grinning, you rise from your bed and take careful steps towards your door, trying not to wake your roommate. you greet her in the hallway, making sure to close your door behind you. she's wearing a light pink nightgown, blonde hair a bit messy and her cheeks a bit rosy. “i hope i didn't wake you,” she says softly, “i tried my best to keep quiet, but obviously your door wanted otherwise.” she giggles.

you smile down at her, “youre fine. whats up?” it's not unusual for historia to sneak into your room late at night, especially since both of you struggle with falling asleep. but usually you two will just lay together in your bed, finding comfort in each other. she opens her mouth to begin to speak only to shut it again. her small hand grabs yours and she starts to walk, pulling you behind her. your brows furrow, “historia?”.

“shhh. just come on!” the blonde replies with a giggle, pulling the hand she's holding up to her lips to give it a quick peck. she leads you outside, beginning to take you uphill, her blonde hair flowing behind her.

“what are we gonna do if they notice we're gone? i'm not in the mood to have to listen to the commander yell my ear off, reiss.” you say playfully. although it may seem like you were uninterested in this, you love when she does little things like this with you. its rare that you have time off, little moments together with her are much needed. you and historia have snuck out plenty of times before, but you always stayed right by the barracks. that way, if someone were to come looking for you guys you could just say you heard a noise and were seeing what it was. it wasn't the most believable excuse, but it was something. there wasn't any type of good excuse for venturing out this far.

“oh it'll be fine!” she exclaims, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “no ones ever come to look for us before, right? anyways, since when have you worried about getting in trouble?” giggling, she leads you over a small creek, the cold water washing over your bare feet. historia is aware of the risks in doing this, but truthfully, she doesn’t care. losing food privileges for the week or having extra training isn’t that big of a deal to her if it means she can spend extra time with you. and to tell the truth, even if you wanted to say no to this, you know you couldn't. you've always had a soft spot for her, she was one of the few good things in this cruel world. its ironic really, someone like her living in this awful place. you could never understand how fate seems to deal the best people the cruelest things. you know she’s not perfect, she’s not some angel who could do nothing wrong. but honestly, she could be the cruelest person in this world and you wouldn’t care.

she leads you up a path, taking you up to what seems like almost the top of the hill. she guides you through a field of wildflowers, the flowers so overgrown they scrape up against your knees. she lets go of your hand and begins to walk behind you, standing up on her tip-toes to place a soft hand over your eyes. “promise you won't look till i tell you to?”.

“i promise,” you say with a grin, closing your eyes. “promise you're not going to push me to my death or something?”

“y/n!” she yells. “don't ruin the moment!” giggling, she places her other hand onto your lower back to guide you forward. you move slightly uphill for about two minutes, you can no longer feel the flowers against your legs, instead it seems like you've moved onto a grassy field. the weight on your eyes and lower back subsides, you can hear footsteps moving from behind your head to infront of you. “okay,” the blonde says with a grin, “you can look now.”

you open your eyes, you're standing on a grassy platform that overlooks a pretty lake. the moon bright and full, illuminating the scene in front of you. “soo,” historia smiles, “isn’t it pretty?” she takes her hands in yours and pulls you towards her. her big blue eyes looking up into yours. the light from the moon hitting her face just right, making her look even more angelic than usual.

“it’s so pretty,” you smile, leaning down to press your lips against hers. the kiss is soft and sweet, she wraps her arms around your neck and pulls away, nuzzling her head into your chest.

“i was talking to armin and eren the other day, they said something about how reiner and bertholdt took them up here once. armin said the view was one of the prettiest he’s seen, so i decided that we needed to test that theory ourselves.”

“you couldn’t have picked a better night to do it.” you respond with a smile. she pulls away from the hug with a giggle and begins to sit down, pulling you down with her. letting go of her hands, you lay on your back. putting one arm behind your head to act as a cushion, the other stretched out to the side, gesturing for historia to lay with you. she smiles at your gesture and scoots over, positioning herself so that she's on her side, head nuzzled into the crook of your underarm, your arm wrapped around her. you look up, taking in the night sky.

you're not sure how long it's been, but you guys are still there, basking in each other's comfort. your hand is stroking her hair, her hand stroking your chest. its quiet, the only sounds being each other's breathing and the faint noise of crickets chirping. but it's a comfortable quiet nevertheless. it's nice to be able to escape from the craziness of the world, even if it's just for a bit.

historia never wants this moment to stop, neither do you. you guys find comfort in each other. it’s nice to be here with her, not having to worry about either of you getting hurt. it’s nice to have that feeling of secureness that you don’t have to often because of the way this world works.

“wish we could stay here forever, just the two of us.” she mumbles into your chest. you hum in agreement. as selfish as it is, the desire to run away with her and forget the entire world is so strong sometimes. historia feels the exact same way. she knows that doing that would make her an awful person, but if it meant being able to be with you, a reputation like that doesn’t sound that bad. though, you both know neither of you would ever act on that urge, you signed up to be soldiers, your jobs are to fight. but that doesnt stop your mind from making up scenarios of what life with her could be like under normal circumstances. you never thought you could find yourself missing something that has never happened.

“i love you.” you say softly, pressing your lips to the top of her head.

she snuggles into you and yawns, her voice barely above a whisper, “i love you too.”

you lay there until the birds begin to chirp and the coolness of the night begins to fade away. you gently shake her awake, grabbing her hand to pull her up. you walk back in silence, your hand gripping hers. you know staying up is gonna bite you in the ass during training later, but it was worth it. as strange as it is, laying there with her almost gave you hope that maybe one day that selfish desire you both dream of can come true. maybe one day the cruelness of this world will be over. you look back at her and smile, you’re greeted with a soft smile in return. maybe one day.

#historia reiss x reader #historia reiss x reader fluff #historia reiss #historia reiss fluff #aot #attack on titan #snk fanfiction #snk historia #mag!writes #historia x reader #krista lenz #i wrote this at like 2 am a few nights ago so like bare w me

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 5 years ago

Text

I’ll Never Be The Moon

Pairings: Sokka x Reader

Summary: It’s hard to get someone to notice you when you’re competition is the moon but Aang’s always there to make you feel better.

Warnings: Talk of death, Aang says ass

Word Count: 2000

_________________________________________

Every night, there was always a little pocket of time when the camp was uncharacteristically silent and Sokka was sitting to the side, staring up at the night sky instead of cracking jokes and telling stories. It was your least favorite time of night because it was a constant reminder of what you’d never be. Katara, Aang, Toph, and you all usually talked amongst yourselves, used to this routine. Everyone knew why Sokka got like this, though, so nobody bothered him about it. Not even Toph. There were just some things that you didn't joke about and Yue’s death was one of them.

But on some nights, like tonight, it got to you. Every single night, you watched the man you’d been crazy about for so long stare up at the moon, yearning for a lost love. He looked up at the moon like it held all the love and beauty in the world. He looked at you like you had mud on your face.

You sighed and pushed yourself up from your seat by the fire amidst a story Toph was telling, “I’m getting warm. I’m gonna go get some air.” You excused yourself, ignoring the little comments of acknowledgement from the group.

The view was beautiful here in this little piece of the Earth Kingdom. Camp was set up on the edge of a large pristine lake that was surrounded by a thick luscious forest. The mountains on the opposite side of the lake were reflected perfectly on the still surface of the water through the moonlight.

Beauty always came back to the moon.

You spotted a fallen log on the edge of the shore and found a home on it, just far enough away from the group to be allowed to have your own thoughts. But from here, you could see Sokka sitting there on the ground, his arms wrapped around his knees as he gazed up at the celestial being, mesmerized by her beauty.

“I’ll never be the moon…” You mumbled to yourself sadly.

“Everything okay?” Aang’s voice asked from behind you. You spun around to see the boy walking up the path you took.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m alright.” You lied, tucking your knees in and resting your chin on it.

Aang walked around and moved to sit on the log beside you, “Are you sure? You said something about not being the moon?”

You chuckled sadly. That must have sounded either psychotic or pathetic to him. “It’s nothing. Just talking to myself.” Were you even trying to not sound crazy?

“About being the moon?” He questioned with a hint of humor in his tone. You didn’t know how to respond. All you’d done was make yourself sound dumb and you already felt inadequate tonight as it was. You weren’t exactly eager to continue that so you only responded with a shrug. “This is about Sokka, isn’t it?” Aang put the pieces together. But honestly, it wasn’t that hard to tell. Your crush wasn’t blatantly obvious or anything but if you paid attention, like Aang had found himself doing for the past few weeks, the signs weren’t difficult to see.

You looked over at Aang with pleading eyes, “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” He crossed his fist over his heart with a confident smile. But when he saw that you were still down, he shrunk down to match your demeanor, “So I’m guessing it’s Yue, since you’re talking about the moon, right?”

You nodded, cheeks squished up against the palms of your hands as you leaned over onto them, “I never had a chance compared to her. She was a princess! And she was absolutely beautiful and kind and selfless. I’d never seen Sokka so entranced by someone. I'm just me. A girl from a poor family in a small Earth Kingdom village. Sure, I can fling rocks but it’s nothing compared to being a beautiful princess. And who would want the Earth when you could have the moon?”

“Y/N, you are beautiful, kind, selfless and more! And I really don’t think Sokka liked her because she was a princess. Yue wasn’t better than you; you two are just different people and that’s not a bad thing.” Aang comforted in his honest way.

Crickets began to chirp around the two of you in the clearing. “I don’t know… I just… I know I’ll never be her.”

“Why would you want to be her?” Aang asked, “I like you as you.”

“Because she has Sokka,” You started before you chuckled and a small smile appeared on your face despite your down mood, “But thank you, Aang.”

Aang leaned back on his arms against the log, “Well, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but she doesn’t really have Sokka anymore. I mean, she’s the moon. It’s kind of hard to date the moon.” He pointed out the obvious observation.

“That’s what I don’t understand! I know how bad that sounds. But… she’s gone.” You finally allowed yourself to say that dark little point (well, honestly, it was a pretty big point). Gosh, why did you feel like such a monster for saying that? “I know how terrible that sounds but when it comes down to it, Yue is literally the moon now. They can’t be together unless Sokka pulls some stupid hero stunt and gets himself blasted into the spirit world too but that seems pretty unlikely. I completely understand that her dying doesn’t take away his feelings for her or the hurt that came with losing her but it just hurts. It hurts me to see him hurting but it also hurts me to see him pining for a girl he fell in love with after three days when I can’t get him to give me a second glance.”

Your gaze fell on where the moon was reflecting in ripples on the water and followed its light back up to its large celestial source with a small sigh, “Even in death she’s beautiful. No wonder he’ll always love her.”

Aang stood up with a sense of finality, “No,” He crossed his arms before grabbing your hand and forcing you to stand up, “I won’t allow this. You don’t get to think you’re worth less than someone else just because she was a princess or part moon spirit. Come here and look in the water.” He led you to the shore and leaned over the water with you until you saw both of your reflections. “Now what do you see?”

Your face twisted as you made eye contact with your reflection, “Me? You? Us?” You guessed, not sure what he was getting at.

“No, I want you to look at you and tell me what you see.” Aang insisted, pointing at your reflection.

This time, you really tried to see what Aang wanted you to see. Though the reflection was dark from the limited light, you could still make out enough of your image. You just looked like you. Your hair was actually in place for once, which you attributed to not flying on Appa for the last few hours. You did have a smudge of ash on your cheek that you must have accidentally swiped across your face after moving a burning piece of wood back into the fire pit earlier. A small splice at the tail of your eyebrow was healing up but still visible, a "trophy", as Toph called it, after a run in with some Fire Nation soldiers the other day. You wore a green top that covered your shoulders and crossed around the front, held together with a tan tie. The top of your dark brown pants were visible but those looked a little ragged too. The wrappings that started around your thumb and went around your forearms, up to your elbows were getting dirty as well, more tan than off white now. Coming from the outer villages that were run by Earth Kingdom "soldiers", if you could even call them that after all the extortion, it wasn't exactly like you joined the group with super nice clothing to begin with.

"I see a girl with a busted eyebrow, a dirty face, and clothes that she needs to wash tomorrow." You huffed a little, beginning to pull away before Aang pushed you back to stay where you were.

You rolled your eyes before he started talking, "I see someone who fights for what she believes in, someone who didn't come from much but is going to help change the world. Someone that doesn't need to be a princess to be awesome or beautiful. Sure, you got a little scuffed up and you got ash on your face but who cares? I know Sokka sure doesn't. Besides, Sokka needs to do his laundry tomorrow too… he’s starting to smell kind of bad." You snorted as you stifled a laugh. Aang wasn’t necessarily wrong though.

Before he continued, he looked over your shoulder to make sure you two were still alone. When he ensured it was still just the two of you in ear shot, he leaned in close, putting his arm around your shoulders and whispered, "And between you and me, Sokka was practically drooling over you when you took out those Fire Nation soldiers the other day. He thinks the badass thing you've got going on is super attractive."

You turned your head to him with a skeptical look on your face, unsure if he was just saying that to make you feel better but when you thought about it, you didn't think you'd ever actually heard Aang lie before. That probably meant he wasn't lying now, though. "Really?"

Aang nodded, "Yeah, but don't tell him I told you. He'll kill me."

You couldn't help but smile at your friend. All he ever did was try and help people, even it was just dumb stuff like making a friend feel better about a boy. "Thank you." You reached over and pulled him into a side hug.

When you pulled away, you looked back over to camp to see that Sokka had returned from his nightly mourn. He now sat on top of his sleeping bag, a stick in his hand, as if he'd been poking the fire, but instead of doing that, he was actually looking at you. It was only for a brief moment that your E/C eyes locked with his brilliant blue ones because he quickly looked down at fire, a tint of pink rising in his cheeks.

"Told you," Aang hummed, "He's been looking over at you for the last few minutes."

A small glimmer of hope rose up in your chest but it felt tainted somehow, "Maybe he just zoned out…" Defeat already laced your voice, "I mean, if he likes me, why doesn't he say anything? He's never been exactly subtle with girls he's liked in the past."

Aang stood up and walked around the log to the other side of you, "I think he just feels conflicted. A part of him still loves Yue even though he knows he can't have her, but he really likes you too." He put a hand on your shoulder, "I'm gonna head back to camp. But just give him a little more time, okay? I have a feeling that things are actually going to work out between you guys and my feelings are almost always right." He gave you a wink with childish confidence.

Your gaze followed Aang as he jogged back to the camp, ready to follow suit, figuring the gang would start pestering you about being moody if you didn't return soon. Though you started watching Aang, you couldn't help but allow your eyes to flick over to Sokka again, just out of curiosity (okay, fine, maybe just because you really liked to look at him). Sokka's bright blue eyes were already trained on your firm when you glanced over but this time, instead of pretending to be burning a stick, he made a big show of reaching behind him to grab his boomerang, trying just a little too hard to look 'natural (if you could call it that). A warm smile crept up on your face and you giggled to yourself as you finally stood up from the log to make your way back to camp. Maybe Aang's feeling could be right after all.

#sokka #sokka x reader #sokka imagine #sokka blurb #Avatar The Last Airbender #atla #I'll never be the moon

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aceofspadegrass · 4 years ago

Note

Can you maybe make a fic of just me and Niragi chilling and hangin out together at the beach?,just Niragi being calm for just one day.

(Of course his lynx and Fanta has to be there...and Dori)

And then Niragi would question things such as "Can I see your hair?" And I would say "No,only girls and family relatives can see it" "Why aren't men aloud to see your hair?" "Because,they will judge on just by or appearance and not our personality" "So does that mean,Kuina,Ann and Mira can see your hair?" "Yes,yes they can. We even has a girls sleepover party at Kuina's room that day with Ace and Chloe" And Dori dressing up as a women is like "A-and I'm not invited!?" "Dori,you're a boy..a grown man dressing up as smexy lady-"

A Chat with Ila

Characters: @a-simp-20, Niragi Suguru, Dori Sakurada

Genre: Fluff. Just @a-simp-20 vibing with Dori and Niragi and talking about hijabs! :D

1.4k words

Hehe, sorry I finally got around to this! I was taking a little fanfic break after posting 6 fics in a row, you understand right? (I say break as if it hasn’t even been a week pfft-)

I’m going to try my best to incorporate your culture, okay? Okay. :D I hope you like it @a-simp-20! Here, have this nice picture as well. (Sorry for tagging you three times in a row-)

It was late into the day, and wandering about the Beach was a group. It consisted of two men, a lady, and two animals, happily chatting amongst each other about normal topics, like how soft pillows were and the legality of eating fried crickets as a snack.

Which, by the way, was completely legal in certain cultures.

Fanta was happily trotting besides Dori, who was more focused on trying to paint his nails with clear polish on the move, humming a song. On the other side of him was Catra, the lynx wearing a rubber duck on her head for the sheer fun of it. Said rubber duck had a tiny felt cap on it, tiny lettering spelling the word ‘Chicken’ in Hiragana.

People naturally got out of the way upon seeing Niragi, but Niragi wasn’t even paying attention to them, knowing full well his sheer presence was enough to cause a reaction. That way he could focus on talking to Ila about totally normal human endeavours.

“ Have you ever sat in a bath in the dark with a little bit of light? It’s actually really soothing as long as you’re not scared of the dark, and it’s really quiet too!” Ila chirps, walking besides the bottle of black tea, Niragi shrugging. He’s never really had the time for himself for something like that. It sounded amazing though, and maybe when he had the time he would do it, even using scented candles and even bath salts. Ila smiles up at him. “ Aww, you really should, you look like you need one!”

“ Wh- Hey! What does that supposed to mean?!” Niragi accuses as he looks down at Ila, who smiles at him.

“ It’s really nice, that’s all! Especially here, where there’s so much violence going on, there needs to be a time to relax and ease your stress!”

Niragi just squints at her, then leaves it be. Ila had good intentions, so he just continues onwards, Dori humming behind Niragi and Ila.

“ If you want to, Niragi, I wouldn’t mind it if you wanted to borrow some of my bath salts! They’re some of my favourites, but don’t expect them to smell like anything. I prefer the unscented ones.” Dori offers Niragi, who just waves off his doppelgänger as they approach the TV room. The group enters, Fanta and Catra hopping onto the couch and claiming it as their own until Niragi shooed them off to sit on the ground instead. Fanta was a lot more nicer about that, Catra baring her teeth a little at Niragi, the overcooked barbecue giving her the disappointed dad look complete with his hand on his hip until Catra finally complied, Ila taking a seat right where the cat was previously, Dori taking the other side of the couch. That left Niragi to the middle, but he doesn’t take a seat just yet, heading over to the DVD case to pick out a movie for them to pass the time with. He pulls out a random case, squinting at the cover.

“ Hey, Sakurada. Why the hell are you on this?” Niragi holds the case up and looks to Sakurada. Sakurada comes over and peers at the case, gasping a little in recognition.

“ Oh! That’s Orange! It’s actually really good!” Dori smiles happily at seeing his face on the cover, even if it was really small. Niragi hums, looking at the cover. He points to the main characters on the cover, squinting at it.

“ The fuck, why are these two on here-“

“ Hm? Oh, that’s just Yamazaki and Tsuchiya! They’re actors as well! I kind of hope they’re alright, I haven’t seen them around lately-“

“ How many of you clone fuckers are out there-“

“ Well technically-“

Niragi holds a hand up, hushing Sakurada. “ Never mind, I don’t care anymore. Let’s just watch this.” Sakurada mutely nods and goes back to sitting on the couch, Fanta hopping back up and splaying his body across Sakurada’s lap, Sakurada chuckling in amusement and giving his dog a few belly tickles. Ila was visibly happy as well, Niragi sliding in the disc and going to sit down as the movie started to run.

Two hours later, and Ila was already talking about the movie and how nice it was, Sakurada nodding along with her as she went on. Niragi remained quiet, admittedly not having paid much attention to the movie or its plot, using it more like background noise and eye candy as he zoned out. He wasn’t really much of a romance drama movie kind of guy anyways, got too mushy for his taste.

Still, no use in spoiling Ila and Sakurada’s joy in the movie. Even Fanta seemed to be joining in on the fun, tail wagging excitedly as he sat there on Sakurada’s lap. Catra had sat at the foot of the couch the entire time, content where she was and occasionally grooming her huge paws and then settling said paws on Niragi’s foot and kneading it. It was a weird experience, but ultimately harmless.

