#so be sure to unclench those cheeks and try not to be a loser about that

[flowerslut]

Waiting Game

  Words: 2657 Rated: T+ for canon-compliant mentions of suicide Summary: The story fell out in pieces, leaving Jasper and Emmett to sort through them to form the narrative on their own. Bella wasn’t dead; a fact Alice neglected to let anyone else in on. Alice was flying somewhere; it was unlikely that it would be back there, to Denali. Edward wasn’t coming home; it was assumed that Alice was heading wherever he was. Bella wasn’t dead, and Edward didn’t know it.

(New Moon gap-filler.)

A/N: Originally written for a Twilight charity fan-zine.

I humbly ask that if you read this story, please take a minute out of your day to go to MTHG.org and read about the Quileute tribe's Move to Higher Ground initiative. As a fandom it's important to acknowledge the true harm that has been inflicted upon this indigenous community and to educate ourselves accordingly. If you're able to, please consider donating to their cause. If you’re unable to make a monetary contribution, please share their cause in any way that you can; whether it's on social media, texting it to your friends, or bringing it up to family members. It's important to bring awareness to their situation now, before tragedy strikes and a natural disaster causes harm to this small, vulnerable community.

Today's story is part of a two-part fundraising initiative I've taken to Tumblr. Tomorrow I'll be posting an original song that will be available for download upon proof of donation to the Quileute tribe (any amount counts; even $1 is a great help.) 

I’d also like to take this moment to request and encourage any Twilight content creators out there to take a moment this week/month/year to post one work dedicated to raising awareness and funds for the Quileute tribe. It was a beautiful thing to see everyone banding together last summer with the release of Midnight Sun, donating en masse, raising awareness, and encouraging education. I’d like to keep that momentum going through 2021, as well. 💗

(Story under cut)

“I just feel bad, you know?” A foot against the base of a tree only had to press slightly before the thick wood groaned and cracked, threatening to fall to the forest floor below. The snow was deep enough that Jasper imagined it would cause a mighty flurry to erupt around them, but he wasn’t about to stop Emmett from doing whatever he needed to distract himself. Grief rolled of him like a steady stream, relentless in it’s flow. “Like if we’d stayed, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“But we didn’t stay, and it did happen,” Jasper spoke gently, pushing back the guilt he’d only recently allowed himself to move on from. Alice had reasoned that it was likely that any type of incident that threatened Bella’s life, whether vampire-related or not, may have driven Edward away from her eventually. But Jasper knew that Alice had held onto hope even all these months later.

It really was a shame that Bella had died.

“It’s ridiculous,” Emmett finally pushed harder against the tree, and when it cracked and snapped beneath the force, catapulting snow into the air around them as the hundred-foot giant fell, neither man flinched. “It didn’t have to be like this. It wasn’t just his choice. She could’ve been one of us by now. It’s what she wanted.”

Emmett’s grief was a passing storm, Jasper knew.  Emmett always handled change and tragedy and disappointment far better than any member of their odd little family. No matter how much the taller man cared for the now-dead human girl, Jasper knew that it wouldn’t take long for Emmett to move on.

As for their brother…

Jasper was dreading having to fill Carlisle and Esme in on the news. It didn’t feel right to deliver the news over the phone, so after a few vague voicemails and an even more ambiguous phone call, the pair were ending their hunting trip early and would be back at Tanya’s before midnight.

Not for the first time over the past couple of days, he wished Alice were still there. Empath that he was he had never been good at comfort, outside of using his ability to force it into the atmosphere. But still, Alice had tasked him with it regardless, informing him that Esme would take it hardest and it would be best to have them both back at the house before revealing the news.

And Edward, Alice said, absolutely could not know.

Rosalie had shocked Jasper by raging at that particular detail, her frustration trumping her initial shock and guilt so thoroughly Jasper had done a double-take, staring at the blonde curiously.

“He deserves to know,” Rosalie asserted, folding her arms over her chest as she eyed her shell-shocked husband, sitting at a nearby couch, his head in his hands. “It’s not fair for us to keep something like this from him.”

“I’m just relaying what Alice said,” Jasper deflected her irritation with half of a shrug, Tanya’s phone feeling particularly heavy in his hands. “It’s not like it would be easy information to get to him.”

Now, almost two days later, the knowledge that Bella Swan was dead sat in him like lead; heavy and unrelenting. Tanya and her sisters had expressed their sympathies, although Jasper could sense how bizarre they felt, watching Emmett frown and mope over some human girl. Carmen and Eleazar had volunteered to help them track down Edward, but Jasper quickly dismissed the offer, telling them what Alice had spoken.

Edward could not know. Not yet, at least.

“When Alice comes back, we’ll regroup,” Jasper spoke, watching as Emmett eyed an even-larger tree, likely considering knocking another one to the ground. “But when Carlisle and Esme come back, I’m going to need some back up.”

Emmett smiled thinly, nodding as he pulled his eyes off the tree and back toward Jasper. “Esme is going to be so wrecked.”

Jasper did not nod, but he did grimace at the idea of the matriarch of their family so distraught. It hadn’t mattered that the woman had only known Bella for a small amount of time. Esme had cherished and loved Bella the same as she did any of them.

It was as he was gathering the breath to speak, when Jasper stopped, his head turning back toward the direction of Tanya’s home in the distance.

Rosalie’s voice reached them only a millisecond before he’d felt it; sharp, piercing terror and guilt shooting through the somber atmosphere. Jasper was moving just as they heard the first shout.

“Emmett!” Rosalie screamed, “Emmett help!”

In all the races Jasper had entertained over the years, Emmett had never once beaten him, no matter how many times the taller man played dirty. But in all the years Jasper had been with the Cullens, through all her dramatic fits and tantrums, he had never once heard Rosalie sound so terrified.

So when Emmett beat him back to the property, snow flying around the men as they raced back toward the house, Jasper didn’t even find himself shocked. If someone could bend space and time through sheer strength alone, Jasper was sure Emmett would find a way. Anything to get to his wife.

They met a hysterical Rosalie half a mile from the house, and at first, little made sense.

“Rosie, Rosie,” Emmett held her tightly as words tumbled out of her too quickly and too disjointedly to make any sense.  “Slow down, what’s going on?”

“I told him,” she screeched eventually, her words catching as the guilt and fear wrestled within her, “I messed up and I told him because he deserved to know and I—” when her words caught on a fully-formed sob, Jasper forced himself to look away. And as his eyes found Tanya and her sisters, appearing at the edge of the forest, worry coloring their faces, Rosalie finally let the rest of her words tumble out. “I miss my brother.”

And in that moment, Jasper knew what had happened.

Rosalie had told Edward Bella was dead.

Alice had strictly emphasized how that couldn’t happen. But now the boy knew. And Jasper didn’t have to be a mind-reader to guess how the impulsive teen was going to react.

“Oh, no,” Emmett whispered, clinging to his distraught wife. Jasper made eye contact with him and immediately knew that their minds were on the same page.

Now, Edward wouldn’t be coming back.

————————————

The story fell out in pieces, leaving Jasper and Emmett to sort through them to form the narrative on their own.

Bella wasn’t dead; a fact Alice neglected to let anyone else in on.

Alice was flying somewhere; it was unlikely that it would be back there, to Denali.

Edward wasn’t coming home; it was assumed that Alice was heading wherever he was.

Bella wasn’t dead, and Edward didn’t know it.

Thankfully it didn’t take long for Rosalie to calm. But while Emmett comforted her and soothed her guilt—guilt that Jasper could feel eating away at her stubborn facade—Jasper quickly and quietly explained to Tanya the situation. 

“What can we do?” The strawberry blonde asked, sharing a horrified look with her sisters. 

“I don’t know. I need to talk to Alice.”

And by the time they all made it back into the house, Esme and Carlisle had made it back from their trip.

One look at Rosalie, completely beside herself and shaking like a leaf, had forced the pair into action.

“What’s going on?” Carlisle demanded as Esme flew to Rosalie’s side, enveloping the girl in a tight embrace, her eyes as wide as saucers. “What happened?”

There had been plenty of things that Jasper never wanted Carlisle Cullen to find out. When he and Alice had first joined back in the fifties, that list had felt a mile long. Each fact about his past felt like a confession. Each story a token to pay for judgement never received.

Jasper watched Carlisle take so much in stride through the years that eventually, even after slip-ups, Jasper found himself comfortable enough to talk about it with the older man. To look him in the eye when the conversations transpired. He respected Carlisle, even cared for the man.

But how on Earth was he supposed to tell him that the boy he thought of as a beloved son might never be returning?

The hour that followed had been excruciating. 

Emmett and Rosalie had disappeared soon after Carlisle and Esme’s arrival. It was only after Jasper asked when Irina hesitantly told him that they’d borrowed a car to drive to the closest airport in Fairbanks. From there, their plan was to call Alice and demand to know her location so they could help.

Not one to judge a plan made with good intentions Jasper had simply nodded and tried to tune out Esme’s grief.

He’d been right to suspect that the woman would take the news the hardest. If anyone Jasper had ever met deserved happiness, Esme did.

She’d already lost a son in a previous life. It felt cruel for history to repeat itself this way.

When the phone finally rang, Jasper answered it immediately.

“Hello?”

“I don’t have much time,” Alice spoke, her strained voice immediately soothing some of his anxieties just by the sound alone. “I have to make it quick so the flight attendant doesn’t interfere.”

“Where are you going?” He spoke, feeling the nerves in the house immediately begin to rise. He knew Carlisle and Esme were only in the next room, listening in as Eleazar and Carmen lingered close by.

“I’m going to stop Edward. There’s no getting a hold of him, so don’t even try. Our only chance at stopping him is by getting to him as soon as we can.”

“We?” That surprised him. It didn’t sound like an invitation. But quickly his surprise faded. Of course Bella would want part of whatever intervention Alice was staging. “And where, Alice?”

“Italy.”

“No,” he shouted the word before he could stop himself, and when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps he lowered his voice, curling himself around the phone as he walked in the opposite direction, “Alice, no.”

“If I don’t do this, Edward is as good as dead, Jasper.” Alice didn’t even sound surprised at his sudden outburst, of course. “Bella is alive, and once he sees that, I think we have a shot.”

“And if he doesn’t see that? What is he planning on doing? Join the Volturi?” It made little sense, but when it came to Edward’s fits, not much did. Of course, he was sure the alternative was more likely…

“He’s going to ask them to kill him.” She spoke, confirming his fears. “He knows they’re the only people who would willingly do it. And if they don’t want to do it willingly, he’ll force their hand.”

Jasper swore then, turning to see Carlisle standing in the doorway to the kitchen, a frown etched deep into his kind face. He knew the man could hear every word Alice was saying, even despite her lowered voice and hushed tone.

The two locked eyes for a moment before Jasper forced himself to look away and continue speaking.

“How?”

“I can’t be sure, I keep seeing him do different things, he keeps changing his mind.”

“What’s he picking between?”

“A killing spree through the city, attacking the guard, lifting a car over his head in the main square,” Jasper hissed at that, hating the fact that Edward was truly considering all of these things for Alice to get even a vague vision of them. Alice continued without a beat. “Mostly things that would expose them—he knows that’s he fastest way to force a reaction.”

“Alice, I don’t think you can stop him on your own.” Not that he doubted Alice’s abilities for a second, but if Edward was so ravaged by grief and hopelessness that he’d resort to murdering innocents, he couldn’t help but fear what his brother might do if Alice tried to stop him on her own. “I can be there, just give me some time to get to the airport.”

“No, you can’t.”

“You’re going to have company anyways once Emmett figures out where you are.”

“Tell Emmett no.”

“He and Rosalie are likely at Fairbanks International now.” He was surprised she wasn’t aware of that. He was sure they would have been calling Alice non-stop by now. Truly all of her attention was focused on Edward.

“Well, go after Emmett and Rosalie and bring them back.”

“Alice, I think we could be of some help there. Seriously.”

“Think about it, Jasper. If he sees any of us, what do you think he will do?”

Jasper sighed at that. But when he realized Alice was waiting on a verbal reply he closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair. “He’ll act faster. He’ll know we’re just trying to stop him. That we’ll tell him anything to get him to listen.” Even if it was the truth, that Bella was alive, Edward would absolutely never believe them, especially with Alice knowing his true intentions.

“Exactly. I think Bella is the only chance—if there is a chance…”

“Be honest, Alice. What is the chance? It sounds like he’s got a head start on you two.”

“I’ll do everything that can be done, but prepare Carlisle; the odds aren’t good.”

“And what happens then? If you fail. You’ll be in Volterra with nothing but a human at your side. Aro will,” he swallowed, trying hard to ignore Carlisle’s concerned gaze on his back, “he won’t want to let you go if he sees into Edward’s mind.”

Of course, Alice had the goddamn audacity to sound amused at the idea. “I’ve thought of that.”

He forced a few calm breaths, then. “Alice, you need to promise me you won’t put yourself in danger. I refuse to let this situation get worse than it already is. And it’s already bad enough. Promise me you’ll get out.”

“Yes, I promise.” But her words were too practiced. Too ready. No matter how much he trusted his wife, Jasper didn’t believe her for a second.

“I can be there soon, please. Alice, let me help. I’ll have Rosalie and Emmett come back to wait here with Carlisle and Esme. Do not do this alone.”

“Don’t follow me. I promise, Jasper. One way or another, I’ll get out.”

Jasper sighed. “If anything happens, all bets are off.” There was a moment of silence then, and when Alice didn’t contradict his words, he found himself feeling only the slightest bit better. If things went south, he’d be there, and nothing on god’s green earth would stop him. Alice had to know that.

Whether she’d seen it was something he didn’t want to know. (Because that would mean her failure was more likely than she was leading on.)

“Be safe, Alice,” he whispered, clinging to the phone with both hands now, knowing that soon she’d be gone, “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

He stood entirely still for several seconds before the beeping of the dead line brought him back to reality. Alice was on the way to a viper pit and here he was, standing in a too-big kitchen with marble countertops clutching a cordless phone like it was his lifeline. Told to sit and stay and wait, as if he’d ever been good at any of those three things in his goddamn life.

When Carlisle placed a hand on his shoulder, he nearly jumped, so taken off guard by the motion that the older man immediately apologized.

But when Jasper finally turned his eyes onto the man who had accepted he and Alice into his family over fifty years ago, it was easy to push the hesitance aside when Carlisle asked firmly, “What do we do now?”

And like always, Jasper had an answer for him. But not one he wanted to provide.

“We wait.”

[zayray030]

Don't Mess With Shiratorizawa's setter

Summary: Semi didn't appreciate having his boyfriend ogled by a bunch of boys. It was time to set things straight.

Relationships: Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou

If those absolute assholes did not shut the fuck up in the next five seconds someone was going to get whacked by his chemistry textbook and then stabbed with a whisk.

And that was the least descriptive killing method that the Shiratorizawa team had for killing the asshole, homophobes that sat on the table in front of them, shit-talking Shirabu, whilst said boy had gone to get a book

“Satori, I need your help to help restrain myself from injuring these boys. I would much rather not inform my father that I have regressed to methods such as punching to let out my anger,” said Ushijima, the usually stoic teen having a demeanour of complete rage surrounding him.

“You're funny, big guy if you actually think I'm going to stop you from killing those brats.” came Tendou’s tight response.

“Semi-San? Are you okay?” asked Goshiki. The poor boy was probably the only thing stopping the team from committing first-degree murder but they could tell it was all being reluctant.

“If one more thing about my boyfriend comes out of those prejudistic assholes and it has to do with the size of his ass, or his clothes, or anything to do with sex then I will personally admit to being guilty at the trial.” Semi threatened darkly and Goshiki resisted the urge to shudder. His Senpai was scary when it came to their setter.

“As his best friend I allow this,” muttered Kawanishi, equally as dark. He did not appreciate hearing that shit come from those boys. Shirabu might be a brat but he was his best friend dammit and nobody was allowed to say anything about him.

Okay, so like let's fast forward a couple of hours ago before the Shiratorizawa boys volleyball team had begun to discuss torture methods on how to kill the idiots talking about their bratty yet adorable setter.

~A few hours ago~

Semi was going to go into cardiac arrest. He was sure of it. That was the only excuse for why his heart had begun racing to the point he was sure he would have to go to his doctor as quickly as possible.

Or maybe it was because seeing his boyfriend (yes! Boyfriend! God, he was never going to get tired of saying it) of three months in an adorably oversized, pink pastel sweatshirt and shorts so short you couldn't see them below the sweatshirt. Along with this ridiculously adorable look, his salty boyfriend had a pair of golden round glasses on and his cheeks were flushed.

Semi Eita would gladly die right here and now and be quite happy with his life. After all, this image of his boyfriend was enough to check everything off his bucket list.

The rest of the team seemed to have the same thought, all of them just staring at his boyfriend as if he was an angel and if they weren't used to his normal saltiness they would have all assumed him to be an angel. Even Ushijima seemed to find his boyfriend angelic cause the normally stoic teen seemed to have his jaw unclenched. And in Ushijima language that practically meant his jaw was dropping.

All except Kawanishi seemed to have trouble thinking as they stared at Shirabu. Kawanishi, the little fucker, had had the nerve to just simply waltz up to the work of art and hug the smaller boy. The boy replied with the same energy as a tame cat turned savage and he aimed consistent kicks at his best friend's ankles.

“Put me down you savage.” the boy hissed and Kawanishi snorted before finally releasing the boy.

“I'm going to ignore the hypocrisy just this once.” said the taller boy.

When Shirabu merely touched he turned around and threw a smug look at Semi, the expression rare on his normally deadpan face. The look screamed, ‘Ha, I get privileges as his best friend that you don't get and you're his boyfriend, bitch.’

Okay, so Semi might be over-exaggerating but it was clear that the second year had it for him, especially after he had started dating Shirabu.

It wasn't that Kawanishi wasn't supportive of his best friend. In fact, he had been ecstatic when the two setters had announced their relationship cause it meant that Shirabu wouldn't be talking about the older boy constantly and asking whether he liked him or if he would be kicked out of the team for being gay and if the team would tell anyone and if it would be like with his dad.

He was glad that his best friend was no longer second-guessing himself but he had seen Kenjirou at his most vulnerable and he wasn't sure he wanted anyone else to see him like that. If Semi wanted to earn the right for him not to be a prettier brat than even Shirabu then he would have to earn the gingers trust.

(Who knew that that time would come in like, the next two hours.)

“Eita,” Kenjirou said, usually monotone voice happy as he walked over to his boyfriend. He'd gained more confidence over the course of their relationship and had started initiating things first now.

Semi had to suck in a deep breath when the small boyfriend wrapped his arms around him. ‘The sweater is as soft as it looks.’

“Baby,” he answered back, with his usual smirk and internally cheated when the boy blushed and puffed out his cheeks. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Tendou clutch his chest and he couldn't blame him, Shirabu was adorable.

“Loser,” he mumbled, face still burning and stud on his toes to peck his cheek. The boy quickly turned around, cheeks flushing and walked away, making a show of making everyone follow him. Semi followed, with a giddy grin on his face. He so wasn't going to get used to that.

Everyone, although still slightly shook at seeing their feral setter in such adorable attire, followed the shortest player.

“So, Kenjirou~” began Tendou, leaning into his Semi’s boyfriend. Out of a fit of jealousy and not really thinking about it, he pulled the younger onto his lap and shot Tendou a glare. His boyfriend however seemed more reactant to the surprising touch, if the immediate blush didn't say anything.

The redhead on the other hand simply smirked at the reaction before turning to the boy with uneven bangs.

“I didn't know you couldn't look so cute!” he teased. Wrong thing to say, which was made clear when Taichi immediately tensed and winced.

“Problem?” Shirabu answered testily and Tendou knew he accidentally stepped on a nerve far too raw to be touched.

“Well, I wasn't going to say it's bad. Just different. Which suits you.” he says, trying to salvage the situation and make the air less tense and awkward.

That wasn't enough for one Shirabu Kenjirou however, and he continued to scowl, turning back to his text.

“What Satori is trying to say,” and Ushijima, ever the peace-loving farm boy he was, decided to help Tendou with indirectly apologising to their underclassmen. “Is that you do indeed look different. But you also look cute and content. And I feel like that should be enough.” his normally blunt voice softened a degree as if to not scare the boy that idolised him so much.

Kenjirou just blushed and everyone present wished that they had the ability to sneakily take pictures on their phones.

Semi simply cuddled Shirabu’s back and continued to work on his assignment, adamant on both ignoring his boyfriends best friends glare and cuddling with his boyfriend. It was peaceful and quiet, and everyone in the Shiratorizawa volleyball team felt themselves relaxing a significant bit.

However, that all changed when Shirabu got up to grab a book from the shelves to help him on one of the essays that he was stuck on and too stubborn to ask help for.

“You know you can always ask, right?” asked Reon, apparently one of the fastest to recover but nor completely. He at least had the human decency to not stare at Shirabu as if he was an object.

“Hmph,” replied Shirabu, already moving away. Everyone around the table chuckled at the sheer stubbornness before returning back to their studies.

Or at least that's what they would have wanted. Instead, they began being subjected to a bunch of immature boys talking about Shirabu.

“That ass looks tight.” one of the guys jeered, annoying voice lowered down enough so the librarian couldn't hear.

“I know right? Always knew that little brat was a slut.” another continued.

“Think we could corner him later and see if he is as tight as he looks?”

“I doubt he is. But, why the fuck not. Would love to see him put in his place.”

A small snapping sound came from the table where the volleyball team were at and Eita realised it was because he had snapped the pencil in his hand. And it had been his favourite one as well.

And that's how we got put in this situation.

“Bet you his volleyball teams already had a go at that ass. There's no other way he could have possibly made it on to this team without having to bend over for them.”

Semi stood up after hearing that. No way were they going to insinuate that his boyfriend, the guy who worked his ass off day and night to stay on as first string and to also keep up his grades, was only on the team because they were fucking him. No fucking way.

Nobody tried to stop him as he walked over to those boys. Taichi even looked excited at the thought of Semi beating them up.

“Hello there.” he greeted, flashing them all a bright smile.

Immediately, they all stiffened. He could faintly hear an ‘oh shit’ but his grin just became sharper. They wouldn't be feeling regret in the first place if they had kept their damn mouths shut.

“So I couldn't help but hear you guys talk about my boyfriend, Shirabu Kenjirou?” he questioned sweetly, but everyone could see the venom on his eyes, daring them to say anymore. Seems like some of the students at Shiratorizawa had death wishes.

“Oh yeah? And what about it? You gonna invite us to fuck his tight ass?”

Everybody stared at the boy, all wondering how in the great Lord's name he had managed to get into Shiratorizawa.

“No. I'm giving you an opportunity to shut the fuck up before I beat you into the next century,” he replied sweetly and he could see a few boys scooting away from the one who had been oh so stupid to try and provoke Semi. At least some seemed to be getting their survival instincts back.

“Oh yeah? And what are you going to about it you fag-” the boy never got to finish his sentence and he doubted the boy would ever be able to speak again, out of fear or physical inability who knew, as a fist connected into his mouth. The boys around them didn't say a peep but their eyes widened and they all huddled together scared. Good.

“Here's out it's going to go, k buddy boy? You are going to never look, talk or think about my boyfriend or me again? If I ever hear you say any of those words I will find you and show you the true power of the Shiratorizawa volleyball team.” his voice had gotten deeper and he could hear one of the boys whimpering.

When the boy who's collar he was holding nodded in fear he let him go and he fell into a crumpled heap on the floor.

“That goes for the rest of you,” he added back to the boys behind him who were trying to escape. Immediately they all nodded, all in fear. Immediately he flashed them all a grin that caused the fear in their eyes to grow. “Perfect! Hope to never see you assholes ever again,” he said brightly before making his way back to his table.

When he finally got there he was swarmed with quiet congratulations however Taichi stayed silent. After everyone finished praising Semi he spoke.

“If you hurt my best friend I will make you wish for death. Currently, I am holding you in high respect. Fuck that up and you'll be lower than those assholes.” and that had to be the most passion the normally dead inside boy had used.

“Got it,” Semi said, giving him finger guns. The look of utter disgust on the redhead's face made him let out a small laugh.

“What's gotten you so happy in a library?” came a voice from behind him and when he turned around it was his own personal angel.

“Nothing, sunshine,” he said, pulling the younger in between his legs and wrapping his arms around him. “I'm tired. Can we go back,” he whispered into the ear, hands grasped tightly onto his hips.

He could hear Shirabu tsk but his boyfriend complied. “Fine. Let's go you lazy, cute, jerk.” he huffed, cheeks blazing.

Semi just chuckled, bending down slightly to give the boy a kiss on the cheek.

He quickly packed their stuff up and waved bye to their friends. After that Shirabu went up to the librarian and asked to check out the book he had gotten for their studies.

Once they were outside Shirabu turned to him, face a mixture of gratitude and annoyance.

“You know you didn't have to do that, right?” asked Shirabu, raising an eyebrow at his boyfriend.

“If somebody tries to talk shit about the people I care about they will get the shit beat out of them. A fair system if I do say so myself,” said Semi, not even bothering to beat around the bush.

Shirabu stared at him and it was clear the boy was about to have a go at him before he yawned. “We'll finish this off when I don't feel dead on my feet, clear?” threatened Shirabu.

“Pfft, sure darling. Meanwhile, I'm going to take you to your dorm. And don't bother trying to argue with me.” he added when he saw Shirabu opening his mouth in protest.

The copper blonde shot him a glare before walking ahead. Semi merely chuckled, before going after him, slinging an arm around his waist.

By the next day, it seemed everyone had found out about the library incident. Semi managed to get away scot-free since there wasn't any evidence against him and soon the whole school learned not to fuck with the people on the Shiratorizawa team.

Well unless you wanted to die young.

[xbunnybunz]

Daybreak (2/?) [Wolf Keum x Reader x Alex Go)

Summary: The day brings to you Alex Go, and in the night, Wolf Keum. Your past is inescapable. They build you up and tear you back down, but this is what you need to survive.

Genre: Romance, Angst, Drama

-----

When you wake up to the alarm in the morning, the ringing thrums a migraine in your head that could only be a hangover.

You blearily open your eyes and look to your alarm clock to the right, the intense sunlight piercing through your curtains further inflaming your headache.

7:10AM

You roll over and slap the snooze button, flopping back down onto your back with a sigh.

You lay in bed for a while, running through your classes for the day. You didn’t recall having any tests or quizzes, so you take the day to heal from your drinking binge instead.

The next time you open your eyes, it’s 1:43PM.

The sunlight has dwindled from sweeping over your face to sitting shyly in the corner of your room, refracting through the window and streaking a rainbow onto your wall.

Wolf and Alex Go flipped through your mind like a stop-motion movie, and only looking back on it did you realize what entirely different characters both were.

Wolf was cold. Everything about him was so goddamn cold, his stare, his presence, his mannerisms. But Alex Go was warm in a soft way, warm in the way the sun would feel washing across your face at the beach.

You wondered what business fate had in bringing both boys to you in one night but abandoned the sentiment as soon as it popped into your head.

You were tired of hearing about fate and of destiny, it reminded you too much of what he used to say. Life was fickle, and you knew it, lolling from one side to another, one moment in your favor, the other against.

Heaving a sigh, you push yourself to sit up and swing your legs over the bed.

Your shadow played across the floor and traversed to your desk, messy with the clutter of books, journals, and half-written novels.

You pay them no attention and stroll over to the closet, pulling a shirt from a hanger to wear to the local food mart. A grumble erupts from your stomach and find yourself salivating at the possibilities of different ramen flavors or day-old cold cuts.

You head out to the market after freshening up, and the trip there takes a little less than a few minutes.

The elderly lady at the register gives you a sweet smile and welcomes you, and you return the gesture with a bow. Your eyes skim the wall of chips and baked pastries until your gaze lands on the shelf you were looking for.

You peruse the selection of gourmet instant ramen, tapping your chin thoughtfully and pondering the root of all human struggle, beef flavor or chicken flavor?

The door chimes distantly and a few people walk in, exchanging greetings with the cashier.

You close your eyes and let the sound of others around you seep into your soul. It was days like this that everything felt normal again, like time had finally begin to move forwards again. You craved it, but always knew this relief never lasted for long.

You open your eyes and see the slight furrow of your brows in reflection of the vending machine beside you. You also notice a pair of legs trailing up to a familiar white and blue uniform, and whip around.

“Alex Go?”

“Hey!” He smiled, and even in the blue-hued light of the fluorescent bulbs, he shone like the midday sun. “I thought I recognized you, but I couldn’t be sure.”

