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my-fanfic-library · 5 years ago

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Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [27]

Masterlist

Warning: gore ;)

~^*^~

Stalking down the hallway, Jack was in a fury. Trust Daniel to take advantage of a desperate situation. Turning the corner, Jack almost collided with a very familiar person.

“Hi Jacko!” She beamed.

“Don’t call me that.” Jack grumbled.

“Oh,” her eyes landed on Dracula, “hello again, you.” Immediately, her eyes glossed over. She was clearly trying to flirt.

“Hello again, Chelsea.” Dracula smiled, which faded when Jack glared sharply at him. He didn’t know what had happened but considering how badly Jack’s nostrils were flaring, it wasn’t good.

“I’m surprised to see you here. Considering the situation, I thought you’d broken up with [First].”

“They did.” Jack replied for Dracula, and Chelsea sent him a look as if to say ‘shut it!’

“Shame. Well, should you ever want another young adventure...”

“No thanks,” Dracula began, “I’m afraid I prefer my food a little less... handled.”

Her face immediately reddened and Jack had to admit that pride swelled in his chest. Dracula was slowly becoming a pro at comeback culture. Oh god, he wish he had a camera to take a picture of the shock and offence settling on Chelsea’s face because he knew that you of all people would have loved to see it. Thinking of you, he needed to hurry to the apartment.

Chelsea quickly composed herself to scowl at Dracula.

“You’re too old for me anyway, granddad.” Dracula chuckled at her words.

“Touched a nerve?” He teased with a low and soft voice.

“You wish.”

“Alright!” Jack interjected nervously, “we need to go pick [First] up.”

As if on cue, the door halfway down the hallway burst open and a bag flew out, smashing against the wall and crashing to the floor. Following it, your voice, screaming all sorts of profanities. Okay, you were upset.

Dracula narrowed his eyes, pushing past the pair and making his way further down the hallway. Your voice was strangled and hoarse. Were you crying...?

A male’s voice came in, cutting off your own in an angry rant. Dracula did not know what had gone on, but nobody - nobody - made you cry. This green fuel coursing his body was unfamiliar. It was strange. He didn’t know why it burnt in the bottom of his chest, or why it was making his steps grow with each passing second. He just knew that he was about to grab this asshole speaking to you like you were nothing and throw him through a wall.

You stepped backwards, out of the door, still looking inside of the apartment. Your face was red with tears streaming down your face.

“Was this your plan all along?” You were trembling, “accept me into your life in my hour of desperation and just use me for a quick shag?!”

“We aren’t even dating! I don’t get why you’re so upset!”

“Because you- because you kept telling me how much you’d missed me! You kept begging me to give myself to you again! And I did and then- then- you bring that filth in! You fucked her like you fucked Lucy!”

So it was Daniel after all. Infamous Daniel who had shattered your heart. Dracula had to thank him in some respects. Had you not needed to flee to Whitby, you may have never met. Right now, Dracula couldn’t imagine waking up in the 21st century and not meeting you. How differently would it have gone? Would he still have had to kill Zoe? Would Jack even be here? Would Lucy have died?

Who knew? The only thing Dracula knew was the green seeping into his mind, and the red beginning to cloud his vision. Not a soul on this fucking planet was allowed to upset you.

“That’s- not fair.” Daniel’s voice softened.

“Is it not?!” You shrieked, “but you bringing that-!” You cut your self off with a noise of anger, running your hands through your scalp and tugging on the roots of your hair. You bit your lip, turning and freezing.

“Don’t let me halt you from finishing your sentence.” Dracula spoke, voice very soft. His eyes had also softened at the sight of you. You were at breaking point.

“Drac...?” your voice was so sweet, so hoarse. Dear god, you oozed sadness in every fibre of your being right now.

“Hello, darling.”

“Why did you bring him?” You were looking past him now, a furious gaze at Jack.

“I thought maybe you’d like to-“ Jack began.

“You thought wrong. You-“ you turned back to the apartment, pointing at the male who was still inside. Dracula had not seen him in person yet, “you can fucking rot in hell. If I ever see you again, I swear to god I will literally tear your voice box out of your throat.”

“[First]-“ Dracula began, but he was the next one to receive your anger.

“Don’t you even start. If you had just controlled yourself for once-! If you had just a tiny,” you motioned with your fingers, “tiny ounce of self control and left Renfield alone, this wouldn’t have happened!” You were in a rage, “I really don’t want to see you right now.”

Ouch.

“You’re being a right bitch, you know that?” Daniel’s voice came from the apartment and you flew into a fury. You turned, the bag that had fallen to the floor was in your hand and you launched it at him.

“Shut the fuck up, manwhore!”

“Um, ow?”

~^*^~

The guest bedroom at your parents’ house felt weird. You refused to sleep in your own bedroom, though.

In all honesty, you didn’t really know why you were angry at Dracula. You were just being... difficult. You were, of course, fully blaming him for turning Renfield, but how was anyone to know that Renfield would suddenly become obsessed with hunting you down? All of you knew that Dracula wouldn’t have turned him if this was the outcome. He probably would have fired him on the spot, had he known.

How had it gotten like this?

You wondered what Dracula was doing right now. After your outburst, he was either on his way to kill you himself in a possessive outburst of his own, or he was going to leave you and let Renfield find you. There was no way that he would possibly stand up for you now.

Oh, how wrong could you possibly have been...

A new box was sitting in the place of the old one - the centre of the room that usually remained locked. It was rocking violently. Dracula tutted. What a shame. He didn’t have any time to waste with his newest addition. Oh, no, he had somewhere very important to be. Anger had been bubbling in his chest all day. He looked quite disheveled, his usually neat white shirt untucked, the first few buttons undone, the sleeves lazily rolled up.

The drive to his destination was slow and bothersome. Rush hour traffic - especially in London - was a force to be reckoned with. Even against a vampire. But Dracula didn’t feel like making a magical entrance. He wanted to make sure he was understood, that his point would come across.

Too long, he had been bothered by this whole ordeal. Too long, the pain had been felt.

He was going to put a stop to it.

He remembered the way easily, slamming his car door and stalking forwards. This was going to be so fun. He smirked.

And then, he was at the door. He knocked.

“Who is it?” The voice called.

“Open the door and find out.” Dracula called back.

He heard a sound. Then silence. Perhaps he was expected to leave if the door didn’t open for him. He rolled his head, readying himself. Limber up. He was technically an OAP, after all. He’d need to ready his body.

Silence.

He stepped back, and then the sound, like an explosion as with all the force he had, he kicked the door in. It flew open, smashing against the wall, the handle lodging itself into the wall. Standing on the other side of the room, almost cowering, the being that made a snarl come from Dracula’s mouth. Undeath wouldn’t do. Utter destruction. That would be the only way.

“Hello, Daniel. We haven’t met. I’m Dracula.” He grinned, a demented kind of grin. The kind you’d associate with a murderer.

“You-...” how could he say anything?

“Cat got your tongue?”

“What are you doing here?”

Dracula took a good look at him. 5’7”, 8” at a push. He wasn’t very muscular, he’d be easy to overpower. He was trying his hardest to look intimidating, but Dracula, who just stood there, doing nothing at all, was clearly the alpha here.

“Well, you see, I just couldn’t stop thinking about the way you treated [First] today,” Dracula began, “or the last time you were with her.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Boy, he couldn’t hide the terror in his voice no matter how hard he tried.

“You treat women like they’re nothing. You treat them like toys to be disposed of once you’ve had enough. [First], Lucy, Chelsea, goodness knows how many more...” Dracula turned, and Daniel watched as he plucked the door from the wall as if it were merely a dart, and shut it softly behind him. He closed in, towering above the younger, “you hurt her. You have no respect for her. I can’t let you get away with that.”

“You’re fucking crazy.” Daniel whispered.

“I’m crazy...?” Dracula amused, pulled up an eyebrow, “you dared to hurt the only thing a vampire cares about.”

“...vampire...? Now I know you’re batshit.”

“Actually, just bat.”

His eyes darkened. His lips curled. He was overcome with the anger, the jealousy, the sheer... whatever the fuck it was. It was all in his chest and the urge to just dive into ruining the pathetic man before him swallowed him whole.

The screams that filled the room would never have been able to truly disclose what occurred in that room. Limb from limb, Dracula tore Daniel apart, taking his sweet time. Starting with each of his fingers, moving to his toes. He wanted the pain to last as long as possible. Blood was already soaking the carpet, Daniel’s body shaking violently with the shock. Using his nails, Dracula ripped his skin to ribbons, creating such a mess of his form. The blood... for the first time, Dracula knew that it wasn’t worth tasting. He didn’t need to inherit any part of the filth that he was slowly picking apart. Instead, he let it colour the carpet crimson. Occasionally, ripping off a digit, a jet of red would spurt out, splashing the wall.

The screams that ripped through Daniel’s throat concealed the sound of flesh and skin and bone tearing away from each other as Dracula tore his left arm away.

“Never again will you wrap your arms around my [First].”

Daniel was close to fainting. No longer bearing toes or fingers or an arm. He was bleeding profusely. The pain throbbed through his whole body. It was so intense that every other sense was drowning away.

Next came his other arm, torn off wth just as much vigour and he collapsed to his knees, sobbing.

“I don’t think so.”

Digging his hands into the blond locks, Dracula pulled him back up to his feet. His nails cut into the skin, blood flowing over his fingers. How he was able to withstand the stench of the blood, he didn’t know.

“Stay there.”

Dracula stood back to admire his work. Blood was seeping down Daniel’s face, mixing with his tears, dripping from his chin. Where his arms should have been, blood was pouring, too. The white of the bones where his arms should have connected poked out, flesh rugged and torn. Mangled strands of muscle flailed as the body shook with the terror, the shock, the sobs, the screams of utter agony. He was finding it hard to stand with the lack of his toes, each little space where the toe should be losing blood by the second, the whites of the bones also showing.

Dracula snarled, moving forwards once more. Daniel recoiled, but Dracula reached out to grab his nose. A disgusting crack filled the room, followed by a high-pitched, pain filled scream. Dracula twisted, feeling the cartilage crack and bend to his will. He pulled. A long strand of skin, from the bridge of his nose to the top of his hairline came off with the cartilage. Blood erupted from the gaping hole in his face and his eyes rolled back. He collapsed to the ground.

But, he was still conscious.

Dracula took his time dismembering the rest of his body, and then sat for a while, picking the flesh off of the bone, as if bored. He was slumped against the radiator, which was hot against his back. His raven locks were dripping crimson, specks of the same colour on his face. The white shirt was stained a deep red all over and he knew that the moment he left this room, he’d cause uproar.

The room was beginning to really stink of blood and there were chunks of flesh everywhere, over every piece of furniture, the walls, the ceiling. The only thing still intact was his head, resting on the sofa, nose and ears gone, blood oozing from the bottom. Dracula had really made a mess.

His eyes snapped open.

What had he just done...?

What would you say when you found out?

~^*^~

If the fire in the middle of the room wasn’t a cause for concern, the naked vampire standing next to it definitely was.

“Jesus!” Jack cried out, covering his eyes with his hand, “did you suddenly forget that nudism isn’t exactly accepted in the 21st century?”

“Actually, I just had to do a little airing out with some of my clothes.” Dracula explained.

“Is that why you’re having a bonfire in the middle of the apartment?”

“Something like that.” Dracula turned away from Jack, who refused to uncover his eyes.

It was late, and he had simply come to tell Dracula that you were safely dropped off. He wanted to go home almost straight away, but something about the scene he had just walked into made him have a feeling that something wasn’t right.

“Why...?”

“I just told you-“

“No, why are you burning those clothes...? What did you do to them...?”

“I will tell you, Jack, but, you must promise not to fall out with me.” Dracula turned back to him and Jack uncovered his eyes, but held out his hand to block Dracula’s... well, you know, from his vision. The look of disgust was evident on his face.

“Dracula, what did you do?”

“I killed Daniel.”

Jack froze up in shock. Dracula had gone to Daniel’s apartment? Oh god, what was he going to tell you? Was Dracula out of his mind or was he just driven by stupidity? Of course, you were currently in a place of hating Daniel, but for him to be killed by Dracula...

“Again, why...?” Jack asked warily.

“Because he hurt [First].”

“You’re crazy.” Jack whispered.

“Funny, that was one of Daniel’s last words.”

“She won’t forgive you.” Jack stated, stepping backwards towards the door.

“...I know.”

“I’m gonna-“

“Don’t tell her.”

“I have to, Dracula.”

Before he could make it to the door, Dracula had gotten ahold of him, and pinned him against the wall by his neck. The look in his eyes was deranged.

“Don’t.” Dracula growled.

But it didn’t matter if Jack told you or not, because your mother had just received a phone call, and was rushing up the stairs in tears to break some very bad news to you.

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#:))))))))))#still not as good as my infamous suitcase scene #anyway #something different #dracula #bbc dracula #netflix dracula #dracula x reader #bbc dracula x reader #netflix dracula x reader #claes bang #claes bang x reader #matthew beard

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cutie1365 · 4 years ago

Text

Sister, Sister

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Watson!Reader

Request: Anon- Hi💕💕 SHERLOCK x READER please can I ask for one where reader is Johns little sister (not Harry) and she has a major crush on Sherlock but only told John. And after she lived at 221c for a while she goes on a case with Sherlock and Anderson is flirting with her, but Sherlock steps up for her and admits he loves her (even though he has always had feelings for her) sorry if it a little confusing Love your writing btw💕

Word count: 3k

A/N: I changed it up a little bit from the request but I hope you like it!

Masterlist in bio

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

The chime of the doorbell rang through 221B Baker Street as Sherlock jumped from his chair, pulling him from his deep trance inside his mind palace.

“Finally a client.” He pulled the curtains back from the window, trying to get a better look.

“It’s not a client... Have you not been listening to me?” John asked, exasperated.

“I filter.” Sherlock muttered, removing his eyes from the window and losing interest.

John rolled his eyes at his answer and made his way down the stairs to open the door.

“John!” You smile as the door is flung open, dropping your bag and jumping into his open arms.

“Y/N! You made it!” John laughed, holding you in his embrace, “How was your trip?”

“Oh awful! The bloke next to me on the train would not shut up. I swear, three hours, I never saw him take a breath.” You chuckled as John grabbed your bag and led you up the narrow stairs.

You stepped into the darkened living room, your eyes going wide as you took in the space. Your brother was not lying when he said it was a bachelor pad.

Sherlock stood as you entered the room. He hadn’t been listening when John explained who this mysterious non-client was. Was it one of his girlfriends? He couldn’t keep up with how many come and go anymore. Although you were way out of his league.

“Y/N this is Sherlock Holmes,” John motioned, and Sherlock raised his hand to shake yours.

“Ah hello.” You smiled sheepishly. So this was the infamous Sherlock Holmes... John really had not done him justice when he described him. He’d mentioned the intimidating arrogant stare, but left out those cheekbones that could cut glass. Not to mention those curls.

“Y/N will be staying with us for a little while until she can find a place.” John explained once more.

“Hm, you’ve never let one of your girlfriends move in, what’s so special about this one?” Sherlock asked with his brows furrowed, examining you. You were a little younger, maybe five years or so, but there had to be something else.

Your jaw dropped as the words left his mouth, you turned to John who was seething beside you.

“She’s my bloody baby sister you cock.” John yelled, showing off that famous temper of his. Had he not told his flatmate that you were coming?

“Sister?” Sherlock’s eyes went wide, taking a step back.

“I told you this!” John yelled as they bickered like an old married couple.

“Are you adopted?” He turned back to you and asked, clearly not understanding how the two of you could be related.

“No, he’s just the runt of the family.” You answered with a smirk.

“Sister...” He muttered again, taking you in. Suitcase, train ticket poking out from your pocket. Of course, how didn’t he notice before? Why couldn’t he read it the moment you walked in the room. Why was he distracted? He’d seen beautiful women before and could still deduce them at the drop of the hat. Why were you making his senses falter?

“I just got a job in the city, still flat hunting.” You explained, because clearly he’d ignored the first few hundred times John told him.

“My apologies.” He nodded, still shocked at this new revelation.

“It’s alright, I was warned about you,” You laughed, not taking offense at the situation, as you followed John into the kitchen. He handed you a cup of tea as you took a seat at the counter.

“Warned? You warned her about me? Why?” Sherlock began pestering John after he’d taken a second to let your words sink in.

John deadpanned, like it was obvious, and to everyone else, it was.

“Really?” John asked, unamused.

“I’m not that bad, John.” Sherlock whined.

“In the 90 seconds that I’ve been here you accused my brother of being a whore and that we were in an incestuous relationship.” You retorted, taking a sip of your tea.

“Well I didn’t know you were related, you look nothing alike.” He argued.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a genius? Shouldn’t it be obvious even if he hadn’t mentioned it, which he did.” You shot back, knowing you’d won.

Sherlock didn’t say anything as he looked you up and down, before slowly turning to John.

“John I don’t think I like your sister, she’s mean.” He scowled as you and John chuckled. Sherlock huffed and left the room, nearly slamming his bedroom door.

“Well this is going to be fun.” You smirked, still looking off in the direction he fled.

“No,” John whipped around to face, his voice going stern as he raised a finger at you.

“What?” You asked, raising your hands in surrender. You hadn’t said anything to warrant this kind of response from your brother.

“No,” He pointed back to Sherlock’s door, and you rolled your eyes at the implied instruction to stay away from him. You couldn’t help it that he was your type to a tee, and it’s just so fun to watch him get all riled up when you teased him.

“So tell me about all these girlfriends, brother dear.” You rested your head on your hands, leaning towards him on the counter and changing the subject. John sighed, hoping his warning got through to you.

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

“What are you doing?” Sherlock asked as he walked out into the kitchen, a few days into your stay at 221B.

“Cooking dinner.” You held up the large spoon as if it was obvious.

“Why?” He asked again, maintaining his annoyed tone.

“Because I’m hungry??” You answered, as if that was the stupidest question in the world. What was this man’s problem? Did he not eat?

“Where’s my petri dish?” He asked as he approached you, practically pushing you to the side to look for the small plastic plate. You couldn’t ignore, try though you may, the way your body reacted when his hand touched your waist.

“I moved it.” You spoke, hoping your voice didn’t falter due to the unexpected touch.

“Where?” He shot up, his eyes scouring the kitchen.

“Over there.” You pointed to the corner of the kitchen island with your large spoon still in hand.

“Did you touch it?” He asked, rushing to it.

“I mean I moved it, but I didn’t stick my finger in it.” You rolled your eyes, moving your finger in a swirling motion as you spoke. Did he think you were an idiot? You didn’t know what kinda bacteria was growing in there, you were not about to touch that and then start preparing food.

Sherlock stood silently as he inspected the dish.

“Are those eyeballs in the fridge? I’m a little afraid to look.” You chuckled, placing your hand on your hip, filling the silence.

“Then don’t.” He quipped back, not taking his eyes off the dish.

“You know normally, you put food in a fridge. You could play a real life game of operation with all the stuff you’ve got in there.” You teased with a smile.

“We don’t normally cook.” He explained, placing the dish down, satisfied that you hadn’t ruined it as he moved to take a seat at the counter across from you.

“Oh so is the kitchen just decorational then?” You asked, knowing you were getting on his nerves.

“How’s the flat search going?” Sherlock rolled his eyes, changing the subject.

“Ugh, everything’s so bloody expensive.” You groaned, turning back to the stove to stir the boiling pot, “I don’t know how you afford this place.”

“Landlady’s got drug money.” The detective said casually.

“You’re joking.” You laughed, turning back to face him, and he shook his head.

“Husband ran a cartel.” He said, you didn’t think he had it in him to joke.

“You’re taking the piss.” You shook your head with a smile, there was no way that could be true. Little old Mrs. Hudson?

“I’m serious.” He smiled, maybe that was the first time you’d seen him do that.

“What’s that smell?” John walked in the room, stopping as he saw the two of you laughing. He eyed you sternly, and raised a brow, clearly you weren’t listening to his warning.

“That smell, dear brother, is a home cooked meal. I know the concept is foreign to you.” You retorted, causing Sherlock to smirk, before quickly dropping it.

“How much longer will your sister be here, she’s interrupting my experiments.” Sherlock asked John, returning to his annoyed manner.

“She is right here, and she cooks and cleans so you can either deal with it, or help me find a new place if you want me out that bad.” You pointed the cooking spoon at him, though he didn’t find you very threatening. Something about you standing before him in an apron, with your hair falling into your face, threatening him with a wooden spoon brought a smile to his face.

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

“What’s that?” You ask, looking over Sherlock’s shoulder as he sits at his desk. He must have been so deep in thought he didn’t hear you approaching.

“Go away, I’m working.” He swatted you away, knowing you’d distract him.

“Is that a body?” You leaned in closer, trying to get a better look.

“Yes, now go away.” Sherlock pushed you back as your hair fell onto his shoulder and he inhaled your scent, already distracted from the scene before him.

“So bossy, maybe I can help.” You said, stepping back and placing a hand on your hip.

“You could help? How could you possibly help? Your brother is a trained army doctor, that’s helpful. What’s a secretary going to do? File their papers?” He mocked as you rolled your eyes. You were a personal assistant, not a secretary, you didn’t just file papers all day.

“We’re good with details and eavesdropping.” You argued.

“Why aren’t you at work?” Sherlock asked, with brows furrowed after looking at the clock. You weren’t normally home during this time. He knew because it was the only time he could get work done without his mind wandering to you.

“Because my boss is on vacation in Malta and I’m bored out of my mind.” You sighed, flopping dramatically into the black plush chair next to the desk.

“So you think I’ll let you assist on this case? Not a chance.” Sherlock shook his head, turning back to the screen.

“Please, I’m so bored. Put me to work.” You begged, bouncing up from the chair and sitting on the arm.

“No.” He answered without turning away from the screen.

“Sherlockkk..” You whined. You were the youngest child, you knew how to get what you want, how to tear them down and break their will until they have no choice but to succumb to you.

“Dear lord, you are incessant.” He whipped back to you, the anger on his face causing a small smile to appear on your own.

“I’ll stop if you take me along. Please Sherlock, one case, and I’ll never ask again.” You pleaded, pressing your hands together almost as if in prayer.

“One?” Sherlock asked, and you knew you were getting somewhere.

“Just one, I wanna know what you do all day. What makes you come home and want to put eyeballs in the microwave.” You smirked, you were this close.

“You’re not giving up are you?” Sherlock huffed and shook his head with a small smile.

“Never.” You smiled, you could do this all day.

“Get your coat.” He instructed as you jumped from your seat, giddy.

You grabbed your coat off the rack and Sherlock pointed to you sternly as you slipped it on.

“You do exactly as I say, you hear me? You touch nothing. You say nothing.” He instructed, the glimpse of a smile you’d seen had now faded.

