#i swear any fandom i am in i always get picked on by losers who will go as anon.what is this shit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thewritingstar · 4 years

Text

Until My Heart Stops Racing

Pairing: Mitch x Mike (or Bitch as I like to call them, ya know cause Believe x Mitch.....nvm lol)

Fandom: The Powerpuff Girls

Note: This was a commission for the wonderful @lisathefan who gave me the cutest prompt and I know she loves her crack ships. I hope you enjoy my dear and thanks to my beta, Faxx for helping me!

Word count: 5538

---

The car whipped into the parking space, dirt flying around us and I felt my heart rate finally go back to its normal beating. I looked over to Butch who had a goofy grin and ignoring everything he just did.

“Butch your driving is terrible. Now I get why you fly everywhere.” I groaned as I finally got out of the car. “I swear if Brick saw how you drove this thing... actually I don’t want to think about it.” I thought that speeding was illegal but apparently if the cops can’t even see your car, it's a free pass. And being in touch with the puffs might be a bonus we all have.

Butch let out a laugh before locking the car. “Relaxe Mike, what Brick doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” He shrugged and sometimes I wondered how he could even say that. Brick could kill someone with just a glance but when you are a superhuman, and his brother, maybe the effect doesn’t work.

Maybe I should ask Blossom about that.

The beeping of other cars brought me out of my trance as I followed him on the dirt path.

“Anyways, why did you drag me all the way out here?” I turned to see the lights and the signs. “The fair?”

In front of me was the entrance to what could only be deemed as a somehow legal way to make people shell out three hundred dollars on cheap food and even cheaper ride systems. Every kid wanted to go to the fair and, yeah, it was fun when you were five, but now that we had just graduated high school, it seemed more dangerous than fun.

“Yeah, why not?”

I glanced at him and he only smiled widely but something in his eyes had mischief written all over it. “What's the deal?”

He sighed and smirked.

“A little birdy told me you got heart eyes for a certain someone.” Butch threw his arm around my shoulder. “And as the king of romance, I’m gonna help you out.”

Theres always a small tinge of fear whenever Butch gets an idea. It either ends badly where someone gets hurt, usually him or bad in the way that we all get in trouble and the notorious Powerpuff Girls have to get us out of it. But this...this was much worse.

“Butch, what did you do?” I said through gritted teeth. He only laughed at me instead of answering and pushed up towards the gates.

“Relax. Look they are here.” He pointed.

I followed his sight and walking up towards us was Buttercup, Robin and Mitch. Butch let out another laugh, probably because he could hear my heartbeat. Fuck superhearing. Of course Robin opened her mouth. You tell a girl while you’re throwing up that you have the biggest crush on your best friend who wears dark leather, has piercings and makes your heart swoon and think that she can keep her mouth shut. But no, she can’t.

“Hey guys.” Butch waves to him before leaving me to wrap his arms around Buttercup and ignore the public by kissing her square on the lips. PDA is always gross unless you’re the one doing it, so I can’t blame them. Also it's funny to watch her smack his arm.

“Sup Mikey.” Robin smiles smugly. Little demon.

“Hey. Hi Mitch.” He gives me a wave and a nod of the head and I have to mentally tell myself not to blush. Stupid hormons.

“Come on you two.” Robin says and grabs my arm and Mitch’s and forces us towards the carnival’s entrance. “Lets go!”

One of the perks to being besties with the puffs is the mass amount of freebies. Buttercup swiftly pulled out a ticket for each of us and handed it to the ticket collector.

“Sweet, free entrance.” Mitch smiled at me and held up his hand for a fist bump.

I gladly returned the gesture and every time I did so, I wondered if he could feel the electric spark between us. God, I need to stop reading romance novels.

“Alright losers. We��ll see you all later tonight, meet up for fireworks at 9?” Buttercup said and apparently everyone already had a plan that I was not aware of.

“Sounds good to me!” Butch smirked. “BC and I are going to do coupley stuff no one wants to see and Robin said something about henna soooooo.” He looked at me. “Guess Mitchy boy and Mikey are on their own.” I didn’t miss his wink and before I could protest, everyone was walking away.

My mind was now racing as I tried to comprehend what was happening. I realized in this moment that the group had ganged up on us, well specifically me. Mitch probably didn’t even think twice as the group broke up but they were out of their minds if they thought something was going to happen.

“Wanna hit the rides?” He asked.

I take a breath before nodding. We turn into the direction of the ride area and I have to remind myself that he is just a friend. A friend. Nothing more, nothing less. I usually have my emotions in check but for some reason, they want to act up now. All I have to do is get through tonight without embarrassing myself or giving Butch the satisfation of him being the king of romance. As if that were possible.

The area is buzzing with so much energy. There’s little kids whining and screams coming from the various rides. The smells of corn dogs, popcorn and, oddly enough, waffles mixed in the air and I can’t tell if it smells good or not but I know my pockets are gonna be much lighter by the end of the night.

We get into the shortest line for the tickets and it's truly a scam that each ride is a separate cost.

“I don’t feel like dying tonight so I think two rides is good for me.” Mitch says and I laugh a little because it's true. Just watching the swings makes me feel like one of them unhinge and plummet to the ground but that's what I get for being a paranoid person.

“I feel you. How about the rollercoaster and ummm... the spinning ride?” I suggest.

“Sounds good to me.” He smiles and god fucking dammit, those damn dimples.

The line moves as we chat about the newest horror movie coming into theaters and how Mitch saw a certain pair of redheads making out in a car.

“Wait for real?”

“I swear to god dude.” He raised his hand. “Unless some other chick wears a big ass bow, it has to be them.”

“Interesting.” I smile and soon we get called next.

“Hi there boys, how many tickets can I get ya?” the older woman asks.

“Ten.” Mitch says and I reach into my pocket to grab my wallet, that may or may not have a photo of all of our friends and definitely not for the reason that I can see his face at any given time, but Mitch stops me and places the cash in the tin. “I got it.” he says casually and something inside me felt all warm and fuzzy as the row of blue tickets was handed to him.

“Have a nice date night.” The woman says as we walk away and I almost do a double take thinking I heard her wrong. But when I look over to Mitch, he seems unaffected by the words so I just let it slide.

The rollercoaster isn’t as grand or cool as the ones at the theme park, it doesn’t even go upside down but it has a good bit of hills and bumps to give some air time so i guess it will do. The only problem is that these workers don’t care and make Mitch and I sit in the same cart as these two younger kids.

After we get the bars onto us, the ride starts to go. In front of us the girl grabs the boy's arm and I give a small eye roll as we start to climb the lift hill.

“Babe I'm scared.” She cries and he wraps an arm around her shoulders and I’ve never been so jealous of middle schoolers before.

“These carts are so damn small.” Mitch complains. And it's true. The two of us squished in this together leaves no space for our arms. The pressure of our shoulders touching isn’t too bad but it's to the point it almost hurts. “Hold on.” He says and I feel him pull his right arm away from mine and throw it behind us. “Sorry this is better.”

“No, it's cool bro.” I say even though I realize that this boy really just made it ten times harder to breath now.

I can barely grasp my surroundings as the rollercoaster takes its first turn before the drop. I can see the ending of the track as we go down but the only thing my brain is processing is the fingers tightening on my shoulder.

“Holy shit.” I mumble hoping that Mitch doesn’t know how he's affecting me.

We let out screams and shouts as we go up and down, flying around on the track and I try to enjoy myself, I really do. Before long, it's over and Mitch reaches his hand out to help me up and I take it with silence.

“That was fun.” He smiles and I am really happy he ignored his moms protests and got that lip piercing. It suits him.

“Yeah.” Is all I can muster and he gives me a look before walking towards the next ride.

Luckily as we enter this ride, there’s more room. Only our knees touch as we buckle in the seatbelt and I feel myself being able to breathe better.

“Good thing we didn’t eat before getting on here.” I laugh as the lights start to flash.

He snorts and nods. “Robin would have blown chunks either way.”

The ride is a simple circular track with small hills. All it does is follow the path and goes around pretty fast. Simple but a classic. The music begins and soon we feel the cart shift. I'm sitting on the right while Mitch is on the left, next to the exit and he wiggles off his black beanie just for good measure. His light brown hair, slightly damaged from dying it black back in freshman year, is ruffled from hat hair and my god is it cute.

“Fucking love this ride.” Mitch smiles and it begins to pick up the pace.

Soon, we are at full speed, which is fine. Perfectly fine. Except for the fact that the gravity from the ride is pulling me towards Mitch and no matter how tight I hold on, I end up smacked against him. Shoulders touching and I can clearly smell his cologne. It's the scent of sandalwood and campfire and my god does it smell heavenly. Men just smell like nature and I am more than okay with that.

But Mitch doesn’t mind, because why would he? Instead he's laughing and truly enjoying the ride. I smile and laugh too because honestly, it's just fun to spend time with him. The ride is over faster than I wanted and we hop off, slightly dizzy and I walk a little out of line but he catches my arm and pulls me to him.

“Easy dude.” He chuckles and I nudge him playfully and ruffle his hair before he plops on his beanie. Goodbye cute hat hair.

All of a sudden, my shoulder is hit. It was a pretty hard smack and my body jolted to the side as Mitch grabbed me from falling.

“Look a bunch of homos.” I look up and realize that it's some assholes from our school.

Duke Jones and Mark Dalton. Some of the few people who actually try to be douchebags on the regular.

My eyes do heavy eye rolls and I want to scream at them but I've never been a confronting person. My voice is in my throat but Mitch takes a step forward, his hand never leaving my arm.

“And what of it? Really dudes? You think some lame insult is gonna hurt our feelings. You’re lucky I don’t just kick your ass, better enough I can call Buttercup in a second and have your bodies all the way across this place. Grow the fuck up and maybe don’t choke on your toxic masculanity.” He sneered and sometimes I forget that Mitch can be pretty intimidating.

Their eyes widened as Mitch pulled out his phone to show BC’s number. They mutter something before turning and rushing off in a hurry.

“You okay?” He asks me.

“Yeah.” I say. “Sorry you got caught in that.”

“It's not a big deal.”

But it is. It's not a secret that I'm out and proud. Yeah its cool and all to not have to be closeted, even Princess came out last year so its nice to know that someone higher up won’t pick on me, but even then, it sucks. No matter where I go in life, someone will be there with a flame thrower of slurs or anger for something I didn’t choose. As for Mitch, theres something about him being called gay and him not having a hissy fit about it that makes me feel safe. Uhh fuck.

I take a second to recollect myself and Mitch just pulls me from the herds of eyes that saw that fiasco.

“Lets go here.” He points to the hall of mirrors and for some reason it's beginning to get extremely hard to be around him.

But I take a deep breath and push those feelings to the side once again.

The hall of mirrors was by far the lamest thing the fair could have done. Sure, as a little kid it was cool and slightly scary but now, all of our heads could see just above the tips of the mirrors making it lose the effect. It probably would have been more fun if the others were there. Butch would hide behind the mirros trying to scare us before Buttercup sent some lasers his way causing them to bounce everywhere and making us duck and cover. Good times. However, it was just Mitch and me.

While Mitch was walking, I couldn’t stop thinking about those jerks just now. Of course everyone already knew about my preference but Mitch seemed unbothered by being referred to as gay. Probably because he's not some asshole that thinks it's a bad thing, I mean if he did, why would he be friends with me for all this time? He’s just a good person, that's all.

Not to sound like the coming of age kid, but I knew I was into dudes before I could comprehend the idea of love or romance, I just thought they were pretty to look at. Moving to a new city at such a young age was hard for me, not to mention the whole invisible friend that tried to kill everyone. But after everything was said and done, I did in fact make some friends.

The famous superheroes had become my pals and when Buttercup introduced me to Mitch, I think that's when it all went downhill. We became the dynamic duo and everyone always paired us as the best friends, which is true but...it makes me feel guilty.

He turned a corner and I stopped walking. All of a sudden I was lost and staring at a mirror. Just me in my beat up sneakers and the uncertain face I seem to be wearing a lot lately. There's always a time in your life where you stop and contemplate everything, question all your decisions and how nothing truly matters.

“Hey you stopped walking?” Mitch said to me and I looked at him with a shaky smile.

“Sorry. Lost in thought I guess.”

“Care to share?” He asked and leaned against one of the mirrors.

I laughed to myself thinking about what I could possibly say. “Yeah sure Mitch, why don’t I just tell you that I’m in love with you and how it pains me to wake up to know that you will only see me as just a friend. Why don’t I just rip out my heart and put it on a silver platter for you to squash or just confess and kiss you here, ignoring all the states and hopefully pissing off some people?”

“...What?”

My eyes shot open and my eyes met his. He looked at me with confusion and shock. His mouth hung open slightly and it took me a solid three seconds to relaize that my dumb ass had just blurted that all out.

Panic. That's all I could feel as he stared like a deer caught in headlights. I could feel myself on the verge of tears and suddenly the air was too thick as I turned and ran, not caring about the employee telling me I was going the wrong way.

Mitch’s voice echoed behind me but I couldn’t stand to turn and look towards him. To hear the pure rejection and probably the disgust. Throwing away years of friendship for some stupid feelings? What was I thinking?

After nearly hitting my head several times, I made it out and ignored the weird stares and glances people were giving me. All I wanted to do was find Butch and get out of here and hope that I can just pack up and move away for college. Maybe even change my name.

Instead I found myself pushing my way into the bathroom stall and biting my arm to stifle my sobs. I felt like my heart was about to shatter, that all my nightmares where coming true all thanks to my stupid mouth. I was a fool to think that someone like him would even consider me as something more, a complete and utter fool.

“Mike?” A voice called and of course the sneakers peaking outside the stall belonged to Butch.

“What?” I spat bitterly. “Go away.”

I barely heard his sigh. “Dude, I don’t know what happened but suddenly Buttercup saw you burst into here. Really dude, is everything fine? At least come out and talk to us. Plus it smells really bad in here and there's a line of dudes.”

There's some truth to the matter and I wiped my face and pushed open the stall with a little too much force but luckily he grabbed it and just nodded towards the exit.

Robin and Buttercup are standing outside and luckily, I don’t see Mitch.

“Wanna explain what happened?” Robin asks as she hands me a tissue from her purse.

“No. I just wanna go home.”

Buttercup looks arounds then back to me. “Where's Mitch.”

“Probably somewhere and never wants to see me again.” I mumble.

“What?” She asks and looks towards Butch then back to me.

Butch raised his brow. “Mike, did you tell him?”

“Tell him what?” Buttercup asked.

It was at that moment that Buttercup didn’t know that I was practically in love with her best friend. Maybe Robin and Butch planned this together but it didn’t matter, not anymore. I would be losing two friends after this. Great.

“Look. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t feel the same way.” My throat is dry and it hurts and there's no doubt that my face is red and flushed with tears. “I'm just gonna call my mom to come get me.”

“Come on Mike don’t go.” Robin asked and she padded my arm.

“You don’t get it, Robin.” I spat. “You don’t understand what I just did. Thanks to someone’s dumb idea, I now lost my best friend. And for what? Did we really think he would like me back? That he could even see me in such a way? I don’t even know if he’s gay or let alone into dudes. But who gives fuck? I don’t.”

Butch took a step towards me but my anger only rose. “C’mon Mike I'm sure-”

“This was a stupid idea Butch!” I yelled and at that moment I didn’t care what anyone thought. I was embarrassed and hurt. “I just want to be alone.” I pushed past him and the others, ignoring everything they were saying because it didn’t matter any more.

It didn’t matter that my friends tried to help something that shouldn’t have even been considered. It was just a stupid crush. Nothing more, nothing less. Hopefully by the new semester, it would be gone and out of my system…. hopefully. A stupid crush that I’d been harboring for years and titling on a scale of something more.

It wasn’t long until my tears dried and I found myself among the section of carnival games. All of the rigged and hard to win and if you did win, it would be a small sappy prize that you would toss into a garbage bag or try to sell for a nickel at a garage sale.

There were darts and guessing the weight of a small pig. The basketball tossing and hitting the giant hammer looked tempting but instead I walked to the game that no one had ever won. Ring toss. A game of chance and so incredibly rigged, it's a miracle if one prize is won in a year.

Without a second thought, I gave up a fresh twenty dollar bill and the girl working, who clearly hated her job, handed me the biggest bucket of rings. Enough to keep me entertained until I call my mom or muster up enough courage to ask Butch for a ride back like a dog with its tail inbetween its legs.

I thought I had it all figured out. I thought I could be okay with this. But I was stupid. Stupid to think that the boy I had a crush on, one of my best friends, would like me back, or even be into dudes for that matter. But no, instead of having my secret crush kept, ya know, a secret, the one person who shouldn’t know, did.

I tossed another ring into the sea of bottles, the high pitched clinking echoed for just a moment as another was tossed. Maybe this was pointless. Maybe trying to figure out feelings was a waste of time because in all honesty, I never knew.

Like the plastic rings people pay way too much for, you jump and you think you’ll land on that bottle, secure the prize and show everyone up. Prove that you can do the impossible.

But then you miss and reality comes back. The bucket dwindles down and soon you’re left with nothing but regret for trying and shorting eight bucks.

“Hey.”

I turned, of course he would follow me. Why wouldn’t he? He was probably here just to tell me to let it go and sweep it under the rug, and say it's not weird when it totally is. Or he was going to come out and say that maybe our friendship has come to its expiration date.

“Oh. Hey.” I threw another one, missing again.

I tried not to care as he stood next to me but I passed him the bucket and he took his own shot, missing, just like me.

“Have you been crying?” He asked and there was no way around it.

“Yep.” I popped the p and threw another ring. “Look Mitch, I’m sorry what I said-”

“Don’t be.”.

“Most guys would just push someone like me away if that happened.”

He hummed and tossed a ring, missing. “Well, I’m not like most guys and I thought that was pretty clear. Especially after those jerks. I value your friendship too much to get worried or upset.”

I looked over at him, and that in itself was a mistake, because it would be just my luck that the other carnival games with their bright flashing lights would surround him and make it seem like he was glowing. The lights soften his features, a small twinkle on the black orb of his earring and making those very so light freckles appear.

Almost like a painting hung up in a museum. You think the trip is boring, and for the most part it is. A few interesting things here and there but just as you are about to leave, you find a room you hadn’t explored. It could be nothing and you could leave, forgetting everything in the last three hours and moving on with your life.

Or it could be life changing. As if when you walked in there, the most captivating painting was on that wall and you wonder how you skipped it in the first place. You stare at it, taking in the picture itself and the meaning. Stepping closer and looking at the paint strokes, the time taken to make this is clear and it's full of questions and mystery. The small plaque on the wall fails to answer.

He picked up the last ring. It twirled in his fingertips unsure of where to go.

“I kept thinking, you know.” He said. “I remember watching a show, a random cartoon and an ad for a pride festival popped up. I thought nothing of it, didn’t know what it meant at the time but my father did. He was outraged and changed the channel, screamed and shouted saying that if his son ever was caught doing something like that…” Mitch paused and closed his palm.

I could see the hurt in his eyes as he sighed.

“Then he would have no son. So when I found out what it all meant and learned about myself....I thought it would be best to never act on it. No matter how much I wanted to look towards another guy, I couldn’t.”

“I’m sorry Mitch, I didn’t know.” And it was the truth. I wanted to mentally slap myself for not realizing that he was, in fact, gay as well. Way to go Mike, your gay-dar is broken. But then again, you can’t just tell a sexuality clear as day. I can’t blame him for hiding it, after everything with his dad.

He sighed again. “But when you told me that. Told me you wanted me, I think I started to realize that I would rather have something I want no matter what others think of me. I envy how you can just come out and be proud, as you should, but I wish I was that brave instead of a coward.”

“Mitch.” I slid my hand on top of his cautiously. He didn’t flinch or have any indication of pulling away. “I’m scared every day. Scared that someone might yell something offensive or even try to hurt me. Just like those assholes did earlier.But I can’t stop those things from happening but I can choose to not let them affect me. It's hard but you know you’re surrounded by people who care about you. Plus your best friend is an actual superhero.”

“I know, I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to date such a fuck up like me.”

Fuck up? Did this boy really think that?

“I would never see you as that.” I said honestly. “It's normal for us to have conflicting feelings when someone in our life isn't supportive. It's never gonna be a walk in the park or smooth sailing but when you're with someone who cares about you, it makes it easier.”

He sighed for the hundredth time. It was clear the gears in his mind were running at full steam and he looked at the ring in his hand then to the bottles.

“I guess you’re right Mike. I guess I was thrown off that the dude I've liked since kindergarten likes me back.” He looked towards me and tossed the ring, not bothering to pay attention. “I just hope you haven't changed you mind-”

The next thing I know, my hand is tugging on his worn leather collar and his lips are pressed to mine.

I never thought that my first kiss would be as enchanting as this. You always think it's magical and fulfilling but in reality it's probably a mess of lips that don’t move quite as well and somehow there's a tongue doing whatever it wants. I guess I can’t count this as my first kiss because Robin had peaked me on the lips in third grade, also giving me the clear sexual awakening of how I never want another woman to come near me again, but this was different.

He tasted like cotton candy which I should find gross and oddly weird but I didn’t mind one bit. At the beginning there was a bit of hesitation, or maybe he was caught off guard since I did interrupt him but I couldn’t help myself. Stupid hormones. He wasted no time kissing me back and I even felt a hand on my waist pulling towards him. Although it lasted only a few mere seconds, it was like a lifetime of waiting had lifted.

When we pulled apart, loud speakers and alarms went off above us. I looked towards the game, I noticed one single plastic ring was stuck on the bottle. The worker smiled at us before nodding.

“Wow, I can’t believe you made it, especially without looking.” She said and I looked to Mitch who just shrugged.

“What? You kissed me, I just threw it.” He smiled brightly and I hugged him.

“So what will it be?” I asked him and he turned towards the prizes.

“Well, what about that dinosaur?”

“I love dinosaurs.”

Mitch smiled. “I know.”

The worker used a ladder to climb and retrieve the massive blue dinosaur prize. As a kid, i used to dream of winning such a cool thing but know, I think I got something better. Mitch handed it to me with a blush and I looked at it with just as much pink on my cheeks.

“Ya know.” Mitch started. “I have enough tickets for one last ride. Maybe the ferris wheel?”

“That sounds good.” He reached out his hand and I took it. Before I could blink, I felt his lips press against my cheek.

“I don’t like to see you cry.” He said.

I simply hummed and we walked hand in hand to the ferris wheel before deciding to give the prize to some kids. He handed the tickets to the worker as we climbed into the cart and began to go up. He threw his arm over my shoulder like he did on the rollercoaster, but this time, I leaned against him and let those emotions I tried to keep at bay, run wild.

“I’m really glad Butch dragged me here.” I said honestly and Mitch only laughed and silenced me with his lips pressed against mine.

“Me too.”

When we pulled apart, a few questions still lingered in my mind.

“You mean, you’ve liked me this entire time? And you knew I was gay?” I asked hesitantly. It wasn’t a secret, the last part at least.

He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous tick he's had since he was little. “I mean I wasn’t hundred percent sure, I thought maybe it was a one time thing or just happened occasionally. But as we got older, more specifically high school, I think that's when it hit me.” He sighed. “All I knew was that I wanted to be with you until my heart stopped racing.”

His eyes met mine. I’ve always hated when people didn’t see the beauty in brown eyes. They think they are dull and lifeless, only one hue but that's far from the truth. Mitch’s eyes had spots of gold and a slight tint of green, breathtaking to say the least.

“I mean it’s a shame we spent our high school years just as friends.” My hand went on top of his. “But I’d rather have you as my friend instead of losing you so I understand. But what about your dad? Will be okay with us dating-or well I assume we should-”

“I don’t care about his opinion of us. Plus we would be idiots not to date at this point. If he doesn’t accept. That's his loss not mine.” His gaze went to the sky where a firework exploded.

The colors lit up in the sky and we realized we got lucky as our cart stopped at the very top. It felt unreal to be sitting next to my best friend and now, boyfriend. There's always moments in your life that you feel like were meant to be. Maybe it's the career you chose or the person you marry. Milestones that are already set in stone and fate just happens to bring you together, all that stuff. And as I looked at him through heavy lashes I thought that maybe, just maybe, the stars aligned on this one.

That or I would have to admit that Butch is the king of romance, even though he did literally nothing today and this was all me. Either way, Mikey boy’s got a man.

I hope you enjoyed love!!

#Mitch x mike #mike x Mitch ppg #ppg #ppg fic #fanfic commissions

16 notes · View notes

amentia · 5 years

Text

never miss a night

Fandom: IT Pairing: Patty/Stan Words: 1.2k

This is an extremely self-indulgent fic I wrote based off an AU my dear friend Jules came up with. I won’t get too into the details, as it’s not terribly relevant, but for context, Patty works at a karaoke bar frequented by the Losers, and Stan’s go-to karaoke song is “Fuck Me Pumps” by Amy Winehouse. Thank you for your time.

Kay wakes up to her phone buzzing on her bedside table and blindly gropes for it. When she opens her eyes to sneak a peek at the screen, it’s earlier than she should be up on a weekend when she doesn’t work, and she has a missed call from Patricia Blum.

Patty’s the closest thing Kay has to a work friend. Most of the others who work at the bar with them are skeezy dudes and annoying straight girls, but Patty’s kind and good-natured and such a genuine delight to be around that it’s hard to not be friends with her.