You turn to face him and rub your arm, giving him a tiny grin. “I knew we’d be seeing each other around, but this soon? You sure you not stalking me?”

You reach out to give him a playful punch, and he barely budges.

“Stalking?” he seems genuinely taken aback until he sees the look on your face. “I mean, if I was stalking you, I’d hope you hit harder than that!”

He laughs and the sound is melodious, boisterous, but not grating. The way his shoulders shake mesmerizes you for one, two, three seconds.

“Hey, you’re lucky I didn’t use this hand instead!”

You wave your right fist at him and pretend to swing, and right on beat, he feigns impact with a dramatic pop of his shoulder.

There’s a light feeling in your chest, and it flutters with each beat.

When was the last time you spoke to anyone like this, the last time you spoke to anyone at all?

“What are you doing here?” He asks, green eyes alight and curious. “Other than looking at instant noodles, I mean.” He gestures to the shelf you were both in front of, and you shrug.

“I had a pretty shitty hangover, so I skipped class and stayed home instead.”

You feel a bit abashed admitting that aloud, but continue regardless.

“I also forgot I don’t have a lot of food back in the apartment, so I had to crawl out and get my rations for the week.”

His gaze is gentle but piercing.

You hadn’t noticed yesterday in the shroud of night, but his hair was exceptionally dark. You wouldn’t liken it to the pitch-black darkness of nighttime, but to the gentle shadows cast by foliage on a peaceful afternoon at the park.

His eyes were a lighter variant of green, like the pale olive of leaves right after the end of winter, just before the start of summer. It was a delicate kind of beauty that felt tender to behold, and you cherished it every moment you could.

“Cutting? Come on, there can only be one delinquent here.”

He bumped his shoulder into yours, but it was mostly your shoulder colliding with his bicep.

“And I’m no professional, but I don’t think cup noodles are the best thing to eat during a hangover.”

You let your fingers dance over the flimsy cardboard packaging, humming.

“Well, it’s the fastest and easiest. So unless you’re going to help me, I suggest shutting your trap.”

You poke him in the chest and your breath gets shallow when you feel lean muscle under the modest uniform.

Alex flusters as well, though much more outwardly. He clasps his hands over his chest where you jabbed him, and his voice comes out an octave higher than usual.

“What? What do you need help with?”

He looks to you for an answer and finds you brandishing two boxes, one chicken and the other beef, trying desperately to hide your awkward reaction with an equally as bizarre question.

“Noodles. Fresh, hot, preserved noodles. Chicken or beef?”

You don’t really care what flavor he chooses but you hope the diversion works.

Alex falters a bit at the sudden change in topic and mood, but much to your relief, eventually eases his sights on the boxes in your hands. He has to stop himself from rolling his eyes, but he can’t stop the cocky smile from overtaking his features. He places a hand on your shoulder and raises an eyebrow.

“Uhm, duh?” He gestures to the box on the right. “Chicken.”

You beam at him and put beef back on the rack, plucking a few more chicken ramens off the shelf.

“You, my good sir, are a man of good taste.”

Alex drops his hand from your shoulder and winks at you with a chuckle, his words igniting a fire in your cheeks.

“Oh trust me, I know.”

You can’t stop the smile that creeps across your reddened face. “Don’t be coy with me, Alex Go. I still remember the way you stuttered yesterday.”

“Coy? Who’s being coy?” He laughs and feigns ignorance, but his jittery feet, bobbing this way and that, give him away.

He eyes the fridge behind you and sighs, shoulders slumping almost comically.

“Shit, I almost forgot why I came here.”

He busies himself with grabbing handfuls of ice cream, and you peer at him curiously. He catches your stare and explains himself as he counts the number of cones he has.

“I’m on snack duty for the group today, those lazy bums were ‘too busy’ teaching Gray and Eugene how to play pools to come out with me.”

He steps away from the fridge and closes the door with his hip, the suction of air making a fleeting ‘thwump.’

“They’re just broke and won’t admit it, fucking losers.” He says this, but there’s a smile on his face. You smile with him, because now seems like a good excuse to be happy.

You both walk to the register and Alex goes first, but still waits until you have everything in a bag.

When you step outside, the sun is intense but warm. You have to squint to see anything, and when you look at Alex you see he’s doing the same thing. He catches your eye, and you both laugh at each other until your stomachs hurt.

“I guess this is where we part ways.” Alex says, still slightly out of breath, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Yeah, guess so.” You wring your hands a bit, feeling a bit jittery at the thought of returning to solitude.

Alex hesitates too but you barely have time to register it before he freaks out, seeing the time on a clock hanging from a nearby shop.

“Holy crap! I’ve been gone for that long? Ben’s gonna chew my ass out!”

Alex grabs your right hand to shake it and misses the way you flinch.

“It was so nice seeing you again! I just feel like we kind of click, yaknow? If that makes sense.”

He retracts his hand and ties a knot on his bag, he’s moving and talking so fast you can’t keep up. You’re still stuck on how he says you both click, because you think so too and you’re so glad he feels the same--  and you don’t want to go home and you don’t want to be alone.

But he’s taking off before you can even understand he was saying goodbye.

“I’ll see you later! Get home safe!”

He waves and takes off charging, and he reminds you of a soaring jet.

There’s a noise in your throat, but no words come out.

Your hands clench and unclench, heart still hammering from when he took your palm in his.

You don’t want to wait to see him again, you think. You don’t want to leave it up to chance, or fate, or whatever the fuck they called it.

How long have you waited for someone to hear you? To see you? To feel you?

“Wait!” You shout, and it pushes all the air from your lungs.

You give yourself half a second to inhale then take after him, the plastic bag with your noodles tugging on your wrist.

“Alex!”

By some miracle, he hears you and turns around, stopping short in his sprint and waving at you.

He cups his hands over his mouth and shouts something you can’t hear over the whistling of the wind and the rustling of the bag at your side.

When you finally catch up to him, you’re totally winded. You wonder what kind of superhuman stamina Alex had because he didn’t seem to be struggling at all.

You place your hands on your knees and double over, taking deep breaths of air that burn your lungs but make you feel so goddamn alive.

“Woah there!”

Alex braces you with two hands on your arms.

“I told you I’d wait for you. Why’d you keep running like that?”

“Give me your number.”

Alex’s eyebrows shoot up, and his hands fly off your body.

“H-huh?”

Your voice comes out raspy and weak. You’re only able to speak between inhales, but it doesn’t stop you from repeating yourself.

“Give me. Your number.”

Alex’s bewildered expression greets you when you look up, face red from exertion and embarrassment. Upon seeing your ruffled state, Alex makes a weird noise at the back of his throat and reddens as well.

“O-oh. I thought I misheard you…” He swallows thickly and rubs the back of his neck again. “Did you run all the way here to ask for that?”

You give him a look and drop your head again, giving one last exhale before rising again.

“Yeah, I did.”

Alex’s blush spreads to his ears, and his green gaze flickers from you to whatever thing wasn’t you. His dark hair tousles in the wind, and he rubs his nose.

“Oh wow. I mean you didn’t need to sprint, I’d be flattered regardless.”

He gives you another smile, and you notice that when he’s nervous his smiles are close-lipped. Either way, it warm your chest.

“I was just afraid I couldn’t catch up to you.”

He reaches for his phone and extends it to you after unlocking it, and you try hard to ignore the background he has of a tall, tan redhead face-first on the floor at a bowling alley.

“I would’ve waited.”

You type your number into his phonebook and call it, waiting until the buzz of your phone resounded from your pocket.

“I wanted to be sure.”

You hand the phone back to him. Your fingers brush and you don’t miss the way he jolts a bit.

“Right.”

He shifts a bit back and forth, like he couldn’t decide between staying or going. Or maybe you were just hoping that was the case.

You notice the bag he’s holding is dripping something, and you point it out to him.

“Oh crap-!” He opens the bag and is relieved to find its just condensation, but remains jumpy.

“Ah, thank god. But it’ll be the ice cream next. I really gotta go this time, I’ll see you!”

He takes off for a bit, and you watch, baffled, as he stops short and runs back to you, jogging in place. The condensation from the bag flies off and hits your arm.

“And uhm- I’ll call you.”

You blink in surprise, and can’t help the bubble of laughter that erupts from your lips.

“I’ll be looking forward to it, Alex Go.”

He returns the smile and it’s radiant as ever. It leaves you warm when he turns to leave, warm when his back is just a speck in the distance, and warm still when he’s out of your sight.

Alex Go, you think. Your fingers flex a bit at your side. And you smile.

[radiorenjun]

I Don’t Need It

• Pairing: Na Jaemin x Reader

• Genre: Angst, Comedy, Fluff

• Na Jaemin despised the idea of soulmates, he wanted to fight against fate for choosing his soulmate for him. Even if it means his stubborn childhood best friend wouldn't stop trying to make him accept about the similar tattoos on their wrists.

• Masterlist here!

• Chapter: iii, iv

"Hey Jaemin!" you exclaimed, bumping your shoulder against his teasingly as you manage to catch up to the poor boy. Jaemin sighed before turning to you with a soft smile, "hello y/n."

"So how are you today?" you asked, shoving your hands into your hoodie pockets as you walk side by side in the halls during recess. Jaemin felt his blood boil at the sight of you, after the day he had, he just didn't feel like dealing with your nagging.

"Y/n, I’m-" Jaemin sighed heavily before he felt an arm wrapped around the two of them, his good friend, Haechan stepping in between the two. "If it isn't my favourite couple!" the boy chirped, his bright smile lightening Jaemin's mood.

"Hi Haechan!" you giggled, ignoring his arm laying lazily around your shoulder. "How are you two doing in this terrible school day?" he grinned. "Just amazing." Jaemin rolled his eyes. "Looks like Nana here is having a bad day," Haechan used his hand that was swinging against Jaemin's shoulder to pinch the boy's cheeks.

Jaemin clenched his fists, "Hyuck, I-" Jaemin took a deep breath before being interrupted once again by the obnoxious school bell. Jaemin groaned internally, feeling Haechan's arm sliding off of his shoulder quickly before bolting away from them with a short "oh shit."

"Wow, not even a goodbye." you muttered with a chuckle before looking up at Jaemin who's expression looked grim, eyes cold and emotionless and his usual smile nonexistent on his beautiful face. "We should really hurry to class, Nana." You tugged on his sleeve as students ran by the two of you, only to have him jerk his arm away from you harshly.

Your eyes widen slightly at the action, his eyes not meeting yours. "You go on without me, I gotta meet Coach bout the next game." he mumbled. "Um, okay." you bit your lip nervously, "you want me to tell Mrs. Choi for you?"

"No, thanks." Jaemin replied dryly before walking away from you. You felt sadden as Jaemin walked away, starting to walk the other way to class. This was usually what you're looking forward to everyday. That one subject where you both had the same class at the end of each day.

It's not a big deal, he just gotta talk to Coach. He is the captain now that Mark graduated. He's got more things to do now, you shouldn't be so sad at his success.

You apologized to Mrs. Choi on being late to class which she just waved off before telling you to sit down. You sat down on the empty seat next to Huang Renjun, the Chinese student who moved in a few years ago, who was also one of your close friends.

"Hey Renjun," you waved as you drop your bag on the table. "Good to see you, loser. Why aren't you sitting next to Mr. Captain of the Football Team?" Renjun chuckled, not sparing you a glance as he fidgeted with his brand new watercolor set under his desk as to not get caught by your teacher.

Renjun was in the arts club with you, that's basically how you two met. The day you met was a truly iconic moment in your friendship, which ended with you accidentally shoving the end of an acrylic paint brush into his mouth.

"He got some things to discuss with Coach, so he couldn't make it to class." you pouted, crossing your arms on the desk as you began to write down whatever your teacher was explaining on the whiteboard. Renjun looked around class, now noticing that Jaemin was nowhere in sight of the room.

"I'm so glad to be your second option, y/n." he said spitefully, earning a poke on the temple by the end of your pencil. "Hey," he gave you a death glare. "Shut up, Huang. If he didn't reject me so much maybe I wouldn't be this desperate." you muttered, writing down sloppy notes at the speed of light.

"Oh please, even if Jaemin accepted your love, you wouldn't even spare a glance at anyone but him in this whole room til Mrs. Choi actually makes you sit next to me." Renjun rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh, putting his watercolour set in his bag before turning his head to copy the ones he hasn't written.

You sighed, playfully poking his sides in retaliation, causing the taller boy to flinch at the contact. "Speaking of that, it's been-what? Three years? And you're still going strong?" Renjun asked in disbelief. "Three- It's only been two years Renjun." you chuckled.

"Whatever," he rolled his eyes, "but like, how are you still going strong with the countless amount of times where he would reject you all the time?" he asked again. You felt a slight pain in your chest at his words, your mind flashing back to Jaemin's cold demeanor a while ago.

"Jaemin's just really stubborn. Why are you even questioning this now?" you tried to play it off with a smile, forcing out a small laugh as you gripped your pencil tightly, trying to make your mind focus on what's being written on the board than focusing on your stubborn soulmate who kept rejecting you.

"Yeah I know, but it's been two years, Y/n. Two damn years. I admire your determination and all but are you ever gonna just give up?" he questioned. You felt your heart sank at the thought, you wouldn't know what to do without your soulmate.

Everyone told you that being with your soulmate always made you feel whole, with butterflies fluttering around your stomach and your heart would feel like it was raised up to the clouds in heaven like a bird sparing through the sky.

The euphoria when your skins touch, the same exact feeling when you and Jaemin were casually hanging out. Deep down, the dark part of you knew that he was gonna get sick of you sooner or later. Yet you still had some hope left lingering, hoping that things would turn out otherwise.

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, trying to calm your thoughts as you slowly unclenched your death grip on your pencil. "Shut up Renjun," you flashed the boy a forced smile, nudging him with a teasing look before going back on your notes.

But to be honest, you don't know if you could continue paying attention without your mind wandering around.

"You okay?" you asked when you got in the passenger seat of Jaemin's car, shutting the door to be meet with a very dark and grim Na Jaemin with his eyes not gazing away from his phone. You knew something was up.

You and Jaemin lived literally next door to each other. Ever since Jaemin got a brand new car for his birthday, he couldn’t help but offer you a ride. “Fine.” he spoke in a monotone voice. He started the engine with a twist of his key, not sparing you a glance as he started driving. 

“You sure?” you asked after a pregnant pause, “you don’t sound or look fine.Did something happen at practice?” you added. You could see Jaemin’s fingers tightening their grip on the steering wheel. “I’m fine.” he muttered once again, but nonetheless your stubborn self didn’t want to leave him alone. His happiness was your happiness, after all.

“You know we could just talk it o-” you said before flinching at Jaemin’s bold yet sharp tone. “I said, I’m fine, y/n.” he huffed with a roll of his eyes. “I’m just having those days, just drop it.” he added without meeting your eyes. You stared at him for a brief moment, raising your brow at his tone.

You clicked your tongue before taking off your seatbelt causing Jaemin to turn his head to you for a small moment before looking back at the road. “What are you-” he spoke before he watch you move to the back seat and press both of your hands on his shoulder above the seats, pressing your fingers down on his clothed skin. Jaemin let out a soft groan at the contact, feeling his body relax.

“You’re clearly not fine. So let’s just talk it out and relax.” you smiled, trying to keep your balance on the moving car. “Y/N, sit down. What if you-” Jaemin interrupted himself with a relaxed groan as you dug your fingers on a sore spot. “Shut up and tell me bout your day, you dumbass.” you chuckled. Jaemin sighed in defeat, focusing on the road and the calming sensation of your palms digging into his shoulders.

“It’s nothing, really. Coach just gave me a big talk bout the responsibilities of being team leader, and the risks I have to take since it’s our senior year. And we’re gonna have tryouts for new members next week and I’ll have to be there, too. Everything’s just piling up into one, not to mention the exams, assignments and practice every two days.” Jaemin sighed.

You hummed, nodding as Jaemin continued to vent out his emotions to you as if you weren’t the same girl who was constantly bugging him everyday with your undying love confessions. It felt as if you two were sixteen again, before the whole soulmate problem came up. “I get it, with Seulgi graduating, someone has to be the president of the art club. Everyone wants me to be the leader but I don’t think I’m ready.” you nodded in understanding.

Jaemin smiled as you spoke,”but like, sometimes you gotta take up responsibilities when they’re given to you, you know? We just gotta do our best and start taking slow steps at a time.” you continued, trying to focus on massaging Jaemin’s shoulders. “Thanks, y/n.” Jaemin chuckled softly, his heart warming up, knowing you got his back no matter what. “I’m glad you always got my back.”

“Of course I do,” you smiled. “I am your soulmate after all,” you bit your lip nervously, you almost hesitated saying those words. You prepared yourself for the dark glare that was now peering at you through the rear view mirror, “Y/N...” Jaemin spoke in an exasperated sigh. “I know, I know. ‘Y/N, you know this more than anyone in the whole world, I don’t want to have a chosen soulmate, or any at all. I want to fight against what fate has in store for me.’ I heard you say this a gazillion times, Nana.” you giggled, mocking his deep voice dramatically.

Jaemin let out a small giggle, shaking his head profusely as he felt your fingers disappear as you crawled to the front passenger seat beside Jaemin once again. He watched you hop on to the passenger’s seat, clipping your seat belt on. He bit his lip as he recalled his tone early, feeling guilty slightly at his previous actions.

Soon he let out a small smile, doing a u-turn to head to your favorite diner. “Whatever,loser. You want to get some smoothies?” he offered with his charming bright smile, pupils shining bright once again that you could feel yourself fall deeper for this boy. “Do you even have to ask, Mr. Captain Of The Football Team?” you giggled.

Jaemin laughed, shaking his head at you. “One hour,Y/n. One whole hour. That’s how long I left you at Mrs.Choi’s class to sit beside Renjun and now you’re becoming him.” Jaemin jokes, poking your sides teasingly. “Imagine what would’ve happen if I left you with him for a whole day, alone.” he hummed curiously.

“Shut up, Nana. You know very much I rather be left alone with you,” you winked, causing Jaemin to roll his eyes at you. “Do I really need to reject you again? I’m sure you have my whole speech perfectly memorized in that brain of yours.” he chuckled. You felt your heart sank once again at his words,but nonetheless you maintained a bright smile on your face. “Who knows? Maybe you finally fell for me,” you grinned.

“Stop dreaming, Y/N. That’s definitely not gonna happen.” 

[thestarwrites]

All Right, All Might: Ch 12

Word Count: 6,200

Rating: PG

Painting: Toshinori Yagi X FemOC

THIS IS A LONG ONE, FOLKS! at 6,200 words! Because Patho is not participating in the Sports Festival and it is mostly passive watching, I am going to try to get through the whole shabang in two chapters!

———————————— CHAPTER TWELVE: THE UA SPORTS FESTIVAL!

Part One...

“Where’s your girlfriend, All Might?” Nemuri purred softly as she leaned over to the lithe form of Toshinori where they all sat in the teachers box, waiting for the first year competition to start.

“Nemuri,” he blushed, “Aren’t you the Chief Umpire? Shouldn’t you be down there.”

Giggling she ran her whip over his shoulders, “I will be in a moment, now, where is that little darling you are seeing?”

Nezu looked over with a smile, “Yes, where is Miss Chairo?”

Toshinori blushed harder and cleared his throat, “I mean- I’m not her keeper,” he frowned and then spoke again, “Where do you think she is? She’s making the rounds with the kids, trying to help them to be steady and to calm their nerves… as if I could stop her from doing anything she was going to do.”

Aizawa grunted, “Stupid.”

“Why are you always so cruel to her, Aizawa?” All Might grunted, “She’s a great asset.”

“You’re just soft for her because you love her assets.”

All Might grunted, “Hey! That’s not true or fair,” he scowled, “She’s a great teacher and hero.”

“Listen. It’s like I told her a few weeks ago. She’s a second-rate support hero, and she’s coddling these children who won’t get that type of treatment in the field.”

His eyes widened, “You said that to her?”

“She didn’t run and be a little tattle tale?” He scoffed, “I really expected her to run and cry and tell you that I was mean to her.”


“No!” He glowered, “Aizawa, that’s a terrible thing to say to a coworker.”

“Truth hurts sometimes,” He shrugged, “I’m heading to the booth to sit with Mic. Have fun,” With that Aizawa turned and left, still mostly covered in bandages.

All Might sighed and rubbed his temples.

-----

“All the other courses, they’re coming for us with everything they’ve got,” Izuku grunted, “We’re all gonna have to fight to stand out. And I’ll be aiming for the top too.”

Shoto grunted, “Fine.”

“Tch.” Bakugo looked over his shoulder, staring daggers at Deku.

The door slid open once more, they were wondering who could be coming to see them at such a late hour before the start, when no one responded, she could feel more than the average worry or fear in the room, “Wow, the air is really tense in here!”

“Miss Chairo!” Kirishima grinned and stood up, glad someone was there to break up whatever was happening right now.

Izuku turned to look at her, “Miss Chairo, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with the other teachers?”

The woman chuckled softly, sending out pulses of calm energy into the room, “I’m sorry to save your group for almost last! But I had a lot of classes to visit this morning. I just came from 1-B those kids are… something.”

Some of the kids laughed, feeling a little better, “You visited EVERYONE?” Kaminari blinked.

“Of course, I did the same thing last year, I got a little caught up though, a boy named Tamaki almost threw up and passed out before he went out,” she gave a small smile, “Not that I think he’s doing any better this year but… we had some meetings last week to talk about it — ANYWAY, how are my favorites in class 1-A doing?”

“I’m a little nervous, Miss Chairo,” Mina squeaked.

“Well, first thing I want to tell you all is that you CAN call me Keri, you know. I’m not much older than you guys and I understand what its like going through all this.”

“Tch,” Rang out into the room, “No you don’t, loser. You didn’t go to UA.”

“BAKUGO! Not cool man! Thats so unmanly of you!” Kirishima chastised the blond, “I am SO sorry Miss Keri, he didn’t mean it!”

Keri laughed softly, “It’s okay, Eijiro. I meant I have experience talking to the teens last year, but thank you, Katsuki, no I did not. But I know that when I was in school, I watched the UA festival. So make sure you all do your best, and don’t be surprised when kids from other schools start to notice you.”

“Kids from other schools, oh god!” Miineta gasped, “I hope you mean girls!”

She chuckled, “Okay guys. I have to run and talk to 3-A quick, but you will all do great. No matter what place you come in, I am sure with how amazing you are, and the way you handled the USJ incident, that you will all get scouted for great internships. Just remember to breathe, and to be kind to yourself between games, hm? I’ll be watching!”

“Thanks Miss Keri!” Ururaka smiled.

She waved and left the room just as Kirishima was saying how manly she was to encourage them so well, before defending that being manly isn't reserved to being a man. Keri laughed and hurried down the halls to get to where the Big 3 of UA were awaiting their entrances.

Coming into the room she smiled, “Ah! I made it just in time!”

Mirio turned around and beamed, “Miss Keri! Hi! It’s really nice to see you before the big event!” He was the only one allowed to wear a stripped down version of his hero costume, since - he would be naked on live TV if he didn’t.

Nejire turned and gasped, “Hey!” The girl ran over to their guidance counselor and hugged her close, “I’m so happy you came to see us! Did you come to wish us luck!”

Keri hugged the girl back and smiled, “Yes of course I did, I’ve been running around like a lunatic trying to see how each class is doing, I just came from 1-A. Its tense in there.”

“Why wouldn’t it be tense…” rang out the shaky voice of Tamaki from the corner, “Everyones gonna be judging them so hard… after what happened at the USJ… Man I hope there aren’t villains watching…”

Mirio smirked, “Lighten up Tama!”

Keri smiled and went over to Tamaki, placing a hand on his back, her form glowing pink.

Nejire leaned over to the tall blonde and whispered, “I don’t think it’ll ever stop being neat that she glows pink.”

“Yeah!” Mirio whispered, “Like Tinkerbell!”

“Why do… do you waste your time on me, Miss Keri…. I… I never learn anything or… or get better…” he sighed softly, still anxious even though he visibly started to unclench all of his muscles.

She smiled warmly and turned his head to her, “You’re not a waste of time Tamaki, you’re just like a stubborn little cat, but you’ll get the hang of it eventually. I believe in you. I always have. And you have an incredible gift, Suneater.”

“I… Thank you…. Miss Keri… You’re too nice,” He sighed, “Definitely too nice to be talking to me…”

Chuckling she gently rubbed his back, “You’re going to do amazing today, Tama, don’t worry so much,” she pulled out something from her hoodie pocket, “Here, take this, its some electric eel - maybe you can get some of that electricity,” she smiled, “Smile, Tama,” she lifted his chin, “Don’t think about it. Get out of your head.”

“I- I’ll try…. Miss Keri… But…. But I’m probably just going to… to disappoint you,” he whimpered.

Smiling softly she rubbed his back a few more times, “You could not and would not ever disappoint me, Sunspot,” she smiled, “I’ll catch up with you after, okay?” He nodded, cheeks beet red, and she smiled, turning to the other two, “Okay guys! Show em’ what you’re made of!”

Once Patho left the room, with the festival about to start, Mirio smiled, “Man, she is just the nicest isn’t she?”

“Yeah!” Nejire smiled, “And she’s dating ALL MIGHT!” She swooned, “What a hunk…”

“H-hey! I thought I was a hunk!” Mirio whined.

Tamaki walked shakily over to his two friends and took a deep breath, “You know what… what I found out… about her….?”

The two looked over and blinked. It was a long moment before Nejire sighed, “Spit it out, Tama!”

He flinched and looked down, “You know how I…. I’m interning with…. With Fatgum?”

“Yeah…” Mirio looked at him.

Tamaki swallowed, “Keri and him… used to date when she was in college.”

“OH MY GOSH WHAT!” Nejire exclaimed.

Flinching from the outburst he nodded and wet his lips, “Yeah… he was telling me about her the other day. I mentioned…. Her or… something. I guess…. He dumped her…. He said he was a jerk about it…. He still… you know… feels bad… apparently….”

Mirio laughed a little, “Woah, I can’t believe it. They don’t seem like a good match at all, really… Also, Fatgum being a jerk? That’s weird.”

“HEEEEYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!! MAKE SOME NOISE YOU RABID SPORTS FANS…. GET THOSE CAMERAS PREPPED MEDIA HORDES… THIS YEAR WE’RE BRINGING YOU THE HOTTEST PERFORMANCES IN SPORTS FESTIVAL HISTORY GUARANTEED!”

“Oh heck! It’s about to start!” Mirio smiled, “You better eat whatever Miss Keri gave you, Tamaki!”

“O-oh yeah…” the boy started to eat, hands shaking.

“I’VE ONLY GOT ONE QUESTION BEFORE WE START THIS SHOW! ARE YOU READY!? LET ME HEAR YOU SCREAM AS OUR STUDENTS MAKE THEIR WAY TO THE BIG STAGE!!!”

Keri ran into the teachers box, out of breath as she smiled, “I made it just in time! I didn’t miss anything!”

Nezu looked over with a laugh, “I’m surprised you didn’t, Patho, you talked to what? All of our students today? Also… you aren’t in your hero uniform or dress clothes…”

She blushed, “Sorry sir…”

“No matter,” he sighed, “You never are in office wear so why would I start nagging now. Please, take your seat, its starting…”

“THIS FIRST GROUP ARE NO STRANGERS TO THE SPOTLIGHT, YOU KNOW THEM FROM WITHSTANDING A VILLAIN ATTACK! THE DAZZLING STUDENTS LIGHT UP YOUR TV WITH SOLID GOLD SKILLS. THE HERO COURSE CLASS 1-A!”

Moving to sit down, she mumbled, “At least I wear UA merch….” She took the empty seat next to All Might with a small smile, “Hi baby,” she moved to put her hand on his and gently ran her thumb over his large hand, “Hey… earth to Toshinori…?”

Looking over he took a breath, “Hey Sunflower - sorry, I’m just… nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous, honey, I just saw Izuku, he’s determined and he’s gonna be fine. He’ll make you proud.”

He nodded and moved to hold her hand gently, leaning into her, “You’re a wonder.”

“THEY HAVENTT BEEN GETTING NEARLY ENOUGH SCREEN TIME, BUT THEY ARE STILL CHOCKED FULL OF TALENT! WELCOME HERO COURSE 1-B!”

“Oh hush, you need to unclench yourself before you have a heart-attack Toshi, honey.”

He chuckled and nodded again, “You’re right. It’s out of my hands for now anyway.”

