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yannasunflower · 4 years ago

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dust to dust | chapter two

chapter one | chapter two

ao3

You don't know what makes you save Kuroo Tetsurou's life. All you know is there is no world to save anymore, but damn if you're just stupid enough to try.

Genre: hurt/comfort/romance/angst Rating: Mature, subject to change (gore, violence) Kuroo x fem!Reader Word count: 3.5k

hey everyone! here's chapter two, as promised. this fic is also cross-posted to AO3, where i'm under the same username. linked above as well! next chapter, action picks up, plot picks up, and we get more Kuroo, promise. enjoy, and as always, please reblog, like, and comment <3

Nobody ever told you how absolutely boring a zombie apocalypse could be.

Your ragtag group of survivors have scavenged what entertainment they can - books and gym equipment, even a few board games. People like Suga and Takeda keep busy with the children, teaching them to read and garden and how to survive if mommy and daddy never come back for them.

You open one lazy eye as a gaggle of them stumble after Suga, hanging on to his every word.

You’re not sure how the two men handle placing a long knife in a child’s chubby hand, fingers barely able to grip it,and showing them how to strike right at a nighstalker’s heart, fast and deep. Their giggles float through the air and the sound is almost dreamlike and if you keep your eyes closed, you can pretend this is a movie and when you open them, the credits will roll and you can go home.

Others tend to the elderly, of which there are only three in your group. You try to keep them comfortable and as far from danger as possible. But your body constantly prickles with the knowledge that they aren’t just vulnerable - they are a vulnerability. A hole in the brick wall you are attempting to build around this little community.

The healthy and fit young people patrol and take rotations on the watchtowers. Teenagers help with the lessons. Takeda had been firm about this. Once a kid turned seventeen, they were allowed to join the patrols, but until then, they stayed sequestered away.

It was almost comical, telling a tall, strong, angry Tobio that he had to mind the children. He towers over you, but he had bent to your will after a brief glaring contest. And then a week later, Shoyo had bounded into everyone’s hearts, including his, and the pair were inseparable.

Kiyoko, for her part, had taken one look at Yachi, shivering at Hinata’s side, and adopted her, sweeping her under a protective wing and keeping her there.

For people like you, who have no “bedside manner” as Kiyoko puts it, there are chores and day to day mini emergencies to keep you busy. Somehow, in the months since the world finally decided to fall apart, you have become mediator and negotiator. It’s an unlikely role; you can see your mother’s arched brow if she was still alive to see you now.

You barely have the patience for grocery shopping.

She would have laughed, elbowing your father, who would have made a valiant attempt at a straight face.

These are useless memories but you allow yourself to indulge for a moment. You have nothing better to do. Lunch is cooking, inventory has been completed, the guard rotation is set for the next two weeks. Ukai had waved you off this morning when you finally managed to corner him, complaining about your ceaseless energy and the “mad glint” in your eye. His words.

“That look means trouble for me,” he had growled, pointing an accusing finger at you. “Go to your cell and get some sleep for the love of anything you find holy.” Without another word, the man had leaned against a wall, put his feet up on his desk, and closed his eyes. A clear dismissal. You tried not to huff but you definitely stomped a little bit on the way out.

You don’t know how to tell him that staying in your cell, with your eyes closed, is inviting the living nightmares. You don’t know how to tell anyone, really, that you are just as haunted as this prison, as Daichi’s eyes.

That the only holy thing left in this world is fear and if you succumb to that, you’ll never move again.

You let a sigh tumble out of you. Forcibly, you shove your thoughts in another direction.

It had been a week since you brought home your latest stray. Kuroo had spent the first three days doing little else but sleep and eat. Daichi has taken to walking him around the Pit every day, explaining the way things work, and Suga showed him his pride and joy just yesterday. Kuroo had been suitably impressed by the garden, if the generous second and third helpings Suga thought he was sneaking to him at dinnertime were anything to go by.

The man has filled out nicely. He looks less skeleton, more human after sleep and hot food. You had peeked in on him in the grey of dawn that morning after Daichi not-so-subtly hinted that Kuroo had been asking about you.

He sleeps curled up on his side, hair falling against his cheek. In another world, you would have taken a picture.

Kiyoko tells you that the men like him, that Tanaka has stopped regarding him with all the wariness of a stray cat, and that she’s pretty sure Yachi has a crush on him.

You open your eyes into a blazing afternoon, unsurprised to see the subject of your thoughts stretching in the courtyard, the weak sunlight rippling over his bare arms. His black hair is messy as ever and you are struck all over again by how tall he is.

Tobio got a new babysitter, you think with no small amount of amusement. The gangly teenager needs someone to keep him in line and frankly, you don’t have the time and Hinata is just as likely to suggest some stupid shit for them to get into as he is.

You are still stretched out like a cat on a bench, letting the sun warm you, half-hoping it will lull you into a nap.

It’s boredom, more than anything, that makes you turn your head toward Kuroo.

“If you’d like to get some exercise, we have equipment. I’m sure Noya can show you,” you call.

Kuroo jumps and swivels to look at you, eyes wide and so, so dark. You look away. Something about him is like staring at the sun; too long, and your eyes burn.

“Didn’t see you there,” he admits easily, sauntering over to your bench. You eye his approach, noting that he really must be feeling a lot better. His movements are more fluid now, lean muscles becoming apparent on his shoulders.

Daichi has blessed every woman, and a few men, in the Pit by finding Kuroo a pair of grey joggers and a muscle tank top for everyday wear.

“I don’t do well with sitting still,” he says, leaning over you. His head casts you in shadow, blotting out the sun. “This is something I think you can understand.”

Up close, you can see that the shadows beneath his eyes are retreating gradually. His smile looks less like a grimace today.

You hum, swinging your legs over the bench and sitting up. Blood rushes from your head and you lean back against your palms. Kuroo lowers himself to sit next to you.

“Daichi forces me to limit my rotations on the guard towers and patrols,” you answer. “When we first found this place and cleaned it out, I was working overtime and made myself sick. Him and Kiyoko have been conspirators against me ever since.”

Your fingers thrum against your thigh as you say this. You feel more than see Kuroo’s eyes on them.

“They love you,” he points out, a little unnecessarily.

You snort.

“Love is expensive nowadays and everyone in the Pit is broke.”

“You love them back even more.”

You glare at him but he is just looking at you, tracing the planes of your face. A frown tugs at your lips.

“How are you feeling?”

Kuroo rolls his shoulders experimentally, stretching his arms above his head.

“Better,” he affirms. “More like myself.”

“A nosy busybody who talks like a grandpa?”

“Exactly.”

He is grinning now and you have to fight to keep yourself from returning the expression.

The bruises on his face are yellow now. You estimate it will only take a couple more weeks of regular meals for his face to fill out and his skin to look youthful again. You don’t bother asking him how long he had been alone, what happened to his family. None of that matters now. The apocalypse is a great equalizer.

“I talked to Takeda and Kiyoko this morning,” you begin, leaning your head back and closing your eyes against the sun. “They agreed to give you another week before putting you on guard rotation.”

“I would appreciate that. I want to earn my keep, however I can.”

A ghost of a smile dances across your lips.

“You’re just bored,” you tease. It’s been a long time since you felt sleepy and loose enough to tease anyone.

“You say that now, but newbies get the shittiest schedule possible,” you warn him, unsure why you’re telling him this. “Be prepared. Once you’re back to top form, we’ll discuss sending you on patrols for medicine and expanding that garden of Suga’s.”

There’s silence but it’s comfortable, easy. You let yourself enjoy it for just a few moments before standing, opening your eyes and offering Kuroo a full smile and your hand.

As he shakes it, looking only a little confused, you wonder how much longer he would have survived on his own in the city.

“Welcome to the Pit,” you say before turning on your heel and walking away.

~~~

Nightmares are as plentiful as soil on Suga’s fingers.

A sliver of moonlight is all that keeps you from sinking into the darkness, skin clammy, chest heaving. Your fingers twist into the sheets. A prayer is whispered that you didn’t scream this time. You can’t bear the thought of Kiyoko running again, feet bare, knife in hand and tears glistening on her cheeks. Her utter, pure relief haunted you for a month.

It would be so easy, you think, to never get up again.

Kiyoko would care for you. Daichi would stop by, every day, and update you. Ukai would read to you, probably, or nap in your cell, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

These are the thoughts that force you up, out, stumbling into your worn boots, shrugging a jacket on.

Takeda finds you in the office hours later, hunched over inventory reports in his neat handwriting, hair pulled back. He puts a pot of coffee on and hands you a steaming mug, holding a hand out for the report you’re struggling to understand.

“Winter is coming,” you sigh as you hand it over. He doesn’t ask about the shadows beneath your eyes, doesn’t comment on the fact that it’s barely six-thirty in the morning and you’ve clearly been awake for a number of hours.

A smile quirks at his lips.

“I didn’t know Tanaka managed to get the TV’s up and running,” he jokes. You wave your hand in a vague gesture, taking another sip of the liquid heaven in your hand.

“We need to get winter supplies,” you answer and that sobers him up. He nods, slowly, eyes roving the paper.

“Winter isn’t for over six months,” he reminds you. An eyebrow is raised. A teacher, waiting for an explanation. In moments like these, you see the high school teacher that you’d found barricaded in his office, babbling a stream of students’ names that Daichi had quietly whispered as your group cut them down, reading them off their uniforms.

On Takeda’s worst nights, as you guarded the door to his cell, you’d heard those same names, apologies and nonsensical gibberish streaming from his mouth as he grappled with his dreams and feverish tremors.

You stand, stretching, before stepping in front of a map of the city that Suga had snagged on one of his patrols. It’s huge, taking up an entire wall. Little markers litter the paper, different colors, and you run your finger over the pale blue ones in the northeast corner.

“There’s a limited supply of winter clothes in the city. I don’t want other groups getting to it first - we don’t need that bastard holding it over our heads when we have food and they don’t,” you remind him. Your arms cross behind your back automatically. “With the snows, we’ll need snow boots. The kids need jackets and thermals. We need to completely outfit the prison’s entire water supply system to last through snowstorms. We need hot water before then or half of us are going to be too sick, and the other half will be taking care of them. We need medicine, too.”

You tick off each item on your fingers, pausing to consider if you’ve missed something. You’re probably missing ten somethings and you struggle to see what they are. You need more coffee.

Takeda is twenty-nine, but when you turn to look at him finally, he seems sixty, glasses dangling from his fingers, nose bridge pinched between his knuckles.

He mutters something suspiciously close to a curse under his breath before opening his eyes.

“You’re right,” he admits. “We’re going to need at least seven months to prepare.”

The morning is a whirlwind. You send the youngest children, always the earliest risers, to fetch Daichi and Kiyoko, both much more bright-eyed than they have any right to be. Takeda drags a yawning Ukai into the office moments later and Tanaka slouches after them. Suga pokes his head in to give you a little wave and knowing smirk that everyone else finds nonthreatening before ushering the children to the cafeteria for their breakfast.

You’re positive you’re not imagining the pale pink coating Daichi’s cheeks.

After explaining the situation, everyone sucks in a collective breath.

Tanaka never sits and always faces a door. From his corner of the room, he glowers at the map.

“Well, fuck,” he neatly summarizes. You nod your appreciation for his conciseness.

“We need to get a hold of meat,” Ukai points out. A something you had missed.

You grab a marker and the portable whiteboard Takeda had grabbed a few weeks ago. In neat characters, you begin documenting everything thrown around the table.

“Raising livestock will be another way to keep the little ones busy.”

“We can’t ask people to shower in cold water during winter, that’s cruel.”

“Tanaka, is there any way to get the heating system up and running by then?”

“What about air conditioning? We have to get through the summer to get to winter, and heat is just as likely to kill us.”

“If other groups realize what we’re doing, we could be in trouble.”

A headache is brewing somewhere behind your temples and you bite back a groan. Kiyoko pushes a cool water bottle into your hand and you know she isn’t fooled for one second.

“I think we’re missing someone here,” Kiyoko points out mildly after what feels like an eternity of circular conversation. All eyes turn to her and she’s unruffled, fingers still wrapped around her mug.

“Kuroo could be a huge help to a lot of this,” she continues. “I’m sure he can help Tanaka and Noya with everything on their list, and we need more able-bodied men on the patrols anyway. He can help us with medicine, our food supply, all of it.”

A furtive glance in Tanaka’s direction is not encouraging. He’s glowering, eyes hooded.

“We barely know him,” Tanaka hisses. You have to privately agree.

“We barely know each other,” Ukai shoots back. “We’ve been here, what, three months?”

“He hasn’t even been on a patrol yet and you want him helping us make important decisions that affect everyone, including the kids?”

“That’s unfair, and you know it, Tanaka,” Takeda says patiently, but somehow reproachfully at the same time. “Kuroo has been in no condition to patrol. The man was emaciated.”

Takeda continues, levying everyone at the table with a stern face.

“We all trust each other now because we took the gamble and brought people in and allowed time to prove it. It was always a risk, and it will always be a risk, but we can’t let that stop us. What we’re doing here is more important than just working together to survive.”

It’s a flowery, nice sentiment, to be expected from a literature teacher, and you barely hold back a snort at Ukai’s warning look.

“None of this matters,” you cut in. “Takeda’s right. And so is Kiyoko. He could be a huge help to you specifically, Tanaka, and he’s getting better every day but we have to give him time before he’s physically ready. You saw him when we brought him in – he was skin and bones.”

Tanaka subsides into grumbling acceptance and you take it as a win.

Daichi returns with Kuroo in tow just minutes later, and if Kuroo is at all confused, he doesn’t show it. He folds himself into a chair, all long limbs and wide feet.

The problems are laid out on the table again. You watch as Kuroo absorbs it, eyes narrowed, flicking sometimes to the map on the wall.

“Frankly, I wish we were in an apartment building,” Tanaka reveals after an hour of debating the best way to acquire livestock.

You sigh, rubbing the heel of your hand into your eyes hard enough to see colors. You know it’s not Tanaka’s fault, that he’s saying out loud something you’d privately thought before. That the electrical systems in apartment buildings would be much easier for him to coax into submission.

But you’re tired. Kiyoko is rubbing the old wound on her shoulder again, Ukai’s fingers are tapping a loud rhythm on the table, and Daichi is watching you lose your mind with that same placid smile in place.

“I wish the apocalypse didn’t happen and we all didn’t have nightmares every damn night, but here we are,” you snap. “I wish we were all cozy in furnished apartments right now, too, and I wish we didn’t have to talk about these things.”

You wish the children didn’t have to hold knives, you wish Suga would stop forcing you to eat, you wish you could forget your mother’s laugh, you wish and wish and wish.

Tanaka’s mouth is open and Daichi is sighing, rubbing a hand over his face. Kuroo’s eyes are expressionless and he just looks like he’s waiting, though for what, you can’t even begin to guess.

You find that you don’t have the energy to regret the words, so you barrel on.

“The apartment buildings are stacked with nightstalkers. It would take weeks to clear even one out, and we would lose people. Guaranteed. We lost one person clearing this prison out and that —”

You’re cut off by a strange choking noise in your throat. The memory of Ennoshita is sweet, cloying, poisonous. Takeda looks pale and strained at the mention of it. His last student.

Your voice is pitched low when you manage to blink away traitorous tears. The sound of your chair scraping is loud and grating against your ears as you stand. They all watch you silently. Waiting.

“Ennoshita is buried here,” you say and the surprise on their faces is almost insulting. “So is Ayasaki’s little girl. We have a life here, one we built and fought for. The kids love it here, it’s as safe as it can get, and it’s isolated from the turf wars in the city. You know why we chose this place, you were part of the vote that decided it, Tanaka.”

Deep breath in. Out.

“I know I’m asking for a lot, but it’s necessary, and we’re all up to the task simply because we have to be.”

As far as motivational speeches go, you’re sure this is ranked pretty low. But Daichi straightens and Kuroo’s eyes are gleaming as he stares at you. Kiyoko is almost smiling and you take that into both of your hands and hold on for dear life.

“I have to protect them.”

Everyone in the room opens their mouth at pretty much the same time but Ukai beats them all to the punch with his lazy drawl.

“You’re a moron,” he sneers. “An absolute idiot if you think you’re doing any of this alone. Now run along and get some breakfast before Suga drags you there by your hair.”

~~~

It doesn’t surprise you when Kiyoko finds you later, on the roof, scribbling half-mad ideas into a plain notebook. She always knows where to find you.

“I think you should stay home tomorrow,” she says without preamble. The word home nearly sends you stumbling off the roof.

“Why? Am I dying and I don’t know it?” you ask dryly. The look she levels at you nearly makes your heart stop.

“We agreed to let Kuroo go tomorrow,” she explains, settling into the spot next to you, peering curiously at the notebook in your hand. “But you haven’t been sleeping and we can’t afford to lose you because you’re too tired to stand properly.”

You scowl. Damn the four eyes. Her and Takeda know too much for their own good.

“I’m fine,” you wave a hand dismissively. “I’ll get some rest tonight, promise.”

She let’s the matter go, which is a point for you, but you watch warily as she opens her mouth again.

“Tanaka is looking for you.”

A sigh.

“I should apologize.”

“That’s what he said.”

A laugh, short and barking, escapes you. Kiyoko smiles at the sound.

“We’re all such idiots.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #kuroo x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #zombie!au #haikyuu zombie!au #this is purely self indulgent #kuroo x you #kuroo angst #my writing #yanna speaks #text #fanfiction

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papers4me · 3 years ago

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Fruits Basket, Se03. ep 7 (part 1)

Just to clarify, the only thing I didn’t like abt this ep is tohru, the rest is so good. kyo’s mental state is at its lowest & you can feel for him! ugh!, surprisingly akito’s own lid was so well-done!, Ren & shigure were epicly disgusting & fascinating!, kureno was so well-written, the final scene of tohru & kyo rightfully setting for the climax! Before moving on to the good part, I’ll quickly go over why torhu’s character was once again the most inconsistent character in the show:

Ep,6 ending showed us a completely broken kyo in full display in front of tohru, best furuba cliff hanger to date hands down, followup: tohru laughing, cooking & wondering if kyo is asleep!!!. Complete detachment & extreme insensitivity to what she witnessed earlier. Not an ounce of wonder if kyo is okay or if sth is wrong with him. Not a single inner thought of “ I hope he’s okay�� or “ oh momiji don’t call him, He’s a bit tired” while flashbaking to his traumatized face. Honestly, all they needed to do was a small quick inner thought to connect the scenes. No need to write new scenes. Alas, Tohru’s complete lack of compassion struck me deep. I was told ep6 ending was an anime original scene, I don’t mind any diversion from the original since I don’t know the it, but those writers who wrote a complete new scene didn’t feel the need to transition from it to the rest of the manga? really? It’s hard to believe.

Choosing the kitchen’s happy scene after of kyo’s nightmare is not bad as it shows that nobody either care or know abt his issues, fair enough. However, choosing the kitchen’s happy scene after the PTSD in tohru’s own bedroom & not modifying tohru’s happy go lucky, let’s cook yay face to a realistic concerned expression is absurd! It really takes plenty from tohru as a character. This comes after tohru’s long awaited background ep which returns tohru back to square one.

Just last ep, tohru opened her lid in front of kyo & he comforted her, While she still yet to overcome her fears, she failed miserably in doing the only thing that she’s been doing since se01, ep1, being compassionate & thoughtful. Oh well, adding a light scene in the midst of kyo & akito’s dark sequence is more important than tohru’s character consistency & growth.

moving on from tohru~~~

-Kyo’s suffocation: (guilty or not, it doesn’t matter)

we get kyo’s nightmare really gave me chills & was visually well-done. it brilliantly conveyed the feeling of suffocation, blinding fear, & intensified trauma. The nightmare’s horror vividly showcases kyo’s deepest insecurities & trauma:

It started with his mother’s “ it’s not your fault” sth kyo craved to hear from her very badly. Yet, it contradicted her action: Choosing death over staying with him.

His mother brings salvation: the cat’s cage. The cat’s room parallel’s kyo’s real life at his parents house. In se01, eo24, kyo said, he wasn’t allowed to play outside or watch TV, while his bracelet ”handcuffs” were routinely checked by his mom. Just like a prison. His mom sentenced him in the new prison fitting for more horrible sins. The cat’s cage for the rest of his life.

While kyo looks panicked & horrified but on the verge to refuse, kyoko appears. “I won’t forgive you” solidifying his mom’s judgement.

They both warn him of the consequences of living & be forgiven: tohru’s death. Go on, kyo. Add one more victim to suffer in your behalf while you roam free. You might think that you can escape the cat’s cage but your hands remain dirty with blood. Others might not see the blood on yoyr hands, but YOU do.

Kyo is torn between being an actual sinner or a victim, between causing intentional harm or unintentional hurt, between being guilty or not. It all doesn’t matter & kyo knows it. What matter is the punishment has been going for years now & he’s tired, broken, lost & just wants it all to end. Death. Slow death in a tiny cage is so fitting for all the pain he caused others, for all the pain he suffered.

Kyo knows (a) suffering in front of tohru is hurting her. (b) Accepting her love will lead to hurting her: confessing of kyoko’s death. (c) Abandoning her is hurting her. (d) kyo knows that he doesn’t deserve her, not after he caused all this pain. (e) Above all, kyo can’t live with himself anymore. being close to her hurt so much.

-Akito’s lid: ( broken home & broken self image):

I must say they did an excellent job of presenting akito’s past! (a) It was a mixture of narration through (shigure & Ren), (b) actual animation of her parents causing her pain & traumatizing her (the scenes of Akira’s last words, her mom’s accusations), (c) Actual animation of the origin of her parents (Ren & Akira’s relationship), (d) akito herself confessing abt her pain in front of kureno. Tohru’s own lid on the other hands was presented through (a) excessive narrative with minimum animation (the grandpa’s endless exposition of tohru’s background quickly wrapped up), (b) no real animation of kyoko actually hurting tohru or how she did it, just again the grandpa narrating that kyoko “went away”. (c) tohru’s own self recall of her past being cut into pieces & divided throughout the ep, once after running from shigure & another in the sheet scene. Tohru’s ep wasn’t bad at all, it was good, but it was evidently shortened & summarized lazily. Oh well. What both eps serve is painting tohru & akito as foils of each other:

Both are attached toxicly to their parent. Tohru: kyoko & Akito: akira.

Both were welling to create a fake persona or an image that keeps this toxic love alive & cling to it no matter what.

Both hurt themselves the most & are struggling to let go of this bond.

Both have parents that hurt them. Akito: ren & tohru: kyoko, altho it is not clear how kyoko hurt tohru but kyoko is more a ghost than a real character.

Both cling to a dead object that represent their deceased parent. Tohru & the photo frame & akito & the box.

Kyoko existed to be this perfect mother with no sins, the character that tohru embodied to “fix” & “ heal all broken kids”. She lives only in memories. Even other characters think of her as this holy being. It is alluded Kyo seemed to know her as a real person who can commit mistakes, therefore, to kyo, kyoko isn’t an angel or a holy being. However, thanks to their encounter at her death & her “ I won’t forgive you” words, kyoko now is a haunting ghost to kyo. Akira on the other hand, existed as this sickly, pale & fragile head of the house, treated with so much aura & holiness. He died but his sins remain in how he raised akito.

Both must let go of their toxic bonds. Tohru of her deep attachment to her mom & akito to the zodiacs.

Both must learn to form healthier relationships.

However, there are striking differences between them! tohru never abused anyone nor attempted murdering someone by throwing’ em from a terrace, or locking them & torment them or stabbing them with a knife!! Tohru’s sin is torturing herself which by consequence tortured kyo, too. Cuz there’s is a theme of a loved-one’s pain is mine as well. Kyo’s mom hurt her own self & ended her own life. This resulted in her son’s years of immense pain, trauma & self-loath & similar suicidal tendencies, se0, ep16 “ I’ will yuki & then kill myself”, & se02, e9 “ mother, if only you killed me instead”. tragic.

Side Notes:

I will say this with a broken heart....... Tohru must learn to let go of.... kyo. She is suffocating him. Not on purpose. I want them to be together! so bad! they’re so perfect for each other, but also, right now is NOT the time for this. Kyo & tohru’s character issues is NOT abt romance. They have real traumatic issues that are hindering their growth as independent characters. Tohru’s growth might not be well-written or well-presented, but kyo’s growth is still not explored. Next ep is where his lid opened! it must be painful. A person suffering from extreme self-loath & suicidal tendencies shouldn’t be presented so lightly in favor for the love cures all fairy tale! PLZ! NO!

Tohru must learn to not repeat her mistake again & live only for one person. She must let go of kyo in order to gain kyo back. Right now, She can’t have him! kyo is suffocated by his own trauma & adding tohru’s guilt on top of it is devastating. I mean, This could go differently & kyo might accept her love on the spot, & tohru might save him again or sth. I can see this being going deeper or shallower depending on the desired theme. Which of furuba’s heavy themes will be given to climax?

why is momiji doing a rabbit burger? he’s not cursed anymore. I know he’s keeping it a secret, but I thought momiji’s whole growth was abt letting go of the past. he still identifies with the zodiac rabbit?

Ren is hella sexy! & her Japanese VA deserves an Oscar! The way she expresses sexiness, seductive, anger, hate, contempt, sarcasm, delusional screaming, pain! EPIC!

“I thought I was created to receive others contempt” ugh! this hurt, kyo.

Shigure’s line abt looking at Ren to fantasize how akito will look if she were allowed to be a woman, ewww!!!! hella disgusting! imagine sleeping wth someone & fantasizing abt her daughter or vise versa!

Honestly, this ep while not excusing akito’s crimes & abuse of others, it did paint her in a human light. I really don’t want her to end up with shigure. Akito’s whole life is abt misunderstood love. Give her time to discover herself. A guy who slept with her mom is never a reasonable partner even if he loves her for eternity. but oh well~

Shigure indirectly caused Isuzu’s near death abuse by Akito. all in his attempts to free akito from the curse. I love how disgustingly selfish he is. I remember his “ you mom told you to not interfere, kagura” in se03, ep3. shudder!!! if hiro never met haru that day & confessed to him, if kureno never noticed the maid! Still, he went & visited isuzu after her 4 moths imprisonment in the cat’s cage her hospitals discharge & recovery!

ngl... Shigure & Ren’s sexual tension is the biggest in furuba. Eww!

I’ll talk abt kureno & akito more in part 2. but I felt nothing watching kureno get stabbed lol. this is due to the trailer spoiling it & the ED having him happily in love -_-’. bummer!.

I love tohru & kyo’s outfit in the ep cliff hanger. lol. Tohru really dressed up to confess.

Tohru read the room! Even if you magically forgotten how sickly & out of it he was in your room earlier, remember this: Kyo always have bad mood in the rain! Then again... he did hug her for the first time & called her by her name in the midst of a rainy storm. se01, e024. >_<!

#Fruits Basket #Anime Only #part 1 #sleepy paper

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ghostly-cabbage · 4 years ago

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Frigid (Chapter 5)

Genre: Horror, Angst, Enemies to Friends (to maybe more??? ohoho)

Chapter Rating: T (Language, Canon Typical Violence, Brief Mention of Underage Drug Use)

Word Count: 6,554

AO3 FFN

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The black and white dashed pavement was all Wes saw. It moved underneath his clumsy feet in slow motion.

Someone was holding his hand; he could feel the heat of their palm enveloping his. His hand was small in theirs. His shoulders were heavy, weighed down by a backpack.

He wrung the padded red strap with his free hand. The person leading him tugged him along after them, insistent, but not unkind. When he looked up, he couldn’t see who it was. The sun was too bright, glinting in his eyes and allowing nothing but the dark impression of a silhouette.