“May I blink?” You asked, as he moved towards the door.

“Don’t make me change my mind.” He turned back to you on the stairs, as you followed behind him, excitement still evident on your face.

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

“Freaks here!” A woman yelled as the two of you entered the scene. You were mesmerized, you felt like you were living an episode of CSI. Is this what Sherlock does every single day?

“And he’s got a guest.” A man in a white plastic suit said, standing and approaching the two of you. Your eyes went wide as you noticed the body on the floor behind him.

“Phillip Anderson.” He smirked and stretched his hand to shake yours.

“Y/n Watson.” You smiled politely as you drew your attention from the body.

“You recruited another?” Sally asked Sherlock, rudely.

“Come on.” Sherlock instructed, pulling you towards the body and away from Anderson. You took in every detail.

“What do we know?” Sherlock asked another detective who was standing over the body.

“Oh are you John’s sister?” The new man asked and you smiled and nodded.

“Greg Lestrade, D.I.” He shook your hand, “God, I didn’t know John had a sister.”

“What do we know?” Sherlock asked again, his patience growing thin. Or was he jealous at the fact that everyone was so preoccupied with you?

“James Cartright, 43, lives in town. Neighbors filed a noise complaint, and the responding officer found his body.” Lestrade explained.

“Why do I know that name?” You muttered, pulling out your phone.

“I thought we’d agreed on the not speaking thing.” Sherlock rolled his eyes as he turned to you.

“I know that name. Yes! See,” You showed him the shared calendar with the scheduled meeting, “He met with my boss two weeks ago.” Sherlock examined it as the victim's name was clearly there.

“Why?” He asked, not seeing any notes below the appointment to provide a reason.

“Don’t know, it was after hours so it wasn’t work related. Though from what I heard Cartright was in the market for a good divorce attorney. My boss and his wife split a year ago.” You explained, sometimes eavesdropping paid off... Though not for the man sprawled on the ground below you with a bullet in his head.

“Find out who his wife is, and if she’s got an alibi.” Sherlock turned to Lestrade and instructed.

“See, told you I could be helpful.” You smirked, nudging Sherlock with your shoulder as Lestrade ran off. Sherlock didn’t want to admit it, but you did speed up the process. Though it was only a stroke of luck. Or fate.

“Are you going to be around more often, Y/N?” Anderson asked, approaching you once more.

“Nope, one time thing.” You shook your head and turned to Sherlock with a smile, you had promised after all, one case and one case only.

“Why don’t you let me buy you a drink? We can extend this one time thing.” Phillip flirted.

“Oh.” You turned back to him, your eyes going wide in shock. That’s not where you expected this to go.

“Or dinner. Or we could always skip to dessert.” His voice dropped and your breath hitched. No one had ever been this forward with you.

“Um,” Was all you managed to let out. After all your playful banter that’s so easy with Sherlock, and you couldn’t even find a way to respond to this advance. Obviously you weren't interested. You were ruthless, Sherlock had seen it, you could send him crying back to his mother with your words if you wanted. He’d never seen you at a loss for words.

“Anderson, stop pestering my girlfriend and do your bloody job.” Sherlock seethed. You barely snapped back to reality enough to register that Sherlock had called you his girlfriend. Obviously he was just lying to get Anderson off your back so he’d stop interrupting the investigation, he hated you. You were pretty certain of that. Anderson ran off as another detective had called him over.

“Thanks for that. Kinda threw me off guard, I’m not really used to guys talking to me like that. You’d think standing over a dead body wouldn’t be the most opportune moment.” You began to ramble.

“Anderson is an idiot.” Sherlock said, before going quiet. He liked how it felt when he called you his girlfriend.

“What if I didn’t want it to be a lie.” He muttered, drawing your attention as you looked up at him.

“What?” You asked, not sure what he was referring to.

“What if it was true?” He asked, unable to just come out and say it.

“That I was your girlfriend?” You asked with a chuckle and he nodded, “Why would you want that? I thought you hated me. I mean I annoy the living daylights out of you.”

“No you don’t. I like having you around.” He admitted, and you couldn’t believe he was saying this.

“You have a funny way of showing it.” You smiled, shaking your head.

“I know. It’s just, you bring out a different side of me. One I didn’t know I had. You make me want to be better, for you. I want to be a man that you could love.” He spoke, unsure of where these words were all coming from. The ones he’d thought in the dead of night but never dared to say out loud.

“What if I told you you already are, just the way you are.” You smiled, watching his eyes snap back to you in surprise.

“What?” He asked, brows furrowed. There was no way you were returning the sentiment. There was no way you felt the same way.

“Oh please, why do you think I tease you constantly. I’ve liked you from the moment I met you. John could tell, that’s why he told me to stay away from you.” You chuckled.

“That would explain his recent increased hostility.” Sherlock realized.

“He’ll get over it,” You smirk, “Now can we get out of here, because I really want to kiss you, but there’s a dead body like right there and it’s really putting me off.”

You laugh, causing Sherlock to laugh as well. You were going to get him in trouble. His best friend's little sister, yeah he’d never hear the end of that one... Although John didn’t necessarily have to know. For now at least. Three weeks, maybe four, that’s how long Sherlock suspected it would take for John to catch on. Maybe five if the two of you could keep your hands off each other long enough in his presence. This was going to be fun.

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

Please let me know what you think! My requests are open but be warned this one was probably from three years ago so I kind of take forever to get around to them. It’s just about when I get inspiration for a story or think of some good dialogue.

Any and all feedback is greatly encouraged, even just a simple message helps!

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free-pancakes · 4 years ago

Note

A modern AU where levi and hanji went for a trip n hanji somehow involved in a gangster group n they kidnap her cz she got some secret info of the gangster group.. Later levi went to rescue her but they killed hanji in front of his eyes..after some mnths levi find hanji in his doorstep alive n kicking.. The gangster was Ackerman gang and levi doesn't know about this gang because her mother ran away with levi n give him better life.. Also hanji reform Ackerman gang and made them have a better life that's why they give hanji to utterly depressed levi.

(I'm shitty in writing and English is not my first language 😑)

It had been months since... the incident. Levi looked down at his phone, the red bubble over his text message notifications glared at him—hundreds of unread messages. He didn’t have the heart to open them. All of his friends asking if he was okay, but he just needed time to cope. He wasn’t sure how long that would be, but 6 months was nowhere near enough. His tea finished brewing and he stepped over to the kitchen, pouring two cups. It was routine, he didn’t care. It didn’t matter that Hange wasn’t there anymore, he still set out the cup anyway.

They had been on vacation. He had finally convinced Hange to take a break from work. Finally. And they somehow got entangled in the infamous Ackerman gang’s plans, Hange accidentally coming across sensitive information and was almost immediately taken right from him. He had called Erwin, head of the city’s police precinct and they fought to save her, but she was killed right in front of them. He shuddered, and tried to wipe the scene from his memory everyday, but the images danced in his eyes more often than not.

Six months felt like an eternity to Levi, and he continued to go through the motions, passive day after passive day, routine again and again--it felt like living hell as his heart swirled with guilt and regret. He felt like a mindless robot. Erwin would stop by often, worried about him. He would simply and nonchalantly talk to Levi about work since Levi almost refused to talk, but just sit and listen. He mentioned that the Ackerman gang activity was slowly dwindling, and nearly ceased, but Levi didn’t care. If only they just stopped activity before they came across it that day. It was too late.

“This is worthless information, Erwin,” he muttered. Erwin looked sadly at his friend. “Nanaba and Mike are hosting dinner tonight if you want to come later. Take care, Levi.” He let himself out and looked back—it was hard to see Levi like this.

The sun lowered, shining warm, orange beams of light directly through his window spilling onto the floor. The day before they left for vacation, the apartment looked just like this—the comforting glow of sunset filling every room with light, and illuminating Hange as he watched her pack her clothes into her suitcase on the floor. The light reflected off the gold frame of her glasses and her brown eyes, making them glisten like pools of honey, and he was absolutley mesmerized. She looked up to find him staring at her from the couch, and gave him a big toothy grin and laughed, her actions making him just want to hug the hell out of her.

He stared at the floor, now empty, the apartment painstakingly silent without her laughter. He looked at the clock, and thought he might just go over to Nanaba and Mike’s. He didn’t want to, but it was probably good for him. As he stood up to go get changed, he heard a soft knocking at the door. He debated ignoring it, but something compelled him to go answer. He opened the door.

“What do you wan—”

An almost blinding ray of sunlight spilled into the room through the open door and he stared directly in front of him with wide-eyes.

“H-Hange?” he said, voice shaking so much, he almost couldn’t speak. It felt so good to say her name again.

“Hi, Levi,” she whispered, loving the feeling of his name roll off her tongue out loud for the first time in months, soft at the sound of his voice. She was standing on his doorstep, messy hair, oversized sweatshirt, glasses, her annoyingly bright lipstick and all.

“A dream, yes this was a dream. Or some kind of joke,” he thought to himself. He just wanted to sit and stare at her for hours, scared that if he took his eyes off her, she would simply disappear into thin air, and he couldn’t bare to lose her a second time. She handed him a small hand written note.

“They told me to give this to you first,” she said with the dumb, toothy smile that made him weak at the knees.

He snatched the piece of paper out from her with shaking hands, and opened it.

“Hange was more helpful than we could have imagined. But please, take her back. She never shuts up and we know more useless scientific facts and knowledge than we ever wanted to know. And do us a favor--Don’t run into us again. Signed, Kenny Ackerman”

A black van sped off from behind them, and Levi was simply dumbstruck— but Hange was standing right in front of him. It was too real to be a dream, despite how absolutely ridiculous and confusing the note was. They weren’t wrong about the “never shutting up” part, though.

But it didn’t matter. She was alive and standing on his doorstep. Their doorstep.

He struggled to form words. “How? We saw you—”

“You didn’t think I was dead, did you? There’s no way that would have happened without me at least getting to say goodbye to you first or something, Shorty. Plus I wouldn’t go down without a fight, you know me--right Levi?”

He stood, silent. She cocked her head to the side, a caring expression across her face, and took a step forward and to wipe the tears from his cheeks with her thumbs. He didn’t even realize he was crying. She cupped her hands around his face and pulled it close to hers, their foreheads and noses touching, feeling each other’s puffs of warm breath on their skin. Tears fell down her face too, and Levi pulled her into his embrace, desperate to feel her heart beat close to his.

Honestly, he didn’t care for hearing her explanation, so that could wait til later. But he suspected her crazy mind did something to the Ackerman gang, and Erwin’s earlier comment was starting to make sense.

He left a small kiss on her lips, his body overcome with gratitude and relief as she kissed him back.

(thanks for the ask, anon! idk what this is lol but i don’t think it did justice to your awesome au idea! if you want something much much better, check out this by @smallblip and this by @fanmoose12! Based on the nature of your ask, you’ll absolutely love their fics!)

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #hanji zoe #ask #anon #snk #aot

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missjanjie · 4 years ago

Text

Santa Ana Winded | Gottrosé

Title: Santa Ana Winded Summary: Rosé is visiting Los Angeles just as the infamous Santa Ana Winds are kicking into high gear. On paper, that's fine, but staying with Mik certainly isn't going to make handling the potential effects of the 'devil winds' any easier. Word Count: 1823 Relationship(s): Gottrosé (Rosé/Gottmik) Rating: E

and thank you to @nickysjaida for beta-ing! ♥

read on ao3 | ko-fi

“Where are you staying, again?” Jan asked as he helped Rosé finish packing.

Rosé smiled as he propped the suitcase against the wall. “I’m staying with Mik. You know, he lives in that fancy house with all those influencers, and he was so insistent with that cute, little LA vocal fry, it’s impossible to say no to.”

Jan arched his brow – he knew his friend and he knew that smile. “You better watch yourself, sis,” he warned. “Especially going this time of year, that’s when the Santa Ana winds start hitting hard.”

“Why is that relevant?”

“They call them the Devil Winds,” he explained. “It’s known to cause weird dreams, usually about your deepest desires and fears. It also triggered the shit out of my allergies, but that’s not the point. It might cause you to act a little impulsive, is all I’m saying.”

Rosé’s brows rose in curiosity. “The fuck were you dreaming about at summer camp, huh?”

Jan blushed and cleared his throat. “It doesn’t matter because unlike during season twelve, I wouldn’t have had the chance to even consider acting on it, and I was having normal dreams on the plane home,” he said flatly. “You, however, are going in a lot more vulnerable to those devil winds,” he teased.

He scoffed. “Fuck off, I don’t even have allergies. And I think I’ll be able to control myself… you know, as long as I don’t drink,” he murmured. He was well aware that Jan and the whole internet knew what happened when he and Mik were left alone with alcohol.

“That’s a tall order for you, babe. Good luck.”

------

By the time Rosé landed in LAX, he had stopped thinking about Jan’s warnings about the wind. Jan was known to be dramatic, after all. He was sure his friend was just getting him riled up for no reason, or using it to justify whatever sex dreams he’d had about a certain other NYC queen, not that he was going to name names, but he could’ve.

It didn’t take long before he spotted Mik, but he’d only taken a few steps in his direction before the other queen came barrelling towards him at full speed, launching himself into Rosé’s open arms.

“Hi, baby,” Rosé greeted with a fond laugh, picking Mik up and spinning him around quickly, then carefully setting him back down. “I missed you.”

“I missed you so much, gorge,” Mik grinned as they made their way out of the airport. “This is gonna be so much fun. We should go live, the fans always go nuts for that,” he suggested. Once they stepped outside, he winced. “Fuck, it’s still windy as hell.”

Rosé nodded, “ah, the infamous Santa Ana Winds,” he observed as he loaded his luggage into the trunk of Mik’s car. “Jan gave me a whole warning about them. Do they actually fuck with your head and all of that?”

“I guess it, like, depends on your mental state or whatever. Last year we had to talk Gigi out of buying a plane ticket to Missouri, she was feeling it real heavy, like, she was either going to pull some teen romance stunt with Crystal or murder her boyfriend,” he explained with a casual flippancy as they made the drive back to his house. “Why, you worried the devil winds are gonna come for you?”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head, gaze avoidant. “No, just wanna be prepared for whatever chaos I’m walking into, you know? Knowing you, I could be walking in on an orgy or a crime scene.”

“I don’t see the problem here, gorge,” Mik retorted flippantly as he pulled up in front of the house.

Rosé laughed softly as he got out and grabbed his things. “Of course you don’t,” he retorted with a dry laugh as he followed him inside.

------

As it turned out, Rosé’s resolve not to drink was weak. He wouldn’t claim that he gave in to the peer pressure of a group of young twenty-somethings, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t allow himself to give in so his mind and body would shut up.

But he had fun, Mik was a good time and the group of them knew how to party without being over the top. Nothing happened between him and Mik throughout the night beyond some too-close, sloppy, dancing, so he went to bed that night considering it a success.

It wasn’t long before Rosé fell asleep, the powerful gusts of wind serving to soothe him. The way the palm trees creaked and rattled from the relentless devil winds turned into little more than white noise. The dream that followed, however, played out what he had prevented in reality.

The dream wasn’t coherent and linear, but the content was clear – he was in bed with Mik, both of them naked. Their hands and mouths were all over each other, moans spilling from their lips. It felt real, too real.

When he jolted awake, Rosé swore he could still feel Mik’s fingers lingering on his skin. His face and chest were bright red and his breathing was heavy. He looked under the covers and groaned at the tent that was pitched in his boxers.

Before Rosé could address the situation at hand, he heard the bedroom door creak open and he quickly repositioned himself on his side to cover his erection. “Mik?” he squinted his eyes as he tried to see through the darkness, adjusting enough to make out the familiar frame.

“Oh, perf, you’re awake.” Mik’s voice normally had such a casual nonchalance about it, but when he spoke this time, there seemed to be a mix of both strain and relief. “Look, I know this is gonna sound fucking lame as shit, but I had a, um…” he shook his head, just getting the words out was impossible with the strength of his pride.

“A dream, perchance?” Rosé chuckled softly and ran a hand through his hair, “because that would make two of us.”

The tension left Mik’s body and a spark of confidence took its place. “So, you feel it too,” it was somewhere between a question and an observation, but he didn’t wait for Rosé to clarify. He crawled onto the bed and straddled his lap, his eyes instantly going wide. “It really was the same dream, huh?” he smirked.

Rosé couldn’t even be embarrassed when he met Mik’s eyes, the lust he saw in them erasing any emotion beyond unbridled desire. Logic and reason were gone with the wind and the next thing he knew, his hands were on Mik’s face and he was pulling him into a kiss. It was deep and heated, their tongues swirled together and their hands tangled in each other’s hair.

Very few words were spoken – if they talked, they might start overthinking and psyche themselves out. They were already in too deep, there was no turning back now. It was too fast, fervent, clothes were being tossed aside in every direction. The only time they came up for air was when Mik reached into the end table drawer to grab lube and a condom.

They switched positions, Rosé rolling on top of Mik. He took the bottle of lube and slicked up two fingers, working in one, then another. His eyes were trained on Mik’s face, watching for any expression that he should stop. Instead, he watched his face contort in pleasure and listened to the moans that spilled from his lips.

Mik took the condom that was still on the bed and tore it open with his teeth, then rolled it down Rosé’s length. “This is your last chance to back out,” he warned, though there was a clear, unspoken ‘please don’t’.

“I’m not,” Rosé assured. He had already gotten to this point and god, he was aching to see it through. He carefully eased into him, one hand guiding his length while the other steadied himself by holding onto Mik’s waist. He let out a grunt as he bottomed out, then slowly picked up a steady thrusting pace.

“Fuck…” Mik exhaled in a breathy moan. His hips bucked up, picking up the rhythm of Rosé’s thrusts and writhing in tandem. He didn’t realize just how deeply and intensely his lust for him ran until it culminated in that moment. His fingers dug into the flesh of his shoulder blades, blunt nails still leaving indentations.

Even during sex, little was said between them beyond whispers of praise or dirty talk. Their moans and whines were loud and passionate, culminating sharply when they rode out their orgasms in tandem.

Rosé had to catch his breath before he pulled out, rolling the condom off his length and throwing it away. He laid back down and stared up at the ceiling, heavy breathing and wind blowing the only noises remaining.

Mik shifted over to Rosé, wrapping his arms around him and resting his head on his chest. “I know what you’re thinking,” he murmured. “Just… don’t say it.”

And Mik was right, so he didn’t.

------

“You’re looking pretty guilty,” Jan observed as he sat with Rosé during the uber ride back from the airport. “I don’t suppose this has anything to do with a certain LA-based season thirteen drag queen?”

“Nope, I didn’t even see Symone.”

Jan crossed his arms and arched his brow. “Come on, Rosie…”

Rosé groaned, getting out of the car and grabbing his luggage from the trunk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insisted before they walked up and took the elevator into his apartment. It wasn’t until they were alone in his bedroom that he sighed and confessed, “I had sex with Mik.”

Even though Jan suspected as much, hearing his friend make that confession still caught him by surprise. “Oh shit,” he gasped softly. “What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t fucking know!” he ran his hand through his hair as he paced back and forth across his bedroom. “How am I supposed to explain that I ignored the very clear instruction of ‘do not hook up with Mik’? I know being stupid is part of my brand, but this is crossing a line that I don’t know if I can bounce back from if I even deserve it.”

Jan stopped Rosé by grabbing onto his shoulders. “Listen to me, whatever happens, however it turns out, I’m gonna be here for you,” he promised. “I’ve gotta head out now, but I will drop everything in an instant if you need me, okay?” and after they exchanged goodbyes, he was on his way.

Rosé rubbed his face and stared at himself in the mirror. He shook his head, then his heart dropped to his stomach when he heard the front door rattling, then opening. “I’ll be right there, baby!” he called out, then refocused his gaze at his reflection. “You ruined everything, you stupid bitch.”

#gottrose #rpdr rpf

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itslunarwritesstuff · 5 years ago

Text

Movie night

Prompt: “This movie is really scary, but you’re so into it I’m trying not to cover my face the whole time but- WHAT IS THAT”

Word Count: 2,600

Pairing: Shawn Hunter x Fem! Reader

Summary: Weekly movie night at Y/N’s house isn’t exactly what Shawn planned when Y/N picks a horror movie for them to watch. The thing is Shawn hates gore-filled horror movies they scare him half to death but refuses to bruise his ego by telling her and not wanting to disappoint his girl.

Contains: Fluff, Cuddling, Hair playing, and braiding.

Y/N/N: Your nickname Y/C/H: Your color hair

Y/L/N: Your last name

___________________________________________________________________________________

It’s the last class period of the day and thankfully it is a Friday so the weekend is coming shortly.

Y/N is separating her books between what she needs for the weekend and not.

When she is finished she swings around with her backpack on her shoulders and runs face-first

into someone.

Books flying onto the ground and Y/N’s body as well, it takes her a moment to register that this has actually happened and then she sits up pulling her shirt back down to cover her exposed stomach that must have ridden up from the fall.

That someone is quick to bend down and offer her a hand up and help with her books, that someone being Shawn Hunter her boyfriend of only a few short weeks but a friend of much longer.

“Y/N I’m so sorry are you okay” he apologizes.

“No worries honey” Y/N smiles up at him.

Shawn turns his head as to not look directly at her, his face full of embarrassment from her falling and the casual nickname.

Mustering up some courage to speak he grabs her books off of the tiled floor and says “So are we still having movie night at your house tonight”?

Shawn hands Y/N the stray books and notebooks and she answers “Yuppers, my parents gave me the okay the other night, and get this! They’re letting us use the basement with the bigger TV; perfect for ‘The Gore Saga: Knife to meet you’”!

Trying to convey the same excitement as she is Shawn lies right through his teeth saying “That sounds awesome, I can’t wait”.

For a little background, Shawn hates horror movies with gore. Paranormal he can deal with, maybe even psychological thrillers, anything but gore. But it was Y/N’s turn to pick the movie and he didn’t want to be the one to ruin anything for her. So no matter how much he squirmed and cringed he decided he will not say a word on the matter; for her sake and his, he did have his own pride to look out for as well.

After all of her belongings were stowed away in her backpack she swung the object back over her shoulders and turns her head over towards Shawn’s then spots Cory and Topanga.

Y/N wouldn’t want to leave her friends out so she tells Shawn “I think we should invite Cory and Topanga, I think it would be fun to have the four of us hanging out”.

Before Shawn could protest she was already walking over to the infamous couple.

Shawn usually wouldn’t be against having his two best friends come along but knew if he chickened out they would most definitely poke fun at him and his pride couldn’t take that hit. Also, he wanted to be alone with Y/N cause the difference between tonight and the other movie nights they have had; is Y/N’s parents were gone for the weekend. And Y/N’s older siblings would be the ones “watching them” which meant they could basically do whatever they wanted. Which meant he gets to spend the night, per Y/N’s request of course.