When she picks up the phone, Patty’s breathing heavily, and it almost sounds like she’s been crying. Kay automatically gears herself up to unleash hell on whoever dared to hurt sweet Patricia Blum. “Pat, are you okay?”

Patty finally gasps out, “I’m amazing.” Her voice is shaking, but she’s utterly sincere, and it throws Kay for a loop. “You’ll never believe who I had sex with last night.”

“Who?”

“Okay, you know the guy from the bar who I’ve had the most embarrassing, stupid girl-crush on forever? The one who comes around with that group of gays for karaoke ever so often, who does the most amazing Amy Winehouse?”

It takes Kay a moment to process who she’s talking about, not because there are a plethora of guys to choose from who can pull off women’s shoes so elegantly while singing Amy, but simply because she can’t compute that the guy actually fucks women. She always assumed he was dating the one with the bug-eye glasses who always smells like a half-and-half mix of weed and cigarette smoke, at least until Bug Eyes started bringing around the nervous Mormon-looking guy a few months ago. She likes that group generally. The only one whose name she knows is Beverly, who she had a gender studies class with last semester. They’re loud, and have gotten kicked out for fighting exactly once before, but the guys at the next table definitely deserved it. Plus they’re actually funny and they always tip well. “You did not hook up with Fuck Me Pumps!” she blurts.

“I so did!” Patty squeals. “He’s literally passed out in my bed right now. His name is Stanley, he’s an accounting major, and if he’s gay, he’s overcompensating harder than any closeted guy I’ve ever met, because I had three orgasms last night, Kay, seriously.”

“Oh my God.” Kay really doesn’t know what to say other than that. “I’m happy for you. I just can’t believe he’s actually straight.”

“It literally feels like a dream,” Patty sighs out. “My legs are still shaking. I’m lying down in the bathtub right now because I can barely walk. I’m sorry, am I being too gross?”

“Hell no,” Kay says, because she knows she’s overshared more explicitly about her own hookups to Patty, at work no less, and if anyone deserves this, it’s Pat. “If anything, I want more details. Is it true what they say about the correlation between shoe size and dick length?”

Patty giggles. “I was shocked. He’s very well-endowed for a man with such dainty feet. And!” she exclaims as if she’s just remembering the best part. “He’s even Jewish. I’m gonna marry him, Kay, I swear. If I don’t, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“L’Chaim. Can I be a bridesmaid?”

Patty just hums dreamily. “He’s such a gentleman. It was like a fairytale. I saw him at Ricky’s party last night and I wasn’t gonna say anything, but then he came over to me and introduced himself. He remembered me from the bar and asked me to dance. We were both pretty tipsy and I honestly thought he was just being friendly for the longest time. But after a while he asked if I wanted to go sit in his car, and we started talking. I barely remember what we talked about, I just remember how nice it was. He’s really easy to talk to. Funny too.”

“Jeez, Patty, are you sure you didn’t make him in a lab? He sounds like a dreamboat, and I don’t even swing that way.” Kay has a natural instinct to dump on whatever guy her friends are focused on that week, but Patty’s not giving her much to work with in that regard.

“He drove me home at the end of the night, walked me to my door and everything, and I honestly thought that was gonna be it. I still thought he was gay at that point, mind you. But then he kissed me. And then,” she pauses for dramatic effect, “he fucked me better than I’ve ever been fucked in my entire life. I feel like Cinderella.”

“Except he’s the one in the teeny tiny stilettos.” That makes Patty giggle again. Kay doesn’t think she’s ever heard her sound so happy.

When Patty comes out of the bathroom, Stan’s awake, sitting up on the bed looking both shy and smug at the same time. “‘Better than you’ve ever been fucked in your life,’ huh?”

Patty blushes. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough to significantly inflate my ego for the time being.”

She buries her face in her hands. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be,” Stan says as Patty settles on the bed next to him, and he pulls her onto his lap. “Can I tell you a secret? I’ve liked you for quite awhile, too.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Since the first time I saw you at the bar. I noticed you immediately.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Stan raises an eyebrow. “Harassing a woman while she’s at her job is hardly a good first impression to make.”

“It wouldn’t have been harassment,” she assures him. “None of the regulars who hit on me are as handsome as you. Or as nice.”

“Hmm. So how long have you liked me, exactly?”

“You mean besides the first time I saw you do karaoke in high heels?” Patty asks giddily. “You remember the night you punched that guy in the bar?”

Stan sucks in a breath of air through his teeth. “Unfortunately. I had the broken hand afterward as a reminder. First and only punch I ever threw in my life. I made such a fool of myself that night.”

Patty brushes her fingers through his curls. “I thought you were very charming. You even offered to help me sweep up the broken glass from the fight, messed up hand and all. That’s when I knew I had it bad.”

“All because I had too much to drink and the hubris to think I could take some six-foot-two asshole and his stacked buddies? I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly humiliated.”

Patty shrugs. “He deserved it.”

“Of course he did,” Stan agrees. “He was being rude to you all night. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Patty rises up on her knees and kisses him. “You are something else, Stanley Uris.”

“A good something else, I hope.”

Patty grins. “A great something else.” She kisses his neck, then along his jawline, and whispers in his ear, “You wanna go again?”

Stan takes her by the waist eagerly and flips her over on her back. “I thought you’d never ask.”

#txt #it #stanpat #stanley uris #patricia blum uris #my writing

36 notes · View notes

ddproductionsw77 · 5 years

Text

Ain’t All It’s Cracked Up To Be

Fandom: IT Chapters One & Two

Pairing(s): Reddie (Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak), mentions of Stenbrough and Benverly

Characters: (Major) Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak, (Minor) Beverly Marsh, Ben Hanscom, Bill Denbrough, Stan Uris, Mike Hanlon, (Minor OCs) Sandy Montgomery, Berkeley Wells, Donny Stills

Rating: I mean… T? (I guess there is some heavy suggestion and hard language so M is that offends you)

Description: Richie is almost 3,000 miles away from Eddie when he has a run in with an ex-girlfriend (Aged-Up to college)

Author’s Note: Wow… this got long… Sorry??

|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|

May 1997

Richie threw one shirt after the other from his side of the closet into the suitcase sitting on the bed beside his boyfriend. As he did, Eddie plucked each one up, folding it neatly before replacing it in the suitcase.

“Eight weeks,” Eddie sighed, picking up Richie’s favorite black hoodie with holes all along the cuffs of the sleeves, in the pockets and cigarette burns here and there. Fucking disaster. “We’ve never been apart that long before.”

Richie glanced over his shoulder, throwing a black Dark Side Of The Moon t-shirt at Eddie’s face, “Come on, Eds, don’t get all clingy on me now.”

“I’m not being clingy, asshole!” Eddie snapped, “Eight weeks is a long fucking time! And don’t call me that.”

“Eight weeks is not a long fucking time, Eddie,” Richie scoffed, turning around to give his boyfriend a look, “I’ll be back at the end of July and and you’ll barely have had time to miss me.”

Eddie nibbled at his lip, folding the god awful hoodie up and throwing it in the suitcase with everything else. He looked up to Richie, who was smirking at him with his usual infuriatingly cute smirk. Glaring in response, he said, “You’ll be across the country for two months. We’ve hardly been apart longer than a couple of weeks since we were five, and especially not in the last five years, so fucking excuse me for thinking that I might just miss you. Apparently, you won’t miss me.”

Richie laughed, only to have a pair of jeans thrown at him, “Hey, hey, c’mon, Eds. I’m sorry, okay, but that was just fucking ridiculous.” Eddie continued to glare as Richie went on, “Of course I’ll miss you. I am clingy, Spaghetti Man, remember? I blame my mommy and daddy issues. Being away is gonna fucking blow but…” He shrugged, looking sincere for a moment, “I gotta go.”

Eddie finished folding the last t-shirt and nodded, “Yeah, I know. I’d be fucking furious with you if you didn’t go. It’s just,” He groaned, throwing his head back, “It’s LA, Richie.”

Richie glanced away, knowing exactly what Eddie was getting at.

He and Eddie had been dating nearly five years… if you didn’t count a short—very fucking short—break-up right before they finished high school three years prior. It was so short, it shouldn’t even fucking count but it had still happened. And it had happened because Richie had thought—barely even contemplated—going to college at UCLA instead of following Eddie to NYU.

With a sigh, he shook his head, “It’s LA for a killer eight week internship; I’m not going to stay and finish up my B.A. there or anything, Eds.”

“That’s not funny, dickwad,” Eddie glowered as Richie carried on, unfazed.

“I’ll get actual air time, Eddie. On the actual radio, not just the shitty campus radio gig I got now where only ten people tune in and six of them are Losers.” Richie reasoned for the umpteenth time. He was starting to loose track of the times he and Eddie had had this exact conversation since he’d first applied for the damn thing.

“I know that, Richie,” Eddie said, standing up from the bed, “I want you to go. Still fucking sucks.”

Richie half smiled, “Totally blows ass.”

Eddie couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from curling into a smile. Laughing, he stepped forward, throwing his arms around his boyfriend’s neck and kissing him with everything he could. Richie gripped Eddie’s hips with an equal desperation, holding him in place against him.

Reaching up, Eddie tangled his fingers into the hair at the nape of Richie’s neck and purposefully tugged, knowing exactly how much it drove Richie crazy. Richie responded just how Eddie had wanted him to, gasping into their kiss.

Pulling away, Richie breathlessly groaned, “No fucking fair.”

“Too damn bad,” Eddie challenged, looking into Richie’s darkened eyes with his own.

There was a moment that they just stared each other, each waiting and wondering what move the other was going to make and when. Then, as if they’d planned it, they crashed back together, Eddie hooking his arms around Richie neck and Richie lifted him and Eddie wrapped his legs around his waist. They pressed together, kissing despite already being lightheaded.

Slowly, Richie moved them over to the bed, breaking apart only to carefully lay Eddie down, tossing his t-shirt off before climbing on top of him. Eddie laughed, reaching up to softly trail his fingertips over the familiar plains of his boyfriend’s chest. Slipping his hand up behind Richie’s neck, he pulled him down for another searing kiss before breaking apart again just to sit up and rid himself of his shirt as well, tossing it to the floor beside Richie’s.

Laying back down, the two tangled together. Richie’s hands moved down to Eddie’s leg, moving it to hook around his as he propped himself up on his elbow. Eddie reached between them, his hand tugging at the waist of Richie’s jeans. Breaking away, he gasped, “These need to go.”

Richie laughed, nodding.

He stood, quickly undoing his fly and looking back at his boyfriend, laying before him, waiting and watching. He paused, taking in every detail of Eddie he could to commit it to memory, engrave it into his mind. His stomach twisted at the thought of leaving all this in just twelve hours. And then to be with out it for two months.

Two months before he saw the freckles along Eddie’s collar bones or the way his hair got messed up from rolling around in bed, the warmth of his skin or the softness of his ear, his cool fingertips… His chest clenched.

Below him, Eddie propped himself up on his elbows, cocking his head, “Richie, what’s wrong?”

“Jesus, Eddie,” Richie shook his head, throat burning, “I’m gonna miss you, baby.”

Eddie’s heart raced faster, the way it always did when Richie called him baby, and he felt a lump from in his throat as he nodded, “Yeah,” He bit his lip hard, looking into Richie’s chocolate brown eyes for a long, long moment before whispering, softly, “Show me. Show me how much you’ll miss me.”

In an instant, Richie was back on top of him and they were kissing with a desperation they would never acknowledge or admit to later. Reaching out, they intertwined their hands over Eddie’s head, barely breaking to breathe.

_______________________________________________________________________

Eleven and a half hours later, a group of seven stood in a huddle to themselves in JFK Airport. Beverly was hugging Richie for the third time while Ben and Eddie looked on, glumly. Mike, Bill and Stanley stood a little away, Bill and Stan’s hands linked between then as the three of them made small talk.

“American Airlines, flight 27 to LAX, now boarding.” A monotone voice over their heads dulled out.

Richie looked up at a nearby speaker over Bev’s head and quipped sarcastically, “Well, she sounds great.”

“Richie,” Eddie warned as Richie and Beverly parted. Richie grinned at his boyfriend and shrugged, looking around at the others who were watching him.

“Guess this is it,” Richie shrugged, drumming his hand on the thigh of his jeans nervously. “I’m gonna miss you guys.”

“It w-won’t be the same without you, Trashmouth,” Bill smiled lightly and clapped Richie on the shoulder before returning to his boyfriend’s side.

Stan glanced at Bill before looking back at Richie, nodding, “Yeah, it’ll be like a two month long vacation.”

Richie threw a hand over his heart, “Oh, Stanley! You wound me!” Stan rolled his eyes silently before Richie grinned and gestured for him, “Get over here, Stanley Urine.”

Stanley groaned but moved forward, hugging Richie quickly before quirking a smile and saying, “I hate you.”

Mike hugged Richie tight, patting him on the back a few times before dropping his arms. Before he could step away though, Richie gripped his arm and leaned forward, “Look out for Eds for me, okay? You’re his best friend, you know,” He shrugged, “Besides me, obviously.”

Mike laughed and nodded, “Of course, Rich.”

Ben reached out to squeeze the boy’s arm, saying sadly, “I think I’ll actually miss you too, Richie. But at least I’ll save on groceries with you not coming over to steal food.”

“Haystack! Never have I ever!” Richie faked offense before hugging Ben quickly, “Yeah, I guess I’ll miss you too.”

Beverly stepped forward, taking one of Richie’s hands in hers and staring into his eyes to make sure she kept his attention, “You’ll call me the second you finish your first day tomorrow, right? I mean, after you talk to Eddie?”

“Yes, Bevvy,” Richie answered dutifully.

“And if you find any really good weed, you’ll sneak me back some, right?”

“Yes, Bevvy,”

The red head nodded, reaching out with her free hand to smack Richie’s cheek once before stepping up and lightly kissing the other. “I’ll see you soon, friend.”

“I’ll see you soon, Red,” Richie nodded, dropping Beverly’s hand before looking over beside him only to find Eddie staring back at him.

Bill glanced between the two and cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets, “E-Eddie, we’ll be by the car when you’re ready.”

Eddie half nodded and neither he nor Richie paid attention as the Losers filed away. He stepped forward, resting his hands on Richie’s chest where a Sergeant Pepper’s logo was printed. Keeping his eyes on his hands, he whispered, lightly, “You’re going to be back.”

It wasn’t a question but Richie still answered, reaching up to lace his fingers with Eddie’s, nodding, “I swear to God.” Bring Eddie’s hands to his lips he kissed them gently, “I love you, Eds... You’re not getting rid of me for a long time.”

The corner of Eddie’s mouth twitched and he tightened his grip momentarily, “Good...” He finally brought his eyes up to Richie’s, meeting his gaze as he slipped one hand free to rest of the other’s cheek, “I love you, too.”

Richie felt his heart skip a beat. Eddie didn’t say the L-O-V-E word willy nilly like Richie tended to. Richie knew Eddie’s feelings, had no doubts in them whatsoever but it still caught him a bit off guard when he heard Eddie speak them aloud. Grinning, he ducked his head down and kissed Eddie hard before pulling away.

“I gotta go,” He said softly and Eddie nodded. Picking up the suitcase beside him, Richie wanted till the last second to let go of Eddie’s hand before turning and walking to his gate.

_______________________________________________________________________

June 1997

After finishing his first week in LA, Richie knew he’d made the right choice. Los Angeles... it was incredible. People in LA didn’t look twice at him, didn’t give him looks or roll there eyes in distaste. People in LA actually socialized and talked and, best of all, partied. Every night after he got done with his small, hour long segment before the prime time host came on, Richie went out to a new bar or club with his fellow interns, Berkeley and Donny.

They’d decided on a club with a Rolling Stones cover band playing for that night’s adventure, heading out together.

Berkeley was—no surprise—born and raised in California, about to finish her last year at UCLA, which Richie had commented on multiple time. She was pretty enough and quite good for killing time with bantering and joking but she was no Beverly Marsh. Still, Richie liked her okay.

Donny was from Washington and had moved for college, attending Butler University somewhere in Indiana. The kid was so high most of the time, Richie found it hard to believe that he’d just graduated with honors and took the internship as resume filler. Still, occasionally, Donny was capable of surprising, like fixing a glitch in the queue system at the station in ten minutes flat.

Walking down the sidewalk, Richie glanced over at Berkeley, “Hey, so this friend of yours, you sure he can pull this off? This show is supposedly sold out.”

“She, Richie,” Berkeley rolled her eyes, “And yes. If you knew her, you wouldn’t even ask.”

They reached the club, finding a line of people standing and waiting. Berkeley held her head up and confidently led the way for Richie and Donny to the front. The bouncer gave her a look. Berk flashed him a smile, “Berkeley Wells, Donny Stills, and Richie Tozier. We were invited by Sandy.”

Richie cocked his head to the side, something in the back of his mind trying to come forward... he didn’t know what.

The bouncer nodded, gesturing them forward. As they passed, he leaned down and whispered something to Berkeley, who smiled and nodded. Once they were in Richie was reminded again just how many people were in the world. The place was packed, music playing over the speakers but nothing live as the band hadn’t started up yet.

Berkeley grinned and turn around, yelling at the two of them, “Follow me!”

Richie looked at Donny but the only guy only shrugged and took off after Berkeley. With a sigh, Richie trailed behind, making sure not to lose sight of Berk’s platinum blonde hair in the crowd. She lead them to a door marked ‘Employees Only’ and pushed her way in. Following, Richie found it slightly quieter back stage.

“What are we doing, Berk?” Donny asked, not sounding so much concerned as curious.

“My friend invited us back stage,” She shrugged, “Might be cool to meet the band before they go on.”

Richie rolled his eyes, “You realize this isn’t actually Keith Richards and Mick Jagger, right? They’re a cover band, not all that exciting to meet.”

“You’re lucky none of them can hear you, Trashmouth, they’d demand I throw you out,” A voice said behind him, familiar and instantly identifiable. Suddenly, the little voice in the back of his head, that thought that had tried to present itself to him, became clear and he knew exactly who it was standing behind him.

Richie whirled around and stopped dead in his tracks, “Sandy?”

_______________________________________________________________________

“Sandy? Sandy Montgomery?” Beverly exclaimed into the phone. “As in Sexy Sandy? Your ex-girlfriend?!”

Richie laughed, shaking his head, “God, I forgot that nickname.”

“Richie, this is not funny!” Bev snapped, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear, “What happened when you saw her?”

“Nothing much,” Richie shrugged, stretching the phone cord as he laid back on his motel bed, “All the normal bullshit you say, I missed you, you look great, how are you. Yada yada.”

“You did not tell her she looked great, Richard,” Beverly groaned, shaking her head.

Richie’s eyebrows drew together, “Actually I said ‘totally banging’ but—“

“Richie,” Beverly took a deep breath, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Ben was still in the kitchen and Mike down the hall in his room. Lowering her voice, she sighed, “You didn’t… You didn’t flirt with her, right? Because flirting with Sandy is not like flirting with me or Stan or Mike. You have to see that.”

He shifted on his bed, sitting up against the headboard, “My flirting isn’t real flirting unless it’s with Eddie.”

“Sandy won’t see it that way and if he finds out, neither will Eddie,” Beverly snapped, “Richie, he’s trusting you. Don’t fuck that up because you will never forgive yourself.”

“Bev, I’m not fucking anything up, okay? Jesus, ye of little faith,” Richie sighed, swallowing before saying carefully, “I know he’s trusting me. I’m not doing anything to compromise that. I swear, Beverly.”

“Then why did you call me? Why not Eddie?” Beverly asked, biting her lip.

Richie’s mouth fell open, eyebrows drawing together, “That’s not—“

Beverly sighed, “Richie, I love you and I always will but just… be careful, okay? And please, please, please call Eddie. Tell him you saw Sandy.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever, Bev,” Richie cocked his head to the side, “I love you too, by the way. Always will.”

“Bye, Trashmouth.”

“Talk to you later, Red.”

Hanging up, Richie rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at the phone. It had only been about four hours since he’d talked to Eddie but Beverly’s words gave him the itch to call again. Was it really that big a deal that he ran into Sandy? They’d dated five and a half years ago, Eddie couldn’t seriously be threatened by some girl from years back… right?

Shrugging, he picked up the phone again and dialed the number for his and Eddie’s apartment. It rang a few times before the machine picked it up.

You’ve reached—Richie! Stop it, I’m doing something!— You’ve reach Eddie and—

Richie!

And Richie, leave a message and we will call you back.

Or we won’t. Don’t get your hopes up too high.

BEEP

Smiling at the outgoing message they’d taken an hour to record when they’d first found their dinky little place in the Village, Richie sighed and said, “Hey, Eds, it’s me. I just— I don’t know, I guess I missed you. I miss you. Just, uh, give me a call back when you get home, okay? I’m skipping out on the partying tonight so don’t worry, I’ll be here. So, yeah, call me. Love you.”

Dropping back on the bed, Richie let his eyes drift close.

_______________________________________________________________________

Eddie rolled his shoulders, trying in vain to rid himself of some of the knots in his back. He’d been put on stock duty for his entire shift today and was expected back The Village Grocery at 6AM sharp the next morning.

He’d had to start picking up extra time here and there when he could, having to pay two months rent and bills with only his pay. He knew Richie would send money to help if he knew but Eddie also knew Richie needed the internship money for his own living conditions in Los Angeles. They’d discussed it before Richie left and this was just how it had to play out.

Dropping his duffle that he kept his ID and uniform in off at the laundry, Eddie made his way to the kitchen to start a late dinner, as it was already 8:30. Getting some water boiling, Eddie noticed the red light blinking on the answering machine. He reached over and hit the ‘playback’ button.

“Hey, Eddie, it’s Stan. Bill and I were wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner this weekend. Let us know either way, talk to you soon.”

Eddie glanced at the calendar hanging on the side of the fridge and sighed, seeing he was working from noon to midnight on both Saturday and Sunday.

The was another beep and then the next message began.

“Hey, Eds, it’s me.” Eddie stopped, his head whirling around to look at the machine, as if he would somehow find Richie standing there and not just his voice. “I just— I don’t know, I guess I missed you. I miss you. Just, uh, give me a call back when you get home, okay? I’m skipping out on the partying tonight so don’t worry, I’ll be here. So, yeah, call me. Love you.”

Grinning to himself, Eddie looked at the clock and quickly calculated the time difference. Nodding to himself, he picked up the phone and dialed the number hastily written on a sticky note on the counter. The phone rang once, twice, and then there was a click as the call connected.

“Who’s this?”

“That’s just about the rudest way to answer the phone,” Eddie teased, smiling in spite of himself.

“Eddie Spaghetti! My Love, you called me back.” Richie grinned as well nearly 3,000 miles away.

He nodded even though he knew it was pretty pointless over the phone, “You asked me to, so yeah. I did.”

“Aww, you love me!”

“Shut up! Why did you call? I'm not complaining or anything but we just talked on my break,” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“I just forgot to tell you something earlier and Beverly got all on my ass about it so I figured I’d just call you back. Get the added bonus of talking to you twice in one day.” Richie sighed, “How much longer?”

“Six weeks… That’s 42 days to be exact,” Eddie glanced over at the calendar again where each day had a small number in the bottom right side corner. The countdown… Shaking his head at himself, Eddie cleared his throat, “What’d you want to tell me?”

“Oh, right, that,” Richie sounded apprehensive and Eddie could almost see him in his mind’s eye, picking at his cuticles or drumming his fingers against his thigh. Richie was basically just a bundle of nervous ticks. “I just… I saw Sandy last week. At a club. Well, she kind of invited me to the club. Not me me, really but yeah. I didn’t get the big fucking deal but Bev made it sound like I deserved a big ass red A on my chest or something.”

Eddie fell back to lean against the counter, crossing his free arm over his chest, “S—Sandy?” He heard how strangled he sounded and quickly cleared his throat, “Sandy Montgomery?”

“Yeah, she went to UCLA, remember? She’s two years older us? Well, she’s got this gig out here at a club, booking bands and stuff. It’s almost exactly what she used to always talk about doing. She knew one of the other interns I work with so she invited all of us and yeah…”

“I didn’t know she went to UCLA… Have— have you, uh, seen her since then?” Eddie asked, his heart pounding in his throat. Sandy was in LA with his boyfriend. Out of all the girls Richie had dated before him, why did it have to be Sandy? Sandy with her gorgeous, curly brown hair that fell down her back and always had that one stupid braid tucked behind her ear, everyday woven with a different color of stupid ribbon? Sandy, who’s stupid bright green eyes were like sky diving into a lash rainforest? That Sandy?

Richie laughed, “No, I mean, now that I’ve been trained on more around the station I don’t have as much time for the club scene so haven’t been back. But, c’mon, Eds, even if I saw her again, you know it wouldn’t even be a thing, right?”

“She was the only long term relationship you had.” Eddie argued before he could stop himself.

He heard a long pause before Richie said, slowly, “Before you. I was fucking sixteen when it ended, Eddie. It was for-fucking-ever ago.”

Eddie nodded and in the logical parts of himself, he knew all of that. He knew it’d been almost five and a half years since Richie dated Sandy but…

He dated her for seven whole months. Almost all of Sophomore year… She was the only other person Eddie knew of that Richie had been in love with. He vividly remembered the day Richie had shown up at Bill’s house for movie night in Sophomore year and exclaimed to all of them that he was completely obsessed, in love, devoted. It had been one of the worst days of his life.