He had to get home, Wes remembered faintly. They had to get home or they’d be in trouble. An odd feeling crept up his legs, and he stumbled over an untied shoelace. The person with him made sure he didn’t fall, pulling up on his arm.

“Silly Wesley, I thought you said you knew how to tie your shoes?” The person said. Their voice sounded muffled, like he was underwater. It sounded… familiar. Somehow. Like Wes should recognize it.

They kept walking across the street, the far side growing no closer.

Wes swallowed, his throat dry.

“Something’s wrong,” he said. His tongue felt clumsy in his mouth. He tried to look up at the person guiding him. They weren’t looking at him, and the sun drove his gaze away again. He looked back at the road, then over his shoulder where the blurry shape of school became more distant with every step.

“Please listen to me this time, something isn’t right,” he tried again. His voice was small in his throat. His chaperone ignored him, or maybe they just couldn’t hear him.

Cold panic seeped into him and he tried to resist against the person guiding him. He dug his heels into the rough hot pavement. He twisted and pulled at his hand, gripping the person's wrist in hopes he could slow them down.

“It’s okay, Wessie! Your friends will be there when you come back,” came the voice, happy and completely oblivious. “I know it’s sad, but you’ll see your friends again, you’ll see.”

“No,” he protested, the fear condensing into a lump in his throat. “No, we can’t keep going.” He didn’t know why. He just knew they had to stop.

They had to stop before it happened.

It ached deep in his bones, the dread and the sirens. His vision swirled and he blinked furiously against the tears.

“Please,” he pleaded. “Please, stop, you have to.” He yanked on them, but they showed no sign of being inconvenienced. A wail rose in his throat.

Why were they not listening?

“Maybe your Mom will let us have some fruit snacks when we get there, how’s that sound?”

And then it was too late.

His guardian gasped, and yanked him back. It sent a painful jolt through his arm. He stumbled backwards and hit the ground so hard it rattled his brain.

The sound he could never push from his memories filled the world. The squeal of tires and a wet crunch. A squeal: high pitched and girlish. The solid thunk and crack of a body hitting the pavement, skidding and rolling and breaking and—

Wes sat bolt upright, strangling back a scream.

Panic tingled over his skin and he clutched at his chest, fingers curling into the cotton of his nightshirt. His breath came in rapid gulps and his eyes darted around his room. Like he was expecting to see—

He screwed his eyes shut and bit into his bottom lip until he tasted blood. God… He hadn’t had one that bad— that vivid in a long time. He focused on the beat of his heart for several long seconds, forcing his breathing to slow.

God. He hated nightmares.

He opened his eyes, taking in the dimly illuminated shapes of his dresser, desk and footboard. His curtains were drawn, and the weak light of morning tried in vain to worm it’s way into the room from behind the fabric.

Wes reached for his phone on his bedside table. He unplugged it from the charger and winced against the light of the screen, 6:31 a.m. Friday.

They’d had the last two days off from school due to damages to the plumbing system, but apparently it was all fixed up because school hadn’t been cancelled today.

After that, going back to sleep was a lost cause.

He shook his head and peeled his covers back. Might as well get an early start on getting ready for school. With a yawn he opened his door and glanced down the hall.

Kyle’s door wasn’t open yet, which wasn’t surprising. Kyle was late most mornings; he liked sleeping in about as much as he liked weed… he slept in so much because of the weed more specifically.

The house was chilly and quiet.

That was until Wes heard footsteps and the sounds of drawers opening and closing in the kitchen.

His right hand slid along the guide rail, the polished wood still smelling of lemon. Reaching the bottom of the stairs he poked his head around the corner of the wall and into the kitchen. He blinked.

It was his dad. He was standing at the toaster, a butter knife held in his hand. Neatly ironed suit already on.

Wes walked in without announcing himself and went to the cupboard. His dad jumped, catching a glimpse of him over his shoulder.

“Oh, Wesley.” He cleared his throat and shifted towards him. “You’re up early.”

“Yep.”

He got a box of cereal and closed the cupboard. He turned his back to his father to get a clean bowl.

“Right. Uhm. Did you… want toast?”

Wes nudged the cupboard door closed with an elbow.

“No, I don’t want toast.” He put his bowl on the dining table and filled it with cereal. His dad watched him.

“There’s eggs in the fridge too if you—”

“Dad, it’s fine.” Wes didn’t look at him, and put the cereal box away. He got the jug of milk from the fridge and poured it over the sugary monstrosity that had the audacity to call itself a balanced breakfast. Other than the sound of the milk glugging, the kitchen was tense and silent. Wes screwed the cap back on the milk and put it back in the fridge, getting a spoon next from the silverware drawer.

The toaster popped, and his Dad startled.

Under different circumstances Wes might have laughed.

He pulled out a seat at the table, its legs scraping over the hardwood floor. He sank down into the cold chair and started eating. He pulled his phone out from his sweatpant pocket and scrolled without really paying attention to the images and text that slid past.

“Aren’t you late for work or something?” he said. His dad stopped scraping the butter on his toast.

“Now that I’m finally settled into the office a bit more I don’t have to be in till seven.”

Wes clicked his tongue. “Oh. Joy.” He shoveled another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. His dad sighed, and he could see his shoulders slump out of the corner of his eye.

“Your uh, tryouts are today, right?”

“Why’s it matter? Not like you ever have time to come to my games anyway.” He said it hoping it would hurt. It was childish, Wes knew it was, but he just wanted his dad to get it for once.

“Wesley, kiddo... I know this has been hard on you and your brother—” Wes snorted. His Dad pressed on. “But this job was an amazing opportunity, I really think it could do a lot of good for us.”

“We were fine with the job you had.”

“I thought a change of environment would help after everything that happened. I’m only doing what’s best for the two of you. For all of us, as a family.”

Wes laughed. It was empty and brittle.

“Well, that’s news to me. We’re hardly even a family anymore.”

“Wesley,” his dad’s voice took on a stern edge.

“You didn’t care about us, if you did you would have asked what we wanted.”

“And this is exactly why I didn’t.” His Dad gestured jerkily towards him with the butter knife.

“What’s that mean?” Wes slapped his phone down and glared up at his dad.

“It’s clear that you’re still too immature to deal with this like an adult. I’m doing this with your futures in mind, Wesley.”

“By ripping us away from home? From all our friends? From Grandma and Grandpa? Uncle Ronnie?” Wes’ heart was thumping in his ears and he wanted to scream, flip the table over, something to make the pressure in his chest go away.

His dad scoffed.

“Don’t raise your voice at me. I told you when we moved that we would visit for the holidays.”

“That just makes it all better. Doesn’t it?” he pushed through grit teeth. He squeezed the handle of his spoon in his fist, the cool metal pressing indentions into his skin.

“The world doesn’t revolve around you and what you want. It’s no one's fault but your own that you’re choosing to learn it the hard way.”

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite.”

“Wesley!” his dad snapped. “One thing you won’t do is speak to me like that under my roof, you understand me?”

Wes held his dad’s gaze, not backing down.

“After tryouts you come right home and stay here for the weekend.”

“What? Seriously?!”

“Yes, seriously.”

Rage whirled in his throat and he bit down on his tongue. He stood up, his chair skidding backwards. Fucking bullshit. It was fucking bullshit.

He threw his spoon down onto the table. It clattered and bounced off the side of his bowl. He snatched his phone and stormed away from the table and back up to his room. He slammed his door behind him and stood there seething, his hands balled into fists.

He stood there as the seconds ticked by, eyes roaming over his room for something he wouldn’t mind breaking. The buzz of his phone distracted him, and he looked down, turning on the screen.

If it was from Dad he was gonna—

Alien Fucker: ?

Oh. Right.

It made sense that he’d probably woken up Kyle. He typed a message back into their chat.

Basketball Freak: Nothing

Alien Fucker: Didn’t sound like nothing

Basketball Freak: Dad grounded me again

...

it’s whatever at this point

Alien Fucker: F in the chat

…

want me to talk to him?

Basketball Freak: no, its fine

Alien Fucker: K just lemme know

Kyle always felt like he had to be the mediator. In the year leading up to the divorce he was the middle man between Mom and Dad, despite Wes telling him that it was ridiculous. Their parents were grown-ass adults. They shouldn’t have fucking needed their seventeen-year-old-son to deliver messages back and forth because they couldn’t stand to talk to each other. And Dad called him immature.

Kyle hated the tension, he took on the peacekeeper role like a job, trying to hold them all together in vain as the family crumbled around him. Wes probably hadn’t helped any, looking back.

He picked fights with Dad like it was his job.

And Mom… He still didn’t talk to Mom.

He tried to get where Kyle was coming from, he really did. But pretending that shit wasn't fucked wasn’t going to unfuck it.

Their parents deserved to know what they'd done was wrong. And if hating them was what it took, then goddamnit, Wes was going to do it.

Wes tossed his phone onto his bed and started getting dressed for school.

***

The school day passed by uneventful. Mia had the scoop about some couple that had broken up over the two day break that Wes hardly paid attention to. He helped her set her shutter speed and they took pictures of fast moving objects outside.

At lunch he sat with Kyle and his stoner friends.

In chemistry, Wes got there after Danny. He set his stuff down, scooting his stool away from him. They ignored each other the best they could as people got settled for class.

Wes bounced his leg on the stool’s rung and kept an eye on the clock. Two more classes until tryouts.

Mrs. Merriweather erased the notes on the board from last class and once the bell rang her iron gaze flicked over the class to make sure everyone was where they were supposed to be.

“Once I take roll, you’ll work on writing your findings from the last lab in a short essay.” An unenthused murmur filtered through the class. Wes glanced sideways to see Danny grimacing.

Hah. Served him right.

“Mr. Fenton. You can make up for your absence last class in an hour's detention after school today.”

Some of their classmates turned to look at Danny, half smiles and shared glances. Nothing was more unifying in a classroom than someone who wasn't you getting in trouble.

Danny hunched his shoulders and sighed.

“Yes, Mrs. Merriweather,” he said.

Sucked for him, but really, what did he expect? Skipping class was a risk he decided to take.

Wes used his notes from the lab he’d done by himself, and started writing his short essay. The class quieted and the only sound was the occasional whisper and the shuffle of papers.

Danny was quiet, fiddling with a pencil and looking at his phone under the table when Mrs. Merriweather wasn’t watching. Wes couldn’t tell who Danny was messaging, but if he had to guess it’d be the other two-thirds of his friend group. Eventually, Danny pulled out papers from a beat up binder and started working on it. From the corner of his eye he’d guess it was history homework.

All Wes cared about was that Danny didn’t bother him. He wrote his essay with his mind half on the words and half on the growing excitement of hitting the court. Finally, finally he’d be able to do one of the only things he was good at. The minutes dragged past and around the fiftieth time he’d glanced up at the clock Danny shifted next to him.

“Dude, chill out, you’re making me nervous,” he said quietly. He didn’t even look up from his homework when he said it.

Wes lifted his head from his partially done essay and narrowed his eyes.

“Mind your own business, Fenton.”

Fenton rolled his eyes but said no more.

Class wrapped up twenty minutes later, Wes turned in his sloppily written essay and bolted out of the room. The hallways swelled with students as they poured from their classrooms. Econ was all that stood between Wes and tryouts. He swung by his locker, grabbing his books.

He was about to turn to leave when he bumped into someone. They both stumbled back and Wes recognized the pungent smell coming off the other person.

“Whoa man, sorry ‘bout that.” Said a guy with blond hair and a beanie slouched over his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” Wes said, trying to get around him.

“Hey wait, you’re Wesley, right? Kyle’s lil bro.”

Well, that explained the smell.

“Uh, yeah that’s me. Sorry, but I’ve gotta—”

“Dude, sweet. Name’s Robbie, I’m pretty chill with your brother,” he said.

“That’s nice. Well, nice to meet you and stuff.” Wes stepped around the stoner and headed towards his class.

“Yeah, totally! I wasn’t here for lunch but Kyle said you hung out with the group today—” Robbie said, following after Wes.

He pushed a breath between his teeth. Great, guess this was happening now.

“—but like Kyle’s told me a lot about you, man.”

“Cool?” Seriously, why was this guy talking to him?

“Yeah, I just wanted to say the group’s mega on your side.”

“Uh-huh. Cool.”

Wait.

“On my side about what?” Wes slowed his pace.

“The ghosts, bro!”

“What about them?”

“Pf, bruh. We’ve lived in Amity Park for like, ever? We’re trying to convince him that this ghost stuff is legit.”

Wes scoffed. “Good luck with that. I’ve been trying since I was like six.”

Robbie shook his head. “I know what’cha mean, bro. Dude’s like a steel trap... or however that saying goes.” Robbie shrugged.

Wes chuckled. “Let me know if you guys make any progress with him,” he said. He’d meant it as a joke, but Robbie nodded seriously.

“Hell yeah, dude, that’s what’s up. You can count on me.” He held out a closed fist to Wes.

He rolled his eyes but didn’t hide his grin. He fist bumped Robbie.

“Okay, well… I’m going to class now.”

Robbie held up his hands. “Oh, yeah, totes. I should probably do that too, now that I think about it.”

“Probably.”

Robbie turned and walked away in the opposite direction, a single textbook swinging in his grasp. Kyle’s friends were always friendly. Even if they were a bit annoying.

Wes was almost late for Econ, thanks to the fact the class was on the other side of the building. He slipped into the room and sat down, letting out a breath when the last bell rang thirty seconds later.

Mr. Brown took his place at the front of the class, voice as monotonous as ever. His button-up was wrinkled around his midsection, and he ran his hands over it like that would help.

“Alright class, we’re going to start talking about the stock market today,” he said, pulling up Google on the projector.

Wes hardly absorbed a word from Mr. Brown’s lecture, which was a total snooze-fest. The stock market wasn’t exactly riveting stuff. He bounced his leg under his desk, watching the clock.

Mr. Brown was in the middle of describing the homework: picking three stocks and tracking their ups and downs through-out the weekend, when the bell rang. Wes had been about ready to start pulling his hair out.

He shot up from his seat and was first out the door.

Wes made a beeline for his locker. Or at least he tried. He got stuck behind kids walking at a snail's pace three times. He got a few dirty looks for pushing past people loitering in their groups.

Eventually, he made it to his locker and fumbled with the lock. Once open, he stuffed his books and notes anywhere they’d fit. Papers crumpled and his notebook creaseed down the center. He pulled his bag from the hook and slung it over his shoulder. He headed to the locker rooms at a jog, back to bobbing and weaving around people in the halls.

“Mr. Weston, no running in the halls!” He heard Mr. Lancer call after him as he went past the English room. He slowed down to a power walk, not caring that he looked stupid.

He got to the locker room and got his gym clothes out. He changed quickly, ripping his shirt off and almost tripping over his jeans.

There were other guys in the room, some he recognized and others he didn’t. Before he put his phone away he checked it, the screen lighting up. At the very top of the lock screen was a message notification.

Mom: How was the first week of school?

His fingers tightened around his phone, pushing the blood away from his fingertips and leaving them pale. He stared at it until the screen dimmed.

He didn’t want to think about it, not now—not at all. He tossed his phone into his bag and zipped it up.

Out of sight out of mind.

He locked up the rest of his stuff and left the locker room. He followed a few other guys into the gym.

The overhead lights reflected in bright streaks on the polished wood floor. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the smell of cleaners and old set in sweat. He scuffed the toe of his sneaker on the floor. The high pitched sound echoed around the room; it felt like home.

Mrs. Tetslaff was standing by the bleachers, writing something on a clipboard. A few students that looked like freshmen were wheeling out a wire cart heaped with basketballs.

Wes walked towards Tetslaff, coming to stop a ways away. He shifted from foot to foot in anticipation. Within a minute or two there was a loose ring of guys waiting around. A majority were talking amongst themselves, joking around. Clearly they were last year’s team, bonded by hours of blood, sweat, and tears. Wes was on the outside. He felt a sour twinge in his stomach watching them. He wondered how his old team was doing… None of them had messaged him since he left. Not even Cole or Adam.

“Ay, new kid!”

Wes turned to see a guy with short black hair and olive brown skin. The guy was a bit taller than him. He came up and clapped Wes on the back so hard it stung his skin. He stumbled forward a bit before catching himself.

“I hear you played point in Cali.”

Wes tapped the toe of his shoe against the ground a few times. “Yeah?”

The guy smiled, dark eyes sparkling. He had a nicely structured face, the stubble on his chin making it a reasonable guess that he was a senior.

“I’m José. Wesley, right? ” He crossed his arms over his chest. Wes didn’t know if he was intending to show off his biceps or not, but it certainly seemed like he was. “I was point-guard last year, and ain’t no way in hell some lanky California kid is gonna yoink my spot.”

Wes carefully gaged for any hostility, but there was none. José was all smiles. A friendly challenge?

“I guess we’ll just see about that, won’t we?” He smirked back.

Somehow José’s smile got bigger. He laughed, his posture breaking into something more casual.

“I like you already, Wesley.” He stuck out his hand for a handshake. Wes obliged. José grabbed his hand without mercy and shook so vigorously Wes thought he’d lose his arm.

“Just ‘Wes’ is fine,” he said with a wince. José released his hand. “Ow,” he muttered, shaking his hand out.

“C’mon, you can hang with us, save you the embarrassment of mingling with the Freshmen.” José slung an arm around his shoulders and steered him into the inner circle of guys. He followed, mostly because he didn’t have much of a choice. As they got close the group looked up, varying levels of welcoming.

“Wes, this is Mark,” he pointed to the dude the farthest from them. He was shorter than Wes, long brown hair tied behind his head.

“‘Sup.”

“Next we got Joseph.” José motioned to a guy with terrible posture, it made it hard to tell how tall he was. He looked familiar and it took a few seconds for the light bulb to come on. It clicked and Wes remembered he had Homeroom with him. “We just call him Jo or Joey though.” The guy in question threw up a peace sign. He had light grey hair, obviously the product of a good chunk of money and some bleach.

Now that Wes thought of it, living in Amity Park, it was weird how many people didn’t have crazy bleached or dyed hair. Maybe it was more of a west coast thing? Or Amity was just behind on the times. Probably both.

“This is Anthony,” José moved to the next guy. He was about Wes’ height and he had neatly cut and styled almond brown hair. He looked like he belonged in a boy band. His eyes were hazel green, and he looked Wes up and down.

“Hey,” was all he said. Wes tried not to stare too long as José moved on.

“Last but not least we got our boy Isaac.” He had black hair, shaved on the sides and longer on top with loose curls. He had dark skin like José. Isaac pointed finger guns at him.

“Yo, man, pleasure to meet ya,” he said. He had more of a detectable latin accent than José.

José broke away from Wes to clap hands with Isaac and pull him into a one armed hug.

“This here our inner circle, Joey and Mark are Juniors like you, but the rest of us ’re Seniors.”

“It’s nice to meet all you guys, God, you don’t know how long it feels like I’ve waited for today,” he said. He rubbed his upper arm.

“I just hope you ain’t rusty. I heard you got game.” Isaac said.

Wes shrugged a shoulder. “I mean…”

“Humble,” José nodded. “I like that about you, Wes. I’m ‘bouta smoke you, make sure you stay that way.”

The rest of the group let out a chorus of “oh”s. The gauntlet had officially been thrown down in front of witnesses. Wes didn’t fight his smile as he sank into the familiar feeling.

“Cool, dude. Just don’t cry when I dunk on your ass, okay?”

The group oh’d louder this time.

“Dammnn, new kid! You got spunk, never would have guessed from class,” Joseph laughed. “Seriously, in Homeroom he never talks to anyone,” he told the rest of the group.

“Hey, no judgment, Anthony’s been needing another introvert to keep him company.” Mark grabbed Anthony by the shoulders and gave him a rattle.

Anthony waved him off. “Shut up.”

The sound of a whistle pierced through the gym. They all cringed and turned to look at the source of the noise.

Mrs. Testlaff had her hands on her hips.

“What’re you all waiting around for? You know the drill, warm-ups first.” She clapped a palm against the back of her clipboard. Her voice boomed through the gym. “Two laps around the gym, go!”

***

The amount of drills they did had to be criminal. Wes’ muscles burned and his hair was spiked with sweat and water from the fountain down the hall. He’d forgotten his water bottle at home, which he wholeheartedly blamed on his dad.

It took a while, shaking off the rust and sinking back into his comfort zone. It felt like the court snapped into focus and all that mattered was the squeak of shoes and the fleeting touch of the ball against the curve of his palm. His body moved the exact way he wanted it to. He spun and dodged, nailed three point shots more often than not, felt like he was riding a high.

They practiced individual skills before they moved onto mock games. José was no joke. He moved like he could read the offence’s mind. It was frustrating and exhilarating at the same time.

The group’s synchronicity of their plays made their history together obvious.

The practice games were intense and competitive. For every layup and three pointer Wes scored, José would score the same. The others weren’t pushovers either. Isaac would shut him out with a shit-eating grin and Anthony was way faster than he looked.

José blew past his sophomore defender and jumped, slamming the ball through the basket and holding onto the rim for a few seconds before he dropped. He bounced into a jog, whooping in triumph. Isaac and Mark high-fived him while Joseph and Anthony, who were on Wes’s side, groaned.

Mrs. Tetslaff blew the whistle and everyone stopped, turning towards her.

“Alright, gentlemen, good job today. Take a five minute break. Go get some water and then we’ll move into cool downs.”

Wes sighed, his shoulders sagging. Admittedly, he was tired, but he didn’t want to stop. His new friend group walked towards the corner of the gym to a bench where they had water bottles and towels. Wes, who had neither, just went for the company. Issac grabbed his shoulder as he neared.

“Shit, man, you can actually play,” he said, giving him a shake.

“So can you guys,” he breathed. Wes grabbed the hem of his shirt and used it to wipe the sweat off his face. “You didn’t take it easy on me that’s for sure.”

“Mrs. Tetslaff was impressed, I could tell,” Joseph said, sprawling out on one of the benches.

“You think so?” Wes glanced back at the stern woman who was in the middle of yelling at a pair of Freshmen across the gym.

“For sure, bro. The way you played you might jus’ make varsity,” José said, smacking the cap of his water bottle closed.

“‘Might’?” Wes quirked a brow.

“Homie, yer gonna have to get past us to make varsity,” Isaac pointed out, gesturing to the rest of the guys. Wes blinked, looking at the five of them.

“Damn, guess you’re right.”

“It’s okay, you can take Joey’s spot, he won’t miss it,” Mark said, snapping his hand towel at Joseph. He squawked and rolled off the bench onto the floor with a thud.

“Asshole! And what the hell d’you mean I wouldn’t miss it?” He pushed himself up to glare up at Mark.

“Bruh, all last season you cared more about flirting with Tiff than showing up to practice on time.”

Joseph’s cheeks flushed pink.

“So? I still got better stats than you did. Plus who doesn’t lose track of time when flirting with a cute girl?”

“I dunno, man. Sounds like a straight problem,” Anthony said from Wes’ other side. Wes looked over at him, a little surprised.

Joseph pushed himself up. “Shut up, Anthony, as if you haven’t been late because you’re flirting with some guy.”

Anthony snorted. “At this school? Gimme a break.”

“Whatever, dude, at least I don’t wanna fuck a ghost.”

That managed to get a reaction out of Anthony. He stiffened, cheeks tinting red. His gaze darted around the ground before his expression hardened.

“If I remember right, Joseph, you retweeted Dash’s ‘Its not gay if he’s dead’ tweet just like everybody else,” he shot back, lifting his chin.

Joseph’s eyes widened.

Isaac, Mark and José spluttered from behind Joseph. Anthony smirked and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Because it was funny! It was a meme, dude!”

“No need to get defensive now, it’s okay. You can admit that Phantom made you have a gay awakening.” Anthony had an evil twinkle in his eye, like a shark that’d caught the scent of blood.

“What? Dude, no I— Guys come on, help me out here.”

Isaac stepped up next to Joseph and threw an arm around him, pulling him closer by his neck.

“Homie, no cap, I wasn’t bi till I moved here. That probably ain’t no coincidence, know wha’m’sayin’?

Joseph looked stricken, like he could feel himself losing the argument.

“Oh come on—what about you, newbie?”

All eyes turned to Wes and he swallowed. Oh, God. Why were people in Amity so goddamn weird? Attracted? To a ghost?

“Uhm… I mean. Uh. I’ve only seen him once…” He twisted the toe of his shoe against the ground. “Also he’s technically dead, right? Isn’t that like, messed up?”

Everyone who wasn’t Joseph just rolled their eyes or puffed out a breath.

“He’s new, give him a while, he’ll come around,” Isaac said, sharing glances with the guys in support of literally thinking a ghost was hot. Wes tried to hide his bewilderment. He seriously doubted he’d “come around”. What was wrong with these people?

Joseph shoved himself away from Isaac’s grip and interlocked his arm with Wes’.

“Fuck you guys, Wes is my new bestfriend now.”

“Boy, you literally out here with silver hair, who’da fuck you think you foolin?” José said, jabbing a flat hand towards him.

“...Elliot said it’d help me get girls’ numbers,” he said softly, lifting his hands to tend it with a frown.

“You actually listened to that clown?” Anthony grimaced.

“Bro, I thought you said you liked it?”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Oof, Anthony hit his word limit, guys.” Mark said. The guys broke into laughter. For the first time since moving to Amity Park, Wes actually didn’t hate being there.

But because it was in-fact Amity Park, of course that’s when shit went sideways.

There was an explosion from above them. Wes flinched, whipping around towards the source of the sound. The overhead lights flickered, and debris rained down on the center of the court. There was a gaping hole in the ceiling of the gym, sunlight streaming through. A huge shape flew down through the hole, stopping to float thirty feet up. The being glowed unnaturally and had what looked like a mohawk of green flames. The thing looked around, and then flew straight towards Wes and the group. Wes stumbled back into Isaac, his brain short circuiting.

“What the hell—”

“Ghost!” someone screamed, and that’s all it took for the gym to descend into chaos. People scattered, fleeting through the nearest exits.

But Wes and his new friends had nowhere to go. They all backed up, pushed against each other in the corner.

“Oh shit,” José said, voice hushed. “It’s Skulker.”

“What? Who?” Wes whispered back.

“Dude, shut up! He’s coming closer,” Joseph hissed, slapping a hand over Wes’ mouth. He didn’t even have time to be pissed about it before the ghost was right on top of them.

It grinned. The air felt heavy and Wes’ heart kicked in his chest. Its body was grey and sleek like metal. Out of all the ghosts that they could have, of course Amity had a fucking cyborg ghost.

The ghost loomed over them. “Have any of you feeble little humans seen the Ghost Child recently?” Its voice was gruff and low, echoing horribly against Wes’ ears. Its eyes were disks of solid green burning into them as it stared. It was still smiling, jagged metal teeth gleaming in the dim reflected light.

Wes wanted to say “no”, maybe that would make it leave, but Joey’s hand was still firmly over his mouth. The ghost leaned closer, its glare narrowing.

“Well? Speak, you sniveling humans,” it growled.

There was a moment’s silence, then: “recently? No.”

Wes, along with the rest of the group’s attention snapped over in dismay to Anthony. He looked nonchalant, or would have if not for the rigidness of his arms and the tension in his brow. Their gaze slowly craned back over to the ghost, terrified of its reaction.

But the ghost leaned back, demeanor doing a complete one-eighty. “Huh, you haven’t?” Its eyes went cartoonishly big. He looked at a panel that appeared on the back of his wrist. “My scanners say he’s in the area.” The ghost tapped in the scanner a few times, before he gave up and shrugged.