“Hey Y/N, Shawn how are you guys”? Topanga asks.

“Besides falling back there, Doing pretty good. Hey, we wanted to ask you two a question” Y/N answers.

“Okay shoot”.

“So Shawn and I are having a movie night tonight and was wondering if you guys wanted to join us.”

While Y/N said this Shawn stood behind her swinging his arms and overtly mouthing the word “No”.

Cory is confused and doesn’t get the memo and almost says yes but Topanga gets the hint that Shawn wants to be alone with Y/N for the night and jabs her boyfriend in the side.

“We actually have our own date planned tonight but thank you for the offer,” the girl opposite Y/N says.

Cory still doesn’t get the memo and says “We do”?

“Yes Cory, remember”?

“No actually, which is alarming cause I remember anything and everything Topanga related,” Cory says with a genuinely worried expression on his face scratching his head.

Topanga leans over and whispers in her partner’s ear, a sudden look of understanding coming over him.

“Right that date thing” Cory laughs and says “You two have fun...lots of fun” a cheeky smile insinuating something else and walking away behind Topanga.

“Was he being weirder than usual or was that just me” Y/N turned and asked Shawn.

“It was definitely him, Trust me”.

“Okay, will you walk me home. I really don’t want to take the bus today”.

“Yeah of course. One second let me just grab my bag from my locker”.

After Shawn grabs his backpack filled with his overnight things and his books that Y/N made him begrudgingly put in there too; they head towards her house.

It is a nice spring day the only downside was the slight chill in the air despite it being sunny outside.

Even though Y/N had a sweatshirt on she was still freezing, it was as if Shawn sensed this and put his arm around her shoulder her hand coming up to interlock their fingers. They walked in sync staying close on the narrow sidewalk. Most of the walk was silent because they spoke through touch and subtle glances.

When they arrived at Y/N’s house her parents were still home but there was no worry, they trusted the two teenagers and her parents just adored Shawn. They wanted Y/N to be with Shawn before Y/N even knew she wanted to be with him.

“Hi Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N almost ready for your weekend getaway,” Shawn asked her parents when they entered the house. Suitcases were lined up next to the front door.

“Almost, we are just going down our checklist making sure we don’t forget anything.” Y/N’s Mom said frantically checking boxes on the slip of paper in her hand.

“We left money on the kitchen table for food tonight, so you guys order whatever you want for your movie night” Y/N’s Dad informed them.

“Thank you, Dad. Love you guys have a safe trip” their daughter pulled each of her parents into individual hugs.

Her Mom gives Shawn a hug as well “Love you Shawn, be good okay” he nods and returns the squeeze. Y/N’s family has always been there with open arms for the Hunter boy since they were kids. He even stayed with them for a while as well as the Matthews when his Dad went looking for his Mom a while back.

Y/N’s Dad opted out for the hug and gives Shawn a handshake instead saying “The Gore Saga huh, you’re a braver man than I am Shawn. I have no idea how she enjoys those movies”.

Shawn just laughed as the adults made their way out of the house.

Later after the pair have eaten and gotten everything set up; blankets and pillows on the couch, refreshments, and the rented VHS tape of ‘The Gore Saga: Knife to meet you’.

Shawn gulped on the couch while Y/N slid the tape into the VCR; she hurried back over to the couch excitedly and all of Shawn’s fear disappeared when she hopped onto the couch next to him. Her smile wider than ever and her head rested on his lap, he distracted himself from the film by running his fingers through her hair. Sometimes making short little braids then pulling them apart right after, and for the most part, his tactic worked. Until she sat up and stretched out next to him to make herself more comfortable, he didn’t have her touch to soothe him anymore.

(Warning descriptions of gore coming up)

After a few minutes a pretty gruesome scene unfolded on the screen in front of them; its the part of the movie where the killer gets one of the dumb ones who run into every trap he has set while trying to run away, and this guy was now being ran through a humongous factory meat grinder...and he’s dead. Blood, guts, and bones is all that comes out of the other end.

Shawn could no longer keep his composure he was bugging big time, but when he looked over at Y/N he saw the opposite expression on her face. Where his face was full of disgust and fear, hers, on the other hand, was full of glee and joy. Who would have known that the sweet Y/N Y/L/N was a gore fan, the same girl who cried when they were nine because some kids destroyed an anthill at recess.

Again he couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Y/N”? he softly pleaded her name.

She turned her body towards him her eyes barely leaving the screen she was so captivated.

“Yes, Shawnie” she continues.

“Could you please come back over here and let me hold you or you could hold me, Even better”! Shawn reached out for Y/N desperately.

Scooting back over to her guy she motions for him to lay on her lap and god does he! He clasps his arms around her left one holding it against his chest. She senses some of his discomfort, and she makes work by running her nails down his scalp and a rushed breath and hum escaped Shawn’s lips.

Putting her focus back on the TV while she continued soothing the boy who laid on her legs.

Another putrid scene of killings displays on the screen and Shawn jumps from underneath her.

“Shawn, Baby are you okay”? Y/N asks concerned her fingers brushing her sweet boys face.

“I’m sorry babe it’s just this movie is really scary, but you’re so into it I’m trying not to cover my face the whole time but- WHAT IS THAT”! Shawn screeches.

Y/N jumps at the shrill noise of his scream but cannot help but laugh shortly after.

He is just too adorable sometimes, she would have never thought her hot shot of a boyfriend would be squeamish of a little gore.

Never the less she smiled at him still clinging her arm to his chest while his head laid on her lap.

“Babe, are you okay,” she asked still giggling.

“Yes …” another blood splatter to the screen made Shawn jolt yet again. His eyes showed defeat as he finished “...No, I mean. This gore stuff isn’t exactly my favorite.

“Well, why didn’t you just tell me that earlier, Duckie” Shawn always had a soft spot for that pet name it was one she didn’t use often but when she did it made his heart flutter beyond words.

“I didn’t want to ruin your fun, Y/N/N,” he said sheepishly.

“Oh, baby. That’s very sweet of you but I have plenty of other movies we could watch. I’ll finish this one another time, no big deal” Y/N let out a breathy laugh at just Shawn being Shawn, and the whole ‘I’ll watch it because you enjoy it’ thing made her stomach flip.

Giving Shawn another option she says “How about a romantic comedy”? Shawn nodded his head frantically. He would deny it if anyone else knew but Y/N knew Rom/Coms were secretly his favorite.

Sadly he peeled his body away from hers so she could go and eject the tape and put the new one in. After sliding in the much less graphic film she was less than surprised that she saw Shawn waiting for her to cuddle him on the couch, he had moved from one end to the other where the couch had an ‘L’ shape so they could hold each other while still being able to watch the movie.

But she wasn’t complaining, whenever she got to touch Shawn in this sweet innocent way she felt like when you do when you’re at home safe and most of the time drowsy.

She laid there in between his leg; back laid back against his chest. He had his arms around her torso playing with her fingers that laid relaxed on her sides, and his face was buried into her hair.

“Shawn darling, what are you doing” she giggled at the tickle of his nose brushing her jawline while he smelled her cascading locks. “Mhm your hair smells so good, and it’s so soft.” his hands slip away from her sides as he starts to comb through the Y/C/H that covered Y/N’s shoulders. After he got all the small knots out, he started braiding her hair again but this time all together instead of little strands.

Y/N tried her best to pay attention to the love story in front of them but was more distracted by her own, right here in her basement. If she were coyer and the movie wasn’t on she would most likely jump this boy, just to shower him in kisses.

After a while long after Shawn had stopped playing with her hair, Y/N relaxed into his frame, her hands and legs tangled with his underneath the heavy but comfortable knitted blanket on top of them.

Then came a scene where the guy and the girl have their first kiss and with all of the emotion that’s been building up, they physically cannot keep their lips off of one another and a makeout session ensues.

Just thinking about Shawn kissing her made Y/N instantly blush, even if they were way past first kisses.

And now Y/N was the one who couldn’t hold it together anymore, she needed kisses Now.

Turning in Shawn’s arms she misplaces his head from the crook of her neck where every once and while leave soft little pecks across the splay of skin on her neck and jaw. And it was making Y/N’s body flush with anticipation, but nothing came of it.

Shawn looked surprised that Y/N had moved but all he softly said was “Baby whats wrong? Do you not like the movie”? And he tucked the loose hair around her face back behind her ear. His hand lingered on her cheek thumb grazing the almost invisible baby hairs that tickled while he does so.

Instead of answering his question Y/N leans in slightly, puts her arms around his neck and toys with the hair at the nape of his neck sending shivers down his spine.

Knowing what she wants, she makes eye contact with the beautiful boy in front of her and asks “Can I have a kiss please” with the softest voice because she is still afraid he might say no and he is allowed to say no.

Wasting absolutely no time he closes the gap between them as he cups her face with one hand and the other holding her lower back in a way to balance her almost. Their lips moved as one and Y/N couldn’t help but smile into the kiss a giggle about to pop because of her happiness.

But before she could, Shawn was laughing and he had to pull away to compose himself.

Y/N chuckled with him “What’s so funny huh”?

“You’re just so cute and polite. I love that you always ask me before kissing me. And honestly its sometimes surreal that you’re my girl ya know, I mean look at ya.”

“You aren’t so bad yourself Hunter. And I enjoy being ‘Your girl’ very much”.

Y/N fanned her hands out on Shawn’s chest keeping some distance between them while they spoke so she could see him properly.

Shawn leaned back in asked “May I kiss you, Princess” “Of course” she answered shortly attaching her lips back to his in a hurry.

It’s safe to say that the movie was long forgotten for the rest of the night, they were too wrapped up with each other.

#shawn hunter #shawn hunter imagine #shawn hunter x reader #shawn hunter fanfiction #shawn hunter fanfic #boy meets world #boy meets world imagine #boymeetworld #boy meets world fanfic #boy meets world one shot #imagine #imagines #fanfiction #writing #writer #fangirl #90s

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Santa Ana Winded (Gottrosé) - Joley

Summary: Rosé is visiting Los Angeles just as the infamous Santa Ana Winds are kicking into high gear. On paper, that’s fine, but staying with Mik certainly isn’t going to make handling the potential effects of the ‘devil winds’ any easier.

ao3 link

“Where are you staying, again?” Jan asked as he helped Rosé finish packing.

“Why is that relevant?”

Rosé’s brows rose in curiosity. “The fuck were you dreaming about at summer camp, huh?”

“That’s a tall order for you, babe. Good luck.”

——

“Hi, baby,” Rosé greeted with a fond laugh, picking Mik up and spinning him around quickly, then carefully setting him back down. “I missed you.”

“I don’t see the problem here, gorge,” Mik retorted flippantly as he pulled up in front of the house.

Rosé laughed softly as he got out and grabbed his things. “Of course you don’t,” he retorted with a dry laugh as he followed him inside.

——

“A dream, perchance?” Rosé chuckled softly and ran a hand through his hair, “because that would make two of us.”

Even during sex, little was said between them beyond whispers of praise or dirty talk. Their moans and whines were loud and passionate, culminating sharply when they rode out their orgasms in tandem.

Mik shifted over to Rosé, wrapping his arms around him and resting his head on his chest. “I know what you’re thinking,” he murmured. “Just… don’t say it.”

And Mik was right, so he didn’t.

——

“Nope, I didn’t even see Symone.”

Jan crossed his arms and arched his brow. “Come on, Rosie…”

Even though Jan suspected as much, hearing his friend make that confession still caught him by surprise. “Oh shit,” he gasped softly. “What are you gonna do?”

#rpdr fanfiction #rosé #gottmik #gottmik x rosé #canon compliant #smut #s13 #joley

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joon-ipersgirl · 4 years ago

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O1 - “singularity”

genre: strangers to lovers!au, angst, fluff

pairing: jimin x reader (f)

summary: they say home is where the heart is. you’re convinced yours was taken the day your father died. until you meet jimin.

you believe in love but after watching men cycle through your mother’s arms, rocky relations with ex boyfriends, and broken friendships, you no longer see it in your future. so much so, you never settle in one place long enough to create ties and call it home, choosing a job where you’re always on the go and on her own.

on a chance encounter on a flight from new york city to bali, indonesia, you meet. flustered by jimin’s flirty advances but understanding and good-natured tendencies, you start to fall. what starts off as a work-trip soon blossoms into a budding romance, but will jimin’s secret destroy the relationship before it’s had the chance to truly begin?

word count: 3.2k

warnings: mentions of anxiety, cursing a/n: welcome to bitter and beloved part 1 - singularity! this entire story is self-indulgent for me and i hope you guys will love the characters as much as i do. not much else to say here, but enjoy :) ofc thank you to vi for beta-reading as always.

full masterlist // series masterlist // next

For some people, 4 am was an ungodly hour. For some people, the idea of change was unthinkable. For some people, being alone was unbearable, but for you, you craved it. The silence of being the only one awake as you roamed the different studio apartments in the middle of the night. The freedom to come and go whenever you pleased. The ability to create your own routine. There was no one holding you back, no one holding you down, nothing to get tied up to.

You sat on the windowsill, a cup of black coffee in your hands, as you watched the city that never sleeps take a brief nap before she set off for the day. Raindrops slipped down the large bay windows as you sipped your first daily intake of caffeine. You enjoyed the quiet lull of the city during the early morning hours as some people were just waking for the day, the others just returning from the graveyard shift. You watched the almost microscopic bodies march down the sidewalk from the fourteenth floor like ants who marched along a picnic blanket.

The gentle buzz of your phone pulled you back into reality. You glanced down at the screen and saw the name Michael appear. You sighed. What could he possibly want now?

Michael: Remember, they want to see passion! Have a safe trip! [4:47]

You didn’t bother to respond. You placed your phone back onto the windowsill and rested your forehead against the cool glass, welcoming the contrast combined with the heat from the mug in your hands. Capturing passion wasn’t as easy as most people tried to make it seem. You couldn’t just yell “cut!” and try to shoot the scene again. Passion was as fleeting as it was enjoyable, only staying for a minute before it left you with a yearning for much more.

Finishing the remainder of your coffee, you washed the cup in the sink and returned it to its home in the cupboard. You pulled your oversized t-shirt over your head and neatly tucked it into your backpack. Dressing quickly, you grabbed your lone suitcase and backpack before heading out the door. The keys with the Empire State building keychain were left on the short table by the front door. Your time in this little home was up and it was time to find another. You hailed one of the infamous yellow cabs, your destination: John F. Kennedy International Airport.

The thirty-five-minute cab ride was uneventful and you tipped the driver your last few U.S. dollars for assisting me with my bag. A grin spread across your face as you entered the international departures terminal. If anywhere could be considered home for you, it would be an airport. There was nothing like entering an airport and seeing the hustle of people as they went on their way to whatever destination. The terminal was mostly empty as it was 5:14 am and most people would have had the sense to book a much later flight. But not you. No, this gave you the perfect opportunity to edit in peace. It also meant the lines for check-in were much shorter and you were grateful for not having to maneuver through the masses.

“Good morning. Passport or identification please?” Grace, the airline administrative assistant for Cathay Pacific Airways, asked you. Her blonde hair was smoothed back into a tight bun and her blue eyes sparkled much too brightly for your liking. You handed the thin book to her.

“You’re here quite early, aren’t you? Your flight doesn’t leave for another 5 hours!” she exclaimed as she read your flight information. You stared at her blankly. Her smile faltered as you didn’t respond. Clearly, you knew what time your flight would be leaving.

“Um, if you could please place your bag on the scale.” You did as you were told while she printed out your luggage tag and boarding passes. She didn’t speak as she attached the tag to your bag and placed it on the conveyor belt behind her.

“Have a good flight,” she said as she handed back your documents, her voice significantly less chirpy than before. You thanked her dryly and headed off to security.

Your stomach grumbled as you joined the short line and made a mental note to stop somewhere for some breakfast. As much as you hated it, you would have to use your travel-only credit card so you didn’t die before you’d even stepped foot on the plane. You groaned as you felt the vibration in your hand coming from your phone, wondering who could be calling you this early in the morning and what they could possibly want. It was 5:30 in the morning.

“Hello?”

“Y/N? Y/N, where are you?” Your mother. You sighed and shuffled the phone to rest between your shoulder and ear as you attempted to remove your laptop and cameras from your bag.

“New York,” You replied shortly. You were approaching the officer quickly.

“You weren’t going to call and tell me you were here?” she asked loudly into the phone. You rolled your eyes.

“It was a short business trip.” She snorted in response.

“Business trip? Is that what you call it? Y/N, you don’t have a real job. Baby, come home and let me help you,” she said in the most soothing tone she could muster. Her voice failed to offer any comfort. There were five people in front of you now. You had to go.

“You know that isn’t going to happen, Adele. Tell Richard I said hello.”

“I told you not to mention him to me!” she wailed. You cringed at the sound.

“Ah, he’s left, has he? Well, I too have to go. Goodbye, Adele,” you said calmly into the phone. One person was in front of you now.

“Y/N!” she screamed. You hung up.

The officer gestured for you to come forward and you stepped up, handing him your passport and boarding pass. Adele was a woman you no longer tried to understand. Though she was your mother - and you wondered how much truth to that there really was - you’d never had the best relationship. You reminisced on a younger you vying for her attention but it was always somewhere else, with someone else. You smiled sadly at the memory as the officer handed your documents back to you and told you to have a good day.

Juggling your phone, passport, and laptop was difficult enough when you remembered your camera bags were still in your backpack. Panic spread her fingers across your chest as you tried to grab enough bins to hold your stuff. Damn Adele and her breaking your security routine with her unhelpful, unscheduled phone call. Glancing over your shoulder, you did your best not to hold up the line as you fumbled to get both cameras out of their respective bags while toeing off your sneakers. You missed the way your backpack swung low on your shoulder, and a solo lens teetered on the edge as if it were deciding whether to jump or not. It did, gravity calling its name.

“Woah!” You gasped as you looked over your shoulder to see a man holding your Fuji 23mm lens in his palm.

“Shit!” you breathed out, taking it from his hand and carefully inspecting it for any damage. Fuck the line at this point.

“I think it’s okay,” he told you in a soft voice that you barely heard as you cradled the equivalent of $500 to your chest.

“Thank you,” you told him sincerely, finally looking at him. Well, his chest.

You blinked slowly. He was much taller than you expected. Past your hands, he also had sneakers on his feet. His hands were tucked into grey sweatpants that hugged the muscles around his thighs just as well as the graphic, black Sublime! t-shirt stretched across his chest. A single gold link chain settled against his collarbones that reminded you of your own gold anklet wrapped around your right foot. His neck was strong and met a sharp jawline. The smile he wore was almost as blinding as the lights. Almost.

“Miss, please keep the line moving,” another officer said, slightly annoyed as you stared at the stranger. More people were behind you now. Your face heated up as you nodded and carefully placed the lens in the bin with the rest of your camera equipment.

You joined the line to go through the body scanner, willing your heart to calm down from the embarrassment in your chest. You were making a big deal out of nothing, as per usual, and it was quite probable that no one had seen your little fumble. Except for the stranger behind you. You took a deep breath and raked your fingers through your short hair. It made no difference if he remembered the incident or not; it was over now. There really was no reason to dwell on it, but you knew you would, the anxiety getting the better of you.

After passing through the scanner, you started grabbing my belongings, shoving your feet into your sneakers and tucking your Sony Alpha 7R III into its camera bag and into your backpack. You double-checked the lens for your Fujifilm X-T3 - you could never be too thorough - and slipped that into its respective bag and into your backpack too. Michael could do without a few airport scenes for this next video as your stomach grumbled again. Food was more important.

Two buttery croissants and another large cup of coffee from Charlie’s Cafe saw you sat at Gate F17, headphones blasting, adding edits to your Saipan video. Though it was the most tedious process, video editing really allowed you to showcase your talent and calmed you down. There was just something about deciding which shot to use and how they should be sequenced along with the background music that was so fulfilling. As a self-taught videographer, it felt good to make a substantial living from doing something you loved. Not that it was enough for Adele. You shook the thought from your mind. You wouldn’t let her fuck up the rest of your morning, not after that earlier incident.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Boarding for flight 1167 to Bali, Indonesia, will begin in 15 minutes. All stand-by passengers who still need a seat, please come to the desk to receive one. Thank you,” a female voice boomed over the speaker. Was it really 10:50 am already?

“Um, excuse me?” You glanced up from the sandy beaches and blue skies on my laptop into the soft brown eyes of a small boy. You nudged your Beats headphones off your ears to hear him better.

“Yeah?”

“Um, what kind of camera is that?” His long-sleeved shirt was much too big on him; his fingers were barely visible as he pointed to your camera bag on the seat beside you.

“Uh, it’s a Fujifilm X-T3,” you replied, unsure if he had any idea of what any of that meant. “It’s really good for taking videos and stuff.” He nodded with a smile on his face.

“Can I see it?” Your heart constricted in your chest as you thought of all the possible things that could possibly go wrong from letting this young child hold $1300 in his hand. Unsurprisingly, there was quite a lot. “Please,” he added as if just remembering his manners. You inhaled deeply through my nose.

“Sure,” you said on the exhale. It couldn’t be that bad. His little face lit up as he pushed his sandy blonde hair out of his face. He was missing his two front teeth, and you grinned back at him. It must be great to be seven without a care in the world except wondering when the tooth fairy was going to bring your dollar and whether or not your mom would finally quit trying to feed you cauliflower.

“You sit here -,” you told him while shoving your laptop into your backpack, “- and I’ll show you how it works. You have to be real careful, though. Okay?” He nodded eagerly and clambered up into the now-vacated seat. His little legs barely reached the end of the chair and he waited expectantly as you pulled the camera from its bag.

“Alright. This is the “on” button. This is the shutter button; it’s how you can take all the pictures. And this little screen? This is where all your pictures and videos show up once you’ve taken them. And here, this is where you can change the lenses to take different shots,” you explained, guiding him through the different parts of the camera, turning it the different ways in his hands.

“Shots? Like guns?” he asked with wide eyes. His tiny hands could barely grip the camera as you sat cross-legged in front of him on the ground.

“No,” you giggled. “That’s what photographers call each picture that’s taken. It’s like another word for -”

“Jacob!” His petite frame snapped towards the voice. “Oh my gosh, Jacob. How many times do I have to tell you not to walk off?”

“But you were gone for so long!” he whined. “And I wanted to see the pretty lady’s camera.”

The young woman shook her head. “It wasn’t that long. Come on. We need to go back before Dad gets worried.” She turned to me, her short brown hair brushing against her white t-shirt. “I’m sorry about my brother bothering you.”

“I wasn’t bothering her!” Jacob yelled, his leg jerking in annoyance. You reached forward instinctively to secure your camera from his hands. There was no telling what kind of tantrum he would throw, and your camera didn’t need to be involved.

“Yeah, he wasn’t bothering me. Honestly. We had a great conversation, right?” He nodded quickly.