“NEXT UP, GENERAL STUDIES CLASSES C, D, AND E! SUPPORT CLASSES F, G, AND H! AND FINALLY BUSINESS COURSES I, J, AND K!”

“I just came from the Big Three,” she smiled.

“Oh yeah? I don’t know much about them except for Mirio Togeta. Remember I told you they wanted him to be my successor?”

She nodded, “Of course I remember,” Her fingers were deftly running over the skin of his wrist, “Mirio and Nejire are doing just fine, but Tamaki Amajiki is a wreck,” She sighed, “He and I have had counseling for the last two weeks about dealing with today. He is absolutely terrified. Last year he didn’t even compete he was so afraid.”

“He has an internship with Fatgum, doesn’t he?”

She nodded and took a deep breath, “Yeah, I’m going to have to speak with Taishiro about his insecurities and everything soon… I don’t really… want to.”

“Taishiro? You’re on first name terms with Fatgum? Why don’t you want to see him?”

“Shh! It’s starting,” she giggled a little and moved closer to him. Toshinori allowed himself to relax a little and throw his arm around her shoulders.

“SILENCE EVERYONE!” The sultry voice of Midnight cut through the speakers, “AND FOR THE STUDENT PLEDGE WE HAVE - KATSUKI BAKUGO!”

“ — Oh god,” Keri clenched her boyfriend’s hand, “Please… Please Katsuki say something not offensive. We talked about this,” she whispered.

“Maybe he’ll say something… uh - no he’s probably going to say something offensive,” All Might whispered to her, “Hun, you’re crushing my hand.”

“Sorry,” she tried to relax.

He leaned into the microphone and spoke in his even-keel voice, “I just wanna say, I’m gonna win.”

“Oh my god,” Keri slapped her forehead as the entire crowd booed, including the students. She watched as Bakugo descended the stairs cool as a cucumber.

“WITHOUT FURTHER ADO - ITS TIME FOR US TO GET STARTED…”

The obstacle course was fraught with dangers most of the first-year students have never faced before, but for class 1-A, they had already learned to fight. Even those students in 1-A without flashy quirks were in the leading pack. 1-B wasn’t far behind, but it was clear who was the probable Big 3 of the first years would turn out to be; Todoroki, Bakugo, Midoriya.

Keri looked around while Toshinori stood, clutching the edge of the box the teachers sat in with white knuckles. She could feel him practically vibrating with excitement and pride. A small smile graced her lips as she finally spotted who she was looking for - Enji Todoroki.

“HE WON!” Toshinori jumped up, as everyone stood to clap at the first place winner of the Obstacle Race. Keri stood to clap as well until the blonde picked her up and started spinning her around.

She laughed and yelped, “Toshi! Put me down!”

He did as instructed and the grin on his face was one unlike she had seen on him before. He felt complete watching his protege win and do as he asked - declare to the world that he was here now.

As the fanfare died down, the students filed in, and soon there were only stragglers remaining. The first 42 students to finish would be the ones advancing. Mostly all from 1-A and B, though there were some support course and general studies students as well.

Toshinori watched, giving a silent congratulations to young Izuku, and Keri walked up behind him, running a hand over his lower back, “Toshi, I’m going to take a look around.”

He turned from his daze and blinked, “Keri - you’re gonna miss the next event.”

“I wont miss it,” she laughed, “I’ll still be in the stadium. I want to check out what pros showed up. I feel like snooping,” wrinkling her nose she smiled, “Is that okay, Toshi?”

The older man chuckled, “Of course its okay, besides, you don’t need my permission.”

She smiled and took his hand, “Give me a kiss?”

He blushed and leaned down to her, kissing her lips softly, chaste enough for the setting, “Happy?”

“Always when I’m with you,” leaning up she pressed another kiss to his lips, “Don’t get into trouble while I’m gone now!”

Blinking he called out, “You’re the one who needs to stay out of trouble, Ree!” He took a deep breath and went back to his seat as Midnight began explaining how the Calvary Battle would work. He groaned to himself to know Midoriya had such a high point value on his head, but this is what he expected - he after all had been through three Sports Festivals in his day too.

Keri walked around, saying hello to some of the pros and parents she already knew. She didn’t stop long because she knew who she was looking for; Enji Todoroki.

The cavalry battle was well underway, and Keri had found Shoto’s father and standing a ways away from him, she took some time to watch some of the game now that she was on the lower levels. It was certainly harrowing. She’d always watched the festival growing up, and every year into her adulthood. She had only missed it a handful of times due to clinic hours and exam schedules. She couldn’t imagine having to compete like this.

As a support course student at Ketsubutsu Academy, she remembered her own first meeting with the kids from UA, going to take the provisional license exam in first year. She first met Aizawa there. He was taking the test again as a second year - him and Hizashi both. She also had met Fatgum for the first time there, he had flirted with her and it was the spark going forward when they met again later. She was too bashful and unsure of herself at the time to do anything but smile politely and hide in the crowd. It was so strange to see these kids who she had seen on television.

She never actually had passed the provisional license exams. Which was just as well, she was never really trying to. Already on the path to researching how to get into a hero college for Psychology / Support Training. Keri never intended to do any hero work until she had met with principal Nezu to discuss her joining the staff.

Keri remembered that day fondly;

“Well, I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve asked to meet with you a third time, Miss Chairo,” the calm voice of the principal sounded out.

The young woman nodded, “Of course, sir, I am both excited and afraid to be here.”

The man laughed, “Afraid?”

“Of rejection, I suppose.”

Chuckling, he took a sip of his tea, “Well good thing for you a rejection isn’t something you will be facing today. I would like to offer you the position officially as our first ever guidance councilor.”

“For real!? Oh my god are you serious, Principal Nezu, sir?!”

“Oh yes, quite,” he laughed, “Some of the other teachers are wary about hiring a woman who not only did not attend UA, but is also Twenty- Seven and has no Hero License.”

Her cheeks reddened, “Well, I was always too focused on my goal of becoming a licensed therapist. Besides, you’ve seen my quirk and it’s not fit for hero work, I can tell you that.”

He smiled, “And why not?”

“I’m not the strongest, I know how to fight well enough to defend myself - but I’m not fast either, all I can do is manipulate emotions, sir. I would be a liability on the field.” She looked down.

He let that hang in the air a moment before beginning, “You know what a liability is in the field for heroes? People who are panicking, people who are out of control or want to run into a burning building to save others, instead of letting the heroes and fire department handle it. People who need to have a sense of urgency to leave a building - or to evacuate an area calmly.”

“I… I don’t understand, sir.”

“What I’m saying is, no your quirk is not flashy, and you’re no fighter - but, your quirk is powerful enough for you to be a first rate support hero. Think of the possibilities for crowd control, victim aftercare, hero aftercare…”

“You… really think so, sir?”

Nezu nodded and smiled, “So, this is the condition for your employment. You work here for me and the school, and I will help you to get your Hero License before the start of your first term.”

“Of - of course, sir!”

“Well excellent. Welcome to the UA family, Keri.” He stood and crossed to shake her hand.

Keri shook it and beamed, “Its such an honor sir, thank you! Thank you so much! I will work the hardest I can to realize your goal of having a functioning and productive guidance office for the heroes of tomorrow! In fact - I’ll go beyond! Plus Ultra!” She smiled.

She was interrupted from her reminiscing when she saw something she wholly did not expect; Shoto Todoroki got cornered, and in his haste - used his Fire quirk. She blinked and shot an eye over to where she remembered Enji standing to see the hulking red-head smirk, arms crossed. The action turned her stomach.

Walking slowly over she hummed, “Hello again, Enji.”

He tensed, she could feel the anger wafting off of him, “You really have never had any respect, have you, little girl.”

“And obviously neither have you, Enji,” she punctuated her sentence with his name once more, “And the name is Keri, if you have actually forgotten it. I find people should be on first name terms with each other, it makes for a healthier working environment.”

“We don’t work together,” He responded flatly, never taking his eyes off the field.

Chuckling she leaned on the wall beside where he watched, “No but we do work concurrently.” He made a soft sound, “Your son is doing very well today,” she smiled, “He is a great kid.”

“He could have done much better in the obstacle course if he applied himself.”

She didn't look at him, “If he used his fire, you mean?”

Turning to look at the insignificant support hero beside him, he grunted, by her tone he could tell that she suspected something was going on with Shoto, something going on at their familial home that was untoward, “I don’t like your tone.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t. Not as the number two hero who prides on having a son who has both his parent’s quirks. Though I have noticed that he doesn’t use the fire quirk, why is that?”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she smiled and finally turned her face to his, “Anyway, It was nice seeing you off the battlefield, Enji.” And with that she turned and walked away from him. An impish grin came over her face as she felt the older man seething behind her. She absolutely couldn’t stand Enji, and how defensive he became - she knew something was up.

---

Walking through the halls, the second event of the festival was over with the top four teams advancing - she smiled, knowing Izuku was in there with a lot of his classmates. She was greatly impressed by the fact that Ururaka was in there as well.

“There you are,” the voice of All Might rang out, “I was looking for you everywhere hon— Patho!” He beamed.

“Hey All Might,” she smiled warmly, “Enjoying the games so far?”

He chuckled, “Yes of course I am - why do you look like the cat that ate the canary?”

“Mmm… I may have just come from pestering Enji Todoroki.”

Toshinori raised his eyebrows and smirked, “My girl likes to live on the edge huh? Look at you, playing with something as dangerous as a live bear.”

Keri huffed a bit, “I just can’t stand that man, someone should put him in his place. He called me little girl.”

The mirth faded from his face and he put a hand on his hip, “Is that so? You think someone should put him in his place? Maybe that someone should be me,” the smirk he gave then was one unique to when All Might was pissed off. He was full of spite and contempt as he went to walk off.

Grabbing his hand she blushed, “Ah - Toshi, wait!”

Turning he looked down at her, “If your boyfriend can’t defend your honor, maybe the number one hero can,” he winked and pulled gently away from her, heading in the direction of Enji.

Keri blushed and tagged along after him, in case she needed to break it up - Enji was a dangerous man.

“Yo,” he started. Keri rolled her eyes, the straight up alpha male energy was off the hook, “Long time no see, let's catch up - Endeavor.”

The hulking redhead didn’t turn at first, “All Might,” he growled before turning and staring daggers into the blonde’s eyes. He didn’t even bother to notice the little rabbit at his heels.

“I haven’t talked to you since that press conference ten years ago! Been awhile - I saw you and figured I’d stop and say hi!” The smile never faltered from his face.

“Did you now?” He scoffed, “Well if that’s all you wanted then we’re done. Tch, chatting like we’re old friends - what a joke.”

Keri winced at the awkwardness of the brief interaction. It was very clear to her that he absolutely hated Toshinori with everything in him. She gasped as Toshinori started to laugh. It was so condescending. He suddenly launched himself into the air doing flips and spins down the stairwell.

He landed in front of Enji with another laugh, “Come on! Why the cold shoulder!?” He smirked, “You should be thrilled! Your son is doing very well out there only using half his power. You must be a great teacher!”

The men were locked in a tense stare as Toshinori’s girlfriend stared on. What was he getting at? Endeavor grunted, “Are you implying something?”

“NO! I want to know your secrets! How do we train the next generation of heroes?”

Enji scoffed, “Do you really think Id tell you anything Ive trained the boy? You’re all flash and no brains, as usual - out of my way,” he pushed past him, shoulder checking the man.

“Okay!” He sighed.

“Let me assure you of one thing, All Might. That kid of mine WILL beat you some day, I’ll make sure of it. That’s why I MADE him.”

Toshinori looked uncomfortable, “You did, what?”

The large fire hero grinned widely, wildly, “He’s in a rebellious phase right now, but he will take your place. I’ll make SURE of it,” Turning he moved to continue to walk down the stairs, “And tell your little groupie to stop meddling, got it? She’s not worth the dust on my boots.” All Might clenched his fists as he watched Endeavor disappear from sight.

Keri heard the confession of the man up on the balcony, covering her mouth as she held back a gasp. Thats why Todoroki wouldn’t use his quirk. She could feel herself tremble as absolute devastation filled her - she could only imagine what Shoto’s life was filled with as she fell to her knees.

“Sweetheart!” He moved to run back up the stairs when he saw her fall, “Keri - what’s wrong?”

She was glowing at this point, tears in her eyes as she covered her face, “God- Toshi - What has he done? He’s … he’s a monster… how can he even call himself a hero? Let alone the number two?” She shook her head, “Oh god - his poor children,” she put her head down and wept.

He felt his own tears prick his eyes from the effect of her quirk, “Shh… shh honey, calm down, it's okay Keri… it’s okay,” after he set her back on her feet he cupped her cheek, “Come on - lets go to your office and I’ll go grab some ramen and come back, we have an hour for lunch, hm?”

Looking up she wiped her eyes, trying to contain her quirk as people were starting to stare, “Tosh- Pull away from me, people are looking.”

“I’m doing no such thing. You’re upset,” he sighed, putting a hand on her shoulder, “Come along, let's get to the school and then I’ll get us some takeout. We can also talk about everything if you want.”

Nodding she allowed herself to lean into his side as he led her from the stadium with his hand on her lower back. She felt exhausted suddenly, “God I hate it when I go into overdrive like that…” She whined gently.

“I know exactly what you mean,” the pro smiled down at her.

As they walked, a few reporters ran forward, “All Might! Hey! How are you liking the festival so far!”

He looked up and smiled a little, not stopping, “THE KIDS ARE DOING INCREDIBLE THINGS OUT THERE TODAY! THEY’LL ALL MAKE GREAT HEROES!”

“And who is this you’re escorting? Do you finally have a girlfriend, All Might?” A female reporter crooned.

All Might looked like he was thinking of something to say, “Oh no,” Keri smiled tiredly, “I’m the UA guidance counselor - I used my quirk a lot today, kind of overdid it actually. All Might was just kind enough to help me to my office - he’s overly worried about his coworker passing out or something.”

He smiled, “Yes- and all of you should definitely know who she is! She’s Patho! The Support hero!”

“Oh yeah,” one of the other men commented, “That’s right, Principal Nezu did say he was trying a new program last year — Miss Patho, may my station come and do an interview with you some time? I’m sure everyone would love to hear from one of the first Student Hero Therapists.”

Blushing she smiled, “Of course - call the school and press five for my office, we will set something up,” she bowed slightly, “Excuse me please, I really need to go sit and eat something so I can make sure I’m of use the rest of today - and in case any students need me.”

The reporters all respectfully withdrew as the two of them continued. All Might smirked and leaned down a little, “Kitten, you’re a natural.”

Laughing softly she looked up, “I’m a guidance counselor, I act like this to everyone.”

“Not to me,” he winked.

She laughed, “Well because when I met you, I was shell shocked, and then we became friends so fast… but sometimes we get clinical together, you know. I’ve used my psychology powers on you.” She wiggled her fingers.

He laughed and continued on inside and up to the guidance office with her.

---

Closing the door and pulling down the privacy shade he knelt down, still in hero form, “Come here, Sunflower.”

Moving to turn and throw her arms around his large shoulders she sighed, “Oh Toshi… I feel so… devastated for Enji’s family… Shoto is so unwilling to talk. But I think he needs therapy probably more than any of his classmates.”

Holding her close he kissed the side of her head, “I know… I have never been very friendly with Enji - well, I have, but he won’t have it. And I know he mistreats everyone around him - even you, baby,” he gently rubbed her back, “Okay, I’ll go get us ramen - you want your usual?”

Pulling back to look at him, she stroked his face, “That sounds perfect,” leaning in she kissed him adoringly.

Humming into the kiss he slid his hands to her waist, “We should have a date night tonight.”

“Sounds good, hun,” she kissed his forehead, “Be safe getting our food,” he moved to jump out the window, “AND NO HERO WORK! WE ONLY HAVE AN HOUR FOR LUNCH!”

“Yes dear,” he winked, and with that he was off.

----

After lunch, Keri and Toshinori ran hand in hand back toward the stadium, “We’re late! We can’t miss this! Midoriya is first up!”

“Calm down Toshi - you have one lung for god’s sake!” She sighed as she was pulled along.

When they arrived, there was no time to go up to the teacher’s box, Toshinori pulled her right into an entry hallway and they stood at the mouth of it to watch the match between Hitoshi and Izuku.

“Oh no,” Keri raised her brows.

Toshi turned, “Oh no what!”

“Hitoshi - he’s from general studies. If he asks Izuku a question - and he answers - he’ll be bound to do what Hitoshi tells him. This match will be over before it even begins.”

“WHAT?!” Toshinori looked back out to the match with horror, “Come on, kid…”

“Poor thing… this is so painful,” Keri sighed, hand on All Might’s back.

Suddenly as a burst of wind came from Izuku both adults were absolutely gobsmacked, “WHATS THIS!? HE STOPPED JUST IN TIME!” The voice of Prezent Mic rang out. And in a matter of what seemed like seconds, the purple haired boy was body slammed out of the ring. Midoriya victorious.

All Might looked to his girlfriend, “What the hell was that?”

“Your protege won, what do you mean?” She smiled, “You can ask him later, don’t worry about it now, he’s advancing. I’ll have to make sure the kids in the finals all get appointments when school reconvenes, poor Hitoshi - he’s had such a hard time. He really should be in the hero course, he just doesn’t have the combat training… I know what that’s like.”

Toshinori looked down to her and sighed, “You know… I always forget that you weren’t in a hero course… to me you are a hero, but… you should know what kids like Izuku and Shinsou go through better than anyone.”

Nodding she patted his back, “Do you want to go to the nurse with him? Get some talking in?”

He nodded, “Come with me?”

“No no, you go on, I’m going to go find Hitoshi,” she smiled and padded off in the direction he had gone, while Toshinori followed Midoriya toward Recovery Girl’s temporary office.

“Hitoshi, wait up!” She called out.

He turned and let out a sigh, “Miss Chairo… I didn’t expect to see you so soon… Though, I should have known you’d talk to the losers.”

“Hey. Stop right there,” she sighed and put her hands on her hips, “I wanted to come and talk to you because you did an incredible job today. You know that I think you belong in the hero course, but it isn’t up to me, unfortunately. But even if you don’t, there are still ways to become a hero you know.”

“You think I did incredible?”

Smiling she nodded, putting her hand on his back and filling him with man echo of pride, “Yes. You should be extremely proud of yourself, Hitoshi. I know I’m proud of you - and your classmates are too. I’m sure the hero course students also think you are a wonder. And even though young Izuku won today, I’m sure he thinks of you with the utmost respect.”

He took a deep breath and nodded, “I’ll be a hero.”

“Yes you will, of that I have no doubt.”

The boy finally cracked a small smile, “I’m gonna go sit with my classmates upstairs, is that okay?”

“Of course it is, you’ll come see me when school starts up again?”

He nodded, “Yes Miss, I will… thank you for caring.”

“Thank you for giving it your all, Hitoshi,” she smiled and waved at the boy as he hurried off to sit with the General Studies students upstairs. Nodding she felt a little better about what happened, satisfied he would be alright, as she headed back to the stadium to watch the next fight.

Taking her glasses off and running her hands over her face, she sighed, “God, today is such a long day… I’m glad they only have these once a year…” Looking up she sighed, “Oh god, this is gonna be another short one… AH!”

She had to dive out of the way as ice shards came flying into the hallway she occupied. One of them cut through her pant leg, slicing her thigh, the other cutting her cheek, “Fuck!” She gasped as she covered her head from the rest of the blast.

When the dust finally settled she looked up, the entrance to the hall was blocked with ice, she couldn’t see anything, but she already knew who won. Sighing, she pushed herself to her feet and moved to head to Recovery girl for some bandages, “He must have spoken to his father,” she hummed tot herself, pressing a cloth to her cheek to stop the bleeding.

Knocking on her door, she called out, “Chiyo, it's me!”

“Come in dear!” She called out.

Opening and shutting the door she was met with a familiar husky voice, “KERI!? What happened to you!? Are you alright!?”

Looking up she smiled, “Just hit by some stray ice shards…”

“That’s what that was? Ice?” Recovery Girl blinked, “The whole building shook!”

She nodded, “I just need some bandages.”

“Here - let me,” Toshinori went and grabbed some supplies, “Sit on the bed, Sunflower.”

Doing as she was instructed, Recovery Girl couldn’t help but smile, “You know, you two are the cutest couple I have seen in a long time. I was hoping you two would realize you had feelings for one another, I just didn’t think it would take so long.”

Blushing hard, Toshinori gently stuck a bandage to Keri’s cheek, kissing it tenderly, before looking back at her, “Well… you know… with everything going on its hard to have time for a love life…”

Keri smiled and ran a hand over his cheek, “You take such good care of me, my hero.”

Chiyo chuckled, “Honestly, so sweet, don’t let that girl go, do you understand me, Toshinori? You two were definitely made for each other.”

Toshinori blushed harder and nodded, cleaning and bandaging her thigh, kissing that as well, “All better.”

Leaning in she kissed his forehead, “Have you been getting enough rest? Should we head back up to the teachers box? You’ve been in Hero Form a lot of today already.”

“She’s right you know, go watch the rest of the matches. Some of the others have been quick as well, but the second rounds will start soon.”

He nodded, “Come on, Ree, let’s head back to our seats.”

[fluffykitty1999-blog]

Burned Chapter 18

"Dinner!" Ed happily dished up two plates on home made mac n' cheese that'd been left in the fridge for them, adding a glass of chocolate milk to Elicia's side of the table before he was chowing down on his own dinner.

Alphonse, as always, didn't eat, but enjoyed watching the two. It'd been fun, watching Elicia. As the night went on she got more tired and silly, and easier to play with. At the moment, her face was covered in mac and cheese.

"After dinner, can we play a board game, big brother?"

"Sure, but you'll need to brush your teeth and get ready for bed first." Ed eyed the clock. It was a little after 8, bedtime was at 9. He was sure it was normally earlier, but he'd spoil the kid, just this once.

"Yay!" Elicia reached for her glass of chocolate milk, only to spill it all over herself and the table.

She sat there, lip trembling and eyes watering, as Al drove for a towel.

"Don't cry! It's okay. Ed will get you another glass."

Ed got up and headed to the fridge, looking annoyed. "Darn. That was the last of it."

A few tears slipped down Elicia's cheeks.

"But don't worry! Al can go get us some more!" Ed fished around in his pants pocket, pulling out a few bills.

"There's a little shop that's open late a few blocks form here. Al can go get the chocolate milk and you finish your dinner and get your PJs on, and he'll be back with some before bed. Is that okay?"

Elicia nodded, and Ed relaxed, crisis averted, before handing the money over to Alphonse.

"Thanks, Al."

"No problem. Make sure you get her cleaned up before Mrs. Hughes comes home." Al said, nodding to Elicia, who was still covered in mac and cheese, as he headed for the door.

"Alright. Now that that disaster is averted, let's finish up dinner so we can get changed into our PJs!"

Elicia finished dinner without complaint, and Ed was able to coax her into her Pjs- a tiny t-shirt and pants covered in teddy bears that was adorable.

He had to chase her around upstairs and catch her to wipe all the mac and cheese off her face, though. Still, it was hard to be mad when she kept laughing like she did. It was cute.

"Now that that's done, how 'bout you brush your teeth?"

"But I can't! Big brother is coming back with chocolate milk soon!" Elicia protested. "I wanna play a board game!"

Ed frowned. He thought he'd heard something, but now all he heard was silence. He turned his attention back to Elicia.

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Okay- go to the playroom and pick what you want to play."

Elicia went running off, coming back a moment later with a box that said "Chutes and Ladders" and setting it down beside her bed, looking excited.

Outside the bedroom window, there was the sound of glass shattering in the street below.

Elicia heard it too and looked up, surprised. "What was that?"

"Probably just a stray cat. We'd better hope Alphonse doesn't find it, or he might give it all your chocolate milk." Ed ran through everything in his head- he knew Al had locked the door behind him, and he didn't hear anything downstairs.

With that in mind, he settled down cross-legged on the floor of Elicia's bedroom and cracked his knuckles, grinning. "Now- prepare to be a sore loser! I'm the king of chutes and ladders!"

"Nu-uh!"

In the street below, a sleek black car parked further up the road. A black hooded man got out, lugging with him two large jugs of gasoline and a clanking backpack.

He'd intended to win the election and make Trevors the fall guy. He'd paid off false witnesses and everything. What better way to make sure he was never caught than to frame the wrong man- a political rival, at that- and then slash the funding to the police budget?

But things hadn't worked out as planned. And so Xavier was following his heart. It's what he'd done when he'd grown bored of politics and started butchering those women weeks ago.

He'd grown tired of the rich life. There was nothing more fun than killing- his wife had long since grown boring. Even she couldn't match the erotic pleasure he got from watching the light leave a woman's eyes.

Still, he'd lost the election, and if the calls he kept getting from Lieutenant Hughes were any indication, the walls were closing in. There was nothing better to do than go out with a bang.

He tried the front door of the Hughes' residence to find it locked. Oh well. He went about emptying half his first tank of gasoline on the front porch and struck a match, watching it all light up with glee.

This time, he wouldn't get the pleasure of watching his victims struggle and die. But maybe he'd be lucky enough to smell their flesh cooking- his mouth watered at the thought, and he grew excited, dashing around the back of the home and coating the small back deck in gasoline, lighting that up as well.

He dumped the remainder of the gasoline on the siding of either side of the home, striking matches and setting it aflame with glee.

He was going to jail for life anyways. Might as well take as many lives as he could before he got there. That detective might've caught him- but he certainly wouldn't have a home or family to come home to after this. The thought of the man's ruined life and his panicking wife and child burning filled him with exuberance.

He walked around to the front of the house to admire his handiwork.

The front porch and front of the house were beginning to be devoured in flames. The back porch was well underway as well, and both sides were beginning to catch, the siding smelling like melting plastic as the studs beneath caught and went up in flames...

It was a macabre lullaby- he could feel the heat from the flames, even ten feet back, and he smiled, listening to the cracking and popping of the flames. The second floor hadn't even started to go yet. It was brilliant.

"I get to go up the ladder!" Elicia cheered, looking excited.

"Yeah, well, I'll get you soon." Ed said morosely, rolling the dice hopefully. He tugged on the collar of his shirt- it sure had gotten warm in the house. Then again, maybe he was just frustrated. After all, he was getting beaten at chutes and ladders by a five year old.

He wondered when Al would be back with that chocolate milk.

It wasn't burning fast enough. At this rate, he'd have to wait around all night. Xavier stood on the front lawn, dropping his backpack and hearing glass rattle around. He'd prepared his maltov cocktails just for this. Glass bottles filled with kerosene, with rags stuffed in the top.

He lit the first rag, stepping back and hurling the bottle at an upstairs window- it shattered, and the formerly dark inside of the room lit up in a gorgeous red as the kerosene of the broken bottle spattered on the floor, and the bed linens and curtains caught fire.

The sound of glass shattering pulled both Ed and Elicia from their game.

"What was that?" Elicia asked, looking surprised.

"I don't know. It sounded like it came from the bedroom down the hall- Elicia, stay here." Ed said seriously, hurrying down the hall. His every sense was alert. Had the serial killer climbed on top of the roof overhanging the porch and tried to break in a window? If so, they were going to be met by a world of pain...

He yanked open the bedroom door, ready to go toe to toe with a killer, only to be met with a wall of flame.

He froze.

Skin. Burning skin. Flesh on fire, melting to the fabric of his clothes...

He was hallucinating. He had to be. He could feel his heart start to hammer in his chest, his mouth going dry. His breath hitched- he forced himself to take a deep breath, only to be met with heat and smoke in return.

No. This was real.

Pain. Pain engulfing his entire being- it wouldn't stop!

"Big brother!? What's going on?" Elicia called from down the hall, still blissfully ignorant.

It was her voice that pulled Ed back from the brink of his panic attack. She needed him- he forced himself to suck in deep breaths, to still the rattling of his mind. This was real, they were in danger, and he needed to get them out.

It was that purpose that caused him to slam the door on the burning room, hopefully slowing down the flames, and sprint back to the bedroom where he'd been playing chutes and ladders.

"Elicia! We need to get out..."

He skidded into the room only to see a black object flying at the window- right towards Elicia.

He was running on instinct now, and he dove forwards, tackling her and rolling- he heard glass shatter, and came to a tumbling rest in front of Elicia's closet. Following the first shatter, there was a second- Ed looked up to see a puddle of liquid catching fire in the center of the room, right on top of their game of chutes and ladders, and his eyes widened.