The conversation soon died down, shifting to fashion sense, and Niragi’s attention moves to Ila, more importantly on the hijab on her head. It was actually a pretty salmon colour, and his staring contest with the side of her head went on too long, as his eyes met with a very amused face, Ila blinking and waving a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of it.

“ Is something wrong? Is there like…. lint on my head?”

“ Ah, no- Just wondering why you wear that. I don’t think anyone has seen your hair.” “ Well, men haven’t! That’s kind of the point! I’m a Muslim, and that means women wear these as a sign of modesty.” Niragi tilts his head. Why be modest here? It’s the Borderlands, technically anyone can do whatever they want. Then again, he guesses it applies to wearing it the same way as not wearing it. “ So….. why not?”

“ Well, it’s simple! We want people to not look for appearances and instead look for what’s right here!” She pats her chest, right where the heart was. “ It’s to keep men unrelated to us from seeing something they aren’t allowed to! If you were, for example, to marry a Muslim woman, then she’s allowed to show her hair to you, but only then! Otherwise that’s off limits to you!” Ila explains happily, Niragi slowly nodding and taking in the info.

“ So…. what about the ones that aren’t men?”

“ Then they’re allowed to see my hair! In fact, we, as in Ann, Kuina, Chloe, and Mira have sleepovers over in Kuina’s room! It’s actually really fun! Oh, but immediate male family members are allowed, but that’s it!”

There was a mildly offended gasp from Sakurada, who holds his hand over his heart. “ What? And I’m not invited to them? Even though I look stylish?”

Ila giggles, shaking her head. “ Even if you wear the prettiest dress and the nicest wig, you’re still identified as a male, and can’t be allowed to see my hair, Sakurada! It’s nothing against you, you’re doing great, it’s just how my religion functions between the relationship between men and women! It also means you and Niragi aren’t to touch me, even in a friendly context!” “ Wh- So you’ve never had a hug?” Niragi furrows his eyebrows a little, confused.

“ I have, just not with men.” Ila explains politely, still smiling. “ Being polite and modest is just how we are, that’s all! Of course, some cases of being touched by men are absolutely necessary, like with doctors, but when we can, we highly prefer not to be touched by non-mahram.” Niragi and Sakurada both nod at her words, Fanta barking. Sakurada point to Fanta. “ Does Fanta count?”

“ Well, not really? There’s technically different rules in set for dogs, but that’s for another time.” Ila responds, and gets up with a hum. “ Hey, wanna go see how many plastic ducks we can fit in Chishiya’s room?” Niragi grins, getting up so fast off the couch it almost was like he was ejected from it by a spring and running out the door, Fanta barking and running after him, Sakurada chuckling and getting up at a reasonable pace.

“ Come on, what are you waiting for! Let’s go fuck with the whipped cream pie!” Niragi yells, Ila laughing and following behind him along with the rest of the squad. It was a pleasant evening for some chaos after a nice long chat.

#aib #alice in borderland #aib fanfic #alice in borderland fanfic #niragi suguru #sakurada dori #niragi deserves a cat #I went ahead and did a bit of research to make sure that it was accurate enough-#this was actually really nice to write not gonna lie-#i don't know your stance on eating fried crickets so I kept it mostly vague-#it really just became a part of talking about muslim culture in a normal conversation #a real teaching moment for them :D #yes I included a sakurada acting career reference just because-#p.s. they got 102 ducks in his room before chishiya noticed-#ask

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kanri-tea · 4 years ago

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De-aged Rei

Rei gets de-aged by an illegal mic.

“Rei? …Rei?!”

It’s… bright. You don’t understand. Just moments ago, you were curled up in the closet again, locked away because you were bad, but now you were outside, along with these two unfamiliar men peering down at you.

You curl into yourself, hugging Sen as tight as you can. You don’t know them, but you really, really hope that they’re not the bad men your father always threatens that he’d sell you to.

“I-is that little kid Rei?!”

They know your name, and that sends chills down your spine. You’re scared. You probably should answer them, but even as you grip Sen even tighter than before, you stay silent.

"Oi, oi, oi, there's no way that little kid is Rei!"

Sasara felt like screaming, or maybe just shaking the little kid that was standing where their third member was standing less than a minute ago. To the side, Rosho is panicking and working himself into a frenzy, not that Sasara could blame him. Why did those weird guys even have an illegal microphone that changed people into little kids?! Or maybe it’s time travel since Sasara was 110% sure that Rei wasn’t wearing a tiny hoodie before.

In front of the duo was a tiny little kid, maybe 5 or 6, Sasara guessed, with a worn out red-and-grey hoodie and hugging the most worn out stuffed toy – a blue cat, he thinks – that Sasara had ever seen. It’s missing a button eye and one of its ears is torn and the stuffing was spilling out.

In fact, if it weren’t for the fact that not only did little Rei look terrified of them, but the scar that Sasara had originally assumed came from the old man messing up or something was also present.

He’s like 5, Sasara thinks to himself, frowning.

Turning to Rosho, the little frown and creased eyebrows tells Sasara that he’s thinking the same thing. Baby Rei is still scared, but everyone likes jokes, right?

“Heya, kiddo,” he grins, “want to hear something funny?”

Rei stares back solemnly.

“Why did the picture go to jail?”

Silence.

“Because he was framed! Get it?”

In the background, Sasara swore he could hear the crickets chirping and Rosho facepal– wait, Rosho actually was facepalming, the meanie!

Rei hasn’t moved an inch, and ouch, tough crowd. Okay, so maybe jokes weren’t the best idea.

“There’s something wrong with his head, I swear,” Rosho is kneeling down in front of tiny Rei, pushing Sasara away, which fair enough, “do you know where you are?”

For a good minute, Sasara thought that Rosho would be answered in silence like they’d both been for the last couple of minutes, before a tiny shake of the kid’s head, indicating no, was presented.

“Okay… okay…” Sasara hears Rosho muttering to himself, “I- I’m Rosho and this is Sasara. And you are…?”

Little Rei gives them an odd look, before mumbling something into the plushie.

“Oh. Um. Sorry, could – could you repeat that, we couldn’t hear you.”

“… Don’t you already know my name?”

“Uh, er… I mean, that is…”

Sasara butts in again, covering for a now stuttering Rosho, “We do, but it’s only polite to introduce yourself, y’know!”

“… Rei.”

“Nice t’meetcha, Rei!”

He’s met with a blank stare.

“So, I bet you’re wondering why you’re here! So, uh, your parents left you with us for a while, but I swear they’ll be back soon!”

Sasara could practically hear the skepticism on Rei, but the tiny child doesn’t say anything.

“C’mon,” he mumbles to Rosho, “let’s go to your apartment…”

You don’t understand these two men, Sasara and Rosho. They’re so bad at lying that it’s almost painful.

Sasara says that your parents left you with them, but that’s such a big fat lie. There’s no way that they’d leave you with other people, not when the evidence of their abuse is so obvious. But… they’re nice. They give you food and water and try to coddle you.

You don’t understand what’s going on, not really, but you guess that they’re okay-ish since they haven’t hit you or locked you into a closet or something.

You stay quiet though, because adults are fickle, fickle beings, and you don’t want them to suddenly decide that you’re a bad child that deserves to be punished. You know that they’ve been looking at you weirdly, but you can’t distinguish what those glances mean. You’re usually better than this, but its hard to struggle when Sasara is so weird and nice and Rosho feeds you and lets you sleep on a bed with blankets and pillows.

You sleep well for the first time in ages with Sen curled up by your side while waiting for the other shoe to drop, for nothing is ever freely given, especially not kindness.

Rosho paces back and forth and from the corners of his eyes, he can see that even Sasara has a troubled expression on his face. It was now close to midnight and nearly 10 hours since Rei had been turned into a child.

And what a worrying child he was. If the bruises and handprints hadn’t been enough proof, the way that the 10-year-old (he was 10, apparently, but god, he was so small that he looked 6 or something) flinched or looked warily at them, like an enemy, was more than enough to paint an unpleasant story.

Everything felt so... wrong. Rei was supposed to be a hulking figure, confidence and sleaziness oozing off with every step, not some meek child with solemn eyes.

"So..." He hears Sasara awkwardly start, "Apparently, according to some of my contacts, its supposed to wear off on its own."

Rosho breathes a sigh of relief, "When?"

"Uh, in like a day, but some cases took longer," Sasara pauses, hesitantly adding, "and the old man won't remember anything either."

That's good, in a way, Rosho thinks, but he doubts that Rei would be happy about not knowing what Sasara and Rosho had learned about the man, as secretive as he was.

"I guess we... wait it out then?"

"Not like we have much of a choice," he hears Sasara agreeing, and with how distant his voice sounds, Rosho wondered if Sasara was thinking the same things he was, eyes drawn to the bruises and scar.

You wake up in the morning and for once, your body does not ache from sleeping on the ground nor does your stomach growl in hunger. It's an odd feeling.

Sasara and Rosho are already awake and about by the time you wake up, but they don't yell at you for being lazy. They tell you to sit down a place a plate of food in front of you. You recognize the eggs, but you think the strips oily things are bacon, but you aren't sure.

You do your best to eat as much as possible, but you've never eaten so much in the span of 24 hours in your life. You don't want them to think of you as ungrateful, whether they're your kidnappers or not. You clutch Sen tightly even as Rosho bustles around the apartment and Sasara starts telling what you assume are jokes, but you don't understand most of them.

...You know that you aren't supposed to be here. You heard them talking about microphones and deaging and other weird things that sound like magic last night. You'll probably only be here for another couple hours, a day at most, but you want to savor it. You want hold onto the warmth of Rosho patting your head, human contact that didn't end in pain. You want to hold onto the memory of Sasara's grin when he told jokes that you don't really understand. It's warm. They're warm.

This hopeful dream, you don't want it to end.

Stretching, Rei yawned before pausing.

This... was not his apartment. Actually, wasn't this Rosho's apartment? What was he doing here?

He doesn't remember drinking with the other two division members, so there weren't many possible reasons Rei could think of for why he was here.

"Yo," he greets them in the living room. They're staring at him wide-eyed and... is that pity? The hell?

"R-Rei!"

"Welcome back to the land of the living, old man!"

"Haha, pretty sure I was neither dead nor drunk, you brat."

"Rei," Rosho begins tentatively, "what's the last thing you remember?"

The last thing he remembers, huh... Hmmm... It's fuzzy, but they were in a rap battle, weren't they, Rei thinks, and the opponents had illegal mics with unknown effects. He says as much.

"Yeah, we figured," Rei hears Sasara mutter, but what exactly did that mean? Obviously he was hit by the unknown effect, but from what he could tell, something had happened and no one was fessing up.

"So," Rei leans down, "what exactly happened?"

He looks them in the eye even as they try to look away. None of them were going to leave this conversation without confessing, but if they weren't going to fess up now, Rei was going to make them fess up, and it certainly wasn't going to as nice of an experience as it would be if they confessed now.

"... We, uh," Rosho starts stuttering, doing his best not to maintain eye-contact, "you, uh. Got hit by the illegal microphones..."

"Yeah, I figured, sensei," Rei replies impatiently. Geez, what were they skirting around the topic for?

"Yougotturnedintoatenyearold."

Rei stills and turns towards Sasara. "Repeat that for me one more time, except actually comprehensible. I'm an old man y'know, these ears of mine aren't working as well as they used to."

"You... got turned into a little kid, like you were ten and had this cutest little plushie that you said was called Sen and you were super small and-"

Sasara is rambling, but only static silence filled Rei's ears. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Amayado Rei did not do vulnerability. Amayado Rei was a man with confidence, money, and strength. He was not small child who's only knew pain and misery, who equated himself as a useless existence. Amayado Rei was not that child.

"Okay, hold up," he holds his hands up to distract Sasara, to distract himself, "So you're saying that somehow I, as a 10-year-old, showed up with a toy I haven't seen in over thirty years, and was just chilling here for a bit?"

"For like a day, yeah."

Rei ignores the pitying and questioning stares from Rosho, ignores the questions that are on the tip of Sasara's tongue. He doesn't ask what happened, doesn't ask what they saw. After all, once Dotsuitare Honpo played its part in Tohoten's games, he would vanish. There was no point for attachments, even as he ignored the aching in his chest, ignored the fondness that was undoubtedly growing.

"Whelp, I've got places to be, things to do, and money to make," he grins at them, "Y'know how things are. Thanks for watching over little me, but I don't think he's going to show up again."

He walks out of the apartment even with Rosho stuttering and yelling at him, even with Sasara's suspicious stares, and oh boy, Rei really hoped he wasn't going to be nosy about this.

Amayado Rei would live his life with his head held high and unafraid for the future, unafraid of the consequences of his actions, and no one could tell him otherwise, not even the regrets that piled high at his feet or a trio of siblings that despised him.

He would survive.

#hypnosis mic #amayado rei #dotsuitare honpo #de-aged rei #child rei

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allsassnoclass · 3 years ago

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astronomy in reverse

Pairing: Roy English/Calum Hood Rating: T for language Word Count: 2016 Read on AO3

Summary: Roy and Calum go stargazing

Calum has learned more about the night sky in the past year than he has in his entire life leading up to that point. He attributes nearly all of his new knowledge to increased time with Roy. When the world stopped turning, Calum was suddenly confined to the house rather than a tour bus, for better or for worse. To an extent he’s glad: Roy and Duke are home, which is a pretty big silver lining. While he’s missed making music with the band and hearing venues erupt with fans screaming their lyrics and even the constant feeling of miles and miles of road disappearing under his feet, long walks with Duke and long nights spent wrapped up in his boyfriend have more than made up for it.

His favorite nights involve gazing at the sky while Roy talks about astrology or astronomy or cosmology or philosophy or spirituality or anything he fancies. One thing that Calum loves about Roy is that he’s always coming up with new, interesting ideas about the world. The first night they spent alone together in Bali was an exploration in thought that he could never have anticipated but was enraptured by nonetheless. He doesn’t remember the specifics of what they talked about, but he remembers that he fell in love a little, and even though both of them have different thoughts now, that initial spark has never gone away.

“It’s going to be a clear night,” Roy says while they’re eating leftovers for dinner on the couch, Calum keeping a careful eye on Duke so he doesn’t lunge for his plate.

“Yeah?” he asks. Roy clicks his tongue at Duke and offers him a potato chip, allowing Calum to relax and take a bite of his own food.

“Mars should be visible,” Roy says. Calum watches fondly as he scratches Duke behind the ears. The sun hasn’t set yet, and the natural light highlights his face in a warm glow. Roy is always sunny, even in the dead of winter or in the middle of a rainstorm, like he’s somehow able to trap rays within his skin so he can shine in every context. Looking at him grinning down at Duke now, Calum feels lucky that the universe aligned to bring them all together.

“Do you want to go out for it?” he asks. Their backyard is far enough from the heart of the city that they can see the North Star most nights, but Roy has found a place a reasonable drive away that lets them put together more constellations.

Roy smiles at him in response, giving Duke an opening to lunge for more chips. Dinner dissolves into a battle to corral an unruly dog acting more like a puppy than an old man for once in his life, but Calum doesn’t mind as long as he can hear Roy’s loud laugh and keep seeing him shine.

-/-

They head out once they clean up the mess in the living room. The sun is beginning to set, painting the sky in pastels and lengthening all of the shadows in corners of the city. Their destination is a hill in the middle of a park, a frequently visited little haven, but Calum is happy to see that they’re the only people there tonight. They park the car and Calum grabs a blanket kept in back. It’s a nice evening: cool but not cold, skies clear with an occasional gentle breeze. Crickets and the rare bird call tickle his ears as Roy grabs his hand as they walk, tilting his head up to look at the moon, a bright spot half-full even while the last of the sun’s rays illuminate the sky. He doesn’t let go when they reach the peak of the hill, leaving Calum to try to spread the blanket on the grass one-handed. It doesn’t work, and Roy laughs at him before taking pity and helping.

“It’ll be more helpful if you’d let go,” Calum says as they tug on different corners and try to lay the blanket down in sync.

“It’s important to challenge yourself.”

“Fuck off,” Calum laughs as Roy pulls him down onto the blanket next to him, holding their hands safely in his lap. Calum turns his gaze to the sky, quickly landing on the moon again. He lays down and settles in, pulling Roy down with him by their joined hands so he can talk to him easier while they wait for all of the stars to come out.

“Do you think aliens exist?” Roy asks after they’ve laid in quiet for a few minutes tracing the craters of the moon with their eyes.

“Yes,” Calum says automatically. He glances at Roy, harder to see now that the sun has fully set, but the upward angle of his lips is still visible.

“Why?”

“The universe is fucking huge,” Calum says. “There’s no way that there isn’t other life out there. It might not be recognizable to us, but I don’t think our little world is that unique. We just haven’t expanded our search enough.”

“If it’s not recognizable to us, is it still life, or is it something else?” Roy asks. Calum hums.

“I guess it depends. If we can’t recognize it as life then we probably wouldn’t consider it alive as a society, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t.”

Roy smiles wider, the way he does when Calum has a thought he particularly likes.

“Scientists talk about life-cycles of stars from birth to death despite not considering them living organisms like us, but I think that’s because subconsciously we know that we’re all the same. We’re all connected. Just because stars don’t breathe doesn’t mean they can’t be alive.”

“So the stars are aliens?” Calum asks, finding Polaris above them.

“Maybe none of us are aliens,” Roy says. “‘Alien’ implies ‘other,’ and there is no other. All of our differences are arbitrary, but at the core everything comes from the same place. Scientists said we’re made of the same things as stars. We’re part of the same universe and the same collective unconscious. Why shouldn’t that extend to the other creations we share the universe with?”

Calum hums. He gazes at the stars and tries to imagine them as alive.

“What about our phones and guitars and stuff?” he asks. “There are non-living things in the world. Where do you draw the line?”

Calum can feel Roy shrug next to him.

“Somewhere between stars and guitars,” he says. “Maybe stars are part of a bigger life. The Creator’s synapses.”

“And us?”

“His favorite creations. You are, at least. He definitely should be proud of what he did there.”

Calum glances at him.

“Are you trying to use God to flirt with me?”

Roy smiles, still bright in the dark.

“Just telling the truth. Well, as much of the truth as we can be certain of.”

“It’s called the truth because we’re certain of it. Everything else is called a mystery.”

Roy shakes his head. “You can figure out mysteries without having a definite truth. What I thought was a definite truth before could be something different now.”

Calum considers.

“And if I said that grass is green?”

“Fuck off,” Roy laughs. “I’m talking about bigger things. Truths of the universe in philosophy or religion. Things where truth is dependent on belief rather than something provable.”

“Alright, alright,” Calum concedes. “I get what you’re saying.” Roy squeezes his hand. Calum squeezes back, a silent transaction that makes him smile.

“Look,” Roy says after a moment, pointing with their joined hands up at the sky. “Boötes. Did you know that ancient cultures had different names for this constellation, but lots of stories for it call him a herdsman of some sort? More evidence of the collective consciousness and human unity.”

Calum hums, because he has heard that before. Boötes is Roy’s favorite constellation because he likes saying the name. Calum’s favorite is one that they made up when they were out in the desert celebrating Ashton’s album release. It’s hard to see this close to the city, and it’s probably only really visible in the fall anyway, but it making it was one of his favorite memories from the fall, both of them sitting in the same lounge chair and gazing up at a sky more luminous than this one, picking out different shapes and forming outrageous stories behind them.

They do a lot of storytelling in their house. Songwriting is its own form of storytelling, of course, but they also do more traditional sorts, recounting things from their day or sitting together entertaining each other with their imaginations. It’s an exercise in creativity, stretching different muscles that songwriting doesn’t always hit or that Calum doesn’t think to use in everyday life, and he feels like he’s better for it. If nothing else, it’s saved him from boredom in quarantine and has kept him from traveling in circles in his head.

“Hey,” Roy says, “what do you think happens when we die?”

Calum could never be bored with Roy around.

They spend more time discussing various questions and secrets in hushed voices under the cover of the sky, staring at the specks of stars far above them. Roy points out which speck should be Mars once he’s fairly certain he doesn’t have it wrong, raising their joined hands to the sky for Calum to follow, and Calum uses sightlines as an excuse to shift closer.