“Alright, time to say bye, Jacob.” His sister grabbed his arm, and Jacob tried with all his might to resist. It wasn’t much.

“No! I don’t wanna! I want to look at the pictures!”

“Hey,” you said, grabbing his attention as you crouched down to his level, your voice barely above a whisper. “How about we take a photo together so you can really see how this thing works, and I’ll send it to your sister so you can keep it?” He stopped flailing. His attention was firmly secured on the words coming from your mouth.

“What’s the catch?” he asked in all seriousness. His sister sighed in exasperation. She apologized again, but you shook it off.

“You go back with your sister and behave. No questions asked, no fighting, no screaming, and no yelling.” He eyed you warily, sizing up the deal.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to flight 1167. We are now boarding our passengers with wheelchair assistance and passengers with children under the age of two.” You raised my eyes at Jacob as the announcement rang out overhead.

“Times ticking, Jacob. That’s my flight.” His eyes widened, and he nodded his head so vigorously, you thought it might fall off.

“Okay!” he responded enthusiastically and rushed over to you. You stood and handed your camera to his sister, showing her where to look through and which button to press.

She snapped a few shots, some smiling and some of you two making silly faces as you stood in the middle of the seats. You smiled some more as Jacob laughed at the photos, and he pointed out his favorite ones, the sleeves of his shirt still falling to cover most of his hands. Seeing him like this made me think of your own brother and how he was doing, the smile on Jacob’s face very similar to what you remembered when he was around Jacob’s age. The two of you giggling to one another as you played your silly little childish games. The carefree-ness you’d felt while with Jacob dissipated, and the reality of being an adult settled back in like a fat cat on the porch on a hot summer’s day.

“You’re really gonna send them, right?” Jacob asked again. You reassured him once again.

“Yep, as long as you honor our deal,” You said. You tucked the camera carefully back into its bag and then into your backpack.

“You got it, lady!” he yelled and wrapped his pinky around your own. “Promise.” You smiled down at him and ruffled his hair. His sister thanked you again as she was finally able to drag him back to their family, no protests leaving the little boy’s lips. You grabbed your backpack and joined the line for the last group of passengers on flight 1167 to board, your heart much happier than when I had first sat down.

The worst part about boarding the plane had to be making sure you weren’t decapitating anyone with your carry-on. Well, maybe having everyone stare at you while you were walking down the aisle could make podium too. You sunk your teeth into your lower lip, adjusted your beanie on your head, and double-checked that your seat was 36A for the fifth time between scanning your boarding pass and actually getting on the plane.

You swept the numbers on the right side of the aircraft - the AB side - and almost stumbled into the person in front of you as you realized where your seat was located in relation to a certain camera-lens-saving stranger. Silently pleading with the Lord that the coffee rush was wearing off and that’s why you couldn’t read the numbers correctly, you continued down the aisle slowly. It seemed as though God had ignored this particular prayer. You tried to quiet the nerves in your chest as your over-anxious brain reminded you that you were reprimanded for holding up the TSA line because you were staring at the man in front of you. Like you currently were. Fuck.

“You’re in my seat,” you blurted out. He looked up at you.

“I’m sorry?” he clarified, closing the book he was reading.

“I mean, the window seat, it’s mine. Um, you’re kind of in the way,” you said. You glanced over your shoulder at the people waiting behind you.

“Oh, -” he shoved his book into the seatback pocket in front of him, “- my bad.”

Though the space was small, he slipped out of his seat with grace. Much more graceful than you in your haste to exit the aisle. He sat back down, and the rest of the people flowed past. You were acutely aware of how close the two of you were and shrank closer to the window. He cleared his throat and reached for his book, settling in while seeming to ignore you. You buckled yourself in tight and stared out the window. Of all flights that were leaving today, he had to be on the same one you were, going to the same place, sitting in basically the same seat.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for your patience. Welcome aboard flight 1167 with services to Hong Kong and Bali, Indonesia -” you started to tune the air stewardess out as she gave the usual spiel about safety and what not to do in an emergency.

“Is your camera okay?” His voice startled you out of your thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Your camera. Is the lens okay? I wasn’t able to ask you earlier.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you answered dryly.

“Good. That’s good,” he said with a soft smile.

15 hours and 55 minutes. That’s all you had to get through. You turned your head to stare out of the window, the scenery rolling past like the memory of this morning. Only 15 hours and 55 minutes to go.

full masterlist // series masterlist // next

#bts fanfction #jimin fanfic #jimin fluff #jimin angst #jimin x reader #jimin #bts fanfic #BTS jimin #park jimin #fic: bitter and beloved

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damianwaynerocks · 5 years ago

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Ghosts in Gotham

Danny Phantom / DC Comics

Dedicated to: @wisegirlandseaweedbrainforever

Summary: The Batfamily has been through their fair share of the supernatural. That’s why they originally weren’t worried whenever ghosts started showing up in Gotham City. Until one day, something happens; Batman is captured and taken into the Ghost Zone. With no way to go in there themselves, with no way to fight the ghosts inside, the bats decide to call the person who can; Danny Phantom. Together, Danny takes Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown and Damian Wayne into the Ghost Zone before the Batman is lost forever.

Words: 3599

Ch 1 Masterlist

Chapter 2:

"Wow. This is the gloomiest place I've ever been to." Danny rested his head against the window as he stared dully outside the vehicle.

"Now Danny, that is not true." Maddie looked over her shoulder at her son from the front seat. "We've been to some dark places in the Ghost Zone."

"I guess."

The Fentons were in a large white and green van. They had left Amity Park the day before and were finally arriving in Gotham City.

"Well, I think it's beautiful." Jazz said cheerfully. "My future home. Just look at it!" She gestured outside. Danny followed her gaze.

Dark clouds blocked out the sun above Gotham City. There weren't too many people walking around, probably due to the insanely high crime rate the city was infamous for. Danny raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. Sure."

"Don't be so glum, Danny boy!" Jack said, grinning at his son in the rear view mirror. "I've heard that there's ghosts afoot here! Maybe you can catch the ghost of Jason Todd!

Jason Todd was the second child of Batman, who died just a few years after being adopted. Recently, pictures had been popping up of a man who looked like an older version of Jason Todd walking around Gotham. A few people had even supposedly spoken to him, and apparently the man said his name was Jason. The Waynes vehemently denied the theory, but many people believed it.

Danny snorted. "I bet if I caught Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne would sue me."

Jazz scowled. "No way! He would be so grateful that you brought his son home! Bruce Wayne is a good man!" Danny laughed.

"We get it, you think Bruce Wayne is hot." he ducked a swing from his sister as he added to his father, "I don't think that guy is Jason Todd. It looks like a human, not a ghost."

"So did Johnny 13."

Despite his air of nonchalance, Danny was on alert. Gotham City had had an influx of ghost activity the past few weeks, and he knew he might have to go ghost at any moment.

He just hoped he would be able to eat first.

"I'm excited about the food," he voiced his thoughts, putting his hands behind on his head as he reclined his seat. "Like, this guy's a billionaire. The food is going to be so good."

"Oh ho ho, that's what I'm most excited for too! Uh, but not as excited as I am that Jazz is getting this opportunity!" Jack quickly added after Maddie's glare.

"Do you remember where the letter said our hotel is?" she asked. Jack nodded.

"Of course, Maddie!" he said. "It's right where Brucie said! Wayne Motel! And we get a master suite!"

"Sweet!" Danny and Jazz exclaimed simultaneously as the family pulled into the parking garage.

They opened the door to their suite, dragging their obscenely large amount of luggage with them. They had packed some ghost hunting gear just in case they encountered a ghost, and they took up a lot of room and a lot of suitcases.

Jack breathed in. "Home sweet Hotel!" he grinned. "Danny, Jazz, go pick a room! But not the one with the water bed, that belongs to your mom and me."

The two siblings exchanged a look and then darted in different directions. Danny skidded to a halt as he reached the last room at the end of the hall, and opened the door.

It was a massive room. It had marble floors, a canopy bed, a huge tv, and a private bathroom. Danny smirked, his eyelids relaxing. "This pleases me."

"Danny! Hurry up!" Jazz yelled two hours later. "The limo's gonna get here in twenty minutes!" Wayne Enterprises was sending each intern a limo to take them to Wayne Manor.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Danny grumbled, adjusting his bow tie. They were expected to wear the nicest clothes possible, so his parents had forced him into a suit. He sighed into the mirror. "Well," he muttered. "Here we go."

He met his family in the living room and grabbed a soda from the fridge. He was about to drink it whenever Jazz smacked it out of his hand. "Hey! What gives!?"

"You can't risk anything staining your suit!" His sister snapped. "Are you crazy? I don't want the Waynes to think I come from a weird family!"

Danny gave her an incredulous look. "Um, you are from a weird family. Your parents are ghost hunters and your brother is part ghost." Jazz scowled.

"Well, we don't need to make a scene!" she retorted. "Which means no going ghost."

"Fine, I won't go ghost unless I see one." Danny put his hands up in the universal don't shoot, I'm unarmed stance, almost unnerved by the ferocity in her eyes.

Jazz gritted her teeth. "Yeah, well, don't let anyone see you do it."

"Okay, if you say so."

Jazz nodded stiffly. She fished her phone out of her pocket as it vibrated. Her eyes lit up.

"Oh! The limo's here!" She opened the door excitedly and rushed down the stairs. She stopped at the entranceway to the hotel, Danny smacking into her at her sudden stop. She laughed nervously at her brother's glare. "Sorry. Just nervous," she cleared her throat and combed her fingers through her hair. "Let's go."

They arrived at the manor thirty minutes later, and Danny's eyes widened.

The manor was huge. Easily three times as large as his high school. He couldn't believe only one man a few kids lived in such a large house.

He was still gawking as he stumbled out of the limo and walked inside. His eyes widened even further as he took in his surroundings.

The manor seemed even bigger on the inside. It looked like a castle. And the people? They looked like royalty with how fancy they were dressed. And the food?

There was more food than he'd ever seen in one place.

"This. Is. Amazing." he whispered, almost salivating. Jazz glared at him.

"Please, don't make a scene," she hissed. "Eat like a normal person." Danny didn't seem to hear her, though, as he walked towards the food in a trance-like state.

The food bar had everything. Every type of meat he could name, as well as a plethora of vegan options. It was beautiful. And the smell? Danny had never smelled anything better in both his life and the afterlife.

His mouth watered as he picked up a plate and put a few chicken wings on it. "This is so cool!" he whispered to himself as he continued adding food. "This is amazing." he put a few ribs on his plate.

He inhaled the aroma coming off of his plate and sighed. The only thing that could mess this up is that rude kid Damian. he thought with a smile on his face.

"Excuse me." Danny jumped in surprise at the voice behind him, whirling around and spilling his food in the process all over the person in front of him.

The person in front of him? Damian Wayne himself. Danny chuckled nervously.

"Oh, uh- hey Mr. Wayne! Or is it Damian? I'm so so sorry, please let me clean that up." He stammered as he used his napkin to try to wipe the food off of Damian. The latter scowled, clenching his fist.

"Don't bother," Damian snapped, slapping Danny's trembling hands aside. He looked down at his filthy suit in disgust. "I cannot believe somebody so incompetent at the mere act of standing was allowed in!" he shoved Danny aside as he stomped towards a door that Danny hadn't previously noticed.

Danny winced, closing his eyes tightly as if to shield himself from what had just happened.

"Don't mind him," another voice from behind him sighed. Danny turned around, hoping it wouldn't be a Wayne that saw him piss off the youngest.

But of course, Danny had never had the best of luck.

Tim Drake-Wayne, the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, was smiling at him. "He's just in a bad mood because he isn't allowed to go on a business trip with us."

"So, you're not mad? I'm not kicked out or anything?" Danny asked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he knelt down to clean the food off of the ground. Tim knelt down beside him, assisting him in cleaning up.

"No, you're good," he reassured him. "I'm Tim Drake-Wayne." He balanced on his heels as he held his hand out for Danny to the shake. The latter grasped his hand.

"Danny Fenton. My sister has an internship with Wayne Medical." Tim's eyes flickered with something Danny didn't recognize before he smiled again.

"It looks like you got sauce on your jacket," Danny looked down and grimaced as he realized Tim was right, but before he could say anything, Tim continued. "Here, I can get you another one. Follow me." He stood up, extended a hand to help Danny off of the floor and led him to the door Damian had stormed into.

They stepped into a large room with velvet seats and two pool tables. Tim walked into a nearby closet and pulled out another jacket that matched what Danny had on. "Here you go," Tim said as he tossed the jacket to him. "Catch."

"Thanks," Danny said as he caught the jacket, slipping it on. "You're a lifesaver, my sister would have killed me."

"I know the feeling, one time I embarrassed Damian by moonwalking out of movie theater and he chased me with a kitchen knife when we got home."

Damian ran a hand through his hair. "And that is why that kid scares me."

"He's not that scary once you get to know him," Tim shrugged, and motioned for Danny to follow him. "Come on dude, let's go." Danny blinked. Did arguably the richest seventeen-year-old in the world just call him dude?

The pair walked outside, Tim leading him to the rest of the Fentons, who were chatting with Bruce Wayne. Jazz turned around and waved him over.

"And this is my little brother Danny!" she introduced through gritted teeth. "Where you been, little brother?"

Before Danny could think of an excuse, Tim spoke up. "Oh, he was just helping me with something."

"Yeah," Danny agreed with a relieved smile. Jazz smiled.

"Oh, well, yeah, that's Danny! Always being helpful." she chirped. Danny sat down in the seat beside her and clasped his hands together, tuning into the conversation.

"Yes, Jasmine has always been passionate about helping people," Maddie said, smiling at the billionaire. "She's always known that she's wanted to be a neurosurgeon!"

"That's great!" Bruce responded, flashing a bright smile. "That's exactly what we're looking for here; driven people. People with a passion for helping others." His icy blue eyes rested on Danny. "How do you like the food, Mr. Fenton?"

"Oh, uh, it's great, Mr. Wayne!" Danny stuttered as he smiled nervously. "Best food I've ever had. And I should know because I definitely ate some!"

"That's great!" Bruce replied. "You look like you're an athlete. Do you play any sports?"

Danny had an athlete's body because of how often he fought ghosts. That was the closest thing he had to sports. "Well, I really like e-sports!" he raised his shoulders and smiled nervously as he answered.

Bruce chuckled. "So does my son, Tim." he then turned his attention back to Jazz.

Danny breathed a sigh of relief, sliding down a bit in his chair. He felt a sharp, cold burst in his chest as he breathed out a wisp of blue vapor.

There was a ghost nearby.

"Hey, uh," Danny stood up from the table. "I have to go to the bathroom." With a final smile at Bruce Wayne, Danny quickly left the ballroom and went through the door he and Tim had gone through.

Danny shut the door behind him, and in a bright ring of light, he transformed into the white-haired green-eyed Phantom. "Okay," he muttered, "Where are you?" He turned his body intangible and flew through the wall. He looked both ways as he entered into a massive hallway the length of a football field, with many doors on either side. "Great. This place is a maze."

Danny's eyes shot to his right as he sensed the ghost. He walked that way, still intangible, into a library. Danny froze as he spotted a butler, but continued on his way as the man walked right through him.

He saw a glowing light through one of the shelves and shot through the books. He skidded to a halt as he saw-

"Box Ghost!" Danny yelled, "Are you kidding me? You got the worst timing, pal."

Box Ghost turned around and flinched. In a blink of an eye, Box Ghost had disappeared through the floor. Danny followed suit and went to punch the ghost, before freezing. Box Ghost had vanished, but that wasn't the reason Danny was in shock.

He was in a cave. A dark cave with a plethora of high-tech machines. To his left was what looked like a row of memorials. There was one that had an old Robin suit, the one without pants, encased in glass. Another had a Batman suit. Danny's eyes widened as he realized where he must be.

His head was spinning, and he took a step back. The Bat Cave. He was in the Bat Cave. Bruce Wayne was Batman. And if Bruce Wayne was Batman, then that meant that Damian Wayne was Ro-

"No!" an angry voice interrupted the silent breakdown. Danny, still intangible, floated down to the bottom of the stairs in front of a large computer. Danny's eyes widened again as he saw an even better sight;

"Cheese Viking!" he yelled, and yelped in shock as Damian plunged a knife directly where Danny's chest was. Thankfully, the knife went straight through him, but it startled Danny enough to revert back to human form.

"You!" Damian snarled as he stood up. "How did you get in! This is a secure compound, you should not have bee-"

"Dude, that's the newest Cheese Viking!" Danny interrupted, his eyes still trained on the screen. "They were all sold out when I tried to get them!"

"Yes, well, I did not wait and set an alarm so I would know what time to order. That's called being prepared."

"Well you sure are luc-" Danny's jaw dropped. "Wait wait wait hold on hold on." He put his hands on his head as he paced back and forth. "You're Robin? This is the Bat Cave? Bruce Wayne is Batman!? Tucker was right!?"

"You're Phantom!?" Damian said as he realized who he was with. He hadn't seen a photo of Danny as a human before, as he had been too busy memorizing what he looked like as a ghost.

"Oh. I see you've found it." Tim said from behind Danny. Danny's eyes were still as wide as saucers.

"When did you get here? And does this mean you're the restaurant guy!?"

"Yes," Tim answered tightly as Damian snickered. "Yes, Red Robin."

"This is insane." Danny put his hands down, bringing his pacing to a still. "I'm in the Bat Cave! Wait, what do you mean 'found it?'" he added, frowning at Tim.

"I was going to show you later, but you found it on your own," Tim replied with a shrug.

"Why were you going to show me?"

"Because we need your help."

Danny blinked. "Me? Batman needs help from me? Is it about the ghosts?"

"Bingo," Tim snapped his fingers, pointing a finger gun at Danny. "He really does. He's missing."

"What?" Danny asked, confused. "But I just saw him up there. He was fine."

"No, that was our brother, Dick," Tim explained. "He has a mask that makes him look like Bruce."

"Oh."

Tim put his hand on Danny's back, leading him towards the Bat Computer. Tim sat down in the chair, and pulled something up on to the screen. It was a video from Bruce's camera that was hidden in his cowl, which let the video feed of his night stream to the Bat Computer.

"We were fighting a ghost a few nights ago, whenever one grabbed him and pulled him into the portal," Tim narrated as the video showed exactly that. "We tried to follow him, but it just bounced us out. We've concluded that the only way a human or anything earthly could pass through needs a ghost to accompany them."

"That's not true," Danny said, crossing his arms. "Mine at home will let anything in. Trust me, I've lost things to the Ghost Zone." His mind flashed to when Jack's anniversary gift for Maddie had gone into the portal, and how chaotic things got whenever Danny tried to get it back.

"Well, it is true," Damian retorted, copying the action. "We would know. We've seen it. Yours must be different."

"So you need me to take you guys into the Ghost Zone to find him." It was more of a statement than a question. "I can do that, but that video didn't show who took him, and the Infi-Map doesn't work on humans."

"Infi-Map?" Tim asked.

"Yeah, it's a map that takes you anywhere you want to go. You can find anything in the Ghost Zone with it, besides anything with a heartbeat."

"Well, with or without it, we need your help," Tim turned around to face Danny, turning away from the computer. "He's been in there for three days. We need to find him."

"Yeah, I can help," Danny said instantly. "But we'll need some weapons for you two. The Infi-Map will take us to my place, and we can get some from there."

"No, Damian isn't going-" Tim began, but was cut off by Bruce walking down the stairs to join them.

No, not Bruce, Danny reminded himself as the man took off his bowtie and his face shifted to that of another. Dick Grayson.

"Damian's going," Dick said. "I know we agreed that he wasn't, but Jason can't go now. Something about Artemis, so Damian's taking his place.

Lovely, Danny thought, wincing at the idea of Damian snapping at him in the middle of a fight. He blinked as another thought entered his mind. "Jason? You don't mean Jason Todd, do you?"

"Yes sir, we do," Dick replied.

"He's alive?"

"Yeah, he was resurrected a couple of years ago. Long story. Don't ask him about it, he gets grumpy." Dick stretched his arms as he made his way to the group. "Steph is almost here, too, but she got delayed by some guy trying to mug an old lady."

"What a coward," Damian said.

"The lowest of the low." Tim agreed.

"So," Danny counted on his fingers, "Me, Tim, Damian, and someone named Steph?"

"Yep," Dick answered, and looked up as the group heard a motor running. "And here she is."

A teenage girl with blonde hair in a purple Bat-suit that drove into the cave. She skidded to a halt, and hopped off. Seeing Danny, she smiled a wide toothy grin.

"No way!" Stephanie Brown, yelled as she walked closer. "You're Danny Phantom! I'm a huge fan!" She encased one of Danny's hands with both of her own. "Stephanie Brown, also known as Batgirl, one-time Robin even though nobody ever remembers, nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you!" Maybe Damian wouldn't try anything if Danny had someone who liked him, someone he could use for backup.

"Alright, kiddos," Dick said, putting his tie back on, turning himself back into Bruce Wayne. "Suit up and then you better go. Bruce doesn't have much time to spare."

"Right," Danny said with a nod, simultaneously transforming back into Phantom. He pulled out the Infi-Map from his pocket. He looked back up, surprised to see Tim and Damian in their respective vigilante suits.

Holy fast dressing, Batman.

"All of you, grab on to me," Danny said as he unrolled the map. "Take me home!"

At the word, the map pulled the four out of the cave and into Gotham City at hyperspeed. The map found the portal and went through. In an instant, the foursome fell out of the portal in Danny's house, the Infi-Map having dragged them through the Ghost Zone in milliseconds.

"Home sweet home," Danny said as Tim, Stephanie, and Damian got to their feet.

"Oh, wow," Stephanie groaned. "That was crazy. Is this how Bart feels?"

Damian was already wandering around. "Hey," he turned his attention to Danny, "What are the chances you have a ghost sword?"

Danny waved him to the right, and the boy's eyes gleamed at the pile of swords Jack had been making. Tim and Stephanie were looking around too, picking up various weapons. Tim was putting grenades and other weapons into his utility belt, Stephanie doing the same.

"Fenton," Danny turned around to face Damian behind him, who had found a sword of his liking. "Do you have any capri-suns in this house?"

"Uh, yeah, upstairs in the fri- hey, you don't know where the kitchen is!" Damian had sprinted up the stairs as soon as Danny had confirmed that there were capri-suns in the house.

"I'll find it!" Damian's voice could be faintly heard. Danny rolled his eyes.

Tim had found a bo-staff, and Stephanie was looking at one of the vehicles. "What's this?" she asked.

"It's the Specter Speeder 2.0," Danny answered. "It's what we're taking. It's a ship that can fly in the Ghost Zone."

"Is it ready?"