A maltov cocktail... someone is trying to kill us!

"What's going on? Big brother- Hhh." he heard Elicia's breath catch in her throat, and without thinking, he hefted her up and sprinted out of the room as the puddle of liquid- kerosene, from the smell of it- caught fire. He slammed the bedroom door behind him, stumbling into the hallway with Elicia in his arms, shaking and frightened, clinging to him.

Shit- what am I supposed to do!?

Roy was silent as he gunned the engine of his car down the streets of Central. Hughes was twitching enough to drive anyone mad in the passenger seat, clenching and unclenching his fists repeatedly and grinding his teeth together and just trying to breathe...

Gracia sat in the backseat of the car, lips pressed firmly together with a white-knuckle grip on her purse. They'd all wanted to call and warn Ed ahead of time, but there simply hadn't been time. Xavier might have already arrived, and a call would've done nothing to help them if Xavier, deranged as he was, was already there and Ed was fighting for his life.

Roy slammed the breaks and made another tight corner, burning rubber on his tires and speeding up again on the straight away. With each passing second, he couldn't help but wonder what was going on and if everyone was alright...

They were almost there, now, just another two hundred yards down the street. He saw it before he got there- orange bursts of flame reaching to the sky, engulfing the Hughes home, dancing towards heaven and devouring everything...

With only one man dressed in back standing on the lawn. No children. No blond boy in a red coat. No suit of armor. No little girl. Roy's heart dropped to his stomach. Gracia burst into tears in the back seat.

Roy slammed on the breaks and Hughes had jumped out of the car before it even came to a complete stop. The man was reaching into his backpack for something- a bottle of some sort was in his hand.

"HEY! YOU BASTARD! STOP!" Hughes was sprinting towards the man, now, and the man glanced over his shoulder before launching the object into the air. It soared in the night, crashing through an upstairs window- and that room, too, burst into flames.

Hughes tackled the man a second later, laying him out on the ground and scrambling, kicking, punching, punching...

Xavier's face was a bloody mess within a minute. Roy had to pull him off before he broke the man's jaw. In his frenzy, Hughes probably could've caved the man's skull in with his bare hands if Roy had let him. Hughes fought him every step of the way- the hellish heat of the flames was in the background, devouring everything.

"I'LL KILL YOU, YOU BASTARD, YOU HEAR ME!? I'LL KILL YOU!" Hughes scuffled from where Roy had a firm hold around his waist, his bloodied hands trying to pry himself free so he could keep pounding on the man.

Roy hadn't seen Hughes this frantic since Ishval. And he hadn't seen this much flames since... His hands were shaking? Why were his hands shaking?

"You're going to kill him Hughes!" Roy yelled over the crackling of the flames. "He has to stand trial! Make him pay for what he did!"

Hughes stopped struggling. looking over at Roy uncertainly. "Stand... stand trial?" he asked, voice shaking. Roy had let go of him, and Hughes blood covered hands dropped to his sides, glasses eerily reflecting the light of the flames.

"S-stand trial!? For what, dammit!? Where's Elicia, Roy!? Where's my little girl!?"

Roy had thought Xavier was unconscious, but a cackling laugh came from the bloodied man on the ground- grating, like a rusty gate in the wind- and Hughes silenced the man with a savage kick, the heel of his boot making contact with the man's jaw and shutting him up.

Gracia had gathered herself, and she ran onto the front lawn with them, tears dripping down her face as he hands shook and she stared up into the inferno...

"Elicia! Elicia! Edward! Alphonse! Oh... where's my Elicia!?" she dissolved into frantic, hiccuping sobs, sinking to her knees on the lawn. Her voice had gone up an octave in panic.

Roy had heard that tone of voice before. He'd never understood the words of it, but he'd heard it- the panic, the raw desperation, as Ishvalan mothers dug through smoldering rubble with their bare hands. He hadn't understood the language, but he'd heard it- mumbling prayers, frantically calling children's names, as they sifted through the rubble of the hellscape he'd created. He had to physically swallow back the nausea that bubbled in his throat. Since when had it gotten so hard to breathe? Oh god, Ed was in there...

Hughes looked from his wife to the blaze, as though unsure which he should run to. He turned to Roy, desperate.

"Can you put it out?"

Roy stared up at the hellish flames and slowly shook his head. He created flames- manipulated the oxygen, maintained the blast ratio, and created his own spark- made his own little pocket of destruction- in the open air of combat.

He couldn't do anything here. There was too many occupied spaces- too many items in the house, too much fuel for the flames- even if he did somehow manage to account for every molecule of oxygen arranged in the complex space, which was impossible- he wouldn't be able to remove all the oxygen, wouldn't be able to quench the flames. And even if by some miracle he could- it'd take hours for the heat to dissipate. Hours for it to be cool enough for them to search the wreckage. He wouldn't be able to keep the oxygen out for that long. And even if he could- the kids might smother before they'd get them out. It was all a pipe dream, a theoretical impossibility...

"Put it out, dammit!" Hughes put both hands on his chest and shoved him back, leaving bloody handprints on his blue uniform. Mustang stumbled, looking at his old friend with a mixture of pity and disappointment in himself...

"...I'm sorry, Hughes. I can't." his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Damn you! You're useless!" Hughes sank to all fours on the lawn, shoulders heaving, whole body trembling as the man with a perpetual smile broke.

"Edward." Roy's voice was swallowed up the the noise around them- the sirens in the distance, the sobbing of both his friends beside him, and the loudest of all- the cracking, popping of the flames as the Hughes' home- and everything they held dear- was consumed.

Roy closed his eyes, trying to stay calm despite his heart hammering in his chest. Edward- the boy who cried at night because he could still feel his skin melting. The kid who loved to drink tea with too much honey in it, and eat tatter tots for dinner. He was probably terrified, if he was even still alive...

"Hold on, Ed. Please." water dripped onto the lawn in front of him and all around him, but it wasn't raining.

What do you think will happen next? I love to hear your predictions!

Will Ed and Elicia be okay? Will Roy have a heart attack!?! Will the author have enough coffee to survive the week? Find out soon, when I’m BACK ON MY BULLSHIT!

Homina homina KOFFEE https://ko-fi.com/fluffykitty12

[miaa4tez]

Season 3, Episode 1 or so help me god... Also available on AO3.

Finally // beautiful stranger 

He sort of thought she’d maybe... say something, after everything. He’d walked home that night a bundle of uncertainty and self-doubt, but for the first time, he actually felt a bit hopeful. He and Maeve couldn’t seem to stop missing one another, and he was damn near determined that this time, it’d be different. 

 

But then the weekend came and went, and he hadn’t heard from her once, and he found himself growing more self-conscious by the second. Had he been too late? Did he miss his chance for real this time? Was she really... over him? 

 

He nearly races to school come Monday morning, a ball of nerves and pent up energy. He tries being happy for Eric as he recounts endless details about his weekend with Adam, really he does, but all he could think is whether Maeve had truly heard his confession of love and felt... nothing. That might just be the thing to do him in for good. 

 

It takes him a few laps through the school but he finally finds her in the library, a book perched on her lap and her thumbnail between her teeth. He nearly loses his nerve, can’t help but stare at her like this for a moment - unguarded, serene - but then he reminds himself that he’s done being an asshole, damnit, and pushes forward. 

 

“Um, Maeve?” Fucking loser. Man up. 

 

He sees her jaw clench, her teeth biting the inside of her cheek, her eyes shut briefly before she flips a page. He hates that he elicits that response from her now. “Studying, dickhead.” 

 

He watches her swallow and her eyes seem to be going over the same line over and over. 

 

He clenches his hands at his side. “Can we talk?” He unclenches his fists, stretches them in the silence. “Please.” 

 

She’s so good at masking her emotions, but he catches a slight hitch as she clears her throat, shuts her book with a definitive thud and stands abruptly. She meets his eyes, cool and steady, and he feels himself shrink under the weight of her gaze. “I’ve got to get to class.” 

 

She pushes past him then, out the door, and for a moment he considers letting her go. Surely she deserves better than him, better than the hurt he’s caused her. But then he spies her jacket left dangling over the couch and his body is moving without his consent.

 

“Look I know I said some stupid things but I really think we ought to talk it out so I could tell you how sorry I am,” he pleads, her jacket draped across his arm as he strides behind her. 

 

She speeds up, forcing him to trail after her. “Not much to talk about then, is there? You’re sorry, so that’s it. We’re good then.” She bites the corner of her thumb, refusing to turn and face him as she weaves through the halls. 

 

“Well I just thought...” He stops short. What did he think, really? “I hadn’t heard from you this weekend,” he mutters instead. 

 

She stops in front of her locker, flicks her eyes to his briefly, searching. He lamely extends her jacket to her and she snags it from him a touch too harsh. “Yeah well. I’ve been busy. Not everything is about you, you know.” 

 

He buries his hands deep in his jacket pockets. He’s a little ashamed it’s taken him this long to congratulate her. “Yeah, no, of course. Sorry. Congratulations, by the way. I saw you on TV.”

 

The corner of her mouth turns up in the barest hint of a smile, but she ignores his attempt to meet her eyes and reaches for her Maths book. “Right. Well it wasn’t just me.” 

 

“You should be proud of yourself, Maeve. They couldn’t have done it without you.”

 

If he’s thawing her at all, she won’t let on. She bites her bottom lip anxiously and slams her locker in a hurry, but he presses on, hands extending then retracting back to his pockets. 

 

“And I just thought we could clear the air, you know. Be friends again?... I’d really like to be your friend again, Maeve. At least.” He shakes his head. This isn’t going well. “I’ve let you down and I know that. And I understand if you didn’t lis-“ 

 

“Otis.” She interrupts him, exhaling his name almost as if she’s got no energy left. He sucks in a breath and looks at her. Sees the hurt swimming in her eyes. “Forget it, okay? We’ve tried being friends but all we do is hurt one another.” She wraps her arms tight around herself, her eyes boring holes into her shoes. “I’ve got enough people in my life to hurt me. I don’t need another.” 

 

She meets his eyes then and he couldn’t save this if he tried. He opens his mouth anyway - foolishly - but whatever he intended to say is drowned out by the class bell. 

 

Her eyes flicker to his once more - pleading him to fight back? Maybe, but she’s pushed past him and out of sight before he can find the words.

 

...

 

She’s basically a ghost for the rest of the week, slipping through the halls in silence and keeping her eyes to the ground. She‘s forgotten how easy it was to go unnoticed in this school, and she both loves and hates how easily she slips back into it. Fleetingly she thinks that she hasn’t seen Otis once, even from the corner of her eye, and it’s not like she cares or anything - she hardly noticed, really, fuck off - but the clinic has been almost nonexistent and she’s got rent due Monday and this spat between them is really fucking with her source of income.

By Friday she’s said maybe ten words total to another human being (three of which being “Piss off, Isaac” when the wanker insisted on perching himself at her doorstep after she refused to answer his calls), but she found herself somewhat comforted by still having people around her. The fact is she hates the idea of going home to an empty trailer almost as much as she doesn’t want to be at school, so she sucks it up and makes plans to ask Aimee if they can walk home together. Thinks maybe she can spend the night there if she asks, too. God, she hates asking for things. 

 

It’s not just Otis she’s avoiding. It’s everything. Her mom, her shitty fucking luck, the reality that of all the Quizheads, she’s least likely to get a full ride scholarship to Uni even though that’s the only way she can realistically afford to go. She knows she‘s destined for more than a shit job at the mall and a double wide with no heat, but she’s certain she was born in the wrong dimension, because in this one life is determined to fuck her over. 

 

Her mind is a tangle of self-doubt but she’s trying her fucking damnedest to silence it all as she waits for Aimee by the school’s entrance, perched against a tree and attempting to focus on Silas Marner - she finds it far superior and the more relatable of George Eliot’s works, no wonder it took her so long to finish Middlemarch - but she’s been standing here for over an hour and Aimee is nowhere to be found. In fact, the front lawn is basically empty aside from a couple stoners and some horny couple grinding on a bench in the corner. She checks her phone, shoots a text to Aimee, waits five minutes for the three dots to pop up and when the message comes through, she feels her heart fall to her feet.

Steve wants to try hugging. Raincheck?

The sun is setting as she walks home alone, a crisp in the air that wasn’t there last week, and she’s trying to match her steps to her heartbeats but it’s proving harder than she’d like. Who says her breathing’s more ragged than usual? Sod off. 

She wishes she hadn’t lent Erin her headphones - she’ll never see those again either - because she could really use something right now to drown out her racing thoughts. She focuses instead on the faded crescent moon rising in the sky, and by the time she walks onto the lot the sky is dark and the only thing she wants is to curl into a ball in her bed and not leave until Monday morning.

She sees the bag from far away, hanging from the door handle of her trailer. She looks left and right on impulse, wonders if it was Isaac before she feels certain it wasn’t. If her steps quicken, she’ll never admit to it.

She snags the bag quickly and slams the door behind her, fingers itching to find out what’s inside. Her hand wraps around a binder and she pulls it out slowly, suddenly nervous. A note flutters out with it and falls to her feet, and her jaw clenches as she recognizes the familiar scrawl.

 

You deserve better than all of us.

She stares at the message a moment more because she collapses into a seat at the table, binder spread out before her. She opens the first page and her throat tickles with the emotion of it all.

It’s a collection of paperwork, brochures and articles and informational pamphlets. Schools she mentioned, universities she’s named in passing conversations when she thought they were just killing time before his next session. He compiled them all by the areas of study she might be most interested, and she smirks despite herself that each school is color coded. He’d always busted her for organizing the clinic schedule like that. He’s even taken the time to highlight new places she hasn’t considered, places that offer creative writing programs and financial scholarships for independents.

She feels the smile on her lips but it’s like her brain catches up, stunned for a moment by the gesture, and she’s suddenly furious.

 

Who does he think he is? He doesn’t know what she needs, what she wants, what’s best for her. All he’s done since he came into her life was cause her pain, and now he’s trying to be some fucking savior for her? She snags a sweater strewn over the couch and is out the door before she even knows where she’s going. All she knows is that he doesn’t get to make some grand gesture and have her forgive him. It’s bullshit. She’s going to storm over there and tell him exactly where he can shove his fucking charity. He’s -

-standing in the middle of the bridge. Waiting for her.

Her breath catches in her throat and she absently notes that he looks terrified. There are so many things she wants to spit at him but for some reason she can’t find words just yet. He shocks her by speaking first.

“I didn’t want you to have to come all the way to me again,” he shrugs, the corner of his lip curling up just slightly.

She crosses her arms quickly, petulant as a child as she scoffs at him. But despite herself, she feels lighter standing before him. Damn it all to hell. “How’d you know I’d even come to you?” She’s trying for offhanded but knows she doesn’t manage it.

He scratches his ear and looks to his shoes. “I didn’t?” He has the decency to sound sheepish. “I figured I’d give it an hour or so and see if you called maybe.”

“Oh, only an hour then?” She deadpans. She gets way too much satisfaction from his rosy cheeks.

He cocks his head just so, offering her a half smile. “Maybe two,” he relents.

She feels her mouth pulling into a grin but she bites the inside of her cheek before it erupts. Instead she nods once and wrings her hands together by her chest. The silence sits between them and it’s colder out here than it was an hour ago.

“I’m sorry,” she hears him breath, and he must realize how quiet he said it because he clears his throat and meets her eyes. “I’m really sorry.” Louder this time, more conviction.

She can see the sincerity in his eyes and he always did know how to get to her. She nods this time, her mouth twisting in a wry smirk. “Yeah you should be,” she jokes, but it doesn’t feel much like a joke once it’s out of her mouth, and she feels the frustration seep back in. “You know, you can’t go around trying to manipulate me by doing something nice. Doesn’t work like that. You’re not charming, you know.”

Otis blinks. “Is that what you were coming to tell me?”

“What?”

“You were headed to my house, weren’t you? Was that what you were going to say?”

Her eyes widen, indignant, and the anger mounts. “Yes,” she demands. “You can’t just hurt me and expect it to all be okay just like that. It’s not. I trusted you, Otis, and you let me down. Everyone else is shit but I never thought you’d...” her voice catches and a small sob fills her chest but she won’t let it out. Refuses. Instead she stops, catching her breath and turning her head to the side as angry tears threaten to pour over. She digs a nail into her palm to stop them. She won’t let him do this to her again.

He takes a tentative step forward and reaches out for her slightly, and she finds great satisfaction when he retracts his hand, until she follows his gaze and realizes he must notice that she’s wearing his sweater. Shit.

It seems to embolden him though and he looks to her again. “I know, and Maeve, I know I hurt you and I was a dickhead -“

“Massive dickhead,” she elaborates.

“But I don’t think it’s all my fault.” He finishes.

She’s certain she heard him wrong.

“Excuse me?” She gapes, incredulous.

“We’ve been tiptoeing around each other for months,” Otis argues, arms up for emphasis. “All year, really. And then Jackson -

“Are you seriously turning this around on me?” She can’t believe him.

“No but -

“‘Cause it sounds like you are -“

“I’m not!” He insists. “It’s just that...you’re you! And I’m ME and, and we were friends. Such good friends, Maeve, and then you... And it just made me so angry that you didn’t tell me you liked me until things with Ola.... it’s just... I had no idea someone like you could have possibly liked someone like me.”

 

Her nostrils flare with her anger and she’s trying not to strangle him right this instant. She’s not sure if it’s because he doubted her or that he’s so fucking sure he’s right (and so what if he is a little?) “Right well it’s probably for the best you didn’t know. I’m the most selfish person you know, after all.”

 

He sighs loudly. “Maeve, of course I didn’t mean that.“

“It sounded like you did,” she quips.

“I was so drunk. I ate a whole roast chicken that night! And I was confused and I was trying to hurt you like I was hurting when of course you didn’t deserve it.” 

He’s got her there.

She sniffles and crosses her arms, choosing to count the railings on the bridge rather than meet his eyes.

 

He sighs and reaches toward her, palms open. “I know I can’t take back what I did. And I know things are still broken between us. But... I like you, Maeve. I really, really like you.”

She looks up then, against her own will honestly, but he’s got his eyes closed. Either because he can’t look at her either or he’s mustering up the courage, she can’t be sure.

He rubs a hand over his face and chuckles ironically. “Hell I think I even love you. You’re brave and you’re resilient and you’re honest and you’re good. Life should have taken you out dozens of times already but you never let it. You’re too good for every fucking one of us and we just keep letting you down over and over. But I want to be there for you. I want to be the one you turn to. I don’t want you to feel alone or scared or hurt. And I hate that I’ve already done all those things but if you let me, if you give me a chance, I promise I won’t hurt you again. And I know, I know so many people have said that to you before, but I’m going to prove it. You don’t have to believe me, but let me prove it to you. Please. I -“

She’s not sure at what point in his speech her arms drop to her sides, when her brow smooths and her gaze softens and her lip drops just slightly. She feels the heat pool in her chest, warm and bubbling and even a little uncomfortable, blooming its way up her neck to her cheeks and face. And in her haze she really can’t remember when she steps forward and brings her mouth to his, soft but hard all at once, but she knows when she does that she’s never quite had a kiss like this in her life.

That is, because he doesn’t quite kiss her back.

Her lips are tingling but his body is like a statue before her, and she’s sure he’s unconscious but she can feel his heart thrumming beneath her hands atop his chest, and has she killed him? She pulls back slightly, exhaling a harsh breath, not daring to meet his eyes but seemingly incapable of putting more than an inch of distance between them. The barrier’s been broken now and she finds she’s never been warmer in her whole life. She’s about to say something, anything really, when his hands come up to cup her cheeks, coaxing her to look him in the eyes. Nerves grasp her now - it was so impulsive, she didn’t give it a second of thought before - but she has no time for them. She hears him swallow just as he pinches her chin and brings her mouth to his once more, and this is what their first kiss should have been. His lips are tender on hers and she wants to be closer to him all at once, so she wraps her arms around his waist and opens her mouth, feeling his breath on her tongue before his follows along. She was sure he’d be timid but it’s like his body is reacting all on its own, and she can’t help herself. Her lips curl into a smile against his mouth, and she nearly melts into a puddle when his thumb comes to the corner of her lip, the pad of his finger tracing the outline of her smile.

When they properly pull back for a breath, she can feel his eyes on her, blue crystals boring into her soul, and for the life of her she has no idea why she meets his gaze. She wants to look away but somehow she can’t, and he’s smiling at her and by God if she’s not absolutely fucking in love with this dickhead.

“You kissed me.” He tucks her hair behind her ear as he says it and she hates him even more. Her life will never be just hers again.

She licks her lips. “Tell anyone about this and I’ll bite your dick off. Okay mouth breather?” There isn’t the slightest trace of malice in her voice. It’s barely above a whisper.

Otis nods once, brow creased in mock seriousness. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m still angry at you,” she murmurs, eyes fixated on his bottom lip as she grips the ends of his shirt tighter.

He swallows hard and nods. “I know. I’m still angry with me too.”

She wants to keep the banter going but she’s got no fight in her, just butterflies wrecking havoc on her stomach and fire in her cheeks. She can’t stop staring at his lips - it’s like he’s cast a spell on her or something - and then she remembers she can do it again if she wants. This is going to be a real problem, she can tell. She’s on her tiptoes when he seems to remember the same thing, and he’s wearing the goofiest smile when he brings her face to his and leans down to kiss her again.

(It might take him a few hours to calm her down after he tells her about the missing voicemail - she could fucking murder Isaac - but he quickly finds exactly how to shut her up. If they don’t sleep that night, it’s entirely his fault.)

...

Note: this was shit but I wrote it in the notes on my phone because please let them be together next season PLEASE. It’s my first tumbler post too so sorry the format is weird as shit.

[snowycrocus]

The Spirit of Racing

Frozen 2 Fanfiction

Thanks to @blunaowl​ for this prompt of Elsa & Kristoff racing their trusty steeds!

-----

She really was different, Kristoff thought. And it wasn’t just that she let down her hair.

(Anna had had to tell him – “she didn’t cut it, you big buffoon, she let it loose!”)

Or something, Elsa had said, and he finally figured out what that something was, more or less.

It was acceptance. Confidence.

Now that Elsa knew who she was, why she was, it was as though everything that had been holding her back had suddenly evaporated into the air just as it did when she thawed her ice. Usually, anyway.

She smiled more, her arms were looser, and though she had always held herself ramrod-straight, her back seemed straighter not just out of impeccable posture, but out of self-assuredness.

It looked good on her.

Except, Kristoff thought, when that self-confidence was aimed against him.

Elsa’s long fingers clenched and unclenched around the Nøkk’s reins. Her eyes narrowed to slits and Kristoff watched as her legs flexed and tightened against her ride’s frozen sides.

In turn, Kristoff hunched down closer to Sven’s back. “We got this, buddy,” he whispered, and Sven huffed in agreement. His hoof pawed the ground in preparation for the count.

The sounds of cheers rang in his ears and he tried desperately to block them out and focus.

“Lady Elsa!” He heard someone scream. “May the spirits be with you!” Kristoff rolled his eyes. Lady Elsa was frickin’ sitting on one.

“Long live the King!” Another shouted, and Kristoff winced at the title. “May you ride fast and true!”

“Three!”

“Two!”

“One!”

The bell rang, and the roaring of the crowd compounded with Sven and the Nøkk’s hooves pounded in his ears…

---

It had all started out with an innocent question.

And ho, boy did he regret it now!

But after seeing Elsa ride the Nøkk for the umpteenth time across the fjord, he couldn’t help but ask:

“Where’d you learn to ride like that?”

“I didn’t,” she giggled softly. The hand no longer came up to cover her mouth. Not for the small bouts of laughter, anyway.

She elaborated at his furrowed eyebrows and Anna’s, “wait, what?”

“I haven’t ridden since I was a child, after…we were separated,” she started. She dismounted and greeted them both with a hug despite the rough topic.

“But we just kind of….fit,” she said, referring to the Nøkk. “His spirit of the water and the ice in me…they naturally are a part of each other. We had to learn to understand each other, back in the ocean while I was trying to reach Ahtohallan, but ever since then my power flows through his and we…it just feels like we’re the same spirit.”

“Aw, just like you and Sven, Kristoff!” Anna jokes. She’s taken off her tiara for the night in preparation for their weekly game night and sleepover, and her cheeks are pink and eyes bright with excitement.

“Well, we share the same mind, you know. Isn’t that right, Sven?”

“Sure is! You’re my spirit animal, Kristoff!” The girls chortle at the commentary.

“You two certainly do have a special way with each other,” Elsa yields.

“Sure do. Y’know, now that you’re more familiar with riding, you should give Sven a try sometime. Might come in handy, now that you live with all those reindeer. Not that they’re as good as you, buddy.” He ruffles the fur on Sven’s head.

Elsa puts her hand on her hip. “No need,” she says, raising an eyebrow slyly, a taunting smile forming on her lips. Kristoff knows that smirk. “I like to go fast, anyway.”

Sven harrumphs, and Kristoff feels his own hackles rising. “Um, excuse me? Are you saying we don’t go fast?”

“Wellll…..” Elsa trails off, running her fingers down the Nøkk’s back, and looks back at him with a challenging grin. “I didn’t say it.”

“Ohhhhh boy!” Anna rubs her hands together excitedly. She senses what’s coming, shooting eager glances between the two people she loves most.

“Is that a challenge?” Kristoff straightens his back and strides up to Elsa. He hopes it feels as intimidating as he wants it to be. She may be some special-spirit-whatever, but as he looks down his nose at her he tries to convey that he will defeat her if necessary in a race.

Sven stalks up to the Nøkk and snorts in front of the water horse’s snout. The Nøkk rears back and stomps both front hooves, releasing a sudden spray of water that drenches Sven. He sputters and runs behind Kristoff.

Kristoff shakes his head in loving disbelief. “You two may run fast on water and ice,” he starts, arms folding to cross over his chest. “But me and Sven have you two beat on land.”

“Sven and I,” Elsa corrects, “and you’re on.”

---

After hearing the challenge, Anna, as queen, had a racing track built around the outskirts of the city of Arendelle.

“Ooh, this is perfect!” She had exclaimed, fanning her hands out in front of her as she imagined the scene. “This’ll create jobs and give the people something to look forward to! Everyone will want to celebrate the race between our former-queen-turned-ice-spirit and the King consort!”

Sure enough, she was right. Hundreds had come to watch the competition unfold between two of the three most talked-about people in the Kingdom. Bets were placed, people clamored to get the closest spots to the racetrack, food was brought and passed around.

The Nøkk may be magical, Kristoff thinks, but he’s used to only running on water, not land and snow. Surely he and Sven have the home advantage.

And that seems to be the case at first. For the first few minutes, Kristoff can hear the even, steady stride of the Nøkk from behind Sven. The path isn’t easy, and he feels confident that the uneven terrain and obstacles will keep Elsa and her spirit-horse safely behind. There are dips in the ground, crusts of icy snow, and hidden branches buried in the fallen powder. He and Sven were born for this environment. A magical being? Maybe not so much.

He internally cheers when he hears Elsa’s brief cry of alarm when the Nøkk stumbles over a snow-buried log. Looking back to make sure she’s alright, he finds he’s shocked to find his competitors are much, much closer than he had thought.

“Let’s go, Sven,” he urges his friend.

He hangs on as Sven puts forth a burst of speed, only to be taken aback when he hears a grunt from Elsa sidling up right next to him.

Her cheeks are flushed a bright pink, excitement dancing in her eyes and concentration furrowing her brow. She’s created riding trousers for herself, though her feet are bare as they always seem to be nowadays.

And of course, she’s wearing a cape. It soars out behind her from the wind, taunting Kristoff as she and the Nøkk surpass them.

Kristoff taps Sven, who’s beginning to pant with the effort to regain his first place spot. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Sven looks back for a second to give Kristoff a grin, then lunges forward to grip Elsa’s cape in his teeth. He pulls back…..

Elsa startles at the tug.

But then her eyes narrow, glinting, and she cocks one of those classic Elsa smirks. One hand raises from the Nøkk’s reins to snap her fingers.

The cape disconnects from her fitted top, sliding off of her shoulders….and right into Sven and Kristoff’s faces.

“Arghhh!” Kristoff shouts as he desperately tries to throw the cape off so they can see once again. Sven has to come to a stop to avoid running straight into a tree.

By the time he throws off the cape, mere seconds later, Elsa and the Nøkk are gone.

---

“This is so not fair!” Kristoff exclaims as he watches Elsa accept a trophy from Anna. “They’re magical!”