Roy knows that it’s bullshit, but Calum gets a kiss for his troubles.

They trade a few more words back and forth before fading into silence. Calum stares at the sky and listens to Roy’s gentle breathing next to him and the crickets hidden somewhere in the grass. He takes his own deep breath of the crisp night air, as fresh and clear as it gets near LA, and feels any lingering tension from the day leave his body. Out here, cuddled up to the man he loves and watching glittering pieces of celestial gas that might have burnt out already, it’s hard to feel like any of the things that typically bother him matter. There’s something to be said about contextualizing his problems against the entire universe, and there’s something to be said about doing that while trying to unwrap the universe with Roy.

When they delve into these sorts of talks, Calum always walks away with a worse understanding of the universe and a much better understanding of Roy.

Maybe that’s the point. Maybe humans aren’t meant to reveal the secrets of the universe, but rather to reveal their own secrets to each other. Calum knows the way that Roy thinks now. He knows why he loves the stories he does and how he views himself in relation to the rest of humanity. He understands Roy’s compassion and his love for the world they’re in. He knows who Roy is, and he knows a little more every time Roy asks him about things that Calum can only guess at.

He’s never felt like he knows anyone quite like he knows Roy. It’s more than the fact that they’re roommates and Calum knows what brand of toothpaste he uses and how he takes his coffee. It’s like Roy is a distant star, and Calum keeps twisting his telescope further into focus, and he knows that it goes the same way. Roy knows how he likes his eggs and which bass is his favorite, but he also knows the inner workings of Calum’s thoughts. He knows the way their hands fit perfectly together and when they have to let go to avoid them getting uncomfortably sweaty.

He glances at him, profile barely discernible in the dark.

“Hey,” he says quietly. Roy’s head tips towards him, breaking his staring contest with the sky. “I love you. I’m glad the universe let me know you.”

Roy doesn’t say anything, just brings Calum’s hand to his lips and kisses it, and they go back to watching the sky together, existing in a tiny pocket of space carved just for them and the stars.

#my writing #roylum #5sos fic #don't really have anything to add to this one #shout out to megs for asking if there was a screenshot when i got grumpy about the insta post this is based on being deleted

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starlightinhumanform · 5 years ago

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Discordant

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ships: Platonic Logince

Summary: Based on the amazing @tscampfireau (specifically this brilliant ask)!!~ When Logan gets caught up in questioning his identity, he can’t sleep and he knows that if stays in that tent any longer, he may actually lose his mind. He didn’t consider that playing his guitar in the middle of the night would wake one of his friends up.

Warnings (in order of strength): Some Angst, Discussions of Gender/Sexuality, Mild Language Throughout, (please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: Angst With a Happy Ending, Human (Highschool) AU

A/N: You don’t need to be familiar with this AU to understand this fic, but your life will be so so much better if you do check it out. I honestly enjoyed writing this so much. My love for music and the outdoors really popped out in this and I love the characters in this universe. Also I got the opportunity to stretch my platonic-writing muscles! It was so interesting to talk about questioning when that’s something I’m very familiar with. But enough rambling!! I hope you like reading this as much I enjoyed writing it! Love you all 🖤✨

Ao3 Link Fic Masterpost Fic Request Info

Logan stared at the thick woven thread that made up the material of above him. It was dark green, just thin enough to allow the moon’s glow to bleed through. Outside, the crickets sang brightly and the sound seemed to beckon him through the zippered door of the tent.

In the sleeping bag next to him, Remus was snoring at a volume level that could rival a chainsaw. Logan hardly knew this guy, but his breathing pattern was becoming increasingly ingrained in Logan’s brain.

He was tired and his head hurt but sleep was apparently not an option. Too many thoughts buzzed around in his head, filling his mind with a drone that built up pressure and made it hard to do anything but stare with glazed over eyes.

It was suffocating. It was overwhelming. It was wrong. Logan was supposed to be the one who knew everything, who always had things under control and had the answer to every question. But he didn’t have the answers- not this time, not about himself.

Logan turned his head to stare at the sleeping teenagers next to him. He had taken the spot closest to the edge of the tent so from here, he could see the entire group packed next to each other in the too-small-for-all-of-them tent. They all looked so peaceful, passed out after a day of questionable shenanigans in the surrounding woods.

Logan didn’t even try to push away the twinges of envy that were creeping into his mind. He wanted the peace that they had- and he didn’t just mean sleep. Everyone else in this tiny little tent was so sure of themselves; they knew exactly who they were and what they were. Even Virgil (who was generally excepted by all as The Baby) was comfortable and open about their nonbinary identity. They had all seemingly outgrown their questioning stages of life. And here was Logan. Stuck. Glitching. Like a thread of himself had gotten snagged and now the whole thing was unraveling.

He didn’t know who he liked or how he liked them. He didn’t know who he was. And it was eating him away.

Logan threw his head back into the pillow behind him. He just wanted to close his eyes and drift to darkness, ignore all of the question marks in his head until later. But if the past few hours proved anything, it was that he wasn’t going to sleep tonight. It would make more sense just to give up on the whole futile attempt.

He glanced sideways again at the pile. None of the others had shifted in minutes. They wouldn’t notice if he got up and left for a few minutes, would they? On his other side, his guitar was wedged between the side of the tent and his sleeping bag. He could just grab it and leave for a little while and the others would never notice.

Before Logan was really conscious of his actions, he was already tiptoeing past the tangle of bodies with the neck of his guitar in his grip.

The relief of stepping outside was physical. His shoulders relaxed immediately and the pressure in his head subsided. A warm breeze played the scent of firs through his hair. Far above, the stars stared down like a thousand shining eyes. He gazed back lovingly.

A few feet ahead of him, the last embers of the fire were quietly fading away. He grimaced slightly at the fact that the other hadn’t put the fire out completely but he couldn’t help appreciating the beauty of the warm glow that burrowed out from the dead ashes.

Logan sat down on one of the logs they had rolled over earlier. The quietness was starting to creep back over him; the charm of the crickets fading to white noise the colour of dirty snow as a thousand questions regained their throne in his mind.

He hung his head and tried to memorize the patchwork of leaves and pine needles beneath his bare feet. There was no pattern- just a mess. It reminded Logan of himself. Logan liked things that were clear and made sense but no matter how hard he tried, he could find nothing familiar or reasonable within himself.

Logan strummed a chord. He didn’t even think about it, no thought going towards the note or the sound he was creating. He just wanted to feel it. Strings pressing into the pads of his fingertips. Neck lying securely in his palm. Body resting against his lap. Vibration moving comfortingly from the guitar to his chest.

His fingers swept down the neck, catching the next note before the echo of the last had a chance to fade away. He found another note and chased it all the way up to the second fret. His fingers danced over the strings, weaving together a melody as his thoughts wandered else where.

Logan had spent years thinking he was straight; it was kind of the “default” of society. But then he learned that guys were an option and, hey, that sounded kind of nice too. When he hit middle school, people started to talk about attraction- er- differently and he thought maybe he was asexual. But that didn’t feel quite right either. It made him wonder exactly how he felt at all. For a while he wondered if he had ever been attracted to anyone. He thought for sure he would know what love was like. Maybe he just hadn’t experienced it yet. Maybe he was just a late bloomer. Maybe he had felt it and just didn’t know it.

He was brought back to reality when a drop of water hit the top of his hand. He blinked up the sky, trying to find the source of rain in the cloudless sky. He squinted up at the stars, damp eyelashes flickering against his skin. It was only then that he realized he was crying, tears dripping off of his cheekbones and running off of his jaw.

He shook his head and started playing again. He was pressing against the fretboard so hard that his fingers were beginning to feel like he had been playing for an hour. The muscles in his hand were sore and he could feel the strings digging little trenches into his skin. He ignored the sensation and picked the rhythm up.

Things didn’t get easier when gender butted its ugly head into the discussion. It changed everything. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to change everything and maybe it shouldn’t have changed everything but to Logan, it did. How the hell was Logan supposed to put a finger on his sexuality if he didn’t even have a gender to contextualize it in? Logan kept using the same pronouns because it was easier, because maybe he was just imaging it, because maybe he just wanted attention. He just wanted a box to check, just tiny little square he could stand in and say “Hey this feels ok.”

The body of his guitar dug sharply into Logan’s chest as a shuddering sob brought him slumping forward. He didn’t stop playing. He couldn’t stop playing. It was the only thing that he he understood right now.

He let the weight of his body fall completely over the curve of the guitar. The hum of the strings carried directly from the instrument and into his chest where it echoed back until he wasn’t even sure where the sound was coming from. It was just one long harmony, tiny whimpers mixing with melancholy strums that called into the darkness around him. If only an answer would step out of those empty, lonely woods.

Logan started as a hand landed lightly across his shoulders, causing him to jump and spin around.

Roman was standing there, one of Remus’ old volleyball jerseys hanging off of him and making him look like a neon-coloured ghost. His hair stuck up at ridiculous angles but his face couldn’t be more serious, “Logan? Are you ok?”

Logan hurried to wipe his face clear of tears, “Oh yeah. Why are you out here?”

Roman laughed without humor as he took a seat down next to Logan, “I think I could ask you the same thing.”

“I just couldn’t sleep,” Logan shrugged.

“So you decided to play your guitar loud enough to wake me up?”

Logan stared into the maze of trees so didn’t have to look at Roman, “Sorry about that.”

Next to him, Logan heard Roman sigh, “No you don’t have to apologize. I just want to know what’s wrong.”

Logan kept staring a mile ahead. He wasn’t exactly the best at talking about things like this, about himself. Besides he hadn’t ever mentioned this to anyone before. Whenever the others discussed their sexualities or genders he would step back and go quiet, walled off by his own confusion. He didn’t know how to join the conversation when his experience seemed so, so different than theirs. He would probably seem like an alien to them- so unsure of himself while they seemed so comfortable. Maybe they would decide he didn’t belong after all. He didn’t know how to join the conversation and he sure as hell didn’t know how to begin it.

But maybe now was the time to try, “Roman, have you ever felt lost?”

“You do remember how we met, right?” Logan could hear the ruthful smile that tugged on Roman’s mouth.

Logan turned to face him, unsure of where exactly this was going, “Yeah. In our freshman year.”

“Your freshman year. My repeat year.”

“Oh. Right,” Logan didn’t know what to say; he got the feeling he wasn’t really supposed to say anything yet.

Roman nodded like he was having a silent conversation in his head with someone else and they had just made a good point, “The year before and the start of that year, I had never felt more lost in my life. I couldn’t keep up with the year I was supposed to be with. I didn’t fit in with the incoming class and I didn’t know anyone there. I was separated from my twin for the first time ever. And I was still struggling to come to terms with my identity as a guy. I was cut off from my friends, my family, the people around me, even myself.”

“So what changed?”

“I met you,” Roman smiled warmly.

Logan felt his eyebrows weave together, “How did I do anything?”

“You gave me a place to stand, somewhere safe that I always knew would be there while I figured everything else out. You gave me a friend. You were always so there that you gave me the room to find myself.”

“Oh,” But that was exactly the problem. Because he wasn’t there, he had no clue where he was.

“So yes,” Roman bumped his shoulder into Logan’s, “I’ve been lost before. And you helped me find myself and my friends and even my brother again.”

“Oh,” Logan cursed in his head. He must sound stupid, but he didn’t know what else to say.

Roman leaned sideways to nudge Logan with his shoulder again, “You obviously didn’t ask me that just so you could hear some sappy rant; what’s up?”

Logan moved the guitar off of his lap and set it down in an attempt to buy time. He was staring off again, half hoping that if he stared into the dark woods long enough he would just melt into them. The other half wanted to explode and tell Roman every single thought bouncing through his mind. He sat forward with his elbows on his knees, “I’m lost.”

“Ok,” Roman spoke slowly, confusion evident in his tone as he began to rub his hand over the plane of Logan’s shoulders, “How are you lost?”

“It’s going to sound stupid,” A laugh escaped Logan in a breathy wheeze; it sounded sickly to his own ears, but he was far away. There was no humor in his voice but the situation could only be described as ridiculous. He was out here, in the middle of the night, sobbing like a man whose heart had been broken- and over what? Because he couldn’t decide who to crush on? He shook his head; he was obviously making too big of a deal out all of this, “It doesn’t really matter.”

Roman gave a similarly humorless laugh, “I’ve seen you cry- what? Maybe three times? This matters.”

“I’m just questioning a lot of things.”

“What sort of things?” Roman was clearly trying to draw more information out of him.

Logan teetered for a moment, stuck on the top of the fence and too scared to jump down. Except that’s where he always was, wasn’t it? Always questioning, always unsure, always overthinking things, always analyzing the path and never actually taking a step forward. He took a shaky deep breath. Maybe it was time to take the leap, “My gender. My sexuality. It’s like I don’t know where I fit in with all of it.”

“Oh.”

A beat of silence played into the night, filling the space between them with the quiet murmur that trees whisper at the dead of night. Under any other circumstances, Logan would have found it beautiful. Now it just served as an indication that he had said something wrong. He found himself counting out the measures as he held his breath and wished he could fill the painful space with something, anything. He wanted to start playing his guitar again, get completely lost in it, and pretend nothing else existed. He settled for clearing his throat.

“Do you need to?” Roman interrupted the silence.

“I’m sorry, what do you mean?” Logan sat up so Roman could see his confused expression.

“I mean, do you need to know right now?”

Logan couldn’t keep the annoyance out of his voice, “Yes, I need to know right now. I want to know who I am!”

Roman clamped his hands down on Logan’s shoulders, making eye contact so intense it made Logan squirm, “Logan, listen to me. You are more than your sexuality. You are more than your gender. You are brilliant and funny and the only person who has ever been patient enough to tutor me. You’re one of my very best friends and that has nothing to do with who you like or what pronouns you use.”

Logan glanced away, the pressure from Roman’s eyes and words far too great for him to hold on to. He tried to avoid that gaze, but more importantly he wanted to avoid the heaviness of what Roman had said. It meant too much. He tried to resort back to his annoyance, “How can you say that? You changed your pronouns; they sure as hell mean a lot to you. Why can’t they matter to me?”

He wanted his voice to sound bitter, to bite, to cut down what Roman had said. But his words were a whimper and nothing more than a plea. He dissolved into tears again and sank into Roman’s side, “Why can’t it matter to me? Why can’t I know too?”

Logan felt Roman wrap his arms around his upper body. He usually hated contact like this but right now it was exactly what he needed; it was grounding, Roman’s sturdy arms giving himself to hold onto through it all.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. It was kind of like dreaming- just fragments of broken thoughts floating through darkness. Roman’s shirt smelled like fire smoke and the scent drifted through’s Logan’s head along with everything else. He seemed to be thinking nothing and everything all at the same time. He didn’t know how to make sense of any of it.

Eventually he sat up, wiping his eyes and brushing his hair back into place as if that could save the shreds of his dignity, “Sorry about that.”

Roman had moved his arms when Logan sat up and he seemed tempted to wrap them around Logan again, “What? No, it’s ok.”

Logan shifted from side to side, “I just... I feel like such an outsider. Not knowing, I mean. You’re all so confident and I’m just lost. It feels like I’m missing a piece of myself. How do I find it?”

Roman seemed to take a moment to think, running his hands through his hair and staring off into the distance. When he turned back to Logan, his eyes were warm and full of little thoughts that bumped around the edges, “I think the first step is accepting that you can’t force it. Then you can just wait until you find something that feels right. And that might take a little while, but that’s ok. You’ll figure it out eventually- you always do. The problem you need to work on is being patient; everything will fall into place once it’s ready to.”

“Yeah, well, being patient isn’t exactly my strong suit,” Logan huffed a laugh up into the twinkling sky, “I hate seeing a problem and not being able to solve it or know the answer.”

“Logan, look at me.”

Roman’s voice came out in one low line of sound. It was more of a command than anything else and Logan felt compelled to turn.

“You’re not some math problem or crossword puzzle. There’s no x to solve for and the sooner you accept that, the easier it’s going to be for you to relax and let the answers come when they will.”

Logan glared at him for a moment because, as horrible as it was to admit, Roman was making a lot of sense. He sighed, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Roman gave him one of the sunshine smiles he had grown famous for at their school, “Thanks, Teach.”

They sat there comfortably silent for a few moments. Wind rustled the trees around them and the final embers dissolved into ashes. The moon basked the entire scene in an ethereal, cold light. For once, Logan felt like he could reflect the peacefulness around himself.

“And Logan? Don’t be afraid to talk to us. We’d all be happy to give you answers- or at least, the best answers we can. If I’m being honest, I don’t know if anyone is ever completely sure about this sort of stuff. How was it that you described the brain- ‘a couple pounds of gray tissue that reacts to electrical currents’ ? We’re humans and we’re messy and it can be hard to figure out what all those electrical currents mean. But we’ll help as much as we can. Hell, I’ll go to the library with you and we can spend the entire day there researching sexualities and identities if you want.”

“Thank you, Roman. That-“ Logan paused to take a deep breath. The sincerity and dedication in Roman’s words had a way of weakening his own voice until it was hard to speak in anything but a thin waver, “That means a lot.”

“No problem,” Roman gave him a smile that meant so much more than his casual words. He held it for a moment before trading it for a playful wink, “Now can I ask for a favour?”

Logan laughed and reached for his guitar, knowing what was coming, “Sure.”

“Play that song I like?”

“Already on it.”

The strings were cool, comfortable beneath the warmth of his fingers. His hand slipped quickly into the melody as Roman began humming. Logan would figure things out. It might take a while but for now, Roman was singing and the trees were whispering their song and the moon was turning everything silver and he could stay here a little bit longer.

If you want to be added to my Sanders Sides fic taglist, just send an ask or reply to this post :p

~ @phan-fander @abi-beehive @fandomfan315 @cas-is-a-hunter @reggieleigh07 @endless-rain-of-words ~

#logince #platonic logince #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #campfire!logan #campfire!roman #atomiktaco #sanders sides au #sanders side high school au #logan angst #ts logan #ts roman #starlight writes

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fabulouspotatosister · 5 years ago

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Sugar, Yes Please

Summary: You first meet the Doctor standing in your kitchen, opening jars of sugar.

A/N: This fic was inspired by this prompt by @drink-it-write-it on tumblr! Originally I was going to follow this prompt to the letter, and then it went in a different direction, but that is definitely still where I got the inspiration from. Enjoy the fic!

Word Count (bc man this got LONG): 6,991

Here’s a link to the AO3 version in case you vibe with that more

The café, for all intents and purposes, was your home.

With its old polished wood floors and pastel blue walls, it was probably someone’s aesthetic dream. You could look back fondly on the long hours you spent wiping down counters and delivering coffee to the college students that frequented the place. Every round table held a wealth of memories – if you looked between the cracks in the wood, you’d find conversations, sweet words exchanged over a pastry or bitter stares over glasses of cold iced tea, each time a microcosm of human interaction. Whole lives had been lived in the Heaven Café – people came and people went, each time leaving the place a little different.

After the original owner – a lady who wore predominantly pink frocks and frilly aprons and was very young at heart – moved out of the café after she got married, she gave you the keys to the second floor of the building.

They used to call her “Miss Baker”, and insisted the nickname be passed to you when you got put in charge.

The second floor was a nice apartment with a pretty balcony and big windows that let in a lot of sunlight and/or moonlight. It was strange for the first few nights, sleeping in a bed clearly made for two, but after a few weeks, it was second nature to fall into the cozy patchwork sheets after a long day.

The Heaven Café was your home. And wouldn’t you be mad if someone broke into your home?

The moon was high in the sky that night, and its light spilled into your bedroom, illuminating all the corners of the room and bathing everything in a silver light. There was nothing but the sound of passing cars and crickets. It looked like a good night to watch the stars and fall asleep looking out the window – until you heard a strange noise from outside the window.

You sat up. It was a wheezing, groaning noise, that faded in and out, growing to a crescendo until it finally disappeared. The building was an old one. You were no stranger to strange noises in the night, it came with the territory. But that was something you had never heard before. Pushing yourself off your bed, you leaned out the window to look at the street below.

It was still the same street, save for a police box that was placed further down. Weren’t those things really old? Did anyone still use those?