"Yeah."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Damian, who was now sporting a mini cooler filled with capri-suns, opened the door to the Speeder. "Let's go save Father."

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it-may-be-dull-but-im-determined · 4 years ago

Note

*slams fists on table* French Kiss AU!!

(@albatrossisland also asked about this one, thank you as well!!)

Oh god I keep trying to write this (mostly because @twelvemonkeyswere and @aviss have told me it’s a good idea?) and I think we even managed to make the deeply unco-operative Westeros geography work in the end... but I also keep stalling at the part where Robb kind of fits the Charlie role in my head better than, um, anyone like Hyle (Robb literally marries someone else in canon and he has a family Brienne might actually be slightly frantic at losing). Aaand my infamous hatred of Brienne/Robb has made me crash out of this a couple of times already (no, really, I should keep trying because there are so many scenes that would be lots of fun and the idea of Jaime as Luc and the Lannisters having a kinda chilled vineyard just always cracks me up...)

***

"Of course, Ms Tarth - there's a full refund back in your account as we talked about. And can I say again that we're so sorry we couldn't be of help this time."

"Oh no, that's absolutely fine!" Brienne lied through her teeth. The last two afternoons at the North's best (and only) flying phobia course were not something she wanted to dwell on. "It's not you. It's me. I'm sure your course is great, for... other people." Normal people. People who didn't have reasons to have nightmares about this kind of thing. She was quite happy sticking to trains, and boats and cars and... well, basically anything that didn't involve flying.

"Thank you so much," she said, and ended the call.

Somewhere behind her she heard Robb sigh. Again. "It's really not even that long a flight, Bri--"

She took a deep, calming breath and turned around to face her fiance, and their half-packed suitcases. "I tried, okay. I did try. And it's fine, you know. We can still get the money back for my ticket, you're there for a conference, anyway, so you'll be stuck talking about medical stuff all day, and--"

#pearly--rose #albatrossisland #also IT'S A COMEDY AND I'M REALLY NOT FUNNY 🤣🤣#my deep and abiding love for this film keeps overriding my better judgement idk #wip basket meme

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melancholicumsomnia · 4 years ago

Text

[FIC] A Little Miracle In The Volume Part 7

A/N: Here’s Part 7 of my fic contribution to PEDRO PASCAL APPRECIATION WEEK 2021 of @pedrohub! The #ppaw2021 theme of Day 6 is Pedro + Free Choice. I’d rather not say anything more about the conclusion to this little story.

To @pedrocentric and the few folks who have followed this story, here’s the last part. Thank you for liking my story! I hope you enjoyed this little yarn! (But, now, I need to get back to work.)

PREVIOUS PARTS

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

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

A Little Miracle In The Volume

Rory

Part Seven

With a heavy sigh, Pedro tossed the script he was reviewing on top of the table. Who was he kidding? He already memorized his lines and knew them by heart.

For the umpteenth time, he glanced at his bags, all packed up and ready for his flight to London very early tomorrow morning. This was his last day of shooting on The Mandalorian. The makeup artist had already applied the fake blood for the scene where his helmet will be removed. But, if he were to be honest with himself, he didn’t want to leave. Nothing would make him happier than to have even a few precious offscreen minutes with the Child.

Ever since that infamous ‘Baby Snatching Incident’, Pedro no longer pursued his desire for more quality time with Grogu. He just didn’t have the energy to deal with Werner’s eccentric behavior anymore. If he wanted the Child to himself, fine. At least, with his character having perished through Mando’s blaster in Season 1, any further appearances in Season 2 was unlikely.

The past couple of days, Pedro distanced himself from the German filmmaker and the baby, but it always broke his heart to hear Grogu’s sad, questioning whines whenever he was in the vicinity. Every time this happened, he would head straight back to his trailer and lock the door.

One evening, Werner was about to walk past Pedro’s closed door, as he headed for his own trailer. He heard the old man say, “What is wrong, little baby? Why have you become so silent now, so unresponsive? Is it because...of him?”

Werner paused at Pedro’s doorstep. From his seat opposite the door, Pedro listened to those soft tentative knocks, but he didn’t move to open it. From the windows, he saw Werner trudge off, shaking his head sadly.

Pedro buried his face in his hands to stem the flow of tears from his eyes. It’s only a few hours left. I can deal with this.

But as he lifted his head, Pedro saw Werner walking by. Quietly, he peered outside his window. The German filmmaker was leaving, that much was obvious, judging from the small suitcase he held in his left hand. What caused his eyes to widen in alarm was the sight of the little green figure with unmistakable large ears cradled in the crook of his right arm.

“No!” Pedro gasped, as he raced for the door. “No, you’re not taking him away!”

Emerging from his trailer, because his eyes were focused on that departing figure, Pedro didn’t see the props men carrying a large piece of plywood.

As he made to run after Werner, BAM!

“Oh my God! Are you alright, sir?”

“His nose is bleeding! Get a medic now!”

Although his vision was red from the pain, Pedro ignored the panicked props men and hurried to the Volume, clutching his aching nose which was bleeding from a cut on the nasal bridge where he had collided with the plywood. As he entered the studio, there were shocked cries from everyone at the sight of him.

But Pedro went straight to Jon and Dave. “You must stop him!” he cried desperately. “He’s running away with the baby!”

“Who--” Jon stuttered as the blood from Pedro’s nose dripped on his arm.

“Werner! He’s taking the baby away from me! Please don’t let him get away! PLEASE!”

After that, there was a huge flurry of activity around him. Dizzy and in pain, the only word that registered inside his head from all that shouting was “hospital”.

“No, I can’t! No hospital! Grogu...please…”

And then, there was nothing but darkness.

* * * * * * * * * *

When Pedro woke up, he was at the hospital. Sitting up from the gurney in the Emergency Room, he reached up to his nose, grimacing as he felt the seven stitches. Thankfully, there was no pain, which meant that the local anesthetic the doctor injected him with was still working.

Before he could call a nurse so he could leave and get back on set, the curtains surrounding his gurney slid open and Werner went inside, pulling them shut again.

“Jon told me what happened to you,” Werner began hesitantly. “I never had the Child with me. I left him with Dave in the Volume. What you saw me carrying was a maquette of the baby, a little...souvenir.”

Pedro was no longer able to hold back his pent up emotions. “I give up, Werner. You don’t need to leave the set. You can have the baby all to yourself. I don’t want to fight with you anymore. He’s all yours!”

Lowering his head, Pedro let his bitter tears flow freely, his body shaking with his sobs. He didn’t care what the other man thought of him. For a few minutes, Pedro wept, letting all the hurt and pain gush out of him.

When his sobs finally subsided, he lifted his gaze, expecting the German filmmaker to be gone. But Werner still stood before him, tears glimmering in his eyes as well.

“I am sorry,” Werner said in all sincerity. “I know that these words may be insufficient or difficult to believe, but I am truly sorry for all the pain I caused you.”

“Why, Werner? Why did you do this to me? Did I offend you in any way?”

“I don’t know how to explain this to you.”

“Misty told me that you have a good reason. I want to hear it.”

Werner breathed in deeply. “I grew attached to the baby, I will admit that much. But the first time we met, the very first time that you saw the Child, I could see that you saw it as nothing more than a cute puppet, a novelty. You also said that you will only be filming one episode for this season, and it happens to be the last one. How can you project the image of a good father if you won’t be a part of the development of both your characters?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! You could’ve given me the opportunity to bond with the baby, but you kept on hogging him to yourself!”

“It had been my intent to deprive you of the baby in order for you to recognize its value as your own child and also your own worth as a potential parent for it.” Werner’s lips pouted. “It’s a difficult lesson I learned from meddling in-laws, and I was playing that part with you. Nevertheless, I saw early on that you possessed that paternal instinct, perhaps because of your experience in caring for your sister’s children. In the end though, my good intentions turned sour because I became jealous.”

“Jealous? Jealous of what?”

“Oh, Pedro!” Werner exclaimed as he sat down beside the distraught younger man. “Surely you have noticed the little miracle that has been going on around you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have heard the murmurings from the cast and crew, I’m sure. How the Child would move on its own and make sounds that it is incapable of doing.”

Pedro shook his head. “It’s the puppeteers working him in the background. I used to call them the ‘Child’s Entourage’. I saw how they made the baby move whenever you’re together.”

“Ah, but it is not the case with the two of you. When it is alone with me or anyone else in the cast and crew, the baby is just an ordinary doll. But not with you, Pedro, NEVER WITH YOU!”

Werner gripped his arms tightly. “I accused you once of not being able to commit to the fantasy of your being his father.” A broad smile formed on Werner’s face. “Instead, the Child committed himself to your reality, so that he can be a real baby to you! The Child is alive, Pedro, because of you! Best of all, you have reacted to him in both words and deeds. In the past few days, I saw how much you cared for the baby, how much you loved him. The kind of love that only a real father can give.”

The German filmmaker straightened up. Brushing his tears away with the back of his hand, he said proudly, “Go to that beautiful baby, Pedro.” Werner gave him a wink. “Be a father to him. Consider it as practice for when you decide to have a real family someday.”

* * * * * * * * * *

As soon as Pedro returned to the set, he was immediately met by Jon who said in concern, “I think you should rest today. I could call up Warner Bros. to explain that you had an accident here. It’s just a one day delay.”

“I agree with Jon,” Dave concurred with his fellow producer and director. “You really should take it easy.”

“No, I’m fine,” Pedro reassured him. “Let’s make the most of this,” he gestured to his injured nose. “It makes my injuries more authentic.”

“Are you sure?” Gina asked.

“You don’t have to force yourself if you don’t feel up to it,” Carl put in as well.

“I’m okay.” Pedro’s eyes fell upon the tiny figure in puppeteer Mike Manzel’s arms. “I’m sure Grogu would want us to go through this scene together.”

Jon nodded and patted Pedro’s shoulder. “You’re a trooper, man.” Turning to the assembled crew, he declared, “The baby is Number One on the call sheet today. So let’s take the time to do that right. Let’s give ourselves plenty of footage.”

Mike set the Child down on the floor, the guiding rods attached to his arms and hands.

“Remove those things, Mike,” Pedro called out to the puppeteer. “Let Grogu do it on his own. He knows what to do.”

“But, he can’t…”

“Trust me.”

There was a brief pause and then Mike removed the rods. As he took a step backward away from the puppet, to everyone’s astonishment, Grogu slowly turned his head toward Pedro, a questioning look on his face. Mike turned to his fellow puppeteers, who shook their heads and laid down their controls.

“Did Dave and Jon show you what to do, Grogu?” Pedro asked the little creature.

Grogu smiled and cooed in assent.

Pedro looked at Taika whose mouth was as wide as a fish’s. “He’s all yours, Taika.” Putting on the helmet that was handed to him by a props guy, he then sat down on the floor, laying his body over a piece of panelling, with Gina hovering over him.

At those words, the director snapped back to attention. “Okay, let��s have the Incinerator Trooper walk into the cantina, ready to blast away our heroes with a flamethrower. The Child will then use the Force to hold back the flames and then, with a flick of his hand, send the fire back to the trooper. Ready...ACTION!”

Everybody watched breathlessly as the filming of the scene commenced. To their amazement, Grogu followed Taika’s instructions, turning his little head at the sounds of gunfire and explosions. When the Incinerator Trooper appeared, he took tiny steps forward, placing himself in front of Pedro. As the extra went into the motions of firing the flamethrower, Grogu closed his eyes and raised both arms. His whole body trembled as he pretended to hold back raging flames. At Taika’s signal, he flicked his hand, and the extra was yanked outside the building with a cable as though he were thrown back by the resulting blast.

Then, it was Pedro’s turn. As the helmet was lifted from his head, he began to breathe rapidly, his face projecting his fear and vulnerability as he gazed at the prop that served as the robot, IG-11.

“You have suffered damage to your central processing unit,” Taika intoned for IG-11 from his director’s chair.

“You mean my brain,” Pedro told the robot. To which the robot replied, “That was a joke. It is meant to put you at ease.” When Pedro raised both eyebrows as the ending to the scene, Taika called, “Cut! Perfect!”

As Pedro was helped to his feet, he immediately looked for Grogu. He found the Child lying down on the floor, motionless and utterly devoid of life.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was late in the evening when Pedro emerged from his trailer with his trusty backpack slung over his back. His flight for London was leaving in two hours.

Entering the Volume, he saw that the crew were still working, preparing for the next day’s filming. The puppeteers were sitting around the puppet, checking its mechanics.

“Guys, may I have a moment alone with the kid?” Pedro asked politely.

The puppeteers smiled and nodded, standing up in unison and heading off toward one of the set pieces to talk.

Pedro knelt before the pram and smiled at the baby. “I guess this is goodbye for now, Grogu. But I promise you, the next time I’m here, we’ll have more time to spend with each other. Would you like that?”

But the Child didn’t respond. He just stared blankly at him through those round, brown eyes.

“I know you’re alive, Grogu,” Pedro whispered conspiratorially. “I want you to do a little something for me before I go. I want you to call me by my name. Pedro. You can do it, I know it. Pe-dro. Come on.”

To Pedro’s delight, the baby’s head moved, his sweet eyes blinked up at him. His tiny lips parted and quivered to reveal the cutest teeth.

“Come on, Grogu. Pe-dro. Pe-dro.”

For a long moment, the Child just moved his lips as if testing those two syllables.

“Pe...dro.”

“Patu!”

That high pitched exclamation caused everybody in the room to stare at them in wonder and disbelief.

“What did you say?”

“Patu!”

“No, it’s Pedro. Repeat after me. Pe…”

“Peeee…”

“...dro.”

Silence as the Child tried to pronounce that last syllable. Unable to get through the “dr” sound, Grogu spritzed a raspberry.

“Pe…”

“Peeeeee…”

“...dro.”

“PATU!”

Pedro grimaced at that baby version of his name. “Really? Is that what you want to call me?”

“PATU! PATU! PATU!” Grogu cheered gleefully, clapping his little hands.

Turning to the assembled crew members, Pedro said with great pride, “You see that, guys? The kid gave me my own baby name!”

As the crew laughed, Pedro pressed his forehead to Grogu’s tiny brow and whispered, “I love you, son. I’ll see you soon.”

Grogu sweetly kissed him on the tip of the nose and whispered back, “Patu!”

THE END

#ppaw2021 #miracle in the volume fic #real person fic #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #pedrohub #pedrocentric

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heythrrdelilah · 5 years ago

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In the Dark (Sam Winchester x Reader) Chapter 4

Warnings: Violence, fluff, food, mention of sex, tension

Word Count: 3,647

A/N: I’m sorry this took so long, I’ve been extremely busy and let this fic slip past me. I hope this chapter makes up for it. I am always open to suggestions on how to improve or ideas for the future, just send them in the ask and for which fic! I do throw in some stuff for Dean lovers here and there too.

Chapter 3 can be found here

Chapter 4

“Wow,” You gloomily replied, “I’m sorry to hear about your parents. I could never imagine watching your brother go through all of that or even what you have been through, all these years.” He half smiled in response, “It’s not so bad. You learn to appreciate the things going right for you.” His words were wise. You often lived by that statement, coming from a bad background yourself. You nod and move to look out to the balcony. The view from your room wasn’t great but it was still breathtaking. You opened the glass sliding door and peered out at the mountains. The night sky met the snowy peaks, along with lights from the skii lodge. It looked like a scene from a movie.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” You finally speak with a sigh. You felt a fabric being placed gently over your shoulders. You looked down to see Sam had placed your jacket around you. He seemed too sweet for this line of work. Hunters normally have a cold breeze in their gaze, a glimmer of loss. Sams stare felt warm. So warm, in fact, that you weren’t able to feel the brisk winter night outside just by looking at him. Your statement seemed to take him by surprise in the silence, "uh-oh… the view. Yeah.“ He looked out to the mountains, then back at you. "I’m really sorry about Dean,” He spoke placing an arm against the opening of the door. You shook your head, “Sam, you’re not responsible for his behavior. He’s actually acting pretty normal for a hunter. I mean, come on, I’m solo. Even if he weren’t acting like every other big headed hunter who thinks he’s responsible to be the world’s savior, I presume, it’s not on you. Shake the weight off.” You nudge his side, laughing and shaking your arms. He looked down at you and chuckled. “You’re cute, ” He spat out without hesitation. Your eyes widened for a moment before you looked back to the mountains, “Not so bad yourself Winchester."

The next moment happened so quickly, that you weren’t even fully conscious of the situation as it was happening. Sam’s lips were soft to pair with the lingering flavor of a vanilla latte. It felt as if the pair of lips against yours, fit like a puzzle piece. However, after a few short, too short, seconds, Sam’s lips were pulled away, but the ghost touch had lasted a few seconds more. The look in his eyes were apologetic. "I’m sorry. You seem like a careful person and I didn’t mean to break a boundary. I usually don’t do… that. We just met. I’m-” You cut off his rambling with a tug on his shirt. Him being taller than you, you had to have him lean down and what better way than to pull his shirt? You placed a gentle peck on his cheek, closed the sliding glass door, and turned the TV on in the room.

“No worries. I don’t normally kiss back. Guess you have an effect on me, ” Did you admit that out loud? What had gotten into you? Too late now, you thought to yourself, might as well embrace it. He chuckled, sitting on your bed, "yeah… I would have to say the same.“ You flipped through the TV, trying to ignore any awkward silence. Nothing was on. Hunters come and go. Always on the move. Even if you did act on your sudden liking to Sam, he would be gone after this job. You have heard of the infamous Winchester brothers before, any hunter who hadn’t would be lying. They have saved the world several times and are humble about doing so. For you to be on a case with the Winchesters was intimidating, but it was only for a short time. You had to remember that before allowing this crush to form into something deeper. “Y/N, I think I’m going to go back to my room. Meet downstairs for some coffee in the morning?” Sam asked, pushing himself off of your bed and making his way to the door. You nod once, then return back to flipping through channels. It must have been late, because of the fact that only one channel was not running infomercials, but it was Gilmore Girl Reruns.

Just as the episode was halfway through, a knock came on your hotel door. You walked over and opened to a nervous Sam. "So, Dean found company and locked me out of our room,” He was scratching his neck, chuckling nervously. You stepped to the side, allowing him an entry and closed the door behind the both of you. "You can have the bed, just give me a pillow and the comforter, “ You reached for the pillow and placed it on the floor. He shook his head, "no. That’s not very gentlemanly of me. I’ll take the floor.” You flicked your brow at him, "I offered. So take the bed,“ You demanded. He raised his hands up in defeat. "Can we change the show though? I don’t really care for the Gilmore clan,” He reached for the remote but you snatched it off of the bed first.

You looked between the tv and him. This is the episode Dean and Rory are fighting over the fact Dean likes the idea of a house wife. You saw a shocking resemblance between Sam and this Dean character. You paused the cable TV. “Sam, is it because you kind of look like the Dean character?” You teased making a fake pout. He shook his head, rolling his eyes, "no I don’t now give me that.“ He reached for the remote but you pulled it away quickly, pointing at the screen. "Yeah I think you’re right, Dean character is cuter, ” You teased, smiling with raised eyebrows. He reached for the remote and you turned to have your back facing him. He reached around you, his muscular arms almost wrapped completely around your torso, which meant he was leaning over. He grabbed the remote from your grip but wrapped his arms around you anyways.

As quickly as they were placed there, they were removed, though you wish they weren’t. “Uh, I’m going to shower. Change the channel. I’ll even pay for something On Demand,” You quickly moved to your bags and pulled out your makeup baf that held your face wash, toothbrush, toothpaste, and makeup. Then you pulled out your fuzzy pajama pants and oversized T-shirt. You rushed to the bathroom and locked the door. You leaned your back against the door and starred up to the ceiling, remembering the warm embrace that was just upon you.

Your stomach fluttered and you attempted to physically shake that feeling off. Sam made you nervous, which meant you were vulnerable. To a complete stranger. He was nice, intelligent so far, and extremely attractive. However, yes, he was a stranger. A stranger who you let sleep in your room. You weren’t sure if it was from the anger at yourself or intrusively inappropriate thoughts that came along with Sam, but you were heating up and needed to jump in the shower to cool off.

Unlike most women, you showered rather quickly. The washing your face time part took the longest, as you had a 7 step skincare routine. You cleaned up after yourself, but left your skin care and make up bag in the bathroom, before exiting. Sam was lounged on the bed watching Gilmore Girls, smart phone in hand. You gave him permission to shower and lay down on the floor, snuggled into the blankets. After the long drive today, you fell asleep almost instantly.

The next morning, you woke up on the bed, the sun shining bright in the room around you. You leaned across the bed and looked to the floor. Sam was passed out with only a pillow and his jacket as a blanket. You hopped out of bed and began your morning routine, quickly getting ready and changing into your pencil skirt and blazer. When you walked out of the bathroom, Sam had been standing by the balcony, stretching his long limbs. “Good morning. Why did you move me? Touching people in their sleep is kind of creepy, you know that right?” You walked over to your suitcase. He furrowed his brows, tilted his head like a puppy before understanding what you had meant. “I picked you up. You looked uncomfortable. Coffee?” He asked, placing his phone in his pocket. You nod, grabbing your phone, fake badge, and notepad placing them into your purse.

When the two of you reached the lobby cafe, you were engrossed in conversation about a previous demon hunt you experienced and hadn’t even noticed you were next in line. Talking to Sam was simply, that easy.

You ordered your black coffee and found a table in the corner of the room, Sam close behind you with a box of pastries. You pulled your phone out and scrolled, finding the names of the potential pack members. “Sammy, where did you crash last night? Impala?” Dean pats Sam’s back and sits in the chair next to Sam. He had a coffee in his hand. “Good morning, no. (Y/N) let me take the floor, ” Sam explained, opening the pastry box. “I didn’t know what you like so I got one of everything. Muffins, don-” His display was cut off by Dean snatching a donut out of the box, chuckling loudly. He took a violent bite out of the lemon blazed donut and looked between the both of you, laughing now. “What?” Sam asked, picking up a banana nut muffin. Dean laughed the entire donut away, grabbed a chocolate cake donut, and finally explained, "I didn’t know Kim Possible here was the type. Atta boy Sam.“ Your brows raised in an instant. You most definitely were not the type he was referring to. "Not like that. She wanted the floor,” Sam interjected, pushing the pastry box towards you. You shook your head at the both of them, "I’m going to interview the staff. Before I do so, any insight from night crew, Dean? Other than your ..er..babysitter?“ He smirked for a moment and retorted, "she say alright. Just not on a baby.” You stood up from the table as Sam let out a “gross,” Between muffin bites.

“No. The chef at the rooftop resturaunt was mysteriously off of work a little early the night of the attack, though. Bet you didnt see that on the schedule? Someone punched out for him. Think you’re miss all that, still?” He smirked, seemingly proud of himself. You rolled your eyes, placed the glass mug on the return to kitchen rack, and made your way to the rooftop resturaunt.