People from the kingdom cheer for Lady Elsa while others shoot depressed glares at their King consort while paying their lost bet.

Elsa laughs, waving to her fans that she just made much richer. She slides her hand over the Nøkk’s nose and feeds him an ice carrot. Sven looks on in jealousy.

“I didn’t hear you complaining when Olaf’s magic and rearranging helped you two win charades,” she argues, one slim eyebrow raised.  

“Yeah, well… that’s different!”

Even Sven snorts at that.

“Don’t worry too much,” Elsa chides him, “I’m sure among the average human and reindeer you both would be considered very fast.” She winks. Kristoff can’t help but smile at her easygoing banter and cheerfulness. She deserves it now.

Elsa gives Kristoff an extremely quick hug and Sven a light pat before heading off to meet with her clamoring child admirers.

“Oh, c’mere you big loser!”

Anna plants a big kiss on his cheek, and Kristoff flushes in both embarrassment and pleasure.

He may not be a magical winner, but sometimes he sure does feel like one.

 ---

Let me know what you think! Many thanks to @blunaowl​ for the prompt!! Forgive me if this is a bit weak as I’m not used to writing stuff without angst. @frozenbassist and @justlookatthosesausages you both mentioned you’d want to read this so tagging you.

This inspired me for Frozen 2 ice bros, and now I’ve got lots of ideas to write, coming soon! 

[stupidwithu]

I’m the loser (you know I’m gonna come undone)

this is extremely self-indulgent and honestly not that well written but it’s here now

summary: Eddie’s sick and Richie loves him.

Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak (IT)

__________

Eddie collapses into the hammock with a deep-rooted sigh. Subconsciously, his legs swing over the edge of it, in the direction of Richie’s head, who catches both Eddie’s ankles in a single hand.

“Occupado, asshole.”

“Fuck you,” Eddie says emptily. His voice is unusually subdued, Richie thinks, and the taller boy crinkles his nose at the sound of it.

“What’s your problem?” Eddie glares.

“What’s yours?”

Their banter is jaded. For once, there’s no venom – or even humor – behind Richie’s words. Just curiosity.

Eddie, on the other hand, seems… off.

“Eds?”

Eddie groans.

“You okay?”

Eddie offers a sock-clad tap to Richie’s left cheek. Richie slaps his foot away, rolling his eyes when it comes right back, knocking the rims off the bridge of his nose.

“I’m serious,” Richie exhales. “You look—”

“Like shit,” Stanley finishes. Richie narrows his eyes at him, like he’s just now remembering he and Eddie aren’t alone.

This seems to catch the rest of the losers’ attention. They turn in almost-creepy unison to face the boys with looks that are equal parts interest and concern. Richie blushes. He nudges Eddie away.

Eddie makes himself known with a soft whimper, curling in on himself with his back to the group (Richie can still see his face, all scrunched up and irritated). He doesn’t like the attention he’s getting. Not now. Not like this.

“I just don’t feel good, okay?” His voice is muffled by his own knees, pressed against his lips like he’s trying to make himself smaller. “Leave me alone.”

Richie’s seconds away from a Seriously, Eds? How old are you? when Bill cuts him off.

“What’s wr… what’s wrong, Eddie?”

For some reason, watching his friends fret over the boy before him makes Richie feel strange. An uncomfortable sensation bubbles up in his stomach and his blood goes warm. He swallows hard, opens his mouth, and says nothing.

In a matter of seconds, Beverly is crouched at Eddie’s side, one of her hands finding residence beneath his hair. Bill stands behind her, arms crossed, and Ben’s there too, like he wants to make sure he looks useful and caring, in case Bev happens to look his way.

Stanley and Mike keep their distance, and Richie doesn’t blame them, because a few hushed whispers into the love triangle’s apprehensive exchange and Eddie’s bolting upright, pushing them away – or at least attempting to. Richie scrambles to plant a foot on the ground to keep himself from falling as Eddie rocks the hammock.

“Stop!” He screeches. “Stop fucking touching me. I mean it!”

He’s breathing heavy. Richie can tell he’s got more to say.

“Eddie—” Ben starts, but Beverly gives the smallest shake of her head and he purses his lips. How does she do it?

“Guys,” Mike says then, and all heads but Eddie’s follow his voice. He cocks his head in the direction of the clubhouse entrance. “A word?”

With hesitant, almost shameful movements, they follow Mike and Stan up the ladder and into the afternoon sun.

Richie lingers a few seconds longer. He’s hoping Eddie will ask him to stay.

As if on cue, he tugs feebly at Richie’s wrist.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, not even when Richie tries one of his more annoying nicknames, but he doesn’t loosen his grip, either, and nobody seems to mind when they don’t move at all.

_____

When Eddie wakes, it’s to the feeling of Richie’s hands cupping both sides of his face.

For a moment, the soft yet slightly panicked brush of Richie’s skin against his cheeks makes Eddie think he’s at the Neibolt house again. His arm jolts in protest, but it doesn’t hurt like it did before. It’s not broken, and that’s not where they are.

The clubhouse, Eddie remembers slowly.

While he was asleep, it got dark. Richie switched positions somewhere between Stanley saying goodbye and Bev popping back in to kiss Eddie’s forehead. They’re laying in the same direction now, still in the hammock, bodies pushed together so that Eddie’s fanny pack is pressed uncomfortably to Richie’s torso. A surge of guilt runs through him. He wonders how long they’ve been like this. Eddie almost thinks he remembers Richie playing with his hair, but he might’ve dreamt that.

“Wha—Where’s everyone?”

“Not here,” Richie shrugs. He’s sweating, Eddie notices. How the fuck? It’s freezing. “Bill was the last one to leave, like an hour ago. I would’ve gone, too, but you just looked so adorable laying here all feverish and helpless, I—”

“Beep beep,” Eddie coughs. “R-Richie.”

“Oh, come on!” Richie has an argument on the tip of his tongue (that was not means for a beeping, Eds), but it falls to nothing when the coughing doesn’t stop. “Eddie!”

Eddie tries to sit up, but he’s light in the hammock and Richie’s weighing it down. He makes it halfway up before collapsing into Richie’s chest, pushing against him without an ounce of strength. He starts to wheeze, and Richie springs into action.

He falls to his knees before a now-seated Eddie, who hacks into the crook of his elbow. Richie winces, rather unhelpfully, giving one of his shoulders a tight squeeze. “C’mon, Eds. It’s okay. Breathe.”

When he’s able, Eddie punches Richie in the chest. “I’m trying, dipshit.”

Richie just smiles.

“I’m sorry you’re sick.”

Eddie frowns. Richie sounds so sincere. “I’m not—”

“Ben said he’d stop by with meds and if those don’t help, I’ll—”

Eddie pales.

“Shit, are you gonna puke?”

Eddie ignores him. “What meds?”

“I don’t fucking know, like, fever reducer…? I’m not a doctor.”

Eddie stands, nearly knocking Richie over in the process. A sudden fury crosses over his features. He fumbles with the buckle of his fanny pack, but his hands are trembling.

Richie rises in a matter of seconds, towering over him in a more natural stance. He covers Eddie’s hands with his own, an uncharacteristic gentleness overcoming him. “What do you need?”

Richie reaches for the zipper just as Eddie gets the belt undone. He tosses the bag as far as he can manage. It hits the wall then crashes against the ground with an empty thud. Richie flinches.

“Eddie?”

“Nothing! I don’t—I don’t fucking need anything in there!”

“Uh,”

“I don’t need medicine, Richie.”

Richie makes a weird face. Eddie wants to punch him. “Oh.”

“Fucking what, Richie?”

“This is about Sonia.”

“What?!” Eddie’s eyes go wide. “No, it isn’t.”

“Of course it is.” Richie runs a hand over his face. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner! That fucking bitch traumatized you.”

“N-no.”

“You’re not sick, Eddie Bear, but you are sick—like with the flu or some shit, it’s actually disgusting—”

Eddie swings, but Richie avoids the hit easily.

“Stop!”

“I’m sorry she lied to you.” Sincere again. It’s not a good color on Richie, Eddie thinks. “That’s, like, a lot to unpack and it’s getting late, but you know your mom’s a piece of shit and I don’t think—”

“Fuck you, Richie.”

At that, Richie stops. Not because of the dark hatred that his favorite person in the entire world just spat at him, but because Eddie’s crying. Actually, openly sobbing. Eddie was furious and screeching and burning red and Richie blinked and now his face is wet and blotchy and he’s hiccupping and fucking crying. Just like that.

“Eds…”

“My mom loves me.”

“I—”

“Shut the fuck up. Just—just, for once in your goddamn life, Richie—”

“That’s not fair.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Eddie’s furious again, but it’s short-lived. He takes a half-step forward before his knees buckle and he collapses into Richie’s open arms. He’s sick, gross, and mean but Richie doesn’t even blink. He pulls him close, waiting patiently as Eddie cries into his shirt.

“My mom loves me,” he sobs.

One of Richie’s hands snakes up Eddie’s neck, simultaneously testing his fever and taking the ends of his hair between his fingers in a soothing gesture. The other arm’s around his waist, keeping him steady. Eddie’s otherwise completely limp, clenching and unclenching the damp fabric on Richie’s back.

“I love you,” Richie says without thinking. Eddie sniffles. “I just mean… of course your mom loves you, Eds, she just—I don’t know. She just—She doesn’t—”

Richie pauses, takes a deep breath. He knows what he wants to say. He just doesn’t know if Eddie wants to hear it. Honestly, he thinks he already knows.

“The losers love you,” he corrects. “And we don’t want to see you sick, or hurting, like, ever…” he sighs. “Look at you, Eds.”

He’s referring to Eddie’s sickly pale skin – save for the bright pink fever and the tear stains – and his glossy eyes and his chapped lips and the way his tiny body shakes and his voice cracks. Richie knows he’ll be fine, but he can’t help the way his heart breaks.

“I didn’t think about how hard it must be for you. Meds, after everything… You don’t have to take them if you don’t want to. We just thought it might help if you woke up still feeling shitty and it seems like—”

Richie cuts himself off again. He clears his throat. “Anyways, are you done needing consoling? Because I’m not good at it and if you ever tell anyone I’m saying all this sappy shit, Edward, so help me—”

Eddie squeezes him tight. “I’ll take them.”

“Okay.”

“Please don’t take me home.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be.”

“—I just wanna be here, just for a little while longer.”

“Okay.”

Richie would stay with him all night, if he asked.

Eddie pulls away, just slightly, and Richie helps him stand on his own. They’re silent for a while. Eddie’s staring, but Richie can’t bring himself to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

Richie wants to kiss the words off his lips. He leans down and kisses his clammy forehead instead.

Eddie’s eyes are wide and Richie’s are closed, until Richie pulls away and they blink their expressions back to normal.

“I, uh, I love you too, Rich.”

[kyukun]

Haunted House (OumaSai)

ofc ofc! gOd i love me some spOOpy saiou haha

this is just an au where kichi is nicer lmao cause why not

title: Haunted House

summary: On one particular October evening, the squad all collectively decide to go trick or treating together. Kokichi sees a haunted house along the way and believes it would be the perfect pranking opportunity. 

word count: 1568

~~ prompt starts after cut! ~~

It was Halloween; everywhere and everyone was completely decked out in spooky attire. Many houses along Shuichi’s street had extreme to moderate amounts of Halloween decor, some consisting of just pumpkins and fake gravestones with skeletons and cobwebs to the more extreme houses which had projections of creepy eyes or moving plastic ghouls whom of which would inevitably spook kids. 

His house on the other hand was more on the plain side. He only had some lights strung up with a pot of candy beside their door with a sign that read ‘take one.’ While he knew full well that nobody alive would just take one, he kept it there anyway. He and his friends had been planning to go trick or treating for the last year as high schoolers. 

His uncle had been working on Halloween so he saw no particular reason to stay at home, eventually agreeing to go trick or treating with the group anyway. He waited outside his door, checking the time on his phone. He wore a simple vampire costume. It consisted of a black cape with red fabric on the inside that flared out in the neck, as well as a fluffy white dress shirt and a vest that had gold buttons embroidered on each side. 

He even bought those stupid fake fangs that they hand out in dollar stores with fake blood dripping down his chin. The teeth had begun to hurt him a tad so he decided to take them out before being greeted by a loud shout. 

“Saihara-chan!”

He looked up and saw Kokichi and the rest in their costumes walking toward him. Kaito wore a really… odd Halloween outfit. It was a cowboy suit that exposed his chest which he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at. His eyes shifted down towards Kokichi, his face grew a tad heated at his costume. It was rather scandalous, to be honest.

“Hey guys. Kokichi… what are you wearing?”

He crossed his arms, holding a bright red whip in his right hand. He could see him furrow his eyebrows through the matching red cat mask that covered a bit more than half of his face. “Do you seriously not know who this is? Saihara-chan I’m so disappointed!“ 

Kiibo shook his head, holding a plastic pumpkin in his hand. "Not this again." 

Shuichi raised an eyebrow but remained silent as the group continued to stare away from Kokichi in embarrassment? "I’m Ann from Persona 5! God, Shuichi! You’re the one who I thought would’ve liked this costume more than anyone else. For more reasons than one…” His voice lowered, he moved his arms over Shuichi’s shoulders which incidentally pulled him closer.

His smirk remained, Kokichi drew himself closer now on his tiptoes while Shuichi froze, unable to move as his face heated. “Calm your horny ass down, Cock itchy. Let’s go get some fucking candy!” Kokichi released Shuichi with a sigh, innocently skipping over to Rantaro who wore a simple pirate outfit. The group moved along a few houses not long after.

After about a few solid hours of candy searching, Kokichi noticed something a few houses down. A haunted house. That’s perfect! Halloween is a holiday known for mischief and pranks after all, right? This would be the perfect opportunity to prank everyone. Kokichi halted the group, which drew out a few groans from Kaito and Miu. 

“Let’s go to a haunted house!” He suggested, tugging on Shuichi’s sleeve while the rest stared with their eyebrows raised. He knew full well that if he got Shuichi to tag along, the rest would follow and eventually everyone would go. So all he had to do was guilt trip Shuichi into going. “Shumai, please? This is our last time going trick or treating as third years! You’re always saying we should make the most of it, so what better way to do that than to try something different?”

Fair point. 

He noticed the taller male’s gaze melt into his. That was the minute he knew he had him. Shuichi was so easy to read. “I mean I guess but–”

“Great! Let’s go!” Not allowing Shuichi to continue, he ran as fast as he could with the teen in hand, leaving the rest behind without a second thought. He could still hear the others let out groans as they reluctantly followed the pair. 

The house had been decorated pretty well, the eery decorations adding onto the already creepy house. The surrounding area was darker but still had a single street light illuminating the pavement and a bit of the house. 

Kokichi giggled as he opened the unlocked door which earned a few concerning comments as he carelessly walked inside. “Kokichi, please be careful–”

The rest of the group went inside the moment they realize he wouldn’t listen. Shuichi silently stayed behind Kokichi, shaking a bit as the lights slowly had begun fading from view. Luckily, he could still see the glowing bracelet everyone in the group had for safety (in accordance to Kiibo,) and continued to walk beside Kokichi’s purple bracelet. 

“Guys stop being so scared! Nothing’s going to hap– woah!” He had spoken too soon and before he knew it, a pair of hands grabbed him from behind and pulled him into a room. “Kokichi–!” The same hands had pulled Shuichi into the same room.

“Guys?! What’s happening?! Oh god, I need my inhaler.” Kiibo screamed, clinging onto Miu as she held hands with Kaede. “You’re going to be fine! Just fucking breathe–” The group was now all split up, living Kaito with Maki as the two stayed close to one another.

Kokichi looked around the room, it was a pretty cliché one at that. Not scary at all. He sighed and closed his eyes. Just great. It was one of those haunted houses. He could’ve sworn he heard a voice mutter his name. It sounded familiar. He turned around and noticed a figure cowarded in the corner. Even better. What scared loser did he get stuck with?

“K-Kokichi, please tell me that’s you." 

Oops, that’s just Shuichi.

Well then.

Well done, mysterious hands.

"It’s me Shumai. Why are you hiding in the corner? This room isn’t even that scary.” He bent down to the cornered figure and put his hand on the latter’s hair in soothing motions. “I hope everyone’s okay.”

“I’m sure they’re fine. Now, you have to get up so we can meet everyone and get out of here. None of this stuff is even real, look!” Kokichi grabbed a fake spider and wiggled it around in front of Shuichi’s face, “Look at me! My name is Arachno, y'know, like arachnophobia!” He teased, making a funny voice in an attempt to make Shuichi laugh, to which it did.

“Thanks.”

“Eh, it’s no biggie. I just want more candy so the faster we get out of here, the better.” He shrugged, placing both his hands behind his head while Shuichi stood on both his feet. It made Kokichi happy that he did that. He made Shuichi feel better. Though he’d never admit the pride and warmth he felt when his best friend and secret crush stand up and laugh because of something he did. 

Instead, he just decided to bask in the glory in secret. The two walked together side by side through the room before Kokichi felt something grab his foot, and in response, screamed and fell over in the dimly lit room. “Kokichi?!” Shuichi immediately bent down to the figure and checked on him.

“Are you okay? Can you move your foot?” In this heap of worry and through the darkened room, Kokichi could still see his grey eyes shine. His lips curled into a smile as the frantic vampire gently tried to hoist him up against the wall while trying to not move him too much.

“Saihara-chan, I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

“Really. I’m fine.” In a moment of silence, the two locked eyes. Kokichi caressed Shuichi’s cheek, bringing his lips closer to his. Shuichi didn’t know what had came over him. He felt his entire body melt into Kokichi’s touch as the slight sound of rubber could be heard with each movement Kokichi had made. 

Shuichi stared deep into Kokichi’s eyes which were beaming through the red cat mask he had worn. Next thing he knew, his body had taken over and their lips locked. It had felt like a thirst he never knew he had was finally being quenched. 

Like a need that was being fulfilled after a long wait. That type of thing.

Shuichi had no fucking clue what he was doing but god did it feel amazing. Kokichi was now limped over, Shuichi’s grip the only thing that’s keeping his body from completely collapsing. 

His small body shivered under his touch the more his own fingers explored the frame beneath him. Shuichi unclenched his jaw and released Kokichi from his lips, panting a bit. “You worry too much.” Kokichi laughed, ruffling his hair with his hand.

Shuichi could feel his face turn red in a realization of what he had just done. “Let’s just get back to the group.” Kokichi nodded as he helped him off of the ground.

They eventually found their way out of the house as well as the others. But no one really seemed to question why the two came out holding hands. Oh well. It was probably for the better anyway. 

[mistletouchunderthetree]

2 🥺

the sentence for this prompt is “close the door” and this was originally going to be a part 1 and part 2 would be when they reunite as adults but i don’t know that i’ll ever get around to actually writing it?? so just imagine that after this they reunite as adults and live happily ever after 

this is...angst city. warning for homophobia, internalized and externalized, including slurs. also this isn’t specifically movie verse so it’s bi!richie in case that needs to be a warning for anyone

anyway enjoy these 15 year olds not knowing how to handle emotions!!!!!

Richie was meandering. Helet his hands drag along the tops of weeds as he walked slowly down the path,kicking rocks as he saw them. He didn’t have shit to do and decided anafternoon reading comics in the clubhouse could cure his boredom, but while hewas making his way there, so close he could see the rock they placed on thehatch so they could easily find it, he heard noises behind him. Scuffling,shouting, loud and quick footsteps. Slower footsteps.

Just because Bowers wasgone didn’t mean a new batch of bullies didn’t pop up as quickly as he fell.

Through the trees he saw asmall figure running full speed toward him and he sprung into action, rushingtoward the clubhouse and opening the hatch. When Eddie made it to the clearinghis face was bright red, his hair sticking to his face and neck with sweat. Richieheld a finger up to his lips, a silent shush, and Eddie nodded, skidding to aslower pace and practically falling into the clubhouse.

“There are stairs, youknow,” Richie said helpfully, standing on the top step.

“Close the door, they’refucking right behind me!”

Richie pulled the doorshut and the clubhouse fell into darkness. They turned on some rigged lights,as Eddie collapsed onto the ground, arms and legs spread and panting.

“Where the fuck is he?” Avoice asked above him. Eddie jolted into a sitting position, eyes wide.

“He’s gotta be hiding,”another said. “He’s little but he ain’t that fast.”

“It’s not even worth it,man,” the first voice said. He was out of breath. Richie moved closer to Eddie,sitting next to him on the floor. Eddie scooted closer, pressing against Richie’sside and clutching his arm.

“Yeah it fuckin’ is,” theother boy argued. “Girly-boy was runnin’ his mouth all semester. I couldn’t doanything about it til now or I’d get kicked off the team but ain’t no team in summer.”

“I’m sure we’ll catch himanother day, dude. Are we gonna spend our day chasing a fucking fairy?”

Eddie let go of Richie’sarm suddenly, shoving himself toward the wall of the clubhouse. Richie squintedat him in the dim light. He had his knees brought up to his chest and his armswrapped tightly around them. His eyes were shut tight, his whole face pinchedwith it. The voices got farther away until they couldn’t hear them at all, andRichie kept watching Eddie, who hadn’t relaxed.

“They’re gone,” Richiesaid, breaking the silence. “Are you okay?”

Eddie sucked in a deepbreath and let it out slowly, then did it again. He opened his eyes; they werewet with unshed tears.

“Dude, what happened?”

Eddie laughed withouthumor, looking away. “Nothing.”

Richie frowned. “Uh, clearlyit’s not nothing, you just freaked out for no reason.”

“Leave me alone.”

He stood and walked to theback of the clubhouse, climbing into the hammock. He didn’t grab a comic likeusual, just crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the dirt ceiling.

Richie scoffed at hisbehavior and stood as well, picking a comic from their selection and then goingto the hammock. Over the two years that the losers had utilized the hammock,they’d come to a mutual agreement that rather than arguing about time limitsand taking turns, they could both easily fit and each get double the time. Itwas a perfect system, even if it usually led to one of them sticking a sockedfoot in the other’s face.

Just as Richie picked his footoff the ground to remove his shoe, Eddie growled, “Don’t.”

“What?”

“I said, don’t,” Eddiesaid angrily. “I’m using the fucking hammock right now. Stop being so touchywith me, I don’t want you all over me.”

Richie’s stomach plummeted.He was pretty positive he was about to throw up.

“Okay,” he said quietly.He turned and started walking to the hatch, afternoon of reading comics forgotten.“I’m gonna go.”

He barely made it to thefirst step before Eddie’s voice filled the clubhouse.

“I’m not fucking gay.”

Richie grabbed the railingof the stairs and squeezed until his knuckles were white.

“I never said you were,Eddie,” he answered as calmly as possible. The throwing up was stillpotentially on the table.

“It’s all anybody callsme. I’m a fag or a fairy or a girly-boy or littlesissyqueerboy.” He said it inone breath, one word, the way Bowers used to. It was the first mean name he’dever been called, and Richie knew how much Eddie hated it.

“Okay but… We don’t saythat shit,” Richie said. “Those guys don’t fucking matter, man. The losers knowyou’re… That you’re straight.”

He stepped away from thestairs, unclenching his hand and ignoring the pain from clutching the wood.

Eddie was sitting on theedge of the hammock, head in his hands and elbows on his knees. Richie couldsee the tension through his entire body, like he was ready to snap and explode.

“They call us that, too.”

“But you’re other things beforethat. Fucking Bucky Beaver or Four Eyes or something about how you never shutup. But it’s the only thing they call me. It’s the only thing they’ve evercalled me. It’s who I am. So don’t act like it’s the fucking same because it’snot. They call you gay because they’re trying to goad you; they call me gaybecause they think I actually am.”

“So? So fucking what ifthey think that? We’re all dealing with shit, we all get bullied! That’s why we’refucking losers!”

Eddie rolled his eyes andcrossed his arms over his chest again. Richie thought about just screaming atthe top of his lungs, something to get all the nervous tension out of his bodybecause this was too much, this conversation was going in a dangerous directionand he just wanted to run. But he couldn’t leave Eddie. He never acted likethis, they never actually argued, and his insides were turning inside out overthe fact that the one time they do it’s about being gay. He’d imagined this.This conversation was headed toward his worst fucking nightmare, a train onbroken tracks with no brakes, hurtling toward a cliff with nothing to softenthe blow at the bottom, just rocks, sharp and unrelenting.

He opened his mouth,because he was an idiot. “Eds, we’re all losers. The whole point is that we don’t…judge. You know? Everybody’s an outcast for some reason or another. We couldbully the fuck out of Bill for his stutter, or Ben for being fat, or Stan forbeing obsessed with birds, but we don’t. And I don’t think… If any of us… Uh.”

He swallowed thickly.

“If any of us had otherreasons that… you know, that other people would judge them for… I don’t thinkthe losers would do that. Right? We – if any of us were,” he blinked back thetears and cleared his throat, “gay, there wouldn’t – I mean, it wouldn’t bebad. Right?”

This was it. He was goingto puke everywhere, he was going to sob, he was going to rip his fucking hairout at the roots.

“I just said I’m notfucking gay, Richie!” Eddie yelled, face bright red.

“That’s not – I’m notsaying that!” He insisted, because he hadn’t been. “I’m saying, or like…Asking. The losers would be cool if one of us was gay, right? The answer isjust supposed to be yes, Eddie!”

“Well it’s not!”

The fight in him drainedimmediately, and he blinked quickly to keep from crying. He wouldn’t fuckingcry right now.

“It’s the same thing as adisease, like a – like, people just have to try to get better from it. Likewhen you get the flu or something and you have to cough up a bunch of stuff andblow your nose a million times. That stuff’s inside you and it’s gross and badso you have to get it out and then you get better, so no, it wouldn’t be cool.It would – we’d have to help whoever it was.”

He stared at Eddie, whohad stood and begun pacing. Richie was sure the words had come straight fromhis mother’s mouth, and he was sure that Sonia thought she was giving her soninstructions on how to save himself, not anyone else.

“That’s such fuckingbullshit,” he muttered, kicking the ground and watching minimal dirt sift intothe air. “Is that what your fucking mommy told you? She’s full of shit, Eddie!Just like your fucking inhaler is full of shit! You can’t fucking cough up yourgay feelings into a tissue and call it a goddamn day!”

“That’s not – it’s notliteral! It’s a fucking metaphor!”

“Then tell me, Eddie, howdo you get rid of it? Hmm?” His hands were shaking. “Because I’ve triedeverything I can fucking think of and it’s still here!”

Eddie seemed to stopbreathing, his brown eyes wide.

Richie felt like there wasa buzzing beneath his skin, like this had been waiting to burst out of him.

“Church? Prayer? I triedthat! Seventh grade, remember? I spent every fucking Wednesday at Bible studyand I went early on Sunday and stayed late and I prayed every stupid day andnothing! Girls? I made out with Lisa Prewitt! I fucking went down on LisaPrewitt! And I loved it! But guess what? It didn’t make me want to suck a dickany less!”

He was screaming but hecould barely hear himself over the blood rushing in his ears. There was nostopping the tears now, but it was okay because Eddie stood in the corner,shrinking in on himself. He was crying, too.

“Don’t tell me it’s thesame as getting rid of the flu. You’re so fucking gullible. Your mom just doesn’twant you to be fucking gay.”

They stared at each otherfrom across the clubhouse, both with tear tracks on their cheeks. He hated thesight of Eddie crying. He hated even more knowing he was the cause of it.

“This is a stupidargument,” Richie finally bit out, breaking their eye contact. “I didn’t – I wasn’ttrying to be mean, just… I’m pretty sure I just lost my best friend so you’llhave to excuse me for being a little emotionally volatile.”

Eddie didn’t mock his SATvocabulary like he usually did, instead just stayed standing in the corner,arms wrapped around himself like it was the only thing holding him together.

“Can you say something?”Richie said quietly.

Eddie cleared his throat. “Idon’t know what to say.”

Richie laughed hollowly.

“I mean, you could startwith whether you even want to be friends anymore.”

Eddie looked pained as hestepped out of the corner, only halfway across the room. Richie couldn’t lookat him.

“I don’t know,” he answeredin a quiet voice. Words had never sounded worse in Richie’s ears and he chokedon a sob.

“Okay,” he said, trying tosound normal when it was clear he was crying. He sniffled, taking large stridestoward the stairs. “I’m gonna go.”

Eddie didn’t stop him thistime.

When he got home a fewhours later, after finding a secluded spot in the barrens and crying everythingout, he found his parents sitting at the kitchen table. They told him thatwithin the month they would be living in California.