Sighing in an annoyed tone, Eddie snapped back, “You know there is, like, 4 million people in all of LA and you manage to find the one girl who lives there that you’ve fucked. I’m almost impressed.”

Richie groaned in Eddie ear, “Are you seriously going to be pissed at me about this?”

Eddie bit his lip, closing his eyes and counting down before shaking his head, “No, I’m not pissed! I— I trust you, it just sucks. All of it.”

Richie was quiet for a second and Eddie wished he could see him, could watch him and observe him. Richie spoke half the time in body language alone and there was only so much Eddie could picture in his head. Finally, he spoke, “Fucking sucks, for sure. I wouldn’t— I would never— You have to know— You know?”

Eddie’s heart clenched at the worried, fearful tone Richie’s voice had taken on. Even almost 3,000 miles apart, he knew exactly what his boyfriend was struggling to say.

I wouldn’t do that to you. I would never betray your trust. You have to know that I love you too much for that.

He nodded and said, “I know.”

“Good,” Richie sounded instantly relieved, “I’ll let you go but I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“Definitely,” Eddie smiled.

“Eds?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you, nothing’s gonna change that.”

“I know. Me too.”

_______________________________________________________________________

July 1997

Richie laughed and shook his head, reaching over to turn up the music on the stereo beside him to block out the noises coming from down the hall of Berkeley’s apartment where she and Donny had just disappeared.

A laugh rang out, as Sandy shook her head on the couch across the living room, “Berk’s a real class act, huh?”

“Donny said weed makes him horny but I didn’t believe him since he’s high, like, ninety percent of the time,” Richie shook his head, leaning against the wall. “God, they’ve probably fucked at work!”

“They’ve totally fucked at work,” Sandy nodded, laughing again at his expression, “And I’m not just saying that, Berkeley’s told me.”

Richie sighed, looking away. He had not planned to be spending one-on-one time with Sandy Montgomery that night. He’d thought he’d just be getting high over at Berk’s place with her and Donny after work. He hadn’t known Berk had invited Sandy or that Sandy had agreed. He couldn’t be blamed for just trying to be civil, talking to her. Eddie couldn’t get pissed about this, right?

Sandy turned to fully face him, quirking an eyebrow, “I don’t bite, Trashmouth.”

Before he could stop himself, Richie quipped, “From what I remember, that’s a lie.” He immediately cringed at himself. He just couldn’t fucking shut himself off, could he?

Sandy smirked, looking away and shaking her head at him, “What I mean is you can sit down, I won’t jump your bones,” Her eyes flickered back to him, shrugging, “Unless you want me to.”

Richie swallowed and shook his head, “San, I abso-fucking-lutely can not do that.”

“San? God! No one’s called me that in years!” She laughed, shaking her head, “But you always had to come up with your little nicknames, didn’t you, Rich?”

“It’s a gift and a curse,” He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets, “What have you been up to?” He changed the subject, remaining right where he was leaning against the wall.

Noting this, Sandy rolled her eyes, “Honestly, I’ve just been going to school and then working since we last saw each other. And doing this,” She gestured around to the loud stereo and unrolled weed on the coffee table, “Having fun.”

Richie nodded, “I’d fucking hope so. Because I can’t picture a version of Sandra Montgomery that doesn’t know how to have some fun.”

“You’re one to talk,” Sandy challenged.

He shrugged, “Fair enough.”

They fell silent and Richie almost wished that Donny and Berkeley were still going at it loud and proud just to give him something to laugh about. There was just an awkwardness instead. The awkwardness that probably always fell between two people who had once regularly seen each other naked and now hadn’t in years.

“Richie?” Sandy asked, standing up.

He looked at her, “Hmm?”

“Why didn’t you follow me to LA? Where were you three years ago?” She said, crossing her arms over her chest, “We said that was the plan, didn’t we? LA, once you graduated and we’d make it work, together. So, where were you?”

Richie stared at her before looking at his feet. He had said all that, hadn’t he? He’d almost forgotten, he’d never told anyone about that, not even Beverly or Eddie or Stan. But those were the promises of a boy, not who he was now.

He looked back up at her, “I was in New York. All us Losers go to school there. I’m at NYU.”

“Richie, I waited,” She exclaimed, frustration clear in her voice, “I waited two years for you to call or write or show up and you didn’t.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” He argued, shaking his head, ��I didn’t wait. I moved on.”

“Moved on?” She echoed, stepping forward, “But we both said—“

“I was sixteen, Sandy! Things have fucking changed since then and maybe I should have wrote or called but it wouldn’t have made any damn difference! We were over when you left,” Richie argued, standing up straight.

Sandy looked away, lips pursed, “You were supposed to follow me.”

“I couldn’t. I didn’t fucking want to anymore,” Richie shrugged, “Sorry for saying that, but it’s the truth. I applied to UCLA, I got in and I didn’t fucking want to go.”

“Why not?” Sandy yelled, “Forget about me, what about getting as fucking far away from Derry as possible? New York is like a three hour fucking drive from Derry! Why there?”

“Because of Eddie!” Richie yelled back before sighed and shaking his head, “Because Eddie was going to New York.”

“Eddie?” Sandy said, quieter, looking taken aback before nodding, “Eddie, of course.” She licked her lips and looked back at him, “So you finally figured that out, did you?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Richie gave her a look.

“He was crushed out on you even back when I was around. I thought you knew that,” Sandy cocked her head, “I used to think you’d spend time with him just to piss me off. Make me jealous.”

“What? No!” Richie looked confused, “He was my best friend, he still is, that’s why I spent time with him.”

Sandy hummed, “But I was still right back then, wasn’t I? He was more than just your best friend wasn’t he?”

“Not while we were dating, no,” Richie shook his head, “Why does everyone think I’m a fucking cheat?”

She laughed, lightly, “I don’t think you cheated on me. At least not on purpose. But you had feelings for Eddie when we were together, didn’t you?”

He looked at her, shrugging, “I’ve basically always had feelings for Eddie.”

“See?” Sandy gestured to him, “So, you could never give me everything.”

Richie took a moment to think that over before nodding. She was right, he supposed. When they’d dated, he’d tried so fucking hard to make her the center of his world. And he’d nearly succeeded. He’d been pretty convinced that he was really in love with her, that she was the only way for him to get over that annoying pull he’d felt to Eddie Kaspbrak since he was 13. That pull that he thought there was no way Eddie felt as well.

And when they’d ended, he had hurt, it had sucked but he had survived it. He’d gotten over it, moved on from it only to find that Eddie was still right there, in his chest and in his brain, infecting his thoughts and feelings, impossible to get over, never to be moved on from.

“We’re were good together,” Sandy spoke up and Richie turned to look at her, raising his eyebrows. She sighed and shook her head, pointing at him, “At least we never fought.”

“Yeah,” Richie shrugged, “It was fucking boring as hell.”

She rolled her eyes before she smiled at him weakly and kindly, “I’m glad you’re happy.”

Feeling a sudden, engulfing need to hear his boyfriend’s voice, Richie nodded, “Thanks. I should go. Good luck, San.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Riiiiing! Riiiiiing! Riiiiiiing!

Eddie gasped, eyes flying open as he jerked awake. Looking over at the phone on Richie’s bedside table, he saw the clock next to it read 4:27am. Groaning, he crawled over to Richie’s side and slowly raised the receiver to his ear, blearily slurring, “Hello?”

“Hey, baby,” A soft voice answered and his heart skipped a beat as he suddenly snapped awake.

“Richie? Why are you calling me at 4 in the morning?” He asked, annoyed despite the thrill in the pit of his stomach. He waited for Richie to say his usual dumb shit like phone sex or… Nope, late night calls were usually just about phone sex.

“Shit, sorry, I forgot the time difference, I just…Wanted to hear your voice. Talk to you.” He sounded weird and Eddie sat up against the headboard, trying to wake himself up more.

Eddie worried at his lip, “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Richie sighed, “I just really fucking wish I was home. Los Angeles is probably really fucking awesome but I’m getting to the point were I can’t even see the appeal, I just want to be with you. I always want to be with you.”

Shaking his head, Eddie half laughed, “Are you high?”

There was a beat of silence, “A touch, yes, but I still mean it. We’re right for each other. You’re fucking it for me, Eds. There’s never gonna be anyone else. Ever.”

“Richie, go to bed,” Eddie sighed, lightly smiling to himself.

“You’re thinkin’ the same way, right? That we’re it for each other? That this is it?” Richie asked, sounding very unlike himself. He needed this though, Eddie could tell, this reassurance and confirmation.

Eddie nodded, gripping the phone very tightly, “Of course, Trashmouth. This, you and me, we’re it.”

He listened as Richie took a deep breath, echoing, “We’re it.”

“Now, go to sleep, Rich.”

“Will do. I love the shit out of you.”

“Me too, Charmer. Take care of yourself and call me at a reasonable time tomorrow… later today, I guess.”

“As you wish, Eddie, my love.”

_______________________________________________________________________

“7 days,” Richie answered his phone.

He heard Eddie sighed, “I almost wish I hadn’t actually been the one calling, just to hear you sounding like a fucking idiot to someone who has no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Eds, you’re like the third person to call that I’ve answered that way,” Richie said, “It’s been an awkward day.”

Eddie laughed, shaking his head, “What’s going on there?”

“Same old, same old,” Richie shrugged, twirling a pen between his fingers, “I’m working on my mock-up for my last show on Friday.”

“I wish I could hear it, so do the others,” Eddie commented, twirling his fingers around the cord of the phone.

Richie laughed, “I’m glad you can’t, you’d be fucking pissed about some of the shit I’ve said about you on air.”

“Richie!”

“Kidding!”

There was a little, comfortable silence as Richie grinned, nearly seeing Eddie standing in their kitchen, rolling his eyes. After a second of just listening to his boyfriend’s soft breathing, Richie spoke up again, “They told me that if I moved back after graduation, I’d have a job.”

“Oh,” Eddie took a deep breath, “That’s— That’s—“

“I told them I got other plans but thanks,” Richie said, hearing Eddie’s choked voice.

Eddie groaned, “Richie, maybe you shouldn’t have—“

“Eds, LA isn’t where you want to be so it ain’t where I belong. I’ll go where ever you fucking want to go after graduation, New York, even Derry, if you want. I know you miss her, Eddie, even if you won’t admit it.”

Eddie felt his eyes burn and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He didn’t want to, he hated himself for it sometimes, but Richie was right… He missed his mother. They hadn’t spoken in two, going on three years. Since he’d gone home for Christmas break Freshman year and told her he was gay. That he was dating Richie Tozier.

She’d kicked him out. In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have told her on Christmas Eve. He’d driven the long drive back to New York, crying most of the time and ended up cuddling with Richie on the couch in the apartment Ben, Bev and Mike still shared since the dorms were closed for the holidays. He shouldn’t miss someone who did that to him… But he couldn’t help it. She was still his mother.

His nonresponse was all the answer Richie needed, though.

Richie nodded to himself, “Yeah, I thought so. My point is, I’ll be there, where ever you need me. No more bullshit like this two month apart shit-fest. My dick can’t take it, it’ll fall off or something.”

Eddie groaned, cover his face with his hand, “Dammit, Richard! Just when I think you’re being sweet, you make it about your dick again.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Richie stepped out of the passenger boarding bridge, looking around for a familiar face in the crowd as he walked forward.

“Richie!”

“Rich!”

“Richie!”

“Trashmouth!”

A chorus of voices called out for him from a few yards away and he turned to see all the Losers being lead by Eddie. He started towards his boyfriend, walking fast before they both broke into a run at the same time. Slamming together, Richie gripped Eddie so close it might have bruised but Eddie didn’t care, throwing his arms around Richie’s neck and holding him just as tight. Their lips crashed together almost painfully, but after two months without so much as a brush of lips, they didn’t dare let up.

After several moments, they were forced to come up for air, both loosening their grips but neither dropping their arms. Eddie ran his hands over Richie’s neck, brushing the hair at the nape of his neck, trailing down his shoulder and chest, eyeing him with dark eyes.

Glancing behind him to see the Losers standing back with exasperated looks, he got up of tip toe, pulling Richie close and whispering in his ear, “Just wait till I get you alone.”

Richie threw back his head with a groan of frustration before Eddie slipped out of his arms to allow the others their hugs. Beverly bounded up and Richie met her, lifting her right off her feet and spinning her around before setting her back on the ground.

“I missed you, Red.”

“Yeah, you too, Asshat.”

Mike hugged him next, squeezing his arm, “Good to have you back, Rich.”

Stanley hugged him and was quickly followed up by Bill, both giving him full grins.

Last, Ben clapped him on the back, “Fancy LA DJ now, huh?”

“Eh,” Richie shrugged, eyes flickering over to meet Eddie’s, “LA ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

Eddie’s face split into a smile and he bit his lip, not daring to drop Richie’s gaze.

#reddie #richie x eddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #bill denbrough #stan uris #minor ocs #sandy montgomery #berkeley wells #donny stills #it (2017)#it (2019)#it chapter one #it chapter two #fanfic #the losers of '89 were here

62 notes · View notes

illegiblewords · 4 years

Text

5 Questions for Writers!

5 Questions for Writers

I got tagged by @kunstpause, it looked like fun so figured I’d go for it! THANKS TO KUNST!

Tagging @wouldyouliketoseemymask, @nilim, @azwoodbomb, @peregrineroad, @frostmantle, @autumnslance, @strangefellows, @redbud-tree, @nozomikei, and @rivenroad. No obligation to anyone but full permission to steal granted to anyone else who might like to. I’ll literally be delighted if you pick this up spontaneously and blame me as an excuse lmao.

1. Do you have a favorite character to write? Who and why?

2. Do you have a favorite trope to write? Or one you want to write?

3. Share your favorite description you’ve written?

4. Share your favorite dialogue you’ve written?

5. Scene you haven’t written, but want to?

I made long answers so have a cut!

1. Do you have a favorite character to write? Who and why?

It depends heavily on what fandom and where I am mentally, but I’ve figured out I tend to love writing angsty lameass dudes with blonde hair who are prone to doing really silly things despite taking themselves entirely too seriously. Honestly, I have a pretty huge track record at this point. Harvey Dent, Vexen, Dmitri, Lahabrea, probably more besides. Every one of them fits the right balance of lameass to angst. I like seeing them grow and find fulfillment as people and they are very very cute while still having an edge of badassery and cleverness. Also they’re funny.

Lahabrea is my favorite at the moment, and him reaching that position is an accomplishment considering how stiff the competition is in FFXIV. Loser tricked his way to the top while I was busy laughing at him.

2. Do you have a favorite trope to write? Or one you want to write?

I really, really, really love redemption arcs and people recovering from fucked up experiences. Latter case especially I love seeing characters in those situations successfully connect to the people and world around them, especially if they get to grow together with a partner. I also LOVE “hero saves the villain and villain takes it to heart”.

(You may be sensing a theme here haha.)

There are a few reason these concepts resonate with me, the first being I think they’re really hopeful, inspiring, and something I always wanted to see growing up but rarely did.

People fuck up in life. People get hurt in horrible ways that bring out the worst in them. Sometimes when that happens they dig themselves deeper and deeper into ugliness. The more a person’s bad side comes out, the more hopeless it can feel. And for mental illness especially I’ve found this can be a major issue.

Everyone makes mistakes and everyone has flaws, but I think there’s something really significant in seeing someone who has hit rock bottom, who can no longer imagine a way out, get offered a hand for support and take it. While recovery and redemption (not synonymous of course) ultimately need to be carried by the individual struggling, I really can’t understate how important it is to know in those situations that you’re not alone and someone believes in you.

I think a big part of why this theme is important to me is because mental illness, both genetic and due to trauma, is something unbelievably difficult and painful not only for the sufferer but those around them. The most mentally ill characters in fiction tend to be villains, and are disproportionately more likely to be suffering severe trauma. It frustrated me since I was pretty young to see over and over again cases where a mess could have been avoided if there was any support system in place.

Seeing compassion and connection given that kind of power means a lot to me, as does recognizing that villains are people before they are villains. It’s also very reassuring in the sense of “If this person fucked up that badly but still tried to better themself, I can too. And odds are I’m also worthy of love and compassion, even when my issues make things harder for others. I just have to keep working to improve.”

3. Share your favorite description you’ve written?

Eff.

Straight up I think I’ve written too much to have just one favorite description. It’s been a lot of years and I have hundreds of fics and I’m lame. So I’m going to put a few of my favs.

Anytime there’s a gap in block quotes it’s a different section within the same fic.

22 - A Batman Fanfic

He trembles beneath the weight of their expectations but his smile never fades flashes before cameras microphones under his nose crowds screaming questions bleeding together he answers like clockwork the District Attorney who must bring justice to us all paying tribute to false idols with golden hair and silver tongues we the people bow down in worship to this guardian of the law with words and deeds I believe in Harvey Dent so he swears in hallowed halls to bring prosperity to smite the wicked to damn the criminal with authority invested in him by Gotham’s dutiful children and himself.

***

On the precipice of victory we stand united our voice raised like a torch like a spear like a golden arrow against the beast of Lerna we are gods and monsters we are so much more than good and evil we are order in the court cauterizing corruption our head held high and mighty manifest in Harvey of the doubletalk Harvey who writes himself into the fabric of Gotham’s history Harvey who will not bend before the Roman we command you the unworthy we condemn you the unrighteous we will not be merciful and you will fall before our eyes.

***

I am Dionysus divided at the altar of Tyche O Fortuna O Fortuna give me guidance in the light of the moon you dance sacred silver dollar I see and obey the wax and wane your whim Wheel of Fortune the card I am dealt your servant your slave venerated puppet of flesh blessed is your wisdom bestowed upon I am your disciple wine-mad twisted chanting your word becomes law holy splendor against gavels desecrating your name defiant in denial extend your will through me and we shall strike the innocent enlighten the ignorant or spare them all for now.

Doppelganger - A Spider-Man Fanfic

She asks him to tell the story of himself, and like Scheherazade he begins anew each day.

As with many other things, this comparison is imperfect. The Ravencroft Institute is hardly a palace and neither of them could pass for royalty. She sits in a chair across from him over a carpet the color of sawdust. Her walls are lined with insects pinned on display. Not many butterflies, quite a few beetles. On a bookshelf Dmitri sees The Metamorphosis nestled between non-fiction texts more relevant to her profession. He thinks maybe it's an inside joke she has with herself, but doesn't say so.

He's received an invitation to call her Ashley instead of Dr. Kafka and doesn't know whether to accept. It might be to make him more comfortable. It might be something else. In her late fifties Kafka is built from delicate features, and he suspects the lines around her eyes mean they crinkle when she smiles. Short black hair, beige suit, only jewelry a pair of diamond stud earrings. Dmitri thinks she looks like a mother, but not his.

Her weight sinks into leather, darker than the floor. The couch he rests on matches. He finds himself leaning forward with one elbow propped on his thigh, the other locked in a cast suspended by his neck. There is something reassuringly empty in the gray fabric of his uniform, cheap and utilitarian and harmless. Dmitri’s wrists are thin, but then he's lost a lot of weight recently. He probably wouldn't be able to run as fast as he used to, but then circumstances would be the same anywhere he went so that really doesn't matter. His espionage days are over. His free arm is shedding in flakes but at least his skin is dry. Clean.

Dmitri no longer looks like anyone, unrecognizable to himself. A face without much in the way of edges, short nose. Weak chin. Mismatched eyes that shift between green and blue and brown and every other natural hue as moments pass into minutes pass into hours. Dark blotches interrupt his forehead and chin. They will peel in new patterns across a span of days. For the most part though, he is pale enough to trace veins where his body seems on the brink of spilling out.

It's been a while since he shaved his head and the hair that grows back is almost foreign. An unruly mess of black, blond, brunet, and red—strands as unlike in texture as anything else. The mask that made him Chameleon was white plastic embedded with hardware. Left deformed after trying to resemble others in flesh too many times, it allowed him to duplicate any face, any body he could remember. More than holograms, the most complete sensory illusions technology could perform.

Without it, Dmitri feels stripped.

When Kafka looks at him she’s receiving constant signals and missing none of them. The moments he needs to turn away, flat monosyllabic turns of phrase he chooses or resorts to or blankly accepts as his own. It doesn’t have to be this way. It isn’t comfortable and he doesn’t even trust it’s not calculated. But she’s going to notice no matter what he does at this point, and lying about it doesn’t do anyone much good. They both know why he’s here.

***

“We were poor. We worked hard to keep ourselves fed and clothed and less than an embarrassment. I probably could have worked harder. Mother,” he begins before stumbling over himself.

The story he’s telling isn’t hers. Whatever else she was, Sonya Smerdyakov wasn’t Mrs. Bates. He remembers her voice as the beginning of an echo, forever following someone else’s lead.

And so he followed her.

She was bright like a light going out. She was gentle without being kind. Her fingers were short and delicate and she touched him as little as possible. He found her attention in the way she avoided his name.

***

In the privacy of his room, Dmitri began talking to himself.

Celebrities. Teachers. Children. The flat, steady rhythm of his father’s voice. The words and intonations favored by mother. Sergei’s laugh. He lost himself in a fantasy of conversations, strode through space to mimic confidence he didn’t feel, flashed teeth in front of his mirror like other people.

Once, Dmitri raised his voice. And when his older brother came, eyebrows knitting in confusion, he found himself full of stammered explanations, hands fumbling at his elbows, stumbling over his tongue to make sense of it.

Just making stories for himself. A game with no ending. That was all.

***

He would have died in that town under the eyes of speechless parents. Dmitri remembers the confusion that took his peers when he found a job for people who spoke for themselves. They thought he might be growing up.

He could lie. And when he began he understood it would always be a game with no ending.

Dmitri lost himself in a fantasy of conversations with real people and a voice that didn’t belong to him.

They asked a stranger to sign their yearbooks without even realizing it.

And then he was eighteen, and he left to continue elsewhere.

He didn’t announce his departure.

From Umbra - A Final Fantasy XIV Fanfic

It was probably a dream.

Lukewarm water crept down his throat, nearly making him choke. A skin pressed to his lips, insistent. He coughed, and for the first time there was moisture enough for resistance.

The face that obscured his vision was shrouded in white cloth. Cenric found he couldn’t focus on it. Mismatched eyes, one light and the other dark. Impossible to say if blindness caused the inconsistency.

A string of shells dangled from the figure’s neck, rattling gently. The skin pulled back for a moment. Careful. Patient.

It returned only once he'd grown quiet. Cenric drank for as long as he could. Impossibly, a great deal remained by the time he relinquished his hold.

There wasn't enough of him present to say thank you. Cenric barely registered being dragged, being carried onto a cart. Awareness was altogether gone by the time they started to move.

***

…to the blessed traders who enrich our lives we’re bound to pay with our lives in turn aether born fire-walker your will sees us to rest we entrust ourselves to your sight forged of oschon for peace and prosperity and an ending you do not weep for father azeyma lives in the earth with you her fan brings no breeze the air is hot and thick and breathless your domain a silent place that does not stir have you forgotten the sound of your own voice have you known what it is to live and fail have you been alone do you know what it is to die how can a god pass judgment without being judged nald’thal lord of departures of flame and sand whose coin purse overflows who knows not what it means to starve what it means to spoil the legacy of one who loved you nald’thal who holds shells and souls and precious stones as if their worth were equal nald’thal who cannot know mercy without knowing pain who are you to weigh mortal affairs?

***

In darkness he unwinds the black bandana, steps first from his slops and then his kurta. Yuyudana has provided robes, which rest neatly on a small rock nearby. It crosses Cenric’s mind that the bones of his knees, his hips, his wrists, even his face have all started to protrude strangely. He looks less hyuran than before, maybe less than he ever has. Closer to something priests would exorcise than anyone deserving aid.

He wonders if this idea has occurred to them.

The water, when he advances, is cold. Goosebumps raise across his skin as slowly, gingerly, he wades in to his waist.

Cenric ducks under.

His hair is a long and tangled wreck. Being wet only disguises this slightly. It drifts past his neck, comes to float near the surface. Cenric holds himself in silence, eyes open, watching the silver scatter of light over stones and plants and fish. He remains for as long as he can bear.

His vision stings afterward. Gasping, he can’t tell if the cause is exposure or something else. For a time he simply waits, breathing hard through his nose, hunched so that his lips are partially submerged.

He thinks of nothing, pretends that this time instead of no future he has no past.

Only one moon remains. Maybe the sky aches for losing Dalamud, but better that than the blow which scarred Eorzea.

Stalemate - A Final Fantasy XIV Fanfic

He is presented with impressions of a horse, gaunt and fetid and decayed. Spreading ruin wheresoever it goes. Occasionally it sloughs off portions of its own flesh, which collect flies and blacken any land that surrounds. On its back rests a world, and alongside it does the herd struggle under their own burdens. But even beasts of such endurance have limits. Theirs are reached. When the rotten steed lags, its companions cannot afford to falter. Cannot turn. Without its ability to bear loads, this aberration has no place. Falling is inevitable.

Yet a heart still beats and lungs yet swell.

The Ascian shivers in his grasp, but does not attempt escape.

Here, something festers. Something bleeds. An old wound exacerbated over time.

Fevered, coated in a film of self-disgust, the core of Lahabrea convulses.

Don’t…

Don’t leave me like this…

***

Teeth and tongue. Lingering, wet, disembodied. Another finds his hip. Another his thigh, slipping beneath what clothes remain.

And another.