There was another noise from downstairs. Something metal, clattering to the ground, perhaps a pan or a tray. And then – panicked muttering. It sounded like it was from a young man, with a British accent… What was going on down there?

You tried to make sure that your brain didn’t go to the worst possible situation – that you were being robbed. Throwing on a jacket that you had draped over a chair and turning on the flashlight on your phone with trembling hands, you opened the creaky door out of your bedroom and headed down the stairs into the café’s kitchen. Why would anyone rob you? You didn’t earn much, just enough to pay utility bills and buy groceries; you didn’t even have any jewelry! And if you had anything of value it was probably just stuff that looked expensive, like a large apple sculpture that was just plastic.

The rooms downstairs, unlike the upstairs apartments, didn’t have big windows, just windows that were enough to keep the place cool and ventilated when it got a bit too hot inside. This had the unintended side effect of making the place dark as hell when it was nighttime.

The light from your phone’s flashlight was the only thing that pierced through the darkness, your phone’s case suddenly feeling very slippery as your hands started to sweat. It’s not a robber, you thought, trying to calm the panic that was rising up your throat. It’s probably just a rat, or something. But that didn’t explain the young man’s voice, unless rats could talk now. Which was stupid, since rats couldn’t talk…

You let your rambling thoughts keep you company as your bare feet stepped against wooden floorboards. At least it wasn’t frighteningly quiet anymore – you heard the sound of something being pushed against a counter, and then more muttering. After that was the sound of someone rummaging through utensils, the clink clank of metal against metal echoing against the quiet halls of the building.

The kitchen door was closed, but light spilled out of the gap between the door and the floor.

Turning off the flashlight on your phone, you turned the device over in your hands. Would it hurt someone if you hit them over the head with it? What were you even going to say? Who are you? What are you doing here? Don’t move? You weren’t intimidating. You were dressed in loose clothes and a jacket. The worst you could do was cry for help, which would only work if anyone was still awake at this hour.

Now that you were closer you could hear shuffling, and you could hear the voice that you had heard before a little clearer – saying something about sugar.

You took in a deep breath, releasing it through your nose. Holding your phone above your head like a makeshift weapon, you reached for the handle of the kitchen door, letting your fingers curl around the old metal.

Okay. Three… two… one -!

You flung the door open – but the sight before you was enough to shock the words out of you.

You were right about the clattering noise. There was indeed a tray that had fallen on the kitchen’s tiled floor, one of the muffin trays. The rest of the room was in disarray. Most of the cupboards had been opened and ransacked, bags of flour had been laid out on the floor and someone had broken into your sugar supply, the various jars of all the different sugars laid out on a counter. And in the middle of all that, behind the counter opening one of the sugar jars, was a young man in a tweed jacket with floppy hair and a bowtie.

You stood frozen in the doorway, phone still held aloft like you were going to bring it down over his head – the young man had frozen in his tracks, his finger held in the air as he was about to stick it in a jar of confectionary sugar.

Suddenly, the young man jumped back, slamming the lid back onto the jar. “Miss Baker! I thought you were closed!” he cried, backing up against the counter behind him.

So - he was the source of the muttering and talking. You still couldn’t wrap your head around how and why he was in your kitchen at an ungodly hour raiding your sugar. And why he called you “Miss Baker”.

“How did you get in?” was the only thing that came out of your mouth. “Did you break in?”

“I expertly maneuvered my way in,” the young man said proudly. His smile fell slightly after you raised an eyebrow at him – “I broke in.”

“I should be calling the police right now,” you muttered, and the young man nodded.

“You should be calling the police. Upstanding citizen, you are – but don’t, please.” He held his hands up in surrender. “I thought you were closed, and that I could pop in for a little visit without you getting mad, but I forgot that you tend to be awake at this hour.”

He forgot that you were usually awake late at night? You didn’t even know this man. “Why the sugar?” you asked, using your free hand to gesture at the jars of sugar while keeping your other hand on your phone in case he tried anything. Which he probably wouldn’t, to be honest, as he was quite tall and lanky and didn’t look built for combat.

The young man looked at the sugar, then back to you, clapping his hands together. “I needed some for some defense against some Yamar natives – they don’t have much sugar on their planet, so their bodies aren’t built for handling it. Like snails to salt, or so I’m told. I was testing these to see which ones would be the sweetest – you’ve told me this before, Miss Baker, but bakers on other planets right now would be very jealous of you, perfect defense against the Yamars.”

You couldn’t even form a good coherent thought. Yamars? Other planets? Was he talking about aliens? “You’ve told me this before”? Was this man crazy?

“I’m not –” You shook your head. “I’m not Miss Baker, you must have the wrong person.”

“No, no I’m sure I’ve got the right time,” the young man said, taking a look at his watch.

“Hang on – who are you?” you asked.

The man froze, his eyebrows raised in surprise before his face fell, disappointed.

“Oh no,” he said simply, sticking his hands in his pockets and suddenly looking very sheepish. “I’ve come a little too early, haven’t I? Tell me, do you know who I am?”

“Am I supposed to?” you countered back, and the man chuckled, looking down at the floor.

“Yes, but also no. Not yet,” the man replied. He took the jar of confectionary sugar and screwed the lid on tight, then bundled it into his arms like you would a small child. “It’s complicated.”

It was definitely complicated. The young man stepped over the fallen muffin tray, grimacing at the room. He squeezed past you, still standing in the doorway, his shoes making small sounds against the floor. “I’m sorry about the mess– I really must be off, thank you for the sugar– “

“W-wait!” you cried, turning to face him, “You need to come back and explain– “

But the young man was already gone.

You shook your head, lowering your phone, suddenly very tired after all that. It had been a long night, and it was very late.

Maybe this is just all some strange dream, you thought as you switched off the lights in the kitchen. Shutting the door quietly, your thoughts still racing at a mile a minute, you pulled your jacket tighter against yourself as you began the journey back upstairs to your bed, where you could forget all about the weird events of the night. I’ll wake up tomorrow morning and the kitchen will be clean. There was never a strange man there looking for sugar.

Nothing happened.

---

Something had happened.

You didn’t know why you woke up early the next day, before anyone else had arrived, to check the kitchen. Part of you wanted to be ignorant, to have one of your employees tell you that the kitchen was a mess and then tell you that it was probably rats because it should be rats – but there was another part of you that was curious, didn’t care if it killed you, and was okay with satisfaction not bringing you back.

The kitchen was still a mess. The bags of flour were still left on the floor, the jars of sugar were still arranged on the counter, cupboards and cabinets were still ajar, and the fallen muffin tray was still lying sadly on the floor.

You sighed, picking your way through the mess to pick up the tray – turning it over in your hands, it wasn’t damaged. That was good. God knows what the previous owner would do if you dented some of her equipment.

So last night hadn’t been a dream. The whole thing with the strange man asking for sugar had been unfortunately real, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your brain.

You were planning to call the police – but again, what would you tell them? A strange man broke into my establishment and took a jar of sugar. No, he didn’t harm me, he just confused me immensely. No, I can’t tell you where he went, because he disappeared. Go after him? Why would I do that? Lost in thought, you didn’t notice the door to the kitchen swinging open.

“This place is a mess.”

You turned around, muffin tray still in your hands, to see a young lady in an apron wringing her hands together – “Erica!”

“That’s my name,” Erica said, smoothing over the front of the Heaven Café’s uniform apron – hand-sewn by the previous owner for all her old employees. They were pink, frilly things. They were like hand-me-downs, and like most of the things in the building, were to be treated with the utmost care. “What did you do, boss? It looks crazy in here.”

“Long story,” you sighed, trying to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. Erica simply hummed and made her way to the center of the room, hoisting up one of the bags of flour. Erica was a fairly new hire, but she was nice and attentive and kept the atmosphere cheery even during the rush hour. “It was a weird night.”

“I’ve had a few weird nights,” Erica said, pushing a bag of flour into a cabinet and slamming the door. Her hand hovered over the counter, then sugar jars, her palm just inches away from the sweet powder. “Ugh, what’s with all the sugar? One, two… five… one of the jars is missing.”

“That’s part of the weird night.” You opened the cabinet with all the trays and placed the muffin tray at the very top, balancing precariously on top of a mixing bowl. “Why are you interested in the sugar jars?”

“For you, boss. I don’t touch the stuff.”

You shook your head. “Well, some guy just came in and took one of the sugar jars, talking about aliens. I thought I was dreaming.”

Erica was quiet for a moment, before she asked, “What did he look like?”

“It was late, but uh…” You pressed your thumb against your temple, trying to dig the young man’s description out of your still very confused brain. “He was a tall guy? He had a British accent, he was wearing a tweed jacket with a bowtie, I mean who dresses like that these days?”

“…A tweed jacket?” Erica glanced towards the door of the kitchen.

“Exactly! It’s 2020, I don’t know why someone would be –“

“Boss.” Erica tapped your shoulder. She drew her mouth into a thin line, closing her hand into a fist and bringing it to her chest. “Your mystery guy might be here.”

“What?” You whipped around, slamming the doors to the tray cabinet shut – the metal things clattered against each other loudly and you winced. Erica shrugged, her face reflecting your confusion.

“I mean, you said no one dresses like him anymore, right? He’s sitting by the window, just reading the menu.” Erica turned to look at the door again. “I tried to approach him and he said he was looking for Miss Baker.”

“For the last time, I’m not Miss Baker.”

“You technically are.” Erica shrugged. “Do you know him?”

“Why would I know him? He broke into the building last night!” you said, raising your hands up in the air. Erica raised her eyebrows at you. “What? I’m not going to go talk to him.”

“He’s a customer. And he is your mystery man.” Erica was already making her way to the front of the café. She stopped, resting her hand on the doorway and grinning widely. “And he’s pretty cute, not gonna lie.”

You felt your face grow warm. “He’s not my ‘mystery man’, I don’t know what you’re – Erica! Erica! Get back here!”

You only heard Erica’s laugh echo down the hall. You sighed for maybe the fiftieth time that day, running your hand over your face – the day could not get any weirder.

You were about to be proven wrong.

Erica was right. Your “mystery man” (God, why were you calling him that it sounded so ridiculous) was indeed sitting by the window – his face was covered by the menu, the only thing you could clearly see being his long hair that flopped against his forehead. To someone else, he would have looked like he was reading, but there were a lot of customers like him. People that came in just to hide. And he was hiding.

From me? Why would he be hiding from me? If anything, I should be hiding from him, the weirdo…

The young man peeked over the menu, his eyes darting across the room before they finally landed on you. The corners of his eyes crinkled and even though the rest of his face was covered, you could tell he was smiling – what kind of man breaks into your home, steals sugar, disappears, and then smiles at you like nothing happened the next day?

The sight of a young man dressed in a tweed jacket and a bowtie sitting in a cute café was a lot to take in. Grabbing a spare notepad and tucking a pen behind your ear, you made your way towards the young man, plastering a smile onto your face – “Hi, welcome to Heaven Café, what can I get you?”

The young man set the menu down, and your breath caught in your throat. Erica was right again – at this point, you probably owed the girl money – your “mystery man” was actually quite cute. The young man lifted his wrist to glance at his watch before smiling nervously and setting the menu flat on the table.

“I’ve come to apologize,” he said.

You customer-service smile dropped. “For last night.”

“Yes,” he replied, “although somewhat preemptively. It hasn’t happened yet. Or it will. I am sorry, though.”

“What do you mean, ‘it hasn’t happened yet?’” you spluttered, the pitch of your voice raising higher and higher and suddenly you were very glad there was no one else there in the café. “It did happen! You were there!”

“I was there!” the young man said cheerfully. “I will be there, and I know you’ll be very upset about it.”

“I am upset about it!”

The young man’s smile vanished. “Oh, you really are.”

“Give me a reason why I shouldn’t hit you this notepad right now,” you hissed, your chest getting tighter and tighter, your anger and confusion mixing into one messy cocktail.

“I’m a customer, Miss Baker! You can’t harm me.” The young man leaned back in his chair. “Or maybe you can – humans, always so violent.”

Humans? “For the last time, I’m not ‘Miss Baker’.”

“Then I suppose this is when you tell me your real name.” The young man grinned, something mischievous hidden in his green eyes. “The question is, Miss Baker, who are you?”

“I asked you first.” You glanced at the clock above him – it was still early, but it was almost time for the morning rush, when all the stressed-out office workers and late university students poured in for their daily dose of coffee. You couldn’t sit here and talk to this man – no matter how many questions you had, you had a job to do. “You know what? Let me get you something, and then you can explain.”

“Right, then, I’ll have tea. A classic. Very lucrative Earth export, in about a few thousand years,” the young man said brightly. Then he frowned. “No, wine. That’ll make me look sophisticated – no, wine’s rubbish.”

Before you could interrupt that the café didn’t even serve wine, the young man suddenly looked up at you, sporting a youthful smile. “What about a banana milkshake?”

---

The young man’s name, you quickly learned, was the Doctor. This didn’t answer any of your questions, because after taking a few sips from his banana milkshake he had run out the door, nearly knocking over one of your employees, Emil, who was clocking in late.

“I’ll explain tomorrow!” he had yelled when you chased after him.

“You’d better!” you’d yelled back. You thought you heard him laugh before he disappeared behind a corner.

The Doctor didn’t come by the next day. Or the day after that.

You would never admit that the Doctor had been the only thing on your mind for an entire week. The young man had an air of mystery about him, like he knew more than he was telling you. He had the face of a child but the air of someone much older – and you had gleaned all of this just from a seven-minute conversation and a strange encounter in your kitchen. For a mystery, he was surprisingly easy to read.

But aside from that, the week was pretty normal. It was the same old writing names on paper cups and getting flour all over your good pants. After a few days, you’d written off meeting the Doctor as a fluke, a once-in-a-lifetime meeting with someone who was just incredibly unique.

Yes, it might have been a fluke, but there was a niggling sense of missing out on something – like there was a whole universe that you had just brushed against, and whole new world to explore, and you’d missed it. One thing about working in a place that’s full of life, you thought, staring out the large window in the front, where the Doctor had sat, is that you’re always just hearing about it but never living it.

“Miss Baker?”

You turned around, letting a sigh escape your pursed lips. The sound almost became a whistle. “Emil, I told you not to call me that.”

Emil – a tall, sweet man with a very big smile – actually smiled one of his famous smiles, but a bit sheepishly. He rubbed the back of his neck, no doubt getting flour in his hair. “Sorry, it’s a habit. You know I got hired before you did.”

“That means you’re old, Emil,” you said. “What’s up?”

“Erica’s gone again,” Emil replied, “that kid. What does she do when we’re not looking?”

You shrugged, turning back around to face the window, watching the setting sun. Erica had a reputation for being young and a bit of a hotshot among everyone working at the Heaven Café. You didn’t think too much of it. “I don’t know. She is just a kid.”

“So are you.” Emil stood next to you. “But I trusted Miss Baker when she turned the place over to you. She was a good boss.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “And I’m not?”

Emil laughed, rubbing a flour-stained hand over your head, like an annoying big brother. Thank god it was closing time. “I don’t have anything against you, boss.”

The front door swung open. You and Emil turned around to see that a tall, thin man had just walked in, his hands in the pockets of a well-fitted blue suit. The man looked, for lack of a better term, sharp – not “sharp” as in “smartly-dressed”, but he had edges.

“Excuse me, sir,” you called out. The man turned around, one sharp eyebrow raised. He looked like you would get a paper cut if you touched him. “It’s late. We’re closing.”

The statement came more like a question, and the man raised his eyebrow higher, if it was even possible. “Sorry. Bit rude of me. I’m looking for something.”

Oh. British. What was up the shop and attracting strange but attractive British men?

“Sorry, sir, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Emil said. The man hummed in response, a pensive expression on his face.

“Wrong choice of words. I’m tracking something,” the man said, pulling a screwdriver from the inside of his suit jacket. Suddenly, the screwdriver began to hum and glow blue, and upon closer inspection was not a screwdriver at all. He swept the not-screwdriver over the room. “Have you two seen anything strange recently?”

Stranger than you? “No, sir,” Emil replied, his voice tight.

“I’ve just said it, I’m tracking something!” the man said. The not-screwdriver stopped humming and glowing and the man looked into the end of it, squinting. “Ooh, that’s weird. Weird readings. Are you sure you haven’t seen anything?”

“Sorry, what are you doing here?” Emil asked, stepping in front of you. The man frowned at him.

“I’ve been following strange patterns through time, and they’ve led me here.” The man said, raising his head to meet your eyes. His eyes were brown and deep and strangely familiar. “I’m supposed to meet you. Who are you?”

Before you could even say “I could ask you the same thing”, there was a loud crashing sound. And then a high-pitched scream. Emil turned to face you, his eyes wide.

“It sounded like it came from the kitchen,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Emil, I’ll go,” you said, furrowing your brows. “You stay here.”

Emil laughed, placing a hand on your shoulder. It left a flour handprint on your shirt. “Are you worried about me? You’re still young. I’ll go check it out.”

Another crash rang out – it sounded like something glass crashing to the floor and shattering – and then another sound of pain, but more guttural. It didn’t even sound human. Your stomach twisted with dread, and you glanced at the mysterious man, who nodded at Emil.

“I’ll come with you,” the man said, and Emil shook his head, already walking away.

“Stay here, sir,” Emil called out, then made his way to the kitchen. The man shook his head, chuckling.

“Sorry. I don’t have the best track record for following instructions,” he began. He paused, casting his gaze onto you – which was surprisingly intense from a man that was just so thin. Once again, a sense of familiarity struck you – you knew this man, but how? “Right, you. Who are you?”

“You first,” you countered. The man grinned.

“I’m the Doctor,” he said, and your mouth fell open.

No, he wasn’t the Doctor. The Doctor was that cute floppy-haired young man in tweed you’d met a week ago. The man in front of you wasn’t the Doctor – he couldn’t be the Doctor, because – “I’ve met the Doctor,” you said, a little unsure, “and he doesn’t look like you.”

“That happens a lot,” he said absently, “I think I’ve got one of those faces.”

Distantly, you heard a yell, and another metallic clatter. Your whole body jerked in surprise – it sounded like Emil.

Before you could protest, the Doctor grabbed your hand and dragged you to the kitchen.

You tried to tear yourself away from the Doctor’s grip as he stopped just steps away from the kitchen door. The Doctor still held on tightly to your arm. The clattering and yelling continued, and now you were definitely sure it was Emil. “What are you doing? We have to go help him!”

The Doctor raised a finger to his lips, his eyes wide. “Shh! Listen.”

Among Emil’s grunts of pain and the loud sound of metal and glass crashing to the floor, there was another sound – one that was more animalistic, like the growl of a hungry beast. But it sounded strange, like there was another voice layered beneath it.

“Hungry…”

“Stay behind me,” the Doctor said lowly, and you nodded. Raising his not-screwdriver, he took slow, careful steps towards the open door. His free arm was outstretched over you.

When you finally reached the open door, you fought back a scream – surrounded by broken glass and fallen trays was Emil, his face twisted in pain as he pushed against a slimy, pulsing tentacle. Your gaze followed the writhing flesh to its owner, some kind of wriggling mass that reminded you too much of a tongue to feel comfortable with it. The wriggling mass growled, keeping Emil pinned to the floor. He whipped his head to the side and met your eyes, his whole body trembling.

“Help!” Emil cried. You sprung forward to Emil’s side and tried to grab at the tentacle’s skin – if you could even call it skin. You felt a shudder run down your spine as your own hands became covered in the slimy substance that coated it – what the hell is going on?!

From the corner of your eye, you saw the Doctor, waving his not-screwdriver at the mass of flesh. “What’s kept you hidden for so long? Perception filter? Must be a good one if it’s hidden something like you.”

You pushed against the tentacle keeping Emil pinned tightly to the floor, but it didn’t budge. “I can’t move it! Doctor, HELP!”

“What are you?” the Doctor asked, squinting at the end of his not-screwdriver.

“Ya…mar…” the mass growled lowly, and you paused. Now why did that sound…

“I needed some for some defense against some Yamar natives –“

The Doctor joined you beside Emil, pointing his not-screwdriver at the tentacle. It didn’t do anything. “And what do you want?” the Doctor asked again, pressing his elbow into the tentacle and ruining his nice suit.