Richie, for the first timein his life, couldn’t wait to be a country away from Eddie.

[affectionatehannibal]

the haunting of bill denbrough

prologue

George Denbrough had been dead five long years the night he woke his brother Bill up at one in the morning.

For just a moment, in the split second it took for Bill’s eyes to adjust to the darkness and remind his brain exactly where he was, Bill was thirteen again and Georgie was alive. Around that time of their lives, Georgie had woken Bill up quite often in the middle of the night, searching for somewhere safe from whatever lay waiting for him in the dark and someone brave and strong, someone like Bill, to protect him from it. Bill would make a scene- they were getting too old to sleep together, really- but they both knew sooner or later Bill would roll his eyes a final time and pull aside the covers, making room for Georgie to join him.

The Georgie that stood beside Bill’s bed now looked scared enough for this scenario to be true. His eyes, heavy with fear and wet with tears he seemed to be desperately trying to keep from spilling out, were wide against his pale skin. Bill had seen this look many times; it was the face of a child who has fallen off their bike unexpectedly and, by skinning their knee, suddenly realized that they are not invincible. Overall, Georgie’s expression was a familiar one. But there was something else in his face too, something that woke Bill up completely and increased the tempo of his heartbeat by a couple dozen beats.

Fear.  

Not any type of fear- not the kind that used to bring Georgie running to Bill’s room in the middle of the night, nor the kind that prompted Bill to check under his bed every now and then before bed, just to make sure nothing was hiding there. The fear in Georgie’s eyes was the kind that made a heavy nest in your stomach and stayed there forever, or as long as you had left to feel things, anyway. It was powerful enough to break your mind into tiny pieces. Bill had seen this fear reflected on the faces of his friends many times during the summer they’d delved deep into Derry’s sewer system. And he saw it written plainly across Georgie’s face now.

continue on ao3

Georgie’s eyes, wide and troubled, were filled with it. It was as though, if Bill looked really hard, he might see Georgie’s last memories reflected there. His last memories, ones of clowns and sewers and a brother who’d pretended to be sicker than he really was so he wouldn’t have to spend a second longer with his annoying, god-awful little sibling.

Bill shot up, heart pounding painfully in his chest. Reality took hold and screamed dead dead dead your fault into his ears. The real Georgie was miles below where Bill sat now, probably already rotted down to the bone, surrounded by the other dead children of Derry. Georgie was dead. This could be a dream, a hallucination, the aftereffects of the really shitty weed he’d shared with Beverly the day before, but it could not really be Georgie. And yet, some hopeful part of Bill’s heart begged for it to be real, one more chance to hold his brother. He frantically rubbed whatever sleep was left from his eyes, sure Georgie would be gone when he looked again with fresh eyes.

But Georgie stayed put, looking as frightened and pitiful as before.

God, Bill thought. I’d almost forgotten what he looked like.

And it really did look like Georgie, whatever stood beside Bill’s bed in a yellow raincoat and muddied jeans. He looked much smaller, much more fragile, than he had seemed to Bill in life, but, other than that, everything was the same. His eyes were deep and trusting, the same warm brown they’d been the day he’d died. His hair was light and mussed, almost like he’d forgotten to brush it. His mouth was turned downwards, like he was on the verge of crying. Georgie’s face, familiar and sad and trusting, pulled at the walls around Bill’s heart and threatened to overwhelm him with grief and guilt.

“Jesus,” he choked, vision blurry. He hadn’t cried in a very long time, and it was as though his tear ducts were trying to make up for lost time by producing as many tears as they possibly could. They made quick tracks down his cheeks, rolling off his face and onto his sheets. He wiped them away as best he could and reached towards his bedside table, careful not to touch whatever stood there borrowing his brother’s face, and turned on the lamp. He winced once as the lamp flooded the room with warmth and light, and once more when he saw Georgie’s face, no longer half-hidden by darkness. The light shone on the dark circles around his eyes, showed how sunken and bruised his features really were. His skin was a sickly, unhealthy color that reminded Bill of cigarette smoke and crummy gas station bathrooms.

“Oh,  jesus,” Bill’s voice was strangled, and he fought to keep sudden, panicked sobs from tearing their way out of his throat. “Georgie?”

The thing that might be Georgie slowly lifted a hand towards Bill in response, palm upwards as though asking for something.

“Holy-” Bill choked. He scrambled backwards, fighting to untangle himself from his sheets and blankets. He fell gracelessly off the bed, hitting his tailbone painfully on the hardwood floor.

Georgie was dead. Long, long dead. Whatever this was wasn’t here to crawl into Bill’s bed and complain that Bill’s feet were too cold, or be shushed by their parents for laughing too loudly so late at night. It was here to hurt, to taunt. To remind Bill of something that was, hopefully, as dead as Georgie.

Bill fumbled in the semi-darkness for the baseball bat he kept under his bed, hands exploring the dusty darkness frantically. After a few long moments he pulled it out and stood quickly, pointing it forcefully in the thing’s direction.

“We-we killed you,” Bill demanded, as though saying it was enough to make it true. It had been so long since he’d seen It in anything other than his nightmares; and now, looking at Georgie, he wondered for a quick moment why they’d been so scared of It all those years ago. Whatever stood by Bill’s bed did not ooze hate and evil and otherness like It did in his dreams. This thing was sad and lonely and afraid, but not evil. Still, what else could it be, if not It? “Y-y-y-y-you’re duh-duh-duh-duh-, we k-k-killed you!”

Georgie blinked slowly in reply.

“You’re s-s-s-supposed to buh-buh-be d-d-dead,” Bill coughed. He wiped away the snot that had started dripping and bubbling from his nose.

He heard his parents stir in the next room over at the same time his phone started ringing. His parents weren’t a problem; they wouldn’t come in to check on him if they woke up, and even if they did they wouldn’t be able to see whatever was standing by his ball. The phone call, on the other hand, managed to pry his attention away from whatever was impersonating his dead brother so perfectly. There were only six people in the world who might call him this late at night, and nothing would keep him from answering. 

---

Just a few blocks away, Richie Tozier was busy losing a match of Mario Tennis Aces.

It would have been embarrassing if anyone had been there to see it, but he was, thankfully, very much alone. He sat on the edge of his bed, wearing only a ratty pair of boxers and an extra-large t-shirt he’d found hidden in the back of Ben’s closet. The blue glow emanating from his TV screen was beginning to hurt his eyes; he took a quick swig of Mountain Dew to combat the discomfort.

Nighttime had never been kind to Richie; he blamed his current losing streak on that fact. Along with bad luck in digital tennis matches, nighttime brought sleep, and sleep brought nightmares. Amongst the Losers, nightmares were nothing new. It seemed that they were the price you paid to battle a demonic clown and escape unscathed. Overall, it was much easier to stay awake as late as possible and risk falling asleep in AP Bio for the umpteenth time than revisit his one and only trip through Derry’s sewer system every fucking time he closed his eyes.

He was just getting ready to give his remote control a quick good luck kiss before the next round began when a sudden, rapid banging on his window almost made him soil the only clean pair of boxers he had left.

“Holy shit,” Richie gasped. The contents of his stomach threatened to make a panicked appearance; Richie quickly choked them back down. The source of the noise knocked again, impatiently. Richie sighed, but a slow, easy smile made its way across his face. He leaned across his bed, stretching to open the window. He watched Stanley Uris crawl through it and smiled some more as Stan dusted himself off. “Gimme some warning next time, will ya? I almost shit my pants.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Stan mumbled. His shoulders, tense with something- Richie guessed anxiety- slowly relaxed the longer he stood in Richie’s room. Stan bent down to unit his shoes and take off his socks, placing them neatly against the wall. Richie watched him work in silence. It made his heart do summersaults in his chest to see Stan the way he was now- flushed from the bike ride over, hair tangled by sleep and wind, soft and warm in his flannel pajama pants and cotton t-shirt.

Stan said nothing when he was done, just stood quietly, solemnly considering the boy sitting before him. Richie gave him a moment to get whatever he needed from the silence between them and Stan soaked it up, slowly unclenching his jaw and shaking out the nerves that had settled in his fists.

Eventually, Stan sighed, slow and grateful, and Richie decided it was alright to speak. “What’s crackin’, baby doll?”

Stan grimaced. “Bad dream.”

“Same one?”

“Always the same.”

Richie hummed his displeasure and opened his arms, inviting Stanley to fill the space between them. Stan made his way towards them gratefully, crawling into Richie’s lap and leaning his head against Richie’s chest. Richie ran a hand through Stan’s hair, soft and gentle. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Maybe next time.”

Richie hummed again. Stan always said that, and so far they had never talked about it. “Want some Mountain Dew?”

Stan rolled his eyes, even though Richie couldn’t see his face. “No, thanks. But I’d take something stronger if you had it.”

Richie grinned and gave the top of Stan’s head a quick kiss. “I think I might have somethin’ like that,” he leaned across the bed, careful to keep Stan safely balanced in his lap, to grab his phone. “Let’s get Big Bill over here, while we’re at it.”

“No,” Stan snatched the phone from Richie’s hands and held it close to his chest. Sleep wasn’t something any of them could take lightly, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to steal a single second of it from Bill. “Don’t wake him up.”

“Come on, you know he hates missing out on stuff. He can always sleep once he gets here if he wants to.”

Their eyes locked and Richie grew suddenly seriously; a battle had begun. Stan figured they were too old to keep using staring contests to settle disputes. Richie said they were too old to let sacred traditions die so flippantly. In the end, they usually served Stan’s interests anyway; he could hold a glare with the best of ‘em. A few long moments passed; the air thick with concentration. And then Richie did what he usually did when he knew he couldn’t win- cheated.

Stan furiously blinked Richie’s sudden stream of warm, wet air out of his eyes. “I hate you,” he glared, hiding a grin, and held out the phone.

Richie laughed a happy, victorious laugh and gave Stan another kiss, this one on his forehead. Perhaps his nighttime losing streak was over at last; if this night was going anyway like he thought it was, he was going to get lucky two times over.

Pretty much everything about the three of them was built on luck. Luck, and a whole lot of hard fucking work. There were no guidebooks on how to date two of your best friends at once, no polyamorous trailblazers to show them the way. There was nothing, no one to tell them how to do this wonderful, lovely thing between the three of them. It was messy and hard sometimes, but god if it wasn’t good. All things considered, Richie thought they were doing pretty well for themselves.

He smiled softly and wildly into Stanley’s hair as he dialed Bill’s number.

---

Bill used the bat to keep at least three feet between him and Georgie as he walked slowly to the other side of the bed, towards the bedside table where his phone sat.

He struggled to pick it up, hands shaking, and cursed quietly when he almost hung up accidentally. “Huh-huh-ello?”

“Billy boy!” Richie sang, too excited to notice that Bill’s stutter, which normally took a siesta whenever he was talking to someone he loved, had returned full force. “Get your ass over here; we’re having an impromptu fiesta, just me, you, and-.”

“Ruh-ruh-ruh-ruh-Richie.” Bill interrupted. His body filled with relief at the sound of Richie’s voice, so much so that the bat almost slipped out of his hand. Here was someone who could understand, who might be able to help. He held his phone tight against his ear, as if doing so would transport him closer to Richie, away from whatever nightmare he was stuck in now.

Richie said something quick to someone that wasn’t Bill, his voice muffled and far-away. He sounded worried when he turned his attention back to Bill, like it had finally hit him that something wasn’t quite right. “Yeah, Bill, it’s me. What’s wrong?”

“I-I-I,” he stammered, eyes locked on his dead brother. “I-I th-th-th-think Guh-Guh-Georgie i-i-is in m-m-muuhhh-my r-r-room.”

“Fuck, Bill, I can hardly understand a word you’re saying. Did you-did you say something about Georgie?”

Bill flinched, like someone had just made as if to slap him. He hadn’t heard anyone say that name aloud in years. “H-h-h-h-h-h-hhhhh-,” he took a frantic breath, as if that would dislodge the word stuck in his throat. “Fuck, R-Richie, G-g-g-Georgie’s in m-my fucking ruh-uh-room.”

Richie said something else to whoever was in the room with him. They seemed to argue for a short moment which seemed impossibly long to Bill. “Hey, Bill? Don’t move. We’re on our way.”

The line went dead.

---

“Why did you hang up?” Stan spat, trying for the fifteenth time to reach Bill again. “He’s not picking up the phone.”

Despite being walking distance away from Bill’s house, they’d quickly decided to borrow (steal was a better word, as Richie was banned from driving it) Richie’s mother’s car. It whined loudly as Richie forced it faster and faster through the darkened streets toward Bill’s house.

“Chillax, Stanley,” Richie spat back, voice much less poisonous than Stan’s had been, obviously not chillaxing himself. He leaned forward in his seat, knuckles white around the wheel, as if worrying would help them get there faster. “Big Bill knows how to take care of himself. Whatever’s goin’ on, he’ll be alright.”

Stan shot a quick look of incredulous disbelief in Richie’s direction. It was the kind of look he usually saved for those students of Derry High with less common sense than a bucket of dying paint. It screamed: Are you an idiot? Stan himself screamed nothing and simply tried Bill’s number again.

No answer.

Richie urged the speedometer forward.

---

Already a few streets away, Bill Denbrough was busy ignoring the fact that he’d been told to stay put.

He’d made up his mind even before Richie had finished talking that he had to leave, to put as much distance between himself and whatever was in his room as possible. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand the look of fear and desperation on Georgie’s face, even if it wasn’t really Georgie he was looking at.

Georgie had followed as he’d stumbled out of the room, and Bill could see him now, standing in solemn silence at the end of their driveway. The absolute silence scared Bill more than anything else. In life, Georgie had been anything but silent. Contemplative, sometimes. But never quiet. Bill almost wished the thing that looked like Georgie would call after him, tell him to stop, something. But Georgie did nothing but watch him and Silver wobble unsteadily for a moment, his frightened gaze following Bill’s form as he made his way down the street.

Bill’s legs and arms knew where they were going before Bill did. Silver took them quickly to their destination, and Bill hopped off the seat before the bike had any time to slow down. He tripped over one of the wheels and fell to the concrete, Silver landing on top of him. He grunted in pain, loose gravel digging its way into the sides of his bare arms.

Bill looked up; he was on eye level with the sewer drain Georgie had spent his last moments crouched before. It did not mock or taunt or scream haha! I killed your brother! like Bill expected it to. It just sat, inconspicuously, like most sewer drains tended to do.

He pushed Silver off of him and scrambled forward. He braced himself against the concrete, poking his head into the sewer as far as the laws of mass and physical space would allow.

---

Stan and Richie were more surprised than they should have been to find Bill’s room empty.

Stan poked around the room methodically, looking for any evidence of what had happened, anything to clue them in on what was going on. Richie swallowed the shitty Sherlock Holmes joke working its way up his throat and fidgeted nervously in the doorway.

Stan picked up Bill’s phone, which sat on the bed, and frowned at it. “I don’t think he’s here.”

“I dunno, have you checked the bathroom? Maybe he’s taking a shit.”

Stan ignored him. “Where would he have gone? His truck’s still in the driveway.”

Bill’s truck was always in the driveway. He only ever used one thing to get where he wanted to go. Stan and Richie remembered this fact simultaneously.

“Oh, shit,” Riche groaned. “I’ll bet he’s halfway across the state by now.”

“No,” Stan shook his head. “He’d want to go somewhere. You said he saw Georgie, yes? What places do you think of when you think about Georgie?”

Simultaneously, Richie and Stan remembered something else. Remembered the last, rainy day George Denbrough had lived to see and the last place he had visited before his death.

They ran back to the car.

The overwhelming smell of rotting trash and stagnant water coming from the sewer drain made Bill want to gag. He turned his head to the side and took a quick whiff of fresh air before turning back to towards the opening.

“Wah-wah-wah-aht d-d-do y-you wuh-uh-want?” Bill shouted. “T-tell me!”

The drain did not grace his hurt and anger with an answer. Somewhere down the street, someone turned on a porch light.

Bill strained to see inside the sewer. He was so focused on making sense of the darkness he found there that he almost didn’t notice the light tug on his sweatshirt. His heart stopped dead in its track and he scrambled upwards to face his death, sure Pennywise himself had crawled from his hiding place to wipe the last of the Denbrough children off the face of the Earth. Instead of finding a killer clown, there stood the thing that looked like Georgie.

Georgie’s face was on fire with panic and fear. Blood streamed from beneath his right jacket-sleeve and down his hand, making soft splattering sounds on the asphalt. Bill’s heart ached, seeing Georgie’s face the way he was sure it must have been before It had killed him. He fell onto his knees and pulled the Georgie thing to him. Georgie felt as real as he looked- solid and firm. He even smelled a little like Georgie had too, like outdoors and the candles their mother liked to light on rainy days. Bill broke then, and sobbed painfully into Georgie’s small, cold chest. Georgie let himself be cried on and did not protest as Bill tightened his grip. He did nothing at all except look down at Bill’s head mournfully and continue drip drip dripping blood.

And this was how Stan and Richie happened upon the final third of their threesome, clutching onto nothing and sobbing endless, heart wrenching sobs.

And so began the haunting of Bill Denbrough.

[mrneighbourlove]

Fall of a Dynasty: Ch 6. Bad Blood Needs Let Going

It had been ages since the two of them had any time alone. The road back to a sense of normalcy was hard. Yet, the two of them had been determined to make things right to each other. And what better way than a little bit of love making? Over the years, Zizi learned that Kahli liked to get a bit rough here and there, but he had one little weakness... heels. He loved it when her legs appeared to go on for miles. So, she stood in front of the bed in nothing but a pair of blood red silhouettes.  

"Still desire me after all these years, love?"

Kahli needed time to adjust to being a physical lover to his wife after nearly tearing their relationship apart. Slowly, and carefully, he found his rhythm with her step by step. This morning, after feeding the kids, he had put Grievous and Urboro on farming duty outside to give the children a distraction. When Zizi stepped out with heels, he gave a friendly woo to her as he laid out spread on the bed with his shirt off.

“I never stopped.”

"At least the kids will be distracted for a while..." Zizi crawled onto the bed next to Kahli, lying on her stomach, legs up in the air, gently kicking back and forth. "And it's been some time since it was just me and you..."

“Indeed. You think you’re comfortable with me again?”

"Yes." Zizi replied, no hesitation. "I think we've mended ourselves this far to owe it to ourselves to try. Unless, you're not comfortable yet. I can wait."

“No. No more waiting. No more hesitation.” Kahli grasped her hands, gently kissing her fingers.

"How do you want me?" Zizi ran a hand down her cheek. "We'll just take this slow."

“Think I’ll start with those perky breasts.”

As soon as Kahli started to squeeze them and fondled the pair tenderly, an angry yell was heard outside from Grievous.

“Son of a- what now?”

If looks could kill... Zizi was irritated, horny, and ready to commit homicide. If Grievous had let the triplets sneak past her again, that new step-daughter of hers was going to be on laundry duty for an entire month. Growling under her breath, the Zemlja put on some normal clothes and prepared to face whatever fresh hell was downstairs.

"I swear, she claims to be sneaky but the triplets outsmart her each time..."

Grievous ran inside the house, her adrenaline having spiked. “Mother! Father! Zannah is here! She has Manaco with her!”

Outside, the portal closed behind the group. They opened up in the barn, and Athena and Grievous had never set foot in such a... simple area before. Zannah waved flashed a smile to a startled Grievous as she ran off to warn her parents.

“Children, welcome to Hyrule.”

Jaw agape as she looked out the window, Zizi then swore under her breath.

"Kahli, I know I promised you that I would not kill her, but I will put her in her place if she did something to our son!" She swung open the front door and noticed that the twins were here as well. What business did Griffith and Athena have here? Was there going to be a fight? Did something happen? "Grivy, get inside."

Grievous urged Urboro to rush to the other kids inside as well.

Both the adult twins looked around the property with curiosity as Zannah stepped forward. “Hello Zizi. I know it hasn’t been long since I first arrived, but events have transpired quickly, and we don’t have much time. However...” The ex-emperor pulled Athena and Manaco close. “My dear boy. Tell your mother the exciting news.”

Zizi felt her breath hitch in her throat.

"Manaco..." She gave her eldest son the nastiest glare she could. "If you knocked her up..."

"I didn't knock her up, by the spirits, why does everyone think that?!" Manaco protested, feeling a bit cowed by his mother. She could be really intimidating when she wanted. "We... meaning myself, Uncle Ralnor, Uncle Covarog, and uh... him..." The eldest child placed emphasis, indicating Bonegrinder. "Worked a deal to ensure that the Kikai Empire would be under Hylian territory and rules."

"Oh..." Zizi's face relaxed but still held suspicion. "Then why do you look so nervous?"

"Seeing that Uncle Covarog would never let one of his daughters marry to... uh... ensure future ties..." Manaco swallowed. Hard. "I volunteered."

".... WHAT?!?!" Zizi screeched so loud, the boy's ears rang.

Zannah made the motion of flicking wax from out of her ear as Zizi screeched like a banshee. “That’s right. Per our agreement to ensure the safety of my people being kept out of the hands of a tyrant, I’ve given up my position as Emperor. Effective immediately once the would-be usurper is dealt with, Athena and Manaco will be wed. They will become Empress Athena and Emperor Manaco of the Kikai Empire. I suppose that would make us family.”

The Earth Sage stilled and took a slow breath. She unclenched her jaw and loosened her shoulders. "... you're not the empress anymore?" Zizi calmly asked as she put back her hair. "You've given up... your throne? To them?"

“Fucking hell. It’s Emperor. Em-Per-Or. It’s been Emperor for a long while. I will go down as the Jade Rebuilder, Emperor of the Kikai Empire. Why do you people insist on calling me Empress even after I changed my title?” It honestly upset Zannah greatly. Taking a breath to compose herself, she nodded. “For the betterment of my children, my people, and for my love, yes. I’m one who can always make the hard sacrifices Zizi.”

"Good." Zizi made sure her hair was tight. "Now, I can do this."

For years, she had been planning the perfect strike. She even thought of potential places she could hide the body. Patience was a difficult game. Yet, she mastered it. And now, all that time waiting for finally pay off. Throwing all her magical energy into it, the Zemlja punched Zannah as hard as she could across the face.

Manaco, on the other hand, was horrified.

"MOM!!! NO!" He grabbed his mother before she could do anymore damage."Are you insane?!"

"I should be asking you that!!!" Zizi struggled in his grasp. "You're marrying into the family that nearly ripped ours apart?!"

Zannah was rocked, being flung backwards into a barn wall. Her head was spinning, and she felt her mind stop for second there. Was she bleeding? How did she not pick that up? Yes, she deserved that punch, but god damn, she wasn’t going to take it lying down. As soon as Zizi turned to Manaco, Zannah rocked forward with a sucker punch to Zizi’s jaw. Blue Ocho blood was trickling down her lip. She hadn’t fought in hand to hand combat in decades. Her blood was pumping, making her feel like a teenager again. “Come on. You can’t think that’s all you have in you, right?”

Athena was totally blindsided by the sudden violence. “Mother!? What are you doing? We need her!”

Griffith however, took a step back. “No. I think they need to work things out.”

Zizi managed to move Manaco aside by manipulating the ground under his feet, causing her son to stumble and lose his balance. This fight had been a long time coming and she was not going to let him get in the way of it. Though there was something different about Zannah now. The Zemlja could sense there was a lack of... fire? The spirits were finally giving her a moment in the sun!

"I have plenty more in me, but what about you?" Zizi baited Zannah, wanting to see if her hunch was true. "Something's... off about you."

Zannah kicked off her heels, cracking her neck and breathing slowly. “My War God deemed me a failure. He decided I was weak for valuing my citizens as more than tools and giving up additional power. So he took away my godly gifts. You won’t see me burn an ocean away any more, but I can still bend the element of fire and conjure electric energy. Honestly, it’s a little freeing. I can age with my lover, and I’m not burdened by high expectations anymore. But how about we keep this a magic free zone so I can plant my foot up your ass and teach you a lesson to not strike royalty.”

Zizi couldn't help it. The news shocked her, yes, but more than anything it delighted the Zemlja. She started... laughing. This was sweet and bitter justice served after all those years of torment! What better way to put Zannah in her place?! No power, no empire, no godly-given strength... she had nothing that she fought so hard to gain! She laughed so hard, she had tears in her eyes.

"Oh... oh, this is just wonderful!!!" Zizi tried to speak in-between giggles. "You know... I never thought that you would get what was coming. And now, you've... my spirits, I never thought I'd hear such news! I prayed for years that you would once feel that same pain I did, but this! This is so much better than anything I could have thought of!"

Zannah took the free opening and socked Zizi hard straight in the face. With a low rush, she threw a fist forward, sending the woman stumbling a little back. “Shut your mouth. Who do you think you’re laughing at you little punk?”

"I'm laughing at a brat who thought she was a deity, thought she was above everyone else, thought she could do as she pleased without any comeuppance, who thought she could hurt whoever the hell she pleased without any second glance, and who could not even save her own kids! Had to ask, who she once called friend, for help!" Zizi, despite being punched, was still snickering. "You know, there was a time that I thought so highly of you. A time I called you friend and treasured our time together. I wanted to help you rebuild what was dwindling. But now?" She took a breath. "I think now I will take the greatest pleasure knowing that you lost."

Vines shot forth out of the earth and restrained Zannah. Venu'sa, Zizi's oldest and rarest specimen, erupted from the earth. Over the years, Venu'sa's growth had gone through the majority of the land of Hyrule with multiple heads and roots. Nothing could kill the plant now. "And I... won."

“Of course you’d cheat.” Zannah struggled as Manaco advised the twins not to interfere. Thorns were digging into the woman’s skin, connecting like ticks and bleeding her out. “Yes, you've won. I’ve been a loser ever since Link held her blade to my throat. And now I’m going to continue to lose, despite my best efforts. I found out the man who is trying to take my Empire from me is my brother, resurrected by Exodrum. I have to kill him before he spreads war to other lands. You understand that Zizi? Although it is my responsibility to send him back to the underworld, I have to live with killing my blood. Now, how about you put me down, run along to your brother in law, and tell him to come back her with some fighters so I can pile on that shame as well.”

"... I think not." Zizi kept Zannah where she was, entangled in Venu'sa's vines. "If you want help from my sister's husband, then you can ask him yourself. Grovel. Beg. You're good at it." She then looked around, tapping her foot. "I keep expecting that robot of yours to come to your rescue, but since you're no longer the ruler, I suppose he'd be loyal to Athena next." The Earth Sage then looked at Zannah's daughter. "I have no qualms against you, Athena, nor you, Griffith. Though I will tell you right now, including your mother," She said with gritted teeth. "If any of you so much as harm one single hair on my son's head, I will personally shred you to bits, and then feed you to my plants. Dead bodies make excellent fertilizer. Am. I. Clear?"

Athena looked to Manaco, honestly terrified. “You want me to merry into this family? Have her put my mother down. I-I can’t watch this violence anymore.”

"... Mom... please..." Manaco hated the fact that Athena and himself were being dragged into the middle of this situation. Old wounds were hard to heal. He understood how deeply Zannah had hurt his mother. Yet, at some point, this had to stop. "I know you don't trust Zannah, and I know you don't like this situation. But something good can come out of this." He gently held Athena's hand. "I can do what Zannah could not with Athena at my side. You may not be able to forgive Zannah for what she did to our family, but... can you at least try to see that I want this? I've always adored Athena, I loved visiting the Empire when I was a child, and you taught me that sometimes, it's hard to love those who wronged us. Please... will you let this be a bygone? For me?"

"... you truly care for her?"

"Yes. And I believe in time, she may come to care for me as I do her."

"... I cannot forgive Zannah." Zizi tried to calm her anger. "But I do not want to hurt you. If this is what you wish... then I will do my best to be there for you and Athena."

“I don’t expect forgiveness from anyone Zizi. Now set me down for the sake of our children.”

Athena squeezed Manaco’s hand, warmed by his words and declaration of love to her. It was incredibly sweet.

"Venu'sa... release her." Zizi commanded the plant and the vines slowly withdrew into the earth. She still had that overwhelming urge to beat Zannah within an inch of life, but she held back. Manaco was more important to her. "... answer me this. Did the snake bind her to her word?"

"Yes, he did, Mom." Manaco assured his mother. "If she breaks it, then all the work will unravel."

“I’ve never broken a promise before. So you don’t need to worry.” Zannah had help from Griffith standing up, wincing from her thorn wounds. “Now stop being a bitch, pick yourself up, and go get Covarog.”