Warm, human, seeking. The Warrior tightens his hold, uses the moan crawling from his own chest as incentive. Barred by naught but fabric, driving close as he can manage. Lahabrea makes a strangled sound, his gasp crushed empty. A new mouth finds the dark knight’s ear in response.

These are parts of him no one dares touch, no one dares acknowledge. Slick now, attended with something like reverence. Supplication.

He resolves to fuck the Ascian senseless for this, presses his intent deep into Lahabrea’s aether. He is going to steal all his fancy words away. Make him squirm.

“I… I…” Tight, airless, like a plucked string. The Warrior feels Lahabrea’s voice reverberate against the roof of his mouth.

The feeling is difficult to describe. Cracked ice. A fraying rope. Such is Lahabrea's response, fumbling and disoriented as it is.

The Warrior lets go.

4. Share your favorite dialogue you’ve written?

Just imagine me weeping over here lmao. Same deal as before, I’VE DONE TOO MUCH SHIT.

Spare Change - A Batman Fanfic

"Stop," he gasps, "I wouldn’t—"

"You would Harvey. You did. It’s what makes you such a damn good instrument. You had to test yourself, prove that you’re not a real person.” He can feel fingers grinding against bone. His knees bend. Harvey kneels, shuddering, gazing up into the destruction of his own visage. Two-Face meets his eyes, blue on blue. “People are weak. People are ruled by what they want and don’t want. You’re capable of anything if the wind blows just right. You can’t even stop yourself.”

"I wouldn’t," he repeats, numbly.

"Did you," demands Two-Face, forcing him down further, "or did you not flip for their lives, Harvey Dent?"

"We…We aren’t the same people anymore."

"Of COURSE we’re the same people!" Another shove and he’s on the ground, Two-Face sitting on his chest, teeth bared, coin clenched tight between them. "Do you really think you can close your eyes and pretend you aren’t capable of these things? They’re alive," and there is something hideous in his expression, something certain, "because they were lucky. No other reason.”

"The coin is gone! Even if I wanted to listen to it—I can’t!”

"If you’re so sure," says Two-Face, "then how about you improvise?”

And with one motion the silver dollar is under his tongue, forced back so hard he feels himself gag and begin to choke before his eyes open.

The Inquisitor’s Letters - A Dragon Age: Inquisition Fanfic

To His Worship Inquisitor Mahanon Lavellan of Skyhold, My name is Isell from Amaranthine and I’m seven. My mum is helping but says I can send you all by myself. Thank you for fixing the hole in the sky and also the one by the dead man’s house. There were demons but they’re mostly gone now and people are going outside now. Da says Amaranthine has been through too much and can survive anything and he says you’re an elf like us and the Hero of Ferelden was an elf too. He says people used to think elves can’t be heroes but now they don’t. Have you met the Hero of Ferelden? Also I heard that even though you’re Dalish Andraste helped you in the Fade and that humans let you be in the Chantry because anyone Andraste likes must be a really good person. What’s Andraste like? The Chant says a lot but it’s different meeting someone I think. Also I think I saw you a little before but Mum wasn’t sure because you had a helmet on and we were far away and there were a lot of people but I bet it was you. Da wasn’t sure I should write because he says the Dalish don’t like city elves like we are but I think you must be nice and Mum agrees with me. I’ve been playing demon hunters with my brother Arrion (he’s just five still) and Da said templars are who fights demons usually and elves can’t be templars. People thought elves couldn’t be heroes and inquisitors though and we are so I bet I could too. Is it hard fighting demons? Da says they’re real scary but I’m not scared. Thank you for helping us and everyone and I hope you kill lots of demons. Sincerely, Isell U’venlan

From Umbra - A Final Fantasy XIV Fanfic

Cenric sits on the floor, draped in a white cotton tunic. It might have been snug on a Roegadyn but anyone else would find ample room. Behind him, Memesu stands on a cot holding shears. Gold earrings dangle on either side of her face.

“I fought at Carteneau, you know,” she mentions casually. There is a soft hsssssshhhh. Click.

Hair hits the floor. Coils.

He starts to shake his head, aborts the gesture partway through. Stills. “…you saw Bahamut?”

Memesu snorts. “I’m sure everyone this side of Hydaelyn saw Bahamut.” Click.

“That’s probably true,” he concedes. The dragon is what everyone knows, everyone remembers. He can't imagine the proximity. “What about the Warriors of Light?”

“Pff.” Gentle tugging at his scalp. Cenric does not open his eyes but leans into the motion. “I wasn’t of rank to see their like. Not that I’d remember. Stop moving.” Click.

Cenric hesitates.

“What do you remember, then?”

For a time, the only sound comes from blades and a thousand strands cut short. This lasts for several minutes. Cenric resigns himself to secrets.

Then, “I used to think I was special too. As a twin. My sister was Memeni. We studied together.”

Was.

The exhale hits him slowly, quietly.

“She died?”

He can feel the shrug in her hip against his shoulder.

“It was Carteneau,” says Memesu. “Of course she died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Click. “It had nothing too do with you. If you keep trying to claim responsibility for every misfortune you find, you’re going to get self-important.”

Cenric only grunts, quiet and non-committal.

Click.

“Carteneu was so much worse than people remember. Only four years later and already we hurry to dispose of details.” There is a hard undercurrent to Memesu’s voice, but what contact she makes remains light. Careful. “I remember the arcanist from Limsa who didn’t dodge a magitek canon in time. Miqo’te. Spells come faster in that discipline, so there’s less stress on distance than thaumaturgy. Girl got careless.” Click. “The mess smelled like rotten eggs and charcoal. Her face was… melted.” Click. “I try not to look in those situations. They only make casting harder. But she was so close.”

Cenric doesn’t move. Doesn’t say a word.

Memesu continues. “One of our own gladiators, an Ala Mhigan, took to mutilating any pureblooded Garleans he could catch. The man had a string of eyes hanging around his neck. I’m pretty sure one enemy officer wet himself before he started to beg. Not that it particularly mattered.”

Click.

“Memeni… didn’t anticipate what she was getting herself into. She saw magic as a way of being useful to craftsmen. My focus has always been theoretical. Right side.” Startled, Cenric lets her guide his jaw to get a better view of his profile. Click. Click. “Meni used to think I was a priss. She preferred to develop magitek kettles alongside alchemists. See if she could find a way to capture light like the Mhachi did. She still enjoyed fishing when she could, even though it smelled awful. Never outgrew the braids she wore growing up. ” Memesu sighs. “…just understand she died afraid, in pain, and with things left undone. My sister didn’t even resemble herself at the end.”

Cenric is very still. Thinks carefully.

“…I wish it could have gone differently,” he says at last.

Memesu’s mouth slides up in a small, crooked smile. She tousles the neat, ear-length hair before her. “So do I.”

Eclipse - A Final Fantasy XIV Fanfic

It ends at Elidibus’ untimely arrival.

“Lord Zodiark,” he says, so smoothly that were he not searching for it that the anger would be undetectable, “appreciates your attentions.” His gaze does not waver from Lahabrea as he speaks. “But there is work to be done and I’m afraid there are words I would have with your Speaker.”

They disperse.

Nabriales, careful and curious, folds himself out of sight beyond the chamber then makes his way back to its edge.

Lahabrea, farthest from the exit, attempts to steal some small dignity. Turns to face Elidibus.

The Emissary makes him wait. Expressionless red masks matched by those who wear them.

Then, with more speed and force than typical for his demeanor, the Emissary closes distance to trap his colleague against the wall.

“It was my error,” hisses Elidibus, leaning in, “to have stayed silent upon rescuing you. A mistake I will remedy now, so we can be on no uncertain terms.”

Lahabrea lowers his eyes. Nabriales notes that despite the dread they all share of such reprimands, the man does not brace.

“You know as well as I that these words offer less succor to our Lord than action,” continues Elidibus, his fury quiet and no less sharp for that, “just as we both know your thoughtless action is the cause of repeated missteps these past centuries. Make no mistake—for all the strides you’ve made, your fixation and your impatience have cost the rest of us considerable time.”

Silence.

“Do you truly think this is your best service to Him?” asks Elidibus. “To us? Compromising your ability to fill the hours? Even Emet-Selch agrees these displays are disgraceful. You have ever borne them poorly, but being a 'paragon among paragons' naturally you continue ignoring your own better judgment with ours to continue this exercise in futility. Idiot.”

A twitch of the head. Almost a flinch.

It is one of few moments Nabriales has seen the Emissary express his anger so openly. Even after the Thirteenth fell to Igeyorhm’s error, Elidibus allowed the Angel of Truth to lead and voiced his own reproach with a more typical icy demeanor. Scathing though it was.

“I can be of use,” says Lahabrea softly. “Only three of us remain, and I—“

“You,” Elidibus snaps, “cannot follow the most simple instructions for the good of us all. Not for Him, not for Amaurot, not even for yourself. Your pride has made you not simply an embarrassment but a liability.”

Neither man speaks for several moments after that.

And then, at length, Elidibus exhales.

Says the Speaker’s name.

Receives his attention.

“What would you have me do?” the Emissary asks. His tone now is almost weary. “Clearly it would be unreasonable to trust you’d simply listen. Must I mind you like a child?” This is what breaks Lahabrea’s composure.

Knowing the man’s temper, Nabriales had expected him to lash out. Even on the back foot their orator is perfectly capable of defending himself from insults.

Instead, he embraces Elidibus fiercely—face just within the bounds of his pauldrons. Jaw locked shut firmly enough to hurt. Expression downcast.

Elidibus remains perfectly still at first. In the absence of conversation it is possible to hear the rush of Lahabrea’s breathing. Only through the nose, withheld briefly between each inhale as if that offers some means to steady himself.

As if that would make it better.

Tentatively, Elidibus holds him back. Lahabrea's fingers contract, and though he remains upright when his knees begin to give it is the Emissary who helps him kneel.

“Easy,” he murmurs, and Lahabrea removes one hand to run it reflexively over his face—coming against the mask.

Nabriales finds himself staring, searching. A puzzle with missing pieces whose image he may yet divine

“It was not,” says Lahabrea roughly, “my intention to…”

Elidibus reaches beneath the other man’s cowl, finds the hair and skin beneath. Draws him in once more.

Naught that would be shared with or among the Sundered. Nothing so personal as that.

Nabriales has worn his own share of flesh. Bedded lovers, adopted companions and families of vessels to fulfill a purpose. Passable enough, perhaps, but never for him. Not in truth.

It’s as if he looks upon two strangers.

Parched - A Final Fantasy XIV Fanfic

The door closes behind them. Lahabrea, projecting his preferred likeness over the host, waits on a couch within.

It’s admittedly a surreal sight. Ishgardian finery with its gilded edges, its elaborate wallpapers and marble floors. A collection of creams and blues and greens, fine furniture with velvet seat cushions. All ostentatious in the extreme… and then Lahabrea. Masked and cowled. Pouring three glasses of La Noscean arrack.

Elidibus freezes, and though none of them can see his eyes the confusion is clear enough.

“What is this?”

“Your turn,” says Emet-Selch, lightly but less flippant than he might have been.

Lahabrea proffers a cup from where he sits.

Elidibus neither moves nor speaks.

Emet-Selch approaches. Takes the drink. Presses it carefully into the other man’s hand.

“Don’t think,” he says smoothly,” that I won’t let you drop it.”

Mercifully, Elidibus has a good grip.

“Sit,” says Lahabrea, gesturing with his own glass to the sofa across from him.

Elidibus sits.

Emet-Selch sits.

Takes his own glass, perhaps a bit pointedly.

Elidibus’ mouth is pressed tight. It opens briefly, as if to speak. Shuts again.

“Explain,” the Emissary manages eventually.

Lahabrea meets his co-conspirator’s eye. Downs his arrack in a single attempt.

It is a long attempt.

It lasts several moments.

The other Ascians watch.

“Elidibus,” says Emet-Selch as Lahabrea endeavors to catch his breath in the aftermath, “Lahabrea and I are concerned that you may be experiencing some difficulties in recent years.”

“I’m fine,” replies Elidibus coldly. Holding his drink. “Why did you think this necessary?”

“Because—“ wheezes Lahabrea.

“Because you’re practically a mammet,” says Emet-Selch, picking up Lahabrea’s glass. Moving it just out of reach. “Truly. It’s been what, two hundred years? Three? Neither of us can remember the last time you so much as spoke of matters unrelated to the Rejoining.”

Lahabrea reaches. Elidibus pours his arrack into the other man’s glass before nudging it back toward him.

Elidibus makes eye contact with Emet-Selch.

“I remain focused,” he says evenly. “Nothing more.”

Emet-Selch gestures to the bottle.

Elidibus sighs.

Refills his own glass.

“There are matters I must attend myself. As is the case with each of you.”

“Undoubtedly,” replies Lahabrea more evenly. “But with few exceptions, you haven’t done so.”

A hard stare from behind the mask.

“What would you have me do? I can’t very well take time off.”

Emet-Selch sips.

“A negligible amount of time,” he says, “taken sparingly, may be forgivable.”

5. Scene you haven’t written, but want to?

Lmao see this is a plus side/minus side deal. Minus side, it’s being asked just before I embark on a MASSIVE ASS FANFIC. And I basically am excited for all of it. Plus side, there are things I refuse to spoil.

So... putting it vaguely, in no particular order:

- Lahabrea and Hydaelyn meet a second time after Praetorium.

- Moonfire Faire

- Thancred

- Conversations over mulled wine

- Silvertear Lake

Some of these are sex scenes. Most aren’t. But I am very hyped.

7 notes · View notes

hollymartinswrites · 5 years

Link

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: IT - Stephen King, IT (Movies - Muschietti) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh Characters: Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier, Ben Hanscom, Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough, Mike Hanlon, Original Child Character(s) Additional Tags: Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Domestic, Light Angst, Family Feels, Childhood Trauma, Adoption, Kid Fic, Adopted Children, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Marriage, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier Are Parents, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Minor Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier Are Best Friends Summary:

Eddie and Richie embark on the most terrifying experience of all—parenthood.

Or, the author desperately needed a domestic, family fix-it for Richie and Eddie.

Chapter II: A look into Richie and Beverly's friendship as parenthood is thrown into the mix.

“How many godfathers can one kid have?”

“Richie, we’re agnostic.”

“Hey, I believe in God, I just don’t trust organized religion,” Richie replied, hanging the framed Princess Leia poster before stepping back to observe it. “Or any organizations, now that I think about it.”

“It’s crooked. Move it to the right like an inch,” Eddie said. “And she doesn’t need godparents.”

“Course she does,” Richie said, maneuvering the frame slowly as if it were a tempermental bomb. “I mean, obviously Bev will be godmother and I guess that means Ben should be godfather but we can’t play favorites with the guys like that.”

“Did you have godparents? And it’s straight now, quit messing with it.”

“Yeah,” Richie said. “My great uncle Jim and my mom’s cousin Valerie. I’ve told you about her before. She took me to my first Pride when I was twenty because surprise, she was a lesbian and no one knew. Even though she and her roommate Laura shared a one bedroom apartment in New York.”

Eddie laughed and shook his head.

“I’d pay money to see you at Pride as some lanky, awkward kid,” he said.

“Oh man,” Richie said, grinning, “I was such a twink back then.”

“And what the hell are you now?”

Richie shrugged.

“I don’t know. Sloppy otter? Is that still a thing?”

“You’re asking the wrong guy,” Eddie said. He gazed around the room and his smile widened. “I gotta say, this is a pretty awesome kid’s room.”

“Hell yeah it is,” Richie replied, stepping beside his husband and putting his arm around his shoulders. “She’s gonna love it.”

They were both silent for several long moments, content to simply be in one another’s presence in their child’s room when Richie squeezed Eddie’s shoulder.

“I can’t believe it’s finally happening,” he admitted softly.

“I know,” Eddie agreed. “You’re gonna be a good dad.”

Richie colored briefly before gently hip-checking Eddie.

“So are you,” he said.

Eddie merely smiled.

Richie picked up the phone on the second ring.

“Bev!” he shouted.

“Richie!” she shouted back, laughing. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know, exhausted, covered in glitter, and haven’t showered in days,” he replied. Lydia lifted up her latest drawing and he gave her a thumbs up. She grinned and grabbed another piece of construction paper. “So just like college all over again.”

Bev laughed.

“I wish we went to college together,” she said wistfully.

“Oh, we’d be expelled instantly if some university was stupid enough to accept both of us,” he said. “So what’s going on?”

“Well, I finally had time to sit and watch all the videos you sent yesterday,” she answered. “And I have to say, Lydia is the sweetest, smartest, cutest kid I’ve ever seen.”

“Aw,” Richie said. He moved the phone away from his mouth and loudly whispered, “Lyds, my friend Bev thinks you’re cute and smart and sweet.”

“Who’s Bev?” Lydia asked.

“My friend, you’ll meet her soon.” Richie returned the phone to his ear. “When are you and Ben coming by?”

“Soon, I hope,” she said. “Ben’s finishing up a big project but this summer should be free and clear. What about the other Losers?”

“I don’t know, I want to do a BBQ with all of you so you can meet Lydia at the same time,” he said.

“I don’t like BBQ,” Lydia pointed out. “I like macaroni and cheese.”

“I’ll make macaroni and cheese, I promise,” Richie said.

“You cook now?” Bev asked.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he shot back. “I had been surviving on my own for twenty years, thank you.”

“I just can’t believe you’re a dad now,” Bev sighed wistfully.

“Well, you better believe it because I lost the receipt so this kid is nonrefundable,” he said, reaching out and tussling her hair, causing her to playfully bat away his hand.

Bev laughed.

“You sound happy, you know that?” she said.

Richie blinked. He hadn’t really thought about it but he supposed he was. A warm wave filled his chest.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Am I making Trashmouth emotional?”

“No way,” he insisted. “I never get emotional and I definitely did not cry when we watched Moana the other night.”

“Yes, you did, Papa!”

“Shh!”

Bev laughed again and Richie grinned.

“Don’t worry, Ben cries at everything so your secret is safe with me,” she said. “I’m going to talk to him tonight about vacation days. You have to let us know when you’re free, though.”

“We’ll make it work, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, but I know Eddie’s always busy at work and you two are the ones with a kid.”

“We’ll make it work,” Richie repeated.

“I feel kinda bad though,” Bev admitted. “Won’t Lydia be overwhelmed by a welcome party filled with grown-ups?”

Richie blinked again. He hadn’t thought about that. He glanced at his daughter, happily tracing her hand on a piece of pink paper and swallowed.

“She has some friends from her school,” he said slowly. “I can invite them for her.”

“I just don’t want her bored or frightened,” Bev continued. “I remember the few times my dad took me to see family, I was the only kid. I hated it. Everyone talking over you and then yelling if you dared to look bored.”

Richie swallowed again and looked down at the table. He had always hated it when Bev spoke of her father but he was smart enough to know to shut up and listen.

“Anyway,” she said brightly, “I just want her to have fun.”

“She will. We’ll make it fun.”

“And Ben and I already got her a bunch of presents.”

“Oh no,” he groaned. “We specifically said no presents.” Lydia’s head immediately shot up, eyes wide and bright. “She’s spoiled enough as it is.” Lydia shook her head fervently.

“And send us her size, I saw some super cute clothes the other day,” Bev continued.

“Bev, no—”

“Yes, Richie,” she insisted. “I love you but I’m ignoring you.”

“Bev, I swear—”

“I gotta go,” she said quickly. “I love you, Trashmouth.”

Richie sighed but smiled warmly.

“I love you, too,” he replied gently.

“And I love Lydia even without meeting her yet.”

Richie’s heart did something intense, and it knocked the breath out of him.

“Richie?”

“Yeah, no, thanks, Bev,” he said quickly.

“Alright,” she said, laughter in her voice. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Bye.”

Richie placed his phone on the table and tried to gather his thoughts. It was harder than usual.

“Look at this one, Papa,” Lydia announced, lifting another colorful and glittery drawing. A large percentage of said glitter slipped off and fell onto the table. “Oops.”

“That’s a beaut,” he said and sniffed. “My friend Bev said she loves you.”

“That’s nice,” Lydia replied. “And she bought me presents?”

“Yeah, but you don’t need anything.”

“But maybe she got me something I don’t have,” Lydia pointed out.

“Airtight logic, as usual, kiddo,” Richie admitted.

Lydia smiled and clapped her hands together in an attempt to clear them of glitter, frowning when it did nothing.

“I think we gotta hose you down,” Richie observed. He glanced at the clock. “And soon, before your dad walks in and has a conniption.”

“What’s a conniption?”

“It’s what happens when your dad comes home and sees what a mess your papa has made,” Richie answered, standing. “Come on, let’s get you and all of this cleaned up.”

Richie finished loading the dishwasher, closed it, set it, and immediately sat down in the closest chair, suddenly exhausted. He barely flinched when he felt arms curl around his shoulders and a chin rest on the top of his head.

“You okay, buddy?” Bev asked gently.

“Yeah, just tired,” he replied. “Too much excitement for one day.”

Bev nodded and leaned down to place a kiss on his head.

“You sure you’re good?” she asked again.

“Yeah, but just...can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Can you tell me if my hair is thinning up there?”

Bev laughed and flicked his ear.

“No, it’s as thick and messy as ever,” she replied. “But you do still have a fivehead.”

“Shut up.”

Bev squeezed his shoulders and then sat in the empty chair closest to him. A golden glow from the setting sun streamed through the open windows, and they could hear the rest of the party—Losers catching up and laughing and children shrieking with delight at whatever delighted five-year-olds—but it was mercifully quiet in the kitchen.

“I’m glad you invited her friends,” Bev said. “She needed some people her age to counterbalance all of us boring grown-ups.”

Richie nodded.

“Yeah, but she had fun with you and Ben earlier,” he said. “I guess she’s used to being the only kid around with just me and Eddie.”

“Do you think you guys will adopt again?”

Richie swallowed and shrugged.

“I don’t know, I mean, we’re still getting the hang of having just one kid,” he sighed. “But I wouldn’t want her to be an only child. They’re kinda weird, no offense.”

Bev laughed.

“They’re also lonely,” she pointed out, “so I wouldn’t recommend it for her, either.”

Richie felt compelled to hug her but settled for taking one of her hands in both of his, resting them on the table. They were both silent for a long moment, and he tried to ignore the fact that Bev was gazing at him expectantly before he cleared his throat.

“Bev, I…I’m scared.”

She quirked her head to the side and gazed at Richie with mild confusion on her face.

“Scared of what, Rich?”

“Fucking everything,” he admitted, not meeting her eyes. “What if I’m in over my head?”

Bev squeezed his hands.

“I’m not a parent,” she offered gently, “but I think that’s a common side effect.”

Richie sighed and shook his head.

“And you’re not doing this alone,” Bev continued, reaching out with her free hand to brush a strand of hair behind his ear. “You’ve got Eddie. The two of you are doing a great job. You can tell just by looking at Lydia.”

Richie’s chest tightened.

“Lydia’s amazing,” he admitted. “But she was amazing when we adopted her.”

“Rich—”

“And Eddie...” he swallowed and looked up at Bev, “I’m scared I forced him into something he didn’t want.”

Bev appeared genuinely shocked.

“Richie, that’s impossible,” she insisted.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think for even one second Eddie would move across the country and endure years of all that bureaucratic bullshit and constant, needling, in-depth assessments from social workers for something he didn’t want?”

Richie swallowed and looked down again.

“He loves you,” Bev said gently, leaning in closer to her friend, “but he doesn’t love you that much.”

That startled a laugh out of Richie. He wiped at his nose and sniffed. Bev used her free hand to wipe at his face.

“You’re just tired,” she observed. “Tired and overwhelmed at having all of us here and showing off Lydia.”

“Hey, do you guys have any...what’s going on?”

They both looked up. Ben was standing in the doorway looking not unlike a deer caught in the headlights.

“Nothing, nothing,” Bev said quickly.

“Yeah, nothing, just your girlfriend bullying me about my forehead, that’s all,” Richie replied. Ben smiled but he still looked unconvinced. Richie continued, “You need something, dude?”

“Oh, yeah, just wanted to grab a drink,” Ben said.

Richie motioned towards the fridge and Ben opened it, reached in, and pulled out a juicebox. He glanced down at it in his hand and then smirked at Richie, his eyebrows raised.

“Hey, don’t knock it, mix that with a little vodka, fucking delicious,” Richie insisted. “That’s how I get through Lydia’s gymnastics classes.”

Bev smirked and slapped him lightly on the knee, earning a yelp from Richie. Ben shook his head, still smiling, closed the fridge door, and immediately pushed the straw through the top of the juicebox and sipped.

“Hmm,” he said after a few moments’ consideration, “not bad, actually.”

“See?” Richie replied. “There are some benefits to having a kid.” Ben sat at the table beside him and affectionately patted him on the shoulder. Richie glanced at him and bit the bullet. “So, not to sound totally straight, but are you guys thinking about having kids?”

Ben’s eyes widened and his lips tightened around the straw. Bev rolled her eyes.

“We don’t know, Rich,” she said gently. “Though we are running out of time.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m well over forty.”

“We’re all well over forty.”

Bev gave him a pointed look and realization washed over Richie’s face.

“Oh, yeah,” Richie muttered. “Who gives a shit? I read about a woman in India who had a baby at seventy.”

“I don’t plan on going for that,” Bev laughed.

“Besides, you and Eddie have inspired us to at least look into adoption,” Ben replied.

“Oh yeah?” Richie said. “Nice. Well, if you need advice, talk to Eddie. I’m a mess.”