“No matter.” The cruel smile spread over its face again. “All I have to do is stir up a bit more trouble and my prey will surely appear.”

Wes watched in horror as long wicked green blades extended out from the ghost’s arms. It closed the small gap between them, a chuckle building up from its throat—or whatever ghosts had.

“Why hasn’t someone hit the Ghost Alarm?” Mark whispered.

“Shh,” José snapped.

Wes swallowed, his mouth going dry and his knees shaking.

Yeah, he absolutely hated it here again.

The ghost lifted a blade, resting its tip just above his collarbone. Holy shit, holy shit, holy—

Wes caught the sight of movement from behind the ghost: a flash of black and white.

“Skulker, leave them alone,” came another echoing voice. Instead of feeling hot and stuffy a chill spread over Wes’ skin as the temperature of the gym dropped.

The metal ghost spun around, its absence opening up the group's line of sight enough to see none other than Phantom. He was floating some ten feet away, arms crossed over his chest. He paid them no attention, his eyes fully locked on the hulking metal ghost.

“Oh thank fuck,” Joseph breathed, relaxing enough to release Wes.

“There you are, Ghost Child,” the cyborg said, sounding pleased. “I was wondering when you’d decide to—” Phantom became a blur. The next thing Wes knew, the huge ghost was sent flying, crashing into a wall on the right side of the gym.

Phantom was now occupying the space the cyborg ghost had just been. He shook out his hand before curling it back into a fist. “Seriously, how many times do I have to tell you not to drag people into our shit, Skulker?” There was a beat, and Phantom looked over at them, like he’d just remembered they were there in the first place. His eyes flicked over all of them, and Wes couldn’t suppress his shiver when the ghost looked at him.

“Oh, ‘sup. You guys might wanna, ya’know...” He jerked his head towards the closest exit. And then Phantom was gone, reappearing across the gym. The group didn’t need to be told twice, the next second they were moving. They scrambled out of the corner, practically tripping over one another.

Wes felt like he was frozen in place. He stared dumbly at where Phantom and the metal ghost were now locked in battle.

“Dude, what’re you waiting for? Let’s go!” José said, grabbing Wes by the arm and hauling him towards the doors.

“Wait—” he objected weakly. His legs felt like jelly as he moved. He wanted to see the fight, see Phantom. He didn’t know why, but something in the back of his mind was screaming at him.

He had questions.

But his new friends didn’t stop until they’d dragged him out through the metal swinging doors of the gym and into the hallway. The door slowly swung back closed, and Wes caught a glimpse of green bolts streaking like comets through the air and Phantom colliding with the ground.

#Danny Phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #Danny fenton #frigid #wesley weston #Wes weston #Kyle Weston #Walter Weston #Danny phantom fanfic #cross posting here on tumblr is a nightmare #copy and pasting doesnt copy over the bold and italics so I gotta go through and make sure every italicized thing is right and uuuuhhhhhgg #anyway hope yall enjoy #Also this cliffhanger isn't as bad as it seems I promise lmao

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just-jordie-things · 4 years ago

Text

Can’t Pretend - Richie Tozier

word count: 13,840 warnings: swearing, sexual themes summary: richie and (y/n) share a dirty little secret, and it’s starting to get in the way of her relationship. but it shouldn’t if it was just a fling, right? based on this song (a/n): about to hit 5.4k so I thought I'd celebrate by posting this ol’ thing :) I really like it I hope y'all do too :3

___

[ love... i have wounds, only you can mend // i guess that’s love… i can’t pretend ]

It was a plain saturday for the Losers. And by plain, I mean they were chilling in Bill’s bedroom, thankful that his parents were out of town for the weekend because that meant they could raid the liquor cabinet and be a bit louder than usual.

(y/n) was leaning against the mattress, sat on the floor, a beer bottle in hand and a smile on her face. These were the best kinds of nights, where all they did was talk, and it was all they had to do.

Eddie smacks Richie on his shoulder, but nearly hits his face in his drunken stupor. And when (y/n) laughs, her head leans a little more into Ben’s leg, which is hanging off the side of the bed where he sat. She’s laughing loudly into the denim of his jeans, and the material does nothing to muffle the sound.

Everyone else is laughing too, though, so it doesn’t matter.

“Alright, so is anyone aware that in four months, we won’t see each other like this anymore?” Beverly asks, a frown on her face as she takes another drink. “I mean, what, am I supposed to make new friends?”

“Yeah, good look with that, Ringwald” Richie snorts, and Bev just flips him off, the way she always does when he calls her that.

“We won’t be that far from each other” Ben says to her with a sweet smile.

“And it’s not like we won’t write, too,” Stan chimes in. “Except you Richie, after we graduate, never fucking talk to me again-”

“Oh, I’ll send you love letters every day sweetie pie,” Richie says before Stan can even finish. “Don’t you worry, it’ll be like I’m right there with you”

He sticks his tongue out and snickers, while Stan grumbles about needing a break.

(y/n) can’t help but giggle at both boys. Partially because she gets very giggly when tipsy, and partially because they’re the two funniest people she knows. Richie grins at her when he catches her laughing, only making her laugh more.

“How are w-we gonna do it?” Bill muses, not really looking for an answer, because there really isn’t one.

“We don’t,” (y/n) shrugs. “We avoid it until… there’s not really any other option”

“Dark” Ben mumbled.

“It’s true,” (y/n) argued. “If we go through this year with the mindset that this is the end, then we’ll push each other away, it’s psychology”

Eddie nods because he was in her class and is pretty sure he remembers hearing that.

“So we just live our best year” He agrees with her.

She high fives him.

“Well you’re already on your way,” Beverly said, and stood up from where she sat next to Mike so she could plop down next to her best girl. “What, with your fancy scholarship, and your boyfriend” She singsonged the word, and (y/n) wilted with embarrassment.

“Come on Bev-”

“Are you guys gonna stay together?” Stan asks, the gears in his head turning as soon as her boyfriend was mentioned. “I mean it’s been like… five months, right?”

“Four and a half” (y/n) mumbled, pulling her knees to her chest.

She stares down at her drink, and then takes a long swig. She had a feeling she’d need it.

Talking about her boyfriend when everyone was around was… awkward. It was one thing if it was just her and Beverly, but to have all the boys’ eyes on her every time his name came up made her feel hot, like she was being interrogated.

“So you’re kinda serious,” Stan shrugged. “How many times have you done it?”

She chokes, and coughs for a long moment before catching her breath.

“Stan you don’t get to-”

“Come on, just fess up,” Beverly giggles. “We won’t make fun! Promise!”

(y/n’s) cheeks go hot, and she knows they’re pink and that she’ll only be picked on more for it. She locks eyes with Richie, who winks at her, and now her face must be red.

“We- uh-” Her eyes dart away before she can choke and lose her train of thought again. “We actually um… haven’t… done… that” She says slowly, and with every reluctant word her voice gets softer.

“What?” Eddie screeches.

“No way,” Stan is laughing in disbelief. “Come on, just give up the number. What, ten? Fifteen? Twenty-?!”

(y/n’s) eyes are narrowed at him, silently yelling for him to fuck off.

“Really?” Beverly asks, just as shocked as the others.

Well, everyone was surprised.

“But he’s so…”

“Hot?” Eddie offers, only to get nudged in the ribs by the trashmouth next to him.

“I was going to say affectionate,” Beverly answers, staring skeptically at Richie. “He’s always hanging all over you, how have you not hooked up?”

(y/n) shrugs her shoulders and stares down at her drink again.

“I dunno” She mumbles weakly.

“Has he tried-?”

“This is super awkward, can we be done?” She asked, voice still soft, embarrassed.

“I mean come on, don’t you want to f-”

“Can we stop fucking talking about this, before I’m forced to visualize his dick?” Richie cuts in, faking a gag. “Oh, fuck, too late, thanks a lot you sluts”

Stan and Beverly are distracted by the comment and burst into laughter while Richie pretends to throw up.

After the conversation ends, and Ben starts talking about the colleges he’s deciding between, (y/n) glances over to her favorite glasses-wearing idiot. He catches her gaze, and she mouths ‘thank you’. He just smiles, before diving right back into conversation about why Ben should be an architect and not a poet.

A few beers later and they have to cut themselves off, because if they drink too much then Bill’s parents will notice and they’ll all get in trouble. They shouldn’t be drinking anymore anyways, because everyone’s relatively tipsy, and with the general excitable mood among the group, drinking more would be a bad idea.

Everyone’s lying on their backs, staring at the ceiling and talking about nonsense. What was once a serious conversation about their future has turned into a debate about what the most important thing to have when stranded on an island would be.

“A knife, definitely a knife” Mike argues.

“What? Fuck no, a gun” Stanley fights back, thus starting an argument about not having bullets because you can only choose one item.

“Flint? I guess? I don’t fuckin’ know” Beverly says sleepily. She didn’t care much for this discussion when it started, and forty five minutes later, she still doesn’t.

“I’d bring an issue of Maxim, for sure. Gotta keep busy you know-”

“Beep beep, Richie,” Eddie grumbles. “I’d bring an epipen. I’m allergic to everything on an island”

“Oh fuck off, you’re not allergic to sand” Richie smacks the boy on his arm for suggesting something so idiotic.

“I’d bring one of my grandpa’s sheep,” Mike spoke after what seemed like forever of deliberation. “It’d save his life and I’d have a companion”

“That’s sweet,” (y/n) cooed, smiling delightedly at the idea of Mike wanting a friend more than anything else. “I’ll take a sheep too, please”

The two break out into laughter for a few minutes, uncontrollable, belly aching laughter.

“You can’t copy Mike, come up with your own!” Eddie scolded, offended that (y/n) tried to break the rules of their made up game.

“Alright, alright, let a girl think first…” (y/n) folded her arms over her head as she squinted, to help her thought process. “Um… a book”

“A book?” Eddie laughed almost maniacally at her answer. “Alright, just fuckin’ take a sheep from Mike, that was even worse”

“What? No it isn’t,” (y/n) argued. “It’ll keep me occupied and entertained, and when it’s done I can read it over again”

“Lame” Eddie muttered.

She reached over to smack him, and sadly Bill got caught in the crossfire.

“You wouldn’t bring your lover?” Stan teased, and she almost hit him too. “You’d pick a farm animal over your boyfriend?”

“I didn’t think of it like that” She said quietly.

“I don’t get you guys,” Stan says, and she sighs because the conversation has somehow drifted to him, again. “I mean, it’s been four and a half months, and typically couples get it on for their one month. But you’ve had four anniversaries and still haven’t-”

“Why are you so interested in my business, Stanley?” (y/n) asked, a bit more defensive than she needed to be.

He raises his hands and pulls an innocent face.

“I’m just worried about you!” He retorts. “You’re the one in desperate need-”

“I’m not desperate for anything” She snaps.

“Yeah, Stan, she’s not a virgin, (y/n’s) gotten some before” Beverly makes an attempt to back (y/n) up, but it only makes her feel worse.

“What? But he’s her first boyfriend- oh my god, who was it?” Stan asks, way more interested in this topic now.

“Leave me alone” She rolls her eyes and shoves his shoulder.

“Oh god, it must be real embarrassing,” Eddie is giddy for the gossip now, sitting up to join in better. “Who was it?”

“Cut it out” She says a bit louder, sharp eyes meeting Eddies, a silent threat in them.

“Who was it, Bev?” Eddie asked, deciding to go the source it came from.

But she shrugs her shoulders, and makes an ‘I don’t know’ sound.

“What do you m-mean you don’t kn-know?” Bill stammers out.

“She didn’t wanna tell me” Beverly answers, simple as that.

(y/n) covers her face with her hands. She wishes she was more drunk than she was, because then maybe there was hope for recovering from this. Or maybe even forgetting completely.

“Must be real embarrassing,” Richie teases.

She peeks at him through her fingers.

“Bowers?” He asks with a raised brow, and she barks out a laugh.

Everyone laughs then, at the mere idea of anyone hooking up with that nutcase.

“I promised I wouldn’t tell, okay?” She admits after the laughter has died and all attention is on her again. “It’s private” She adds softer.

“Fine” Stan gives in, not wanting to make the girl anymore uncomfortable.

If they knew anything about (y/n), it was that she kept secrets and promises locked away forever. She was the most trustworthy person any of them had ever met. And she’d never break someone else’s trust either.

“But if you’ve done it before, why aren’t you, yaknow, still doing it?” Stan asks, and begins to giggle at his own words. “I mean, if I had a hot girlfriend, I’d be doing it like… all the time”

“Pervert” (y/n) mumbles.

“Did you just call (y/n) hot?” Eddie asks, and everyone ooohs at his catch.

“Alright, alright! Calm down, of course I did!” Stan announces, and a blush takes over the girl’s face again. But this time she’s not embarrassed, she’s flattered. “It’s an observation, okay? Jesus”

She giggles, and leans over to kiss his cheek.

“You guys are so dumb,” She mumbles. “I love you all so much”

“All I’m asking,” Stan declares, voice loud. “Is why you’re avoiding it!”

“I’m not avoiding it” She argues, but she knows she’s failed because it’s such a blatant lie, and any sober mind would be able to see that.

Luckily, no one in this room is sober.

“Oh yeah?” Stan scoffs. “Have you been home alone with him in the last four and a half months?”

“Yeah?” She asks, voice cracking slightly.

“And you didn’t screw him?”

“Watch it” Richie’s voice bites from where he lies a few feet away from them. Stan pays it no mind, but Bev kicks his leg, and furrows her brow at him, wondering why he gave a fuck what Stan had to say.

The others were either asleep, or didn’t want to step in on the mini argument (y/n) and Stan were having.

Ben and Mike had passed out on the floor a few minutes ago. And Eddie and Bill just sat and listened to the argument, wishing they could pass out.

“No, I- I didn’t,” (y/n) stammers. “But so? I don’t want to rush it-”

“Liaaaar,” Stan singsongs. “You don’t want to hook up with him”

“That’s not true!” She exclaims. “We-. we’re actually hanging out at his place tuesday night,” She tells him matter of factly. “Alone!”

“Ooh, good for you,” Stan retorts sarcastically. “That doesn’t mean shit unless you actually take your pants off”

Her face scrunches up as her eyes narrow at him. Now she’s angry, because he doesn’t believe her, and he’s not trying to. So what if she’s lying through her teeth? He’s her friend and he should believe her.

“I’m tired” She announces suddenly, and forces herself to stand up.

She steals one of the few blankets on Bill’s bed that he’d prepared for everyone. Her balance is a bit shaky as she wraps it around herself, and heads for the door.

“Goodnight” She calls, only once she’s left the room and is heading for the pullout bed in the living room sofa.

The room is silent for a few minutes after she’s left.

“Well fuck, you’re gonna have to apologize in the morning” Eddie mumbles, and San knows he’s talking to him.

“I didn’t think she’d get that pissed,” He replied guiltily. “I was just messin’, I thought she’d just get embarrassed. I don’t know what I did-”

“She doesn’t like talking about that stuff, dumbass,” Richie says. “Shit makes her uncomfortable”

“Well I didn’t know that-” Stan starts to argue.

Beverly stops him before he can start any more drama tonight.

“Don’t worry about it, Stan, she’ll be alright,” She says, and then gets up to get a blanket as well. “I’ll go talk to her to make sure she really is alright, goodnight”

The boys mumble a ‘goodnight’ back to her, and she descends the staircase to check on her friend, who’s laying facedown on the mattress.

“Oh, hon,” Bev laughs, and lays down next to her. “Don’t be so upset with Stan, he was just being dumb-”

“I know” (y/n) mumbles into her pillow.

Beverly pulls the blanket she’s brought with her and drapes it over her back, so she won’t get cold while she’s pouting.

“Then what’s troubling you?”

Her words are a bit slurred, but the care is still there.

“I just… I don’t know. I didn’t have to think about it before and now I can’t stop,” (y/n) admits with a sign. “And maybe I’m upset because… he’s right. Maybe I’m upset because he’s write and I wouldn’t admit it to myself, but I have been avoiding hooking up with him. I mean, so much could go wrong and I just… don’t want to have a bunch of drama our senior year, yaknow? I want it to be smooth and easy. And so far with him our relationship has been smooth and easy, but what if he’s wanted to do it this whole time and I keep dodging him and now he’s gonna break up with me?”

(y/n) lifts her head to turn to her redheaded friend for advice.

But Beverly is sound asleep, snoring softly against her pillow.

(y/n) can’t help but smile a bit, even though she really needed help sorting out her messy thoughts. But she wasn’t going to bother Beverly by waking her up.

So she carefully crept off the squeaky pullout mattress, and went back upstairs.

Ben and Mike are still asleep on the floor, but someone’s thrown a couple blankets over them.

Stan is on Bill’s bed, facing the opposite direction as Bill, and they’ve both knocked off as well.

Maybe everyone else had more to drink than her, she thinks as she shuts the door to leave them be. When she turns to head to the guest bedroom, she nearly runs into Eddie.

“Who are you looking for?” He asks right away.

He rubs his tired eyes, and she adores that he looks like a child when he does so.

“Um-”

“Richie’s in bed already,” Eddie says before she can answer. “If you’re gonna prank him, you might want to wait a few minutes, so you know he’s in a deep enough sleep”

(y/n) chuckles at the unprompted advice, and nods her head.

“Alright... thanks” She says.

Eddie doesn’t say anything else as he pushes past her to go to sleep in Bill’s room.

“You aren’t gonna sleep in the guest room?” She asks with furrowed brows.

“Fuck no, Richie kicks and talks in his sleep. I’d rather stay on the floor with those two” Eddie answers, and then gives her a small wave before shutting the bedroom door.

She takes a deep breath as she stands in front of the guest room’s door. And then before she could stop herself, she opens the door, and shuts it quickly behind her as she steps inside.

Richie's laying in bed, arms wrapped around the pillow that his face is pressed into. He mumbles a slurred ‘who is it?’ into the feathery cushion. But he knows it’s her before she even answers. Because as she sits on the side of the bed next to him, he can smell her perfume.

He squints up at her, having lost his glasses somewhere in Bill’s room, and wonders what she’s doing here.

“Surprise” She says weakly, and a slight smirk tugs on his lips.

“What’s goin’ on?” He asks, leaning his face back down into the comfort of the cool pillow. He was already getting a headache from the four beers he had. (He’d drank two of the three Eddie had gotten)

“Can we talk?” She asks in a voice so soft that she can only be referencing one thing.

Richie nods, and pats the space next to him with his palm.

She hesitates for just a moment, before giving in and laying down in the spot, grabbing a hold of the other pillow she mirrors Richie’s actions and hugs it under her head.

He doesn’t say anything, just lays there with his eyes closed in the dark and waits for her to go first.

“Was I….” She starts, but then bites her lip and shakes her head as she changes her mind. “When we…”

“...hooked up?” He offers.

It’s so casual, so quiet, that her heart skips a beat, because she can’t believe he can just say it like that. Speak their darkest, most carefully kept secret, out into the open like that.

“Yeah…” She mumbled back. “Was I… I don’t know… good?”

He opens his eyes now, and his brows furrow as he sees her anxious expression.

They hadn’t talked about it since it had happened, which was their deal, but after her argument with Stan he figured she was going to sneak in here and talk to him. He’s not sure why she looks so scared, though.

“Were you good?” He repeats her question, like he doesn’t understand it.

She nods her head.

“(y/n), of course you were good, you were you,” He chuckles, a genuine smile on his lips. The compliment, if you could call it that, made her blush. “He’ll be lucky to have you in his bed, alright?”

“Be honest with me,” She said. “Don’t just say stuff to make me feel better”

“I’m not” Richie grumbles, laying back down again.

His head his swirling a bit, and with her laying so close to him, it wasn’t helping.

“Why haven’t you done it yet, anyways?” He asks her after it’s been silent for too long.

“I…” She tries and fails to answer the question. But she’s her most honest self when she’s with Richie, and feels he deserves an explanation for her behavior tonight. “... was scared” She finishes after a few minutes.

“You’re scared of sex?” He mumbles, and she shakes her head.

“No… just… with him”

“That makes no sense, (y/n/n)”

“I know” She whispers out, and her fingers draw patterns on the sheets.

“You think he’s gonna… hurt you?” Richie asks, because as soon as the thought crosses his mind, he has to ask.

“No, of course not,” She replies, and lifts up his blanket so she can shimmy under it and warm up a bit. “Sometimes I feel like I just don’t know him” Her voice drops to a whisper again.

Her eyes are focused on his tee shirt, trying to figure out what band is advertised on it while Richie thinks. He’s not sure what to tell her, because of course he doesn’t want to promote her hooking up with him. But… the guy’s her boyfriend, so what’s he supposed to do?

“(y/n)....” He sighs, and subconsciously wraps an arm around her. His hand tangles in her hair, massaging her scalp comfortingly. “That’s not true, you’ve been together for a while now”

The logic is there, but she’s unconvinced.

“And besides,” He continues, and she looks up at him, meeting his kind eyes. “When you’re ready, you’ll know,” He says, and he grins before poking her cheek and nose. “But you already know that”

She giggles softly, swatting away his hand.

“I hate when you’re right, you know,” She says through a yawn.

Without thinking, she leaned her head into his chest.

“What if I don’t want to do it, though?” She asks. “What if… what if I don’t like it?”

“You hurt my feelings when you talk like you’ve never done it before”

“No more jokes,” She whispers. “I mean it”

“Then you tell him, and you stop,” Richie answers without missing a beat. “That’s how it works… you know that, right?”

“S-sure,” She stammers out. “But what if-”

“No, there’s no ‘what ifs’ about that one, (y/n/n),” He tells her seriously. “I’m not fucking around, if you want to stop then you-”

“Don’t worry, Rich,” She hums. “You don’t have to give me the consent talk, that’s not what I mean”

His brows furrow down at her, but she doesn’t see because her eyes are closed and her face is hidden in his shirt. For a second he’s distracted and wonders if he should be holding her like this when she has a boyfriend.

“What… do you mean, then?”

“What if I’m not… um…” She trails off, clearly embarrassed.

“Come on, don’t hold out on me now” Richie chuckles teasingly.

“... attracted to him… sexually?” She speaks like she’s unsure of her words, and it takes everything in Richie not to laugh out loud.

“That’s not something I can fix, hon” He tells her, and she can tell he’s holding back a laugh.

She’s silent, and Richie hopes she hasn’t fallen asleep, because knows it wouldn’t be right to share a bed for the night.

“I mean you’ve… done other stuff, right?” He asks, and even that seems wrong. He really shouldn’t even be talking to her about this, but it’s not his fault that he’s the only person she can talk to about this stuff.

(It’s maybe his fault that they slept together in the first place, but surely (y/n) can take some responsibility for that one)

“Not really” She says in a barely audible mumble.

“Not really?” He repeats, confused by the question. “All you’ve done is-”

“We’ve made out a couple times,” She tells him before she overthinks it and starts to feel uncomfortable. “That’s it”

“Clothes have never come off?” He asks with a chuckle he can’t contain.

(y/n) shakes her head.

“What the fuck is wrong with-”

“Richie…”

“-him?” He finished anyways, taking her by surprise that he wasn’t trying to bash on her. “Look, (y/n/n), it’s your relationship, you do what you want to do. But do you even see a future with him?”

She’s silent again.

And then she shuffles off the mattress, and heads for the door.

“(y/n),” Richie called with a sigh. “It’s just a question”

She held the open door in her hand, and looked back at him. He had a guilty but confused look on his face, and was propped up in ed, hoping she’d come back and finish talking.

“I’m tired, Richie,” She said softly. “Goodnight”

He let out a sigh, regretting having been so forward and pushing her out of her comfort zone. He hadn’t realized it when he’d asked, but he sure as hell could tell now.

“Goodnight” He said before she could shut the door behind her.

(y/n) was glad that Beverly was fast asleep on the pullout bed still, because all she did for the rest of the night is fuss to get comfortable, only to lay wide awake, overthinking.

Trying to figure out a future with her boyfriend in it. ___

[ oh feel our bodies grow, and our souls they play // yeah love i hope you know how much my heart depends ]

It was loud, it was so loud that the bass in the music playing was ringing in her ears, and making the liquid in her cup ripple. But that might have just been because she was stumbling around so much, trying to find somewhere to chill out for a minute in this sea of bodies.

Richie Tozier’s hand was holding on tightly to hers, pulling her behind him, acting as a guide through the chaos. But who was she kidding, he was the chaos. It was his house party after all.

How he’d even invited this many people, (y/n) wasn’t sure. It’s not like he knew everyone here, but word of mouth works fast in Derry, and a byob party that had half a dozen kegs and then some, not one student from their school missed it.

Even Stan was here… somewhere.

It was a bit hopeless to go looking for people in this crowd.

Finally Richie had taken them outside. There were still a couple dozen people hanging out in his backyard, but at least she could hear herself think, or take a step without bumping into someone.

“Thank god,” She huffed, pushing her hair out of her face and taking a drink. “I thought I was gonna get trampled to death in there”

Richie chuckles, eyes shining as he watched her finally relax a bit.

“You would’ve made this party worth talking about if you had” He teases her.

“I think it already is,” She replies with a small and nervous laugh. “The whole school’s here, Rich, I think people will be talking about it for a- who brought a kiddie pool?”

She cuts herself off as her eye catch a plastic pool, filled with eyes and the most beer she’s ever seen all at once. They definitely hadn’t brought it, although she’s surprised that none of them had thought of it when planning for this party.

“Don’t know” Richie shrugs, and then wanders over to grab them two bottles.

They’d been drinking soda all night, not wanting to get shit faced so they could keep an eye on things. But they were well past that, and at this point, whatever happens, happens.

She taps her glass against his in a quiet ‘clink’

“Cheers to you, Tozier” She says with a rather sweet smile, the kind that he compulsively smiles back at.

“And you” He replies, before tipping the bottle back and taking a long swig.

The thing about (y/n) was that… well, there was just this thing. An undeniable, unspoken, electric thing. There was something about her that drew Richie towards her like a magnet. Even tonight, he’d shown up at her side, and just like that they’d spent the last two hours together. She was such a lovely person, which was a rarity in this town.

He had a feeling that she owned his heart, even though he just had a silly teenage crush on her. But what had started as a silly crush, an admiration for her beauty, grew into an adoration of her entire being, her soul. He was falling for her, at a speed from the atmosphere, and he was bound to crash soon.

Her hand reaches out and seizes the sleeve of his denim jacket, yanking him towards her all in one motion. His heart’s beating out of his chest with anticipation, but as quickly as she’d grabbed him, she was shaking him out of his daze.

“You almost got knocked over,” She tells him, nodding to the pair of drunken boys with their arms slung around one another, stumbling around the backyard, trying to walk in sync. “You alright?”

“Yeah, sorry, out of it” He answered with choppy words.

He finds the crease between her brows adorable.

“You only took one sip,” She jokes, poking at his bottle. “Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?” She asks, holding four fingers in front of his face while giggling.

Richie rolls his eyes, grabbing her hand to pull it out of his face.

But he doesn’t let go.

And for the next hour, as they talk and drink a little and dance, her hand remains in his. She didn’t say anything about it, which he’s silently thankful for. Maybe she feels safer when attached to him, knowing she’s not going to get sucked into the crowd and lost. Or maybe she just… wants to.

They’re dancing in the living room, to a song neither of them knew, with a hundred strangers, when she finally mentions it.

“You’re blushing!” She announces, albeit a bit tipsy.

There’s a grin on her face, and with her free hand she pokes at the pink on his cheeks.