Zizi took a seat on her front porch in a rocking chair.

"No." The Zemlja undid her hair and started to apply some salve on her knuckles. She hit Zannah so hard, she knocked the skin clear off. "You want something, you go get it. I'm never will, never have, taken orders from you. If you think you're in such good graces, go ask my sister and her husband. I am no warmonger."

“Oh piss off. I hope I took away your final years to have proper sex with your husband.” Zannah turned, limping to go lie down in the barn where Bonegrinder rested. “Griffith. Head to Hyrule Castle. Tell Covarog to gather a strike force.”

“Yes mother.” Griffith begrudgingly accepted the order.

"Least I get to have sex whenever I want." Zizi retorted as Zannah hobbled away. She winced slightly as the salve stung like hell, but finished tending to her knuckles. "I'd ask my sister if you want any fair chance, Griffy. You might need to take Athena and Manaco for good measure. As much as he dislikes your mother, he'll have a hard time saying no to his nephew."

"Mooom..." Manaco felt a touch embarrassed. "I'm not a kid anymore, Uncle Covarog isn't going to hand me whatever I please."

"Act like a kid, be treated like one. Especially not telling your mother about your intentions toward a young girl." She flicked her hand. "Go on now."

“As you say.” As the younger adults left, Zannah struggled picking herself up to rest peacefully atop the barn’s upper stable. “Are you still here snake?”

Bonegrinder was currently helping himself to a bucket full of cherries, lounging on stacked barrels of hay.

"He has to keep an eye on his investments, green lady. If angry, little plant mom back there killed you, he would have lost a good deal."

“Angry plant bitch knows nothing of sacrifice. Nothing of survival in the face of ungodly odds. Nothing of being a leader. Not like me. And I suspect, not like you.” Zannah sighed, still wincing from her thorn wounds. “Tell me. I feel like I know you. Your voice is so familiar. Do you live in Hyrule’s sewer system?”

"You assume to know as much about plant mom as she knows about you." Bonegrinder finished the cherries and tossed the bucket aside. "Assuming can make one an ass, green lady. Be careful not to do so. If you think you know your enemy, then you must know they are already three steps ahead. The question is, however, can you or can you not outsmart your foe? You must think like them in order to know them. And unfortunately, your enemy is going to have the title of mother-in-law... so you cannot continue to press her unless you wish to risk the union between her son and your daughter." At her question, he chuckled, "He lives in the catacombs, in Omisha, and once upon a time, in the clouds... with his children. His beautiful children."

“I heard singing when I escaped imprisonment during the war. Was it not you I heard? Or just other spirits plaguing Hyrule?”

Zannah blinked, then suddenly laughed lightly. “So it was you.”

"You were just a wee thing, then." Bonegrinder told Zannah. "He heard you, scuffling about in his territory. Tempted, yes, so tempted to add you to his group of children. Yet, he could not risk the pig king snooping around in his catacombs."

“Ganondorf is a terrifying man isn’t he? Can’t imagine he’d be kind to you. He wasn’t kind to me or my brothers.” Zannah groaned, contemplating the near future. “How the hell am I supposed to even come close to patching things up with that witch?”

"The pig king is old now, and Bonegrinder has no need to fear another host for a deity." The Anagari thought back over the centuries. "He has seen the pig and the beautiful light fight for what seems like eons with the hero sometimes in the middle of it all, sometimes too late, and sometimes too early. Theirs is a fine example of why you should not anger the supernaturals." The snake then chuckled. "Trying to think of a solution to your problem, green lady? The plant mom, yes, is angry for sure. Though, you are missing the underlying issue here."

“Oh tell me your wise council then.” Zannah cursed as she pulled a loose thorn out of her leg.

"All you see is the anger, green lady." Bonegrinder reminded her. "You fail to see the hurt. This snake can even see from here that the plant mom trusted you when she does not give such trust easily. To break such a fragile thing, one wonders if it could ever be repaired." He used his tail to pluck a leaf from Zannah's hair. "Even this old snake knows that true friendships are difficult to find and he has lived for a very, very long time."

Zannah grew quiet, grasping her knees as she pulled them closer. She didn’t know that Zizi herself was listening nearby, still not trusting Zannah.

“Of course all I know is anger. My father raised me to be a warrior. I never got to know love in my family. The only friend I made was that with my twin brother. But that wasn’t friendship. We fought and trained together, and we were taught being dominate over others was the ultimate way to life. How did that end for him? I had to watch him scream my name for help as he was decapitated by the demon king. And what did my father do? He treated it like it was my failure. He made me believe the lashing I took was deserved. Then when my elder brother became consumed by Exodrum’s gift, he touched me... he told me once the war was over I’d be the only one to carry on the line. He became so corrupt and vile he didn’t see me as a sister anymore... he too would die. Ganondorf only spared me because Rinku asked it, but even then he had me beg. He made me beg harder than I ever had before, even to Zizi.” Zannah took another thorn and pulled it out of her body.

“So then, as a teenager and the last heir to the throne, I had to become Emperor. Not an Empress who would be wed off. I had to take the title of a man with pride. I wasn’t allowed to be weak. I wasn’t allowed to make friends. My most trust worthy advisor became a cold hearted machine. That was my young adult hood. I had to acquire the power that drove my brother mad just to give my people hope. Then a bunch of old men blackmailed me into having children. I had to, otherwise I’d let the Empire fall to corrupt, war mongering men from my fathers era. What else could I do? What else could I do but scheme and gather power? My anger is all I know. It fueled me, it fed me, it helped me rise up. And god, in my dreams, I listened to my god. I could hear the damned cries of my brothers telling me not to fall to weakness. That friends were a weakness. I would not become the weak link that tore the Empire apart. I would not bring the Genocide of the Hasai people. My people. I thought... I thought Zizi and Kahli would understand. I thought I was doing a good thing by reviving the Waku Tribes. But I don’t know anymore. I don’t even know if I can say my head is clear now. I don’t know if it’s ever been clear. Am I just a natural psychopath, or was I simply never given the chance to be normal? I envy Rinku and Zizi. They got to have loving families. I got drafted into war. Perhaps I never left that battlefield.... oh god.” Zannah suddenly sounded sad, realizing the big secret. “I’m never got to be human. I’ve always been a warrior. I’ve always been a monster. Bonegrinder, I have to kill my brother. That’s something I feel has to be done. I haven’t given it any other thought. How monstrous is that?”

"You are not the only one with strife, pain, and misery in your past. He knows that your suffering has been great, and yes, it is true that you have never had the chance to be just... you. Simply you. Not a ruler, not a warrior... just another soul walking on this earth. Anger and hate can consume you and consume you it did. Though now, you have a second chance and how you take it, how you spend it, will set forth the motion for your future. Your children's future. Your grandchildren's future.." Bonegrinder listened to Zannah. "However, your suffering is not an excuse for you justifying the need to hurt others, to use them." He asked the woman. "Bonegrinder is an Anagari, an Echidnan... the very definition of what humans call 'monster'. His children much so too. Yet, his people have never once declared war on humans despite the hate, the fear, and the anger suffered through centuries of common, everyday people... do you know why?"

“Why?”

"For every human out there who deems us monsters, there is one who views us in a different light." Bonegrinder did not name names, but thought of Leere. "We cannot judge the whole by the actions of a few, green lady. Perhaps that is where you went wrong. So focused on others judging you, having to be the strongest, the best, never fail... that you forgot that it is human to be weak, to admit it, ask for help, and need a friend to help you stand."

“No. I’m a lost cause. I’m grateful I taught my children to be better, but I’m different. I have no friends. I’ll never have friends... I don’t deserve friends.” Zannah looked up to a hole in the roof, dangling an arm off the side and she lied on her back. “Zizi’s right. I’m a loser. But I lost life long, long, long before meeting her.”

"This old snake doesn't necessarily think that plant mom believes you are a loser, per se... he believes that she thinks you are lost." Bonegrinder then asked Zannah.

"One cannot mend a friendship unless one tries, green lady. For your daughter's sake, he suggests you attempt it at least. Lest, you risk losing her as well."

“I don’t know how. I just don’t know how. How can I? How can I even begin to?”

"There is nothing wrong with a sincere, heartfelt apology, is there?" Bonegrinder questioned the woman. "Think of it this way, green lady... you treasure your blondie queen. Imagine for a moment, this situation is reversed, and plant mom used your blondie queen for her benefit. Would you not feel betrayed? Hurt? By someone who you deemed a friend?" He then added, "Plant mom did not only have her family shaken, green lady... she also lost you. Someone she came to care for."

“What? There’s no way that’ll work. She hates me.”

"Have you tried it? You shall never know unless you do." Bonegrinder reminded Zannah. "If you wish to human... this is a start."

Zannah looked at her hands, clenching and opening them one beat at a time. “Alright. Zizi Slatki. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not recognizing how much of a monster I was towards you and your husband. I’m sorry for not recognizing how deeply you valued our friendship. I’m sorry I was too selfish to see how I hurt you. I don’t have friends... I don’t think I know what friendship looked like until it punched me in the face. I’m sorry.” Zannah’s genuine practice speech reached the Zemalji’s ears. Once done, she turned to Bonegrinder. “Is that what being human sounds like?”

"Yes, green lady... that is exactly what human sounds like. It's hard, it's messy, and it's heartbreaking... but one wondrous thing about humans is that no matter how many times something is broken..." Bonegrinder softly tapped Zannah on her shoulder. "Somehow, they manage to find a way to fix it."

“Hmmm. We’ll see.”

________________________________________________________________

Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/614857600919568384/fall-of-a-dynasty-ch-5-god-of-war

Next Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/621742371644850176/fall-of-a-dynasty-ch-7-first-steps

Crossover with @ridersoftheapocalypse

[fluffy-marshmallow-heart]

Ride or Die ch.15 -Dead End

Colt's POV of chapter 15, when MC crashed her car

Colt x MC (Ellie)

Words: 3557

Warnings: NSFW

This was requested by @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction 

Colt had spent all day looking for Toby and Ximena, finally finding them and filling them in on what’s been happening. He told them about the plan Ellie came up with, capturing the Brotherhood on video.

“I’m hoping they’ll be too distracted by my attempting to catch them on camera that they won’t even notice there are others. “I bought a burner phone specifically for this, so it really doesn’t matter if anything happens to it.”

“Wow, that…could actually work.” Toby told him

A flash of pride rippled through Colt. That’s because my girl is smart.

  After telling them what they need to do, where they need to be, and at what time, they parted ways. I hope Ellie’s right and they pull through.

Colt rode his bike to a random small house in South Central, roaring into the quiet neighborhood, parking behind Ellie’s pink car.

Pink. She had to have pink. So noticeable, so girly girl, so…Ellie.

He gets off his bike and saunters over to where Ellie is standing with Logan. Fucking Logan.

“Is it done?” She asked

Cold nodded. “Green light. We’re just waiting for a call sometime tonight.”

“You’re sure?” Logan had his eyes narrowed, looking at Colt accusingly.

Anger bubbled up inside him. “Yes, I’m sure, you…”

“Guys, we’re on the same side, remember?” Ellie cut in, glaring at the both.

Colt sighed, running a hand through his hair. Fine.

Logan looked at her apologetically. “Let’s just get inside.”

Colt takes Ellie’s hand and holds her back as Logan walks ahead. “Hey, look…I stopped by the old garage earlier, to try to find some things. Anything, really, to remind me of my family’s legacy. And I found this. I guess my pop kept it from my first car. He had it in his desk. And now, well, no place for it on my bike, so…I figure you might as well have it, if you want.”

He hesitantly holds out a little cactus bobble head, complete with a mustache and sombrero. Please don’t laugh. I know it’s lame. I was a kid when I got it and thought it was cool. Something prickly just like me.

“Colt…thank you.” She smiled warmly at him, and butterflies erupted in his stomach.

He shrugged casually. “It’s nothing. Just a trinket, but…maybe it’ll bring you some luck.”

Taking her hand again, they follow Logan up to the door. He knocked, and a moment later the door swings open to reveal some food truck guy Colt had seen around every now and then.

“Logan! It’s been a minute, cuz.” He steps forward to give Logan a hug but stops short when he sees his expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Can we lay low out here for the day?” Logan asked.

“Course. Come in.”

The guy leads them inside. He takes in Ellie’s prom dress. “You wanna tell me what’s goin on?”

Mother fucker better not be checking her out ever again. I’ll forgive the dress, because it’s odd she’s still in it, but next time…

“The less you know, the better.” Logan informed.

“You at least gonna tell me who this dude is?” He points to Colt, and he fists his hands, agitated. Seriously?

“That’s Kaneko’s kid. And you remember Ellie.”

Kaneko’s kid?? I have a name!!!

“Colt.” He said flatly.

“Hey, Vaughn. Sorry for intruding.” Ellie shot him a Look, and he shrugged slightly. Whatever, it’s my name.

“Nah, it’s cool. Get comfy, change outta those threads…”

“Thanks. We’ve got some planning to do.”

“Well, hang on just one second. You can stay here, but I need something in return.”

Naturally

Logan’s face fell. “You do?”

Vaughn turns away, walking to the kitchen counter. “You might be my cousin, but nothing in life is free. You gotta do me a favor.”

“What?” Logan asked hesitantly.

“You gotta taste test my new dishes for my truck.” He turns back around with a tray of fresh, eclectic street food.

Logan grinned. “I think we can manage that just fine…”

Colt’s mouth immediately started watering, and as they discussed their plan, they scarfed down amazing food.

Hours later, the sun sets outside, and the showdown with the Brotherhood draws nearer. After planning every last detail of the night, the four of them are passing time half-watching TV in Vaughn’s living room.

Ellie keeps looking at the clock. Logan nudges her. “There’s nothing we can do but wait.”

Colt slid his eyes over to her. She looks just as nervous as I feel. I need an outlet. We both do.

Ellie gave a half smile. “I know, I just…I feel like I need to do something now. Get all this anxious energy out so it doesn’t distract me later.”

“I know how you feel.” Colt clenches and unclenches his fist, over and over and over again.

“You can lie down in my spare room for a bit, Ellie.” Vaughn offered.

Right. Mr. Nice Guy. No wonder Logan brought us here.

“Thanks, Vaughn. I think that’ll help.”

“We’ll get you when it’s time.” Logan assured.

She nods, the heads toward the hall, she pauses in the doorway, looking back at them. Colt catches her eye from across the room.

Come on, Ellie, bring me with you, I know exactly how to get out all our frustrations.

“Colt, could I talk to you for a minute?” She asked.

Yesssss. Shove it, Logan. She wants to fuck me, not you. I win.

Colt shrugs, not showing his excitement, and follows her down the hall to the bedroom. He closes the door behind them, then leans against it casually. “Did you actually want to talk, or…?”

“No.” Ellie wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him into a passionate kiss. He pulls back to smirk. “Not even dirty talk?”

“Colt!” She slaps his shoulder playfully, but then he captures her mouth with his. Their embrace is heated, insistent. He walks her back toward the bed, his hands running all over her body, under her clothes…

“Colt…”

He can feel his kisses make her dizzy, his touch alone sets her on fire. Something tells him they’re both barely on the edge of control.

This feeling…what is this feeling….it feels like…I can’t control myself around this woman, I need to consume her. She’s mine and I’m hers and this is forever.

“Ellie, what’re you doing to me?”

“Hopefully making you feel really, really good.”

He groans into her mouth, pulling her flush against his hard body. “Yes…Can you feel how good you make me feel?”

He thrusts his hips into her, letting her feel how hard he is. He wants to plunge his cock inside her. His lips travel down her neck, nipping and licking at her exposed skin. His hands slide under her sweatshirt, and she arches into him.

“Colt…take it off” She says breathlessly.

As you wish. He doesn’t need to be asked twice. He quickly pulls her sweatshirt over her head, then unbuttons her jeans and pushes them down her hips, and she quickly shakes them off. He pulls her back into his arms, her bare skin rubbing against his still-clothed body.

“Not…fair…” She moans as he caresses every inch of her exposed skin.

He licked his lips, unable to stop the smile appearing on his lips. “If you want me outta my clothes, all you gotta do is ask.”

She tugs on his leather jacket, pulling it off one shoulder. “Off. Now.”

Colt pulls back to take off his clothes, throwing them haphazardly across the room. “Better?”

“Much.”

The two of them settle back on the bed together. He pulls her in for another searing kiss, his body flush against hers. He squeezes her ass and knows exactly how he wants her.

“Don’t stop” She begged.

“Wasn’t planning to. Come here.” He nudges her onto all fours, facing away from him. He kisses her spine, making her shiver

“Colt stop teasing…”

“But I love when you moan my name.”  And now you’re gonna fucking scream it.

He glides his hands down to her hips with a featherlight touch, a whimper escaping her mouth, then guides himself into her tight, wet slit. He grunted as he began to thrust in and out of her, his need for her consuming them both as she puts a hand on the headboard to steady herself as he moves faster and faster.

“Colt..oh, god…”

So fucking tight. So fucking perfect, This body…I love this body, she feels so good wrapped around my dick. Where the fuck has she been my whole life?

He can no longer contain himself. He swivels his hips just so, pulling on her hair so she leans more backwards and together they fall apart. He shot his hot sperm into her as her sweet pussy drank it up, milking him completely. The two of them collapse on the bed together, a tangle of sweaty limbs.

She snuggled into his arms and he kissed the top of her head gently. After a few minutes, they caught their breaths.

“We’re gonna have to do this soon, aren’t we?” She whispered into his chest.

Colt runs his hands up and down her arm in a soothing pattern. “Whatever the Brotherhood throws at us, we’re ready.”

She flips over to face him. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

He runs his thumb over her cheek, gazing deep into her eyes. “Only if you promise me the same thing.”

I know you. You’re just like me. Both of us do what needs to be done.

She sighed. “…This whole plan is kinda stupid, isn’t it?”

He kisses her forehead. “Maybe, but it’s the best we’ve got.”

Logan knocks. “We got the call. We’re in. It’s go time.”

Colt kisses her one last time before getting up and pulling on his clothes. “I’ll let you get ready.” She just nods, and he leaves the room.

Joining Logan and Vaughn in the living room, both men were giving him death stares. Alright. Guess Logan told Vaughn I stole her away from him. Which I did, so…fuck off losers.

Steps sound in the hallway and they all look up to see her.

“Oh, damn.” Vaughn’s eyes were wide.

“I’m ready.” She announced.

“You sure look like it. Logan’s jaw was practically on the floor.

Colt eyes her ravenously, soaking in her appearance. He really likes the red leather coat. “I already feel better about our chances.” You look bangin’.

Logan tosses her her keys and she catches them out of the air. “Let’s go.” She pulls out her phone, powering it on for the first time in a while…and dial a number. She presses speakerphone, so they can all hear.

“9-1-1 emergency, what is your location?”

“My name is Ellie Wheeler. I want to turn myself in.” There’s silence on the other end for a moment.

“Alright, what is your location Miss Wheeler? We’ll send someone to come pick you up.”

“There’s only one person I’ll speak to. Detective Wheeler. Have him meet me at the Pacific Division station. I’ll be there soon.”

“Miss, if there’s…”

She hangs up the phone. “Clock’s running.”

They all walk outside to where her car is parked at the curb.

Logan grabs her hands. “You’re sure I can’t convince you to let me go in your place?”

She shook her head. “No. It has to be me.”

Logan’s shoulders slump a little. “I know…but a guy can hope. Just…if anything goes wrong, Ellie, look out for yourself. Run.”

Colt watches from a short distance, arms tensely folded. He just gives her a nod when she looks his way. Yes. Run, and I’ll find you to live out our lives. I promise, Ellie.

“Well. See you on the other side.” She gets into her car, shutting the door. Colt sees her put his old cactus on her dash and his heart feels like it’s going to explode of happiness…until she turns the engine on and drives out into the moonless night up the 405 toward Mar Vista.

His heart sinks as he climbs on his bike and heads for his location. Hardly any time passed when his earpiece went off, Ellie’s voice coming through.

“Logan? Colt? We’ve hooked them. They’re coming up fast in the cars we stole for them off the hauler truck.”

Logan’s voice sounds through next. “Already? Damn, they’re quicker than we thought.”

Colt narrows his eyes in frustration. “It’s too early! They’re gonna catch you before you get to the target! Step on it!”

“They’re almost on me!”

“You’re still a ways out. Hang on. I’ll be there as soon as I can!” Logan shouts into his Bluetooth.

Right. Knight in shining fucking armor. Ugh.

“Hurry up, Logan.” He spat out. “You better not let anything happen to her.”

“I got it, Colt.”

As Colt reaches his destination, he sees her rocket forward, the two cars that were at her side crashing into each other and sending debris flying.

Oh my god…my pop…he trusted her with a NOS system?? He taught her how to use it?? His heart ached at the realization of exactly how much his father cared for her and looked out for her…all because his son did.

Thanks pop. I had no idea. Thank you for keeping her safe.

She dodges another car back and forth across the lanes, barely staying out of reach.

“You’re almost there, Ellie!” He shouts into his speaker.

Come on, come on, you’re gonna make it! Just a couple more miles!

Colt whips out his burner phone and sets it up to record. He hears bare metal and looks back up, gasping. He felt like he was watching everything unfold in slow motion.

Ellie’s car stalls as her tire blows out, sending sparks flying against the pavement. Another car slams into her, sending her spinning.

“Ellie! Can you hear me? I’ll be there in a few seconds! One last go for old times’ sake?” Logan pleaded.

“One last go” It was barely a whisper, but Colt still heard it.

Ellie dodges hard to the side as Logan turns on his high beams directly in front of the Brotherhood cars.

“Ellie, go! I’ll catch up!”

“Hurry! You’re at the off-ramp!” Colt added.

She steps on the gas. “I’m almost there! I can make it…”

One of the cars in pursuit flies ahead of her and skids to a stop, blocking the exit ramp.

His heart began pounding erratically. This is looking…familiar.

Flashes of his father speeding towards the barricade and crashing his car to save the crew, to save him, swam through his head. He felt sick. She’s doing the same thing. Oh my god, please no.  

“Dammit! Okay, just stay on the freeway, Ellie!” He could hear his voice but it didn’t sound like his own. It sounded a bit higher, panicked…fearful.

“Colt, I have to get there! If I don’t, all of this was for nothing…” She argued

Colt shook his head violently, his breaths coming faster and his head starting to spin.  “There’s gotta be another way.”

“No. This is where I get off.” She said, fury and determination evident in her tone

She floors it straight towards the stopped car, while Colt fell to his knees, bile rising in his throat, shock overtaking him. No, no, no…NO!!!!! NOT AGAIN!!!! THIS CAN’T HAPPEN TO ME AGAIN!!!!

He screamed, yet there was no sound. He didn’t feel attached to his body anymore. He was with his father, whom he didn’t even think loved him and yet gave his life to keep him safe. He was with Ellie, whom he had found love himself and loved him back…and was about to give her life to keep him safe. And he was completely helpless to stop either one of them. For the very first time in his life, he was terrified of losing someone he loves. He never had to think about it before his father died.

Like a missile, she crashes into the car, knocking it aside.

“Ellie!” Logan cried.

Her airbag deploys as gravity abandons her. She goes airborne off the ramp, spinning like a top. She slams down on the pavement of a wide, empty lot fifteen feet down. Colt could practically feel the metal crumpling and denting, unable to handle the impact. Her momentum sends her rolling several times until finally coming to a rest on the car’s roof.

Colt gaped at the heavily damaged car, the glass broken and scattered in all directions.

Oh my god, Ellie, what did you do?? You can’t…I don’t believe…you have to be okay. You’re all I’ve got left

Slowly he realized he was shaking uncontrollably, the phone in his hands had already dropped to the ground, his face the only thing on the screen. He became vaguely aware of Logan’s voice in his ear.

“Ellie! Ellie, can you hear me?”

A weak cough responded. “yeah…I made it to the target”

Oh my god, she’s alive. She made it. She FUCKING MADE IT!!!! MY GIRL MADE IT!!!!

“That was absolutely insane!” He finally found his voice. SHE FUCKING MADE IT!!! SHE’S ALIVE!!!

“Colt, are you in position?”

Taking several deep breaths to slow his still racing heart, he answered. “Ready and waiting by the transformer box. They’re coming up on you now.”

“Okay…*cough*…make sure to get their faces on camera.”

But she sounds so weak. She must be hurt. No has that kind of accident without getting hurt. Not even someone as crazy as her.

Headlights approach and the cars stop, doors opening, masked figures approaching the destroyed car. One of them offers her a hand helps her crawl through the shattered glass.

Jason.

Jason’s helping her to her feet when Logan approaches. Jason draws a gun, putting the muzzle to Ellie’s temple just as Logan comes around the bend. He slams on the brakes, skidding to a stop ten feet away, bathing them in his headlights. Jason’s form casts a long shadow across the lot.

She survived the crash just to take a bullet to the head? I don’t think so. We’ve come too far. Time to end this. Without thinking, Colt started marching forward, ready to kill the Brotherhood. He’s blind with rage, not seeing the woman deftly approaching him.

“Nice phone.” She snarled, snatching it away and wrenching his arms behind his back in a hold.

“Thanks. It’s insured.” He snapped back. FUCK!!!

A walkie-talkie crackled at the woman’s side.

“Hester, it’s Shaw. You find Kaneko’s kid?”

“Bringing him in now.” The lady spoke back.

“I have a fucking name, and it’s not ‘Kaneko’s kid’.” Everyone calling me Kaneko’s kid. I’m not my father, and I never will be.

Crossing the lot, Hester pushes Colt along at gunpoint. “I really don’t care.” She replied, sounding bored. She calls out to Jason. “Caught him over there trying to film us on this.” She tosses Colt’s phone onto the ground and shoots it. It shatters and sparks.

“Trying to get us on tape, huh? Get us locked up? Oh, so close.” Jason teased menacingly.

 “Good thing we wore masks. You would’ve had nothing, anyway.” The Brotherhood then peel off their masks.

“But how…did you know?” Ellie asked, her voice feigning disbelief.

Jason smirked, shaking his head. “Ellie…come on…we tapped your phone. Duh. We’re the goddamn police. I thought you would’ve figured that out by now.” He laughed.

“We heard you call 911…we heard you tell Kaneko’s kid what to do, where to be.”

“Colt!” He couldn’t stop himself, the words just slipped out angrily.

Jason rolls his eyes and steps closer to Ellie, the barrel of his gun just inches away from her head. “It’s actually kind of tragic. I thought you would’ve made a good cop, Ellie…but I was wrong. A cop always needs to think one step ahead. And now…now your dad will never know what happened to you.” He aims the gun at her, his face neutral.

“You said you didn’t want to hurt her.”

Mona. Traitor. Never trusted her.

Jason frowned. “I didn’t. But she didn’t learn her lesson. You should know, Ellie, I take no pleasure in this. We really were never that different.”

A slow smile spread on Ellie’s face. “Oh, really? I think we are.”

“How’s that?”

“The difference between you and me? Well, for one, I’m not the dumbass who just walked right into a trap.”

She really is going to be okay. There’s that snarky tone I love so much. Colt let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding.

“What is she talking about?” Wallace asks nervously.

Jason looks around, anxiousness spreading on his face. He looks far across the lot…to the façade of Mar Vista High, and the dozens of CCTV cameras on the streetlamps.

“Say cheese, asshole.” Logan grinned.

Jason’s eyes went wide. “No…”

Gotcha   “Go ahead. Wave to Toby and Ximena.”

Inside the school’s AV club, Ximena grins, her voice ringing loud and clear in the parking lot. “We got ‘em”

“In crystal clear high definition.” Toby agreed.

“Shaw…what just happened?” Hester’s voice raised a few octaves.

“I…”

“Always gotta stay one step ahead, isn’t that right, Jason?” Ellie asked sweetly, winking at Colt. He smiled at her before directing his gaze back at Jason and the other two members of the brotherhood.

That’s right asshole. No one messes with my crew.

  @annekebbphotography @gardeningourmet @zigortega4life @eileendannie @thequeenofcronuts @drakewalkerfantasy @friedherringclodthing @coffeebeandragon @drakewalker04 @alesana45 @mfackenthal

@i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction

@rhymesmenagerie

[trash-the-tozier]

any mike ship + any bleachers song pls

I love everything about this ask, thank you so muchI went with Everybody Lost Somebody, and I wrote some hanbrough because I’ve been feeling the hanbrough lately and there is not nearly enough of it!! gotta be the change you want to see in the world ya knowwarnings: explicit language, references to underage drinking, past minor character death (references to georgie)~1800 words | ao3send me a song and a ship and I’ll write a drabble based on them

"Alright, Big Bill." Richie slings an arm around Bill's shoulders. "You. Me. Eds." He points at his boyfriend. "Bev, Stan, Mike." He continues to gesture around Mike's living room, to all the other Losers sitting around. When he gets to Ben, he winks. "And Benny Boy! Tonight. My place."