“Richie…”

“I’m serious,” he insisted. “I know we only got approval because of him.”

“Come on, that’s not—”

“It is true. I mean, who would you let raise a kid? A shitty and foul-mouthed comic with crazy hours and a drinking problem he only just got under control or the responsible, completely organized nerd in polo shirts?”

Ben and Bev were both silent and Richie realized he had, once again, gone too far. He racked his mind to rectify the situation—a joke, an impression, a scream, anything—when he was saved by the backdoor opening and Eddie appearing in the doorway.

“Hey, Lydia’s friends are getting picked up,” he said. “You wanna come say goodbye with me?”

Richie stood.

“Sorry, folks, parenting duty calls,” he said casually and offered a lop-sided grin before leaving Ben and Bev in the kitchen.

He’s late.

What time is it by you?

7:32.

Well, didn’t he say he had a dinner meeting?

Yeah, at 5. wtf

I’m sure he’s just sitting in traffic. He’ll be home soon. Don’t worry.

I’m not worried. I’m fucking pissed.

He can’t help it if work is crazy, sweetheart.

He could’ve called out. I’m by myself over here, neck deep in snotty tissues and crying kids.

Richie glanced up from his phone at the sound of keys in the front door. Fucking finally, he thought. The door opened and closed and it seemed to Richie that Eddie purposely took a long time to get from the foyer to the living room, where he was sitting on the couch with Lydia’s feet in his lap and their youngest curled up against his side, drooling onto his shirt. They were still passed out, mercifully.

Eddie walked into the living room and quietly stepped up to the couch.

“Hey,” he whispered. “How are the girls?”

“Lydia’s fever broke,” Richie sighed, “but I think it’s going into her chest. She keeps coughing. And Tess is just congested and keeps puking up the medicine so that’s been fun.”

“She hasn’t kept any of the medicine down?”

Richie shook his head and shoved his fingers beneath his glasses, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Fuck, we gotta get her to take it,” Eddie said.

“No shit,” Richie snapped. He tensed when Lydia stretched in her sleep but she remained asleep.

“I read about another brand online today,” Eddie said, leaning down to run his fingers through Tess’s dark hair. “Supposedly it doesn’t have any of that artificial flavoring shit. That’s probably what’s making her sick.”

Richie shrugged, too exhausted to even comment. Eddie glanced at him, raising an eyebrow before continuing, “I’ll pick some up on the way home tomorrow.”

Richie’s head shot up and he stared at Eddie, stunned.

“You’re going into work tomorrow?” he asked dumbly.

“I gotta, but just for half a day. I’ll be home early.”

“Like you were today?”

Eddie straightened and shook his head.

“I’m too tired for this right now,” he sighed.

Richie’s eyes widened. For a moment, he couldn’t see straight.

“You’re too tired?” he repeated, his voice strained.

Lydia moved again, sighing in her sleep before being rattled awake by a violent cough. Richie and Eddie both reached for the glass of water on the coffee table, but Lydia got to it first before immediately gulping down half of it.

“Easy, kiddo,” Eddie murmured, taking the glass from her when was done. “How are you feeling?”

Lydia answered by coughing again, covering her mouth with her arm like her dad had showed her. Tears sprang to her eyes and her nose began running. Richie handed her the tissue box and ran his fingers through her unruly curls.

“My throat won’t stop tickling,” she finally gasped out.

“Your sinuses are draining, that’s probably it,” Eddie said before reaching towards his briefcase he had left on the floor. He opened it and brought out a bag of cough drops. “I made sure to get the lemon ones.” He unwrapped and handed her one, and she immediately popped it in her mouth before settling back down on the couch.

Richie glanced over at Tess. She hadn’t even stirred from the commotion. He was also quite sure some of the drool on his shirt was snot, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Look, you’re home now, I’m gonna go take a shower, okay?” he said, gently moving Lydia’s feet off his lap and placing a pillow beside Tess. Without waiting for an answer, he hurried to the bedroom, leaving Eddie staring after his retreating back.

Richie, admittedly, took a particularly long shower but he felt he deserved it. A full day and a half of battling germs, miserable kids, and the occasional pukefest could wear a man out. Eddie’s extra-early alarm this morning certainly didn’t help, nor did his apparent reluctance to pick up the phone. Richie allowed himself one bang against the shower wall with his fist before concentrating on his breathing and allowing the warm water to undo the tension in his body. Fuck, he was tired.

Turning off the shower, he gingerly stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist before heading into the bedroom, where Eddie was waiting for him.

“You talk to Bev about what a shitty husband I am?” he said in an oddly calm voice.

Richie blinked. Then he noticed his cell phone in Eddie’s hand. Shit. Deflect, Tozier.

“You went through my phone?” he shot back. “And you left the girls alone?”

“Tess is still asleep and Lydia is watching TV,” Eddie answered and took a step towards Richie. “And your phone went off with a text from Bev that had my name in it. Of course I fucking looked, you’d do the same.”

Richie frowned. Eddie, was usual, was right.

“Bev and I talk all the time,” he said, brushing past him to their bureau and began searching for pajamas. “You know that.”

“Yeah, but—”

“And you talk to her and the guys,” Richie continued. “What’s the fucking difference?”

“I don’t bitch and moan about you to them.”

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t share private things with them.”

Richie whirled around, which was a bit difficult considering he was still stepping into his pajama pants. “Private things?” he repeated. “You being late on a day where I really fucking needed you isn’t exactly intimate information. What’s the big deal?”

Eddie swallowed and shook his head.

“Well, I don’t like it,” he admitted.

Richie huffed a laugh.

“I don’t like that you care more about work than your family but we all got our crosses to bear, right?” he snapped. “So forgive me for letting off a little steam to someone who actually cares.”

Eddie stared at him, his eyes wide and impossibly bright. Richie looked away, grabbed the first t-shirt he could find in the bureau and put it on.

“I’m gonna go sit with the kids,” he muttered. “Text Bev back for me and tell her everything’s fucking fine.”

He felt Eddie’s eyes on him as he stalked out of the bedroom and tried his best to school his face when he approached the couch but by the sidelong glance his daughter gave him, he knew he had done a poor job of it.

#reddie #it chapter 2 #reddie fanfic #richie tozier #Eddie Kaspbrak #beverly marsh

27 notes · View notes

fanfic-scribbles · 5 years

Text

Let’s Be Alone Together

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: You get two new neighbors and the three of you become something more.

Quick facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes/Reader – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Long [sob], fluff, swearing, timeskips, for a brief moment Reader is implied to not necessarily be straight, Reader is a sore loser

Words: 9940

Special Note: Written for @barnesrogersvstheworld “Shot Through the Heart” 3k Challenge for the dialogue prompt: “I’m having some problems right now and I’d really like to be alone.” // “Well, I’ll be alone with you.”

A/N: This fucking story is Exhibit A in why I wish I didn’t handwrite everything first, oy vey. First: I’m very sorry for the length. It just…happened. If you’re using the Tumblr app and it crashes half as much as mine does, I also have this story posted on AO3 under the username relic_amaranth. Also, because Tumblr likes to fuck up my formatting when it comes to line breaks, ~ is in place of those timeskips that aren’t too long (hours/days) and the solid lines are for time-jumps that are a week or more. Time is left purposefully vague to better suit the reader viewpoint. It is long for something without chapters, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Congrats again to @barnesrogersvstheworld for hitting 3k; their stuff is wonderful and their challenges are always good fun.

You keep to yourself. You stay out of other peoples’ business. It’s respectful, you reason, and not just due to the fact that you’d rather be left alone. …Though that’s a factor. ‘Do unto others,’ ‘treat others,’ and all that jazz.

However you do get curious when, in the hall on the way to your unit at the end, you see moving boxes stacked next to your only neighbor’s door. And who wouldn’t be curious– whoever lives there has the power to make your life a living hell and it has been blissfully empty for over a month. Unfortunately a glance in the open door reveals no one and you can’t think of a good reason to linger, so you go to your own apartment. You’ll see them around eventually.

And you do. There are two of them– Steve and James. They’re a cute couple, quiet (thank goodness), and seemingly friendly. Seemingly, because you keep just missing them, and they, you. If you’re going out then they’re coming in, and vice versa. You only know their names because you overheard them introducing themselves to someone else. You doubt they even know yours. It doesn’t really matter– they seem nice and happy and they keep to themselves and you have no complaints. As far as neighbors go, they’re five-star quality.

It’s funny, though, because after a while it becomes obvious that they’re actively trying to meet you properly (well, Steve is,) but keep getting thwarted by circumstance.

Like one time when you’re getting your mail, Steve is down there getting his, but just as he opens his mouth to talk to you, someone else greets him and then starts chatting him up. You wait politely for a handful of seconds before you realize no tool short of a crowbar is going to pull that little old lady off of him, and you slip away as Steve shoots you an apologetic smile.

At another point you pass by James in the hallway. He’s in PJ pants, a hoodie, and gloves, and hesitates with his door already open. You’re not in any real hurry so you pause. He only gets to inhale when his phone starts ringing. Loudly. He huffs in annoyance. You give him a little wave, he nods, and you both go about your business.

The next time you see them you’re on your cell and rushing out of your apartment due to a work emergency.

The time after that you’re coming home and they're speeding out– walking, but doing it so intently it looks like they’re barely keeping themselves from sprinting. That proves true when they hit the stairwell and you hear them race down the stairs as they start to beat feet.

It’s okay. Introducing yourself to your neighbors is always hit-or-miss anyways– some people do and some people don’t and you don’t mind either way. So as far as you care, it’s a wash.

Your new neighbors are stubborn, though. One night you come home late, drained by an early start and too much overtime after, and it’s all you can do to drop yourself onto the couch. Just as you’re ready to pass out, someone knocks. And knocks again.

You groan. “Sorry whoever you are,” you mumble. “But I am not getting up.”

Miraculously, the knocking stops and you leave consciousness shortly thereafter. It’s only when you wake up the next morning that you suddenly realize nobody buzzed, which means it was somebody who was already in the building, which means it was likely your next-door neighbor, who probably waited until you got home, and who probably thought that you had actively ignored him.

Shit. You rub the bridge of your nose and force yourself up. Before you shower or change your clothes or otherwise do anything, you sit down and write out a short apology note, because while you don’t care to make friends, you don’t want them to think you’re a total dick. You go to leave it at their door, only to be brought up short at your own.

Sitting on the ground is a little gift package from a local coffee shop, filled with different types of coffee and a mug with their logo on it. You pick up the cellophane-wrapped basket and flip open the small card on the front.

‘Sorry we keep missing you! Hopefully we’ll meet someday. For now, accept these with our tentative apologies. We’re both night owls but we do our best. Until we meet for real, Your new neighbors.’

You smile at the words, a cartoon happy face, and the two different signatures. You could have sworn it was the new neighbors who were supposed to get gifts. And, actually– that’s not a bad idea.

It is incredibly early in the morning, but you know that shop is open. You slip on something more comfortable than your wrinkled work clothes, make a quick dash out, and you return with breakfast for yourself and a small basket of assorted treats for your neighbors. On the tiny card that came with it you write ‘Welcome to the neighborhood!’, place your apology note right behind it, and go home to give yourself a nice morning.

You don’t actually meet one of them for at least another week.

A shitty day has been topped off by an even shittier date and all you want is to crawl into bed and ignore the headache that is slowly but strongly coming on. This plan is currently being thwarted by your inability to find your keys– and in your haste to get at them, your bag containing your leftovers topples to the ground. And that just fucking figures. You lean your back against the wall and as the encroaching pain suddenly barrels in, you sink down to sit and pull your knees up for a place to rest your head.

You don’t even get a full minute of peace before the neighbors’ door opens, and flicking your eyes over reveals the hem of blue pajama pants and bare feet pointed in your direction. Is this seriously how this is going to happen?

“Are you all right?”

Yep. Fucking great.

“No offense, but–” You rub your temples. “I’m having some problems right now and I’d really like to be alone.”

He’s quiet. But then he sits down next to you. “Well, I’ll be alone with you.”

The only reason you don’t glare at him is because it would hurt. He fidgets. “If you just don’t want to see a doctor, I know some basic first aid.”

First aid? What is he–

You laugh. Your head is pounding but he’s so sincerely sweet you can’t help but be amused. “Thanks, but it’s– I’m not hurt.” You wave your hand flippantly, because that’s all this warrants, really, no matter how dramatic you want to be. “Bad day and bad headache and bad circumstances. Thanks, but I’ll be okay.”

He seems to relax on that front, but he doesn’t leave. In fact, he clears his throat. “I’m Steve Rogers. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

You tell him your name and stick your hand in his general direction. His grip is gentle. “I’ve heard you introduce yourself to other people so I kind of already knew your name,” you admit. “Your boyfriend’s name is James, right?”

He’s silent and you look up. He’s frowning. Your stomach drops. “Shit; are you not out?” On one hand, it’s hard to ‘no homo’ a mouth-on-mouth kiss that happened right by the elevators. On the other hand, this is a very quiet floor and that was an odd hour. Maybe they just–

“No, no, we are, it’s just–” Steve clears his throat. “We weren’t. For a long time. So it’s still new and…nice when someone else says it.”

“Oh.” You smile. “I get that.”

He looks curious but your head resonates with a jolt of pain and you grimace. He chuckles. “Right, you have a headache. Um…” A jingling sound simultaneously delights and hurts you. He holds up your keys. “These might help.”

“No doubt.” You take the keys and allow him to help you up. In the time it takes you to unlock the door, he’s gathered up all the other stuff you dropped, including the bag of Styrofoam and food.

“Sorry, but I don’t think your leftovers made it,” Steve says and hands it to you.

“It’s okay. It wasn’t that good anyway.” You take your things. “Thanks. Goodnight.”

“Take some aspirin.”

“Sure, mom,” you say and roll your eyes. You cringe– even that hurts.

“Serves you right,” Steve says. Smug bastard. You flip him off and shut the door on his laughter.

You’re both friendly, but go back to passing each other at odd and inconvenient times. However you always give a smile or a wave or a nod, and Steve and James return the gestures in kind.

One day, though, you’re coming down the hall and you see someone sitting on the floor near your apartment. Or Steve’s. You can’t tell yet.

As you get closer, you recognize James, sitting in the space between your doors and so curled up he looks impossibly small for such an ordinarily large guy. He looks up as you approach and grunts a low greeting.

“Hey. Is everything okay?” you ask and glance at the door. Are they fighting?

“I forgot my key.”

The way he mumbles it makes it sound like he’s pouting and you clamp down on a laugh too late– it sounds like a snort. He looks at you and yes, he is pouting.

“Sorry, sorry.” You clear your throat. “One of the girls is still at the front desk.”

He shakes his head. “I’m just gonna wait for Steve. Thanks.”

He goes back to…brooding. Or staring at the wall until it moves. Or watching an intense movie in his mind. Or counting particles in the air with utmost focus. Whatever it is, he’s so into it that your obvious hesitation goes ignored.

You shuffle into your apartment and move slow. You don’t know why– the hallway is utterly benign. So harmless that even you were recently content to sit out there just because you didn’t want to deal with anything. But now you’re realizing why Steve stopped for you– it’s kind of sad.

You take a look around the living room for any ideas. Your eyes catch on a pack of cards just hanging out on a shelf. Perfect. You grab it, wipe the dust off on your pants, and go back into the hallway.

James is staring at the floor now and he doesn’t look up, not even when you sit in front of him. He does lift his head when you start dealing, though he doesn’t say anything. Not until after you settle down, pick up your hand, and ask him, “Got any fives?”

James sits and just blinks. You think you see a hint of a smile, but if it’s there then it’s gone just as fast. However he does pick up his hand and looks it over. “…Go fish.”

The game goes on and you’re almost at the end of it when Steve finally shows up. Apparently James hadn’t called him, given the absolute confusion in his voice when he says, “Bucky?” (Which– Bucky?)

“Shh,” James says and waves him off.

You scan your hand. You’re close but James is closer (because he’s a fucking cheater), and you can only take a wild stab in the dark. “Got any twos?”

James grins. “Go fish.”

You swear up and down James’s rotten lineage as you pull another card. A four. If that rat bastard–

“Got any fours?”

You throw the card at his face. He laughs and puts down his hand– two fucking fours, of course– and you aim your scowl at Steve because James has been utterly immune. From the way Steve’s smiling, he is too. “Your boyfriend is a fucking cheat.”

“Who do you think I learned it from?” James chuckles. He finishes putting the cards away, and stands and extends his hand to you. You take it. Begrudgingly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve says and looks away.

“Both of you need to leave; this building has no room for people who cheat at cards,” you say.

James snorts. “But it has room for a feared international assassin?”

You’re not sure if the hyperbole is based on something (Steve is incredibly popular and probably gets a lot of good gossip) but you feign serious consideration for the question nonetheless. “Still a better person than a cheater.”

James blinks. Steve hurries to grab him and tells you “Good night!” before all but dragging his boyfriend into their apartment.

An hour later, you’re just about settled in when someone knocks. You sigh but get up to see who and what and why. You’re not terribly surprised to see James, but you do give Steve an extra look over. He’s staring at the floor, head hunched in between his shoulders.

“Steve was telling me that you don’t know who we are,” James says.

“Should I?” you ask.

James nods and– almost monotonously– tells you about Steve being Steve Rogers as in Captain America and he himself being James Barnes as in Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes who was thought dead in World War II but captured by–

You know the story. Vaguely, but only people who live under rocks could have entirely missed the story of an American hero turned brainwashed assassin that played ad nauseum for months, and while you may not have recognized them, you know the basics. It’s a very sad story, and though James tries to tell it as blandly as possible, he can’t lift his head to look at you. By contrast, you can feel Steve staring at you.

At the end of it James goes silent and awaits your judgment. Sure, it’s surprising you live next to Captain America and Sergeant Barnes, but you’re not sure why James looks like he’s waiting for you to drop the guillotine.

“I hope you don’t think this gets you out of a rematch,” you say. James’s head snaps up and Steve lets out a startled little laugh. You stay focused on the man right in front of you though, as he slowly relaxes. You shake your head. “No mercy. Not even for grandpas.”

Steve laughs harder and James hangs his head again, but this time while pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ.”

“But yeah, it is good to know.” You flash them two thumbs up. “Nobody’s gonna, uh, try to wreck your apartment, are they?”

“No.” James quirks a smile. “Trust me; it’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

You’re not sure how that would stop idiots from trying, but James’s smile is just on the edge of ‘terrifying,’ so you decide to trust him. “Okay.” You can’t think of anything else to say and turn to go back in. “Um…good night Steve, good night James.”

“Bucky.”

You stop and look at James. He’s scratching the back of his head. “If you don’t mind. James is for strangers. Bucky is for people I…know.”

“Okay. Night Steve, night Bucky,” you say and go back inside.

Steve and Bucky turn out to be pretty good neighbors. Steve is the kind of guy who always says hi, and only nods if he has no other (polite) choice. Bucky is quieter, and only ever nods at you. Well, mostly.

“Wait–” Bucky practically dives to catch your bag of groceries just as the handle breaks and it falls towards the ground. He catches it, but his knees hit hard enough that you wince.

“Oh– jeeze; Bucky!” you scold before you can help yourself. “Be careful; you’re going to hurt yourself if you do that!”

He stares at you. Right– active duty superhero. However.

“Thank you,” you say as he hands the bag to you. “But I don’t want to be the reason your knees give out.”

Bucky starts to roll his eyes and abruptly stops, like he suddenly remembers he’s trying to be polite. “Don’t worry about me. I’m tougher than I look.”

You shrug, though you catch that there’s more to it than that. It seems rude to ask though, especially since he and Steve are public figures and it’s your own fault you don’t know much past the basics. Is he as enhanced as Steve? You haven’t really considered that. If he’s exactly like Steve then yeah, it’s probably silly to worry about his knees. Still, that had sounded like it would hurt.

You figure you should probably do some research anyways; so you bid Bucky goodbye and go inside to put your stuff away and do some quick fact-checking online to give yourself some baseline understanding. So you don’t embarrass yourself again.

Your plan goes off the rails within the first ten minutes, and within the following twenty you can no longer take reading all the various think-pieces so you spend the rest of the evening letting out your frustration by writing angry letters you will never send. They range from general (“[…] like SOME people who don’t understand the meaning of TORTURED and BRAINWASHED […]”) to more specific (“Dear Daily Bugle, How the FUCK are you still in business you trash rag I wouldn’t use you to light a fire if I was freezing to death […]”).

You groan and rub your face after what feels like hours. Actually, it has been hours; it’s obviously late and you forgot about dinner, so you decide you should probably eat now that the rage isn’t feeding you anymore.

You’re just stepping out of your apartment when Steve comes out of his at the same time. It’s a little late to get the mail, but you can’t imagine why else he’d be out in loungewear.

“Hey,” you say as you lock your door.

“Hi,” Steve says. “You’re out late.”

“Yeah. I got distracted doing…stuff.” You turn to face him. “I’m just going to grab some food.”

“Good. That’s…good,” Steve says. He doesn’t leave. He stands there. Facing you.

“Do you need something?” you ask.

“Not exactly. I have to tell you that…” Steve shifts. “The walls are kind of thin, and Bucky and I have really good hearing, and, well…”

But he stops at that, and you cannot fathom what he’s getting at that makes him look like he wants to leap out of a window. “Okay, uh…was I making a lot of noise or–” Suddenly you remember all your angry muttering just minutes ago, next to the wall you share. “Oh. GOD.” You hide your face in your hands. “Oh god. Does Bucky like flowers? I need an apology bouquet; god, I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay; I’m sorry we could overhear– we have a friend coming to fix that as soon as he can– but Bucky, he uh…” Steve takes a moment. “He thinks you were cursing at him.”

That makes no sense. To the point where you stop panicking so you can deconstruct that idea.

Nope. Still doesn’t make sense.

You lift your head and look at Steve. “Why would I be mad at Bucky for all the shit he has to wade through? I’m mad at the fucking blog writers and so-called “journalists” and commenters who are the absolute worst.”

Steve loses at least an inch of height when he exhales. “I told Bucky you weren't mad at him.” Steve looks at his apartment. “I told you.”

The door is wide open and Bucky is leaning on one side of the frame, arms crossed, and eyes entirely fixed on you. “Yeah,” you say, once again realizing he probably listened to everything. “Not you; I was bitching about the people who have all the brain power of a worm.” You reconsider that, because really, what have worms ever done to you? “Never mind; that’s mean to worms.”

Bucky’s laugh is harsh and startled, and then he’s silent. You clear your throat. “Since it’s already awkward…do you like hugs?”

Bucky’s scrunched face says ‘no,’ but what comes out of his mouth is, “It’s complicated.”

Enough said. “That’s okay; then…air hug.” You open your arms wide and mimic a hug. A hug for a giant, but Bucky smiles so you guess the sentiment gets through.

“What if I said I didn’t like air hugs?” he says.

“Then it would have gone to Steve and become an air chokehold.” You jerk your thumb at Steve. “He could have come and knocked and told me, but no, he had to let me embarrass myself. Jerk.”

Both of them laugh and then look surprised about it. You roll your eyes– what is with them that they’re so shocked to find themselves laughing? Bucky never looks like that when Steve makes him smile, so it’s not like amusement is a completely foreign concept. Before you’re tempted to ask, though, your stomach interrupts with a timely growl. “Right. You two have a nice night; I’m going to stuff myself until I’m in too much pain to even know what embarrassment is.”

“I could pay for your dinner. To apologize,” Steve says.

“Nah, I’m good,” you say, wave, and get on your way. It’s much better to keep a grudge in this case– this way you can keep teasing them about it, and maybe someday you’ll make them laugh and they won’t be surprised by it.

The next day you’re out and about when you pass by a small flower shop and, well, why not? Flowers are nice and soft and you’re pretty sure Bucky isn’t sensitive to smell since that time someone stunk up the hallway with rotten seafood and he was the only one unaffected.

You walk right up to the counter and exchange greetings with the person behind it. “I’m looking for an apology bouquet. Something nice and classic; the guy I’m giving it to is…” You have no idea how to explain this situation and no desire to know what this person thinks of Bucky, so you end up finishing with, “Old. Very old.”

The florist smiles and nods, obviously well-versed in people who have absolutely no idea what they’re doing when it comes to flowers. After he shows you a few arrangements and you’re deciding between them, he tries to make small talk. “Is this for a grandparent?”

“Neighbor,” you say, not looking away from the two bunches you’re stuck on. “I was…accidentally inconsiderate, and he’s a nice guy, so I want to apologize.”

“I wish my neighbors would do that,” he says and sighs so forlornly you smile.

“Don’t we all,” you say, thinking back to past living arrangements. Steve and Bucky are quiet and kind. You hope they stay.

However when you have your pick and are up at the front paying for it (while also trying to ignore the price), the florist rifles behind the counter and comes out with temptation too great to resist. “This comes with a complimentary card. This is the normal one, but you mentioned your neighbor was older, so would this be better?”

There is the one small card that looks like it would fit the flowers fine. Next to it is an identical card except five times bigger and with a font that is easier to read.

You do your best not to smile like the sharks from “Finding Nemo” and tap on the bigger card. “This is perfect, thank you,” you say while you try to tell yourself, ‘fish are friends, not food; fish are friends, not food; fish are friends, not food; fish…friends…food…’

You get sushi for lunch and go home with a spring in your step. When you get there, Bucky and Steve’s door is open, and stuff of the technological sort is piled around just outside it. You can barely hear them talking from somewhere inside, and you place the flower vase just outside their door. Hopefully they see it before they step on it.