The mass made a low noise before speaking. “Hungry… Boss…”

You froze, your mouth falling open. Boss?

Whipping your head around to face the wriggling, slimy, mound of flesh, something caught your eye. Hanging off of it was a pink, frilly apron, now ruined and torn and slimy, hand-sewn for all of the employees at the Heaven Café… hand-me-downs…

“Erica?” you breathed out, and the mass moved, as if responding to the name.

“That’s Erica?!” Emil asked loudly.

“Boss…” it said, a young woman’s voice coming through underneath the growling, alien one. “Hungry…”

“You know her?” the Doctor asked. You shook your head dumbly.

“Employee,” was all you managed to say. “She’s an employee.”

“Whoah!” Emil gasped – he started squirming underneath the massive tentacle, as if trying to get away. A strange burning smell filled the room, and Emil started squirming harder. “What the – my clothes!”

The Doctor stared at his hands, then at his elbow – the spot that had been covered with the slime was being eaten away, revealing bare skin. “The slime’s corrosive! Wipe your hands on something!”

You quickly rubbed your palms on your own Heaven Café apron, watching as the slime you’d just wiped away ate through some of the cloth, leaving only an empty patch behind. Despite all the madness, you managed to sigh – the real Miss Baker was going to come for your head now for destroying her aprons. And for hiring a weird fleshy monster.

“What the fuck is up with weird things and ruining my kitchen?” you muttered.

“Oi, that’s quite rude,” you heard the Doctor say.

You looked up at the Doctor, who had his not-screwdriver out again. “Why hasn’t it eaten through our skin?”

“I don’t think it can. Unless – “

The Doctor was cut off by Emil screaming – the smell of something burning suddenly became the smell of burnt hair, and you assumed that if you didn’t work fast enough it would become the smell of burning flesh.

“What do we do?”

“It says it’s a Yamar, I’ve never met a Yamar!” the Doctor said, throwing his hands up in the air. “Nine-hundred years of time and space and I’ve never met a Yamar.”

“You haven’t? But you told me –“

The Doctor pocketed his not-screwdriver and pressed against the tentacle again, groaning in frustration. “I probably haven’t told you yet! Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey, and all that – I don’t think I’ve met them yet!”

You blinked. The other Doctor had talked about time, and knowing the future – if he didn’t know now maybe the reason why he knew then was because…

“…they don’t have much sugar on their planet, so their bodies aren’t built for handling it.”

“Like snails to salt…” you murmured. You stood up quickly, scrambling to get to a cabinet – “Sugar!”

“What?” Emil and the Doctor said in unison.

“I know what we need!” You flung open a cupboard to find your jars of different sugars, with one still missing. You took all the jars of sugar you could carry and bundled them into your arms. You opened one of the jars, taking in a fistful of sugar. “I’m the envy of bakers across the universe - Yamars don’t like sugar, so we should be able to-”

You threw the handful of sugar onto the tentacle holding Emil down and watched as it burned through its slimy coating. The mass made a shrieking noise, and retracted the tentacle, pulling it back into it’s large body.

“I’m alive,” Emil gasped, placing his hands on his chest, “I’m alive!”

“Right you are,” the Doctor said, helping Emil to his feet.

“No,” the mass gurgled, “Boss. Hungry.”

You stared up at the strange thing – you had to be dreaming. There was no way that this monster could be one of your employees. There was no way that there could even be a monster at all in your café. You had met Erica and she wasn’t like that. But there it was, standing and wriggling in the middle of your kitchen, and it had nearly eaten another one of your employees.

“Sorry, Erica,” you muttered, opening another jar of sugar, the largest one you had, “it’s been a weird night.”

You threw the jar at the wriggling mass; the sugar flew out and struck it, and the creature screamed, a terrible gurgling sound, as the sugar burned through its skin until there was nothing left but a steaming pile of slime on the nice tiled floors of your kitchen. You stared at the pile of slime, taking huge, heaving breaths like you’d just run a marathon.

A weird night. Definitely understatement of the year.

A big smile spread across your face – and despite all of the weird things that had just happened, and despite the fact that you were covered in cloth-and-flesh-eating slime, you laughed.

The Doctor ran up to you, clapping on the shoulders. “Brilliant, how did you know how to do that?”

You blinked. “You told me.”

The Doctor simply grinned. “I think it’s the other way around, Miss…”

A thought flashed through your head – it was impossible, but so many impossible things had just happened. And the Doctor was already such an impossible man - Screw it, right?

“Baker. Call me Miss Baker,” you finally said, grinning back at him. “Uh, do you want a banana milkshake?”

---

It took another week for you to convince yourself that what you were feeling wasn’t a severe case of FOMO.

The spiky-haired Doctor didn’t leave for a long time. He stayed with you until it was quite late and even after you’d sent Emil home to rest, helping you clean the glass and the slime and giving you tips on how to clean slime from surfaces. Eventually, just like the other Doctor, he left too, but he didn’t make any promises.

It still didn’t mean it wasn’t disappointing when he didn’t come back the next day.

You spent a lot of nights in bed thinking about that night. It still didn’t seem real at all. All the things that had happened made the café seem like a much more magical place – it was still your home, and there were still stories to be collected and told, but now there were things that were impossible written on the walls. You couldn’t help but smile everytime you walked into the kitchen – how were you going to tell new employees that the place had been covered in slime once?

The answer was that you didn’t. As much as you wanted to tell everyone you met, probably no one would believe you – no one but Emil, who didn’t show up the next day and simply left an apologetic, but somewhat incoherent, text message.

That left you to manage most of the café. It was a slow day, with only a few people coming in and out and ordering simple orders.

That left you to do one thing you were good at – thinking. You were good at thinking. And you thought a lot about that night, and how it could have gone differently. You could have asked the Doctor to stay, or you could have asked where he was going, or you could have asked if you could go with him. A chance at a real adventure had slipped by you again.

No, you thought, screwing your eyes shut. You were home. You were supposed to be content.

“Excuse me?”

You looked up. Standing in front of you, on the other side of the counter, was a very pretty young lady – her brown hair fell over her shoulders, her big eyes shining under the lights of the café. She smiled brightly at you, and waved.

“Yes, hello,” you said after a while. “Sorry. Welcome to the Heaven Café, what can I get you?”

“Oh -” The young woman looked up for a moment, thinking, and then she looked behind her. Standing not too far away from her was an older man, with a head of curly, white hair, his hands in the pockets of his coat. Was that a hoodie under his coat? The man nodded at her, and the young woman turned back to you. “A coffee and a banana milkshake, please.”

“Dine in or take out?” you asked, and the woman grinned.

“Take out,” she said, “sorry. We’re a bit busy.”

“That’s no problem. Just give me a minute, miss…”

“Clara,” she supplied, leaning over the counter. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

You turned away from her to prepare the coffee, grabbing a small paper cup and walking carefully to the machine. “Thanks! What’s brought you here?”

“Recommendation from a friend,” Clara said. You could still hear the smile in her voice. “I’ve heard good things about the place.”

“Like?”

“Good sugar,” she said, and you nearly dropped the cup.

You set the coffee in front of her with shaking hands and promptly made your way to the blender, the cogs of your brain not working. You dared a glance at the man Clara had come with. The two of them were talking now, their voices drowned out by the roar of the blender. Then the man had to be…

You gave Clara the banana milkshake in the paper cup and she muttered a quick “thanks” before handing it to the man behind her.

You stared at the man. He was older now, definitely different, but there was the same familiarity in his eyes. The corners of the man’s mouth lifted in a small smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Thank you, again,” Clara said hurriedly, placing a few bills on the counter, “We’ve got to go. Keep the change.”

“No problem, come back soon,” you murmured, still looking at the man. Clara nodded at him and he seemed to collect himself, raising a hand in farewell before rushing out of the door with Clara, disappearing into the street outside.

Yeah, you thought, still staring at the spot where the two of them had been. It was definitely FOMO.

Before you could get lost in your thoughts again, the sound of the door opening kept you from falling into a pit of overthinking. You wiped your hands over your new apron, ran a hand through your hair, and plastered on your best customer service smile.

“Welcome to the Heaven Café, what can I get you?” you said.

A blonde woman had walked in, dressed in a flowing lilac coat and suspenders, her smile wide and bright and awfully familiar. “I’ll have a banana milkshake,” she said, and you frowned.

What was up with people and ordering banana milkshakes today? You looked down, quickly noting the order. “Okay, ma’am. What’s your name?”

“Ma’am. I can never get used to that.” The woman smiled, adjusting a bundle of cloth in her arms. “The Doctor.”

Your head whipped up, meeting the woman’s eyes, and for all you knew the café could have disappeared – all you could see was her smiling at you, the same mischievous glint hidden behind new eyes. “Sorry I’m late, Miss Baker.”

“You already know my name,” you said. The Doctor shifted, removing the cloth from the bundle in her arms, and you gasped – it was your sugar jar, the one she had taken and promised to return, still in pristine condition with hardly any sugar removed. “And my sugar!”

The Doctor set the jar on the counter, resting her hand on it. “It’s served me well! Thank you.”

“You’re two weeks late,” you muttered, still frozen in place.

“No, I’m a few hundred years late,” the Doctor said, sticking her hands in her coat pockets. “I am sorry for that. I do lose track of time sometimes. But I did visit! You said to ‘come back soon’.”

“You were the old man.”

“Yep.”

“And the sharp man.”

“Yep, although I don’t why you call me that.”

“And the bowtie man.”

“I don’t regret the bowtie.” The Doctor pulled at her suspenders, still smiling widely. “Speaking of time…”

The Doctor stepped to the side, gesturing out the big window – there was an old blue police box parked there, standing underneath the shade of a big tree. It was the same box you’d seen, all those nights ago - “You’ve let me into your home so many times, I suppose it’s time I show you mine.”

“That box? You’re kidding.”

The Doctor shrugged, then tilted her head towards the box. “Do you want to see where I’ve been?”

And all those times you’d stayed behind, all the nights of thinking like you had missed out on something grand, something greater than you – all came flooding back. As the Doctor looked at you with wide, expectant eyes, you thought of adventure and finally living the lives you kept hearing about – and you nodded. You weren’t going to miss this chance.

The Doctor beamed, and took your hand. You clambered over the counter, ignoring all the stares from the customers – “Now?”

“When’s a better time than now?” she called back, dragging you out of the café and into another world.

And all this over a jar of sugar.

#jess writes #YEAH this uses a gif of elevn but all the doctors are there. dont worry about it.#i had a tough time picking out a gif #also this got WAY too long #it was supposed to be short and sweet but idk her apparently #doctor who #doctor who imagine #doctor who x reader #doctor who x you #eleventh doctor imagine #eleventh doctor x reader #tenth doctor imagine #tenth doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor imagine #thirteenth doctor x reader

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sourcherrybomb · 5 years ago

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SoKai Week 2020 - Day 2 - For ____ Eyes Only

Synopsis: During the time period Kairi was within Sora’s heart, she kept a handy mental diary of all the places and people she encountered. Let’s take a peek at it, shall we?

Sneak Peek: I’ve been in Sora’s heart for a little bit as of now. It’s a nice kind of… warm, if that makes sense. Like a perfect sunny day on the Islands. Knowing what kind of person Sora is, it’s unsurprising.

Tags: Light Romance, Adventure, Comedy, All Ages, F/M

Prompt for the Day: First Meeting / Unseen Adventures

Words: 3.5k

Fanart By: @softpinkbee

Entry 1: Welcome to Sora’s Heart. Population: 1 (I think)

Sooo… This is a thing that’s happening. All because of a stupid, literal world ending storm.

Oh wait, aren’t I supposed to start with “Dear Diary”? Not like I’m physically writing in a journal since I don’t have a body anymore… Ugh, Sora and Riku would probably poke fun at me if they found out that I kept one. Well sorry that I like to be sentimental and have a way of remembering and planning our future adventures, lazy bums.

I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? I’ll do this once to get it over with.

Hello there (mental) diary, my name is Kairi! I’m 14 years old and I lived on the Destiny Islands before I somehow ended up in Sora’s (my BFF and lazy bum #1) heart. That little mishap took place right after I met this weird old guy in brown robes in our Secret Place. I don’t know where Riku (my other BFF and lazy bum #2) ended up, but somehow Sora got sucked into a black hole that sent him… Or is it us? To another world called Traverse Town.

I mean the boys and I always planned to travel to other worlds, just not like this. We were supposed to travel by raft, I was supposed to have a body, and it was going to be all three of us… Okay maybe I asked Sora if he wanted to go alone with me, only to end up chickening out at the last moment, but this current situation is not what I had in mind!

Apparently these monsters called the Heartless destroyed our world, sending us to Traverse Town. I feel bad.

Sora was lost and alone. I knew because I felt it in his heart.

Luckily, Sora has met a lot of new people since arriving. There were these two girls, Aerith and Yuffie, that I would have loved to talk and meet with. Selphie definitely would have loved to meet Aerith, she was so pretty! Besides them, Sora also met this edgy guy named Leon (who kicked his butt) and a cranky old mechanic named Cid. More importantly, Sora met this talking duck and dog named Donald and Goofy. They’re pretty entertaining, so I hope they can keep Sora company since I can’t speak to him and we lost Riku.

I’ve been in Sora’s heart for a little bit as of now. It’s a nice kind of… warm, if that makes sense. Like a perfect sunny day on the Islands. Knowing what kind of person Sora is, it's unsurprising.

I just can’t shake off the feeling that there��s something… no, someone else in here.

Entry 2: Topsy? Turvy? Definitely Crazy.

Is it possible to have an out-of-body experience and a fever dream at the same time? Because that’s what Wonderland feels like.

Geez, where do I even start with this one? I guess with the talking rabbit entering the talking doorknob? Granted that rabbit was kind of cute, if not panicky. I could get used to that. Sora shrinking and entering a place full of playing card soldiers and a cat with a decapitated head (I think? He reattached it) are things that are going to take a bit to get used to.

Gosh, that feels like the understatement of the century.

I knew other worlds would be different than the islands. It’s just that going from a quiet city to a place where gravity is bonkers and playing cards can kill a person makes a girl really question what’s out there.

I wish I could take pictures so people would believe my words. Luckily this cricket named Jiminy has a journal where he keeps track of Sora’s journey. He stays safe inside Sora’s hood, so it’s sort of like we’re neighbors and journal buddies! I’d love to give him my point of view on things once I get my body back.

Oh one other thing before I forget, there was this one girl named Alice. I don’t know why, but she was giving off this really familiar aura. I couldn’t help but feel oddly drawn to her.

I feel like this won’t be the first time we come into contact with her.

Entry 3: Anyone else hear horns?

Like seriously, Sora and I both hear horns coming from this world, but neither of us have any idea as to where they’re coming from. This (extremely small) world is the Olympus Coliseum.

Sora, Donald, and Goofy got thrown into some challenges and ended up fighting waves of Heartless. Really makes me think about how I should have tried sword fighting with Sora and Riku. Sure, I’ve picked up some things by just watching them, but I think actually practicing with them would have helped me in the long run. I mean, I totally could have fought off that weird guy in the brown robes.

Ugh, just thinking about him gives me bad vibes.

Going back to the challenges, Sora totally got his butt handed to him by this guy, Cloud. It was way worse than the loss Sora took against Leon, I don’t think Cloud was holding back.

I’m thankful he didn’t finish Sora off. Partly because he’s my best friend, but also because if Sora bites the dust, then I’m also gone. It was rough seeing Sora lose again, but watching him take out a giant three-headed dog right after certainly was a sight. Although I swear I heard Hercules whisper to his little red friend, Phil, next to him that he weakened the monster.

Maybe. But since it felt like I was fighting alongside him, I’m not ready to count Sora out just yet. He’s grown so much stronger day after day.

Entry 4: Note to Self, Never Let Sora Drive

You know, if the three of us did leave on that raft as planned, I always had a feeling that Sora might fight with Riku over where to take us. Sora’s never been one for his directional skills, that was always more Riku’s forte. Because of this, I always mentally prepared myself for the event where Sora would get us super lost.

WHAT I DIDN’T MENTALLY PREPARE MYSELF WAS FOR SORA TO CAUSE A GIANT SPACESHIP TO CRASH BECAUSE HE ARGUED WITH A TALKING DUCK!!!

That’s not even where it ends! This Deep Jungle is nuts! There’s a leopard that’ll attack you like every five steps, there was a giant Heartless that turned invisible, and Sora even got a gun fired at it! Granted that last one was because of some hunter jerk with a stupid mustache, but if he’s from this world, he’s part of the problem.

The only saving grace was the fact that there are giant tree trunks that act like slides and as many vines to swing on as I wanted to. Tarzan has got to give me some tips when I have the chance to meet him, it was like he was flying through the trees! I’d honestly enjoy the chance to talk to Jane myself as well. She seems so smart and would have so much to talk about. I think she’d make pleasant conversation. That being said, when she showed Sora a picture of a castle in the slideshow, I couldn’t shake this sense of… familiarity. Like I had seen it or something like it before. But where…?

Even though this world and I got off on the wrong foot, once I get my body back, I’m definitely making Sora bring me here so I can do all that!

Although I still have no idea how that’s gonna happen.

Entry 5: I don’t know why, but this place feels oddly familiar

Today may have just been one of the best days I’ve had since I’ve been living in Hotel Sora’s Heart, over here!

For starters, dogs. Sooooo many dogs! Leon told Sora about all of these Dalmatian puppies that got scattered across the various worlds. They’ve been taking the time to rescue all 101 of them, and they’re absolutely adorable! Ahhhhhh, I can only imagine playing with everyone one of them.

Secondly, I’m finding Traverse Town a lot more comforting than I originally did. Something about the tall building walls makes me feel nostalgic. I never was from the Islands to begin with, but where I originally came from is a mystery to me. I don’t think it was Traverse Town, but maybe it was another city. I’m sure that in travelling to other worlds, I might be able to remember more!

Today I even got to talk to Sora a little bit, albeit by accident, when he and his friends wandered into this old tower. I looked around and said to myself that it reminds me of the Secret Place, all dark and surrounded by stone. I never expected Sora to hear or see me! I had so much more to say, but when this wizard guy showed up, Sora couldn’t hear me anymore.

But that’s not even the best news: Right after, Sora ended up running into Riku! He’s safe! It was brief, Riku ended up disappearing moments after, but now we know he’s out there and can protect himself. Sora was even able to protect Riku from one of the Heartless!

Never thought I’d see that day where the roles were switched. It suits Sora.

Entry 6: I hate sand.

I may find not having a body to be a major inconvenience, but for once I’m quite pleased at the fact considering Agrabah, the world Sora and his friends just left, was full of sand.

At its worst, sand was rough, coarse, and irritating. It already got into my clothes back on the Islands, but around here I’d imagine it gets everywhere.

That being said, this world has got to be one of the most adventurous we’ve been to so far! Desert temples filled with treasure, magical genies, all in a faraway kingdom? It’s like all the games Sora, Riku, and I used to play when we were younger. If only Riku joined with Sora back in Traverse Town, he would have loved this!

One odd thing though, we ran into another woman, Princess Jasmine, who gave me the same vibes as Alice! Turns out she’s more than just a regular old princess, but one with special powers. I wonder what it could all mean...

Entry 7: Did you know that the stomach would eat itself without the mucus lining its walls?

Back on the Islands when Sora, Riku, and I made plans to leave on the raft, we always wondered what kind of animals we’d see. The one that would always pop into our minds was a whale since they might be big enough to swallow us whole.

We always laughed it off and went back to working or playing, so actually getting swallowed whole by one feels very ironic. It’s a lot grosser than I thought it would be. Smells like fish everywhere you go, so I really hope Sora, Donald, and Goofy take some showers once they leave.

This whale named Monstro even swallowed this old man and his son, Gepetto and Pinnochio. The latter is somehow a walking, talking puppet!

But what’s even crazier is that out of all the worlds, Riku shows up here, only to kidnap Pinnochio! And not just that, I think he knows where my body is. Geez, Riku was being a real jerk about it, though. Said that Sora was fooling around and not helping, when I know for a fact that he’s doing more that Riku has! I mean, I’m in the guy’s heart, that’s gotta count for something!