The dining room was elegantly designed, their awards tucked nearly in glass cases all around the round tables. A chandelier hanging from the middle of the room, dim lighting even at this early time. You flashed your badge at the hostess and demanded to see the chef. You must have spoken a bit too loud however, because you heard a scream come from the kitchen. You ran back, grabbing a silver knife from a table along the way. The hostess stumbled behind you. You turned to the scared brunette and told her that the only way she could help is to get your partners from the cafe downstairs.

There was no time to wait for the Winchesters, you burst into the kitchen and saw the chef leaning over a bloody body. The sous chef. The man was large, muscular, and wearing a white chef coat. When he spotted you, the anger in his eyes penetrated your soul. It was game on. He lunged toward you, pressing you against the wall. The force knocked the wind out of you, but you held tight to the knife, ready to swing, but the wolf man behind him had other plans. You noticed it was the man you told Sam about last night. He was coming after you, you were cornered. The door burst open once more and the two men that now appeared, was a blessing. How they had gone to their car, gotten their weapons, and made there way up here this quick was shocking.

With a loud bang, the employee was down. You used your free leg, grunting and using all your strength, to kick the chef in the groin. When he bent down you jammed the silver knife into his temporalis muscle, right through the skull. He landed with q loud crash. The Winchester brothers stood back impressed with how quickly you managed to kill this beast. You shrugged, wiping yourself off of dust and straightened your skirt. “Thanks for the help boys, ” You began grabbing the body by the wrists. The worst part about this job was the clean up, well other than the telling families and seeing death parts.

After the clean up, you and the Winchesters were in the back alley of the resort, leaned up against their Impala. “So, you men off to save the world again or do you have time for another coffee? I owe you one for saving me and I booked two nights because I didnt know how long it would take us,” You asked, pushing yourself off of the car. The guys nodded and followed you back into the cafe, where you ordered a coffee once more.

"You should eat something,“ Sam motioned towards the box of pastries he bought again. You shook your head and sipped your coffee, ” Thanks but I’m good.“ Dean grunted, rolling his eyes and grabbed the pumpkin spice donut from the box. "So where are you off too? Im sure you Winchester guys have bigger fish to fry,” You sipped your coffee and watched as Sam placed a Nutella croissant on a napkin and place it in front of you. You left it in its place. “Well, we do normally. But we kind of saved the world for good now. So we are back to tiny hunter to keep us sane,” Dean explained, grabbing a canole from the box. Dean seemed to finally be warming up to you.

“So maybe we will catch you again on another hunt, ” Sam smiled warmly at the idea before biting into a blueberry lemon ginger muffin. Dean rolled his eyes, “bro if you like her, I’m okay with, ” He was attempting to keep his voice low about it and failing. Sam began fidgeting with the muffin, blushing nervously, hoping you couldn’t hear his brother. Dean began, "we can ask her if she wants to… Join the team for a bit.“ You couldn’t pretend you didn’t hear this any longer. Letting out a giggle and feeling your face burn red, you responded, "I wouldn’t want to intrude. I’m also, a loner kind of girl.” Sam quickly interjected, "no. I mean you wouldn’t be intruding. Do you have a permanent home? Where do you go if you can’t find cases? Blow your money on motels?“

He created a good argument, "not exactly… my money. No, I don’t have a permanent home and if there are no cases, motel vacancies, or money, I sleep in my car. Old yeller and I ride well.” Sam shook his head in response, he was chuckling so it definitely was not judgement.

“We have a bunker. A home. We have plenty of rooms and it’s hidden,” Dean grunted showing that he was annoyed by the idea. You felt pretty overwhelmed and you had just met these guys. However, they did save your life and if they were going to harm you they would have done it already.

After a long moment of silence, you agreed to join them only after you got your money’s worth of the room tonight. “When’s the last time you boys had some innocent fun? Not bars or women?” The two men looked at each other dumbfounded and shrugged at you. You motioned for them to follow you as you stood up from the table. Sam gripped your wrist and pointed at the croissant, “eat this and we have a deal.” You began to argue but he furrowed a brow to show how serious he was.

You sat down at the table with a slight hint of attitude. You picked up the croissant and let the flavors of hazelnut and chocolate explode in your mouth. The buttery flakes of the croissant were the perfect mixture of flaky and doughy along with the chocolate-hazelnut ratio, this was a perfect croissant. After you finished, you felt extremely full, but finished your coffee before standing up and ordering a to-go cup of coffee.

“You are going to have a stomach issue if you don’t eat and only drink coffee. Take care of yourself so you don’t get medical bills in the future, ” Sam spoke concerned as you made your way to the front desk of the hotel. You flashed your badge to the clerk and leaned onto the counter, acting exhausted, "my partners and I have caught the perp, we were thinking about taking a break, but saw the skiing guests and thought… “ You left a pause for the dark haired scrawny male behind the counter. Falling right into your trap, "let me see if we have three spots for full equipment rentals.” You turned to the shocked Winchesters and flicked a brow with a smirk as if bragging. the clerk frowned, “I see that we don’t have any slope spots open today, but we do have three full access spa spots, let me see your badge or IDs and I’ll have them set up, free of charge.” You smirked to the men as you all three placed your IDs on the counter.

“Maybe I can get used to a chick riding along with us,” Dean laughed, biting into a bagel from the box he was carrying around. “What? You’re excited about the spa? Isn’t it too… girly for a man of your taste?” You flicked a brow and walked over to the stairs. "Well, as long as you stick with us, you’ll know Dean likes to take care of himself,“ Sam laughed, pulling you to the elevator.

The three of you separated into the two rooms and you changed into jeans, a pink hoodie, and sneakers. You then met the guys at the spa in time for your appointment. Sam and Dean were already in robes and slippers, being entered into the hot tub room. After you checked in they entered you into a changing room with a private locker. You stripped into a robe and slippers then moved into the private hot tub waiting room.

You dipped your feet into the not-too-hot tub and thought about today’s events. You had just agreed to join two male hunters in their private bunker. In any other context, it would sound like your life was a true crime podcast. The fact you had a crush on Sam, only made it worse. The night before, you had counted on never seeing the Winchesters again to solve your feelings issue. That had no longer been the case since you agreed to stay with them. You either had to lose feelings or act on them. Despite what Dean had said, the kiss last night, you didn’t know for sure if Sam liked you. It was implied, but uncertain. Your last relationship was your only one and you had only dated him because you didn’t want to reject him in front of his frat buddies. Curse your kind soul.

Now that you actually had feelings for Sam, you didn’t know how to act. You looked to the roof and begged for a sign on what you do so that you could get this uncomfortable feeling out of the way.

Just then a knock came on the door before a female spa assistant came in to assist you. "Your boyfriend requested for you to join him and his brother for the massage and facial, is that okay?” You nearly chocked on your own spit at the use of the word “boyfriend” When referring to one of the Winchesters. Was that your sign? Whatever, you thought to yourself, you’ll take it as one. You began to get out of the hot tub and follow the assistant into the dim lit room where Sam and Dean were face down already receiving their massage. You lay down, place the towel over your bottom half, and had the assistant help remove the robe. You turned your face to Sam, "tell me why she called me your girlfriend?“ You laughed, attempting to make a joke out of it.

Sure, you could have gone the rest of your life without mentioning it, but with the sign, you wanted to see his reaction. To confirm how he felt. He turned his face to you and half smiled. He looked deep into your eyes, his beautiful eyes were deeply searching your expression. He didn’t say anything at first, which made you anxious at first. Did he think it was awkward? Dean had headphones in that you could hear Metallica playing from across the room. It was an interesting choice of music for a relaxing massage. The point was, he wouldn’t be able to hear a response and make fun of Sam, so he had no excuse to worry about him. Other than Dean’s headphones and awkward sex-like grunts when the masseuse worked on him, the room was pretty silent.

You felt nervous and could hear your own heart racing as Sam stared into your eyes for what felt like an eternity. This kind of stuff only happens in the movies as far as you were aware. However, as if his stares weren’t enough, he answered your question with a soft but charming smile, "is that so bad?”

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jammingwithjj · 4 years ago

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car’s outside - d.s

(this is inspired by the song “car’s outside” by james arthur, hence the name!)

pairings: drew starkey x female reader

summary: drew had just got back into town after being gone for nearly 6 months. you were lonely, but you understood. it was his job. you guys got into an argument about how he travels so much, and never seems to have time for you.

warnings: swearing, verbal fighting. mentions of alcohol, etc...

you were sat at home, waiting for something interesting to happen. you knew you were wasting your time. nothing ever happened when drew was gone. he was always in such a good mood, and you were always out doing something, or hanging with friends, or just wasting time. you hated when he left, but you knew he had to. it was his job...

you sat on the couch a while longer when your phone rang, pulling you out of the flashbacks you often found yourself reliving.

“hello?” you didn’t even look at the caller ID.

“hey baby.” drew cooed on the other end.

“hi. drew.” you smiled, finally hearing his voice after a long, boring day.

“everything ok, baby? you sound sad.” he asked you, concerned. he hated when you were sad.

“yeah, fine. just missin’ you. that’s all.” you told him. part of it was true, but you would never admit to him how hurt you were that he seemed so okay with leaving you so often...

“okay... just checking. i actually called to tell you some good news.” he said.

“ok... what is it?!” you practically yelled through the phone.

“i’m at the airport. and i’m comin’ home. for a while this time.” he told you. you stared in disbelief.

“wait- what? you’re-you’re coming home?” you asked him again.

“mhmm. i should be there in about 4 hours. we’re boarding now.” he said to you.

“okay, baby. ill cya then. i love you. ill see you soon.” you said. as he responded with the infamous “i love you, princess.”

you got up and tried your best to tidy, but since you hadn’t done much the past couple days, there wasn’t much to tidy, or clean. you knew he wouldn’t care, but you were really just looking for something to distract you. you missed him so much, and couldn’t wait to finally see him. he’d been filming Netflix’s Outer Banks for what seemed like a lifetime. you had been dating nearly 2 years, and then he landed the job for Netflix. you were so incredibly happy for you, but a part of you wanted to hold him back. be selfish for once. now everyone knows his name. he’s not yours anymore... but you could never, and would never actually hold him back from anything that big.

a couple hours later, you were still finding things to do. cleaning counters, wiping down sidetables in the bedroom, and living room. contemplating whether or not you were going to clean the windows... you never ended up cleaning the windows...

20 minutes pass, and you had migrated to the bedroom, picking out clothing items you didn’t wear anymore, and inevitably shoving them in a bag that would probably just sit in the closet for months, waiting for someone to do something with it. you had picked out some comfy clothes to put on after your shower, and threw them in the dryer so they’d be warm once you were ready to wear them.

right before you got in the shower, your phone rang.

“hey, drew. everything okay?” you picked up the phone, to hear a bunch of chatter.

“hey, y/n. i just wanted to let you know that i landed. getting my luggage now!” he spoke, cheerfully.

“oh, ok! i’ll be there to pick you up in about an hour, bub. i love you, cya soon.” you spoke, hanging up the phone.

you quickly got in the shower, dressed yourself, and started to go to the airport to pick drew up. you stopped off to get a coffee on the way, and got home coffee too.

you pulled into the airport, and parked. you went into the airport to see drew standing there, looking like a lost puppy, standing there waiting there for you.

“hi, baby.” he smiles at you, pulling you into a hug.

you breathed out, burying your head in his chest. “missed you.” you said, nuzzling your head the best you could in his shoulder. “you have everything?” you pulled away, looking up at him.

he nodded, grabbing his suitcase and he began to wheel it out to where your car. “i’m so happy to be back. i missed you, and all of the adventures we used to go on.” he smiled, as you guys family reached your car.

you smiled again at his comment, and you both got in the car, eager to get home and fill each other in on all of the goings-on while you were away from each other.

about an hour later, you pulled into your driveway.

“baby, wake up.” you rubbed his shoulder, watching as his eyes started to flutter open.

“are we home?” he stretched and looked at you.

you nodded, “yeah, we are! you go inside and lay down, babe. i’ll get your stuff.” you said.

you watched as he walked to the trunk, and got his luggage. “honey, i got it. go in.” you told him.

“i’m all good. i got it.” he says, and wheels his luggage into the apartment.

“ah, home.” he looks around and smiles, dropping his stuff in the bedroom, and going back out into the living room. you followed close behind him, and met in the kitchen.

“so, fill me in. what adventures did you have while you were gone?” you asked him, propping yourself up on the counter.

“i had so much fun, babe. it was definitely a like changing experience. i wish you could’ve been there, seen everything.” he says, fiddling with the string of his hoodie.

“i saw all of the pictures on instagram. it looked like a really fun time. i’m glad you had fun, baby.” you said, pulling him in, and running your fingers through the hair at the naps of his neck, causing a shiver to run through him.

he heard his phone ring, and pulled away from the hug. “hello,” he answered. his face twisted in distress.

“okay, i’ll be there...” he said, hanging up the phone.

“baby...” you looked at him watching him watch you.

“please don’t be mad...” he said, looking down at you

“i won’t be, drew. what’s up?” you asked.

he explained how they needed to reshoot some scenes again, and they wanted to do it before the storm hit, which meant he would have to fly back out early tomorrow morning.

you sat there for a second, looking at his face, and realizing how much you missed it. all you wanted was to wake up next to him, in real life. in person, without all the worry of having a charged phone, or making sure to call them today. you didn’t want to have to worry anymore.

“but- you just left...” you impulsively spoke. he looked at you.

“i know, baby. but it’ll only be for a few weeks. a month maybe. i really wish i could stay, but i have to go... i’m sorry, baby.” he tried to comfort you, but you were sick of it. all of it. you weren’t mad at him, but you just couldn’t stand to be away from him anymore.

you sigh, “it’s just that, you’re always leaving, and- i-i’m tired of not being where you are. i just wanna be with you. i’m tired of loving from thousands of miles away.” you admitted, fiddling with your thumbs.

“y’know what? screw it. screw it all. i’m sick of leaving. i don’t wanna leave you anymore. go pack. we leave at 5. you’re coming with me this time. and every time after that. i- i finally realized that i can’t live without you. you’re my world, a-and...” he trailed off. “i just love you so much...” he finally got out, and followed you to the bedroom to help you pack.

(a/n): hi guys :) i hope you enjoyed my first post on this account! this was a little rushed, but i should be posting more content later this week! love u all, u rock ♥️

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better-be-reddie · 5 years ago

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Absconding, Aberrations, & Alligators

'It starts with Richie standing on a small stage in front of a decent crowd. It's been a good four months since his giant fuck up in Chicago- four months since the great Sewer Tour sequel- working title. He's finally working to get his career back on its feet, before he no longer has an agent or manager or all the other people that make his career somewhat functional. They're starting him off small, a test run to see if he's over whatever mental breakdown that caused him to bomb his last show and cancel the tour he'd been in the middle of. Spoiler Alert: he was just getting started.'

Richie takes an impromptu trip to Florida, somehow it all works out.

Hey! So I posted this fic to ao3 awhile ago but now that I have a blog I’m porting it here too. Rated T for language I guess No warnings, just 11,000 words feat. Richie’s gay crisis.

It starts with Richie standing on a small stage in front of a decent crowd. It's been a good four months since his giant fuck up in Chicago- four months since the great Sewer Tour sequel- working title . He's finally working to get his career back on its feet, before he no longer has an agent or manager or all the other people that make his career somewhat functional. They're starting him off small, a test run to see if he's over whatever mental breakdown that caused him to bomb his last show and cancel the tour he'd been in the middle of.

Spoiler Alert: he was just getting started.

Apparently Richie "Trashmouth" Tozier was never really off his bullshit. It's just, the nearly nonexistent filter he did manage to keep was corroding faster than he could keep track. And if he's being honest, it didn't actually start on that meager lounge stage in LA.It didn't even start three months ago when answering a knock at his front door forced him face to face with one Edward Kaspbrak, fresh from serving his now ex wife-mother monstrosity divorce papers.

"Just looking for a place to lie low for a bit." Eddie had shrugged in front of his small mountain of suitcases.

"What and they ran out of fucking housing in New York?" Richie had come back with.

"Fuck you, man! You said if I ever needed-"

"Yeah yeah," Richie made sure to cut off the would-be rant, "Get in here then." He'd said, throwing the door open and stepping aside, letting Eddie into his sorry excuse of living quarters.

He quipped and sassed his best in order to keep the fact that he was internally screaming hidden. Especially when he noticed all of Eddie's little facial ticks giving away just how abysmal he found Richie's standard of living. The thing was, when they had parted ways in Derry, Richie had been ready to let go, to push down his feelings and the impossible level of affection he'd held for his friend. Afterall he had lived twenty-something odd years of his life without Eddie, so he reasoned that he could keep on living without him.

That's what he had told himself anyway, over, and over, and over in the month it took Eddie to just show up unannounced. Richie didn't want to admit just how awful his pining had gotten those four weeks alone, but it had been bad. Somehow being reacquainted with the man had set off his aching heart almost more than he could care to control. But no, this shitstorm he was about to set off didn't start that day three months ago, nor any of the subsequent days after wherein Eddie settled in and became an integral part of Richie's daily routine. It didn't even start those four months ago when Richie walked into that damn Chinese restaurant and saw Eddie for the first time in decades, which had him falling dick-first into one hell of a sexuality crisis. Again. It didn't start when they were awkward, gangly thirteen year olds and Richie was stabbing his hands full of splinters in order to carve an embarrassing hommage to his dear first love on the rails of the Kissing Bridge. If Richie was being honest with himself, which he rarely ever was, he would admit that it all started a good thirty-four years or so ago when Richie was fresh into the first grade. Sometime after he'd mastered his ABC's but before he got his glasses that would magnify his eyes and really solidify his place as a loser; early enough that Richie would brag about being a master of mud-pies but back before anyone knew he was certifiably blind, except for Stan and Bill who worked as mediocre guide-dogs while everyone else just labeled him as a clumsy kid.

It was a cool fall day when Stan and Bill hadn't been around which left Richie particularly vulnerable to his "clumsiness", this time to the result of him tripping and scraping his hands up. Richie had huffed and tried to wipe the mud off his palms and onto his pants when a pair of sneakers entered his bleary vision.

"You should really clean off that dirt." The newcomer spoke.

"What?" Richie had asked dumbly.

The smaller boy sighed and readjusted the fanny pack strapped to his waist before replying, "If you don't wash the dirt out and patch up your cuts they'll get infected and you'll die."

Richie had been startled but also bemused. He got cuts and scrapes all the time, and was almost always covered in dirt from playing.

"I won't die!"

The boy shook his head, "my mommy told me that if you keep dirt in a cut it'll go bad. You don't want to have to go to the doctor and sit in the awful rooms just to make sure they don't need to cut anything off."

Richie laughed, "That sounds fake, why would they cut anything off?"

"If the cut goes bad they might have to!" The boy spoke, growing irritable, "Know what? Forget it, I might have something in my pack." The boy dug around in his overly stuffed fanny pack making Richie smile."Got it, now hold still and let me fix your gross hands." The boy said, followed with, "I'm Eddie, by the way."

Richie's smile grew at how the boys- how Eddie's voice turned shy as he introduced himself.

"I'm Richie."

It was that moment, decades ago on a school playground, that had started the chain of events that would build, and build, and build until Richie was so unbelievably in love that he would never really be able to move past it. It was the first domino in a series of ridiculous and probably ill advised life decisions that would leave him standing on a small stage in LA about to segue into his next joke featuring the infamous "girlfriend" character his writers just loved him to bitch about. It was a bit that he had rehashed over and over in his different routines, this new variation he had mastered last week before ever setting foot in the small lounge.

That was probably why his mind was elsewhere as he began, he was debating in the back of his head what Eddie would like for dinner later, whether he should pick up take out on his way home or it took him a moment to realize that the next words out of his mouth were not exactly what he'd practiced from his script,

"So, my boyfriend Eddie and I decided to try and -" Richie stumbled on the sentence, his brain kicking in a moment too late as a couple surprised noises came from the audience, and a few claps and hollers rang out.

Thirty- something odd years of pining and daydreams of the day he'd finally get to call Eddie his had finally broken through his shitty barrier and merged his fantasies with reality. Boom. Domino effect.

Richie began to realize not only had he just come out, unscripted onstage, but also that this show was being streamed online...live.

He also knew that he couldn't afford to fuck this up, or make it look like he'd fucked up again so he stumbled his way through through rest of the sentence and ad-libbed the joke with alarming grace considering he felt like he was about to throw up.

His manager was going to kill him.

He knew taking it back would have only ruined the show made it even more impossibly awkward, so he pushed on until the act was complete, rushing off the stage a little more quickly than he normally would, if only so he could hide behind the scenes and panic good and proper.

If Richie's manager didn't take him out in the next five minutes, Eddie surely would.

---

Richie had less than five minutes alone to panic in the dingy back hallway that lead to the club's emergency exit before his manager was marching up to him.

"You had one job!"

"I-I know!" Richie said, voice possibly a tad strained.

"Rich, what the hell."

"I know !"

"You're single handedly making me go grey! Okay calm down- we can- we can roll with this- see online opinion polls and then come up with a strategy. God we might have to renegotiate-"

But Richie wasn't listening to him anymore, he didn't have the brain capacity to listen or be grateful to the man who had, once again, watched as Richie doused himself in gasoline and lit a match. He should have felt bad for the guy, and maybe when his own panic died down he would, his manager was only trying to offer an extinguisher. He definitely felt like he was on fire- and not in the good way of speaking. Sweat dripped off his brow and his skin prickled as his stomach churned, twisting and writhing itself into knots. All he seemed to be aware of was the near constant vibration against his thigh that his phone was giving off, as it blew up with notifications.

Richie's hands shook as he reached for his device, the finger scanner refusing to work due to the alarming dampness of his hands. He unlocked the phone using his code instead and balked at the notifications. He could see Bev’s name pop up next a bold 10 to indicate how many messages she alone had sent so far, and the little numbers over his text app were steadily going up as the rest of the losers blasted him.

Great.

Good to know he had an audience.

His heart seized as the screen changed suddenly and Eddie's picture took over, blocking his home screen. It was a great picture, a wonderful candid Richie had taken of Eddie in one of his full blown road rage meltdowns. Richie had laughed heartily when he'd seen how the picture turned out; Eddie, on the other hand, had been less pleased and demanded he delete it. Naturally Richie made it the man's profile picture instead. The photo always managed to get a giggle or smile out of him as if he were some schoolgirl with a crush. He wasn't laughing now. His eyes darted between Eddie's comically angry face and the green answer call button. Richie felt frozen unable to respond as the tightness in his chest grew, he felt dizzy as the walls closed in around him. The vibration of the phone stopped and the screen flipped back to his home page. A new notification for another missed call appeared, followed seconds later by a notification for a new voicemail.