You’re in the middle of cleaning the kitchen when you hear loud laughter in the hall. You ignore it at first but it keeps going…and going…and you hear Steve laugh in a relatively short burst. You slowly stop, and then go to your room and stand by your desk.

“Bucky, if you can hear me and you’re okay with texting…” You hesitate, but give him your number. You barely get the chance to feel like an idiot when your phone suddenly buzzes. You jump, because that was fast, and pull it off the charger to see a text from an unfamiliar number that reads ‘???’.

You: Who’s the hyena? Bucky: lol Bucky: stark Bucky: by the way did i use lol right? Bucky: im pretty old, so i dont know

You laugh but glance at the door. Bucky and Steve are sort of in the public eye, but just out of it enough that you didn’t recognize them right away. Tony Stark, though, is a living spectacle– you’re shocked the guy can go anywhere without a bunch of reporters getting underfoot. You are incredibly curious to see him in the flesh after years of tabloids and news reports and– you’re just curious okay? But you’ve also reached your limit of ‘awkward’ for the day and without an actual reason to stick your head out, you’d just be assuring yourself embarrassment, so you shrug it off.

However when someone knocks and takes that choice away from you, all that previous curiosity flees and leaves you with only, “Ugh.”

Your phone buzzes.

Bucky: serves you right You: I’m taking back that air hug You: You’re both jerks

But you go and answer the door. Tony Stark with a bright, genuine smile looks so different from what you’ve seen before that you actually do a double-take. Steve is hovering behind him and smiles apologetically. You clear your throat. “Um…hi?”

“Hi, I’m Tony Stark and you are my new favorite person,” he says and shakes your hand like he’s on something.

“Don’t worry; he gets a new one every five minutes,” Steve says, unconcerned with his twitchy friend.

“Oh good. Being someone’s favorite person seems like a lot of pressure,” you say.

Tony then proceeds to talk, which is exhausting for you but somehow not so for him. When you find out he hasn’t slept in three days it makes more sense as to why he seems only slightly tweaked rather than full tilt. Eventually Steve manages to gently maneuver Tony back to what he was doing and you escape back into your home after a polite but very quickly given goodbye.

Steve comes by later to apologize for Tony and you all test out the soundproofing tech. They say it works great, which is a relief, and you assume that now the excitement has gone down, things will go back to a friendly-but-distant normal.

Except that they don’t get distant. In fact, even Bucky greets you with a word or few more often than not, and Steve…well, it’s hard to say since he’s always been nice, but you think he’s more genuine with you. And after a couple of weeks of observation you can say that for certain– Steve is always, always kind but he definitely has a face for strangers and a face for friends.

You almost drop your key when you realize that’s what you are– friends. New friends, but…

“Are you okay?”

You turn your head to see Steve leaning against the wall. “Hey. When did you get back?”

“Late last night.” Steve stands upright. “I was thinking…I never made it up to you for not telling you sooner about the walls, so I wanted to see if you would come to dinner with me and Bucky. You pick, I treat. It could double as a birthday dinner.”

You open your mouth to politely decline when you realize something. “When did I…I didn’t tell you when my birthday was.”

Steve looks down. “No. Uh…no. You didn’t.”

You take a deep breath. “So how do you know it’s today?”

Steve finds the floor very fascinating. “A friend of mine ran a background check. I’m so sorry; I didn’t tell her to but she, uh, she sort of does what she wants.”

“When did you find out about the background check?”

“Just this morning.” Steve lifts his head and flashes you a boyish smile and oof. “When she told me to wish you a happy birthday.”

You deflate but the irritation stays. Even though you logically know it’s not Steve’s fault. “Okay,” you say. “I will absolutely let you pay for me to eat my feelings.”

Steve smiles brightly. “Great! When and where?”

“Anytime after I change my clothes, and I’m thinking that burger place just down the block. I forget the name; by the stationery store.”

“The new place?”

You nod. “It smells good but it’s trendy as fuck and I wasn’t sure I wanted to pay for it. Enter: you.”

He laughs. “Okay then; I’ll talk to Bucky and find out if he’s up to it.”

“I could eat.”

You jump but Bucky just stands there, smirking, and Steve laughs. You put your hand to your chest. “I can’t believe you’re treating me like this on my birthday.”

“You weren't going to tell us it was your birthday,” Bucky accuses, which takes you back a bit, because were you supposed to?

“Well, no, but now that it’s out I’m going to take full advantage,” you say. “Gimme a few to change out of my work clothes and I’ll be ready. You just…hang out or powder your noses or something.”

“Bossy,” Bucky says.

“It’s my birthday,” you say imperiously and slip into your apartment while they laugh.

You’re fast becoming fond of the sound.

Dinner is great and Steve insists on stopping to get a cake, which you all take back to their apartment to eat. Bucky pulls out a pack of cards and you play “Go Fish” which…you lose. Then you play “Gin Rummy” which…you also lose. “Hearts,” unsurprisingly, you lose, and out of desperation you scan their shelf of board games for something you might have a chance at. “Risk” immediately gets the mental axe, but “Jenga” holds promise.

Except in the end you lose that too, and when the structure crumbles (close, you were so fucking close) so too does your simmering irritation and you let out a long string of curses before you can even think to control your mouth.

“Wow,” Steve says, audibly impressed. “I haven’t heard something that profane since the army.”

“Thank you,” you say in your kindest voice. “Also– go fuck yourselves.”

They both laugh and you smile because they really feel like your friends now. Asshole friends but, well, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

One day when Bucky is on his own, again without his key, you invite him in and try to regain some of your lost honor.

That’s a mistake.

You: I’m kicking Bucky out You: You can collect him on the curb You: Just make sure you get here before the garbage trucks do Steve: Aw Steve: Whatd he win at this time? You: Scrabble You: You photographic memory fucks Bucky: you are the sorest damn loser i ever met in my life You: EXCUSE YOU You: YOU ARE NOT INVITED You: TO THIS CONVERSATION You: BEGONE Bucky: 9 points

You put in the tableflip emoji and resist the urge to throw your phone at Bucky’s laughing face.

You all agree to never again speak of “Ticket to Ride.”

That agreement goes double for “Battlestar Galactica.” However you’re secretly pleased that Steve is apparently a better liar than even Bucky knows. Bucky isn’t so happy but that fucker cheats at “Hearts.” His opinions are null and void.

“Hi, can I help y–”

You turn from locking your door to see who Steve is talking to, but he’s looking at you and his jaw drops. Even Bucky’s eyes go wide, and you roll your own.

“Yeah, yeah; laugh it up,” you mutter and straighten your outfit. Black tie events aren’t really your forte, but work is paying for drinks and food so you figured why the hell not.

“You look great,” Bucky blurts out.

“Oh…thanks,” you say, caught off guard by his effusive sincerity. They’re both staring at you though and they’re both unreadable in this moment. You clear your throat. “Hey, since you’re here…” You hold out your arms and do a slow turn. When you return to face them you let your arms flop back down. “Do I look okay?”

“Amazing,” Steve says. “Where are you off to?”

“Company party.” You shrug. “It’s not normally my scene but I’m not gonna turn down free food and an open bar.”

“Good thinking.” Steve smiles. “Your date is real lucky.”

You grimace before you can catch it, and Steve’s smile falls. Damn it; now you’re really looking forward to that open bar. “No date, which is nice because I can duck out whenever I want.”

Steve nods rapidly and as you see Bucky hover behind him you try to diffuse the situation with a joke. “Not all of us can be so lucky.”

Either you sound more bitter than you think or Steve just can’t make the distinction right now. Regardless– it backfires. He runs his hand through his hair and looks down and does all but shrink before your very eyes. “I’m so sorry, I–”

“Hey.” You put your hand on his arm and give him a moment to shrug it off. He doesn’t, and when he looks at you you try to give him your very best smile. “I was trying to make a joke. It was probably really bad. I’m sorry.”

“Well…” He frowns but at least he’s not about to roll himself up in the carpet anymore. “I’m still sorry.”

“I’m going to choose to believe you’re apologizing for being stubborn,” you say.

“How dare you.” Steve smiles. “I would never apologize for that.”

He still comes off as tightly wound, so you open your arms. “Hug it out? Just…watch the outfit.”

He chuckles but moves in without hesitation. It’s a good hug; warm, softer than it should be, and yet surprisingly strong. You’re not going to complain though– Bucky truly is a lucky guy. You step back from Steve and are going to tell Bucky so, but you find his arms open.

“I wasn’t a stubborn jerk,” he says slyly. “Do I get a hug?”

You feel a smile take over your face and you move towards him slowly. His hug is different, but just as good– still warm, a little more stiff; straddling the line between tight and loose, like he wants to hold on but he’s afraid. You squeeze once and then let go. They’re both very lucky. This time, though, you take a moment and decide not to say that out loud. You’re sure they already know it anyway.

“Well, I’ll let you guys get to your nice relaxing night in.” You smooth out your front. “I’m going to drink some booze on the company dime.”

“Be safe,” Steve says. “Call us if you have any trouble.”

You salute him and get on your way.

“There you are.”

You jolt upright, trying to pull yourself out of your dozing. It’s still cold and you’re still stuck outside with everyone else while the firefighters do their inspection. You know it’s a big building and they’re doing their job and all that. You just wish they could do it a little faster.

“Hey,” you say to Steve and Bucky while they do an inspection of their own. Well not everyone can look so fabulous in the midst of a fire alarm. “You didn’t let Steve near the oven, did you?”

“Very funny,” Steve says. “That was one time. And I’ve never set off the building.”

“Hm,” you say suspiciously but leave him be. The cold isn’t terrible but it is uncomfortably distracting.

“Geeze, you gotta be freezing,” Bucky says and shrugs the blanket off his shoulders.

“It’s okay, I’m fi-” Bucky dumps the blanket over your head like you’re an unsightly lamp he’s trying to hide. “Dick.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Bucky teases and Steve laughs.

“Mmf.” You could take the blanket off…but it seems like so much work. Either Bucky or Steve ends up pulling it off your head and draping it over your shoulders. You’re not sure who– it takes too much effort to open your eyes again. “Thanks.”

“It’s a little early to be pulled out of a dead sleep,” Steve says. “Either you’re sick or you’re older than us.”

“Hardy ha–” You yawn. “Har.” You clear your throat and blink yourself awake. “Or I’ve been doing overtime all week and finally got a chance to crash.” When the fire alarm had gone off you had almost cried. You had most certainly debated the merits of suffocation and/or burning to death, before you crawled out of bed and stumbled down flights of stairs with everyone else.

“Hopefully we’ll go back in soon,” Steve says. “Here, stand between us; we run pretty warm.”

You’re about to protest that the blanket is more than enough and you’re not going to put them out even further but then Bucky and Steve move to stand on either side of you and the warmth melts your tongue. It’s nice; it’s so damn nice. It isn’t like they’re portable space heaters, they’re just… More than just warm, you feel safe, you feel good. You shut your eyes and soak it in.

“Hey.”

You jolt again and lift your head from where you had rested it– on Steve’s arm. And notice that most everyone is inside.

You panic and throw the blanket at Bucky while you try to put at least a foot between you and Steve. “I am so sorry!”

“It’s all right!” Steve says, laughing, while Bucky uncovers himself. You back away, not sure why you’re so embarrassed, but feeling an innate need to extricate yourself right now.

“Well, um, thanks for the blanket, but I love my bed way more than I love you,” you say. They laugh and you run inside.

Only to come to a sudden stop. The line for the few elevators is ridiculous and the lobby is a cacophony of talking, complaining, laughing adults and babbling and crying children.

You eye the elevators and you eye the stairwell door. Begrudgingly, you go to the stairs and slip inside. Apparently everyone who was willing to walk up has already done so, because it’s completely quiet and that is a massive improvement in and of itself. Technically you’re awake enough, so you resign yourself to a long, slow climb and start on your way.

It only takes you until the second floor to regret your choice, the third floor to regret your life, and the fourth floor to take a break. You’re leaning on the railing and considering just living here now when the first floor door opens and you can see Bucky and Steve come in. They wave at you and you wave back, and they turn to each other to talk. After a few seconds they start arguing about something. Then they start goofing off, shoving at and dodging each other even as they run up the stairs with ease.

They also get so loud. “Can not!” and “Can too!” bounce off the walls as they get closer to where you are.

“Do you mind?” you ask and turn to rest your back on the rail. “Some of us are trying to die in peace.”

“Sorry, but this guy–” Bucky jerks his thumb at his boyfriend, “–thinks he can beat me up the stairs.”

Steve shrugs. “Sorry Buck; it’s science.”

“You little– you don’t know shit about science.” Bucky huffs. “I could beat you handily.”

“Oh yeah?”

They argue and you zone out. Until you hear your name. “What?”

“I told Steve I could beat him there with you on my back.” Bucky’s full-on grinning. “How about it?”

You squint at how far you’ve come. At how far you have to go. And then at Bucky. “You promise to win?”

“Absolutely.”

It seems like a dumb idea– until you’re on Bucky’s back. Then you feel warm and safe again, and once the race starts the jostling is only just enough to keep you holding on.

“We’re here.”

Bucky’s voice is gentle but you grumble at having to stand on your own power again. “Did you win?”

“By a mile,” Bucky chuckles as you fumble with the lock.

“Because he cheated,” Steve says.

“Now who’s a sore loser?” But you smile at them. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Bucky says.

“Good night. Go get your beauty sleep,” Steve says. “Not that you need it.”

“We need to play poker. If that’s how you lie I might have a shot.”

You go inside as Steve acts offended and Bucky laughs. Bed calls and you slip into cool sheets, recalling warm bodies and blankets protecting you from the full chill of the air. Even now in the one place you feel safest in the world, it feels like you lack something. Your eyes snap open when you realize.

You don’t love your bed more than you love them.

Shit.

The next morning, when you run into Steve and he looks worried and asks if you got any sleep, you force a smile and tell him you’re fine. He responds with a hug.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

It has been a long few weeks. Directly after the fire alarm you were too busy to see much of Steve and Bucky and it was a relief. Until they got called out and within a few days you began to worry like you haven’t worried before. Nothing in the news has had anything about the Avengers so they’re either off the planet with Thor (talk about sentences you never thought would cross your mind) or they’re underground. And with every day they’re gone you grow afraid a group of suits are going to randomly show up, take everything out of their apartment, and the next thing you’ll see will be a shitty news headline like “NATION IN MOURNING.”

So when you turn down your hall and see someone standing by their door, your heart leaps and you stumble. It’s just one woman though, in casual clothes, with red hair and, as you approach, a familiar face. She relaxes against the wall between your apartment and theirs and where you feel wary, her expression is impassive.

“Hello,” she says.

“Hi.” You nod at their side. “Are you waiting for…”

She shrugs and pushes off the wall to face you. “You know, I don’t think we’ve met.” She puts her hand out. “Natasha Romanoff.”

You shake her hand and introduce yourself even as you stare at her. She’s very, very familiar. After a few seconds you remember, vividly, seeing her and Bucky talk and laugh as she had left their apartment one day.

“Background check,” you blurt out.

Theoretically, logically, they could (and probably do) have more than one friend going by ‘she.’ Natasha’s slight smile, however, confirms your suspicion. “I heard you were upset about that.”

You shrug. “It’s a little invasive.”

She nods. “I’m not very…” Her smile turns almost brittle. “Cuddly, you could say. But Steve and Bucky are my friends, and I look out for them in what ways I can.”

You notice there’s no apology, but you already knew you wouldn’t be getting one. Just as you’re about to excuse yourself though, she speaks up again. “They say a lot of good things about you.”

“They…do?” You can admit to yourself, you’re pleased at the thought. “They’re nice guys.”

“That they are,” Natasha says, giving ominous weight to an otherwise innocuous statement. She then turns and walks away. “Be good to them.”

You jerk your head back instinctively. “We…we live next door to each other; we’re just neighbors.”

“For now.”

You don’t know what that means and you’re honestly afraid to ask. You’ve just barely met her and only spoken with her for less than ten minutes; she doesn’t know how you feel. Yet her words and ghost-like vanishing make you feel uneasy even as you step into your own sanctuary.

That’s also when you realize she never actually said ‘yes’ when you asked if she was waiting on Bucky and Steve.

You’re still chewing on that interaction even hours later when you hear a loud thump in the hall and then a curse in Bucky’s voice. Without thinking, you race to open the door and look out.

Steve is still in uniform– you can see it peeking out of his half-zipped jacket, and his hair is a mess. Bucky is even worse, with dirt smudged on his face and holding his left arm protectively as he and Steve bicker softly. “I’m telling you, it’s fine and I can fix it myse-”

Bucky stops and looks right at you. You hesitate, but just going back inside isn’t really an option. Besides, you don’t really feel ashamed for this. You walk towards them and as soon as you can, put your arms around them both. As much as you can– they’re both so big– but they come closer together, which helps, and they hug you too, which…

“We’re okay,” one of them says, and it’s enough.

Steve is standing in the hall. He’s a vision even in a white t-shirt and gray lounge pants, (who gave him the right, you wonder with some agony), but his face is pinched into a scowl.

“Are you all right?” you ask.

Like magic, his face relaxes. “I’m fine, it’s just…” Steve waves a hand at his apartment and then runs it through his hair.

This isn’t completely unfamiliar. You look at the door and wonder if Bucky’s okay. Well, Steve would be appropriately concerned if he wasn’t, even if they were fighting. Plus, Steve’s frustration actually makes him look very cute. He’s pouting, and no one is in any real trouble when pouting is involved. “If I’m understanding this right…basically you’re having some problems and you’d like to be alone right now?”

He smiles, despite his own best efforts not to, and nods.

“Do you want to be alone with me?”

He stares at nothing for a few seconds. When he looks at you, he appears so unsure you want to pull him into your arms. You resist. Barely.

“Could I?” he asks.

You open your door and gesture grandly at it. Steve goes in and you follow, darting ahead really quick to pull some clothes (clean, thank goodness) off the couch. “One second,” you say as he sits. You chuck your shit in your room and go make some instant hot chocolate for the both of you. Steve seems content to sit quietly, giving you time to add mountains of whipped cream, before you carefully approach the sofa.

“Are we supposed to be able to drink this?” Steve asks.

“Eventually.” You hand him a spoon and you both work at your dessert-drinks until you’re sipping at warmth.

Steve clears his throat. “Do you want to play a game?” he asks innocently with a smile that is anything but.

“I’d rather sign up for a Pokémon tournament hosted by Jigsaw.” You pretend to flick your drink at him. “It’s pretty telling that you seem to be feeling better when you start acting like an asshole.”

“Seem to be,” Steve repeats.

You shrug and bring your mug to your mouth. “Are you and Bucky okay?”

“Ye-s!” Steve chokes on his drink. “Yes; sorry,” he says and puts his cup down. You, a true hero, do not laugh once as he wipes away errant liquid chocolate. “We’ve had much worse fights,” he says as he settles back in. “We’re just disagreeing about how to solve a…problem.”

“Big problem or little problem?” you ask.

Steve studies you. Like he isn’t sure how much to divulge. “It’s…” He sighs and rubs his face. “It’s a risk. The reward is pretty great, but…”

“…The consequences might make it not worth it?” you guess but he shakes his head.

“It’s absolutely worth it.” Steve stares at you again so intently that you have to force yourself not to look right at his lips as his tongue passes over them. You outta get a medal for this shit. “But Bucky thinks we should act slow.”

“And you want to shove in?”

Steve turns so red that you jerk up, concerned that he might be choking again, except his drink is well and truly gone. “Not exactly,” he says, his voice in a stranglehold.

“What…oh.” You roll your eyes. “Bad choice of words; fine. And here I thought Bucky was the pervert.”

“Just sometimes,” Steve says with a smile. He regains what little color he has, at least, and clears his throat a few times. “Anyway; I think that being more direct is the best way to handle this.”

“How slow is ‘slow?’” you ask and swirl your drink to mix the chocolate collating at the bottom of the cup.

Steve sighs. “I should…find out,” he admits. “I might have overreacted.”

“Just a little.”

You jerk your head to see– Bucky, leaning his back against the door. He glowers and points at you. “You. Lock your door. Always.”

“Sorry.” You put up your hands. “Got distracted; it won't happen again.”

Bucky winces and glances back. “Hey, no, sorry,” you say and stand. “I wasn’t– I’m sorry; that was flippant. Can I…?” You open your arms. Bucky looks at them longingly but ends up shaking his head. “That’s okay,” you say and do what passes for an air hug.

“Just a little?” Steve repeats.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “So maybe I…stuck in a little too much too.”

“It’s all right Buck. I should have been willing to talk it out more,” Steve says. But he doesn’t get up. Interesting. Apparently Steve is not the exception to the ‘no touching’ rule. However the looks they give each other more than make up for whatever contact doesn’t happen: loving, gentle, and expressive in a way that makes you feel like an intruder. It also makes you ache.

You clear your throat. “I want to ask if I should leave you two alone, but I’m also worried for my apartment if I do.”

Bucky laughs and Steve covers his face. They stay a while, and for a guy who starts off no-touching, Bucky sure as hell abandons it as soon as he’s able. You find yourself, some time later, with Bucky up against your side, his face in your shoulder, laughing at something Steve just said. Steve is on your other side and close enough that he can support you as Bucky’s weight naturally pushes you into him. You don’t feel suffocated though. You feel comfortable. Warm. So warm and comfortable that it’s hard to keep your eyes open. You’ve long since given up on trying to follow what they’re talking about– you’re just trying to stay awake.

“You still with us?” Bucky asks, and his voice then encases your name with amusement.

“Mm hm,” you lie through your vocal chords. Consciousness is out of your control now and you drift along in a light doze as they shift and move. You feel weightless but even warmer, with a soft something to lean your head against. Bucky and Steve are muted voices in the background; soothing, like steady rain behind a shut window, or the low conversations that fill a coffee shop.

You relax fully when you feel your mattress and sheets beneath you. Bucky and Steve are still talking but you fade out, not really caring about what they’re talking about.

Until you wake up the next morning to sunlight and rumpled clothes and shit you fell asleep on them you are the worst host ever.

You scramble out of bed and stumble over sleepy legs until you’re standing in front of Steve and Bucky’s door. You knock without hesitation and when it opens, Steve looks mildly surprised to see you.

“I am so sorry,” you say. “I can’t believe I fell asleep on you; that was so rude and I can’t apologize enough–”

“It’s all right,” Steve says, laughing. He looks you up and down. “Did you just wake up?”

You don’t even want to know. “Gee, how’d you guess?”

He smiles brightly and now that you aren’t panicking your body is alerting you that it is too damn early for this shit. “Do you want to come in and have some coffee?” he asks and stands aside.

You’re about to refuse out of politeness but the smell drifts out like a lure, and there’s Bucky, sitting at the counter, sipping his cup and looking softly sleep-ruffled. And you should apologize to him too; it’s only fair. So you accept Steve’s invitation. Only so you can apologize. Not because Steve is freshly showered and smells like really good aftershave, or because Bucky’s eyes are drooping and a sunbeam is making a halo from the fuzzy outliers of his hair.

“Hey,” you say as you approach him. “I’m sorry I–”

Bucky waves his hand in a very Jedi-like way and he pats the stool next to him. You take it. “Too early for words?” you ask quietly.

He shakes his head. “No need to apologize,” he says, his voice rough enough that you can practically feel it scratch your skin. You make the mistake of looking at his stubble and you shudder, but thankfully he’s turned away and doesn’t notice. “Actually, I’m the one who should apologize.”

“Huh?”

Bucky puts a key in front of you. Your key. Your spare key. You look at him, questioning, but he stares at his drink. “You were sleeping,” he mumbles. “And you can’t lock the deadbolt without a damn key. So I borrowed it.”

“I insisted,” Steve says, putting a steaming mug of heavenly smelling elixir right in front of you. “It was either that, or disable the noise-blocking device so we could keep an ear out.”

“Not in a creepy way,” Bucky adds.

“Guys,” you say. “I know we live in New York but I’m fine.” You pocket the key. “But…thanks; that was thoughtful.” And only slightly creepy.

“You’re not mad?” Bucky says and dares to look at you.

“No. I trust you.” You doubt they know how much you trust them. “You were way too nice though; next time just dump me on my ass.”

“Not a chance.” Steve’s smile is…sneaky. Why is he being sneaky? “You were too relaxed. You looked cute.”

You accidentally send a shot of coffee straight to your lungs. “Wha–” You cough a few more times and breathe deep. “I what?”

“Is it that hard for you to take a compliment?” Bucky says, laughing.

You shake your head but smile at Steve. “Either you keep getting better at lying, or you need your eyes checked.”

Steve looks at Bucky, who says, “Nope, he’s right. Adorable.”

“Two against one. You lose,” Steve says.

You roll your eyes and bring your cup back to your mouth. “Story of my life since you cheating assholes moved in,” you mutter into the mug before you take a sip. They laugh. You don’t really belong here, in Bucky and Steve’s apartment with the light brightly announcing its arrival and both of them loose and vibrant in ways they can’t be outside that door. You don’t belong here. You don’t.

But you feel like you do. And sometimes it’s nice to pretend.

“Here.”

It’s night and you, Bucky, and Steve are sitting around, having drinks. Well, after they insisted you stay for breakfast, it seemed only right for you to invite them over for dinner. Polite. Yes, you are very polite.

So it’s with extreme hesitance that you accept the envelope Steve is holding out. Your name is written on the front in beautiful calligraphy, and you open it to find an invitation.