“Cut that out- what’s with you and jabbing your fingers at me today?” He says, trying to brush it off and get her to forget about it. It doesn’t work.

She bursts into a fit of laughter, and her body leans towards his a bit as she does.

She only lets go of his hand to wrap her arms around his neck and spin them around excitedly.

“You never blush,” She says. “So what’s on your mind?”

She sounds bubbly, as if his answer is amusing to her, and she’s impatient to hear it. Richie shakes his head, and wills the heat in his face to go away, but it doesn’t. Of course it doesn’t, she’s standing a few inches away from him and staring at him with those round and curious eyes that he loves and-

“You” He responds with a shrug.

His voice is cool and casual as ever, but he’s losing his shit on the inside.

Her lips form an ‘o’ as she processes the single word. For a second he regretted speaking, which was kinda normal for him, but then her eyes lit up and she giggles with delightful bashfulness.

A breath of a laugh escapes his lips as he laughs nervously with her.

“You’re adorably funny” She says, and takes him by surprise when she leans up on her toes, cups her face in one hand, and presses a kiss to his other cheek.

When she lands back flat on her feet, she’s amused by the grin that she’d put on his face.

“Drinks?” She asks, and when he pulls a face, she clarifies, “Non-alcoholic drinks”

“Fine” He agrees, and when they head out of the living room, her hand reaches out and grabs his, slotting her fingers through his with ease.

He glances down to her when she does so, but she just gives him a big and innocent smile.

They find their friends in the kitchen. Beverly and Eddie are quite… shit faced, while Bill is drinking water and trying to get them to have some as well. From what Richie and (y/n) could tell, his efforts were useless.

“Let them be,” (y/n) says, ruffling up Eddie’s hair with her free hand, only to get swatted away. “They’ll pay the consequences in the morning”

Bill shrugs and hums in agreement, but he tries to get them to drink something.

“What’s goin’ on here?” Bev asks, pointing at Richie and (y/n’s) conjoined hands.

Richie starts to let go, but she squeezes his hand and smiles almost proudly at her drunk friend.

“Well I don’t wanna get lost” She says confidently.

Beverly shrugs, not having the attention span to ask further questions, or really care.

“Is that- are you- is that rootbeer?” Eddie asks, and he squints at the can in (y/n’s) hand, like he can’t see. “You’re at a- a fuckin’ party and you’re drinkin’ a soda?”

“Leave her alone Eddie Spaghetti” Richie chides, smacking the shorter boy on the shoulder.

“Yeah, Eddie Spaghetti” (y/n) adds in a mocking tone, and giggles to herself at the nickname.

Eddie hates it, but he’s drunk off his ass, so there’s not much he can do about it. He’ll try to throw hands with Richie tomorrow.

Bev starts to tell a story about a fight she saw on the front lawn. It’s missing parts, and she’s having a hard time remembering most of it, but they listen because it’s funny and interesting.

(y/n) sat herself on the kitchen counter, drink in one hand and Richie’s hand in the other, laughing along and encouraging her to continue. Even when she finishes her story, she’s not sure what happened, or who was even fighting, but it doesn’t matter.

“It’s l-late,” Bill says, eyeing the stove that reads 2:15. “I think I should go”

“You’re not staying the night?” (y/n) asked.

Richie’s parents would be gone for another day, leaving plenty of time for the Losers Club to hang out, and clean up the trashed house everyone else left behind.

“No, I sh-shouldn’t,” He says. “B-but I’ll come b-back tomorrow to help with th-the mess” He adds in a reassuring tone.

“Alright Billy,” (y/n) reaches her arms out towards him, prompting him to hug her goodbye. She embraces him tightly for a short moment. “See ya tomorrow”

He gives a small wave, and then offers a ride to Eddie and Bev. They both decide to keep drinking and crash at the house. He’s not surprised.

“I feel like dancing!” Beverly declares, and is out of the kitchen before anyone could say a word.

“Man is she fuckin’ wasted” Eddie chuckles.

Richie and (y/n) burst out laughing at the irony, but don’t tell him why it’s funny when he asks why they’re laughing their asses off.

Eddie winds up sitting on the kitchen floor, and then laying on it, cradling an empty bottle of vodka to his chest.

“You gonna sleep down there with him?” Richie asks (y/n), and gives the asmathic on the floor a gentle kick.

(y/n) giggles and shakes her head, and without thinking, reaches out to grab onto his hands again. With a small tug, he steps closer, almost standing between her open legs. But he doesn’t dare move that close.

“No…” She answers after a minute. “There’s no way in hell you’re making me sleep on a floor”

“Well, if the beds are all taken-”

“Richard Tozier” She says his name firmly, “If you don’t give me a bed to sleep in like a human fucking being I swear I will-”

“You’ll what, sweetheart?”

His voice drops an octave, and his head cocks to the side a bit as he stares at her skeptically, wondering what it was she was about to say next. When her mouth is left hanging open, he smirks a little.

“Come on (y/n/n), you’re not the threatening type,” He speaks at a normal volume again, but his closeness and the look on his face doesn’t fade. “Besides, you got nothing on me”

“Oh, I doubt that-” She tries to argue, but he cuts her off again.

“Just try to think of something, you can’t. My record’s squeaky clean”

He leans a bit closer with every word, but the movement is miniscule, and she’s probably the only person in the room who could have noticed it.

As soon as he eyes wander to his lips, they dart right back up, but it’s too late, he caught the glance, and his smirk widens.

Richie quirks a brow in question, like an asshole.

She sets her soda can on the counter next to her.

“You really value me so little that you’ll make me sleep, where, on the floor? The bathtub?”

“I think the tub is still occupied, actually,” Richie says. “And the floor, well, it’s covered in trash and…” He looks down to Eddie, who’s very close to passing out. “... more trash”

(y/n) hits his chest with the back of her hand.

“That was for Eddie” She says, and Richie laughs.

She’s got an offended look on her face, and fuck if it wasn’t the cutest thing he’s ever seen…

“I’m just saying sweetheart…” He shrugs his shoulders innocently. “Your sleeping options aren’t looking great. Pretty much everywhere is taken”

She’s quiet for a moment, and he can tell she’s hesitant, because she bites down on her lip, and she has a hard time keeping eye contact. He doesn’t rush her to say whatever’s on her mind, just stands there, unmoving, and waits.

“Show me a bed, then, Tozier”

It’s soft, whispered like a secret, and unsure.

They’re both still for a beat, each waiting for the other to back out.

But neither do.

So he offers her his hand, which she gladly takes before hopping off the counter and following closely behind him. Through the thinning crowd in the living room, and then up the stairs.

When they’re in the hall, he casts a look over his shoulder to her, and her eyes meet his instantly.

There’s something serious in them that he’s never seen in her before. Like she was trying to tell him something, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it is.

Her free hand grabs onto the sleeve of his jacket, tethering herself to him. There was nowhere to get lost up here, everyone was downstairs. Except for the boy passed out in the bathtub, and Richie was fairly certain a couple passed out in his parent’s bedroom. But right now, they were alone.

He brings her to his room, carefully peeking in to make sure no one was in there, before letting her inside. He’s quick to shut and lock the door.

(y/n) gives him a look at the sound of the lock clicking, and his face flushes.

“I mean- it’d be weird if some frisky couple were to come in- while we’re in here” He defends his actions.

She just hums, and wanders over to his dresser, where his fish tank sat. She smiled at his goldfish before swirling the tip of her finger in the water.

Richie just admires her while she glances over his things. The picture frames, the trinkets and forgotten things he’s left there. She looks so natural standing there.

It wasn’t often that she was in his room, Richie’s house isn’t somewhere that everyone hangs out at, and (y/n) and Richie rarely hang out alone. It was kind of nice to have so much time with her tonight, just her. And still, he wanted it all the time.

She can feel his eyes on her, and when she turns around, she isn’t surprised that she was right.

She gives him a small smile, and clasps her hands together behind her back. It was a nervous habit she had, squeezing her hands together tightly, and Richie loved seeing her do it now.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been in here,” She says, desperately trying to fill the silence. “Hasn’t changed much though” She added in a quieter voice.

He doesn’t say anything, and it only amps up her nerves.

And then he strides over to her, rather quickly, and her breath caught in her throat as he’s suddenly towering over her, face a mere few inches away from hers.

She’s frozen, staring at him wide eyed and waiting for him to do something.

She’d thought he was going to kiss her, and when he didn’t, hear heart only beat harder in her chest.

“What?” She asks, wondering what he was doing if he wasn’t going to make a move.

“Nothing” He shakes his head, and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What are you doing then?” She questions him again, voice a hundred times softer.

He gives her a playful smirk, and she almost frowns at him, annoyed by the teasing.

“I’m not doing anything” He hums with a shrug.

She rolls her eyes, done with the games, and steps away. She needs a breath. Or two. Two very deep breaths.

But before she can, Richie’s hand shoots out and grabs her wrist, pulling her back so rough that she collides into his chest, making them both stagger for a brief moment, until his lips crash down into hers.

She’s just gotten her balance back when he pulls away, staring at her expectantly, waiting for her to tell him to stop.

Her lips are parted and she’s panting softly, still in shock, and her eyes flutter open to meet his.

She doesn’t tell him to stop, instead, she leans up on the tips of her toes to kiss him again, a much longer kiss that she wished he’d begun with.

They pulled away at the same time.

“We can’t tell the others!” They both rush out the words so fast, so panicked, but it disappears as they register the other agrees.

And then all at once they’re kissing again. His hands are gripping her hips, keeping her pressed completely against him, while hers are tangled in his hair, combing and gripping at his strands of curls.

Their lips move so feverishly, both desperate for every second to be fulfilling. They knew this was a once in a lifetime chance, that this was their only chance, and it had to be perfect.

They part for a few seconds, so (y/n) can catch her breath.

His nose prods against hers, before he takes her cin between his thumb and forefinger, turning her head to the side so that he can trail a line of kisses along her jaw, tracing up to the sweet spot just below her ear.

He bit the soft skin, because he couldn’t help himself. She gasped softly, and then giggled at the delightful and ticklish feeling of his mouth against the spot. Her hands tighten a bit in his hair.

Eventually, once he’s left a decent purple mark on her neck, she tugs on his hair, pulling his lips back to hers needily. She’s delicate as she glides over the seam of his lips with her tongue. Richie isn’t so sweet as he gladly tangles his own tongue with hers.

When she’s the one to win the battle for dominance, she smirks against his lips. But Richie’s quick to retaliate, turning her suddenly, and pushing her backwards until she runs into the wall.

Her lips detach from his as she grunts at the surprise contact, and her eyes shoot up to his out of annoyance.

“Jesus, fucking watch it” She mutters.

She grabs the collar of his jacket and yanks his lips back down to hers anyways, already craving more contact.

Kissing Richie Tozier is exactly as she expected, or more accurately dreamed, it would be. Bliss. Passionate. Hot.

She hastily shoves his jacket down his shoulders, and then practically clawed the sleeves off of his arms. As soon as it was discarded, his hands slammed into the wall on either side of her head, caging her in. She loves it.

She wonders if he’s really gotten her addicted to his lips in a matter of two minutes.

After a few more kisses, she confirms that he has.

Her arms wrap around his neck and she can’t hold back a smile.

They part for a moment, and then rush to his bed.

(y/n’s) giggling as Richie crawls over her, one hand caressing her cheek while the other is pinned to the bed as not to crush her. His thumb brushed over her cheekbone sweetly.

“You’re sure?” He asks, suddenly worried that he was rushing her.

But she nods, excitedly, and pulls his face down so she can kiss him again.

“But like-” Richie pulls away. “You’re sure you’re sure? Like absolutely positive?”

“Richie,” She laughs, shaking her head a bit. “Yes”

And that’s how it happened. ___

[ but i guess that’s love, i can’t pretend… i can’t pretend... ]

(y/n) had known Richie pretty much her whole life. And they’d always gotten along, despite his big mouth and his tendency to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. She found it endearing that he would call her hot stuff and then his face would go bright red, knowing he’d made a mistake.

But the thing was, that changed the day after they’d hooked up. They were still friends, they still hung out, and it wasn’t necessarily awkward, but it was different. He didn’t call her cute names anymore, not even sweetheart. He stuck solely to his nickname for her.

She wasn’t sure if it was because of their incident, or because she was seeing someone. It often felt like she was walking on eggshells around him, unsure of what to say or do. It was like as soon as they’d crossed the line between friends and more than friends, she wasn’t sure how to go back to being just friends.

And she hadn’t ever thought of Richie as boyfriend material. Even when they’d hooked up, she hadn’t considered the idea of being with him romantically. Sure, he was attractive and funny and… charismatic, exciting, and somehow tender at the same time-”

“Babe..? Babe?”

(y/n) snapped back to reality, spinning around to see her boyfriend standing behind her. He gave a short laugh before nodding to the dish in her hand that she must have been scrubbing for a few minutes now.

“Daydreaming?” He asks, while she bashfully set the very clean plate on the counter.

“Something like that” She replied, and went on to cleaning the next dish.

They’d had a nice dinner, one they both prepared. She thought it would be fun to cook with him, maybe they would even listen to music and dance around the tiled floor. But her boyfriend wasn’t that kind of guy, and this wasn’t a romantic comedy.

Richie would dance in the kitchen with me-

“So!” (y/n) spoke, a little too loud as she tried to rid her own thoughts from her head. “Movie?”

Her boyfriend grinned, and gave her a thumbs up before leaving the kitchen and heading to the living room to pick out a good movie for them to watch.

(y/n) went back to distracting herself with doing the dishes. But her pesky thoughts kept on getting in the way of her task.

Thinking of Richie in a romantic light made her feel dazed. He was Richie. Trashmouth Tozier, the boy she grew up with that was infamous for trying to ride his bike off the cliffside at the quarry. He wasn’t someone you had a crush on, he was someone you always had a dumb story about.

But besides that, it simply wasn’t fair of her to think of him this way. They had both agreed that what they had was a one time thing, and it didn’t mean anything to either of them. They were just friends, and that was all either of them wanted to be.

At least, that’s what she’d always told herself.

But when she thought back on last summer, all she could remember was how badly she wanted him to kiss her that whole night. And when he finally had… it felt like she was flying.

Drying the last dish, she left it on the counter, and forced herself to relax on the couch with her boyfriend.

Whatever movie he’d picked, she’d never heard of, and it only took seven minutes of watching it for her to realize why. It was boring.

She was so damn near close to passing out, even though he seemed excited to share it with her.

“Hey,” She hummed after half an hour of forcing herself to stay awake. He hummed in response, but didn’t look away from the television.

So she took matters into her own hands, and turned his head so she could kiss him.

She poured all of the passion that she could into the kiss, hoping to convey that she wanted him, and she wanted him now.

But how could she do such a thing when it wasn’t true? She simply wasn’t convincing enough. Not to him, or herself.

Defeated, she pulled away from him, and by the look on his face, she knew that he sensed her disappointment. Which was ironic, because he had never been in sync with her emotions in the last four and a half months they’d been together.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

There was a deep frown on her face, and her eyes were so apologetic that he just knew what was coming next.

“I’m sorry” She mumbled out.

“(y/n)...?” He was hoping that by some miracle she wasn’t about to break up with him.

“I can’t do this anymore” She finished weakly, voice cracking a bit as her throat burned with tears.

“What do you mean?” He asked. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

She didn’t say anything, just shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to keep herself from crying. It would be pathetic if she broke up with him and she was the one to cry about it.

“Whatever it is I can work on it, we can fix it-”

“No, you can’t-”

“Yes I can-”

“You can’t fix this!” She shouted, not meaning to come off as angry, but her emotions had flustered her and it was making her frustrated. “Because there’s nothing to fix, there’s nothing here” She clarified, her hands flying between them.

“What do you mean there’s nothing here?” He asked, sounding broken. For a moment, she felt bad for saying something so cruel. “Is there someone else?”

And then her guilt disappeared.

“What? Of course not-”

“Well there- there has to be!”

“Well there isn’t!” She shouted back. “Jesus Christ, don’t make this more difficult than it has to be,” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t feel anything, anything, for you! I thought with time that I could learn to love you, but I haven’t. There’s no spark-”

He seized forward, taking her face in his hands and kissing her frantically.

But just as soon as his mouth crushed over hers, she shoved his shoulders with all the force she could muster, and leapt off of the sofa.

She was stunned to silence at first, surprised that he’d done something so dramatic and… disgusting.

“I’m done,” She said, heading for the door, and putting on her shoes and coat with lightning speed. “Don’t fucking call me- don’t talk to me at school, I’m done”

He tried to call after her, but she slammed the door behind her as she stormed out, and ran down the sidewalk, just in case he had the idiotic idea to chase after her.

She slowed at the end of the block, mentally striking herself upside the head at the thought. Of course he wouldn't chase after her. It would be an act of passion for him to pursue her, and he would be in denial to think he was any more in love with her than she was with him.

It dawned on her that she’d been in denial for the past four months for thinking she could learn to love him. You can’t learn to love anybody, it has to come naturally. And there wasn’t one natural thing about their relationship.

She wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm in the chilly december air, and walked the rest of the way home. She’d had enough of today, and just wanted to crawl into bed, and try not to cry. ___

When the doorbell rang, Richie ignored it. Surely his parents would get it, and he could stay in bed.

When it rang again, he shoved his pillow over his head.

It wasn’t until the third time the sound rang that he remembered his parents were at an event in Augusta tonight.

So with a groan, and the realization that whoever it was, wasn’t going to go away, he dragged himself out of bed, and down the stairs.

It was almost midnight, who the fuck was a the door? He decided if it was some freshman ding-dong ditching him, that he’d run them down and ruin their shit.

When he whipped open the door, he also opened his can of whoop ass on the unsuspecting freshman.

“Do you realize that it’s the middle of the fucking ni-”

He shut up real fast when he realized it was (y/n) standing there, who now looked incredibly taken off guard to have been greeted so harshly.

“(y/n)?”

It was only then that he realized she was crying softly.

“Oh- oh my god, I’m sorry- I thought you were-”

“It’s fine” She said, and then sniffled quietly.

“What- what are you-”

“I’m sorry, it’s not r-right of me to show up in the middle of the night,” She whimpered a little bit, and wiped her sleeve over her cheeks to get rid of her tears. “I should go home-”

“No,” Richie reached out, taking her wrist and tugging her inside. “Come in, stay” He rushed the words out while shutting the door, not wanting her to leave, and especially not like this.

She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stop her own shivering. She didn’t even want to look at Richie while crying, but at the same time-

“So what’s going on-?”

Before he could even finish talking, she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder.

Richie stumbled a bit from the sudden force of her hug, but wrapped his arms around her nonetheless and hugged her tightly.

It was obvious that she was trying to stop crying in front of him, but she just couldn’t help it.

“Did something happen?” He asked, but received no answer. “Are you hurt?”

He could feel her tears seeping into the fabric of his tee shirt.

“Hey, sweetheart,” He called softly, and pulled her away to look at her. She kept her eyes shut, which made him chuckle, but eventually she looked up at him. “Come on, (y/n/n),” He hummed. “Talk to me”

She took in a deep breath, and Richie mentally prepared himself for whatever was going to come next. It must be serious if she came to him instead of Beverly, or Eddie.

“I couldn’t have sex with him” She murmured.

Richie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and confusion, and a feeling he wasn’t quite sure of. He never would have guessed that’s what had her so distraught.

“Um…”

“I know,” (y/n) cried out, tears streaming down her cheeks again. “It’s pathetic, I’m so pathetic!”

“(y/n),” Richie said, setting his hands on her shoulders so she would calm down. “You’re not- where is this coming from? Why are you so upset about this?”

It took her a minute to catch her breath, and her tears hadn’t really stopped flooding, but at least she could speak again.

“I broke up with him” She admitted.

Richie’s eyes widened, and again, she’d done what he’d least expected. Her eyes were darting between his, trying to figure out what he was thinking. But he looked so shocked, she couldn’t tell.

“Do you think I made a mistake?” She asked in a murur, her hands resting against his chest, and her body gravitating towards his a bit more from the sensitive question.

“I…”

He was having a hard time maintaining eye contact with her, his brain moving far too fast and his train of thought going in too many different directions for him to comprehend what he even thought.

“You do, don’t you?” (y/n) asked defeatedly. “I should’ve tried harder- maybe I could have loved him-?”

“What? (y/n), no, don’t think like that,” He scolded her gently. “If you didn’t feel anything, then that’s it, that’s the end, it didn’t work”

She stares down at her feet.

“(y/n)...” Richie sighed, lifting her chin softly with his hand. “Did you even like him?”

She shrugged her shoulders, which was answer enough.

“Oh, (y/n),” His thumb stroked gently against her jaw, before he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her again. “If you didn’t like him there was never even a chance of you falling in love- that’s just not how it works sweetheart”

(y/n) grabbed the back of his shirt in her fists, just wanting to hold onto him for a few moments longer.

“How’s it work?” She mumbled into his shoulder after embracing for a few moments.

“Well first of all, you don’t learn to do it, it just happens,” He chuckles, and his hands begin to rhythmically rub her back. “And you won’t find them boring. That guy was a sack of fucking potatoes (y/n/n) I don’t know what you were doing with him-”

“Yeah yeah I get it,” She cut him off before he could go on. “What else?” Her voice was so soft, so full of curiosity for where these kind words were coming from, that she just had to know what more Richie thought about the subject.

“Well…” He hummed, still rubbing her back as he thought. “You typically enjoy their company, more than anyone else’s, even if you won’t admit it,” He was thinking out loud. “And they’ll always be the prettiest thing in your eyes- even when they won’t stop crying all over you” He teased.

She glared up at him, and wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

“Come on, be real,” She said. “He was nice, and cute, and he really liked me, why wasn’t there a spark?”

He shook his head at her.

“Like I said. Can’t learn to love someone, and you can’t force what isn’t there,” He shrugged. “I’m sorry though. You’re clearly bothered by it”

She wanted to explain that she wasn’t bothered by the breakup at all. She was bothered by the mixup in her feelings. By what she thought to be true- but wasn’t quite sure yet.

“You want tea? Or something?” He offered after she hadn’t spoken for a few beats.

“No,” She shook her head, and then stepped back from him. “A blanket would be nice though? I had to walk the whole way here and it’s freezing”

Richie chuckled, and nodded.

“‘I’ll get one from upstairs. Be right back”

He headed off rather quickly, taking the steps two at a time to get a blanket from his room.

The one time she’d stayed overnight, she’d really liked one of his- and he’d know, because she hogged it, and he had to wake her up to get her to share. So he figured that one would do fine.

At the sound of a soft knocking at his door frame, he turned to see (y/n) standing there.

Her eyes were wandering around his room, mapping it out like it was her first time here. However, she hadn’t been here since…

He didn’t miss the blush on her cheeks when her gaze landed on his bed, the covers messed up from his attempts to sleep earlier. And then finally, she looked at him.

“Oh,” She smiled, and walked into the room, taking the blanket from his hands. “You remembered” She said with a small laugh as she wrapped it tightly around herself.

It was still a little bit warmed, and smelled so distinctly like Richie, it made her want to melt into it. And she nearly did for a moment.

“Well how could I you almost made me freeze to death that night” He muttered teasingly.

“Fuck off, I did not” She played back, but her voice was much gentler than his.

He gave her a look as if to say ‘you did though’, which she only rolled her eyes to.

Deciding it’d be best to ignore him, she walked over to his dresser to excitedly play with his fish. It didn’t do much, but it did swim back and forth in front of her finger, which was amusing enough.

“You… want to watch a movie?” Richie asked.

He didn’t want her to leave, but he didn’t know how to offer her to stay the night either.

“Sure” She answered, and followed him downstairs.

Richie made her pick the movie, that way whatever they watched she wouldn’t lose interest in.

“What?” She’s asked when he tried to leave the room for popcorn.

“I said pick whatever you want so you actually watch it and enjoy it” Richie repeated himself, and was in the kitchen before he could see her face change expressions.

Her heart skipped a beat in her chest, and all she could do was stare at where he stood with his back to her. She didn’t even bother looking at his DVD collection, and followed him into the kitchen.

“You want me to pick a movie I like?” She asked him.

Richie gave her a weird look over his shoulder as she set the timer on the microwave.

“What? Yeah” He answered.

“But you’ll hate it,” She said matter-of-factly. “It’s a chick flick, it’s real cheesy, not even Eds would watch it with me”

“Okay?” Richie repeated. “You setting me up to hate it?”

She stared at him skeptically, and Richie had a similar look on his face, but only because he was very confused.

“Just pick a movie, (y/n/n), anyone’s fine” He chuckled.

He pulled the bag of popcorn out of the mic when it beeped, and dumped it’s contents into a large bowl. When he turned back around, (y/n) was still standing there. His brows furrowed, and he popped a kernel into his mouth.

“Would you dance with me?” She asked him.

Her volume was so soft he almost didn’t catch what she’d said, but when he processed the words, he was sure he’d heard her wrong.

“What?”

“Would you dance with me?” She repeated, a bit more clearly. “If I asked?”

“Is…. that what you want to do?” Richie spoke unsurely, trying to figure out what part of the breakup process ‘dancing’ would fall under. He shoved more popcorn into his mouth.

“I just wanna know” She shrugged.

“I mean, sure, but then the popcorn would get cold, it’s only good when it’s-”

“Richie” She mumbled, and by some miracle he actually heard her, and stopped rambling. He knows from the way she’s staring at him, and the sudden softness in her voice that something’s up. He waits for her to continue, but she doesn’t.

“What?” He feels like he’s lost, because he really has no idea what’s going on with her tonight. This breakup had really thrown her for a loop, he supposed

“Nothing” She shook her head, and before he could question her about her strange behavior, snatched the popcorn bowl and made a break for the living room.

When they got settled on the sofa and the movie (y/n) picked began to play. They were sat side by side, the bowl of popcorn separating them. She tucked her feet up underneath her in an attempt to be more comfortable, and kept on fussing with the blanket. It was like no matter how many times she readjusted, she just couldn’t get settled.

Eventually, she sighed, and looked over at Richie.

Low and behold, he was completely wrapped up in the plot of the movie, and hadn’t noticed a thing. (y/n) smiled at this, loving that he’d actually gotten into her lame romantic comedy. She leaned her head back on the cushion as she admired him. He was so serious when he was focused on something, his jaw set in place, eyes trained on the screen. It was so cute how drawn into the movie he really was.

Something happened that made him laugh, and he turned to (y/n) to crack a joke about it, but whatever he was about to say was lost on him when he caught her eyes already locked on him.

“Would you do it again?” She asked, before he could think of anything to say. He doesn’t have to ask her to clarify what she means, because he knows, he can tell by the way she’s studying him. “Ever?” She adds in a mumble after he’s been quiet for just a beat too long.

“Well, that’s a trick question now isn’t it?” He chuckles, but she shakes her head.

“No,” She speaks softly, “It’s not, I’m just wondering,”

She’s looking up at him so innocently that he wonders what sparked this question. Not that he hadn’t been thinking about it every minute of every day for the past four and a half months or so. He just didn’t think it ever crossed her mind. They had sworn to each other that it was a one time thing, no pesky strings or feelings attached. And Richie had thought she’d stuck to that promise pretty well- mostly because not a week later she’d gotten asked out, and then she dated the guy for a while.

“There’s no wrong answer, Rich,” She giggles, a nervous little sound that was the result of her heart doing backflips in her chest. “Really”

His eyes flicker between her impatient ones, testing to see if that were really true.

“Kind of” He says.

Her brows furrowed, signaling that there apparently was a wrong answer, and he’d said it.

“Kind of-?”