Richie gasped and began to move quickly towards the exit door shouting an excuse to his manager who called out in alarm behind him. He all but fell against the metal door and staggered out into the hot LA sun, the thick air and humidity nowhere near the relief he wanted against his already flushed skin.

His phone jumped to life once more, vibrating in his hands as Eddie's familiar picture flashed onto the screen once more. Richie gulped and swiped over the green answer button and brought the device up to his ear with shaking hands.

"Richie? Fucking finally- what the hell?"

Richie's eyes widened and he quickly hung up, nearly dropping the phone in order to do so. He didn't know whether to laugh or scream, an uncanny hysteria bubbled in his chest and everything just felt like too much. Eddie must hate him. There was no way he couldn't. His phone alerted him to text another text.

Eddie.

'You better have been disconnected.'

Richie's phone rang again. Richie swiped to ignore.

'Pick up. We need to talk.'

Panic seized him. There was literally no good reasoning behind the phrase ' We need to talk.' God, he even added a period at the end. His phone rang. The panic boiled, crested in a mind blanking peak.

Richie blinked owlishly at the broken remains of his phone. Shattered against the dirty pavement of the alley. Great.

"Hey...Rich?"

Richie definitely did not jump. He turned to see his manager behind him, peeking out from the door.

"You good bud?"

He was definitely not good.

"Yeah. Yeah, sorry."

"Okay, okay, you sure? Cause you sort of seem not good?"

Richie had a strong sense of deja vu all of the sudden. He shook his head. His mind was coming back online and he had no idea what he was supposed to do. He couldn't just stroll into his house like nothing was wrong, Eddie was waiting for him at home and Richie liked his dick attached to him thanks. He looked back to the shattered phone.

"Hey can I borrow your phone?" His manager side-eyed him dubiously, cautiously and then the broken phone on the ground.

"I guess- as long as it isn't going to end up like that."

Richie's first instinct had been to call Bill, he was closest afterall, and he was the man with a plan; but that would have been his most obvious move. Eddie would no doubt storm the place in the midst of a rage so deep Richie didn't even want to picture it. So Bill had been mentally crossed off his list. Stan, Richie loved , as much as he could platonically love someone, but that would be obvious too. Plus he and Patty had been on somewhat of a retreat. Something about doing something relaxing and therapeutic after nearly dying and Richie really didn't feel like intruding on that. Beverly would have his back. She would laugh in his fucking face, but she would also give him one of her hugs after and let him mope. The problem with Bev though, is that she came with Ben. Now Richie adored Ben, it was literally impossible not to, however all it would take was one angry look from Eddie and the man would crumble faster than a house of cards in a hurricane. He couldn't lie for shit, especially when emotions were high. And that really left Richie with one last alternative. Which is how he found himself stepping off a plane, with no more than his wallet and the clothes on his back, half way across the god damn country, in fucking Florida. Richie looked around the airport as if it had personally offended him, and honestly it sort of did simply for being located in such a subpar fucking state. He really didn't see what the hell Mike saw in the place. He really didn't get it. Speaking of Mike.

"Richie!"

Richie looked up and saw the man of the hour waving him over. Mike beamed at him and greeted him with arms wide open.

"It's good to see you man!" Mike said,

"Yeah, yeah you too." Richie agreed.

It was good to see Mike again, they'd stayed in contact the same way they all had; through group chats and Skype calls mostly but this was the first time since they all separated in Derry that Richie had seen Mike in person. He really wished it was for better reasons. And not in Florida.

"Alright, let's get your bags and then we can head out. There's a good diner not far from my place, I think you'll enjoy it."

Richie shuffled awkwardly, "I'm all here man!"

Mike looked confused for a moment then somewhat incredulous."You- you're all-? Did you not bring anything with you?"

"I said it was an impromptu trip didn't I?" Richie said.

The look Mike shot him appeared as if he were waiting for Richie to crack a joke, when none were forthcoming his brows raised.

"Alright man. I guess we can stop and pick you up some stuff you'll need. I have an extra toothbrush at home you can-"

"You were always the most prepared outta us!" Richie cheered possibly putting too much energy into a...toothbrush.

Richie knew it was weird, the whole situation was weird. He knew it was weird, and he knew Mike now knew it was weird. He could only hope that his fake enthusiasm could be obnoxiously distracting enough that Mike would let it slide unquestioned.

"Uh-huh." Mike said still eyeing him up, "Well, follow me I guess."

Richie breathed out a sigh that at least they weren't going to have this conversation in the middle of the Arrivals gate.

Mike's home was small but cozy, it had the foundations of something older with character that had maybe been remodeled sometime in its recent history. The living areas were clean but cluttered; books, and notebooks, and loose leaf were strewn around in somewhat organized heaps that probably made sense to Mike and Mike alone. The home was nestled amongst a forest of tall trees and brush that gave a sense of privacy, and to the side was a barely visible trail which Mike had pointed to when they pulled up and told him went straight to a little beach. Richie had eyed it dubiously, on one hand, beach day but on the other hand, he didn't feel like running into any gators, or snakes, or whatever the fuck else lived in this hellscape of a state. If he wanted to die that badly he would've stayed in LA thank you.

The first night the two of them had enjoyed boxes of take out which were supplemented by maybe a bit too much alcohol. They talked into the night, catching up in a roundabout way that dodged the elephant in the room. Of course that was mostly in part to the way Richie would circle the conversation back around to another of Mike's many research projects whenever the man looked like he was readying himself to broach the subject on what the real reason for Richie's visit was. Apparently Mike had been in an out of service area at the time of Richie's show and either hadn't yet heard about the disaster that it was or was too polite to corner him about it. Still, it sort of left Richie feeling like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then again, that could have also been caused by the fact that he was still without a phone and thus had no clue how extensive the damage he caused actually was. Well, he had a tiny idea. He'd already ruined the best damn thing in his pathetic life, what did the rest of it matter? Richie ended up taking the bottle of vodka to bed with him that night.

The next day Mike took them both into town to pick up some more things for Richie under the disguise of grocery shopping. During which, Mike casually asked if Richie was thinking of replacing his phone.

"You said it broke right?"

"Yeah," he sighed, " Yeah, okay I guess I should get on that."

Before his manager had a full on aneurysm. He was sure his publicists were already dead from shock or stress.

After spending way too long in a small outlet shop in a nearby strip mall Richie finally had a new phone set up. Richie played with the device as Mike drove them back towards his house. He hadn't turned it on yet, he simply passed the phone from hand to hand, it gave him something to do. He got the same model as the one he'd broken so that he could keep using his old SIM card. He told himself that he would turn it on once he got inside, face the music. Of course once the two made it back Richie went about the rest of his day doing anything but set up his phone. Richie even let Mike lead him down the death trail to the small beach, which would have been really nice had it not been in Florida.

"And not a gator in sight!" Richie said enthusiastically as he sat on the sandy shore.

"You joke, but that pic I sent you guys last week was only a twenty minute walk from here, in a river that a-ways." Mike gestured behind and to the left of where they sat and Richie shot him a dirty look.

"I came here to try and relax."

Mike only laughed.

That night, after the sun had set in a myriad of colors much less impressive than the ones which shone in good ol' Cali. Richie found himself curled on a deck chair Mike had on his front stoop, watching the moths and other bugs circle the porch lights with an intense fixation, the darker it got the more of them had appeared. His phone was once again in his hands. It had been charging all afternoon, face down on the coffee table. He sighed and finally stopped his fidgeting to turn his attention to the device. He waited for it to load up after he turned it on. Before long he was staring at the familiar screen, there was only about a second of silence before the phone jumped to life and loaded the-

Jesus Christ -over a hundred notifications. He felt a little bad as he skimmed over the list of people vying for his attention, mostly he had messages from the Losers. Maybe it had been a kind of dick move to drop off the face of the earth for two days. He quickly turned to his email. He winced at the couple he had from sponsors. Well, former sponsors he assumed without having to open them.

He instead concentrated on the email from his manager.

'Alright Rich, I'm assuming you still have access to email, despite your sudden vacation but please make sure you tell me when you have a reliable phone, I'd like to discuss some things further. Good news: Your live-stream is trending, and there's been a lot of supportive interest within a whole new demographic. With a little work-shopping we can pull this all back together and make something out of it. Bad news: we lost a few sponsors, some of the higher ups weren't happy with your unpredictability. Also there's been some negative press from some previous demographics, as well as some confusion on whether you were serious in your bit. After hashing things out with the team we think you should start forming more of an online presence, we are working on getting your Twitter verified. Make a statement, control the flow of rumors, if you would like I can talk to the writers about coming up with a statement for you. We need to encourage support from this new demographic by reassuring people your coming out bit wasn't just a bad joke. Call me once you've read this, and get your ass back to LA.'

Richie let out a shuddering breath. A bit of the hysteria he had felt back in LA had begun to crawl up his spine. He could feel his pulse quicken at the mere thought of taking to social media, especially to what? Tell everyone he's gay? Again? Hadn't the first time been horrific and awkward enough?

His teeth clenched together as he worked his jaw until it ached, his breath seemed to burn his nostrils and tightly wound throat with every motion. Emotion thick and cloying wrapped around him until he felt as if he were drowning. He felt the sudden urge to jump up and run. As if he had anywhere to go in fucking Florida that wouldn't end with him in the jaws of some ugly reptile.

He placed his phone to the side and rubbed his hands together, feeling inexplicably dirty suddenly. He had run half way across the country and he still felt just as bad as he had in LA. All the gross intrusive thoughts were still there, the voices telling him how disgusting he was, how he'd disappointed his friends, driven them off. That he'd wind up sad and alone again. Behind that overwhelming fear was shame, shame that he had been lying for so fucking long, and yet behind that was the fear of anyone finding out, which circled back to more shame over his feelings to begin with. He shot his phone a scathing look. His manager wanted a statement? What the fuck was he supposed to say? What the actual hell was he supposed to Tweet out? ' Hi guys, it's true, I love cock but don't worry I hate myself more than any of you ever could!' ? Yeah, like that would go over well. Richie tried to amuse himself by picturing the look on his publicists face. God, it was suddenly even more tempting. Though he really couldn't afford to lose another one, especially while dealing with this latest fuck up. He wondered if he should finally face the music, open up all of the Losers unread messages. He opened his messenger app and immediately felt even more overwhelmed. His thumb hovering over the list of names. His eyes fixated on 'Eds '. Still, he hesitated. Terrified by what he'd see.

A small part of him tried to hold onto the sliver of optimistic news his manager had relayed, however it seemed slippery and hard to keep hold of it lieu of all the other shit. He pressed down over Eddie's contact name and held until it highlighted and with shaking hands he quickly deleted the message thread, erasing all of their previous conversations as well as the slew of unread messages. Almost immediately he felt as if his stomach had fallen into his gut. Regret and fear churned in him and he felt more strongly than ever as if he'd lost something. Richie startled as his phone buzzed obnoxiously; he looked down, heart in his throat, expecting to see Eddie's picture and was surprised to instead see Stan's.

He swallowed thickly before accepting the call.

"Hello?" Richie winced at how tepid his voice sounded.

"So, he is alive." Said Stan, dryly.

Richie groaned and slumped even lower in his chair, covering his face with one hand as if blocking his vision could also block out his embarrassment. There was a beat of silence before Stan asked,"So, what's going on Rich?"

And Richie couldn't help it, all the stress and emotional upheaval- that fact he was in Florida of all places - hit him all at once and bubbled up. First as a near silent giggle, then falling apart into gasping, full bodied laughs. Tears tracked down from his cheeks and Richie honestly couldn't tell what sort of emotion was behind them. Stan, bless his heart, waited patiently for him to gather his wits and calm himself down before prompting him again with a: "Yeah?"

Richie nodded despite knowing no one could see him, "Yeah." He agreed.

"The groups been pretty worried." Stan pushed gently.

"I- I don't know what to say." Richie admitted, feeling his guts churn with unease.

"Well, that really is something isn't it?" Stan said, "not everyday we find something that shuts you up."

And Richie can't help the startled laugh that escapes his throat. Despite his unease, his fear, the smile doesn't leave right away."It's been an eventful few days." He finally agrees.

"And how do you feel?"

Richie pulled a face, "Who are you? My therapist?"

"Pretty much except the pay is shit. Now answer the question."

Richie sighed, "I feel-" he cut himself off trying to discern a word he could use, "bad."

Surprisingly Stan didn't mock him for his eloquence, or lack thereof.

Richie tried again. "I'm…"

His guts continued to knot and squirm until he had to physically draw up his long legs to his chest, hoping for a respite, "I feel kinda sick."

"You always did get queasy when your nerves were high. You threw up on the first day of school."

"How the fuck do you remember that?"

"Like I'd ever let you forget. You threw up all over Greta Keene's light up shoes."

Richie groaned, "I mean, she kinda ended up deserving it?"

"True." There was another beat of silence, but this one was much less awkward.

Richie looked out into the dark foliage, lost in thoughts. "I can feel you thinking." Stan said softly.

"I fucked up."

"A bit, but probably not as much as you fear."

"I-I doubt that. Did you- Did you see it? The show?" Richie asked tentatively.

"Yes," Stan said after a moment's pause, "not while it was live...but afterwards."

"Then you know I fucked up."

"Yes, but as I said-"

"I don't know what to do." Richie interrupted Richie could hear Stan sigh through the phone.

It didn't sound like a noise made out of frustration but Richie's own self doubt was making him question everything.

"It's okay to be scared."

Richie felt his throat constrict at the words and he had to close his eyes against their sudden burning. He suddenly really wished Stan was here with him.

"I- I am. Scared." He said, haltingly.

"That's okay. You're not alone though, you know that right? You don't need to be alone."

"What if- what if they hate me?” ‘What if he hates me?’

“They could never. There's no way you're getting rid of any of us that easy."

Richie let out a humorless chuckle.

"Why do you think they would hate you?" Stan asked softly, though the question felt more like a prompt than asked out of genuine curiosity.

Stan always had a way of sounding older than he was, like he already knew the answers he was trying to make you understand as well. Richie felt suddenly off kilter as he wondered if Stan had somehow already known.

"Because-- Because I'm- Gay." He swallowed down the bile that suddenly threatened to rise up. He had never said it before. Not out loud and never to anyone else.

There was a pause as Stan waited to make sure Richie had said all he was going to before answering.

"Richie." He said, "None of us think any differently about you. You need to know that."

"How- how do you know- I mean what if-"

"None of us think any less of you. I'm not going to say this isn't a big deal, because to you it is. This is, well, it's obviously been something eating away at you. And sure, maybe you decided to come out in somewhat of a dramatic fashion and freaked yourself out, but you don't have to face all of this alone. We are going to be here to support you one hundred percent."

Richie sniffed back a few wayward tears that threatened to escape.

"Are you...are you sure?"

"Have you read any of the messages they've sent you?"

"No- I- no."

"You should. I think it will help. Also everyone was super worried when you went AWOL. You are...safe aren't you?"

Richie felt a pang of guilt at the hint of unease that marred Stan's voice.

"Yeah. Yeah I'm safe." He eyed the bushes warily, "as safe as I can be."

"Good. But...I could be in LA in just over a day you know."

Richie felt his heart swell and he wiped away a stubborn tear that refused to be pushed down. "Thanks, but I'm okay...plus I'm...not exactly in LA right now."

"You're not?" Stan said sounding a bit alarmed.

"Nah, taking a small vacation."

"Have you told Eddie? He's been-"

"We haven't spoken."

"Richie." Stan sounded tired now.

"I - I can't, okay? You saw the fucking show. What the fuck am I supposed to say to him now? 'Hey! So I told the whole world about my big gay crush on you! Oh, by the way, I have a big-'"

"Richard!"

"What!"

"Promise me you'll talk to him. Whatever happens, it won't be as bad as you're making it out to be in your head."

"Fine." Richie said begrudgingly followed closely by a put upon huff.

"Thank you. Now, will you be okay?"

"Yeah," he said, and though it was with little confidence, a little was still more than he'd felt previously.

"Good. Call me anytime if you need to talk. But you should try messaging the others, I know they'd like to hear from you and...they'll understand Richie. Losers gotta stick together."

Richie smiled despite himself. "Losers gotta stick together."

He parroted back.

"And call Eddie."

"Okay mom."

"I'm being serious Richie."

"Goodnight Stanley!"

Stan sighed but gave in, "Goodnight."

Richie took the phone away from his ear and ended the call. He sat staring at the screen until it flipped automatically back to his homepage. He hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath and opening his messaging app. He clicked on the first name on his timeline list and began to scroll, eyes darting over the string of texts, a small smile making its way into his face as he took in the words of, yes shock but also support. Once caught up, he moved on to the next Loser until he had read through them all. And no he definitely didn't cry.

Well, maybe only a little. He felt another pang of loss when he remembered just why Eddie's name wasn't on his messaging list. He quickly opened up a new message draft and selected Eddie's name off his favourites list and then froze.

Stan's words played over in his head, encouraging him. All Of his friends show of support warmed him to his core, he could do this- A loud rustle from the underbrush sent Richie's heart jack-hammering in his chest. He froze, wide-eyed as he stared into the dark. A loud snap of a twig sent Richie vaulting over the side of the deck chair and nearly ripping the screen door off its hinges in his haste to get inside. 'Not today Satan', he thought as he slammed the front door closed behind him and slid the deadbolt into place. Richie huffed and wandered over to the pullout bed that had become his new home and collapsed onto it. He looked at his phone once more, and the opened draft before he deleted it and turned the device off. He'd message Eddie tomorrow.

Richie did not message Eddie the next day, nor the day after that.However, in his defense, he had been busy. Richie helped Mike with odd jobs around his property and was becoming more and more convinced that there was a large reptilian monster of some sort living on the grounds. Mike could roll his eyes all he wanted but the truth of the matter was that one day Richie swore he saw scales moving slowly through the brush.

Richie had also taken up his managers challenge and started trying to revamp his online presence. Now that he was officially verified he began, as the young ones would say, shitposting. His first order of conduct being a small tweet which read:

Richie Tozier @OfficialTrashmouth 'Turns out my biggest joke was pretending I was straight.' It had taken him a good three hours of nervous sweating before he had finally been able to post the tweet but he had also felt an immense sense of relief after receiving a screenshot of his own tweet from Bev minutes later followed by some words of love and way too many emojis. The rest of the losers had also sent their love and support through the group chat and private messages. He mostly ignored his twitter feed though, he had made the mistake of checking up on the tweet and its relevance earlier and had immediately felt overwhelmed. Not to say that most of the feedback was bad or anything, however as someone who had spent such a long time clinging to a carefully constructed persona, suddenly being unmasked and thrust into the spotlight was...scary. it was hard not to feel the shame and frustration he had been fighting off all his life.

Later, Mike had proven that he wasn't as much of an internet phobic recluse as Richie had begun to believe him to be, when over dinner that night he had clapped Richie on the back and told him only a little awkwardly that he was happy for him and that he hoped he could live the rest of his life with more confidence in who he was. Which? Okay, damn.

Richie had simply nodded, taken aback from how touched he'd been, luckily Mike had not seemed to be expecting anything back from him and the rest of the night flowed into something more familiar. Before they split for the night to retreat to their own sleeping arrangements, Mike asked if he had spoken to Eddie yet.

"Bill said Eddie was sounding pretty worried about you."

Richie had felt the swirl of something related to guilt settle over him, leaving him feeling restless with a negative energy he couldn't quite shake off.

"Eddie's a big boy, he'll be fine." Richie said, mind already wandering and worrying.

Mike sighed but let it drop before wishing Richie a good night. Another day another battle.

Richie lay awake well into the night, going over all the little dominoes that had fallen over and lead him to where he now was. Which of course meant that, mostly, he thought of Eddie. He reminisced about hot summer days spent by the quarry, of nights spent tempting Eddie out of his bedroom window to go look at the stars, he remembered the nights when they would talk about all the things they wanted to do with their lives, about how much they wanted to leave Derry behind but never each other. Their pinky fingers interlocking in quiet promises that extended far beyond the reaches of Derry.

He wondered a little bitterly how he could have kept his feelings contained even as long as he had, when there had been so many moments, so many times when he felt ready to explode with them. All the times he felt the need to pull Eddie’s metaphorical pigtails because he just couldn’t stand not being the center of his attention any longer. God, had he gotten good at it though. He couldn’t help but smile as memories washed over him, so precious for how long he’d gone without them. A chasm opened up in his gut though as his thoughts drifted back to his future, and its shaky foundations- hell, it didn’t even have foundations to be built upon. All Richie had was an email from his manager and the knowledge that Eddie must hate him. The thought of moving on with his life without Eddie by his side somehow seemed so improbable, so completely terrifying that Richie’s chest seized considering it. He wondered angrily where his conviction he’d had just over a month ago had gone. When he’d been so ready to keep lumbering onward. Maybe he had succeeded simply through lack of foresight. By waking up each new morning with a heavy despair in his chest and starting his day by pushing it down, down, down, before he could find the curiosity to examine it. By busying himself with distraction after distraction.

He wondered why his patented technique wasn’t working now.

Eddie had stepped into Richie’s apartment and scrubbed it until it sparkled and he must have done something to Richie himself as well. It was like the moment Eddie had stepped back into his life he’d swept away all of his previous coping mechanisms. Richie felt a wave of irrational anger suddenly. Anger at Eddie for throwing his life off its axis by his mere presence, at himself for growing comfortable with it so damn quick that he’d tricked himself into believing it was permanent.

Richie stewed in his tumultuous emotions in the darkened living room of Mike’s Florida home with nothing to distract him from his circling thoughts and growing loneliness except the obnoxious singing of the swamp insects that inhabited the area.

“It’s not a swamp.” Mike said, shaking his head and fixing Richie with a tired look.

“Listen, if it looks like a duck and quacks like a-”

“It’s a floodplain.”

“It smells like shit and is full of fucking snakes and gators Mikey.” Richie argued sometime during the next afternoon.

He’d gotten a somewhat fuzzy photo of a snake curled up next to a tree by the water and had uploaded it to his Twitter account with a “ Get out of my swamp!” caption and had been arguing with Mike on and off ever since. Honestly Richie had been on a roll with creating a new Twitter, uploading mostly photos and quips but he wasn't really in the mind to be too serious while on the platform. His manager was still thrilled.

“What is with you and the alligators?” Mike questioned with a shake of his head, “You haven’t seen one since you got here and you’re still somehow obsessed.”

“Do you know how old those things are Mike? They are nature's perfect killing machine. Evolution fucking stopped cause it got it right on like the first go, it just just paused long enough to make them a little smaller. They were here before us and will probably outlive us.”

“Eddie tell ya all that?”

Richie scoffed and made a bit of looking awfully offended. Mike laughed so he counted it as a win. Sort of.

“...speaking of-” Mike began.