“Wow,” you say at the fancy script. You frown. “I met Tony Stark for all of five minutes that he probably thinks he hallucinated. Why am I getting invited to his party?”

“Technically it’s a charity event. And he asked us if there was anyone we wanted to invite,” Steve said. “Naturally, we thought of you.”

“Naturally,” you say as a joke, but it comes out weak. They’re fidgeting and barely faking nonchalance. Is this that important?

“Free booze and food, and it’s always good stuff,” Bucky says. He flashes you a smile. “How about it?”

You wave the card and try for a smile of your own. “Okay,” you say and clear your throat. “But I’ve only got the one nice outfit.”

“I know for a fact we wouldn’t mind seeing you in it again.”

The way Steve says that is full, heavy; like the words fill his throat on the way out. All pretense at humor dies and you look from him, to Bucky, to back and forth and back again.

“What…” You have to remind yourself to breathe. It’s hard, with both of them staring at you like that. “What are you saying?”

Steve looks at Bucky, receives a nod, and then approaches you. You don’t pull away, but even when he’s standing right in front of you, Steve moves slower than a snail. He gives you more than enough time to move back, and when he finally presses his lips to yours it feels like something in your chest snaps and you hold onto his shoulders to help support yourself. And if that pulls him closer to you, well…

…neither of you are complaining.

When you pull back to breathe, you’re not surprised to see Bucky there, but that cord in your chest pulls taut again, until you and he kiss as well. Steve doesn’t move away and you don’t realize you have one hand still gripping his shirt until he puts his hand over yours. Your other hand is gripping Bucky’s left shoulder. Normally sensitive about it, he doesn’t seem to even notice right now.

He’s smiling. It’s loose, and goofy, and beautiful. “Is it bad form to kiss before the first date?”

Your own smile grows. “Well…I did invite you both over for dinner.”

Steve laughs. “Does this mean this is the first date?”

It’s more than you could have ever believed would happen. And to think, it only came in response to them having you over for breakfast, which occurred because Steve and Bucky were having a–

Wait a minute.

Wait a god-damned minute.

You go over everything from the night before that you can remember and then you frown at Steve. “Hey. Hey.”

He and Bucky both stop smiling. “What?” Steve asks.

You huff. “So I’m a problem?”

“Oh.” Steve fights it, but the smile creeps onto his face, regardless. Then he puts his hand under your chin and barely grazes your skin and you lose all capability of thought any higher than ‘guh’. “I did say the reward was worth it.”

“And uh…” You inhale sharply when he tilts your face up. “What reward would that be?”

Steve and Bucky don’t leave for another hour and it’s a good thing they’re just next door, with how unsteady they are. The parting is reluctant on both sides, but Steve and Bucky are still a little proper (just a little, thankfully) and you want to get a good night’s sleep. You’re going shopping tomorrow– it’s your turn to surprise them.

You’ll show Steve what a problem is.

#shotthroughtheheart3k #bucky x steve x reader #stucky x reader #captain america fanfic #avengers fanfic #romance #strangers to friends to lovers

765 notes · View notes

theycallmemoosey · 5 years

Text

This is Weird

Stiles x Reader

A/N: Disclaimer! I am not a furry! While writing this, I was so stressed out that I sounded like a complete furry. I’m not. I just felt like it was a cute idea. I have also risen from the dead. I wrote this because a) I wanted to write for another fandom I really love and b) wanted to write something of my own if that makes sense? Sorry that I have been kinda radio silent, but things have been quite hard recently. I’m currently in the middle of writing a few more, so keep an eye on my profile and the usual tags! Hope you guys enjoy this one! Moose :)

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

“Hey pretty lady, you got any plans tonight?”

“Yes, Stiles” you chuckled, slamming your locker door shut to come face to face with Stiles who was stood behind the open door, “Funnily enough I’m heading to your house for dinner tonight”

“Ohhhh yeah” he smiled slyly, leaning down to kiss you quickly, “Any thoughts on what you want?”

“What do you want?” Scott asked, making you jump as he appeared behind you.

“Jesus Christ, McCall!”

“You should have heard me coming”

“There are a lot of heartbeats pounding right now, Scott. What makes you think I would hear yours too?”

“You’re twins” Stiles butted in, “Shouldn’t you two have a stronger connection or something? Like Ethan and Aiden?”

“Not always true” you replied, looking at said twins who were over on the other side of the hallway before your eyes locked on the clock on the wall above them, “Oh shit, I have to get to training”

“Wait, you didn’t tell me what you want to get for dinner tonight”

“Chinese” you blurted, worried about missing training and being shouted at by the coach, “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, meet me by Roscoe” he smiled, kissing you as you rushed off.

“Dude…did you have to?” Scott asked, sounding disgusted as he walked past Stiles to head towards the locker room.

“She’s my girlfriend”

“She’s my sister!” Scott fired back, pushing the door open and flinging his gym bag onto the nearest bench, “What are your plans tonight with Y/N anyway?”

“Dinner and Star Wars which I still can’t believe you haven’t watched, by the way”

“Creatures in space, big deal” Scott shrugged, “Because we don’t deal with enough weird shit in real life”

“McCall! Stilinski!” Coach Finstock called out from his office, “You’ll be training the freshmans”

“What?! Why?!” Stiles cried back, gaining the attention from the rest of the locker room.

“Just do it” Coach shook his head, mumbling ‘Idiots’ under his breath as he walked back into his office.

Scott pulled the whining Stiles out onto the field, grinning at his best friend’s constant grumbling about how unfortunate he was and how nothing ever worked out for him.

“Seriously, Scott. I can’t catch a break. First, you’re bitten and turned into a wolf, then my girlfriend is bitten, Lydia turns out to be a banshee, we’ve had multiple supernatural things trying to kill us and now I’m stuck training goddamn freshmans!”

“It's only for a couple of hours, Stiles” Scott huffed, lugging the bag of lacrosse balls over his shoulder as he headed towards the pitch.

“Freshmans, Scott! Freshmans!”

———————————————————

“There she is!” Stiles announced, grinning as he watched you hopped down the steps of the school.

“Hey, you” you smiled, kissing him quickly before handing him your gym bag to put in the backseat.

“How was training? That bitch Kathleen bother you again?”

“When doesn’t she?” You scoffed, jumping into the front seat as you waited for Stiles to get in next to you, “How was lacrosse?”

“Don’t get me started. I swear Coach has it in for me this year. He put me and Scott in with the freshmans today. Freshmans, Y/N! Freshmans!”

“Oh my god” you cried out, laughing slightly, “Poor baby”

“Tell me about it” he sighed, pulling out of the school campus, “Today has just been shit. Ms Matheson gave me a D in English and that asshat Joel decided that flicking gum into my hair was more fun than Physics. Not only that but-“

“Scott’s calling me” you interrupted, answering the call from your brother, “What?”

“Are you two ok?”

“Yeah, fine. Why? Everything ok with you?”

“Ummm…just get home as soon as possible. Pack meeting”

“Scott!” You called as he hung up the phone, groaning before looking at Stiles sympathetically, “We have to go to mine”

“But I want Chinese!”

“Stiles, I’m just as annoyed as you are but you know that when Scott calls a meeting, everyone has to be there”

Stiles looked over at you and frowned, but after seeing the look in your eyes he sighed and turned the steering wheel in a U-Turn to head towards your house.

When you arrived, you jumped out Roscoe and ran up the stairs, Stiles close behind you.

“Scott?”

“In the kitchen!” you heard Scott call out, taking off your shoes and flinging them in any random direction.

“Why did you call off my night with Stiles? And where the hell is everyone?!” You asked angrily, noticing Scott standing alone in the kitchen.

“Look, I’m sorry but I really think that something is wrong” he stated, his eyes flicking sympathetically between you and Stiles.

“No one else was available? The one night I had with Stiles in weeks?!”

“Y/N…” Stiles warned, not wanting an argument to break out.

“Why couldn’t you ask Lydia?”

“Date night with Aiden”

“Fine. Issac?”

“With Lydia and Aiden”

“Allison?”

“With everyone else!”

You sighed, groaning internally, “It was my date night with Stiles tonight, you idiot”

“I’m sorry, but I know I can count on you two. My best friend and my sister…you’re the only ones I can truly count on to be by my side when I have a feeling that something is wrong”

Stiles placed his hand on your waist and squeezed lightly, taking a step closer towards you until his chest was against your back, “What do you want us to do?”

————————————————————

“I’m telling you, it was right there!” Scott insisted, pointing at the floor on the top of the mountain overlooking the town.

“It might have been, but it’s not there now” you groaned, regretting not bringing your jacket along with you.

“I swear, I was walking in the woods and I looked over towards the cliff edge, and I swear I saw red eyes stare right back at me. It was like it was expecting me to be there”

“What were you doing walking in the woods alone?” You questioned, although you weren’t surprised when you were ignored.

“Scott, are you sure it wasn’t just a fox or…or a rabbit or something?” Stiles suggested, feeling just as annoyed with Scott as you were.

“With red eyes? Sure.” He scoffed, kicking a rock off of the cliff.

“Scott, please. I just want to go home and have some dinner. I don’t want to be here, on the top of a fucking cliff in the fucking freezing cold looking out for a fox!” You shouted, gasping loudly when you heard a growl behind you, Stiles standing in front of you as the three of you turned towards the sound.

“Believe me now?”

“Shut up you loser” you whispered, your ears listening intently for any sound of movements. Turning around, you saw your brother’s eyes glow red, the hairs on his chin and hands grow slowly as he also observed his surroundings.

“Stiles, get back to the jeep” you whispered, pushing his arm in the direction of Roscoe.

“It’s date night” he replied monotonously.

“Not funny” you breathed out, jumping at the louder growl from behind you. You growled and sprinted off into the trees, hearing your name being called from behind you.

Scott and Stiles panted, scared for you and for themselves, although they dared not move as they could hear the growling get closer and closer to them. Growling and breathing heavily, the two boys looked towards the trees, preparing themselves for anything to jump out and attack them.

“Ready?” Scott asked, Stiles nodding furiously next to him.

Slowly, the creature began to emerge from the woods, snarling and barking at them. The two of them took a deep breath and pounced towards the animal, stopping in their tracks when a coyote took a step into the moonlight.

“A fucking coyote?” Stiles asked, relieved that it wasn’t a dangerous, supernatural being. With a simple flash of Scott’s red eyes, the coyote whimpered and took off back into the trees.

Scott sighed, his teeth and claws reverting back to his normal human self, “I’m sorry, I was convinced it was something more…more…”

“More dangerous than a wild dog?”

“We need to look for Y/N. She’s probably hasn’t shifted back yet, so be careful” Scott instructed, starting to head off before Stiles pulled his wrist back, turning him around to reveal a dark grey wolf approach them slowly, it’s piercing blue eyes staring at them in fear.

“Y/N?” Scott asked, breathless at the sight of his twin sister fully shifted into a beautiful wolf, with the softest grey fur with pitch black streaks delicately placed in sporadic spots. There was a single white stripe along your nose and small patches of white on your paws.

“Woah, Y/N…how did you do that?” Stiles admired, bending down to your eye level.

“She can’t answer you, you dimwit” Scott reminded him, smacking his head at his sheer stupidity.

You whined, nuzzling your nose into Stiles’ palms as he stroked your fur gently.

“Can you shift back, Y/N?” Scott asked, pacing behind Stiles.

“If I could shift back, I wouldn’t be here like this right now” you thought, trying to signal to the boys.

Scott picked up on this and sighed, “Once for yes, two for no. Bark”

You barked twice, sitting down on the cold dirt, trying to scowl at the boys but failing as you were a wolf.

“No wonder, you never even fully shifted before. How did this happen?!”

“You’re asking a dog and her boyfriend, you really expect either of us to know? That’s a sentence I never thought I would say. My girlfriend is a dog…” Stiles trailed off, becoming weirded out by the thought.

Scott sighed, but started to walk towards his bike, “Stiles, would you mind taking Y/N home? I’m going to talk to Deaton, see if he knows what the hell is happening to her”

“Sure” Stiles replied, keeping an eye on you plodding along behind him before you suddenly started running off, “Y/N?!”

“She’s probably just getting her clothes…she really liked the ones she was wearing”

“Yeah well…it was date night” Stiles sighed, relief washing over him when you returned safely and started to walk beside him again, a bundle of clothes in your mouth, “You should probably let your mum know too, Scott. I’m going to take Y/N back to mine and let my dad know about the coyote”

“Fine. I’ll see you later” Scott replied quickly, revving the engine and taking off.

Stiles opened the door to Roscoe and took the clothes from your mouth, “You ok jumping in or do you need help?”

You looked at Stiles for a minute, cursing him in your mind as you easily hopped up into the front seat, curling into a ball on the cold leather whilst snuggling into Stiles’ discarded jacket.

“Well, that answered that question then” he grunted, slamming the door and hopping in the other side.

—————————————

“Hey, Stiles” Noah greeted his son as he watched the TV, “What happened to your date night with Y/N?”

“Scott called us. Thought he saw something on the mountain, but turns out it was just a coyote” he sighed, tossing the keys to Roscoe in the bowl by the front door, Noah looking back towards him.

“Where’s Y/N?”

“About that…” Stiles began, looking down towards you as you padded into the front room, looking at Noah with sad eyes.

“Holy shit!” Noah sprung up, backing away from you, “What the hell are you thinking, Stiles?! Bringing a wild animal into the house? Have you finally gone insane?!”

“Dad! Dad!” Stiles rushed to stand in front of you, “Not a wild animal”

“Then…then….what?”

“Who, Dad…who”

Noah gasped in disbelief, pointing down towards you, “Y/N?”

You poked your nose around from the back of Stiles’ leg, Noah still staring at you with his mouth wide open.

“You’re…you’re…how?”

“We don’t know. Scott went to talk to Deaton about it”

Noah bent down to your level, still trying to process the fact that you had turned into an animal. You began to whine, half scared to death, and so Noah opened his arms to embrace you. You jumped up, placing your front two paws on his shoulders and nuzzling your nose into his shoulder, feeling his hands stroke your fur gently.

“Is there any way to shift her back?” He asked Stiles, still comforting your whining form.

“The only way we know is for Y/N to do it herself, but she can’t”

You jumped off of Noah and walked out of the front room, rushing towards the bathroom. Stiles followed you protectively and sighed sympathetically when he saw you whine as you approached the toilet. You turned your head and looked back towards Stiles, letting out a long breath.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’m not helping you go to the toilet. Do you think you can…do it like…like the rest of the wolves in the world do?”

You sighed again, “I am going to kill someone”

You padded back downstairs, Stiles right behind you, passing Noah who was still stood where he was when he first saw you. You began pawing at the back door, indicating to Stiles that you really needed to go.

“Stiles I swear to god, I haven’t pissed today and the only time I get to do so is when I happen to be a fucking dog. The least you could do is hurry the fuck up”

“Alright, alright Y/N. Stop scratching the door for christ sake”

Stiles opened the door and watched as you hurried outside, running behind the large tree in the Stilinski back garden. Noah sighed, scaring Stiles slightly.

“She’s a goddamn dog, Stiles”

“No way”

“What if she can’t shift her back? Like…ever?”

“She will” Stiles stated, trying to convince himself more than his father, “There’s always a way”

——————————————————————

You jumped up on the sofa, curling into a small ball and laying your head on Stiles’ lap while watching the football game on TV.

“Hey, princess” Stiles stroked your back, running his fingers through your fur. You snuggled into him further, looking up at him with sad eyes, “How shit do you feel right now”

“I can’t answer you, Stiles. Think you stupid boy”

“You can’t answer me” he shook his head, still running his fingers through your fur. You lifted your head and looked around the room, trying to silently ask where Noah had gone.

“Where’s my dad?”

You nodded your head, laying back down onto Stiles’ lap.

“Went to the vets, wanted to help Scott and Deaton. He said he would call me if they found anything”

You sighed loudly, before jumping down off the sofa and padding over towards the table where Stiles’ phone was, grabbing it in your mouth and flinging it on his lap.

“What?” He asked, gesturing to the phone now shoved down the cushions of the sofa.

“Why else would I bring you your phone? Call them now” you thought to yourself, pushing the phone with your nose closer to Stiles.

“Want me to call them now?”

“YES!” You tried to shout, but instead, you began to whine angrily.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?!”

You continued to whine, almost to a complete howl as you got so angry and frustrated at the fact that you couldn’t talk to anyone. Stiles caught on to your frustration and picked you up, much to your surprise, and hugged you tightly. You stopped whining and began to relax, slowly laying down on top of him.

“Feel better now?” He asked finally when he felt your breathing slow down. You licked his hand and grabbed the phone again, holding it above his palm.

“Fine, ok. I’ll call them. But listen, sweetheart, don’t get your hopes up yet, ok?” He sighed, placing the phone to his ear as he called Scott, “Hey, found anything yet?…..seriously?……she’s…well she’s not coping very well”

You growled slightly, causing Stiles to chuckle slightly.

“Just find a way and fast, she’s clearly getting cross with the fact that she’s, well I don’t know, a wolf……yeah, fine….ok we’ll see you later”

Sighing, Stiles threw his phone onto the sofa and looked back at you, “Sorry”

You huffed and placed your head on the armrest of the sofa, looking back towards the football game.

“It’s getting late…Scott said they’re going to be there overnight. Dad said that he’s going to stay so we need to lock up. Want to go to bed?”

You quickly jumped off the sofa and padded towards the stairs, making Stiles giggle as he turned off all the lights downstairs. He stood at the foot of the stairs with you, noticing you hadn’t moved in a few minutes.

“You ok?”

You placed one paw on the first step and tried to begin to climb, but immediately you slipped and lost your footing, falling back to the floor with a big huff. You tried again but failed once more. After the third try, you looked up toward Stiles who had a big grin on his face and growled lowly.

“Hey big guy, please do something other than watching your girlfriend fall to the floor continually as she tries to climb a bloody flight of stairs”

“Want some help?” He asked patronisingly, wrapping his hands around you and lifting you up into his grasp, climbing the stairs as you licked his neck, making him squirm and laugh.

“Cut that out, unless you want to fall down the entire flight of stairs again”

————————————————————

You sat on the end of Stiles’ bed, watching him sleepily as he changed into a loose jersey and pyjama bottoms.

“Still nothing from Scott. Sometimes hearing back from you McCalls is a challenge in itself”

You smiled and wagged your tail, making Stiles laugh.

“I’m just going to go and brush my teeth, you get comfortable and I’ll be back in a second. We can continue date night?”

You stopped wagging your tail.

“Yeah, I regret saying that too” he deadpanned, coughing slightly, “Star Wars?”

“Not Star Wars again…anything but Star Wars”

“One for yes, two for no” he asked, frowning slightly after you barked twice, “Well, um…why don’t you pick out a DVD on the shelf and I’ll be right out”

As Stiles walked off, you huffed and plopped down onto the bed, closing your eyes. Being a wolf was hard work.

“Honey?” Stiles asked quietly, cautious that you had fallen asleep, “Y/N? You didn’t pick a film”

You groaned and curled further into a ball, making Stiles laugh and get into bed, grabbing his laptop on the way. He spent 20 minutes searching all the lore and mythology he could find on the internet, his eyes occasionally flickering to you.

“Y/N?” He asked, watching you lift your head towards him, “You don’t have to sleep at my feet like my pet dog. As weird as it feels right now, you’re still my girlfriend”

He lifted his duvet up to reveal the empty space in his double bed where you usually sleep. You stood up and stretched, wagging your tail before lying down next to him, placing your head on his chest.

“Much better” Stiles said, kissing your wet nose and stroking the fur on your back. He stopped momentarily and looked at you, your eyes opening and meeting his.

“This is so weird. I can’t believe I’m in love with a goddamn animal” he chuckled at your frown, “But, I still love you. So much”

You stretched your neck up towards him and licked his cheek, “I love you too”

——————————————————————

The sunlight shone through the curtains the next morning and Stiles continued stroking your back, just the way he had done when the two of you fell asleep. He stirred and opened his eyes slowly, smiling as he looked down at your beautiful Y/C/H hair.

“Hair?”

His eyes snapped open fully, sitting up just enough so as not to jolt you too much as you slept peacefully. He looked over your soft skin, his hand tracing down your arms. He shifted slightly, tensing when he felt you fully exposed.

“Y/N?” He whispered, shaking your arm slightly.

“Five more minutes” you mumbled before sighing and snuggling further into his grip.

“I heard that” he smiled, starting to giggle when he saw your beautiful eyes snap open, just how his had moments ago. You moved your head upwards to look towards Stiles, his smile bigger than ever. He leant down and kissed you gently, cupping your face to pull you closer to him.

“I have been waiting so long to do that” he whispered as he pulled away.

“I was a wolf for a night”

“Yeah, our date night”

“Well,” you smiled, leaning back up to kiss him again, “I guess we better make up for it tonight”

“Oh yeah, Chinese and Star Wars”

“Oh god, anything but Star Wars, please!” You laughed, “We should call Scott, let him know I’m human again”

“I’ll do it in a few minutes” he leant down, kissing you again while you wrapped your arm around his torso and pulled him closer. When you pulled away, you only then realised that you were fully naked, “Can I…?”

“Oh! Yeah sure” he laughed, pulling his t-shirt off to give to you. Just as he pulled it over his head, Noah burst into the room, making the three of you scream, all for different reasons. You pulled the duvet up to cover you completely, Stiles stuttering next to you to try and form some sort of explanation.

Noah coughed and looked anywhere other than at the two of you.

“Please tell me you used protection”

#stiles #stiles x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles one shot #stiles imagine #stiles stilinski x reader #teen wolf #Scott #Scott McCall #Scott x reader #Scott McCall x reader #teen wolf one shot #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf x reader #reader insert

171 notes · View notes

rohobi · 6 years

Text

Pulse 03 | (m)

COUNT: 8k Words CHAPTER SUMMARY: ❝There are wounds that never show on the human body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.❞ LISTEN ▶

↳ INDEX → CHAPTER 4

↣ SEOUL HEARTS HOSPITAL | Dr. Kim Taehyung

Changing into a new pair of blue scrubs in the bathroom, Taehyung asks himself at which point did everything in his life go wrong. He was so tired. So fucking tired and so fucking unhappy and so fucking miserable. He’s been hiding it behind a smile, burying it deep within him.

A pain like no other.

He scrubs his face with a cleanser he thinks belongs to Dr. Yoongi, hoping that it might make him feel grounded in something other than misery. But no matter how hard he scrubs, the feeling’s still there.

Like scum.

Patting his face dry with a white face cloth, he takes a deep breath. It might as well tattoo itself across his face, nothing could take it away. Sadness made its home in his bones a long time ago and now he was living with the consequences of it.

The memories of a happy life he once had, grew into shards of glass over time, cutting him up in the inside. Why can’t he go back to that time? Why can’t he be that person he was? Why does he feel so damn guilty all the time when he was just trying to be a good son for a mother who’s on her way out?

The wounds he sustained, ripped open at every reminder of you, are his worst enemy to date. He wonders if his mother’s aware that everytime he smiles, the ingenuity of pretending to be happy tastes like rotten fruit on his tongue.

He could never be happy again, as neurotic as that sounds, he doesn’t think he deserves to be.

He hates himself.

Staring at his face in the mirror, he takes another deep breath as he stands up straight. He adjusts the lapels of his pristine white coat while brushing his teeth with his other hand. At least he enjoyed his job, the patients were usually older adults who reminded him of his grandmother, it was nice being around people who liked him. Lots of broken bones.

It was ironic, a doctor who could mend broken body parts for other people, lived uncomfortably with a broken heart.

One he broke himself.

One he could never mend on his own. Taehyung wondered if he would get any category one acute surgeries tonight. He loved the cases from ED. Traumatic neck of femur fractures -the greater trochanter fracture in particular were fun, he enjoyed being the specialist whenever he ran down. He loved the spinal injuries and the tibial fractures, knees and shoulders.

Bones. He loved them. It was the best distraction from life that he knew. Taehyung had always been really interested in Emergency Medicine but he could never do it, knowing it was your speciality and knowing you’d never want to see him again.

He tried to respect that, he tried to respect the distance you wanted but sometimes, he just wants to know if you're okay. If you're happy. If you're loved. If you ever kept his child. If someone took up the space in your life that he used to. He's too afraid to act on those curiosities, to cowardly to come forth, too ashamed in himself for letting people control him, too ashamed for never standing up for himself, too afraid of the consequences his family offered if he did not follow their orders. He was a coward. Rinsing his mouth out, he frowns at himself in the mirror. This was the real him, the real Taehyung, the real person who never put up a pretence, someone who was unhappy and in pain every single day. But who else wasn't in pain. He adjusts the red, blue and green pens in his front coat pocket and wraps the bright red stethoscope from his pocket, around his neck. He turns the light off before closing the door behind him. Checking his pager, he clips it on to the waistband of his pants before pushing through the doors with his shoulder. Dr. Yoongi, Taehyung’s bestfriend, waits in the hallway for him with a coffee and an apricot danish for Taehyung. “Morning loser,” Yoongi says, handing him a bag and a coffee, “Got you a coffee that resembles your taste in woman.” "Morning? It's like 8pm," Taehyung smiles, sipping the bitter tasting beverage. “Yuck, Yoongi, my taste in women is not bitter.” Yoongi smiles. “You know, she called me last night, told me you hadn’t come home in a month, that true?” Sighing, he rolls his eyes. “I sent over the divorce papers, I’m only going back there if it’s to pick up those signed documents.” “Sounds about right,” Snorting, Yoongi wraps his arm around his shoulders. “You’ll finally be free from her? How do your parents feel about letting you loose?” “I haven’t told them yet,” Taehyung looks away from Yoongi, gesturing to start walking to work. “I’m pretty sure they’ll disown me. Anyway, enough of that, ready for a good night?” “Sure, we’ll talk about it later," Yoongi sips his own coffee. "I’m more than ready for a good shift actually. I've slept for 12 hours. Had to lecture the new guppies about social hierarchy yesterday, I swear they get loopy when they have rotations at Forest Lake. What are they putting in the water that makes them dumb?” “I don't know, whatever you’re drinking,” Biting into his pastry, Taehyung smiles wickedly at the blonde boy as he marches down the clean white hallway towards the Orthopaedic medical doctors office.