“Well, there’s a lot I’d do differently” He muses with a shrug of his shoulders, before she could get upset and ask him just what the hell ‘kind of’ means.

She angles her body a bit more towards his, waiting eagerly to hear what he has to say. But he gives her a confused look.

“What would you do differently?” She asks. She sounds restless, and Richie chuckles to himself. “Come on, really”

“For starters, I wouldn’t have chosen to do it at my own houseparty. Someone busted the coffee table you know, and I blame you for that-”

“What else?” She asks abruptly.

“Alright well,” Richie huffs, deciding there was no turning back now, because she was already more than eager to hear what he was thinking. “Also probably should’ve been a little more sober, just a little,” She laughed quietly, but didn’t speak so that he’ll keep talking. “And I would’ve grabbed an extra blanket, had I known you were a blanket hogger”

She laughs again, and this time he laughs with her. It’s a sweet moment, for it being so vulnerable.

“And I would’ve made sure you didn’t go in the morning” He confesses, in the midst of their laughter. (y/n’s) laughter stops instantaneously.

“What?” She murmurs, like she’d heard him wrong, because she must have heard him wrong.

“Yeah,” He shrugs. “I wouldn’t have let you go”

She blinks, stunned.

“You wanted me to stay?” She asks, a sweet little whisper that was bound to make everything come crashing down.

“Of course I did,” Richie chuckles. “I’d be an idiot to let you- I was an idiot to let you go. I hated that feeling,”

She’s silent again, her lips parted as the more he explained himself, the more surprised she was.

“It felt like- like I’d made the biggest mistake of my life- and trust me sweetheart, sleeping with you was a miracle- but if I could do it over again I wish that I could’ve...um…”

She’s waiting, hanging on to every word he spoke. She doesn’t realize that she’s leaning closer to him, too antsy to wait for him to find his voice.

“(y/n/n) if I’m being honest then I would’ve told you how I felt- about you- that night”

“How you felt about me?” She repeats in disbelief, and then sits upright on the couch, realizing they’re only a few inches away from one another.

Richie watches her as she takes the popcorn bowl and sets it to the side. And then leans back in towards him again, giving him her undivided attention.

“And how did you feel about me?” She murmurs.

Her hands set on his wrists, grasping onto them softly as his hands reach out to wrap around her waist.

“How didn’t I feel- Jesus I liked you so much I lost my fucking mind when you wanted me too”

Once he’s holding her firmly, she lets go of his hands to rest her palms on his shoulders, tilting up towards him to be more at his height. Even sat on the couch Richie practically towered over her.

“I didn’t know it was more to you than a quick fuck” She hums. Her voice is too sweet to be saying something so filthy, and it makes him chuckle just a bit.

He couldn’t help but tug her hips forwards, small prod really, but she took the bait and swung her leg over his lap.

“There was nothing quick about it sweetheart,” He teases, and as she situates herself on his lap, he releases one of his hands from her waist to gently trail his fingers over her throat, until his hand settles against the side of her neck. She’s blushing, but she’s smiling with anticipation.

He pulls her towards him a bit, and the tip of her nose presses against his cheek, her lips barely ghosting his. When her eyes flickered shut, Richie smirks

“And you were never a quick fuck”

She leans in, wanting nothing more than to kiss him and never stop. There was more electricity between them in this moment than she’d ever felt with her ex, and the realization made her feel like she was alive again.

Just as her moment of liberation is about to happen, the doorbell rings.

Richie brushes it off and cups her cheek, leaning in to kiss her anyways, but then his visitor started screaming.

“Richiieeee!” The distinct voice of Eddie Kaspbrack rings out from the other side of the door. “Dude! Open up! I got some drama for you!”

Richie and (y/n) turn to look at each other, equally confused.

“Let’s just pretend he’s not there” Richie says, making her giggle as he finally tries to kiss her.

And then Eddie lets himself in.

“I’m coming in!” He announces, and shuts the door behind him. “You’re not gonna believe this! (y/n) broke up with-”

It doesn’t surprise the couple on the couch when Eddie stops talking, and stares wide eyed and open mouthed.

“What the fuck is going on here!?” He’s screaming, which also isn’t a surprise, but it’s very upsetting.

(y/n) calmly slides off of Richie’s lap, and he lets go of his hold on her.

“Nothing” They say at the same time, unconvincingly.

“You were on his lap-” Eddie accuses.

“I-”

“You were kissing-!”

“No-?” Richie tries.

“You guys have been fucking this whole time!” He screeches.

“No!” Richie and (y/n) speak simultaneously again.

“Wait,” (y/n) walks over to Eddie. “How did you know I broke up with-”

“He called me” Eddie shrugged.

“What?”

“Yeah, he was trying to call you, but you never picked up. Clearly you weren’t home, because you were here, letting Richie get in your pants- jesus fuck (y/n) I thought you had better standards-”

“Stop it” (y/n) hissed, before frustratedly running her hands through her hair.

Richie shot up from the couch, walking over in hopes of convincing her to sit back down and relax again. But she shrugged off his hand and continued to pace around between him and Eddie.

“Very uncool, dickwad” Richie muttered to Eddie, who gave him an exasperated look and flipped him off.

“Why’d you come here then?” (y/n) spoke up.

“Um… huh?” Eddie played stupid.

“Why’d you come here? If my ex called you looking for me, why’d you come to tell Richie the news?”

Eddie and Richie shared a look, only making the girl more confused.

“I- well I thought you’d be here, you know, for support-”

Eddie shut up when the girl narrowed her eyes in disbelief. He was never a good liar, and (y/n) had a pretty good bullshit detector.

“This isn’t important,” Eddie shook his head. “What’s important is that he’s heartbroken, and looking for y-”

“I don’t care,” (y/n) said with a humorless chuckle as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t fucking care! He’s the worst, and he’s insane to think that he was ever in love with me. Had a real boring way of expressing it-”

“Uh, I’m not here to tell you to get back together with him” Eddie said before she could yell anymore.

“What are you here for, then?” (y/n) asked.

“I could ask you the same thing” Eddie shoots back, and smirks victoriously between the two.

Richie’s just standing there, knowing better than to open his mouth. If he did, something bad would slip and he knew it, so he stared down at the ground.

(y/n) puckers her lips, casting a glance to Rich before back to Eddie.

“Well?” The asthmatic boy asks. “What the fuck were you guys up to?”

“None of your business,” Richie says before (y/n) has the chance to say anything. “You should go, Eds, I’ll call you tomorrow. We’re busy”

“With what?” Eddie’s practically daring Richie to confess.

“We’re watching a movie, don’t make me fucking kick you out”

Eddie rolls his eyes, bored with the lack of drama, and then heads for the door.

As soon as he closes it, he whips it open again, pointing an accusatory finger at the pair left standing there, as if he’d caught them in the act.

“Go, Eds” They both say, with the utmost annoyance in their voices.

This time when he left, they both watched the door, as if waiting for him to jump back into the room again. When it was clear he’d actually gone this time, (y/n) let out a sigh of relief.

She looked at Richie, and then back to the couch, where the movie, the popcorn bowl, and her blanket were left unattended.

“I should probably g-”

“You wanna stay the night?” Richie asked before she could finish her sentence, and her eyes shot up to his.

“Really?” She asked in disbelief.

Richie just nodded, and so she hesitantly nodded back.

“Okay” She agreed softly.

“I’ll find something for you to sleep in,” He told her. “You can finish the movie if you want” And with that he headed up the stairs.

At this point, she was more confused than ever. She had no idea where her and Richie stood now, the line between friendship and something… else… was so warped in her mind that she couldn’t tell how he felt anymore.

Richie came back down a few minutes later, finding her sat on the couch with the movie paused and the popcorn bowl in her lap. He grinned as he handed her a long sleeved shirt and a pair of sweatpants that looked very soft.

After changing quickly in the bathroom, she concluded they were the coziest things she’d ever worn. And Richie’s scent and laundry detergent lingered in them, making every inhale of breath she took be inviting.

When she came back out, Richie was on the couch, just waiting. His back was turned to her, and she could tell he was drumming his hands on his legs, a frequently done nervous habit of his.

She stood there for a moment, too anxious to walk over and sit with him like nothing had happened in the last half hour. Even though with everything that’s happened, her heart was beating a mile a minute with no end in sight.

Richie must’ve realized she was there, because he turned and made a face as if to ask why she was just standing there.

His expression softened though when his eyes landed on her figure. She looked so goddamn cute in his clothes that were just a bit too big for her. And by just a bit, I mean the sleeves kept falling over her hands and the waistband of the sweatpants had probably been rolled three times to keep the fabric from barely touching the ground.

He thought he was gonna have a stroke.

“You gonna come sit, sweetheart?” He finally spoke, “Or just stand there and look pretty all night?”

She laughs, and the tension in the room thins out a little as she makes her way over to sit with him again. Richie plays the movie again, and just like before, gets sucked right into it.

(y/n) sort of watches it, but has little attachment to what’s going on. Her mind is too busy processing everything, there was no capacity to keep an eye on a film as well.

The popcorn bowl is empty, so she can’t distract herself with eating. And she’s already tapping her fingers on her knee to a made up beat in her mind. How Richie is able to actually watch this movie right now is beyond her.

“(y/n)?” He asks, and she realizes he’s been staring at her for a while, trying to get her attention. She hums in response. “Do you want me to shut off the movie?”

Her eyes are wide as they meet his.

“W-why?” She stammers out.

“Because you aren’t paying attention at all,” He chuckles. “Are you tired? It is like… one in the morning”

“Uh- yeah, I-I guess” She stumbles over her words again, and balls up the fabric of her blanket in her hands.

He gives her a dorky little smile, and then stands to turn off the tv. She watches him grab the empty bowl before leaving the room.

She gets up to follow him into the kitchen, but he waved her off.

“You should go up to bed,” He says. “I’ll finish up down here”

She doesn’t know what else to say, so she follows the instructions.

It dawns on her that she hasn’t told her parents that she won’t be coming home tonight, but as she gets situated in Richie’s bed with her new favorite blanket, she just can’t seem to care. She decides a lecture when she comes home tomorrow is worth it.

She’s under all the covers, and her face is buried deep into a pillow when Richie finally comes up. He smirks at how settled she’s already gotten.

“You sleeping already?” He asks quietly, and her eyes open to smile at him.

“No, ‘m waiting” She hums, before snuggling her face back into her pillow.

“Waiting?” He asks, and walks closer to hear her better.

“Mhm”

“For… Santa?”

“For you, dummy,” She giggles softly, and then makes a grabby hand towards him. “Hurry up”

He laughs, and shakes his head at her, before kneeling onto the bed.

“I kinda thought I should sleep on the-”

“In here,” She whispers, hand finding his wrist and latching onto it. “With me, please” She adds in a much softer voice, like she’s embarrassed to ask, and he knows that she is.

“Okay…” Richie hesitantly gets under the covers. “As long as that doesn’t bother you”

“It didn’t before” She replies casually.

Her eyes are closed, but he smiles warmly at the comment. He thinks she’s falling asleep, but he was wrong, because her hand trailed from his wrist so that her fingertips were pressed into his palm.

“Richie?” She calls quietly.

He hums.

Her eyes open, and she squirms a little closer to him, finding comfort in the heat he radiated.

Her fingers slot into the spaces between his perfectly, and she grasps his hand tight.

“You weren’t a quick fuck for me either,” She admits gently.

He can see in her eyes that she’s uncertain, that she’s nervous to say anything, so he squeezes her hand to reassure her that she can tell him anything.

“And I wanted you long before that night, I just… um…” She licks her lips anxiously before continuing. “I didn’t think that you uh… actually wanted me, you know, like, more than…” She doesn’t finish her thought, but she doesn’t have to.

Richie gives her a smile, and then reaches his free hand out to brush his knuckles over her cheek. She smiles back at the comforting touch.

“You’ll stay in the morning?” He whispers, and she nods, brows drawn together as her smile widens. “Good” He breathes out in relief.

They lean in simultaneously, and their lips touch in a soft and sweet kiss. (y/n) relishes in how her lips seemed to have his committed to memory, and she melts against him once again.

She pushes forward so that her body is flush against his, and her free hand is holding his shirt in a fist. She’s filled with more love and lust and happiness that a girl can be, practically overflowing with it, even.

Richie pulls away too soon for her liking, tucking a strand of her hair back behind her ear tenderly before meeting her gaze.

“If anyone asks,” He tells her, “That was our first kiss”

(y/n) giggles, and nods her head before kissing him sweetly again.

“Okay” She agrees.

His fingers comb through her hair for a few moments, and he contemplates laying here, like this, with her, for the rest of his life. The quiet moment is so serene, so perfect, that he can’t imagine ever being happier than he is right now.

(y/n) whispers something, but it’s so soft that he only catches her lips moving.

“What?” He muses, and instantly there’s a pink blush blooming across her cheeks. “What?” He asks again, this time chuckling at her bashfulness.

“I love you…” She murmurs, only darkening her blush.

Richie pulls her into his chest, wrapping her up in his arms as he cradles her close for the night.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” He responds with a kiss to the top of her head. “Let’s do it right this time, okay?”

“M’kay” She hums back delightedly, already beginning to fall asleep in his arms.

It took months of agony and confusion to get here, but it couldn’t be clearer now. This is what love was supposed to feel like. She hadn’t learned to love before because that’s simply not how it works. Her heart already belonged to someone else, and she hardly even knew it. But now, it and she were all his, and he’d take good care of them.

[ i guess that’s love, i can’t pretend. ]

___

taglist: @fiantomartell @lemonypink @darling-egg

xoxo ~ jordie

#it 2017 #it 2019 #richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier scenario #richie rosier fanfiction #finn wolfhard #bill hader

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dearest-bucky · 4 years ago

Text

Birthday wish (One Shot)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes doesn’t love his birthdays, but maybe he can learn to.

Words: 2.5K

Warnings: none, a fluffy ending as usual hihii

A/N: I was supposed to write and post this on Bucky’s birthday but couldn’t find it in me to do, so here it is now. I hope you like it! Feedback is truly appreciated! xx

Originally posted: March 19. 2020

Monday, 11:05 PM

It was late and they were all battered and exhausted, but despite that, they still had to swipe the place to find any new information on Hydra and then blow it up to hell.

What was supposed to be a simple recon mission, ended up being a real bloodbath. As always. When has there ever been such thing as a simple mission with the Avengers? Something would always come and fuck up the plans for an easy in and out job.

This time the fuck up came in the form of more than a dozen Hydra thugs charging at them with guns and knifes, resulting in the death of them of course. But despite the result and the fact that they won the battle, the Avengers didn’t come out without scratches or wounds themselves.

Steve had a busted lip, Bucky was having technical problems with his arm because of a bullet that was caught in it, Sam had a seemingly deep gash on his side that kept oozing blood out and Y/n was fuming because ‘she had just done her nails the other day and she broke one of them while fighting with those Hydra bastards’.

“Thirty seconds until explosion.” Steve informed over the comms and all of them made a run for the jet before they could get caught in the big boom.

As soon as they got in, y/n was on Sam’s side, helping him with his wound.

“C'mon Bird Man, I have get you out of this shirt if you don’t want to die of bleeding out.”

“If you wanted to see me naked all you had to do was ask sweetheart.” Despite the fact that his skin was paler than ever before and he was losing all energy, Sam still couldn’t give up him sense of humor.

Bucky who was sitting just a few inches away, chuckled at his words but said nothing anyway.

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully and pressed on his gash with an alcohol pad a little more than necessary, making Sam wince in pain. Then she continued to clean his wound and did her best to stop the bleeding until they got to the compound. She was no doctor after all, and every specific procedure would have to wait for a real specialist of medicine.

Tuesday, March 10 3:34 AM

After arriving at the compound and literally taking Sam with force to the medical bay, Y/n could finally get to her own room and get a well deserved shower. The mission had taken a toll on her, same as on everybody else, but to be fair, those super soldiers had it easier when it came to fighting.

Once she got in the shower and let the hot water wash down all the dirt and blood off of her, she felt herself immediately relax. It was all she needed and she could live there forever. However, after another 10 minutes of thoroughly washing herself she turned the water off and wrapped a big fluffy towel around her body.

Next thing in the list: sleep.

She patted her body dry with the towel and changed into a pair of clean pajama, falling in her bed like the dead, immediately shutting her mind out and letting sleep take her away.

She was soundly sleeping when her door silently opened and somebody got in her room with small, quiet steps.

“Doll, you awake?” Nothing more than a whispered voice breaking the silence of the night, and when the only answer he got was her heavy breathing, he turned around without so much as a noise and left, just as he had come.

Y/n was still soundly sleeping.

5:00 AM

Bucky couldn’t sleep. No matter how tired he was. No matter how much he wanted to close his eyes and get a couple of much needed hours of sleep. He couldn’t close his eyes. He couldn’t shut his mind.

Today was his birthday. Not that he cared that much about it. He had had more birthdays than he cares to count anymore, but there was something about the date that made him restless.

He was currently in his room, half laying in his bed, a few old photos scattered carelessly on his blanket. He couldn’t tear his eyes off of them.

One of his mother with a little baby on her arms, his baby sister Rebecca. A couple more of his parents, one of his sister alone. Another of him, in his army uniform, a boyish smirk plastered on his face.

“Young fool.” He thought to himself.

All those pictures were some kind of present from Steve when he first got back from Wakanda. He said they would help him with his recovery, and of course everyone should have at least a couple of photos of their family.

After all, they were the only thing he had left from his family. And Bucky really held on to those photographs.

With most of his memories back, he remembers one of his early birthdays. He was turning 20, probably, and he and Steve had gone to this dance club in Manhattan.

He had literally begged Steve to go with him there just to dance with some pretty dames he couldn’t remember their names anymore. And that was not because of the brainwashing.

Now he hated his birthdays. Just another day to remind him he shouldn’t be alive now, in this year. Another reminder of all the things he had been through in his long, miserable life.

He let out a long sigh and turned to lay on his side, placing the photos carefully on his nightstand.

10:30 AM

The kitchen was buzzing with lively chatter, however not everyone was feeling their brightest today.

With most of the team having a day off, it was natural they wanted to spend it relaxing at home, so they were all enjoying their late breakfast and talking with each other about everything and more.

Y/n made her way to the coffee machine for the second time that morning and Natasha chuckled at her state; eyes puffy from tiredness, as if she hadn’t slept a wink, hair messy, she didn’t care enough to look at least presentable today.

“Aren’t you a treat for the eyes?” She teased and y/n just grunted in response, chugging down a large sip of her coffee.

Only after she had drank the second mug, she rubbed her face with her hands and tried to pat down the messy hair by combing it with her fingers.

She turned to look around the room, finding Natasha and Wanda sitting near her talking about God knows what, she wasn’t paying attention to any of it.

Steve was standing a few feet away, reading a newspaper like a grandpa. No matter how much anybody tried to convince him to read the news online, he insisted that actually touching the newspaper was quite a feeling. Weird old man.

Bruce and Tony were just next to Steve talking about their next science project, apparently, and Vision was creepily floating on Tony’s left side, listening intently to what they were saying.

Just as she averted her eyes to look for somebody else, Sam entered the kitchen looking so much better than last night, a bright smile adorning his silly handsome face.

“Good morning everyone.” He greeted cheerfully and all the people in the room greeted him back with the same enthusiasm.

Steve was the first to fold the newspaper he was reading and got up from his seat, patting Sam on the shoulder and asking him if he was doing okay.

When they both sat down again Y/n went to Sam with a plate of pancakes Wanda had made earlier and a cup of hot coffee, offering it to him.

His eyes shone bright and he stretched his arms out to give her a hug. “You’re an angel.” He said only for her to hear and she grinned in response.

“Do you know where Bucky is?” Y/n then asked when she sat down next to both men. “Is he still sleeping?”

Steve shifted in his seat uncomfortably and smiled sweetly her way, trying to not make his best friend look weird in y/n’s eyes.

“No, he actually got up about an hour ago and he left the compound. Said he had some work to do.”

Y/n only nodded her head in understanding.

She knew today was Bucky’s birthday and she knew how much he hated it, just like he hated making a big deal out of it, like celebrating or throwing a party. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t even wish him “Happy birthday”. However if he was out of the compound all day there was no way for her to do that either.

If there was one thing y/n knew though, was that she wasn’t going to let this go. No matter how much Bucky tried to disappear on his birthday as a way to avoid the wishes and presents and whatnot, y/n was a really stubborn person, so she wouldn’t let him off the hook easily this time.

Last year she had made him a cake and when all the team were having dinner together she brought the cake out singing “happy birthday” to Bucky. What she didn’t expect though, was for him to get upset with her and storm out of the room.

When she went after him to ask what was wrong he yelled at her saying that 'She didn’t have to do anything for him. They were not even friends so why would she care about his birthday. He didn’t even care about his own birthday!!’

But that was last year though. Last year Y/n was new to the team and Bucky was right, they weren’t even friends. They were barely teammates at that point.

This year however, things were different.

With each passing day after that 'dreadful one’, as y/n jokingly calls it now, they have actually created a special bond with each other, relying on each other a little more than they both would care to admit. It was a unusual connection, something neither of them could name. Something between more than friends but less than lovers. Something between denial and acceptance of feelings. Feelings they still hadn’t labelled.

9:15 PM

Bucky hadn’t returned to the compound the whole day. She had been waiting for him to come back sometime, but after waiting around for most of the day, she decided to stop sulking around in her room waiting for Friday to let her know when he was back.

With a newfound purpose she made her way to the kitchen and got out everything she needed from the cupboards to make little cupcakes. Every flavor she could think of; chocolate and peanut butter, vanilla, chocolate filling, sprinkles strawberry, red velvet.

After whole hours of mixing and baking she put them all in a serving tray, putting them on the counter for anyone who would pass by the kitchen to see and eat.

All but one. She picked a chocolate one and a small birthday candle and headed to Bucky’s room. She knew he wasn’t back yet, but she figured she could wait for him there.

After more than half an hour waiting and still no sign of Bucky, y/n was starting to feel sleepy.

She glanced at the small clock on his nightstand, bright red numbers shining 11:54 PM on the screen.

Figuring it was only 6 more minutes until his birthday would be over, she just lit the candle and placed the cupcake on the nightstand as well, the candle slowly burning. She decided to lay down on his bed to rest her eyes for a moment before he would come back.

She knew he was about to come back. With the day finally being over and everything.

It was strange how well she knew him. But then again, they had spent the best of last year’s together, most of the time attached to the hip and during this whole time they had learned almost everything about each other.

With thoughts of him in mind she fell asleep slowly, then all at once.

11:57 PM

Bucky sighed when he arrived at the compound. He had been all day out wandering around New York, mostly in Brooklyn, comparing new stores with the old ones, alleys, streets, bars, everything.

He opened the door to his room quietly, force of habit really, this whole having to always be quiet thing. But he also didn’t want to make too much noise that could wake any of the guys up, especially Steve whose room was next to his.

Just as he got inside his room, his eyes fell on the body that was curled on his bed, sleeping soundly. Then to the cupcake on the nightstand, with the candle almost entirely melted, but still lighting. His mind connected the dots easily and he let out a breath he didn’t know was holding.

He shuffled awkwardly around the room until he decided to wake y/n up, going to the bed, half hovering over her.

“Y/n…” He shook her arm slightly, but it was enough for her to wake up.

“Bucky.” She smiled at him sweetly, one of her smiles that was always directed to him and he knew that well.

Her eyes quickly averted to the cupcake beside her and she got herself up, now sitting on the bed and quickly took the small dessert in her hands. The clock was showing the time 11:59 PM.

“Quick, blow it!” The candle was half out, just a small flame hanging in there, like a last breath of life.

Upon seeing the hopeful glint in her eyes, he blew the candle out without a second thought and she smiled at him again.

“Happy Birthday Bucky!” Her voice was barely a whisper but he heard it clear.

Not wanting to break her heart with his grumpiness he smiled back and thanked her.

“Did you make a wish?”

He nodded his head softly.

He had made his wish way before that moment. Actually, since the moment he saw her enter the compound after Nick Fury when she was just a new recruit. Then he had made his wish when she made a birthday cake for him in his last birthday. And he had made his wish yesterday before they went on that mission, and after they came back.

He had been making wishes every day since the day he met her. And it was always the same.

With big eyes she was looking at his face, expectantly, waiting for him to tell her what he wished for.

Instead he showed her.

Putting the cupcake back on the nightstand he took her hands in his and closed the distance between them, kissing her softly. He lightly swept his tongue between her lips, pressing his warm, soft lips to hers.

She sighed against his mouth and he felt his heart flutter in his chest. Maybe he could learn to love his birthday again.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagines

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softy-b · 4 years ago

Text

The making of new friends.

On your way home you run into people.

Pirate People.

Oh no.

—

A fanfiction that highlights the crew a little. Eustass Kidd x Reader if you squint, maybe the beginning of something. Watch these hooligans tear themselves a way into your heart.

It’s getting dark out, the wind was howling and you were pretty sure it was raining gently. Not actually rain but this weird sheet of wetness that pulled through the air as if it was to remind you that it was cold outside. All in all it was a pretty spooky looking night and you did not appreciate that, even though you were currently sitting inside a building.

That would be because you could not sleep in here. These were your evening classes you undertook to become a nurse. You had lacked the proper degree to give it a shot so now you had to take these extra classes alongside the actual ones to keep up with the others. At least you weren’t the only one.

There were other people in the classroom, staring with a tired intensity at the chalkboard. All of you were exhausted but had the motivation and determination to get this shitty degree to continue onwards in your career. You knew because coming here at this ungodly hour was not something people who didn’t feel like it did.

Everyone here was very serious about graduating, thus, evening classes. But man, the poor teacher. The old, round man with a moustache longer than his arms was currently talking about the pro’s and con’s to vaccine’s, about how the pros outweigh the cons by a very long mile, but he was clearly tired too. It’s not like you could blame him. What time was it, almost 10 pm. Your class ended in a bit.

Even though your thirst for knowledge was endless when it came to this sort of thing, your body needed to rest. Sleep was a curse.. and yet a curse you loved to live. Sleeping was probably one of your most favorite things to do.. if only you could mix it with something productive and you’d never get up from bed unless you had to.

Talking about sleep wasn’t helping, or thinking of it even. Your eyes drooped a little and you had to force your entire body to stiffen and cramp up to wake up a little again to pay attention to the teacher and his ramblings. He’s wrapping the topic up and people all around the room were giving off a collective aura of relief.

You? You wanted to be happy and somewhere you were happy for finally getting to go home but there was the fucking problem. You’d have to go through the forest near the pier to make it home. The.. fucking.. dark and creepy forest. Euuughhh.. You wiggle about a little on your chair just thinking about that horror story about to become reality.

You had evening classes three times a week, monday, thursday and friday so this wasn’t a new occurrence you suddenly had to deal with, you had to deal with it three times a week after all but somehow it never got easier and made your stomach clench so hard you were sure you could make diamonds with the pressure.

You had a flashlight in your bag, pepper spray, a pocket knife and your stuff you needed for school. You liked to say you were well equipped in case a wild animal tried to turn you into a midnight snack. You refused to go out like that. Stupid bears could munch some tree bark!

You combed with your fingers through your h/colored hair absentmindedly, thinking how you needed to take a shower once you got home. You think about you home, it was a nice spot, even if a bit isolated and creepy at night. It was just a normal sized cabin that had belonged to your parents after all.

They have passed away by now, both due to unforeseen health issues but the memories didn’t hurt so much anymore. It’s been years since then. At first you had thought about giving the house away, feeling not very safe all alone, out of sight from the city.. but then you kept it because it was your parents.