Richie’s gazer darted to Mike, eyes narrowed.“He called this morning.” Mike continued.

Richie felt his heart rocket into his throat and his stomach drop into his gut so quickly he had to swallow down the urge to dry heave onto the sand.

“What?”

“He’s looking for you. Did you honestly not tell him where you were going?”

“You didn’t tell him, did you?” Richie gasped.

“Hey now- calm down Richie. He just sounded really worried.”

“Did you tell him?” Richie demanded. Mike sighed then replied, “I told him I’d get you to call if you popped up.”

Richie’s eyes narrowed but he wasn’t such a dick that he would call Mike out for lying without proof. “I can’t face him right now.”

“Why not? I mean, it sounds like you have a lot to talk about.”

“Nope.”

“I saw the video.”

“Oh for fucks sake!” Richie threw his arms up, “Isn’t privacy a thing anymore?”

“You live streamed the show Rich, I don’t think privacy was a concern at the time.”

Richie folded his arms and scowled.

“Listen, just, call Eddie. Before he drives Stan and Bill crazy.”

That made Richie pause, “Stan and Bill?”

“If you would go into the group chat instead of hiding you’d know what I mean.”

“The moment I go on everyone will be able to see, including Eddie, so.” Richie shrugged, “No group chat.”

“Full offense, bud, but you’re treating this whole thing like a child would.You won’t be able to avoid Eddie forever.”

“Watch me.” Richie muttered, knowing full well that he was only reaffirming Mike’s accusations. Mike rolled his eyes but seemed to give up the argument and left the porch to retreat back inside to let Richie mope in peace. Not long later Richie heard the shrill ring of Mike's home phone. Why the man bothered to have a home phone instead of working off a cellphone like a normal person Richie would never know, regardless, he couldn't pick up what was said from where he sat. A few minutes later Mike was back out on the porch.

"I'm going into town for a bit. Got some errands to run. Why don't you relax and think about what I said? Maybe call Stan." Mike suggested, shuffling his feet a little awkwardly.

Richie took in the man's tense posture and shifting eyes. Mike was usually the type to stand strong, make eye contact as he spoke. Richie started to feel a little bad, thinking perhaps he'd been a bit too much of an ass today.

"Sure, okay." He said agreeably in an effort to make up for his earlier prickliness.

"Need me to pick you up anything?" Mike asked as he circled around his truck.

"No," Richie said, already feeling like he'd put Mike out enough for crashing at his abode for so long.

Mike shrugged and tossed his keys with almost a nervous energy before nodding and saying "Alright, well, I'll just, uh, be going then."

Richie nodded and waved him away, "if I'm not here by the time you get back, assume the gators got me."

Mike huffed but there was a smile on his face as he hopped into the cab of the truck and started it up. He waved to Richie again as he circled around and started down the long drive to the main road. Richie was bored by then end of the hour. There was very little to do while in the boonies that didn't run the risk of being eaten by the local wildlife, especially without Mike there to help spot potential risks and watch his back.

Richie wandered about Mike's home, exploring and generally being a nosy little shit. He was able to amuse himself for a good thirty minutes after he found an honest to God banjo tucked away in the attic. He brought it down to the porch ready to strum like mad and make a damn good nuisance of himself when Mike got back. However, as the minutes ticked by Richie's attention wandered and he poked around some more, flipping through Mike's extremely niche and weird collection of books, his notes, examining his bits and bobs. He took pictures of things he found particularly weird and bizarre, he was busy going through his photos and trying to think up anything that might have been considered funny to Tweet about, because that was really a concern now apparently, when Richie finally heard the telltale roar of Mike’s truck engine coming up the drive. He sort of hated the flash of excitement he got from the sound, he was a grown adult who should be in enough control over his life that he didn't rely on others to bring him amusement; of course that being said, if Richie had any semblance of control he wouldn't have even been in Florida, would he?

Richie stood up from the deck chair and raised a hand in greeting when the truck came into view, the banjo resting behind him ready to go. However, as the truck moved closer and the sun reflecting on the glass of the windshield shifted Richie began to become aware that Mike wasn't alone in the cab of the truck. Richie walked off the porch and into the front yard to try and get a better look but it wasn't until Mike was all but pulling onto the property that Richie's eyes locked onto none other than Eddie fucking Kaspbrak glaring daggers at him through the glass.

Now, Richie had experience many terrifying things in his life, the variety of traumas he had locked up would be enough to personally fund some lucky psychologist for years if he felt so inclined to go. So it's with great authority and experience that Richie swears that seeing Eddie fuming in the passenger seat of Mike's god damn car, in fucking Florida, was the second scariest occurrence he had ever witnessed. Only being trumped by the horrifying reality he'd been forced to watch in the deadlights. He knew he must have made one hell of a picture, still slightly hungover, hair unbrushed, jaw dropped and eyes wide. Richie felt frozen in shock at the sight, Eddie, his Eddie in fucking Florida. The truck had barely finished rolling to a stop before the passenger door was being thrown open and Eddie was bursting out of it like a mini tornado of rage.

Richie couldn’t help but note the state Eddie seemed to be in, hair usually perfectly groomed looked knotted and windswept, his skin pale despite having tanned in the LA sun and his eyes looked haggard, dark bruises from sleepless nights weighing heavily, even his usually ironed shirts and slacks looked wrinkled; his rough appearance did little to take away from the bright angry sheen in his eyes as he fixed Richie with a sharp look and began to march over. Richie had known for a long time that there was something seriously wrong with him, what, with his seemingly perfect ability to self destruct at every possible turn, however the point was really hammered into his head when the only thought that seemed to penetrate his shocked and empty brain was ‘My God he’s fucking gorgeous.’

That was until of course Eddie’s sneer picked up a notch and he opened his mouth to let out a scathing,

“You fucker!”

Richie took a giant step back shaking his head eyes fixed so solely on the short angry demon marching up to him that he didn’t even see Mike get out of the truck afterwards.

“I can’t believe you! ” Eddie continued, “Don’t you dare take another step Richard, I swear to God!”

And all at once, all of Richie’s survival instincts were kickstarted back online.

“Nope!” Richie said, voice a little higher pitch in his fear, and he turned and ran.

“RICHIE!”

Richie didn’t turn to look back, he just went for it, dodging past Mike’s small home and straight into the Floridian woods. There wasn’t any logic to his actions, he didn’t even bother to stick to the trail, Richie simply pushed his way through the trees and grasses. He had no destination in mind, just the strong urge to run, much like the one he felt during all of his life's most uncomfortable moments. He ran, and ran, and ran, until he could no longer hear the sounds of Eddie and Mike calling after him. It was only when he felt like his chest was about to explode that he stopped to wheeze against a tree, he clutched at his side as he sputtered pathetically at the ground and silently cursed the decades he’d spent mostly ignoring his physical health.

“Jesus fuck” He grumbled once he’d finally remembered how to properly pull air into his lungs and breathe.

He took a moment to look around only to realize that he had absolutely no idea where he was. Mike had to have, like, neighbors somewhere, right? Richie groaned he knew this was stupid, he had nowhere to go except further into the Florida wilderness and that was one stupid way to die. Sighing, and mentally preparing himself, Richie turned to go back the way he thought he had come from.

He snarled as he pushed his way through the thick bushes and trees grumbling at the sticks that caught the fabric of his clothes and scratched at his skin, he was going to look like he’d come out of a fight with a pissed off alley cat after this shit. God Eddie was going to be so incomprehensibly furious at him. He cried out in victory as he pushed through some particularly thick bushes, only for his cries to turn almost immediately alarmed when the ground under his feet seemed to disappear and sent him careening down a muddy, slick embankment and face first into green tinged waters.

Richie resurfaced with a loud gasp as he flailed and coughed out a mouthful of disgusting water, swearing profusely. He splashed until he was able to finally get his feet somewhat stable on the thick muddy bottom of the riverway he seemed to have fallen into. The water luckily seemed to be slow moving without too much of a current. It was however, quite deep, reaching up to his chest. He glanced around and cursed his luck, the river was narrow but he definitely didn’t recognize it. Which meant he had most definitely been moving in the wrong direction. He cursed again, this stupid shit wouldn’t have happened to him back in LA.

All at once Richie felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as his whole body erupted into a strong shudder that had more to do with instinct than the cool waters. He turned, eyes darting back and forth along the murky water when movement locked his attention to the opposite embankment. Richie felt ice cold terror grip him as he watched a huge alligator pull itself down the muddy shore and slip gracefully into the slow moving water. Panic seized him and he spun around to begin clawing at the shoreline desperately, uselessly, his hands coming away with chunks of mud and grass, doing nothing to pull him out of the water. A noise he wasn’t proud of escaped from his throat as his mind whirled. This was not how he wanted to die, not in some fucking swamp water, not to a fucking alligator and certainly not in fucking Florida.

He pulled himself along the shore trying to get to a narrower portion he could climb up when he heard a splash behind him. Richie didn’t turn to look though everything in him wanted to, but right in front of him was a tree, and Richie wasted no goddamn time pulling himself up. Thinking back, he had no idea how he found the strength to climb all the way into a tree when he could barely make it up two flights of stairs without needing to pause for air, but one moment he was in the water with certain death and the next, he was curled up in the branches looking down. Richie looked over the water and shouted out a relieved cry at the pair of reptilian eyes he could swear were staring at him, no more than ten feet away,

“Yeah, fuck you! Not getting any of this today pal!” Richie laughed and felt himself sag against the scratchy bark, “Now just, go fuck off so I can leave.”

He finished with a grumble. And then waited.

And waited

And-

Richie was going insane, every time he would begin to think that stupid animal had finally buggered off, there would be a ripple in the water or he’d catch sight of a pair of eyes bobbing above the waters surface. He had no way to call for help, his phone abandoned somewhere back on Mike’s porch, and even if he had had it with him Richie wasn't sure the device would have survived his impromptu bath. He had tried calling out for help a few times but had gone completely unanswered. He was totally alone.

Besides from stressful, being stuck in a tree because of a potentially murderous gator was beyond boring and extremely uncomfortable. There was nothing to keep his mind occupied and distracted enough from re-analyzing the series of events that had him stuck here in the first place, and the hot humidity in the air made it so he never really dried off from the water and instead just became more and more itchy and cranky.

As the minutes dragged on into hours, he had taken to singing, badly, to himself when another sound caught his attention. Richie paused his singing to listen, ears perked for anything out of the ordinary. For a moment there was nothing, and then all at once he heard it again. His name, distant but there.

“HEY!” Richie shouted as loud as he could, “OVER HERE!”

Richie felt an intense burst of relief as his cries were immediately answered by another shout of his voice and a barely heard: “ Where?”

“HERE!” He shouted again,

“Richie?!” Mike’s voice.

“BY THE RIVER!” He called out hoping Mike was familiar enough with the land that he knew what that meant.

“ARE YOU HURT?” Eddie’s voice rang out, so much closer.

Eddie.

Richie’s chest tightened but he would willing sit through whatever lecture Eddie had as long as he got away from this stupid- oh god.

“WAIT!” He shouted, “BE CAREFUL! GATOR!”

“WHERE?” Mike again

“RIGHT FUCKING UNDER ME!” Richie yelled glaring spitefully at the large reptile that had decided to make camp on the sand, less than a body's length away from his tree. There was rustling in the undergrowth, and Richie knew they were close,

“You’re close, I can hear you, be careful!”

Moment’s later Mike and Eddie burst through the thick bushes with a swing of a long machete Mike was wielding.

“Jesus, Rich-” Mike cursed when he got a good look at the precarious situation Richie had gotten himself into.

Next to him Eddie wasn't doing much better.

“What the fuck? What the actual fuck Richie! Are you kidding me, are you fucking kidding me? Can you go literally nowhere without pissing shit off? That's a fucking alligator!” Eddie began screeching and pointing.

“I fell into the water!” Richie tried to defend,

“Oh my GOD!”

“Hang tight Richie, I’ll call the animal control or something I guess,” Mike said, taking out his phone.

Even as he did though, Eddie was bending down to pick up a large rock from the ground, eyes wild and half-mad looking. The smaller man grunted as he winded up and threw the huge stone, hitting the alligator right in the side with a thunk.

“FUCK OFF!”

“Eddie! Shit , Stop!” Mike cursed, phone half way to his ear.

Eddie wasn’t listening as he picked up a large branch and threw that next, the gator made a loud hissing noise and thrashed it’s tail to the side, spraying sand into the air. Richie’s jaw dropped at the sight of Eddie attacking a fucking alligator, it honestly would have been the hottest thing he’d ever seen if he wasn’t so instantly terrified that it would end with Eddie dead.

“Eddie, Eddie fucking stop it, I swear to god!” Richie said, even as he began calculating how he could throw himself onto the damn thing if it decided to charge his friends.

Eddie picked up another large stone and threw it, cursing the gator out as it sailed through the air and hit the large beast right in the eye. The animal recoiled and Richie felt his stomach drop thinking that it was going to retaliate for sure and that he was going to have to die to try and stop it, but for once in his miserable life luck seemed to be on his side. The alligator pushed itself quickly away, sliding into the water and making a B-line for the other side of the river.

Eddie barely took the time to breathe before he was yelling at Richie further,“Get down! Get down right now, or I swear to god Richie, I’ll use Mike’s fucking machete to cut the tree down with you in it and leave you to the swamp!”

Richie was only scrambling to obey, and after nearly falling twice, his feet finally touched the ground.

“Phew,” Richie said and whistled, “That was sure an adventure, huh guys? And you said this place wasn’t a swamp, I swear it almost smells as bad as-”

“Beep beep, Richie.” Mike said, looking too exhausted.

Richie’s mouth snapped shut and he felt a little guilty for causing the man so much stress. He sighed as he walked over to the other two,

“Look, I’m-”

“Don’t.” Eddie said, cutting him off.

Richie looked at him and frowned, Eddie appeared more stony faced than he had been since he’d shown up hours before.

“Mike, lead us back.” Eddie demanded.

Mike took a moment to look between the two before he nodded, “Sure, follow close and watch your step.”

The walk back to Mike’s house was spent in mostly weighted silence that had Richie growing increasingly uncomfortable with each step he took. It was of immediate relief when they made it back to the small abode, Richie’s eyes were trained on the door as he made a B-line for it, he couldn’t be out of the open air fast enough, he needed a shower and maybe to sleep for like a week. He carefully wasn’t looking at either Mike or Eddie when he was stopped in his tracks by a hand gripping his sleeve.

“Go on ahead Mike, we’ll be in in a minute.”

Richie gulped nervously as he sent a silent plea for Mike to save him. Mike, though, barely took the time to glance at them before he was nodding and heading into the safety of the house.

Richie took a deep breath and knowing that he couldn’t possibly run anymore turned to face Eddie. Eddie for his part seemed to be working himself up again, there was a deep furrow between his brows and his lips were pressed into a thin line. Richie waited a moment to see if Eddie would speak first, before he decided to just get it over with himself, he had barely parted his lips to speak when the silence of the early evening air was broken.

“Florida Richie? Fucking really?”

Richie’s snapped his mouth shut.

“I can’t believe you just took off like that! You didn’t even text me! Do you have any idea what that was like? You just disappeared! Once I realized you weren’t camping out at Bill’s or Stan’s or-or the others, I freaked! I thought you were fucking dead, man! What the fuck!”

“Wow, breathe Eds.” tried to deflect, noticing just how red Eddie’s face was getting.

“FUCK YOU!” Richie winced and looked to the ground.

There was a beat of silence.

“I looked everywhere for you, I was so worried,” Eddie continued, softer this time, “I even went through your phone numbers and called your manager, but he told me he couldn’t divulge any information about clients and-” Eddie sighed, shaking his head and said, “You can’t ever do this again.”

“I’m sorry,” Richie’s heart was thumping in his chest.

Eddie’s face twisted, “Why the hell did you take off like that?”

“I-”

Richie didn’t even know where to begin, all of the past weeks emotions were battling it out in his chest and abdomen, made somehow even more striking with Eddie standing right in front of him, his fist still clenched around Richie’s sleeve as if he were afraid that Richie would bolt again if he let him go. Eddie was looking up at him, eyes cleared of the anger that had been burning so bright since he’d shown up, he looked confused, worried, and maybe something else that Richie couldn’t quite name. But he was looking at Richie with all of his attention, and god, Richie almost wished he’d never stop, never stop looking at him, holding him, it terrified him how much he wanted Eddie.

He almost cracked a joke, because of course he would, but he held back, swallowing it down at the last moment. The thought of lying to Eddie, was causing him even worse discomfort than he was already in. So, for the first time in a long time Richie decided to be brave.

“I was scared.”

Eddie’s brow creased again.

Richie took a shaking breath, “I was scared and I didn’t- I didn’t know what to do-”

“So you ran to fucking Florida?”

Richie sighed and shot Eddie an annoyed look.

Eddie snapped his mouth closed and motioned for him to continue, “I panicked, and yeah, I ran to fucking Florida because-because even this god damn swamp was less terrifying than going home and having to- having to lose you and-”

“Lose me?” Eddie interrupted again looking impossibly more bewildered.

“You-You saw the show. I fucked up- I know I did but-”

“Did you mean it?” Eddie said, cutting him off again.

“What?”

“In the show, was that- was that some sort of joke to you? Were you jerking me around or did you fucking mean it?”

Richie was sweating, he was sure of it, his wide eyes burned from how much he wanted to just blink, but he was frozen, everything around him seemed to have stopped, his field of vision narrowed down to Eddie. The rest of the world could have evaporated and Richie wouldn’t have known the difference. In the stillness, he knew that the next words out of his mouth were important, more important than anything else he has ever said. He could feel another one of his life’s dominoes tipping.

“Every word.” He whispered, “It wasn’t a joke, I hadn’t even meant to say it, but I did mean it, every damn word. I- I like you Eds, I have for years. Almost as long as I can remember, even when I couldn’t remember- it was always you.”

The silence was deafening. All at once Eddie’s hand which had been holding his sleeve was gone and Richie felt as if his heart was going to shatter. He tried to prepare himself, for the rejection or disgust, but even so he wasn’t sure how he could possibly survive it. Suddenly, he felt hands clench at the collar of his shirt and yanked him off his center of balance, he barely had the mind to stop himself from falling before everything went blank and he died.

Or at least, Richie was assuming that’s what happened because there was no way that Eddie would be kissing him otherwise, he had to have died. It took his brain a second more to realize that no, this was happening, Eddie was kissing him, and that he needed to fucking respond before he ruined it.

Richie brought his hands up, one to grip Eddie’s hip and pull him closer, and the other to gently cup his cheek as he finally began to kiss him back. All at once Richie felt himself settle, all of the turbulence and anxieties that had plagued him for as far back as he could remember finally dissipated, his head felt light as the elation hit him even as the heat coiled in his belly, grounding him. Richie could scarcely believe this was happening, he sighed into the kiss as he felt one of Eddie’s hands trail up to tangle in his curls.

Eddie was the first to pull away, only when the need for oxygen grew too strong. Richie couldn’t keep the smile off his face as Eddie kept his hands on him, leaning up to rest their foreheads together, breathing the same air. Richie opened his eyes, unsure of when they’d even closed, and took in everything he could. The slight flush to Eddie’s cheeks, the small upturn of his lips that hinted at a smile, Richie wanted to kiss him all over again- and then keep kissing him. But before he could, Eddie was backing away.

“God I can’t believe I did that.”

Richie had a brief flash of anxiety as he suddenly worried he was about to lose it all.

“You were practically swimming in that swamp , god you’re filthy! Uhg, no, no more, go inside and shower right now! I’m not kissing you again until you do.”

Richie’s face broke out into a huge grin, he didn’t know it was possible to feel this happy, the suddenness of it felt like getting whiplash.

“But Eds-”

“No, absolutely not! And that’s not my name!”

Richie’s grin grew impossibly large as he opened up his arms and went in for a hug, delighting when Eddie screeched and tried to dodge him. The two of them chased each other up the porch and into the house, Richie giving up the game and instead taking Eddie’s hand in his, his stomach swooping pleasantly when Eddie not only allowed it but gave him a reaffirming squeeze.

Yeah, they still had a lot to talk about but Richie had never felt more excited to do so.

It ends with Richie walking out onto a large stage in LA, his palms sweaty as he smiles and waves at the cheering crowd. There was a nervousness clawing at his chest as he made it to center-stage, but with it also a giddy sort of anticipation. He picked up the microphone and stared out over the audience, not seeing much due to the bright lights shining over him, but still the silhouettes carried a touch of intimidation. He breathes, smile growing as he greets his audience, his voice steady and loud, cheers rise up in accordance and he plants his feet, grounding himself, readying. Yet despite that, the usual pres-show dread that Richie is used to feeling crawl in his stomach is absent, in its stead is a right sort of deliberateness that he’s never felt while walking out in front of a sold out crowd- or any crowd for that matter, not since being picked up decades ago in LA. There’s something peaceful about the steadfastness of his conviction, about knowing however the audience takes this new show will be a drop in the bucket compared to the opinions of the people he’s already shared the script with. Eddie’s approval meant more to him than any of these fuckers combined. So it was easier for him now, more than any other time in his life to recite the words from his script- words he himself had written.

Yes, he was nervous. But he was also resolute as he turned to look into the camera and the audience and say:

“So, my boyfriend moved in recently, like officially and-”

The smile that broadens Richie’s face is more genuine than any one he’d given on stage before as his audience hoots and cheers. Maybe he’d really send that fruit basket he’d been considering over to his publicist, or his manager for convincing him to take to Twitter to improve his fan-base. Fuck it, he’d send his whole team fruit baskets. A thank you to everyone who had been supportive of him, who continued to back him while he figured his shit out. People who gave him the opportunity to stand on stage and feel the pride that ballooned in his chest at each laugh and holler each of his jokes got. Pride was a feeling he’d had very little of in his life, it was hard to grasp when you’d spent most of your life in hiding. There were moments even now, despite everything, that had him instinctively wanting to curl up and slink away, because having pride in oneself is a learned behavior and one Richie was working on still. It got easier though, with every smile from his friends, any and every little touch Eddie blessed him with, and every morning he got to wake up and have Eddie right there next to him- everyday was full of little moments, little opportunities for him to feel so fucking lucky. So, yeah, walking out on that stage was an ending. A metaphorical book closing on a life lived in hiding and in shame- and he wasn’t going to miss a second of it.

Richie was starting a whole new novel, one composed of all those little and big moments worth holding onto, even if they were scary, maybe especially so; because for the first time in as far back as he could remember Richie wasn’t running away. He was pushing forward with the strength of more than just himself, and he was making a conscious decision to finally make his leap of faith, because even if he fell, he had six great people waiting to catch him. Richie pushed onward, because even though this was an ending, it was also the start of something so much greater. -

#IT #reddie #fanfic #mike hanlon #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #stan uris #fanfiction #fandom

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