I wish I could tell Riku that all this time, Sora has been protecting me. I know I give him a hard time every now and then, but out of all the people in the world, I’m really glad I ended up in his heart.

Entry 8: Rival Redhead Acquired

I know that my last entries make me seem like a jealous person, but mental diary, trust me when I say that I’m not usually one to be envious of others.

Until now.

Being in Sora’s heart, I sort of get a feel for his emotions. By all means, even without being inside him, Sora is pretty much an open book to begin with. It’s just that in being directly connected to his heart, I can feel almost every emotion he has. That includes the mess of emotions he felt when he came into contact with this mermaid named Ariel.

Yup, a mermaid. Atlantica is full of them.

It’s a pretty cool world! There are sunken pirate ships, an underwater kingdom, even a giant sea witch that Sora defeated! But nope, the thing that makes Sora’s heart flutter is another red head when he already has one right here! Ughhh, I’m really glad this diary isn’t physical, I might die if Sora or Riku ever found out I think stuff like this.

Still, Ariel isn’t a bad person so it’s not that I dislike her. She also loves adventure and wants to see other worlds. Moving past my jealousy, I think I’d love to be friends with her some day. Ariel and I are similar, but I think I at least have something over her.

Sometimes when Sora talks about me, he gets this squeezing feeling in his heart. Now I’m not gonna let Sora or Riku tease me over my feelings, I’m sure gonna tease Sora about his once I get my body back.

Entry 9: A lot more tricks than treats!

Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays. I enjoy going around to houses and getting candy, but I enjoy scaring Sora even more so. I mean, I definitely did that outside of Halloween, it’s just that the holiday made it feel special.

Needless to say, Sora finding a world exclusively dedicated to it is probably one of the best things I’ve ever found out! When Sora, Donald, and Goofy arrived, they even got special outfits to blend in! With Sora being a vampire, I could see Riku being a werewolf, but when it comes to me, I can’t choose between being a witch or a scarecrow.

There are even monsters! There was a talking skeleton who was surprisingly nice, a mad doctor, and a giant living sack of bugs! (It was super gross when he was defeated.) Sora got a bit squirmy when he died, so I really wish I was there to double down and make Sora sora yell out loud!

I definitely want to go to Halloween Town when all of this is said and done.

Entry 10: I miss candy…

So Halloween Town was fun for the thrills and chills, but felt severely lacking in candy. I may be a disembodied heart without a body, but my heart aches for something sweet! Which is why the 100 Acre Wood was torture for me.

Pooh Bear and I would get along. He loves honey, I love candy, it’s like we’re two peas in a pod. I too would probably get myself stuck inside a tree if I was desperate enough for a sweet snack.

Pooh’s other animal friends are all so cuddly and adorable! Out of the cutest, I’d have trouble choosing between Piglet or Roo. Tigger reminds me of the stuffed animals I keep in my room. Part of me really wants to hold onto him and see if he can bounce around with me on it, like a pogo stick! When it comes to Eeyore, in all honesty I kind of just want to give him a hug...

Honestly this place is a nice change of pace. No Heartless to be found, it’s always a clear and sunny day out. When it’s night time there aren’t any clouds so you can see all the stars in the sky. I remember all the stories that Sora used to tell me about the constellations instead of learning how to find his way with them. That was more Riku’s job.

I’m glad to know that what I’m feeling when I look up at the sky, Sora is feeling the same. Take your time and relax, you’ve earned it.

Entry 11: It’s a bird! It’s a plane! No, it’s Sora, Donald, and Goofy!

Forget swinging through trees, forget playing with countless puppies, and forget scaring Sora, when I get my body back, I’m making Sora take me to Neverland so I can fly up high in the skies!

Wait no Kairi, focus, there are more pressing things at matter. Mainly, Riku has become a full on jerk, has sided with the Heartless, and is dragging my lifeless body around with him! I mean, my eyes were open, but my body was basically a ragdoll without me in it. I mean on the brightside, Sora was absolutely brimming with joy when he realized my body was safe.

That may or may not have made me feel an indescribable amount of joy and embarrassment, mind you.

I mentioned having an out of body experience in Wonderland, but having a literal one felt even weirder. When Sora got close enough it was possible for me to twitch my hand a little, sort of like I was reconnecting with my body. Sucks that it ended up being dragged away, I was this close to getting it back. What sucks even more is that Riku ended up fleeing to this Hollow Bastion place with it.

Still it wasn’t all bad. Body or not, I was still able to fly around with Sora. He doubted that I’d believe him if he told me.

I don’t think he’d believe me if I told him what I’ve been up to in his heart.

Entry 12: Riku…

I’m back in my body. I wish it was as simple as Sora making contact with it, but things took a turn for the worse this time around.

I need to start from the beginning.

Right before we reached Hollow Bastion, Sora was able to connect with me. He awoke a memory of mine that I’d long forgotten since I came to the island: my favorite story that my grandmother would always tell me. Remembering it gave me this warm feeling, one that intensified when we arrived at Hollow Bastion.

Only to have that feeling crushed when Riku took the Keyblade from Sora.

I’m glad Sora was able to get it back and knock some sense into Riku, but for a moment Sora really felt at his lowest. Sora was able to become his old self again, but deep in his heart was so much hurt at the fact that he lost Riku to the darkness. Not just any darkness, but from this man named Ansem. He was the one who revealed I was inside Sora’s heart. Sora was able to beat the possessed Riku, but in the end he made a sacrifice I don’t think I could ever pay him back for.

Losing Sora in my arms made me feel even more useless than I did while I was inside his heart. Interestingly enough, when my heart left Sora’s body, I felt another leave as well. It wasn’t like Sora’s heart, but certainly had similar vibes to it.

Regardless, somehow I was able to bring him back from being a Heartless, but the feeling of losing him in my arms like that is something I don’t want to experience again.

We ended up leaving Hollow Bastion shortly after that. When Sora and I were alone, I was finally able to tell Sora that I was with him the entire time. I had so much I wanted to tell him, but there wasn’t enough time in the world. Not to mention all the unfinished business we had back at Hollow Bastion. I wanted to come with Sora, but he was right. It is dangerous, and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I didn’t really have any ways to protect myself...

I gave Sora my lucky charm. Wherever he goes, I’ll be there with him.

At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

Entry 13: For Our Eyes Only

Hi there diary, this might be the last time I update this formerly mental journal.

Sora’s gone off on another adventure to save Riku. He saved all of the worlds, but wasn’t able to save his best friend. If I was in Sora’s shoes, which I might as well have been, I would have done the same thing for either of them. As for me, I’m back on the islands safe and sound. Part of me wanted to jump across the darkness and into Sora’s arms once more. But after fighting for so long to keep me safe, I think the best I can do for Sora is to let this one wish come true.

I know he’ll come back for me. After all, he still needs to give me back my lucky charm. And when he does, I’ll make sure to give him this handwritten diary to help him understand just exactly what I went through on this adventure. No…

Our adventure.

---

When I started this fic, I was honestly thinking about dropping it and starting from scratch with a new idea. Quite frankly, I’m glad I decided to keep at it. I’m pretty proud of the result and feel that I’ve made a somewhat creative little oneshot!

Once again, thank you to the Sokai: Destined Oath Discord server for introducing me to SoKai Week 2020! Special thanks to the server member Gee for acting as my Beta Reader.

Thanks for Reading!

#sokai #sokaiweek #sokaiweek2020 #day 2 #kingdom hearts fanfiction #sora #kairi #fanfiction #oneshot #F/M #sourcherrybomb

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oxxofanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

Draco Malfoy FF 1-2

Female! OC

Monster From Hell - Draco x Female!OC

Chapter two

“Hogwarts leaves in ten minutes!” Someone yelled as Michelle and her brother entered gate nine and three quarters. “First years!” a man yelled at an entrance to one of the compartments. “I’ll see you after you get sorted, don’t make friends with the wrong people, stay safe, and don’t blow all your money on the trolli candy,” Fraser said, bending down to look his sister in the eyes, She nodded gulping. A smile appeared on the boy’s face standing upright, he ruffled her hair and brought her in for a hug which she of course accepted, “You will do great okay El, don’t worry about anything” He said as he hurried off, leaving the girl alone.

Michelle boarded the trail, her cat’s caddy in hand. It seemed almost every seat was taken. Until she came across a compartment with trash flowing out of it. She peeked inside to see two boys with enough candy to fuel an army of doxy’s. She lightly cleared her throat making both boys look up to her.

“Do you mind if I join you. . . there really aren’t any seats?” She asked nervously. Both boys nodded vigorously as food was in their mouths.

“Harry, m-my name is... Harry… Harry Potter” the boy with glasses fumbled around with his words, obviously nervous at the presence of a female.

“Nice to meet you, Harry, I am Michelle, Michelle Goodwind… and you are” Michelle questioned the redhead boy, who was still filling his mouth with copious amounts of candy.

“Ron Weasley,” He said slowly, swallowing all the food before he continued, “Pleasure meeting you Miss Goodwind, so… what houses are you hoping for” His voice was full of curiosity. Michelle not expecting such a forward question nervously chuckled and fiddled with her hands before answering, “Uhm I would be fine with any house to be quite faint. I think that every house has its ups and downs, all houses have characteristics but I think it honestly just depends on how you choose to see a house” She was careful with her words so as to not offend anyone who had a prejudice against any house. The boys seemed to take a second when taking in this answer, Ron just nodded acting like he understood anything she was saying. He leaned over to Harry and whispered “Ravenclaw for sure” Harry chuckled not really understanding the whole house thing for himself, he just knew Slytherin was bad apparently.

While the three we’re talking to, the door opened revealing a frizzy-haired little girl, “Has anyone seen a toad?” She asked obviously annoyed, everyone shook their heads. The frizzy-haired girl sighed. She noticed Ron was holding his wand, “Are you doing magic? Can we see some of your spells” She asked sitting beside Michelle, Ron grabbed his wand pointing it at his pet rat and said, “Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow!” In which nothing happened, causing Michelle to chuckle at the gullible boy. The girl cleared her throat, “Are you sure that's a real spell? Well, it's not very good, is it? Of course, I've only tried a few simple spells myself, and they've all worked for me. For example,” She pointed her wand to Harry’s glasses which were broken from a previous accident, “Oculus Reparo” Harry’s glasses suddenly looked as good as new. He mumbled a thank you, the girl gasped suddenly realizing who he was.

“Holy Cricket, you're Harry Potter. I'm Hermione Granger...and you are two...?” Hermione asked. Michelle cleared her throat and said “I am Michelle Goodwind, pleasure meeting you Granger” Hermione smiled at the girl nodding and then looked back to Ron, “Ronald Weasley, Just call me Ron” She nodded standing up ready to leave, “Pleasure. You two better change into your robes. I expect we'll be arriving soon.” She continued to the door, but turned around averting her attention back to Ron, “you have dirt on your nose, right here” She said pointing to where the dirt was, Ron rubbed his nose and sure enough, there was dirt, his face flushed red embarrassed making Harry and Michelle laugh at the poor boy.

. . .

Arriving at Hogwarts was a sight in itself, the huge castle is where Michelle would be spending months, years of her life. It was quite weird to think about how in a world with muggles there can be such a big secret like a different world in which there is such a thing as magic, not just pulling a rabbit out of your hat magic but real magic. Michelle brushed these thoughts away and continued to awe over the castle that was Hogwarts. The castle was an amazing piece of art in itself and its sheer size was impeccable. Michelle was snapped out of her trance by Ron dragging her along with Harry to a stairwell where all the first years were.

An older woman suddenly took head of the group, “Welcome to Hogwarts. Now, in a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you can take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Now while you’re here, your house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn your house points. Any rule-breaking, and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup.” All the students started whispering to each other giddy because in a few moments they would be put into the houses which they would spend years in.

Suddenly a blonde-haired boy spoke up “It's true then, what they're saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts” Michelle looked to Harry confused on how everyone knows who he is, Is he a celebrity? Are his parents part of the ministry? Why is that boy’s hair so light? Michelle snapped out of her thoughts as the boy continued, “This is Crabbe and Goyle. And I'm Malfoy...Draco Malfoy” Ron snickered at his name causing the Draco boy to snap his head towards Ron, “Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask yours. Red hair, and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley,” He then looked to Michelle, “And who are you. You look like you just saw a Zouwu” He practically scowled at her, bravery suddenly built up in her chest as she said, “Michelle Goodwind for your information, But its Goodwind to you… Malfoy” She said his name with quite a lingering tone. Which took him back since no one would talk back to him… he was a Malfoy after all, one of the most sought after families. Putting back up his walls he scoffed before returning his gaze to Harry, “ Well, soon find that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. Don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.” Michelle scoffed at his offer to Harry, “I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks.” Malfoy glared at Harry before going back to his ‘friends’.

Once in the great hall, all of the first year’s attention went straight to the ceiling. The illusion of a night sky on the roof, “It's not real, the ceiling. It's just bewitched to look like the night sky. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History” Michelle nodded to her as Michelle had also read that same book a few years back, she could already tell her and Hermione would be great friends.

The first years stood awkwardly in the room as Dumbledore was about to make an announcement, “I have a few start of term notices I wish to announce. The first years please note that the dark forest is strictly forbidden to all students. Also, our caretaker, Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that the third-floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death. Thank you” The first years stirred at the last sentence, a most painful death? Bloody-hell what type of school is this? Michelle was dragged out of her thoughts as Professor McGonagall “When I call your name, you will come forth, I shall place the sorting hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your houses... Hermione Granger.”

Hermione took deep breaths obviously worried as she got up there, the sorting hat laid on her head, it took a moment before shouting “Gryffindor” Cheers erupted from one of the tables, Michelle assumed to gryffindor. “Draco Malfoy” McGonagall’s voice rang, The Malfoy boy walked up there as if he owned the place his cockiness radiating from him, it barely took the hat a second as it screamed “Slytherin!” Michelle rolled her eyes at the boy as she walked over to the table. “Michelle Goodwind” Michelle’s feet suddenly became heavy, nervousness filling her up, she quickly walked up to the stool, sitting down, her head hanging low out of embarrassment. What if she got the wrong house? What if no one in her house likes her? The hat suddenly spoke to her quietly, “Smart like a Ravenclaw, Brave like a gryffindor. . . heart of a… Slytherin, that can’t be…” The hat continued mumbling random things before it yelled out “Hufflepuff!” Loud yells came from the table as she quickly walked over to the table, She looked over to the slytherin table to see her brother smiling at her and holding a thumbs up, which she returned. A tap on her shoulder got her out of her gaze, she turned to see a boy who was around two years older, maybe three.

“I’m Cedric… Cedric Diggory. If you need any help just ask me” He said with a smirk as he returned to talking to his friends. Michelle refocused on the sorting hat, as it was now Ron’s turn, the hat quick to shout gryffindor. Lot’s of Gryffindor’s must be quite the popular house, Michelle thought to herself. Then it was Harry’s he was mouthing something to the hat when it suddenly rang out “Gryffindor!” Michelle clapped for the boy seeing as he was more nervous than she was.

It definitely did make her feel weary as her only two friends she slightly knew, weren’t even in the same house as her, she would have to start all new with new friends and socialize something Michelle wasn’t exactly keen at. “Let the feast begin!” Dumbledore’s voice rang causing Michelle to snap out of her thoughts. Food suddenly appeared in front of her. Someone tapped her other shoulder and she turned to see a boy around her age, “Hello I-I’m Ernest Macmillian, I’m quite nervous about the first year, what about you” Michelle smiled faintly at the boy, “Me too Ernest, I am so nervous that no one will like me or I won’t have any friends, though I know that should be the least of my concerns, I just need to focus on my grades for now,” She smiled at him before realizing she hadn’t introduced herself, “My I am so sorry, I am Michelle Goodwind” He smiled at her, “Well Michelle I hope we do become good friends, oh and this is Hannah Abbot my other friend” He said as a blonde girl suddenly held out her hand for Michelle to shake, She gladly accepted. “Nice to meet you two, I hope we do become quite close friend,” Michelle said smiling brightly.

“Hufflepuff commons this way!” The prefect of the hufflepuff house yelled out.

“Why are we headed to the kitchen?” Michelle whispered to Cedric, “Our common room is just outside the kitchen… Did- Did you not read up on any of the houses before getting here” Cedric answered his head slightly ticked to the side halfway through the sentence, “I did, my ancestor is Helga Hufflepuff herself must I add, I just… forgot that our doors are the-” “barrels!” The prefect suddenly yelled, “Now to enter the common room for hufflepuff, we must tap on the barrel in a rhythmic pattern that sounds like Helga Hufflepuff, for example, Hel-Ga Huffle-Puff” The barrel suddenly opened revealing a very earthy and homey common-room, Plants splattered around the place. A warm feeling filled the room; it was a very humble common room. “Every few weeks or so the barrel will change, meaning you will have to knock on a different barrel, but the rhythm of Hel-Ga Huffle-Puff will not change, and I wouldn’t get the password wrong if I were you, doused and vinegar and denied access if you tap the lids incorrectly… so be careful. The boys’ dorms are through that door and the girls to the right door. Do keep in mind the Hufflepuff commons are one of the most secure common rooms in the whole school, not one person who isn’t hufflepuff has stepped foot in this room since built!” The prefect boasted, “Oh and for our taller first years, please watch your head at the doors… they are rather small, and well… circular”

Michelle made herself at home as she sat at the small couch facing the fireplace, a carpet with a Badger and the words “You might belong in Hufflepuff, Where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuffs are true, And unafraid of toil.” Michelle chuckled at the sweet motto, she assumed her ‘grandmother’ came up with. “Goodwind! You have to come and sort out your stuff.” A voice called to her, she looked back to see Hannah, she nodded and smiled getting up from her seat. Her feet scoured over the hard wooden floors and quickly into the round doorway that leads to the girls’ dorms. It was a tunnel and not a quite tall one either, it was no bigger than six feet most likely. The walls were adobe just like the common room, and once inside the girl’s dorm four beds were against the walls, small windows near the ceiling since after all, it was a basement.

The four beds had matching quilts, similar to the ones that had been in Michelle’s family for centuries. The room had a faint orange-yellow glow from the copper lamps that laid on each bedside table. Michelle’s hand gently went over the quilt, she missed home dearly but this was a new start for her.

Soon everything was unpacked and was just perfect… or as close to perfect it could get to. Michelle’s desk was neatly arranged, extra ink pots in the drawer, a blank sheet of paper ready for writing, her envelopes along with extra paper in other drawers, her books neatly stacked under her desk to save space, also on the floor was a small scratch post and cat bed for Fluffy.

“So what’s your first period” A voice rang behind Michelle, she turned around quickly and saw a strange girl, with short hair and bangs almost covering her eyes, “W-Who are you,” Michelle asked relieved it wasn’t some sort of ghost of Hogwarts spying on her.

“I am Fiadh Monagall, and you are Michelle Goodwind… correct?” Michelle slowly nodded towards Fiadh.

“Quite a name you’ve got is it spelled, F.E.E.D.A?” Michelle asked at the irregular name, “No silly, it’s F.I.A.D.H… Fia-dh, Jesus does no one here know how to spell I mean blimey it is a regular name where I’m from!” She exclaimed as she laid down on the bed near Michelle’s.

“Irish- I-I mean your Irish? The name origin if I’m correct is Irish, meaning untamed-” “Actually it means wild but you are correct” Michelle smiled at the girl, studying Ireland did pay off or so it seems.

“Wait how- how do you know my name?” Michelle questioned.

“Your brother, he is in my year… we’re not exactly on good terms but I heard him talking about his ‘Hufflepuff’ sister… it’s not hard to connect the dots you know, Goodwind and Goodwind… it’s no secret” She said shrugging. Michelle let out a little groan… people would think she was like her brother… which is something in Michelle did not look forward to.

“So tell me Goodwind, most siblings are in the same house… but it seems you two are polar opposites”

“How is that, polar opposites?” Michelle inquired.

“Your brother is the embodiment of slytherin, ambitious, cunning, and resourceful, and last but certainly not least… rude” Fiadh said crossing her arms when it came to rude, Which made Michelle ponder, how does this girl know so much about my brother?

“And you on the other hand… Organized, kind, obviously charismatic, attractive… diligent as well, so how come you two are so… far apart?” Fiadh asked.