They build the damn thing and everything, you couldn’t just give it away. So you tried to get used to it. Kind of did over the years. The dark still scared you severely but now you could stand your ground and check if there really was someone in the living room or if you’ve been hearing the house doing it’s creaking noises.

It’s not like it was extremely big. There were three levels, the upper one, the ground one and the basement. The upper level consisted of four rooms and a bathroom, the ground level had a bathroom, a living room and a kitchen and the basement was a singular storage room.

It was kind of a hassle keeping everything clean, seeing how you were usually busy studying so cleaning was just a bit of a thing you did not wanna waste your time with.. but you had to. Once every week. A full wipedown to make sure there was not a loading of dust ready to pop out spiders.

It’s not like it mattered, seeing how you lived alone, had no pets and usually didn’t get visitors. You had some pals, here and there but they were mostly school friends. You guys didn’t hang out outside of classes and were just hooliganing it whenever you were together. You look up and see lightning in the distance, making a face.

It’s gonna storm and you’d rather make it home before the rain turned from a drizzle into an actual issue because you did not take an umbrella with you, the weather had looked fine when you left for school after all so you did not think too hard on the matter. Now it was a fact you regretted greatly, as you did not wish to be soaked while the wind was howling.

Then again, the wind would probably just blow the umbrella away. So maybe a raincoat would be better.. which you did not bring either. Damn it.

“Alright!” You blink at the teacher, smiling a bit to yourself as you watched him clap into his meaty paws. “That would be all for today! Please stay safe going home and until monday!” Right. It was Friday. The only plus side you had right now was that you could sleep in tomorrow.

People are shuffling to get up, put their stuff into their bags, chatter among each other about what they’d be doing on the weekend but it was pretty much just polite talk. At this point everyone wanted to go home and either sleep or go and party. The teacher sat down at his desk, supervising the people leaving.

You don’t waste your time staring around much longer, grabbing your stuff and shoving it into your bag, pulling out your flashlight and pepper spray, letting the pepper spray slip into the back of your pants. You fistbump gently to hype yourself and march to the door. “Miss L/N, ready for war as usual I see.”

You halt, looking at your teacher and smiling shyly, a little embarrassed that he saw that. “Ah, yeah. Can never be too careful these days!” The old man nodded, petting his moustache and giving you a kind smile that made wrinkles all over his face. You like him. He reminds you of a grandpa you never had. “Right so! Please do take extra caution going home.”

You give a nod and wave to him. “I will! Thank you and you too!” On the way out you ignore the feeling of dread settling within the confines of your body. Hnnhgf.. God this was just horrible on so many levels. You’re about to fricking piss yourself just wondering what creepy crawlers would await you tonight.

If you got lucky, maybe you’d see a hedgehog.. Something told you that you were not going to be getting much luck. The bad weather would probably make them hide in their burrows and what not to not get totally soaked. Like you were going to be if you didn’t hurry up already!

Once outside, you take in the town square that presented itself in front of you. The street lamps were lighting up the place but that was only within the town itself, sadly, the path leading to your home was left completely dark and empty. You swallow thickly at the thought and begin to walk.

Most stores were closed up by now, only a bar here or there still open, the noise of people laughing and singing filling the air. This was a happy place, usually. The people were nice to each other and often willing to help someone in a tough spot. You’re reminded of when your parents died and you were left alone.

Everyone had put some work into helping you support yourself. You’ve been fifteen at the time and since this was a small town there was no such thing as an orphanage. People kept coming by, giving you money and food and other stuff you needed to live until you managed to graduate.

You got a paid scholarship for the nursing job, which you were thankful for. You were still getting support from a lot of people, they were happy to help out until you could afford your own living. It was kind of something your parents left behind, didn’t they? Everyone had loved them. You being their kid probably made a lot of people feel responsible.

Maybe a bit shady but you would not fight their kindness. It was a gift from your parents, at least that is how you saw it.

Your footsteps carry you throughout the empty, dark streets, closer and closer to the forest. Once the treetops come into view you feel your heart sink all the way into your butt and hide there. ..You want to wait in a hotel or something but that’d be an expense you couldn’t afford. Hhff You’re so fucking scared.

There’s thunder rolling above you, a fat drop of rain landing right on your nose. Ah, snails and nails. Damnit! You pick up your pace as the sound of the wind howling got louder, the rustling of the trees shaking the giant branches, making it look like demons were growing out of them.

You do not like the look of it.. not like it would change anything, you still had to go home at some point and rather now than later because the rain was picking up now that it really got going. Your walk to your house is maybe ten minutes if you hurry so you tried and take comfort in that.

You do not wish to jog though, worrying about attracting the attention of an animal or whatever else was creeping around in that fucking forest. You remember you saw a boar there once. During this time of year they had babies and got even more aggressive than usually. Hnnghff.. it was tough to get around them once they blocked the path.

One time you had to climb a tree to hide from them after they hunted you for what felt like five minutes through this shitty fucking forest. Eugh..

You reach the edge of the woods and step onto the path that had formed over time from people walking along here. It made you feel only worse thinking about the next ten minutes of cold, wet horror. You’re tense, listening as you quietly sneaked along the middle of the path, unwilling to get too close to the bushes or trees lest something might grab and drag you in.

You could hear the ocean from here, the waves splashing aggressively against the stones that were poking out from under the surface. God, the water probably looked like a black nightmare of horror right now. Eugh, the thought of drowning in that mess was another nightmare of yours.

You didn’t like the ocean that much, seeing how you were not exactly a strong swimmer. You learned how to do it once and then after that you’ve been so often in deep waters you could count the events off on one hand not even using all your fingers. You’d definitely drown.

“-can you stop fucking pushing?!” You flinch and automatically click the light off from your flashlight. The thing was loud and the ‘click’ echoed almost in your brain, clearly signalizing.. surprisingly you didn’t get noticed apparently though. But those were the voices of people. Men, to be specific.

“I’m not pushing shit, you prick! Stop stepping on my toes. Can someone just try and relight a fucking torch this is ridiculous!” Travelers? You duck down as your eyes slowly started getting used to the dark. “Trying. No use. They’re soaked.” Yeah.. with the rain, no doubt. God, they’re so close to your home too.

Should you chance it and try and sneak past or maybe run back..? You didn’t really know the answer to that kind of question, you’re too worried that these might be robbers or whatever. Maybe bandits. Those were common since you guys were connected to the main lands which were full of mountains and what not.

“Boss- Boss your arm is slamming right into my side.” “Then fucking move!” You heard a loud crunching noise and then yelling and cursing as something whizzed past your head, gracing your hair actually and slamming right into the ground behind you. You’re frozen.. carefully turning your head and stare at the scythe lodged into the ground.

“Kidd, what the fuck?! Throw your own, goddamn weapons!” Oh god, was he coming closer? “Where did it even go? I can’t see it anymore.” Oh god, he was coming closer! You scramble to the side and press into one of the bushes to hide in it, ignoring the fact that there might be bugs.

They had weapons, they were definitely bandits and you were officially super scared, grabbing your pepper spray tightly and pressing it into your chest. You could probably make an escape if you ducked deeper into the forest and away from the path. You’d have to circle back and go back to town to tell the police department about this though.

Heavy footsteps walked past your hiding spot and you squinted your eyes with no luck. There was no way you’d be able to actually see anyone in this darkness. The trees were blocking out the little light from the moon that did make it past the clouds. It was basically pitch black..

You crawl backwards and through the bush quietly, trying to ignore the fact that these men were really fucking close and could probably see you if they had nightvision. Please, just let luck be on your side right no-ough!

You get a foot right into your side, but not because someone kicked you. “Ah- FUCK!” You hear someone cursing above you right before a heavy body fell right over you. You can’t help but shriek in panic and bolt forward, trying to scramble away. “Who the hell was that?!” Oh shit.

“Wasn’t me- sounded like a broad.” “A woman, here? I’m sure.” “Are you deaf? Of fucking course that was a woman! Someone fucking grab her!” There’s a few choruses of ‘yeah boss’ or ‘got it’ or, your personal favorite, ‘okie dokie’. The rest goes to chaos.

You heard footsteps everywhere now and you’re pressing against a tree to try and stay out of reach. You had to climb- climb! You turn around and begin to hamper your way upwards, only to feel a hand on your ankle. “Gotcha.” The angry growl of whoever had you made you tense your body as you got jerked downwards.

Your fingers dig into the bark and you kick out with your free leg, hitting someone in the shoulder but it only resulted in them catching that foot too and pulling down. Your grip slips and you slap like a wet piece of meat onto the muddy ground. “Ah! Stop- Get the fuck off of me!”

It’s no use. You’re overpowered pretty quickly and you felt the man lean over you, his breath on your face. He was probably trying to see you but good luck in this darkness. But you had the upper hand now. You reached out, grabbed blindly around and actually got the man by a well defined chin.

Then, with knowing where his chin was, you aimed your pepper spray where you assumed the rest of his face was and hit it. “Shit-“ You’re let go as the dude jerked back and yelled something in rage, you roll away just in time to not lose your head. You heard the ground crack underneath his boot. “You fucking cunt! Get the hell back here!”

Oh hell no. You don’t answer and just run into a random direction as chaos exploded behind you. You felt like something was right on your heels and you barely manage around a tree you felt with your hands, since you were running with your arms in front to not hit your face, when you felt the whole tree shake with the impact. Oh fuuuck!

You flick your flashlight on because you needed to be able to see to be able to get away and you realize in horror you were running towards your home. Oh god- they’d see where you lived. Your thoughts are cut short, you slip and land in the mud. Gross. But then there are broad hands onto your arms, pulling you up. “No! Don’t kill me! I just wanna go home- Oh my god get off you’re wet!” The man sounding behind you had a deep baritone, suddenly he was holding your flashlight, shining it into your eyes. “Everything is wet. It’s raining.”

You’re dragged back by your left arm, fighting all the way until you were jerked forward and almost hit the chest of another man, staring up and not seeing anything until the blonde shined the light right at his buddy. Your blood runs cold.

It’s Eustass ‘Captain’ Kidd. The captain of the Kidd Pirates. Oh.. god.. His eyes were red and clearly strained, he’s drenched otherwise. Suddenly your life flashes past you as you stared at the man. You shot pepper spray into his eyes and now he was going to kill you.

“..You little bitch..” He growled lowly and grabbed you by your hair. “The hell was that about? You wanna fight?” Don’t say yes- you didn’t wanna fight this man. “N-No..” You swallow thickly again and just let him jerk you around a little bit until he was interrupted by one of his men.

“Boss. We’re freezing our nuts off out here. Can we find shelter first?” Yeah, you do not doubt that for even a second, it was very cold out here. But. Opportunity came knocking just at that sentence. “We can make a deal!” You feel eyes burning in your general direction. The dude who had caught you grunted. “A deal.”

It’s a question to elaborate. You talk quickly. “I live in a cabin not far from here! I’ll give you shelter and food and in return you won’t kill me or the townspeople?” It came out more like a question. “Hell no.” Oh god. The redhead was jerking your head around again as if he was going to break you neck- You felt the man behind you let you go and then Eustass Kidd got a flat palm to his face.

“We’re taking this, Kidd. I’m not sleeping in a puddle tonight.” The dude grumbled and handed you your flashlight. “Lead us there.” He sighed, forcing his partner to let you go, to which you stumbled pathetically before almost kissing the ground beneath you. “Killer, what the hell?! I said no!” You heard the men start to argue behind you but you’re too focused on your luck.

Oh thank fucking god they took that offer. “I’m not repeating myself.” Killer grunted, following you closely as you picked up your pace a little to get out of the rain faster. People were shuffling and bumping into each other behind you, talking about various topics you could hardly understand from the front.

Killer and Kidd were just arguing all out in the open now, almost at each other’s throat as they were shouldering each other with their massive bodies from time to time as if to make a point. “We’re not sleeping in the middle of the rain just because you need to let your ego out.” The blonde growled at his captain, shoving at him when Kidd gave him a pinch slap in the side.

“I’m the fucking captain, what I say should fucking go-“ “Cry me a river.” You’re surprised, honestly.

You thought for sure that they would be on the same page of murdering people, seeing how high their bounties were and everything.. but that wasn’t the case. They.. reminded you of an old, married couple. Bickering and yapping at each other like it was going out of style.

They were clearly comfortable with one another, they kept barking like dogs but underneath it was a layer of stubborn affection one would miss if you didn’t look for it. It.. surprised you was a bit of an understatement. Your home finally comes into view and you pray to every high entity that you would please, not die tonight.

“Just.. a moment please.” You mutter and unlock the front door, barely making it in and turning the light on and then suddenly you’re being overrun. You shriek as huge bodies forced their way into your home and you hit the ground, getting stepped on in the process. The weight squeezes all of your air straight out of you and the only saving grace you had was someone dragging you backwards by your ankle and then lifting you by your shoulder.

“I’m herding fucking cats..” It’s the Massacre Soldier. The man put you back onto your wobbly legs and waited until the rest had filed in until he closed your front door. You need to sit down a little. Taking in what the fuck was even going on an this point. Your gaze drifted around, spotting the awkward tension.

The dudes were soaked. Just as soaked as you were. Some were pulling their shirts off to dry off quicker, some just complained about it. Eustass Kidd looked like a poodle that went into a bath, his fur coat not nearly as impressive while it was sticking to his body as if it was a second skin he needed to shed. The man threw the thing over your couch, possibly ruining it in the process. What a fucking asshole.

“Found the food!” Oh great. They broke into your basement where you stashed all the preservable food and some meat. It had been a habit to stash this stuff in case people stopped helping you out. Now those pirates were cleaning out your basement..

Well, better your basement than your corpse, you suppose.

You were sitting on the staircase, just pressing against the railing to be out of the way was the men were making themselves comfortable in your home, so you didn’t notice it at first but then there was a huge man that reminded you of a zombie standing right in front of you. “Uh.” He sounds so awkard.

“Thanks for letting us in here.” Your mouth almost dropped open at the fact that you got thanked by a pirate. You swallow thickly. Technically.. you should be the one thanking them. They could have just killed you, taken the keys to your house and let themselves in. You suppose none of them came to that conclusion at the moment.

“No problem.. just.. please try to not break anything..” You get a thumbs up from the blue haired male before he sauntered off, probably to also eat. They were bringing everything to the living room and you’re already missing the blanket of security the food’s existence had given you. You’re going to have to start all over again, don’t you?

The idea of it doesn’t really irk you but some things can’t be changed with willpower alone.. like how they were currently tearing your curtains apart to use them as towels. You stared at the mess and just put your face into your hands.. Oh my god. This was just.. asking to escalate. Maybe you should slip out while they were eating.

You wonder if that was a smart move, seeing how armed they were and how fast the blonde dude was even in the rain. He’d definitely catch you before you had the chance to reach the town to warn everyone.. “Here.” You look up. It’s another dude you didn’t know. Orange Iro Haircut and black glasses. He’s holding a bottle of wine at you.

“We’re already taking all your shit, you’re gonna need this tonight.” You grab the bottle and pop the cork out after a bit of thinking, making a face at him. “Gee.. thanks..” You mumble and lower your voice. “How generous, you assclown.” His eyebrows went up all the way.

Then, before you could panic, he broke into laughter and slapped his knee. “Ah shit! First you spray the fucking captain and now you’re throwing insults! You have no bone in your body that wants to live, do you?” That was a very casual statement to make that sounded way too much like a threat.

“Lay the fuck off. She got lucky.” The dude turned and snickered at the oncoming figure, that you, to your dismay, recognized as Eustass Kidd who was currently rolling his shoulders and combing through his hair with his organic arm. The metal one loose at his side. His eyes looked better but he still seemed pissed.

“Give me that-“ He snatched the bottle out of your hand after shoving past his crewmate, proceeding to down the whole thing while establishing angry eye contact with you and just confusing the hell out of you. What.. Nani the fuck? Was this.. was he trying to establish dominance or something?

Suddenly you felt like a dog that was about to get a smackdown with a bunch of newspapers. “Boss, I just gave her that.” The mohawk cut murred and crossed his arms, giving his boss a blank stare before looking at you. “I’ll get you a new one.” How kind. But now he was leaving you alone with his shitty captain. Who still seemed angry.

He threw the bottle onto the floor, where it shattered and the pieces went flying everywhere. Oh god. Weirdly enough, he does not kill you immediately, just giving you an evil glare and leaning in, making you lean back. “..Scuse me. Please, personal space.” The space where his eyebrow would be twitched.

“The hell are you mouthing off for?” He’s looking for a fight, you faintly realize. The dude was probably agitated from getting pepper sprayed and was not looking for an excuse to go against what his blonde buddy had told him. Which would be to leave you be and not go ham on your home.

“..Sorry.” You grit out, now pressing fully against the stairs to stay the hell away but fuck, he just leaned in closer. By now the man was towering over you with his huge form, basically blanketing you completely as he continued to glare at you. He’s clearly trying to get you to shove him or something.

Fuck iiiit. You do not move and you hear absentmindedly the laughter of the other crew members. You can feel the dude’s breath on your face and it smelled like the wine that he just exed like a drunkard. Breath somewhere else! You felt like this were dangerous waters. If you didn’t watch out, he’d grab you and drown you… as in he’d beat the hell out of you.

“Say it again. Beg me to forgive you.” Oh fuck this guy. You can see a sadistic glimmer in his eyes as he grinned like a bastard at you. Something within you told you that no, you were not going to be begging this piece of shit for anything. Say something though, anything really. “..Your eyes remind me of gold coins..”

You were a fucking idiot.

The man recoiled from you and looked at you as if you were insane. Seeing what you just said, you might as well be. Both of you are staring at each other, ignoring the commotion that was going on around you from people drinking cheap juice and eating up your supply stash. Ah fuck.

The man stared onwards and then he actually let go of the railing from the stairs and stood back up to his full height, narrowing his eyes at you as if he was trying to analyze whether you were real or not. You felt unreal too, not gonna lie. “You think flattery is going to keep me from tearing you apart?”

Not what you were trying to do. His eyes were just so amber and cold, it reminded you of a cold, golden coin. No warmth there to be found except for now, but it was the heat that anger brought. “I was..” You cough awkwardly and just avert your gaze. “Sorry.” It’s not like you could explain your reasoning without making even more of an idiot out of yourself.

The man scoffed in disdain and, miraculously, he left you where you were sitting and to your own devices. His body easily parting the sea of men that was getting rowdy with each other. You’re kind of sweating just thinking about all the cleaning you’d be forced to do once they left.. on your own.

If you made it through the night. Who knew when one of them thought they could grope you or whatever and then? Then you could not guarantee for them to not get shoved. You wouldn’t actively dare to hit someone. Not right now where you were surrounded by pirates.

“What the fuck, girl.” Your solitude does not last you long, unfortunately. You’re faced with two men you do not, obviously, recognize. “You can’t tell me you only have this wine.” One of the scoffed at you and you just made a face. “..Sorry. I don’t really drink alcohol.” You were apologizing a lot today for no reason, weren’t you?

You’re being crowded, you faintly notice. First it was two, now it was four. “No booze for you? Are you.. like.. allergic?” There’s a collective groan going through them. “Idiot, she has wine, she’s not allergic to alcohol.”

“Seriously.”

“Getting smarter everytime we hit land, aren’t you?”

Now they were bickering among each other, throwing insults and shouldering people before settling again as you became the central point of their attention. The hell was with them? You felt like you were surrounded by a group of curious puppies.. Noo wrong example, try a bunch of pushy goblins.

“I just don’t like it.” You shrug, only getting deadpan stares. “So you’re like, all proper and shit?” The dude talking to you stuck his pinky out and some were jeering and laughing at the gesture. You resist the dying urge to roll your eyes. “Nahh.. Not really. I just, like, don’t enjoy hangovers.”

That seemed to be some common ground because the men were collectively groaning in agreement and nodding their heads like they were students and you were the teacher. “Oh yeah, those can suck my huge di-“

“No one would want to touch your baby carrot.” “Yeah, you’d have to pick a prostitute and pay her extra.” There they go, jeering and laughing again at the expense of one of their buddies.

“Shut your fucking mouths!” Now they’re back to bickering and shouldering at each other. You were so out of place right now. The railing creaked a little and you looked up to see a huge man.

And if you say huge, you mean fucking hugelicious. That dude was at least two heads taller than his captain, currently sporting a yellow cloak and black trident, his clothes, the little bit he was wearing, were also colored yellow and the dude just gave you a deadpan stare. “I see you found out what quality company we can be.”

“As high quality as my huge-“

“Shut up! You need to stop trying to sell that everytime we’re around a fucking woman!”

“It’s getting embarrassing.”

“Ridiculous-“

“Fuck you guys!”

The bickering was arting out a little. Now there were actual punches going around and you shriek and dodge a body hitting the stairs, scrambling up and out of reach as the guys that had been talking to you were getting into a semi friendly brawl. Semi friendly because no one was sporting any weapons. Until someone took a plate with potato puree and threw the damn thing from the living room.

It hits the man with the cloak, who’s eye twitched and he spun around. “You little shits!” Oh hell. This was escalating so fucking fast- Now there’s food going everywhere and not just food. There goes your wardrobe. Just flying away and kissing the world goodbye. You could hear that the brawling was slowly spreading from the living room and hallway to every other part of the house.

Not good. With a despairing inner mind you watch them tear your home apart as they went at each other like wild animals, throwing shit around as if it belonged to them, throwing each other around? You saw the Massacre Soldier walking through the mess, people avoiding him like a plague as he made his way to the stairs and came up until he could sit down next to you.

“THE HELL?! GET THE FUCK BACK HERE!” That was Eustass- a huge part of your wall actually bent suddenly before metal strings you didn’t even know where in there tore out and started wrapping people up like gifts. Now it’s raining into your kitchen. You grit your teeth..

“Sorry about that.” You didn’t expect anyone to give you an apology, so when the blonde man next to you did, it startled you into looking at him. “I’ll give you some money when we depart to help cover the expense as a sign of gratitude.” You do not know still why they are grateful. They could have easily taken this place by force..

You do not mention it.

“The house was old anyway..” You mutter to yourself, staring at the hole with a blank expression. Mom, Dad, please forgive this. You’re sure they’d be able to ignore this wreckage if only you’d be able to live another day. Oh god- there are gunshots coming from somewhere and the men were now jeering and yelling loudly.

“Y-You..” You halt and collect yourself a little, swallowing thickly. “You guys sure are lively.” You mutter and watch as Eustass tore through some people, having two by the necks and then throwing them at the dude with the blue hair, who dodged both bodies and kicked a chair at his captain, who got hit and yelled angrily.

Yet, among all the anger and aggression that everyone seemed to excel, no one was getting mauled to death. But there were loud gunshots and clear carnage going on around you and it was hard to think that no one in the town would notice them destroying your house.

They were loud. Extremely loud. The walk took ten minutes because you were a slow walker so there was no doubt that at least some of the people living at the edge of the forest would catch wind of this, despite the rain and wind. These weapons were loud. “Still, having your home destroyed by pirates..” The blonde hummed, putting his chin against the palm of his hand.

“..has gotta suck.” You grit your teeth. Because he was right. This fucking sucked and you wanted for them to go and take a fucking hike. Still.. People were laughing and screaming and oddly, it made you feel a bit better about this whole mess. As if this could be something you’d be able to look back on fondly in years to come.

Once they fucked off and all. So you and the massive man just sat next to each other, staring at the chaos below you in silence as you wondered if the police would come to check out the commotion. Hopefully. You did not want to get shot tonight.

As if on cue there was a row of gunshots sounding out. “Hank got shot!” You heard someone yell. “Doc! Doc get over here!” “Fuckers- I told you not to shoot these fucking-“ It’s drowned out by the noise of splat as a wet rag hit you right in the side of the face. You blink and cringe in disgust, slapping it away and robbing a bit further up the stairs.

Killer was following you with his face, tilting his head a little and letting his shoulders shake a little as if he was amused.

“Scared of water? That’s-“ And then slap, his whole mask is wrapped up in a towel and the dude froze in his spot. You glance behind him and see Eustass laughing his ass off, almost crumbling from the strain as he just shit himself over having hit his first mate with a wet rag.. That seemed really tame, seeing how the dude threw his men around like ragdolls otherwise.

“Fucker..” Killer hissed between, apparently, clenched teeth and pulled the rag off his head, getting up and then jumping over the railing like a lion on the hunt, tackling the redhead to the floor and getting into a grapple with the other man. God above, they’re aggressive. It was like violence was a turn on for these people.

And then suddenly there was the huge dude from earlier at the bottom of the stairs, heaving and covered in sauces and what not.. was that blood? He was clearly looking around for something he could be throwing right now and then his gaze landed on you. ..He’s grinning at you.. Oh.

Oh hell fucking no-

You shriek and try to dodge the large hand grabbing you by your ankle and yanking you down. “Scuse me.” He grabbed you under your back and butt, lifting you easily over his head. “Boss!” “No- Stop!” Both Killer and Eustass looked up and you could see their body posture tense comically at spotting what was about to be thrown at them.

Killer got onto his knees and Eustass’s eyes looked like they were about to pop from his skull, so wide he had them.

And then you’re flying and screaming your head off. It doesn’t take a second before you’re colliding with two warm, broad bodies and all three of you are send rolling around on the floor like toddlers. Eustass yelling and Killer cursing his head off- someone had his hand on your fucking chest and you slap out of instinct, hitting the material of the blonde’s mask.

“Ah, shit. Sorry-“ The dude actually seemed somewhat embarrassed at having grabbed you by accident but then you two are slammed down when Eustass used both of you as leverage to propel himself up. “You want my foot up your ass?!” He yelled at his companion, who flipped him off and just laughed out loud.

“Oh you little fucking-“ He cut up, jerking his head around and looking through the hole in your wall. The blonde groaned, sitting up and rubbing his neck but noticing the demeanor of his captain. “Kidd?” At first you didn’t hear it but now that you tried to listen closely, you did. There were voices.

It’s the fucking popo. You knew they’d notice the fucking ruckus if it went on long enough. “Twelve men coming over here. Guess we’re going to be killing townspeople after all-“ “No!”

Eustass had been in the progress of getting up but you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck to try and jerk him back down again. “You promised! You gave me your word!” You point accusingly at Killer who seemed completely unbothered at how upset you were, yet, he did speak.

“I did kind of agree to her terms.” He supplied, looking up at Kidd, who was now trying to get you off of him by shouldering you roughly with his metal arm which, honestly, felt like you were being rammed by a bicycle. “I didn’t agree to shit.” “You ate her food and broke her home down.”

“You say that as if we don’t do that shit on a regular basis.” You remember something. ‘Beg me.’ To be specific. “Please! Whatever you want, just don’t hurt them!” Eustass’s head jerked down and his eyes bore into you. Killer put his face in his hands. There’s a moment of silence.

“..Fucking fine.” You’re surprised how easy that was, all until he grabbed you around the waist and lifted you over his shoulder. “Men! We’re fucking off! Gather at the ship!” You heard someone complain. “The ship is a day’s trip away though!” So that’s why they were here, to scout? .. No it didn’t make sense. You’re too confused to think about it.

“What are you doing, Kidd?” Killer grumbled, poking you in the cheek and making you stare at him like a frightened lamb. “Taking a souvenir.” The redhead grunted and then squeezed your waist a little. The blonde crossed his arms and huffed. “..Alright then.”

“What?! No! I don’t wanna go! I wanna live!” You shriek and struggle against the man’s grip, hearing a faint, familiar voice of a police officer you knew. “MISS L/N?” Oh god. “We’re not killing you, calm your tits.” And then the redhead turned around and bolted straight through one of your walls, busting it open like he was a jackhammer.