"...why did you say us all individually?" Stan asks, but Richie ignores him.

"My parents are out this weekend, and you know what that means."

"Just spit it out, Richie." Beverly requests, Richie waggling his eyebrows.

"Party!" He declares, and the whole group groans. Bill slips out from under Richie's arm, who looks slightly bewildered. "What?" He asks.

"No, we're in. Your parents just have a terrible taste in alcohol." Mike says, a few of them nodding along to his words. Richie gives them all a disbelieving look.

"We're seventeen. We don't even have a taste in alcohol." He insists. "But we're all in?"

Nods around the room for a moment, everyone's head turning to Bill when he speaks.

"No." Then, a little quieter. "Sorry."

"Bill! Come on!" Richie tries to tuck Bill under his arm again, but he side steps. "It won't be fun without you."  

"I'm sure it will."  

"Why don't you want to hang out with us?" Richie demands. "You keep blowing us off. This whole month, you've just--" Mike's attention turns exclusively on Bill, all but tuning Richie out as he notices something. Bill's eyes are down, one hand clamped tightly over the opposite wrist. Something is wrong.

He wracks his brain, trying to think of something; anything. He has noticed that Bill has been slightly more reserved lately, more withdrawn, but it didn't ever seem enough to worry about, always dismissed with a smile and an easy "I'm fine" when Mike asked if he was alright. It's early spring, summer just around the corner, the weather already growing warm. It's Mike's favorite time of year, of opening flowers and light rainstorms, but Bill looks ready to either cry or rip at his own skin. Maybe both.

"--and then you'll be sitting on a mountain with a six foot beard wondering why you never listened to your good ol' friend Richie Tozier."

"R-R-Rich--"

"I'm not taking no for an answer."

"Richie, shut up." The whole room is watching the argument, and Stan speaks up suddenly, his voice sharp, his face white. "Just shut the fuck up."

"No Stan. We need to save Bill before he--"

"Maybe I don't want you to s-s-save me." Bill says, his eyes finally lifting, and Richie takes a step back. "Fucking--"

"Bill--" Stan tries, Richie reaching out a hand to his friend, but before either can do anything Bill is out of the room, his footsteps loud and fast against the old wooden floors. Beverly gets to her feet too, concern all over her face, Ben looking scared.

"What's wrong with him?" Eddie asks, his voice quick with worry, and Stan rounds on Richie, looking furious.

"You fucking insensitive asshole--"

"Could you tell me what I did wrong before you rip my head off?" Richie cuts him off, his voice loud and defensive. Stan purses his lips for a moment, and the words come out almost in a whisper.

"Georgie's birthday is tomorrow."

"Oh." Richie's voice falls soft too, and it feels as though an ice cube just landed, heavy and frozen, into Mike's stomach. "Fuck. It's... It's been three years, I didn't even..."

Beverly is out of the room now, following after Bill, and Stan runs a rough hand through his hair.

"I'd forgotten too. Maybe next time I tell you to shut up, you'll listen."

Beverly comes back, her face contorted in distress.

"He's in the bathroom. He locked the door; he didn't respond when I tried to knock. We can't... We can't just leave him in there."

"I'll handle it." Mike says, feeling strangely nervous as he walks down the hallway. He retrieves the bathroom key from the top of the door frame, and knocks lightly on the old wood, leaning close.

"Bill? It's Mike. Can I come in?"

No response.

"I'm going to open the door, alright?"

Still nothing, Mike unlocking the door with a click and pushing it open, holding his breath in his chest as he steps inside. Bill is sitting on the edge of the bathtub, curled in on himself, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Mike closes the door behind himself. Bill's entire body is quivering.

"I hate this." Bill says after a long moment of quiet, his soft voice making the words sounds wretched and pained, and Mike feels his heart break. "I fucking hate this."

Mike reaches out to touch his shoulder, but as soon as his hand makes contact with Bill's shirt he flinches harshly, and Mike withdraws quickly.

"I fucking hate this." Bill says again, finally lifting his head, his eyes watery but sharp, his hands clenched into fists.

"I'm sorry." Mike says, for a lack of anything else, and Bill shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. A few tears escape his eyes, rolling fast down his cheeks. Mike's heart lurches, and all he wants is to hold his friend.

"Everyone's sorry. I... I'm sorry. Sorry doesn't do anything."

"I know, but..." Mike knows how empty words like this sound in the face of loss, how useless they are. "But Bill, we're here for you, you know that don't you?" I'm here for you.

Bill bites hard on his bottom lip, so hard Mike fears he'll draw blood. He gets to his feet, swaying slightly.

"Ten." He says, and for a moment Mike doesn't know what he's talking about. "He'd be ten this year, Mike. He's supposed to be ten."

"I know."

"He's supposed to be ten. How has it been three years? I... I t-think about him, and it feels like yesterday, l-l-like I just realized how long he'd been out on his own, and this... T-this feeling just hits me, and I..." Bill's left hand goes to his stomach, twisting tightly in his shirt. "He's supposed to be ten."

His eyes are downcast, his voice tight, like a string threatening to snap. Mike's afraid to speak, but he knows he needs to say something.

"Time--" He starts, but Bill lets out a choked kind of sob, his hand coming to his mouth, and Mike can't continue, the broken noise rooting him to the spot.

"Time." Bill says softly, almost reverently, and then the string snaps, the dam broken. His next words are strangled and loud. "Isn't time supposed to--supposed to fucking heal me?"

The question is harsh, tears falling freely down Bill's face. He's not looking at Mike; he's not looking at anything, his eyes wide and desperate. Mike takes a quick step back, wondering if he should say more or simply let Bill go, knowing the rest of the Losers can hear Bill from the living room.

"It's been three years! Mom drinks more than she talks to me. Dad works more just so he doesn't have to be in the house, and none of it... None of it fucking hurts any less."

"It does get easier." Mike says quietly, and for a wild moment he thinks Bill might punch him, but his friend just turns away, his chest heaving with another cry that he stifles with his hands. "It does. It might not feel like it, and sometimes... Sometimes all the hurt comes back, and sometimes it feels worse, but... But it does get easier."

"Then why do I still feel like this?" Bill asks, and he sounds so desperate and defeated that Mike's heart aches in his chest. "Why... Why? What's wrong with me? Why can't I get better?"

"You are getting better, Bill."

"It hurts... I miss him every day."

"And that's okay." Mike says. He misses his parents too, more than he can even say, and it's as though in that moment, Bill remembers that Mike has also experienced a loss like his own. He's looking at Mike like a lifeline now, his eyes wide.

"When I'm not t-thinking of him, when... When I'm happy, and I feel happy, I j-j-just remember and I feel so..." Bill's hands clench and unclench and he wipes furiously at his face, wetting his shirt, but the tears aren't discouraged. "I feel so guilty."

"Why?" Mike asks softly, taking a hesitant step forwards. Bill swallows roughly, avoiding his eyes.

"Because I'm not supposed to be happy, I can't, n-not... Not when Georgie's dead."

He stumbles over the last word, as though his tongue is trying to hold it back, as if keeping it unsaid will stop it from being true, even after all this time. Mike feels a sharp ache resonating through him and he's stepping up to Bill, wrapping Bill in his arms, and Bill completely breaks, gripping Mike tightly, burying his face in Mike's shoulder and crying, crying, shaking so much that it's all Mike has to hold him together.

"This pain isn't something you deserve." Mike says softly, a lump in his own throat. "It's not, Bill. You have to believe that."

Bill shakes his head, Mike pulling back, Bill's hands on his biceps as he reaches up and holds Bill's face, wiping away the wetness on Bill's cheeks with his thumbs.

"I can't speak for Georgie; I was never able to meet him. But I'm damn sure he wouldn't want the brother he loved so much to be sad. Those who loved us want us to live, Bill. That's what love is."

Bill's eyes fall closed, leaning into Mike's touch, and when his eyes open again Mike does something he knows he shouldn't, but can't help; he presses a soft kiss to Bill's lips.

Bill's hands tighten their grip, his fingers digging into Mike's skin, and he kisses back for just a moment. Then he pulls back completely and hugs Mike again, his face in Mike's neck, his arms looser now, holding him just to hold him. Just to be close.

"Stay the night at my house." Mike requests. "It's Georgie's birthday. We should celebrate."

Bill takes a step away and looks at him with questioning eyes, like he doesn't know the meaning of the last word.

"We'll celebrate." Mike says again. "I'll make him a cake. You can tell me all about him. Okay?"

Bill takes Mike's hand in his, using the other to wipe away the tears on his face, and gives a watery sort of smile, his face softer and more open than Mike had seen it in a long time.

"Okay." He swallows. "Thank you."

"For what?" Mike asks, but Bill doesn't respond, his giving his hand a squeeze. Smiling slightly, Mike squeezes back.

[film-in-my-soul]

Stuck Together - Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Pairing: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier (side Billy Denbrough/Stanley Uris)

Word Count: 4190 (it just… I don’t what happened…)

Warnings: Warnings: So there’s a bit of sadness in the middle but that’s it.

Request: Anon: Can you please do a reddie soulmate au fic? The one where it is impossible to lie to your soulmate. But like, that doesn't come into affect until they know they're soulmates? Okay so hear me out. Maybe you only know who your soulmate is when a matching tattoo appears after a significant moment together or something like that? You can mess with it if you'd like but just something along those lines maybe? Thank you so much!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I decided to go with the second part of the request because while I understand what you mean I think the markings appearing after sharing a significant moment was something I could work with better and make something a bit longer. I threw some side Stenbrough in there. Hope you don’t mind.

Also I know I really downplayed Eddie’s mom’s mania over her sons well being but honestly so much wouldn’t have worked in this fic if I didn’t. Sorry that she’s a bit ooc.

Also thank you so much to @wyattghouleff for looking over the fic and coming up the name when I was struggling!

Requests OPEN

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first one to notice that something had changed is Stan.

It was three weeks after everything that had happened. After they, hopefully, killed a clown in the bowls of Derry itself. Since Stan had almost died, since Henry Bowers “disappeared” and the town Sheriff apparently bleeding to death in his living room. It’s been three weeks since Eddie was convinced that he and all his friends were going to end up alongside the other missing children in their fucked up little town. Floating until they were nothing but rotting flesh and bone and maggots.

The thought alone made his stomach roll and his anxiety rocket right up.

More importantly, it’d been three weeks since he stood up to his mother and the tight reins that she’d constantly lead him around by had loosened.

He, Eddie Kaspbrak, was now allowed to have friends over. That being said, Stan was usually allowed over regardless, considering he was thought to be the least bad influence on Eddie in his mother's eyes. Still, Bill had gotten to come over and stayed the night the week before and much to Eddie’s endless surprise Richie had been allowed past the front door, instead of having to resort to climbing through Eddie's window under the veil of night.

Oh, his mother still tried to make him take his bullshit pills which he simply refused but he figured that he still carried everything else around in his fanny pack and with that she was appeased.

Right. Change. Stan.

It was three weeks later when the curly haired boy cleared his throat, back against Eddie’s bedroom wall, legs hanging off the side of his bed and a book flipped open on his lap, one that Eddie was sure Stan hadn’t actually been reading since they’d hurried up to his room.

Eddie turned his head so to look at his friend, waiting for him to continue while trying to scratch an itch stubbornly just beyond where his fingers could reach under his cast.

Stan was caught between looking at Eddie and his book. “Majestic Birds of the New England Area.”

“I uh, I think…” slowly his cheek began coloring pink near the top and his fingers reached up, fiddling with one of his curls. Eddie could tell that whatever Stann was trying to say he was nervous about. Stan only actively messed with his hair if he was nervous. “I think I have a soulmark.”

The pencil that Eddie was trying to write with dropped from his suddenly slack grip and his mouth fell open in surprise. Stan became ever redder, his legs drew up so that his knees were close to his chest and he could wrap his arms around them, bird book squashed uncomfortably between them and his chest.

“No fucking way.” Is what Eddie managed to get out after a tense moment of silence. Stan looked like he wanted to laugh and be sick at the same time, face instead settling into his neutral mask while he watched Eddie process the information he’d been given.

There was another moment of quiet when Eddie finally stood up.

“Show me.”

Hesitantly. Stan uncurled his legs and scooted to the edge of the bed, Eddie sat down beside him but Stan shuffled away so that was space between their sides. Eddie didn't really get why at first until Stan's hand went to the hem of his shirt, tugging up until the fabric was pulled high enough to expose the bottom of his ribs.

Right there, above where Eddie knew Stan’s “floating rib” should sit was two hands, palm to palm, fingers laced together.

“Oh shit.” Once again, not the eloquence that Eddie would have like to speak with, but really, he was all too surprised. None of the Losers, to his knowledge at least, had a soulmark. It wasn't something that was super uncommon but definitely a rarity among younger kids not even in highschool yet.

“Yeah,” Stan replied, his voice whispery as his fingers moved to draw across the little soul tattoo on his body.

“Do you know-”

“No,” Stan said, tenser than he’d been the moment before. He dropped the end of his shirt from his hand and began to fiddle with a curl again. Eddie wanted to offer some kind of comfort for him but he just couldn’t think of what to do. “You know,” Stan continued, “you’re actually the first person I’ve told.”

They lapse into the silence again.

“Oh, uh, wow…” Eddie really didn't know what to say to that. He looked down at his hands, clasped together on his lap and then to his cast before migrating his gaze back to still his embarrassed friend. "Why?” Because while Stan and Eddie were good friends and had been for a long time Eddie figured that the taller boy would have told Bill first.

While Eddie was thinking this Stan didn't respond, looking like he was caught up in his own head at the moment.

Oh.

“Oh.” Eddie gets it in a sudden and almost imperceivable connection of dots. Of course, Stan wouldn’t tell Bill first. “You didn’t want to tell Bill first because if he doesn’t have one that means he’s not your soulmate right?” He asks it quietly because his walls are thin and if his ma heard him talking about this kind of thing she probably wouldn’t take too kindly to letting Stan up in Eddie’s room anymore.

Of course, same-sex soul marks are just as common as any other but this was Derry and stuff like that is kept under wraps and out of the faces of people who might not be as accepting of others. Like Eddie’s mother.

A shudder went through his body at the thought of her finding out about him and what preferences he was starting to notice about himself.

Eddie thought he heard a sniffle from his right and remembered, this isn’t about him. Stan needed him right then like how he needed him in the tunnels. Like they’ve all always needed each other.

When Eddie looked he could tell that Stan was trying to hold back frustrated tears, his hands now fisted into Eddie’s comforter on either side of his legs and his bottom lip caught between his teeth, breath shuddering out in careful bursts.

Eddie did the only thing he could think of and slung his arm around Stan’s shoulders. Eddie usually didn't like touching people but his friend required this comfort and Eddie was able to give it to him so he did.

It was another three weeks when they’re all at the Quarry together, Eddie with bags under his eyes. So much had changed since Stan told him about his soul mark but one constant that remained was Eddie’s nightmare plagued dreams. They woke him up at all hours and refused to let him settle back down into sleep.

Visions of lepers, hundreds of them swarming to get him, of blood-soaked clowns dancing around his body, and of his friends, all white-eyed and hovering off the ground, like Bev had been.

One of the biggest changes was that apparently, the majority of The Losers Club had developed little marks like Stan’s.

Ben had been the first to reveal his mark to the group a day after Stan had done the very same with Eddie. His mark was on his shoulder, close-up like it wanted to crawl toward his collar instead. It was an orange flame. Everyone wanted to touch it, Eddie and Stan feigning awe at the little tattoo.

Bev was the last to feel the smooth patch of color and when her fingers brushed over the little flame, something completely unexpected and crazy happened.

A flame of her own bled into existence on the back of her hand, slow, like it was taking the time to bleed into every layer of her skin until it was just as vibrant as Ben’s. Soulmates.

Eddie spared a glance to Bill, knowing that he probably wasn’t taking the news all too well. The boy’s expression was sour but under it accepting of the truth, his hand up by his heart, clenching and unclenching unconsciously over the fabric of his shirt. Stan went to stand beside Billy in silent support. Eddie noted a bit of the tension he’d been holding the day before dripping away from his shoulders.

Eddie guessed when your biggest competition was someone else's soulmate it was a bit easier to hope that your crush might just be yours.

There was some debate running around as to why the mark had taken so long to form and why at different times. All anyone really knew for sure that a shared experience was what tied soulmates together.

Unfortunately, that could mean anything and it didn’t help Eddie narrow down who Stan’s might be. He could have bumped into someone and apologized, thanked a young clerk at the grocery store, talked to a neighbor boy for the first time, killed a clown with his group of friends.

Eddie hoped for Stan’s sake it was the latter of those options because then that, at least, brought the options to three, Bill, Mike or…Richie. Eddie practically shook the twist in his stomach away. He knew that Stan and he couldn’t be soul mates, Eddie had done an extensive check of his body, no mark to be found and he figured if it was going to be a delayed thing it would have happened like Bev’s had.

A week passed from Ben's reveal and while the group of friends was waiting by the ice cream truck Richie came tearing down the main street, hollering, swerving dangerously into a stop in front of them before practically throwing himself off his bike.

“Dudes, dudes, I got one! I got one too!” For a beat everyone was confused. Then dread began to pool in the middle of Eddie’s stomach, cold and heavy like a ball of ice. He turned to look at Stan, swallowing harshly as the curly haired boy looked back, equally terrified.

Eddie felt like he needed his inhaler.

Richie didn’t give his friends any time to really ask anything, already reaching for the top of his ratty jeans by his hip, pulling down the fabric just enough for them all to see the little design against the jutting bone.

It looked like a roll of white tape.

For some reason the chilling dread doesn’t lift from Eddie’s chest, only clenched tighter like a vice. At least he didn't match with Stan, and out of the corner of his eye, Eddie could see the boy sagging with relief as they shared the same thought.

Everyone took turns touching it and when Eddie placed the tips of his fingers to the mark it seems like maybe both he and Richie were holding their breath. It was probably just his imagination though. Nothing happened and Richie thought for a painful moment his heart might actually be breaking when he pulled away from his best friend. He swallowed down the numbing hurt and give a faint “neat,” before going back to where he’d left his and Richie’s ice cream.

Stan gave him such an understanding look that it made Eddie want to punch him. But it wasn't his fault so he didn't.

And now they were all at the Quarry. Eddie didn't want to admit it, even to himself, but he’d been intentionally spending time away from Richie. It sucked but really, feeling like there was glass in his heart, sharp points of pain that were hard to breathe around, sucked just as much. He couldn't avoid a group hang out though. Besides, his ma would think she was winning the battle if he stayed cooped up in the house for too long.

They were all at the water’s edge, Ben and Beverly sitting together with their legs in the water.

Eddie was sitting with Stan, watching Bill, Mike and Richie converse, something like an argument brewing over the fact that Bill apparently didn't want to go swimming.

“Come on Bill,” Richie said loudly, drawing out the second word like some kind of child. “We came here to swim so let’s swim.”

“You gu-guys can g-g-g do it. I’m f-f-fine.” He crossed his arms over his torso. Something was fishy about the whole thing, Bill loved swimming with everyone.

“Dude, seriously? You’ve been buggy all week. Just hop in with us for a bit?” When Richie was being sincere there wasn't much that Billy can do but give in. He was just that kind of person.

“Ugh, f-fine.” Richie didn't bother to hold back his triumphant smirk, him and Mike already pulling off their clothes to get into the water.

Almost insecurely Billy started to draw his shirt over his head. Eddie watched the odd behavior, Stan beside him, looking off into the forest with his binoculars, scouting for birds. If Richie hadn’t turned back to Bill and shouted: “dude what the fuck?!” Eddie might not have noticed anything at first and Stan surely wouldn’t have startled and whipped around, a scowl on his face to reprimand Richie.

They were both stopped short by what was on Bill’s chest.

Even from this distance, Eddie knew what it was because he’d seen it before.

Right above where Bill's heart would just behind his ribs was a soulmark.

Two hands, palms touching, fingers laced together.

Beside him, he could hear Stan’s binoculars dropping to the ground with a careless thunk.

Eddie could barely hear what was being said from the trio ten feet away.

“- ju-just did-didn’t think it wa-wa-was that import-t-tant.”

The crystal cold feeling wormed its way into Eddie’s chest, looping through his bones and seizing his limbs. He knew he shouldn’t be feeling like that, not when Stan was probably going to break down with happiness but Eddie couldn't help it really. In some sick way, he had been almost glad that Stan’s mark didn’t match with anyone because that meant he was feeling what Eddie was feeling, and now Eddie was alone with that feeling because Stan’s mark did match someone. It matched Bill Denbrough, basically the love and Stan’s life and Eddie, Eddie didn’t get to have that.

Eddie and Stan picked themselves up from the ground, Richie was dragging a flustered, shirtless Bill over to their small fraction of The Losers Club.

“Guys look-”

“Beep beep Richie,” Stan’s voice was surprisingly steady when he cut the other boy off and took a step forward. A hush fell over the entire group. The thick energy filling the air seemed to be reaching all of them. It was almost like with Bev and Ben when Stan looked pointedly at Bill’s mark and then into his eyes.

Bill was slack-jawed, expression open as an understanding passed between them. Stan's partially worried expression lightened, the corners of his mouth pulled up into a smile, Bill’s expression did the same and it was all too much for Eddie. He couldn't take it. He really couldn't. Because after everything, the gray water, the leper, the fucking clown, and Richie’s unmatched mark that Eddie didn't have, he really couldn't handle anymore.

He stepped back from the circle that had started to form around Stan and Billy. Unfortunately, Eddie tripped over a small rock in his haste and drew the attention away from the new pair of soulmates and onto himself.

“I uh, I gotta get home,” he kept backing up as he said it, “I’m getting the cast removed tomorrow so I gotta go home and rest up so yeah.” Eddie wouldn't say that he ran away exactly but he wasn’t slow about his retreat.

The pressure that had been building up in his chest was getting too tight and Eddie wanted to cry but he wouldn't, he couldn't.

The sound of someone coming up the trail behind him gave Eddie reason to pause. He didn’t though, just continued to trudge up toward the road so he could walk home.

“Dude! Eds, wait up!” Richie called from behind him. Eddie felt the claws in his chest sink harder, not even able to call back for the other to not call him that.

Richie’s footsteps grew louder as he raced to catch up with the other boy. Eddie didn’t want to run but the urge was there. He could not deal with this, with Richie, right now. A hand reached forward and fingers curled around Eddie’s arm, right above his cast. Richie pulled him to a stop and Eddie spun around, yanking his arm away from Richie’s grasp.

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

“Eds what the hell was that back there?” Richie sounded more concerned than Eddie had been expecting. He'd been like that since the tunnels, still Richie but almost more considerate. Eddie bristled at the tone. He'd much rather have Richie trying to make a joke at his expense then whatever he was doing at the moment.

“Nothing, like I said, I need to get home,” the excuse even sounded weak to his own ears. Richie gave a single bark of sarcastic laughter and rolled his eyes.

“Right. Since when are you listening to her mom again?” Eddie wanted to retort but Richie just kept going in the way that he always did. “It this about Stan and Bill’s soul marks? Is it ‘cause they didn’t tell you or because they match each other? Is it cause you don’t have one?” Eddie felt his body tense almost automatically for as unobservant as Richie usually was, he noticed the change immediately, the effect of his words being so close to the truth. “Really Eds is that it, I mean -”

Eddie’s fingers were curled up at his sides into tight fists.

“Beep fucking beep Richie,” and surprisingly it worked.

Eddie wondered as he turned around and stormed out onto the main road toward his house, Richie left standing there, shocked still, if it was because of the harsh tone he’d used or the way his eyes were glossy with unshed tears. Maybe it was the tremble in his lip or the way his shoulders were starting to shake that made Richie stop. Eddie didn't know and really Eddie didn't care because he needed to get to the safety of his bedroom before he broke down. Smack in the middle of Derry is not where he'd want anyone to see him turn into a crybaby.

He made it home in record time and managed to avoid his mother on his way up the stairs.

The next day as he was loaded up into his ma’s car on the way to the hospital his eyes are rimmed harshly with red and thankfully the older women next to him didn't say anything about how it was clearly from crying. She only went so far as to remind her son to take his allergy pill.

Both Stan and Richie had tried calling a number of times the night before. Sometime around midnight, he thought he could hear the tell-tale clacking of pebbles against his window, Richie trying to get his attention. Eddie had simply rolled, facing away from the locked window and clutched a pillow over his head, begging the nightmares to drag him into a restless sleep so he wouldn't have to deal with it anymore. Anything to put the day behind him.

Getting his cast off was terrifying, he had to look away when the doctor and nurse brought out the saw. He knew through extensive research that the blade was dull and moved in a way that it won’t actually touch him. He still couldn't watch when he heard the whirring sound of the blade started up.

The process was painless, only a dull tickling sensation over his arm as the cast vibrated and subsequently split in two. The nurse went to work wiping down his arm while his doctor looked over where the break had been before even though they had already done an x-ray to confirm that all was as it should be.

It was only when his arm was turned over to inspect the underside did his nurse let out a faint and surprised “oh!”

“Oh?” Eddie questioned, his voice cracking with panic. “Oh, what?”

He was thankful that his mother wasn’t in the room with him when it was revealed what the women holding his arm had seen.

A white roll of tape on the inside of his wrist.

Eddie didn’t know if what he was feeling was the actual overpowering relief flooding his veins or that fact that he might pass out any second.

The rest of the checkup went as planned and Eddie managed to get his spinning mind under control to answer his doctor's questions. When his ma came to collect him Eddie was waiting for the moment that the nurse or his physician would tell her about his little soul mark. Neither of them did and his mother thankfully didn’t examine his arm.

Once he was home Eddie wasted no time what so ever. Going for his slightly dusty bike, chain creaky from disuse, the boy popped back the kickstand, and against his mother's loud and worried protests rode out of his driveway and toward Richie’s house.

As he rode Eddie wondered if Stan had felt like this when he’d seen his mark matching perfectly over Bill’s heart. It felt like a warm pulse was thrumming through his body and the only thing on his brain, playing over and over again on a loop was “Richie Tozier is my soulmate, Richie Tozier is my soulmate, Richie Tozier is my fucking soulmate…”

Richie’s house was normally a ten-minute bike ride away. Eddie made it in seven.

Without a care for his beloved mode of transportation, Eddie threw his bike down and hurried up the porch to Richie’s front door. He wasn’t surprised to see that both of the Tozier’s cars were out. They were almost never home.

Eddie knocked on the door, three times in loud succession. He heard the sound of stomping feet approaching and took the few seconds it would take Richie to open to door to feel nervous. A fluttering wave of nausea over the thought that maybe, regardless of what having a soulmate really was, Richie wouldn't want Eddie to be his.

Once the door was swung back and Richie could take in the sight of his friend, Eddie wasn’t scared anymore. If Stan could do it then so could he.

Richie crossed his arms around his middle looking both worried and miffed simultaneously.

“Are you here to yell at me more?” He was trying to sound indifferent but Eddie new when his best friend was putting up a front.

Not saying anything Eddie held his arm out, wrist facing up toward Richie who just rose a brow in confusion at the shorter boy before glancing down and freezing, his whole body becoming statuesque as he stared, wide-eyed through coke bottle glasses at the tape (which Eddie now recognized as medical tape) soul mark on his wrist.

Richie only had time for his lips to curl into a smile and the tips of his fingers to brush over Eddie’s mark before the other was stepping forward into his space, clutching a handful of his shirt by the already stretched collar and tugging him down.

Richie was surprised enough by the sudden action that he didn’t even register for a moment that Eddie’s mouth was now on his and that they were technically kissing, or, well, Eddie was kissing him. Once he did realize Richie closed his eyes and pressed his lips back to Eddie’s chapped ones.

As first kisses went Eddie hadn’t known what he’d been expecting. Probably not the uncomfortable glasses digging into his face, or Richie’s nose pressed almost harshly against his own, nor the faint hint of Cheetos mingled between their mouths. Regardless of those little things Eddie had to admit it was kind of perfect.

He pulled away and Richie smiled at him, leaning down again to reconnect their lips.

First kisses might be perfect, Eddie thought to himself, but second, and third and fourth ones were just as good.