“You’re acting like being those things is bad, you are as much of those things as I am,” Michelle said, causing Fiadh to chuckle.

“You are correct, it’s just… when I knew your brother- well- he would talk- he would talk about you like you we’re some movie star he had met, it was ‘Michelle this’ and ‘Michelle that’-”

“Are you jealous of me being Fraser’s sister? May I ask what your relationship with him even was?” Michelle asked, outraged by the girl’s immature behavior. Fiadh seemed to stumble with her words before saying, “Yes I was, was! I no longer am of course it just-”

“What was your relationship with him, Fiadh?” Michelle asked carrying out the what.

“We- We had a thing-” “A thing you were twelve, what thing could you possibly have at twelve?” Michelle asked dumbfounded by the girl’s etiquette.

“I know it wasn’t a thing but it was a crush, and he would just talk about back home, you, his mother, and never even gave me the time of day! Do you know how that feels”

Michelle sighed disappointed at the girl who she thought would have been more mature, “No I haven’t, because I can actually keep my hormones in check unlike you,” Michelle spat at Fiadh. She seemed taken back by what Michelle said, a sad look washed over her face.

“Your right, I’m too young to fall in ‘Love’” Fiadh said, Michelle noticed this mood change and suddenly felt guilty for how she talked to the older girl, “Fiadh look I’m sorry it’s just… to be honest… my brother is a complete and utter idiot so I can’t understand why you would even like him in the first place” Michelle sat next to the girl smiling causing Fiadh to chuckle slightly, “Yeah… your right” Fiadh and Michelle then started to giggle at the thought of Fraser since he truly was quite an idiot. After the giggling subsided they both went to their separate beds turning off the lights as sleep caught way to both of the Hufflepuff girls.

#draco malfoy #draco x hufflepuff!reader #draco x female reader #hufflepuff #slytherin x hufflepuff #harry potter #hogwarts #cedric diggory #wizard #slytherin #female #female oc

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galadrieljones · 4 years ago

Text

As You Were (Chapter 10)

Fandom: The Last of Us | Pairing: Joel x OC | Content: Fix-it, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Found Family, Joel Lives | Rating: Mature

Masterpost

Summary:

When Joel and Ellie take a wrong turn on their journey from Pittsburgh to Wyoming, they find themselves lost in what feels like a time warp: a beautiful place with a dark and dangerous secret, filled with painful reminders of the past. But they aren’t alone. When they meet Cici and Noah, a mother and son fighting tirelessly for survival, things change. For those with little hope to spare, family is what you make it.

This is an AU, starting after the events of the Summer chapter in the first game, and extending into the timeline of the second.

Chapter 10: The Yellow Brick Road

“Goodnight, baby girl.”

Around ten or so, Ellie was sitting in the window of the farmhouse, looking out at the rain. She was carving into a piece of wood with her knife, something she’d picked up outside. Her carvings had no direction and no intentionality. She didn’t know how to carve shapes out of wood, but she thought that would be neat to learn someday.

“Hey, Ellie. Do you want some cocoa?” said Cici. She was heating milk in a pan on the stove. She had her hair down and she was wearing soft pajamas. She looked pretty and mild in a way that seemed to Ellie as effortless.

“You guys have cocoa?” said Ellie.

Cici smiled. “We do. But no marshmallows, I’m sorry to report.”

“I definitely want some cocoa."

They all sat around in the living room, drinking their cocoa, which was delicious. Cici had some music playing quietly on the record player. It was Elton John, his Goodbye, Yellow Brick Road album from the 1970s. Ellie didn't recognize it, but like with most things she had never experienced before, she thought it was pretty neat. The music didn’t seem to bother Danielle and Becky and it brought a sort of nice, old fashioned feel to the house as if all was normal and everything would be okay, even if somewhat haunted by the past. Danielle and Becky were worried about Danielle’s father Jeb, and her brother Zach, who had been out hunting since that morning. They were supposed to be gone overnight, but the storm and the Infected was putting pressure on the situation.

“They’ll shoot if they have to,” said Danielle, comforting Becky with her hand on her knee. Danielle was sturdier and less concerned. She was also not pregnant. That seemed to make a difference, thought Ellie. “They know what to do.”

“I locked your house tight,” said Cici. “No more sick will get in.”

“What if they break through the windows?” said Becky.

“They would only do that if there was something inside they wanted,” said Cici. “The house is dark and quiet, which is important. The sick are generally less active at night around here, because there’s just less sound.”

“Thank you,” said Becky, her red hair still braided tightly to her head, though it was getting piecey around her temples. “That’s a good reminder.”

Ellie sipped her cocoa, looking down into its chocolatey depths, thinking about how Cici was thoughtful in the way she referred to them as “sick.” The Amish girls did not seem to look at the Infected as if they were inhuman, but as if they were merely humans who had gotten sick. What if the people are still inside? Sam had said.

I'm scared of that happening to me.

Cici came over and sat down next to Ellie. Together they looked down at their cocoa, then back to the fire. Danielle had gone to the kitchen for a glass of water, and Becky had gone with her. She seemed too anxious to be alone. They were leaning against the counter now, and speaking another language, which Ellie obviously did not recognize.

“They’re speaking some sort of German,” said Cici, like she had read her mind.

“That’s so cool,” said Ellie. “What do you think they're talking about?”

”Probably Noah.”

”Noah?”

”Danielle has a crush on Noah,” said Cici, taking a sip from her cocoa. “She always has.”

”Seriously?” said Ellie.

”Yeah,” said Cici. She had her hands tucked into her sleeves. You could only see the tips of her fingers where she held the mug. “I think he liked her, too, but it was short-lived, more than a year ago, and he’s very stoic.”

”What happened?”

“William died,” said Cici, shrugging. “Noah sort of gave up after that. On a lot of stuff.”

”Geez,” said Ellie. “I’m sorry.”

”Don’t worry. I think he's finally starting to come back around,” said Cici. “But at the end of the day, Danielle’s Amish, and Noah’s not. Her religion would never allow it anyway.”

”Religion?” said Ellie. “Why would that matter? Aren’t there more important things?”

Cici shrugged. “Maybe to us.”

A little bit later, Ellie thought she saw a set of headlights come swooping up the hill, some ways down the driveway, out behind the electric gate near the trees. Ellie got spooked. She realized who it had to be, and she set down her cocoa on the coffee table and went running for the window.

“Ellie?” said Cici.

She could feel everybody looking. She touched the glass. “They’re back,” she said.

“Should you call your mom on the radio?” said Joel. He was pulling in through the trees, up the long driveway, toward the gate. It was dark, deathly quiet. “I don’t think they’re expecting us so soon.”

Noah had been quiet for most of the ride. He said, “Yeah, I'm on it.”

He took out the walkie as Joel put the truck into park, but then he thought he saw something unsettling waver over by the tree line, kind of a scribbly noise in the dark. He killed the engine, gestured for Noah to be quiet. Together, they listened. They could hear the crickets, the wind in the trees.

Then, the walkie went off. It was Cici, startling them both. She said, “Noah, is that you guys? Over.”

In the long night of the silent countryside, even the slightest disturbance could draw out the enemy. Joel shook his head, and Noah turned off the radio. Coming out of the trees then, almost immediately, interested in the sound from the truck, it was a clicker. Then one more. Then another. Noah and Joel both picked up their guns.

"If we molotov those things, more will just come out of the trees," said Noah.

“I’m guessing the fence is hot,” said Joel.

“Definitely,” said Noah.

“We need your mom to turn off the fence so we can get inside. They’re clickers, so I reckon we can make it, if we’re quiet.”

Noah turned on the walkie. He said, softly. “Mom. Do you copy? It’s us, but there’s a problem. Over.”

The frequency was quiet. Nobody was responding.

“Mom?” said Noah. “Mom, are you there?”

There was a tussle then. It was Ellie. She had picked up the radio. “Noah?” she said. “Is it you guys?”

“It’s us,” he said. “Hey. Where’s my mom?”

“She’s heading out to the crow’s nest. She told me to stay here until she radioed.”

“Shit,” said Noah. “Is the fence hot?”

“Yeah,” said Ellie. “She said to turn it off when she gives the all-clear.”

Noah looked at Joel, who took the walkie. “Ellie?” he said.

“Joel?” said Ellie. She sounded relieved to hear his voice. “Hey. Holy shit. Are you guys okay?”

“We’re fine,” said Joel. “But we got clickers, outside the electric fence. We’re still in the truck.”

“Clickers?” said Ellie

A floodlight came on overhead then, sudsing the earth with pure white light and surprising the hell out of them. Joel had to shield his eyes. The sound it made, a great, electric humming, was enough to draw attention from the clickers, who screamed.

“Ellie, kill the fence,” said Joel, fixing to get the hell out of there.

“What about Cici?” she said.

“Just do it.”

Ellie obeyed. They both exited the truck at the same time. Something exploded behind them then, a long, fiery curtain. They stumbled forward, and the clickers went straight to the fire—them and twenty more, emerging from the darkness. Joel and Noah made a break for the gate. Noah hauled it open, but its convulsive moaning brought some more Infected out of the trees. Joel fired his pistol a few times into the darkness, then pulled the gate closed behind them, dropped the latch, and shouted into the radio for Ellie to hit the power. Ellie confirmed. They backed away then as a handful of runners rushed the fence. They were gutted by the electricity and burned to death in minutes, crumbling into char. The smell was terrible. Soon, all went quiet aside from the fire burning through on the other side, crackling as an ode to summer.

“What the hell just happened?” said Joel. It must have been two molotovs, maybe three to start a fire that fast and big.

“Mom?” Noah shouted up, toward the crow’s nest

“It was me,” said Cici. She was climbing down the ladder.

"It was you?" said Joel.

“Thank Jesus that worked.” Cici almost started crying as her boots hit the ground. She had been carrying her rifle which she dropped when she saw Noah. She ran to him and grabbed him by the ears. He hugged her tight, picked her up off the ground. “Thank god,” she said. “Thank god you’re okay.” Then she looked at Joel. “Thank you, Joel. Thank you.”

Joel simply nodded chivalrously, having done his part. Then, looking away so as to spare them their privacy and switched on the radio again. He said, “Good work, Ellie.”

“I’ll come out and meet you,” she said.

“No, you stay right there, where it’s safe,” said Joel. “I’m coming. Over and out.”

Ellie waited on the porch. She was ringing her hands. She hadn't realized how freaked out she'd been until that very moment. When Noah and Cici came up first, they were talking about things she couldn’t hear. Ellie watched them with a strange kind of longing and excitement, even as she felt she should probably look away. She couldn’t help it. Noah had his arm around Cici's shoulders, seemed to be reassuring her about something. Ellie had never known that sort of love before, or ever really even seen it up close. She found it to be fascinating, like watching a movie, but she was in it.

Noah saluted her as they walked by and said, “All clear, cap'n.”

She laughed.

Joel was coming up, too. He was looking around, as if on patrol. When he saw her though, he dropped his guard and smiled in this kind of bashful way. Then he came up the steps and hooked his thumbs over his belt. "Hey there," he said.

Ellie was relieved to see him. She was relieved that he was not dead. And it was not just seeing him that put her at ease. It was his bigness, and how he filled his space. His familiar smell and how it never seemed to change. She held her hands behind her back now and said, “Hey. You made it.”

"I told you we would,” said Joel. He reached behind him then, took something out of his back pocket. It was all rolled up. “You did good back there. You and Cici both. You saved us.”

“Thanks,” she said.

“I got this for you.” He handed her the sweatshirt.

Ellie took it, shocked and confused. She immediately fanned it out, and got excited. “Holy shit,” she said. “This is for me?”

“Yes ma’am,” said Joel. “Try it on. Make sure it fits.”

She tugged it over her head and held her arms down by her sides. It was soft inside. It fit perfectly. She looked right at him and said. “How do I look?”

“Very collegiate,” said Joel. He rumpled her on the hair, once. She thanked him, stood there vibrating, just for a minute. Then she followed him into the house.

There was a moment that evening when Joel felt himself living a momentary crisis. Keenly aware of all that had happened, he sipped cocoa and looked down at his hands. He had felt a seam rip, somewhere inside his chest, exposing a raw piece of his memory from the past twenty years. He could not pinpoint when it had happened, but he felt it now. Cold inside, he was looking out the window and leaned with his forehead on the glass. Cici had turned off the floodlight, leaving the night as quiet as it had been when they’d arrived.

At some point, Danielle, the Amish girl with the yellow hair came up beside him and stood as little and straight as a candle. It sort of took him by surprise. She said, “Hello, Joel.”

She had been introduced to him earlier. Her and her pregnant sister-in-law. Joel glanced down at her and straightened up proper, a product of his good Texas manners. “Hello,” he said. “Danielle, is it?”

“That is right,” said Danielle. She looked out the window then, into the depths of the night sky. “I just wanted to ask a question. Did you happen to see any other men while you were driving over the ridge?”

“No,” said Joel, thinking on it. “No, I don’t believe we did.”

“Okay,” she said, disappointed, looking down at her boot laces. “Thank you. I would have asked Noah, but he is busy.”

“You missing someone?” he said.

“My father and brother,” she said. “They went out hunting earlier today.”

“They know their way around the land?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then I’m sure they’re fine,” said Joel. “I’m sure they just took shelter from the storm. It was pretty strong.”

“Thank you,” said Danielle. “I’m sure you’re right.”

Joel glanced back to Noah. He had been talking to Cici and Ellie over at the kitchen table, about what they’d learned back in La Crosse. “Are you and Noah friends?”

“Yes,” she said. “I mean, sort of. We’re the same age. I have known him a long time.”

“Do you all know what’s happening, with the land around here? The rivers?”

“Yes,” said Danielle, wistful. “We do. I know that Cici and Noah are preparing to leave because of it, with you and Ellie.”

“What will you do, you and your family?”

“I think we will go north,” she said, her hands balled up in the front of her dress. “We have lost everyone, and now our farm, too. We cannot stay here, especially not alone.”

“I’m very sorry,” said Joel. “About your farm, your family, your community. All of it.”

“Thank you, but you don’t need to say anything,” she said. “The Lord gives, but he also takes away. We’ve heard of other communities up north of La Crosse who may welcome us, many include Amish.”

“We met a couple of guys from a place called Midway. You know it?” said Joel.

“Yes, we have heard of it.”

“They seem to have a good thing going on, north of the spores. I’m sure they could use people like you, farmers and such.”

“Becky and I have many skills that we think we could offer. And my father and Zach, that’s my brother, they are very skilled as well.”

“There you go,” said Joel, smiling. She seemed broken somehow, very sad. He felt a little embarrassed for noticing. He said, “Are you doing okay? You just worried about your dad?”

“Yes,” she said, trying to liven up a little. She put on a very good happy face. She said, “But I’m sure you’re right. I’m sure they’re fine.”

“Okay then.” He looked back out the window. In the reflection on the glass, he could see Danielle, looking back toward the kitchen table. Noah looked up, right at her, just for a second, and she immediately turned back toward the window and sighed. Joel wondered, briefly. Perhaps? He sipped some more of his cocoa.

“Noah is brave,” she said. “Him and Cici. They have helped us for so long. It is scary to imagine life without them.”

Joel felt that same seam tugging open again, from before. It caused him strife, but it was also easy to jury-rig it shut, for now. The cocoa was warming his soul. It was trying to make his problems seem silly. “I know what you mean,” he said.

“How long have you known Ellie?”

“Not long,” said Joel.

“Well, she speaks highly of you,” said Danielle. “It seems you have been through a lot together. Do you think that sort of thing can change someone?”

“Yes, I do,” said Joel.

That night, he and Ellie were getting ready for bed in the upstairs bedroom. Danielle and Becky were sleeping in Noah’s room, across from Cici’s at the end of the hall, and Noah was sleeping downstairs. As Ellie brushed her hair in her gray pajama pants and her new sweatshirt, Joel sat thinking and looking down at his knuckles. Noah was still awake downstairs. You could hear him playing some music on the record player, real low. It was Elton John, something very old that he only remembered because it was a golden classic that he might have heard on the oldies radio station when he was a kid, or that his grandma might have listened to back at the dairy farm in Odessa. It was a song called Goodbye, Yellow Brick Road. The song was nostalgic.

Goodbye, yellow brick road, where the dogs of society howl.

“Hey, Joel?” said Ellie.

She was turned around now, looking back at him, holding the brush in both hands. She looked like a little girl.

“Yes,” he said.

“I was just wondering. Cici said we’re gonna leave in a couple of days. That we’re going to a place called Moline, in Illinois?”

“That’s right,” said Joel. “It’s right on the I-80, which is how we get back on the road to Tommy’s.”

”Are they gonna stay in Illinois?”

”I don’t know, Ellie. That’ll be up to them.”

She set the brush down, and then she came and sat down next to him, right next to him, on the bed. He scootched a little to give her space. The bed creaked. She pushed her sleeve up. Together they looked at the bite scar on her arm. “Should we tell them?” she said.

Joel studied it closely, the pink ridges and bumps. It was almost like a flower. A mean flower. Tenderly, he pushed the sleeve back down. “No,” he said. “Not yet.”

She sighed and looked down at her feet, which barely touched the ground. “Okay.”

“How you doing?” he said.

This seemed to surprise her. She shrugged. “I’m okay. Why?”

“I was just wondering,” he said. He took a great, deep breath. "We could talk. If you want."

“Talk about what?”

“About Pittsburgh," he said. He wasn't looking at her. She was terrifying in moments like these. Joel did not fear Infected or bad guys with guns. But with Ellie, sometimes, he was speechless. He didn't know why.

“You mean about Henry and Sam?” said Ellie.

“Sure,” said Joel. “Henry and Sam.”

“I don’t know,” she said, turning slightly toward him. “Do you wanna talk?”

“I'll listen," he said. "It's just been a lot that's gone on. Spending time with Noah made me realize that."

Hanging her head then, she reached into her pocket. She switched her knife open, eyeing its shiny blade. She did this whenever she didn’t know what else to do with her hands. It was a nervous habit. “It just seems so pointless, don’t you think?”

“What seems pointless?”

“Their deaths,” she said. She closed the knife back up and put it away. “Their lives. I don’t know. It’s like, one minute they were there, and the next, they weren’t. Poof. They were dead, and we were gone. We’d made plans. Now, it’s like their lives didn’t mean anything at all. Like they never even existed.”

“They meant something to you,” said Joel. “To us. For a little while. That’s more than some can say, in the end.”

“I guess,” said Ellie. “I’m just scared. I don’t wanna lose anymore people, Joel.”

She looked up at him with big eyes, like puddles. “I know, Ellie.”

“What about you?” she said, turning the tables. “Are you okay? After La Crosse? What Noah told us, about the sacrifices, like, shit. That seems pretty gnarly.”

“It was gnarly,” said Joel. “It was. But for the most part, we came into the aftermath. There was less action than we had anticipated. I’m okay, Ellie. You don't need to worry about me.”

“Well, I worry,” she said. “So deal with it. And I just—all I mean is, if you ever wanna talk, I’ll be here. Okay?”

He was looking down at his hands again, where they were folded in his lap. He felt big and mean beside her. He wondered if he deserved her, or any of this at all. He said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. She smiled then, like she was satisfied with the conversation and therefore, unburdened. Then, she got up and went back to the mirror and continued to brush her hair. “I used Cici’s shampoo today,” she said. “Does my hair look shinier to you?”

Joel found this very amusing. He said, “Yeah. You know, I think it actually does.”

“You should try it," she said.

“Ha,” said Joel.

“You might just like it…”

“I’m turning out the light now.”

“I’m serious…”

“Goodnight, kiddo.”

She sighed, set down the brush on the bureau. She seemed herself again, so positive and bright. It was a relief.

“Goodnight, Joel," she said.

That night, Joel could not sleep. He felt like his brain was working overtime for some reason. After Ellie dropped off and her breathing gone even, he got up silently and put his boots back on and went outside to chop some firewood. He had noticed it dwindling in supply upon their return, and it would still be a few days before they left the farm. The nights were getting colder. He loaded his shotgun and went out past the creek to a healthy pine grove just inside the confines of the electric fence. He didn't hear a soul out there, Infected or otherwise, only the bubbling of the poison creek and the crickets and the whip-poor-wills. The rain had stopped but the sky was still dark with clouds, and you could not see the moon. He cleaned up a few logs on the edge of the tree line, bound them up and hauled them in on a pallet, which he pulled on a rope. Once back to the house, he split the logs and left the axe on the stump, stacked several bundles near the chimney and then carried another bundle back to the house.