His men were hollering and laughing still as they scattered into the night. You’re wet again, the rain falling against your body as you were carried off. It felt like your life, the way you had known it, was over. You don’t know what to feel about it right now, it was too much all at once.

You did not know this at the time, but today would be the start of a life you never knew had been an option, or a life you never knew you needed.

A new adventure.

#One Piece #Killer #Eustass Kid #Eustass Kidd #eustasscaptainkid #Wire #HEat

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ankewehner · 4 years ago

Text

Livetweet of accidentally getting into fairyland...

Best twitter thread ever?

https://twitter.com/NeolithicSheep/status/1330548523721515013 Shepherd: Oh hey Ursula, do you have the number for those people who take out invasive plants still?

Ursula: Probably somewhere, yeah. They said they didn’t usually work on such small properties, though, and I don’t know if I’ve got an infestation worth their time.

Shepherd: Ok but what if I say "kudzu" to you, can we throw enough money at them to make it worth their time.

Ursula: If you say “kudzu” to me, I will panic, scream, and come running to Dogskull with a flamethrower.

Shepherd: Ok well I suggest driving but maybe pack up the flamethrower. Ursula: OH MY GOD YOU FOUND KUDZU OH GOD WHERE IS IT ARE YOU SURE IT ISN’T JUST WILD GRAPE

Shepherd: YES I KNOW WHAT WILD GRAPE LOOKS LIKE THANK YOU anyway I was walking Beamer this morning after the deer ate breakfast and the white deer was walking down toward the back of the property, you know that low tucked away part? And I thought, well, we'll just trail after her at a polite distance and if I'm lucky I'll find some of her fur caught on a bush! Wouldn't that be great! So we kept going past the big ass fucking oak trees that make, like, that weird arch? And there's kudzu.

Ursula: What big oak trees?! There’s no big oak trees back there! It’s all pine!

Shepherd: Yeah you know, the two really big motherfuckers that look like English oak. They're like, way the fuck back there.

Ursula: There are no English oak on Dogskull. Are you sure you weren’t trespassing on the Freemason’s property?

Shepherd: No they're closer to the front I think? Who's next door to them? Also I thought Dog Skull was 7 acres? Because I should be off it and hitting the road by now.

Ursula: Next door to them is the people with the trailer on its side. Do you see any trailers lying on their sides?

Shepherd: A lot of oak trees, a little bit of kudzu, zero trailers in any orientation. Some birds and squirrels. Oh hey Beamer found a nice pond.

Ursula: Okay, this is important. Do the oak trees still have leaves on them?

Shepherd: Yeah but so does the one up front. Oh wait. These are, uh, still green. Like summer green.

Ursula: Right. Okay. This could be a problem. Give me a couple minutes, we have to take trash to the dump and then I’ll look some stuff up. Meanwhile, DON’T EAT ANYTHING.

Shepherd: You mean in case it's poisonous, right? Like THEORETICALLY if I didn't see this tweet until just now and HYPOTHETICALLY I found an apple tree and ate an apple, that would be fine?

Ursula: ...that would not be fine.

Shepherd: Beamer didn't want any, which was weird I thought.

Ursula: INDUCE VOMITING! INDUCE VOMITING!

Shepherd: He didn't eat anything! I'm not going to gag my dog for not eating an apple!

Ursula: Not the dog! Induce vomiting in yourself! Every chunk of that apple needs to come out before you digest it!

Shepherd: FINE. I have puked it up. It was a really good apple, too.

Ursula: Oh thank god. Whew. Okay. The alternative was that you were gonna need a cold iron enema and I wasn’t sure how to do that on short notice.

Shepherd: Oh hey fun fact, "cold iron" is just, like, iron. It's not a special kind or anything!

Ursula: Do you have any on you right now? Beamer’s collar or tags or anything?

Shepherd: Collar hardware is all aluminum these days, otherwise it rusts. Let me pat down my pockets. Syringe of dewormer? Is that helpful?

Shepherd: Anyway I don't want to alarm you but uh. I can't find the trail I followed? So you and Kevin will need to go over tonight and give the boys [i.e. oxen] a hay bale and the goats and sheep two.

Ursula: No! I am scared of cows! We have to get you out of there! Look, I have a bunch of Llewelyn books from my teenage pagan days. I’m sure Scott Cunningham or Silver Ravenwolf covered this somewhere.

Shepherd: Scott Cunningham seems like a really drastic measure just because you're afraid of some cows. But sooner or later I'm going to run out of cigarettes so sure, why not. Oh!! The boys' bow pins are in my pocket, I was going to sand them today and oil them! They're very definitely iron!

Ursula: That’s good! That’s very good! If anyone tries to talk to you, keep hold of those! Now let’s see...do you consider yourself a “solitary practitioner?”

Shepherd: Ursula I'm an ornamental hermit, you don't get much more solitary. Also so far the only person who tried to talk to me was a frog.

Ursula: ...what did the frog say?

Shepherd: "SMOKING KILLS." I tossed it back in the pond.

Ursula: *rubs forehead*

Shepherd: Fucking frogs are all alike, I'm telling you.

Ursula: I really wish these authors had spent less time on “why Wicca isn’t Satanism” and more time on “what to do when you’ve strayed into the fae realms.” I mean, I understand it was the political climate of the time...

Shepherd: I feel like nobody really covers that last one anymore. You have 4 hours until the cows want dinner.

Ursula: Silver Ravenwolf suggests making your magical working space more inviting with stencils? These books spend a surprising amount of time on interior decorating as a vital part of ritual magick. I never noticed that when I was fifteen.

Shepherd: Yeah me neither honestly. It's remarkably unhelpful when you're stuck in faerie and your collie is getting bored. Shepherd: So you want me to... Build a magical working space and stencil it?

Ursula: I can’t actually see how that would help matters. Maybe I should check the Foxfire books instead.

Shepherd: I... Don't remember them having anything relevant, but I might be wrong?

Ursula: They have everything. Ooh, this one is about how to scald the bristles off a hog!

Shepherd: A) I already know how to do that and B) I do not have a hog, sufficient firewood, or a hog scrubbing brush here. FOCUS, URSULA. FOCUS.

Ursula: Sorry, the ADHD meds haven’t kicked in yet today...uh...let’s see...avoid whippoorwills, if you see any?

Shepherd: I do that already, otherwise they steal your toenails.

Ursula: If you harvest apples, leave one on the tree or it attracts the Devil.

Shepherd: You told me not to eat the apples! Am I allowed to eat the apples now??

Ursula: No! These are hypothetical apples! NO EATING! I tried to look up deer in the Foxfire books and there’s a story about somebody’s grandpa wrestling a buck in a mill dam and drowning it, but I don’t see the relevance here. I mean, Grandpa does sound like a badass, though.

Shepherd: I feel like I shouldn't wrestle deer here. What if I try telling Beamer to find his sheep?

Ursula: Well, research has hit a small snag. I tried googling for the foxfire books and kudzu, in case there was something about fae kudzu portals, right? But it turns out your Twitter is the third hit. Shep, we may BE the experts.

Shepherd: Uh oh. OK. In that case, you and Kevin go over to Dog Skull. Hitch up Cole and Cannon and take them back to the oak trees. Put a logging chain around one and yell real loud "LET SHEPHERD OUT OR WE START PULLING"

Ursula: Oh hell no! I read tree law Reddit! I know how this ends! Do you want us to get sued by Freemasons?!

Shepherd: I DON'T THINK THE FREEMASONS ARE THE PROBLEM HERE, URSULA

Ursula: I DON’T TRUST THEM WITH THEIR LITTLE LEVELS AND SHEEPSKINS AND WEIRDLY OCULAR PYRAMIDS Also if you see a pyramid with an eye on it, don’t eat it’s either.

Ursula: Okay. Never mind the Freemasons. I wrote a book about this once, I think. White animals, scary fae, random magic deer. It was set in Finland, so you may need to fashion some umlauts, though.

Shepherd: I've got my chore knife, I can carve so many umlauts. Do I just put them in trees until I get back?

Ursula: First of all, are you wearing pants?

Shepherd: YES I'M WEARING PANTS YOU WEIRDO

Ursula: t’s a legitimate question! I mean, I’m not wearing pants.

Now Shep, this is very important. You have to take off your pants.

Also your shoes, your hoodie, and probably Beamer’s collar.

Shepherd: Ursula. Why are we getting naked.

Ursula: To break the misdirection spell! Put your clothes on backwards!

And possibly inside out? Shit, there’s a bunch of different sources. I don’t know if they have to be inside out, but definitely backwards.

Uh...let’s see...hmm, backwards definitely. Inside out might be for leshy. Leshies? Leshys? What’s the plural form, do you think?

If you happen to see any giggling green hairy dudes, ask them what the plural form of their name is. That’s gonna bug me.

Shepherd: Beamer's collar doesn't have a backwards! I'll turn it inside out. And my clothes backwards and inside out, got it.

Shepherd: There's just, like, frogs. And squirrels. I can hear music though! There might be a dance party, I could go ask about green hairy dudes?

Ursula: STAY AWAY FROM THE MUSIC unless it’s the Freemasons I guess

Shepherd: No it's more folk music. The Freemasons play, like, Michael Jackson.

ANYWAY clothes are backwards and inside out. Beamer's collar is backwards and just to be thorough I tied the rope end of his leash to his collar instead of using the clip, so his leash is backwards too. He's pulling me away from the pond!

Ursula: Tell him to go find his sheep!

Shepherd: I have so instructed him! Hopefully there's not, like, the faerie equivalent of really good sheep here. Hey do you want me to grab you an apple

Ursula: No, they don’t come true from seed, but if you can cut me a decent slightly whippy twig with a few leaves, I might be able to root that sucker.

Shepherd: ...you want me to pause a collie on a mission while I test the whippiness of twigs??

I HEAR MOOING. I SEE PINE TREES.

Ursula: GO TOWARD THE MOOING

Shepherd: THERE'S THE OLD RUSTED OUT METAL THING! I'm back! On uh the opposite side of the property from the one I left from.

Also there's a goddamned chorus frog calling.

Ursula: Yeah, they do that.

Ursula: THANK GOD THE KUDZU IS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE PORTAL

...oh, and you’re back, that’s good too. Very pleased.

Shepherd: Anyway you don't have to feed the boys. Unless you want to?

Ursula: There is no situation where I will WANT to feed your giant-ass death bovines.

Also, what have we learned about following the white doe into the woods?

Shepherd: She knows where the really good apples are?

Also my boys are tiny!!

Ursula: ...I’m gonna go take a nap.

#Ursula Vernon #NeolithicSheep #Faerie

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kikiyakno · 4 years ago

Text

✧ Little Star

Date → Some day during the week prior to the Masquerade event. Feb 2021 Setting → Kian’s Grandparent’s Home. Santa Monica, California Triggers → None, but does include descriptors of fish cutting so if that’s not your cup of tea... Mentioned → Yi Jae-Sang , Seong Sunwoo , Brandon Kelly, Song Minjoon , Maverick Maxwell, Yong Chul Synopsis → ★ Stars are born when large gas clouds collapse under gravity.

The invitation was weird, it was random, it definitely was fishier than whatever fish it was Kian’s grandmother was scaling on the cutting board, but Kian held the weirdrandomandveryfishy invitation close to his chest. This was it. This was exactly the shimmering gold ticket his family and their restaurant needed that would definitely turn everything around.

Except…Gyeonggi Grill was having no part of it.

Just about every eatery in Pico was on board, even the ones Kian didn’t particularly think should be serving food (looking at you Pete’s Palace) and the ones he personally considered to be competition. There was no haste in the flood of Facebook posts on his feed of businesses confirming and promoting their attendance in response to the mysterious invite. It was hard not to feel the clamoring excitement over a party at an art museum. The more he refreshed pages, the more he heard about people talking of it between deliveries, the more Kian felt that this was possibly the shining light for Gijis to be seen again. They would sign up, get paid for it, and best of all to serve new people ~rich people~ to ultimately bring business back in.

This big chance and his grandparents were radio silent. Kian couldn’t understand.

“Momo,” Kian whined loudly to his grandmother with a soft bounce on his heel. Even with his call the older woman didn’t look up from her work and feed into his melodramatic call. He huffed, the lack of response making his brows deepen further in frustration. “Momo, everyone who’s anyone will be there. They’re paying vendors to be there. This went out to a ton of people, probably everyone we know! Seriously! Everyone’s talking about it. This isn’t just something someone planned on the block, yakno. It’s a huge deal.”

The pressed enunciations of his words make Kian stop to take a breath. In consideration, he defaulted to speaking in Korean when he was at home and not surrounded by any of his friends. His grandparents had never requested that he do so, but on his own Kian decided that it was a respectful gesture. Just because English was his preferred language, forcing them to speak it with him didn’t seem fair. It takes him seconds to catch his breath before Kian starts up again.

“This party is exactly what we need, Momo. We can serve…..we can serve the soy garlic chicken! And you know people absolutely love our fried chicken. They talk about how good it is all the time! You know normal chicken places in America don’t double fry. And when they try, it sucks. That’s what makes ours so good! We can stand out with that! Guaranteed!”

His grandma still didn’t respond, head down and much busier in her re-work of separating scales from the fish. However, there was a soft smile that had made a way to her face now. The passion and sincerity in his voice tickled her ears, especially when a little twist of the accent Kian had arrived at her doorstep with slipped free. Her grandson spoke with fire but not the kind that sought to burn others. He also spoke awfully fast. Which wasn’t too out of the norm for her grandson. Years ago she noticed Jae, Sunwoo, and Kian all shared that oddity.

The lull in the room pressed in on Kian and he broke through it with a giant huff. He waited still, watching her work the knife with expertise. He bit his lip to stop the clench of his jaw and the tightness from impatience building in his throat.

“Mo—“ “Do you want to cut the fish? It’s your favorite before I clean it.”

Cut short mid breath, Kian blinked wide at the knife being placed aside for him. She still didn’t look at him, but stepped aside for him to join her. The words sitting on his tongue blew away on a sigh, obediently setting the invite away and beelining to the sink to wash his hands. He steps beside her to take the knife as he starts cutting through the skin. The silence lingers on, aside from the edge of the knife occasionally drags against the cutting board. Kian works as asked, but fast. His cuts are clean and precise despite having his conversation stalled.

“You aren’t listening to me.” He says in an undertone, looking down at his work as he goes. “I am, Ki-Hyun. I am listening.” Her voice is fond and silvery. Kian knew he was doing his cutting well. “Then why aren’t we joining everyone? Why aren’t we preparing for the event, Momo. We can serve food there.” “...” “They will give us money. They pay, it won’t be free yakno.” “...” “A lot of people will be there. A lot of people who will love our food like they used to.” “...” “Maybe it’ll be enough money to help us catch up, Momo.” “Kiki, please slow down and watch your cut.” “Please stop ignoring what I am saying.” Kian’s voice rises a few notches from his soft mutter. He pauses his cutting, noting how his clean work had suffered as he had tried to discuss. He evaluates briefly if his volume had gone too high to be seen as disrespectful, or if he could go on. Soon after he disregards his worry. He was tired of making these pleas and not getting answers. “Why are we not participating? Why aren’t we going?”

The sharpness in his tone takes her by surprise, but she is no stranger to determination. She can’t fight the look on her grandson’s face anymore, sighing herself before she gingerly responds.“...We can’t afford to close an entire day, Ki-Hyun. That’s a day’s business lost.”

“They’ll pay twice that! Maybe triple than what we make in a day!”

“We can’t guarantee that, Ki.”

“I can! It’s all over Facebook! Twitter! Other businesses saying they’ll be there and got paid! Remember when I made those accounts for us? People have tagged us—ah, mentioned us! They want to know if we’ll be there.” His voice brightens, contrasting her modulated one. His falters down instantly, however, seeing how her eyes widen then dampen in gentle confusion. Social media was still an entirely new world language for her. “Customers that are going to the party are asking about our food being there. They want us to be there too, Momo.” He defines for her with warmth. Kian can see her understand with his explanation, but she looks away from him before he can see a different turmoil in her eyes.

“We can’t gamble on something everyone else sees as lucrative. And...it would have to be more than a day to prepare for such a large number of people…that means we would have to close for longer to accommodate. Everyone on our staff would have to work longer.”

“Right, and then I’ll get Jae and DaeDae and Mason, and some of my new friends to help us all out and make things easier. And-and Minjoon loves being in the kitchen. If not, him and Chul have networks online too! I know they’d be super happy to help us find the hands we need. Maverick likes food trucks and stuff, he could talk to people! Oh, and Brandon might could help us with clothes and let us borrow something nice to go in!”

“Ki-Hyun.”

“He would find you a really nice dress. Remember I told you that’s what he does, yakno? He’s really good at it. Remember he called me from out of town? He was in a Fashion Show out of state! People love his stuff!”

“Ki-Hyun.”

“And you know Jae would probably take off all his jobs to help. DaeDae would help too. Buuttt he’s the only one we might have to pay with food, so—” “Ki-Hyun.” Kian stops. Moreso to take a breath than to listen.

“Ki-Hyun, we don’t even have enough in our inventory right now to do so.”

“Yes we do, we—” “Kiki.”

Kian blinked wide, and she simply shook her head against it. He hadn’t even finished! Each idea of his was shot down in seconds.

Excuses, excuses, excuses. These weren’t answers they were excuses. He didn’t notice how his hands had started trembling or how an ill taste of bitterness wrapped around his tongue.

“Maybe if you stopped preparing that sweet chili wing combo every Monday and Wednesday night, we would have enough.”

“Kian!”

“Momo, if Sunwoo was going to come back he would’ve by now. I told you that. But you still do that every night for two days a week. It’s been a month. That’s four weeks. Combos come with six pieces, but you give him two extra. So that’s about thirty-two pieces of meat we’ve had to throw out in the last month because of one person that could’ve fed five or more people.”

Kian knew he had crossed a line and he could see it in her face. He braced for anything, but she only fired right back at him.“And I will keep making what I want for him because those are his nights he works late. It’s too late and dangerous for him to stop anywhere else!”

“You don’t get it. He doesn’t CARE!” Exploding, Kian lets knife go to drop onto the table as his world suddenly blurs. “He doesn’t care! He-He doesn’t care and he won’t come back! They aren’t coming back. Cause they don’t care. They don’t care. And YOU don’t care!” Kian steps back, immediately remorseful but a throaty sob obstructs his apology. The busy pattern on his grandma’s shirt melds into one in the watery world. “You don’t care! You won’t let me help. You don’t think I know we’re behind! I work because I know we’re in trouble. But you and Grandpa keep...trying to HIDE it and not make me worry. But that just makes it worse! I worry anyways! I’m 27 now and you’re getting older, but I see you work every single day. Then you come home, tired, but then for ME you pretend we’re doing okay when we’re not. We’re NOT!! No matter what we do it’s not enough. I keep working and working and working and working but it’s just not enough! It’s not enough for you to stop pretending like I can’t help! It’s not enough for my friends to feeling like they don’t have to baby me and take care of me and pay for me to eat all the time! It’s not enough for me to ever see you stop working, or rest well at night, or for us to think about taking road trips like we used to or flying away on vacation!” Kian stops to wipe his face with his sleeves in a rush, face wet as though he had been standing in rain. He pushes his face into them to have his cry, only to feel his chest heave in harder when in the brief darkness he only imagines the glittering, serene lights of Paris. He shuts his eyes tighter and tears his face away in a hurry, feeling the accumulation of months of his world caving in on itself finally collapsing on top of him.

“I-I’m tired, halmeoni. I’m tired of us pretending. This is our one chance and you say no! Why are you giving it up so easily? Why are you giving up?! Wh-wh-why am I the only one who cares? N-N-No one cares! No one cares but me!”

Kian feels like he’s going to give way again before strong arms pull him close from behind. He breaks regardless, knowing now that at some point his Grandfather had come into the room. At this point Kian’s grief commanded his outburst.

“I’m sorry i’m not Kyung-soo. I’m sorry i’m not good like Kyung-soo so you could finally rest and have plenty of money and friends and nice clothes like he does. If I wasn’t here your family would love you and send you the money you need and you wouldn’t be dealing with this. They won’t even help you because of me. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry we can’t be happy and enjoy things like normal people. I’m so—!”

Kian felt warm hands take his cheeks and his body be squeezed harder. Momo had been hushing him and only at her touch had he quieted. He didn’t know how long she had been trying to, but his Grandfather’s face was buried heavy into his shoulder. Momo smiled, relieved to see that she had gotten through to him, but Kian could finally see her face was just as wet—and tired—as his. As familiar as she was to determination, her heart ached to see overwhelming frustration cripple the brightest heart she knew. She could be angry, she could be upset, but while Kian said one thing, she heard another. Hopes, wishes, blame, and shame but most of all that passion and sincerity. Yes, it hurt to be the one hit by his fire this time, but this detonation of Kian’s was different than all the others she seen before it. She swiped over his cheeks with her thumbs, still working on a smile despite her own tears.

"Don’t let go of any of those dreams of yours, little one. We will figure this out just like we’ve figured out everything else. Keep hoping. It’ll be alright. I promise.”

#— self para.#[ :) ]

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ravenwolfie97 · 4 years ago

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2020 Art Summary

Yep, it’s 2021 already. 2020 is finally over. It felt like it lasted forever, and it felt like the end would never come, but here we are. Crazy how the time flew by.

I felt like I didn’t get much art done this year because of Current World Event, but I made a lot more than I thought I did. Even some of my new favorite pieces came out of this year, so I think that’s worth celebrating and looking back upon!

I was insanely productive during the first month of 2020, and looking back I was surprised at all the stuff I did, but then I remembered that that winter season was actually one of the best times of my life! I started being more socially involved, and I think my newfound drive at the time translated into all the art I pumped out this month. This is just a small fraction of what I made in January, but I only have so much space. Quite a few complex pieces in both style exploration and polishing my own style.

Apparently February was a rather intimate month. Things began to slow down in terms of my own art here, with me spending more time in social settings and school work ramping up, I didn’t have as much time to coop up in my room to draw. I did wanna do something for a friend’s Valentine’s Day OC art challenge, so I drew my lovey-dovey couple from Dance of 1000 Words havin’ a dance. Nothing actually came of that challenge, but it was fun to do regardless.

One of the things I was most proud of in the winter season was making more friends, and one of the closest friends I made was completely coincidental. I met a person named Kiri on the bus one night I decided to volunteer somewhere by myself, and we ended up chatting and getting along. They quickly told me their tumblr username, and I shot them a message immediately after they left. A couple days later, we met up for brunch, and we started becoming really close friends and creative partners!

Not much else happened in March cuz that’s when Current World Event started becoming an issue, but Kiri and I still kept in close touch and we randomly started developing a concept for a Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Galar Edition. These are a handful of characters we thought up, with Skipper the Scorbunny and Dross the Dreepy as the main characters, Morgrem as the main antagonist, and some shopkeepers such as those of the Greedent Bank and the Indeedee General Store. This was also my first time drawing all of these Galar Pokemon (except Scorbunny, but I also made Skipper a bit more unique than a regular Scorbunny).

Lots of events happened this month. First of all, Steven Universe Future ended, one of my favorite and most influential shows was no longer continuing. I had to do something as tribute, both as a send-off to one of the greatest cartoons in the world and as a cathartic release for my feelings towards it.

A while later, I got the opportunity to start playing an MMO in beta called Fer.al, by the same people who made Animal Jam, which coincidentally I had also beta tested for back in the day. I ended up getting really attached to my first character, a Senri I named Sasha, and though I’ve made more characters than them since, they’re still my absolute favorite. Though I haven’t touched the game in a few months, I was really engrossed for a long time and enjoyed playing through the beta and early access phases.

At the end of the month, some friends of mine invited to a roleplay group with some mutuals, and we all played characters in a crime syndicate. Just a bunch of ragtag thieves and criminals who ended up together in order to protect an artifact called the Crown of Thieves, which was essentially a flag to be taken by other groups to prove that they are the best thieves in the land. My character was based heavily on my sona (if it wasn’t obvious) and was also influenced by Cloud Strife, since the FFVII Remake had just come out and I was super into watching the cutscenes at the time. My character’s (code)name is Valkyrie, and they are a mercenary, going between multiple different employers to carry out whatever duties they need to do. They have a more complicated backstory, but presently they were recently hired by recommendation of their friend Shark (played by @shmoots-universe who is also My friend now ily maya) who works with a group called the Court Cards who are currently in possession of the Crown of Thieves. Valk never really had a place to call home, but staying with this group of people had to be the closest they could get to that feeling. They still sleep with a knife under their pillow because of trust issue but that’s okay.

Okay, so technically these examples started in April, but I continued making content with them in May, and the month was just pretty void of art in general, so here I am addressing them.

There were two main things I worked on this month: a Steven Universe AU of my own and the whole #sixfanarts thing that kicked off around then. Let’s start with the fanart bits. I did two and a half of them (six in April and nine in May), and it was so much fun to be able to draw stuff I don’t normally do! My personal favorites are shown here: Blake Belladonna from RWBY, Roll from Megaman, Yuki Konno from Sword Art Online, and Link from The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess. The other thing I’d been planning for a while was a Steven Universe AU, probably to cope with the show being over but also because I was inspired by a lot of those SU AU artists I started following at the time. I won’t share the details here because it’s gonna have its own blog at some point, but the example I’ve shown here is of a comic I made loosely in order to introduce a divergence in the plot of the story as well as introduce a character unique to my AU. It was a lot of fun figuring out how to draw the characters and get a feel for the style.

As the year progressed, my amount of art I made per month began to dwindle, this time mostly because school was kicking my ass especially hard with finals. However, I took what time I had to get some backburner pieces finished, like the Tigerlily picture which I sketched out a couple months back, and the Gunvolt picture which I started working on SIX YEARS AGO. I don’t quite know why I got the urge to work on it again after so long, but it was nice to finally realize. The other drawing for DOTS was done in the dead of night but I was really happy with how it came out.

Despite only having two summer classes left of school, this month was really rough because they demanded a lot of my time and attention. I did not have the gumption to do anything digital, so I stuck to my sketchbook to get out what I felt like getting out.

My friends and I did a stream of the game Helltaker, and I really enjoyed the concept, so in following my friends I made my own Helltaker demon OC named Raksha the Ravenous Demon (it’s a pun but also got mythical insp). I also got super into Hazbin Hotel at this point, mostly because the Addict music video dropped and I couldn’t get enough of it, so I doodled Angel Dust cuz I felt like it. The other drawing I did was actually a free commission I gave a friend of mine as a prize for a trivia game show I ran back in June. He along with a couple other friends got some free drawings from me for getting the top three scores, and this one in particular was fun because of how interesting it was. He wanted me to draw a video game reviewer called the Irate Gamer from a specific moment, and I decided to go ham and just make it as dramatic as possible.

University classes finally wrapped up and right after that I was in the process of moving out of my apartment and getting adjusted to living with my parents again. I did a couple of agg.io drawing sessions with my friends from the Court Cards group as well as a new Dungeons and Dragons homebrew group I had joined. I drew some more of Valkyrie and came up with a design for my DND character Qakuqtuq (or Kai for short). He is monkey grandpa and I love him.

My main focus was on finishing a polished piece for my friend Cake, whose birthday was in the upcoming month. I wanted it to be as amazing as possible, so I put a lot of time into getting more detailed and making them look good. In addition to that, I did a few TOME doodles just for fun. The creature on the bottom was for this month’s art challenge on my Discord server where we made original TOMERPG monsters, and I created Hundylow, a Crystal-element monster based on the Grindylow from English folklore.

This month was a lot more productive than the past few had been. I tried to do a 31-day art challenge called Creatober but failed to get past the third prompt because I was still swamped with other work. I’m still happy with what little I did, including the piece with my characters Kyle and Guarudan from DSWD.

I don’t remember how, but I also suddenly rediscovered an old Flipnote Hatena series called Tales of LostClan, a Warriors fan series that I would say was the most obscure thing I’ve ever been super invested in. It was what got me into the actual Warriors books, and I liked it so much I redrew the animations into a comic... twice. Didn’t get nearly as far the second time but clearly my love for this little fanfiction had not waned after nearly a decade. I felt like drawing a book cover/movie poster for the series, just to get it out there and see how much I’ve improved over all that time.

Also I felt like making a vampiresona just before Halloween because I never dress up for Halloween in art (or real life anymore, for that matter), and I wanted to do something like that for once. It was short-lived but I really liked the design!

The focus of this month was definitely on Pokemon stuff. As per usual I contributed to the current Gotta Draw ‘Em All collab, and I was tasked to draw Regieleki. It was really fun to figure out how to make it stand out and look like it was made of electricity.

I also committed a lot of my spare time to my Fakemon Gym Leaders, as I had been working on bringing them to life in the past year or so now. As of this post, I’ve finished rendering their full body poses and gym badges, but I’m still working on completing all eight VS portraits, the first half of which are shown here.

I... didn’t draw anything this month, actually. What I’m showing here was worked on in the last few days but has actually been in progress for a couple of months, and I just finished it earlier today, in 2021. But I needed to show something off, and it’s also about time I mentioned it.

Back in October, I kept seeing people rave about this game called Genshin Impact, and I was interested but not so much as to start playing it... until my friends started playing and I was like “fuck it, let’s download it”. Since that day, I have been super immersed and in love with this game, to the point I came up with my own canon based on my gameplay experiences. This also included the creation of an original player character: Astra, the non-binary Traveller. And now, I’ve finally drawn them and brought them to life.

It has been one hell of a year. I had some of the highest highs and lowest lows in 2020, lots of changes, and I have now officially moved onto the next chapter of my life now that my time at university is finally over. I’m very excited for what 2021 has to offer, and I’m going to go forward with great ambition.

#my art stuff #art summary #this is always a joy to do every year and i'm glad to keep up the tradition for the sixth year in a row #this year was super good for this as well just to look back on what i was actually able to accomplish #long post #tome #hazbin hotel

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neutron-stars-collision · 3 years ago

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Almost a year on - a little recollection

It's quite surreal how it's already been a year since she's gone. This time last year I've been dealing with constant anxiety, the uncertainty of how long we've got left. I remember waking up every morning with a knot in my stomach, afraid to take out the earplugs, afraid to go downstairs and hear that yet again she refused to eat her breakfast. That it was my job to try to feed her, patiently, yet with tears in my eyes. Every day was like a roulette, never knowing whether it's going to be one of those alrightish ones with some time outside. Or whether it will be spent crying in the garden while trying to get her to come back to the house. It was waking up at night and going downstairs to crouch in the dark living room, checking if she's still breathing.

And then there were moments like breaking down while sat on the edge of the bathtub, choking on tears because it was all too much. Only to compose myself ten minutes later and go give her dinner, because it's 7pm and some things had to stay normal. For as long as they could.

Until they could not anymore. I still sometimes sit in that spot we spent the morning of 8th July 2020. I still get a wave of nostalgia when I boil the frankfurters, remembering how that morning she stood up for the last time to eat one. I remember every passing hour until 1pm and the decision to go the vet. Getting my beige trousers stained while trying to carry her. And then waiting, chatting with dad about F1 to pass the time and distract myself from the reality. And then the news. And the realisation of what it means. The internal battle to be strong enough to stay with her till the end. The wagging tail when she saw us. Cold tiles on the floor of the room where we’d have privacy. The twenty minutes of trying to say goodbye but not being able to express even half of what I wanted. I’ve told her everything days prior, sat in the garden and crying into her fur about how much she means to me. About how it's going to hurt like hell but I'll let her go when time comes.

I did manage that. Sat by her on the floor, clutching the paw without the PVC, seeing her fall asleep. Eyes closing, nose getting warmer. I'd like to say that there was something awful about it... but it wasn't. It was like a knife being twisted in my heart, but not worse than seeing my grandpa die four years prior. Because at least here I knew the exact moment. I was ready for it.

And yet it wasn't until the second when I had to take off her collar that it hit me. The fact that I'm taking home with me only that. A red tartan collar that I got her for Christmas in 2018. That she's gone. No more waking up and hugging her tight. No more gazing into the smartest amber eyes and feeling loved. No more hushed monologues when I'd tell her everything about how much I love her and somehow know that parts of it were understood.

Some nights, as I fall asleep cuddling her stuffed unicorn, I can almost smell her fur. The sunlit black hair on her head. The fluffy ears and wavy tail. The cold wet nose brushing my cheek. The way her eyelashes felt whenever I'd leave pecks on her closed eyelids. The simple act of being to give all that love to someone without any conditions. Just because she was the best dog, my sister. My love.

Tomorrow I'll get her flowers to put by the urn. Just because it's something to do and it feels right. Anything but tulips as she'd eat those. And I'll keep on missing her because no matter the months past it's still the same. A gaping hole. A shattered heart.

#personal bs #I miss my dog #and tomorrow I probably won't be able to say all of this #so here it is #feel free to ignore

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 5 years ago

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What if the Animorphs could use magic-like, in addition to the morphing?

All her life, Cassie’s dad has treated raccoons and ferrets, the occasional goose or hawk. And for as long as she can remember, he’s treated other things too. There was the pine marten with tiny horns that the long-fingered man with the scars on his face brought from under his coat. There’s the seahorse that buzzes up to their door on the regular, gossamer fins beating hummingbird-fast at the air as it hovers five feet off the ground. There are winged foxes and antlered rabbits and animals for which Cassie has no comparison.

Walter never comments on them directly. Instead he skids the Venetian blinds closed and pulls out his other kit — the one with bone needles and spools of spider silk and not a trace of metal throughout — and gets to work. Cassie can’t remember how she learned never to comment directly on these night customers. But she knows. She does not mention them aloud. Most of all, she does not thank them or ask for favors.

They never pay in coin, these visitors that step over the back threshold and never come when there is road salt on the ground. It doesn’t matter. Every stock share Walter and Michelle buy proves to be lucky; every item they store in the downstairs refrigerator never spoils. Michelle can heal animals at the Gardens that no one else can save. Cassie’s parents are careful never to ask for these gifts, or indeed express any opinion on them at all. Their night visitors bargain exactingly, mercilessly, without quarter. The only recourse is not to bargain with them at all.

Tobias doesn’t believe he’s a changeling. Not really. He’s pretty sure that’s just something his aunt says to excuse how little she cares about him. That doesn’t stop him from leaving a capful of her Rodda’s clotted cream on his windowsill every night, especially because he wakes every morning to find the cream gone. Just in case, he tells himself. Just in case his real family is out there somewhere, keeping an eye on him.

Jake has no thoughts on magic or fae. If asked he’d shrug and casually disbelieve. But he listened all the same when his Grandpa G whispered the secret to controlling a golem, to making life of clay. To destroying that life with a press of the thumb.

Marco learned not to count anything out he hasn’t seen disproven with his own eyes. Eva lit candles for the Virgin Mother and for the ancestors, for Rihannon and Guabancex and the Holy Ghost. Marco doesn’t always honor the old rituals, but he also doesn’t cross still waters or take favors from strangers. He always cleans spilled salt and keeps a tiny iron knife tucked into one pocket. He wears his underwear inside out and spits on the floor after wishing good luck. He hedges his bets.

Rachel’s heard of the old gods, of course she has. They were the fascination of her entire primary school year for a full week, just after unicorns and slightly before everyone became silly amateur witches.

Andalite culture frowns on superstition, and so Ax does as well. Outwardly, at least. That means not telling anyone how thoroughly, how casually, Elfangor has always believed in magic. It means not thinking of the still pool of water, the silver knife, the other scrying tools from eldritch andalite culture… and the way his brother would, just sometimes, know things it was surely impossible for anyone to have seen.

“I put no faith in magic,” Marco says, when Cassie tells them about her dreams. “I don’t trust it, and neither should you.”

«Fine, then.» Tobias glares at him. «Explain how we had the same dream, about the same voice, every single night. Go ahead. We’re waiting.»

Andalite magic isn’t like Earth magic, they’ll come to learn. And sometimes the magic and technology are hard to tell apart at a glance.

It was just a long-distance call, Ax insists when they find him. He doesn’t know how they talked to a whale. He can’t explain why Tobias, but not any of the others, would have received that call. Surely it doesn’t mean anything. Technology only looks like magic, when viewed from a distance.

Tobias sees the rabbit disappear when it enters the unnaturally round circle of mushrooms. But he’s hungry, and he’s tired, and the rabbit is fat and white and moving slow. He doesn’t pull up from the dive in time. Instead he follows it inside—

And hits the ground on two stubby-toed feet, strong human arms thrown out for balance. He’s naked, but that seems incidental. He’s human. He hasn’t been human for almost six months.

Mostly human. There are feathers on his arms and along his back. He sees through hawk eyes and hears with hawk ears, a raptor’s head on top of a human body. He thinks of ancient Egypt, of that god with the ankh, when he imagines how he must look.

And then he staggers back several steps, all the way to the edge of the suddenly-vast circle of mushrooms, at the sight of the beings who approach. Their leader is a tall man made even taller by the enormous antlers that sprout from his head. Behind him walk trees who are also teenage girls, goats upright on two legs, an entire court of half-human half-other beings.

Tobias’s whole body is cold with fear. He tries to fly, but his wings cannot lift heavy human bones. Tries to speak, and a hawk’s harsh cry comes out of his mouth.

“Come, little hunter,” the king who is both stag and man says. “Dance with us.”

«What will you give me if I do?» Tobias asks, finding a different voice. A stupid and brave thing to say.

The king smiles. “An answer to one question.”

Tobias doesn’t ask what’ll happen if he refuses. He’s no fool. So when they start to dance, he joins the flow of their bodies.

His body moves with grace and speed impossible to him. There is no music, other than the endless eerie wails of the other dancers. The dance rages around him, drags him down into dizzy undertow. He can either keep up, or he can be crushed underfoot. Those are the only options. He dances.

It’s been no time at all. It’s been years. Exhaustion sets in. Hunger. Thirst.

But Tobias is no fool. He refuses their cordials and fruits, their temptations of hide and bone. The glistening pomegranates and airy cakes are easy to ignore. The fresh-killed snake, the blood-warm fox… Those are much harder.

Once, they bring before him a plump, struggling rabbit. It’s enormous, fat and juicy and still kicking, and he feels himself weaken. But just before he swings his enormous beak forward to rip at the flesh, he catches a hint of its true reflection in the eyes of the river-maiden who holds it.

It’s not a rabbit. It has the seeming of a rabbit, but even now he can hear its cries. Close to rabbit cries, close… but not quite.

Tobias rears back. He doesn’t see what happens to the not-a-rabbit, because he chooses not to. And it’s easier after that, so much easier, to refuse the haunches and marrows that they try to pass his way.

Maybe that’s why they throw the net over him. Darkness and pain cage him in. His inner hawk panics, screaming and breaking bones against its sides. But a half-remembered bit of lore surges to the front of his human mind.

He morphs. Speed is of the essence, and he twists down to the shape of a garter snake he has never acquired. The net tightens, so he grows large. Becomes one of the hork-bajir that haunt his nightmares, with blades to slash the net. So it becomes sticky and dense, and he becomes a spider who can scuttle along its lines. It grows heavy enough to crush him, so he surges upward and out as a stegosaurus. It ensnares him with clever knots, and he grows human fingers that he might untie them. It weights him down, so he goes hawk to fly free. It becomes fibers that abrade and embed, so he takes on andalite shape to slash the bindings to pieces.

After that, the net falls away. He stares around the clearing in all four directions at once, seeing them now for what they really are. His chest is heaving, his tail blade trembling. He’s desperately tired, but here is no place to sleep.

The woman whose hair drags clear the ground steps forward. She presses a hand against his cheek, and just like that he’s the human-hawk again. Only the andalite stalk eyes remain, along with the taloned feet of a hork-bajir. The world around him remains vicious and savage and beautiful.

“You have entertained us well, little changeling,” she says. “You may go now.”

«Wait—» Tobias knows it’s stupid to argue, but he also knows it’s even stupider to leave here with a bargain unresolved. «My question.» He takes a breath, filling human lungs nestled between andalite hearts. «What am I?»

The woman laughs, a tinkling sound that fills the clearing. “My dear boy, there’s no need to ask us directly, not after we just spent all evening answering you.”

And just like that, Tobias is a hawk. Or something with the seeming of a hawk. He sits on the ground just outside an ordinary circle of mushrooms, the rabbit he followed mere inches away.

He watches it leave. He’s not hungry for rabbit anymore, and suspects he might never be again.

Little changeling, she called him. And he cannot help but wonder what might’ve become of the boy he replaced, remembering the not-a-rabbit’s helpless cries.

“Fuck it,” Marco says. Only it comes out like “f-f-f-f-f-fuck i-t-t-t-t” because his teeth are chattering so hard. They ended up somewhere covered with ice and snow and devoid of life except for polar bears. No. Scratch that. They’re nowhere. This place might as well be the surface of the fucking moon.

Which is why he’s gone just crazy enough through some combination of hypothermia and desperation to be trying this now. His fingertips and toes are already grey-white with frostbite at the edges. Ax is upright for now, but has already collapsed twice. They’re fucked. Utterly and completely fucked.

Unless, of course, Marco can coax fire from ice.

The theory behind it is perfectly sound. Take a beam of sunlight, direct it through a curved lens — in this case a chunk of ice floe that Ax carved with his tail and Marco shaped with what little heat is left in his hands — and that’ll generate heat. Generate enough heat, and the kindling should ignite.

Only, if you stop to think about it for half a second, that’ll never work in an environment as cold as this one. If Marco stops to think, he’ll remember that the tiny pile of kindling will burn up in an instant if it even combusts at all.

The kindling is a pile of hair, blond and brown, black and blue. And a single crumpled feather, striped in brown and gold. A small, sad pile. But also: A sacrifice. An evocation.

It shouldn’t work. It shouldn’t.

Cassie is murmuring something that Marco elects to ignore. Because Marco doesn’t believe in astrotheology. He doesn’t believe in pyromancy. He just needs to believe in reality.

The sun’s own light casts through the fragment of glacier in his hand. The concentrated seed of its power rests squarely in that nest of hair. Don’t move, Marco wills his aching, cold-numb hands. Don’t move. Focus. Breathe. Don’t move. Believe.

Smoke curls. Jake makes a noise, cutting himself off. Marco imagines his own mind, focusing in a beam just like that weak Arctic sunlight. Imagines it bending into a pure, strong core with the power of that ice. The world fades away. The cold recedes, or maybe that’s just the final stages of hypothermia setting in.

The hair puts up a tiny curl of flame. The flame gutters and grows. It races along strand after strand. The smell is something animal and awful, but the fire is growing. It’s becoming red at the edge and blue at its core, hotter than the meager fuel should allow. Marco’s teeth are clenched so hard they cannot chatter, his whole body clenched around where the dying skin of his hands presses with unforgiving power against the ice that kills it.

The flame grows. It grows. It’s not possible, and that very fact seems to add strength to its stubbornness.

It’s candle-sized by now. It could illuminate a lantern. It’s throwing shadows and glow onto Cassie’s face where she crouches across from him, still chanting. It’s a fistful of flame. It’s a campfire.

The hair is gone by now. Even the ice is melting away, every drop of water that hits the flames becoming like oil in its power.

Marco sits down, hard, on the now-slushy ice. Jake is leaning forward, laughing, crying, tears frozen to his face. Rachel thrusts both hands at the flames, fingers starting to unfurl from their painful permanent clench. Even the frostbite on Cassie’s nose and Ax’s stalk-eyes is visibly healing, another impossibility even with the hearthfire now flowing strong between them.

“This,” Marco whispers, sunning himself in the heat of cannot-be, “is insane.”

Cassie steps out into the daylight beyond the barn, half-startled as always by the shock of its heat. She isn’t like Marco; she doesn’t need explanations or words. Her father has always just focused on using whatever works, without trying to apply her mother’s formal empiricism. Sometimes the creatures bring themselves in for healing, and usually when they do they don’t look like any animal that has ever appeared in one of Michelle’s zoology textbooks.

Sometimes Walter sits out all night with a deer’s head cradled in his lap, a snake wound through both his hands, or one of the beings who is neither mammal nor reptile sheltered by the curve of his body. He wills, on those nights, and sometimes a broken-legged deer will run free or a fatally ill snake will roll healthy from his palms when he’s done. Whenever that happens, whenever the will succeeds, he’ll come inside with a few more white hairs, slightly more of a limp in the creeping arthritis of his knee. That’s the reason Cassie isn’t allowed to join her father on those nights, isn’t allowed to help beyond her mother’s methods: needles full of cortisone, needles trailing twine.

It’s also the reason she doesn’t know how this works. She suspects that her father doesn’t know either — Walter’s the type to shrug and say they can either explain the molecular structure of water or they can fill this water trough that’s empty now, and only one will ensure the horses remain healthy on a day this warm. So maybe not knowing isn’t a hindrance, not when it comes to willing wellness to travel from her body into another.

The being she holds in her hands has certainly never appeared in any of Michelle’s books. Which is part of the reason that Earth’s weak yellow sun, giver of both cancer and trees, can do nothing for her.

Aftran needs kandrona, needs the rich light of her homeworld. Cassie has no kandrona to give.

“Please,” Cassie whispers. She holds the fragile little body toward the sky, an offering to Sol. “Please, just hold on for a little while longer.”

Aftran doesn’t answer. Aftran cannot hear her, cannot see the brilliant star that warms them both.

Cassie can feel the weakness inside of Aftran, the hunger. Tonight they’ll take her to the sea. Tonight they’ll give her whale DNA, and a new chance at life. She only has to make it that long.

She’s not sure when the trance begins, or how long it lasts. Later, she’ll have no memory of her knees giving out and her shins hitting the dirt, or of the hours she spends with her hands raised toward the sky in supplication.

It’s Aftran who wakes her. Aftran who sends a jolt of something through the connection they’ve shared ever since their minds were briefly one. It jars Cassie and causes her to topple over.

Aftran is strong, scrunching and stretching fins as she basks in the glow of a sun she shouldn’t even be able to see or feel. Cassie is weak, joint-aching and head-pounding as she fights unconsciousness. The feeling is so overpowering, so painful and unlike anything she’s experienced before, that it takes Cassie several seconds of lying on her side fighting even to breathe to recognize this as hunger.

Not hunger, famine. The dangerous kind that leaves her body screaming for sustenance, devouring its own fats and muscles in its desperation to find more fuel for the fire that keeps her alive. Cassie has grown up secure, with a full refrigerator and loving parents. This ravening full-body ache brings to mind her great-grandmother’s stories of sharecroppers so desperate as to devour earthworms and hay seeds.

But Cassie has it easy. She is on her own planet, and she is a child of plenty. All she needs to do is crawl the ten feet to her parents’ vegetable patch. To rip the first of the row of carrots from the ground, rolling the dirt off between her palms before she eats it. Stealing the sun’s sustenance from this plant that has worked so hard to store it.

She is human. She cannot make her own energy from suns’ light like Aftran. To be human is to murder and devour just to stay alive. But to be human is to choose, at times like these, to share the plenty that surrounds her.

Aftran rests on the back of Cassie’s wrist now. Stronger than she has any right to be. Cassie rips the life from another carrot, and stops for a moment of gratitude before she begins to devour.

Rachel takes time to gather the supplies. A mason jar emptied of jam. Nails and tacks and razor blades, sharp nasty iron and steel to keep evil at bay. Sea salt and rosemary to purify and protect, layered inside the jar overtop. And then, last of all, several ounces of her own urine. To mark it as hers, old-school the way that wolves do. The lid sealed with wax from a black-tallow candle, wrapped with red ribbon to keep the magic inside. She buries it at the edge of her yard, whispering invocations to Aphrodite and Ares as she does.

She can’t take it with her, especially not when she morphs, but she can create a bubble the length and width of the property. She can carve out a space for herself and her mom, Sara and Jordan, that no yeerk can enter. She has power.

She tests it one time, calling Mr. Chapman to come pick up Melissa at her place. Smiling, lips pulled tight with glee and anger, she watches him get to the edge of the property line and… stop.

Watches as his head shakes, his body shifts, and he comes no further. The spell holds. The yeerk leaves.

And then comes the day when Melissa herself freezes at the edge of the yard, an expression of confusion on her face. She leaves, after a while. Only it’s not really her leaving. Not anymore.

Rachel doesn’t feel so smug about the spell, after that.

«Please be quiet,» Ax says, after the fourth or fifth time Jake asks Cassie in an undertone how much longer this is going to take. «I am not confident in this process, and cannot do with distractions.»

They stand at the edge of a waterfall deep in the California woods. It’s not much, less than ten feet tall, but that’s not what’s important. What’s important is the place, and the harmony of that place.

What’s important, Ax knows, is the entropy. Water eroding rocks, breaking down walls. Trees broken apart by murmurations of termites and fractals of rot. Nature building and pulling down, creating and destroying, allowing no rest but in rhythmical motion, chasing everything out of one beautiful form into another.

Entropy is a release of cosmic energy. That’s what Elfangor taught him, anyway. And if he does it right, if he feels this place — water in his hooves, wind in his fur, seeing and feeling and becoming a part of that steady joyous death — he can harness and direct some small fraction of that energy.

The energy flows out of him, and down the bond. He thinks he can feel it. His strength becoming Tobias’s, Tobias’s pain becoming his.

“Is it working?” Jake loses patience again.

«I believe it might be,» Ax says. He reaches out, all four eyes closed, and takes Jake’s hand in his. A second human hand, strong and blunt and warm, wraps around his other wrist, as Cassie takes hold.

His shorm is not here. His only family on this planet is in the yeerks’ hands. They are hurting Tobias right now.

Rachel and Marco are on a rescue mission. Jake and Cassie and Ax are here, having walked for hours in the wrong direction, standing by a destructive stream. Keeping Tobias alive.

Jake sinks to his knees, gasping hard. Cassie is making a small noise in the back of her throat, one that has no words. Their strength flows through Ax, and away. The power in their joints, the sight in their eyes and the succor in their limbs, drains away. Every heartbeat, every breath, leaves them and does not return.

No one asks if it’s working now. There are tears running down Jake’s face, his hand trembling in Ax’s as it squeezes hard enough to grind bones. But they don’t let go, and they don’t end the spell. They send strength down the bloodline, down the lines more powerful than blood, until one by one they fall into the icy current when they have nothing left to give.

“I don’t believe in magic,” Marco says, but he uses the same tone as when he says “I don’t believe in aliens.”

Cassie asks her father, her grandmother, and her mother’s grandmother more questions. She pretends it’s idle curiosity, any time her father asks.

Rachel finds that coven she once thought so silly. They teach her to write names on willow-pulp paper and freeze them underwater, to drag minds away from the forces that might otherwise take hold. “Melissa,” she whispers, “Melissa Andrea Chapman,” and she prays it will work this time around.

Anyway, they kind of win.

The first person to appear to him is an unfamiliar woman with rough-cropped hair. No one Jake knows, or no one he remembers, anyway. But she wasn’t on the dead, drifting hulk of the Rachel a second ago, and now here she stands. So the ritual must have worked.

“I’m sorry to disturb your rest,” Jake tells the ghost. “I just…” He looks down at the drying clay still smeared across his hands, the familiar characters in cascading rows across his arms and across the metal of the deck. It’s earth, farther from the Earth than any precious quantity of dirt has ever been. Just like him.

“I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t choose it.” She crouches in front of him, placing an inexplicably warm hand over his. “I’m Jondrette. You saved my life at the battle under the garment factory. You should’ve killed us. Instead you called off your forces, told us to run.”

“You died anyway,” Jake says sadly. “You owe me nothing.”

“Not before I returned the favor.” She smirks, proud of herself. “Visser Three would’ve killed you in that hospital garage, had we not shot him from behind. I owe you nothing,” she agrees. “Because you’re going to die anyway.”

“I’m scared,” he confesses.

The Blade Ship, and the thing it became, are gone. He rammed it. Shattered shrapnel floats past through the Rachel’s failing gravity. He won, and all it cost was everything.

“I don’t think I want to die anymore, but…” Jake laughs, harsher than expected. There’s no one to lead here, no one to impress. “It’s a little late for that now, huh?”

«It’s all right to be scared,» Elfangor says, when he appears. «You’ve done well.» He looks andalite and human, standing guard over Jake’s death as Jake once did for him.

Jake nods, and Elfangor returns it as a bow.

«You’ve honored us all, and it was an honor to serve with you, my prince.»

This new ghost causes Jake to surge several inches off the deck in horror before he falls back, lacking the strength to stand even in this reduced gravity. “Ax,” Jake gasps. “Ax… No. You?”

«It’s all right,» Ax says. «You killed it. You honored me. The ritual of mourning is complete.»

“I wanted to save you,” Jake whispers.

«And you did. Rest, Prince Jake.»

«You were feared by your enemies, beloved by your cousins. No higher praise can be spoken of any warrior.» Arbron, when he appears, is the same strange duality as Elfangor: all andalite and all taxxon, all at once.

Jake wonders if it’s a nothlit thing, if Tobias…

No. Tobias and Marco, Jeanne and Menderash and Santorelli, all made the escape pod in time before the collision. Jake has to believe that. He has to.

«Rest,» Ax says again. «It’s time.»

“He’s right, you know,” a new voice says, and for the first time Jake feels his eyes prick with tears. “It’s the easiest thing in the world, once you let yourself go.”

A familiar arm slips around him, and Jake lets himself lean against his brother’s shoulder. “You’ll stay with me?” Jake asks, hating the weakness in his own voice. “You’ll stay?” He doesn’t know how long he can keep up the ritual.

“‘Course,” Tom says. “No getting rid of me now.”

The specter shapes crowd the room by now, crouching close or standing by. All here, if Jondrette is to be believed, because they chose to be.

It’s harder to breathe, now. Harder to see, darkness blurring his vision. Tom is warm against his side, but Jake is bitterly cold.

“I don’t want it to end,” Jake slurs. Falling asleep never hurt this much, and the dreams that awaited him on the other side were rarely kind.

“It doesn’t.” She’s already grinning when she appears in front of him, like this is the greatest daredevil stunt ever pulled. “We go on.” Rachel gestures around to the crowd on the bridge. “Aren’t all of us proof of that? Nothing is ever lost.”

“Go on to where?” Jake can’t help asking.

At that she laughs. “Like I’d spoil the surprise. C’mon, I’ll show you. Let’s do it.”

She grabs his hand and yanks him forward. Or maybe that’s Tom, shoving him from behind. Or Ax’s smile, eyes only, pulling him in.

A small strand of space-time goes dark and coils into nothingness.

#animorphs #animorphs au #long post #aus #magic au #character death #animorphs spoilers #high fantasy au #gore #starvation mention #brief oblique references to cannibalism #child endangerment #fae #witchcraft #thank you to all the internet strangers who helped with research on this one #i'll blame that for the fact that this ask has been sitting in my inbox unanswered since 2016 #anyway here it is #anonymous #asks

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