As he was walking in the door, he ran into Cici. She had on a blue wool jacket and a pair of warm gloves. He surprised the hell out of her when he came in the door. It made him feel bad.

"Joel," she said. "Holy shit. You scared me."

"I'm sorry," he said, setting down the bundle and unbuttoning his coat. "I didn't know you were up."

"I couldn't sleep," she said. "I thought I'd chop some firewood."

"Beat you to it," said Joel, showing her the bundle under his arm.

She seemed a little dumbfounded, taking off her gloves. "You didn't have to do that."

"Well, I did it anyway," said Joel. He went into the living room, which was empty. Noah's sleeping bag was still rolled up next to the fireplace. Joel tossed in a log, then another, started stoking it with the cast iron poker. "I see that Noah is elsewhere."

Cici shrugged. She was over in the kitchen now, leaning against the counter. "He’s probably with Danielle, out in the crow's nest."

"Danielle?" said Joel. "The Amish girl?"

Cici smiled. "It's not as weird as it seems." She poured herself a glass of bourbon. "You want some?"

"Sure, I'll have a little," said Joel. He settled down into the couch with a great big sigh.

Cici joined him. They both held heavy-bottomed glasses, poured neat with about two fingers of whiskey. "Here's to you," she said.

"Me?" said Joel.

"Yeah," said Cici. "For helping Noah. I'm just like, extremely thankful."

Joel looked down into his whiskey, swirled it around a little. "He's a pretty brave kid," said Joel.

"Yeah, well. Maybe too brave," said Cici. "Still."

They touched glasses, drank. The whiskey was good. The fire was very warm, and very big.

"So how does that work?" said Joel. "With Noah, and Danielle? I wondered if maybe something was going on, but ain't that like, against the rules?"

"It definitely is," said Cici. "But they're teenagers, and in a few days, they will both have to leave this place, and they'll probably never see each other again."

"So what you're saying is, fuck the rules," said Joel.

"Pretty much," said Cici. "I'm mostly kidding though. They're just friends. But they grew up with each other. That changes people."

"Yeah, I get it."

"I worry about her, a little," said Cici. "She's a nice girl, and she's braver than you think. But so much in Danielle's life is riding on her finding a suitable husband."

"And that ain't Noah."

"He ain’t very suitable, no."

"If we’re looking at the grand scheme of things," said Joel, "it seems like repopulating the earth is a little more important than religious rules right now. But I ain't been close to God in a long time. That's just my sinner’s opinion." He drank.

"You sound like Ellie," said Cici, smiling into her whiskey. "She said almost the same exact thing."

Joel looked at his watch. "Ellie's a good kid," he said.

"Have you ever been married, Joel?" said Cici. She was looking at the fire as she said it, not at Joel. She drank her whiskey.

"Yep," he said.

A little time went by. As usual, she did not press him for details. She was a mysterious woman. She never dropped her hand.

He felt her looking at him then. As a mystery, she was full of plot twists. So he looked at her, too. Her hair was a kind of dirty blond, nothing special, and it was down now and tucked behind her ears. She had fine bones. Her eyes were brown: dark and deep, like bullets. They were so different than Ellie's, which seemed to float on the surface of her face. He expected her to say something, but she didn't. Instead, she just reached for his left hand and picked it up by the wrist. Her touch jolted him upright. He thought she was looking at his wedding ring finger, but she wasn’t.

"You need a new watch," she said.

You kept complaining about your broken watch.

He looked down as if seeing it for the first time. He scratched his head. She gave him back his wrist and he pulled his sleeve down to cover up the whole thing. "Should we put the music back on?" he said. It put a cap on the conversation.

She went along with his suggestion, finished her whiskey and got up from the couch. She crossed the room in her socks, dropped the needle on the record player, then she made a face at the Elton John. "This is Noah's," she said.

"Well, it ain't Madonna," said Joel, "but it'll do just fine."

"Excuse me?" she said.

They drank more whiskey and talked, sitting on opposite ends of the couch.

***

On the record player:

“Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” by Elton John

***END PART 1: THE FLOODPLAIN***

Coming soon - PART 2: THE 1-80

Thank you for reading!! <3 -gala

#the last of us #tlou #the last of us 2 #tlou2 #joel tlou #ellie tlou #joel miller #ellie williams #joel x oc #as you were

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langdxn · 5 years ago

Note

Hey hey! I really liked the Richard fic you recently posted, I haven't seen many people writing for him! Could you write some smut for Richard? Maybe something where the reader and him sneak around the clinic in the middle of the night bc they both can't sleep and end up having sex somewhere? 👀I'll leave it up to you, I just really love your writing!

Awh thank you very much anon, I’m so glad you liked it! Richard’s our soft boi and I love writing for him so much, I had to give him a new aspect here just for fun. Hope this is what you were looking for, anon! ❤️

You weren’t usually this nervous introducing yourself to clinic newcomers.

After gazing at him from your dark corner of the lounge for three weeks straight, convincing yourself there would never be a right time to greet Richard, you decided the perfect time to approach him would have to be at 4am on a Wednesday.

“Can’t sleep?”

Richard’s focus remained on the TV set, volume low to not wake the rest of the clinic.

“Me neither,” you sighed, slumping into the seat beside him. Uncomfortable, its padding had seen better days, but the clinic wasn’t there to make life easy for you.

“I’m Y/N. You’re Richard, right?”

A nod.

“Jonah’s been talking about you. Won’t shut up about you actually. It’s not all nice things but that just means he likes you, at least in Jonah’s language anyway.”

Richard’s gaze dropped to his lap, clearly unwilling to discuss his roommate. Your plethora of inane icebreakers was wearing thin already.

“I’m not taking their meds either. You think they’d have noticed when there’s a pair of insomniacs sat wide awake in the lounge that should’ve been out for the count four hours ago.”

He stifled a snicker under his breath, curling his long brunette hair behind his ear. Assuming this stony silence couldn’t last forever, you rose to your feet and stood in front of him, completely blocking his view of the flickering screen. Outstretching a hand before him, you smiled warmly.

“Walk with me?”

He took a second to deliberate, quirking an eyebrow and meeting your eyes with his, before taking your hand as you whisked him away.

Treading out into the humid summer night, you headed for the tire swings as Richard trailed obediently. You picked a swing in the middle, leaving Richard no choice but to sit beside you. He took a seat tentatively, gazing at you for the next instruction.

“So what do you think of this place so far?”

“Could be worse,” Richard huffed, you flinched slightly at the first words you’d heard escape his lips.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you laughed dismissively, scuffing your sneakers in the dust beneath your feet. “I could still be living with my parents.”

Concern suddenly washed over his face, brows furrowed as he looked at you softly.

“What did they do?”

“Ah, you know,” you started swinging nervously, gliding your feet back to throw yourself forwards. “Threw stuff whenever I said something out of turn. Threw me out the door when something didn’t go their way. Argued more than they talked. Packed suitcases, smashed plates, the usual.”

“That—that’s not the usual,” Richard muttered, crossing his feet as the momentum of your swing carried him away.

“Yeah, I know it isn’t. Just makes it easier if I pretend it’s what everybody else does.”

A tense pause between you allowed you to hear the crickets in the summer night, a cacophony of natural nocturnal creatures that also avoided taking their sleeping meds.

“My parents couldn’t understand what was wrong with me,” Richard sighed solemnly, you scuffed your feet on the ground to halt your swing. “They just left me here so they could get on with their lives.”

“That’s not the usual either,” you murmured.

“Yeah, I know.”

Richard slammed his feet into the dirt, sliding from his swing to lean against the tree, a slight pout scrunching his lips.

“Hey, don’t worry,” you shushed him as you untangled yourself from the tire swing and stopped in front of him, your sneakers bumping his. You raised a caring hand to brush his brooding brunette fringe from his eyes and gently cupped his cheek. “Fuck them. We’ve got each other now, right?”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” His deep blue eyes sparkled even in the dim light, a troubled gaze meeting yours.

“Because we’re in this together, Richard. We’re two fucked up kids stuck in this shithole until they decide we’re mentally fit to be released back into the real world.”

“Oh and it also helps I’ve had a crush on you since I first saw you.”

You winced at your blunt delivery, almost hoping he hadn’t heard you.

He definitely heard you.

Richard snaked both his hands around your waist and drew you into him, enveloping your lips with his. Your hands draped around his neck and pulled him closer, fireworks bursting in your mind as you melted into his touch.

Trailing his grasp down to your hips, Richard spun you both around until you were pressed up against the sharp bark of the tree, your hair swinging recklessly around you and wooden nodules resting in the small of your back as he allowed his hands to wander up your chest. Grabbing handfuls of your breasts, he kneaded lightly at the flimsy nightdress between you. Unadulterated moans slipped through your conjoined lips followed by a searing path of heat coursing down between your legs, willing your shaking knees to hold you up.

His soft fingertips journeyed down to clutch your thigh, wrapping it slickly around his hips allowing him access to your already dampened panties.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since I got here,” he hummed against your lips as you pulled him in deeper, nibbling the tip of his tongue to draw him into your mouth as a contented grunt escaped him.

He reluctantly broke away from your kiss to glance down and take in the view of you curled around him, clinging onto him, rivers of arousal spilling from your core down onto his jeans.

“You’re so beautiful,” he cooed. You shared a knowing glance, he traced a finger towards your panties, scooping them aside in one smooth flick, exposing your folds enough to slide two fingers inside you.

You threw your head back against the tree as he curled his fingers against your walls, tracing gentle flicks inside you as your hands hesitantly wandered to unbutton his jeans. Retrieving his cock from its denim incarceration, you gently pumped a few times before his hand slipped out of your cunt and helped you line up with his length. He edged his hips into you until his tip parted your entrance, his eyes firing into the back of his head on contact.

“Fu—fuck, you’re so tight,” Richard murmured as he slipped inside you, disguising his soft moans by planting hot kisses up your neck.

Your heavy breaths and lazy scratches under his shirt spoke the words you couldn’t find as he increased the tempo of his thrusts into your dripping walls, the sounds of your slapping skin echoing around the basketball court behind you.

“You’re so wet for me,” he moaned, setting a torturous pace peppered with gratuitous grunts falling from his tongue. Richard felt the unmistakable tugs of your walls as pressure began to build deep inside you and smiled.

“You’re close already?” He thrust his hips into you like punctuation, forcing helpless moans from your parted lips. “I need you to say it for me, babe.”

His relentless pounding into your walls had rendered you entirely speechless, so much that you couldn’t remember the last time you spoke to Richard while he was rutting into you. You cupped his face in your hands, planting rushed kisses across his cheeks and lips pleading to let you tip over the edge of your climax.

“Richard, I—I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum—“

“It’s okay Y/N, I’ve got you,” he husked, holding you flush to his chest and curling his hips deeper into you. “Let go for me.”

Your clouded eyes rolled up to the night sky as your orgasm took control of you, Richard’s spread hands digging into your hips as he gave in to his own release, pouring slowly against your walls with a loud, unrestrained moan.

As you caught your breath coming down from your high, you met his piercing blue eyes with a warm, caring gaze.

“I better tell Jonah the only way to get you talking is by screwing you against a tree at 4am,” you chuckled, earning you a cheeky glare from Richard as he slipped out of your dripping folds.

“I better tell Jonah the only way to shut you up is by pounding you against a tree at 4am.”

“Fuck you, Richard,” you slapped his chest playfully, carefully unhooking your legs from his waist to drop to the ground.

“You just did, babe.”

#the last time i saw richard #cody fern #richard x reader

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cyberdva · 5 years ago

Text

Lost Grieving- Richie Tozier X Reader {Chapter 2☆}

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Summary- The reader gets stuck in strange implications and finds herself in Derry, Maine, the location of the infamous Steven King book ‘IT’. Unknowingly she stumbles across the Neibolt House, the dirty and burnt remains of a tragic fire. She remembers what horrors had happened and is hesitant to stay. What will happen when she runs into the one and only Losers Club? What will they do if the strange new girl claiming to be from another universe, tells them they’re all made up characters from a book? Will she help them ‘defeat’ the morbid Pennywise or give up and be lost in perishable hell forever, filled with lost grieving. Proceed with caution when you drive into this tale of horror, humor, and a handful of twisted romance with Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier.

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Main Masterlist

IT Masterlist

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 (+)

Word Count: 2k

Date Uploaded: 11/05/19

A/N: Sorry for the long wait, I have so many ideas for headcannons and imagines that I’ve been just spitballing them out. I apologize for that, but anyways enjoy the new chapter! Send in any requests or ideas for the story, I’m in the mood for writing and I’m off for the rest of the week.

Warnings and Notes: Cursing and Excerpts from Stephen King’s IT Novel

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“Are you ok?” Eddie began to slow down, we ran as fast as we could. I felt bad for him, he has no idea what was going on. At least I had a basic understanding. He was really pale and it looked as if he could barely breathe. Oh, he has asthma! Wouldn’t he already have his inhaler out or something?

“Yeah, I’m fine. You’re really pale, are you going to faint?

“I think so, but I’m more concerned with the fact that you aren’t freaking out about that clown!” He spat out. I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Eddie spoke at the speed of light, no one ever understood him. I had a pit in my stomach, it pulsed whenever I thought of It. I want to go home.

I looked down, trying to piece together what to say, “Oh I’m terrified, I really think I’m dreaming.” The boy went shuffling through his red fanny pack.

“Why would you be dreaming? I’m not dreaming?

I sighed, “It’s a long story,” and I’ll have time to tell it to him when it comes.

“I think I’m going to throw up.” Eddie sputtered his body spurred to the side of the road, his hands covered his face. I awkwardly stood in front of him as my own nausea came up to battle. I collapsed next to him and we said nothing to each other.

“We need to find Bill.” he huffed. It looked as if his small body caved in on itself.

Bill Denbrough. He was their ‘leader’ or that’s how he was perceived in the books. I never really liked his character, but I felt horrible for what happened with Georgie. I felt bad for all of them. Their lives got swept away by that clown and the poster-child victim of this is sitting right next to me. I really hope this is a dream, what if I don’t go home? There’s no way I could be a foster child, that system is still fucked in the present. I can’t imagine what it could be like here.

“Where does he live?” I had no clue on what I was supposed to do, I’m not even relevant in this plot. What I do know is that I have to get a panicked Eddie over his friend’s house.

“Two streets down. Will you come with me, please? I don’t want to get killed by that clown. I lost my inhaler and my mom is going to freak.” his breathing became rigid. It was catching up with the pace of his talking, which was quite fast. His panting swallowed up all his words. In the story his medicine was fake. Now I was in a conundrum.

Do I tell him or not? It was such a turning point for him, even though he relapsed later on in his life, I think.

“Hey just breathe.” I almost patted his back, but my hand just wavered above him. Eddie tried to hack out a sarcastic reply. His fear got the best of him.

“Oh my gosh, please Eddie just breathe. I don’t care about your inhaler. We’ll get one at Bill’s or something.” He gasped for a gulp of air and shook. After a couple more times his lungs settled and sat in shock.

“How did that work? That never worked without my inhaler! Are you a witch or something?” Eddie wanted to do nothing but run as fast as he could away from that stranger that he found at a crack house. His mother always told him he was sick, he was. What just happened was physically impossible. ‘What if she was working for that clown?’, he thought. “She might not even be real for god’s sake!” Eddie couldn’t think straight.

I was beginning to think I was a witch, there is no physical way I could be here. I had next to none proof that I’m from the future, a different dimension at that. Except for my backpack. I always had sections for unused papers, a bigger chunk for History and English work. There were just a few things that fell through from my desk, but not much. Bingo. My old History article about Democratic and Republican debates. Photos, photos of the President. I did have proof! I just need the right time to bring it up.

“I dunno, my friend has asthma and that works for her.” Lies, I knew that would never work. Eddie would have to be a fool to ever believe that.

“Where are you from? I never heard of that treatment before, especially not from any doctor,”

“Nevermind that, we need to get going.” Nice playoff Y/N. We both headed down the small sidewalk in the brisk afternoon. As we passed the broken down Derry Trainyard the faint scream of a teenage boy filled the surrounding forest. My dress began to hike up my legs and clump by my backpack. Minutes went by when we walked down the unfamiliar streets.

Another deep screech was released, “What the hell was that?” I jumped after it was quiet, our eyes darted around. No one could be seen as the echo still remained. A groomed bush next to us started to shake unnaturally.

“What the fu-” Eddie stumbled back, like a baby learning their first steps. The greenery was torn to its sides by a lengthy boy. The pale thing launched at Eddie and almost stomped right on his arm.

“Hi-ya Eds! Didn’t know your mom let you hang out with girls, especially pretty ones.” He grabbed Eddie’s hand and pulled him to his feet. The boys stood head to torso. The height difference was kind of funny. Who even is that kid? I think he’s part of the club. Eddie seems to know him.

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Richard Tozier turns off the radio, which has been blaring out Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” on WZON (a station which declares itself to be “Bangor’s AM Stereo rocker! With a kind of hysterical frequency), pulls over to the side of the road, shuts down the engine of the Mustang the Avis people rented him at Bangor International, and gets out. He hears the pull and release of his own breath in his ears. He has seen a sign which has caused the flesh of his back to break out in the hard ridges of gooseflesh.

He walks to the front of the car and puts on hand on its hood. He hears the engine ticking softly to itself as it cools. He hears a jay scream briefly and then shut up. There are crickets. And as far as the soundtrack goes, that’s it.

He has seen the sign, he passes it, and suddenly he is in Derry again. After twenty-five years Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier has come home.

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“Bonjour Mademoiselle, I’m Richie!” he bowed.

Oh.”What the fuck is wrong with him?” I choked. Eddie stifled a laugh.

“Many things,” he replied. “Anyways, I haven’t seen you around here before. Are you new? Or like a homeschool?”

‘A homeschool’, isn’t he supposed to be smart or something? I’m starting to remember him. Richie was the jokester and my personal favorite character. This oughta be fun!

“I don’t know where I am.” After ages, I pushed down my dress in an attempt at a good impression.

“What do you mean?”

“I woke up underneath the welcome sign and found that broken-down house.”

The two stared at me, ”No, but seriously where are you from?”

“I’m telling the truth! Wait… I have proof!” I seized my bag and heaved it open. Small folders with homework were inside, along with other items that made it through with me.

I grabbed the green History folder filled with stray Newsela articles about Politicians and the President. I pulled one out about a Democratic and Republican debate. A bright picture of all the candidates with a date from September 2019 slapped right under the headline.

“Here this is from my school, in 2019.” It was the least believable thing I have ever said in my life. I internally cringed and just tossed the papers, along with the folder for good measure. If that doesn’t convince them I don’t know what will, even better, I got a watch. Not just any watch, one of the fancy ones with apps and music stuffed all into one. It’s perfectly packed right into my bag’s front pouch.

“What does the photo represent?” Eddie asked, he pointed to the red and blue stage and Richie glanced at the article about Donald Trump.

“It’s a debate abou-”

Richie jumped in, ”Why is orange?”

“I don’t know.”

“There has to be a reason for it.”

“Shut up Richie.”

“You shut up Eddie. Who cares, I want to figure out who she is.”

“Guys, come on.”

A car came jolting down the street. The driver… wasn’t there. All that was in the windshield was a blood-red balloon, not a person in sight. I screamed along with Eddie, Richie didn’t have any reaction. Richie snatched back my folder and scooted onto the pavement.

I couldn’t bring myself to move, I’m not part of this story, yet I can’t leave. Frail arms yanked me away just as the car whisked past. A crunch was all that was left of the vehicle, it disappeared in a flash. The remains of my crushed green backpack drew me to tears.

“Holy shit my watch is broken!” I sobbed. My last figment of proof.

Eddie flung his hands, “Is no one going to say ANYTHING about the car!?”

“We need to go find Bill.”

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#richie tozier imagines #richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier imagine #richie toizer x reader #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #it #fandom #fanfiction #the losers club #fanfic

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