* * *

They stand in the office, preparing to do rounds on the ward. Taehyung’s looking at the list of patients he needs to visit experiencing post-operative delirium and constipation. He has students working with him tonight and Taehyung was fully prepared to dump his workload on them for “experience”.

Yoongi is signing discharge letters for patients leaving in the morning, writing prescriptions for pain relief and documenting orders for the morning nurses. The ward was quiet this evening, leaving a settled and peaceful evening for the nurses on shift but Taehyung wasn’t about to use the ‘q’ word in front of them.

“Shall we see our patients now?” Taehyung smiles, grouping up his 6 tired orienting medical students. “Why are you looking at me like that guys? Doctors rounds are fun and educational.”

“At this time?” One of his students snort laughs. “Not on this ward, it’s just old people-

-shut up Taemin,” a short girl says, she crosses her hands over here chest, rolling her eyes at the boy as she does. “You’re being disrespectful. Dr. Taehyung, please lets visit our patients. Quicker we can do this, quicker we can go home,” Younggi smiles up at him, “And I’d personally really love to see their progress.”

“Jesus Christ,” Yoongi curses under his breath. "Fucking brown noser."

The student ignores Yoongi as she stares back down at her black leather loathers.

“Every patient is your grandmother, try to think like that,” Hitting the top of Taemin’s head with his clipboard, Taehyung instructs a third student to push the trolley of patient files with them as all 6 students follow him down the ward hallway. Taehyung discards his coffee in the rubbish bin on the way. “Okay, because I know you all want to go home and sleep, let’s work in a team. Sound good?”

They all smile. Walking over to the trolley, he gives each of them a patient file. “What do you want us to do with these?”

“There’s six of you, pair up,” he says, watching them look at each other in confusion. “One of you will be assessing and the other will be scribing. You have two patients each, remember to switch.”

Taehyung folds his arms over his chest, they all look at him scared. “Oh come on, when my best friend in med school was in third year, below all of you, she was diagnosing aneurysms and scrubbing in on operations and you guys can barely talk to a patient without crawling in on yourselves. Get a grip, all of you.”

“But ...without you?” Taemin asks. “Can we do that?”

“I’ve worked with all six of you this month. Closely and together as a group. You’ve all grown so much and I believe that you all will make exceptional doctors. Believe in yourselves?” he says, watching them all smile, “So, look at the patient files for five minutes before going in, be polite and think before you speak. If you can't answer their questions, use your confidence and come and get me. I hope that doesn't actually happen though because you all should know the answers. Go on now.”

They all smile at him, clearly happy with the assignment.

“God, Taehyung,” Yoongi groans from behind him. “You still do that? You treat them like babies. That's why they get dumb.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes as he watches the students head off to their retrospective patients. He’d given them all stable patients who had questions regarding the postoperative process. Nothing they can’t answer but it was always a confidence booster for his students and he loved seeing them go home happy.

“Yoongi, this is why I am the educator on this ward and you’re an asshole,” Taehyung picks out the last couple of folders before walking into the 4 patient room, handing one to Yoongi.

Yoongi sanitises his hands, pulling out his favourite black pen before following him in into the cubical.

Yoongi watches Taehyung sweeten up to the old lady covered in a mountain of blankets as he reads over her notes. “It’s lovely to see you again Dr. Taehyung, how are you?” she smiles, gazing up at Taehyung like he was the sun and she was the moon. Yoongi watches his little hands rub up and down on her purple, green and pink crochet blanket on top of her. “I’m better now that I have seen you,” he winks and she laughs softly. “I’m here to talk to you about your bowels. The nurses tell me you haven’t moved your bowels since the operation three days ago.” “Ooh my dear, a lady never does number 2 and tells,” She widens her eyes at him. “But yes, I have not. Those wicked nurses have been trying to get me out of bed, I’m just too old for this, doctor. It hurts too much.” Taehyung sits on her bed, cupping her hands. “They’re doing that for you. Exercise is good for recovery, especially since you’ve had a hip replacement. Quicker you’re up, quicker you can go home and be with your kittens.” “Oh is it?” she opens her mouth in a little ‘o’ that makes Taehyung giggle. "My kittens, oh I miss them terribly so." “Do you usually take medication for your bowels?” he asks and she shakes her head. “How about we try some?” She frowns. “I’m not taking any more of your pills doctor. I'm quite content with my remedies but the nurses won't let me take my herbal remedies and rubbing crystals. What can I do?” “Some of your remedies can have a dangerous effect on the medication we give you here, that’s why you can’t take them,” Unwrapping his stethoscope from around his neck, he smiles softly. “What about kiwifruit?" "What about kiwifruit?" “Kiwicrush. It’s a little shot of kiwifruit that helps you move your bowels, it's like a natural remedy, I assure you that it tastes very good,” he informs her, she nods hesitantly. “I’m going to listen to your stomach now, my stethoscope is a bit cold so don't be surprised okay?" "Okay," She nods again. "I'll try the fruit doctor." "Good, Yoongi please make a note of that," Placing the diaphragm of his stethoscope on her abdomen, he listens for any present bowel sounds. Yoongi draws a little picture of abdomen in her files as he examines her, watching Taehyung’s face for an answer. Taehyung frowns, shaking his head for Yoongi. Yoongi then draws a cross through it. Yoongi writes the prescription in her drug chart for kiwicrush and signs her notes before closing them and slipping out of the cubical to tend to the last patient in the room for him. “Everything okay?” she asks, a worried expression drawn across her face. “You frowned, am I dying?” “Oh don’t be silly,” Clasping her hands again, he smiles tenderly. “It’s just that I am a bit worried about your bowels at the moment, and getting you up seems to be the best option right now. I’m going to ask the nurses to give you some pain relief before getting you up tomorrow morning, just so it’s a little easier for you and then, I’m going to ask you to give it your best shot. Mobilising will be very good for your stomach Maurine.” “You sound like the nurse,” She laughs, smacking the top of his warm hand. “I’ll try for you. So, please, call me mama. I’m too damn old to be called anything else.” Standing up, he lifts the blankets up to her shoulders, making sure her toes are covered the way he knows she likes. He turns off the overhead light, leaving a small night light on for her. “Alright mama, you have a pleasant sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.” She hums her response as she turns her attention to the window beside her. She stares at the moon with a gaze he can only describe as suddenly haunting as the soft hues of light accentuate an unspoken fear drawn across her face, something Taehyung feels uncomfortable about. “What are you staring at mama?” he whispers, following her gaze out the window. "Are you okay?" "I am okay for now," Standing by the window, he presses his hand to the cold surface as he feels the wind brush against the surface underneath his palm. She laughs softly under her breath from behind him. “It’s a full moon. The wolves are out howling for blood. I’d be careful on such an auspicious night Dr. Taehyung, who knows what might happen.” He turns back to her. “It’s always an auspicious night when one is in a hospital mama, anything could happen here too.” Leaving her cubicle, he pushes the hand sanitiser on the wall into his palm, rubbing the dollop into his hands as he walks down the hallway. “You know, the other patients call her a witch,” Yoongi says, walking beside him with the trolley, patient file on top as he hurries with writing the last note. “Her notes say that she chants under her breath at people, gave me the shivers reading it but you seem close with her, so good for you. If you get hexed, let me know.” “You shouldn’t talk about people like that Yoongi,” Taehyung laughs, walking towards the nurses station. “You’ll be the one hexed. So, what was that patient's primary concern?”

Looking back at the notes, Yoongi says. “Another patient needing laxatives. Typical for this ward. I don’t know why you don’t just prescribe laxatives post operatively anyway. Saves so much time.” Taehyung shrugs, leaning against the station. “I would if it were me doing it. It’s Dr. Minho. He thinks the best laxative is water and exercise.” Yoongi snorts. “He sounds out of touch with real patients.” “He’s a good doctor Yoongi.” “We’re all good doctors until we’re proven that we are not.” Settling in the nurses station, Yoongi starts nibbling at the cake the nurses left out, as Taehyung leans against the station. It was dark, the nurses had turned off the hallway lights so patients could settle to bed. The nurses station was empty as nurses eat their dinner in the fishbowl behind it. Their laughter flutters nicely out from their office into the long empty hallways. Taehyung’s ward was the only department in the hospital who did night doctors rounds. It was the only department in a rush to discharge people, shift them back home for recovery and it was good for student practice. “Dr Minho’s on tonight, floating between orthopaedics and urology by the way. You in ED tonight?” Taehyung asks, “I hear it’s been really busy down there.” “I’m the floater tonight,” Yoongi shakes his head. “We’ve got too many staff on down there. Too many damn know-it-all students too.” "Isn't that good though for the acuity?" he asks and Yoongi rolls his eyes. Looking over Taehyung’s shoulder, Yoongi sighs. "Speaking of the devils." The first lot of students walk towards Taehyung, file outstretched waiting for his signature to co-sign. “Younggi,” Taehyung says, reading over her exceptional penmanship. “Next time, just draw the lungs if you assess them. What is your plan? What do you want the nurses to do?” She smiles, looking at her partner. “Regular repositioning in bed, PRN asthma medications when symptomatic and lots of pillows for comfort.” "As if they aren't doing that already," Yoongi snorts behind Taehyung. "Your kids need to spend a week with the nurses, that'll make ‘em work." All the students arrive back and Taehyung reads through their notes, signing his name at the bottom. Congratulating them on their first lot of assessments. “Now, that is how we’ll do our night rounds from now on. In the morning however, it will be different. I will be assessing your assessment skills on morning ward rounds. One at a time, in front of all of us." They all groan. “Oh shut up, if you don’t like it, drop out,” Yoongi cackles, “You with the orange hair, put the folders back in the office and if you groan again, I’ll steal the muffin I saw in your backpack you had on earlier.”

Taemin, the boy with the orange hair, disappears to do so. "God," Taehyung says, yawning into the crook of his arm, "Why is it so settled tonight?" Yoongi laughs. "Trying to avoid the q word?"

"What's the q word?" a student asks. Know it all Younggi fills her in. "It means quiet, he's asking why it's so quiet tonight." Taehyung sinks against the station, dropping his head onto his hands, a loud groan falling from his lips as Yoongi leans up and smacks his head. "You didn't tell your stupid fucking kids not to say that word did you? Great." "Did I say something wrong Dr. Taehyung?" she asks, insecurity suddenly plaguing her usually confident demeanor. Taehyung stands up, turning to face her. "That word is a cursed word. We don't use it here."

"Oh. I'm sorry?" Re-emerging with his phone in his hand, Taehyung gasps loudly as Taemin walks towards him, face focused on his phone. He was 100% against students using phones on the ward at all times, often challenging them to stay engaged. “Taemin, you know the rules, I don't like phones on the ward- -you're gonna wanna hear this though. A code black has been triggered at Forest Lakes Hospital,” he looks up at the two senior doctors, suddenly pale faced. “My girlfriend’s a nurse there and she’s just texted me “FLH called a code black, it's not a drill, I am fine.” oh god.” "What's a code black?" one of the students asks much to the chagrin of the other students. "That some sort of medical emergency alarm bell?" Taehyung and Yoongi trade vacant looks. “What?” “It’s probably just a drill,” Yoongi says, picking his nails. “They always do them over there. They’re close to a military camp, lots of North Korean defectors get treated there. A code black is a bomb threat kids."

Taemin looks up at Yoongi. “With all due respect, there is no way in hell that this is a drill. Look,” Turning his phone screen to Taehyung, a picture of ambulances rushing patients out, all wearing equally terrified facial expressions as they pile in the back of the trucks. “They’re evacuating people.”

“Are you sure you aren’t being pranked?” Younggi asks, hovering over his phone to check. Taehyung watches her double tap the picture, her face suddenly growing pale.

“Doesn’t look like a prank does it?” Taemin whispers and they all watch her retreat back as she shakes her head.

And then, all of their phones vibrate, pinging with texts, tweets and calls.

All 8 of them, pull out their phones.

Yoongi and Taehyung’s pagers go off. Ward phones start ringing. Grabbing his phone out of his coat pocket, Taehyung opens the first notification on the screen and the picture makes his heart stop; a wing of the hospital was on fire. A wing of your hospital was on fire. “Dr. Yoongi,” a nurse runs out, all the nurses following behind her. “Did you check your pager? Am I calling it in?” “Call it in please. Get your manager to remove all the patients in this ward. Orthopaedics is the mass casualty ward for this hospital kids. Whoever is the ward co-ordinator tonight in the nursing team, call all the other nurses, get them to come in immediately and cancel every single elective operation scheduled for tomorrow,” Yoongi says, reading his pager. "I want this ward cleared of patients within half an hour. I assume from the distance, patients will be arriving soon. So, let's do this quickly and properly according to your emergency protocol." “Why do we need to remove all the patients?” a student asks and Yoongi frowns at him. “Victims do better psychologically and physiologically where other victims are. Hence, why we need to get everyone out now and get the ward prepared for incoming patients.” “How many do you think we will get?” he asks again, his eyes widening in fear. Looking up to all the students and nurses pooling out from their office. Taehyung's hands suddenly begin to tremble by his side. “In this case, probably a lot.” “But you never know.” His heart begins to pound harshly against his ribs. Adrenaline surged down his body at the prospect of all those incoming patients; at the thought of you being in that building. “Text your families that you're okay.” Yoongi announces, pulling him out of his thoughts. Putting his pager in his pocket. Looking up to each and every nervous face in front of him, he grabs the department phone, immediately pressing the emergency number and holding it up to his ear. His hands are shaking but the only one who notices is Taehyung as a voice loudly screams into the receiver. Everyone in the room watches Yoongi's eyes widen and his head nod before hanging up again. "Fuck, it's real. All of you go, get ready. Remove these patients and clear this fucking ward right fucking now." "What about us?" Younggi asks, as the ward lights turn back on and nurses begin to frantically run around them. "What do we do?" “Text your families right now, none of you are going home tonight." ↣ FOREST LAKES HOSPITAL | Dr. Y/N The first blast hit the far west side of the hospital, where the VIP recovery ward was located, as you had run back into the dark and desolate, abandoned looking Emergency Department. You could smell the fire, you could even see it’s smoke boil up from the building in the northern windows of the ER. You ran harder. You were panting, completely solely running on adrenaline.

Your heart raced out of your skin as you looked in every room. In every bay. In every office. You were running completely on instinct and your instincts were telling you, someone was left behind. And you don’t leave people behind. No, not you. The force of the blast rumbled the entire floor, it was weak, a warning of what was yet to come and had you not been standing by an empty bed, it would have knocked you clean off your feet. Falling onto the white bed, plaster from the ceiling fell and the room seeped into darkness as the electricity completely cut out. No generator back up or anything provided you with a light to see in the dark either.

You coughed into your hand as you inhaled the plaster.

“Hello, is anybody here?” you had screamed, coughing as you run through the hallway you’ve memorised by heart. “We don’t have much time, is anyone here?”

A voice muffled behind a door screams loud and clear out for you as they bang their fists on the hard wood. “PLEASE SOMEONE, I’M STILL IN HERE!” You were right. "HELP ME, I’M STILL HERE, OH GOD I’M STILL IN HERE, HELP ME PLEASE! DON’T LEAVE ME!” Running down another hall, you hear a terrified scream from behind the controlled drug room. Someone remained like you had thought, banging on the door for their dear life. The door shook from the sheer force of their desperation to get out but the lock made it impossible to break free. “I’m still here,” they sobbed, banging on the other side of the door, “Please save me.” You don’t think as you run towards it, punching in the code for the room and forcing the door open with all of your might. The doctor on the other side had tears down his face, falling straight into you. It was Jungkook. Idiot doctor and housemate, your Jungkook. "Y/N," he sobbed, looking completely broken. "I thought I was going to die." “Well, I’m glad you’re alive and all but we need to go, right now." He looked distraught and terrified, but of all, he looked relieved. Grabbing his hand, you run with every inch of strength you can muster out, of that goddamn building. He holds your hand tightly, practically dragging you as he runs faster, jumping over shattered glass and plaster.

You hold images of Sunny in your mind as you pick your feet up. You hold the sound of her laughter and her cries, her singing, her screaming. You think of Taehyung, his smile, his embrace, his warmth. You think of a life you still think you can have. You think of punching Taehyung in the jaw when you see him next, you couldn’t die today knowing you haven’t. No, not today satan.

You run towards the clearing. And the automatic doors... ...they don't open. “What the fuck, why won’t they open?” you ask, waving your hand up to the monitor. “Fuck, I thought these would open in an emergency?” Jungkook bangs against the glass. Jimin and Seokjin look up, prompted by the loud banging. Ramming his shoulder into the glass, it doesn't budge. He throws everything close to him at the doors, again, it doesn't budge. They’re stuck. Irene holds back the boys from running over to help you. They had parked on the far end of the carpark to be safe as they waited. You both stare at the red lights of the ambulance in the night. “We need something heavy to smash it.” you say, “We’ll get out, don’t worry.” “How can I not fucking worry?” Jungkook shouts, throwing himself at the glass doors. “It’s just fucking glass, why won’t it break?” “It’s shatterproof material Jungkook.” Looking for an emergency button on the doors and falling short, “I’m going to find the emergency axe thing Jungkook, keep trying to pry it open okay?”

You were certain that there was an emergency axe somewhere, you had seen it before and wondered if you'd ever need to use it and for what. Slipping on blood, you fall to the floor as the ground continues to shake beneath you. "Where is it, come on Y/N, think." Getting up again, you run to the hallway leading off to the operating theatres and that's where you find the axe, contained in a glass box, nailed to the wall by a fire extinguisher. Punching the glass, it's splinters piercing your knuckles, you grab the axe. You were certain that when this adrenaline stops fuelling your attempts to survive, everything is going to hurt. But you don't have time to think about that as you run back. Jungkook's running into the doors, kicking and screaming at it, continuously bruising his shoulder. “I’m not dying in this fucking building.” "Jungkook," you shout, he turns, eyes glinting in happiness at the sight of the axe. "I have no strength, you smash it." He takes it happily, immediately hacking at the door. "I need to get out." he chants, each time the axe hits the doors. "I'm not dying today." The axe cracks the glass but it doesn't shatter like you thought it would. He hits it again and again, only cracking it. “What the hell is this fucking thing made of?” "Jungkook," Turning to survey your area, you grab anything hard enough to throw through the glass. "Jungkook, move out of the way." "What?" He turns, watching you throw a vital signs machine straight into the cracked glass with a strength you didn’t think you had, shattering it completely. He watches in slow motion as the glass shatters and falls to the linoleum floor. He screams happily as he throws the axe into the reception to their left. He grabs your hand as you run over the ocean of glass pooling onto the sidewalk as you both run into the carpark. The ambulance was so close, yet so far away. The fresh air hits your lungs as you breath it in and then out. You were free. You would be okay too.

Jungkook turns to you, smiling widely at you. “I’m free!” "Kim Seokjin! Park Jimin!" you scream, running towards them, "Open the back doors!" But they never hear you, and that you are grateful for because what happens next would've definitely hurt him too.

The second blast hit as you were running out of the building with Jeon Jungkook. The force of this blast, much bigger than the first, had thrown you in the air and onto the soft grass by the car park, metres away from the now swaying ambulance, winding you. Jungkook had fallen onto the hard concrete pavement of the carpark beside you, hands falling on shards of broken glass, blood dripping from his forehead. He screams in agony, feeling the bone of his arm break and tear through his skin on impact. Black coloured smoke rushes out of the burning building, covering you and Jungkook in a cloak of silent darkness. It chokes you, filling your lungs with it’s painful toxin as you try to breathe. Jungkook looks at you, expression pleading, lips moving to form words you can’t understand. Everything is blurry and dark and deep and your falling into yourself as black spots fill your visual field. You can’t hear anything but a loud ringing in your ears, you can hear the faint scream of Jungkook at the back of your brain but you can't process what he's saying. He looks at you desperately, is he hurt? That's a stupid question. You know you should get up but you feel compressed, stuck to the ground, and you can’t breathe, feeling winded as though your lungs had lost their ability to take in oxygen. You try to get up, falling back to the ground. Were you hurt too? You look over to Jungkook again, watching him battle his demons, forcing himself to get up and to you. You watch as if it were in slow motion as Jungkook pulls himself up, rushing over to you as he cradles his left arm in his now dirty white coat. There’s a god awful whirlpool of horror in his brown eyes as he runs over to you, you may have saved him but he definitely earned it because he saves you right back. You pull yourself up as much as you can before his arm wraps around your waist, holding you up as you both run to the ambulance. You look back at the building, still standing with flames and smoke boiling out the windows. You knew it wouldn’t last long until it collapsed or forced to the ground by another and much larger explosion. You didn’t want to be here for that. Blood dripped from your ears and down the sides of your soot covered face, building materials you couldn’t identify laced through your hair, shards of glass embedded into the skin of your arms. You felt like you had been punched in every soft part of your body. Jungkook looked equally as dishevelled. Waving you both over, Jimin and Irene rush you both into the back as Seokjin revved the engine. Minutes pass of complete silence as you rush. Isn’t that weird, after something so huge, there was just silence? No piercing screams, no sirens, no pleas for help, just fire, fear and silence. Pulling themselves in first, Irene and Jimin sit opposite each other, strapping themselves in. The third blast hit when you were trying to close the doors behind you. The blast wave hit the truck, pushing you into the back of the truck, shattering the windows, prompting Seokjin’s immediate acceleration as Jungkook toppled straight on top of you.

The glass from the window narrowly missed the intubated patient on a stroller in the middle of the ambulance, but it cuts across Irene's cheek, something she'll probably need stitches for. She wails in agony, holding a hand against her cheek, immediately applying pressure to the wound as dark red blood dripped down her neck and onto her scrubs.

Jungkook was afraid of letting you go, and for that, he saved you again. The doors slapped against the sides of the ambulance as Jin speed through the carpark and as far away from the hospital as he could. You wrap your arms around Jungkook’s waist tightly as he held onto anything that would keep you both in the ambulance as it sped away. His dead arm curled up painfully against your chest underneath him as Jin's abrupt driving makes you swing underneath him towards the other side of the truck causing shards of glass to tear through your coat as you do. You scream in agony, feeling the shards slice and embed into the flesh of your ass. It’s sweltering, a burning pain filling you by waves as it rolls over you, over and over again. You were hurt everywhere.

"Are you okay Y/N?" Jimin shouts at you. You clasp onto Jungkook tighter, eyebrows flexed as pain tears through your body. “Hold onto him, we’ll get you out of here!” Jungkook sobs, wailing in pure agony. The sound breaks Jimin as he watches, the once strong Jungkook, completely break and fall apart. "It's collapsing!" Irene shouts and you all look back to watch in horror as the sound of destruction echoes across the night sky. "The hospital. Our homes. You guys could've ...that was so close." she sobs loudly, feeling the horror of what could've been you two so deeply into her bones. “Drive faster,” Jimin screams, hitting the back of the front seat. Jungkook and Irene watch the orange flames burst from black clouds of smoke, as the hospital collapses from the emergency exit they just left, “Drive fucking faster Seokjin!” He presses his foot on the accelerator with sirens blasting and red lights flashing through the graphite night as he zips away. “I’m driving as fast as I fucking can!” Irene screams when he skids around a corner, her head hitting the wall hard as he drives straight through the car park entrance sign. The sound was like nothing she had ever heard before when she looks to her right, the once dark night now full of orange light as the fire boils and consumes her home away from home. It was haunting, something Irene would never forget.

They had only just gotten away from the building in time when fire began to rain down onto the trees, there would no doubt be a forest fire too. Everyone would be working overtime tonight. “Irene, are you okay?” Jimin asked, watching her rub the back of her head. She pulls her hand back, fingers covered in blood. Grabbing one of the only packets of gauze from beside him, he clears his throat. “Hold these to your head and hold on tight to your chair okay? We’re going to be fine.” She pants, biting her bottom lip. “Are you sure?” Jimin looks at everyone in the ambulance, he doesn't think he should dignify that question with a response, you were all safe now. “Go, Seokjin! Get us out of here!” Jungkook yelled, as he sunk his head into the crevice of your neck. “Get us to the hospital!” How you both hadn’t died was a mystery. Irene and Jimin pull you both further in by the collars of your coats, dragging your glass covered bodies further into the ambulance when Jin drives over a bridge, forced to slow down. "Irene, grab Jungkook," Jimin says, watching her pull Jungkook up beside her, strapping him into the seat. Pulling you up, he forces you into the seat beside him as he sobs. "Y/N, I've got you. You're okay now, you're okay now." He holds you close, telling you something you can’t hear but he's crying and he's crying hard. He looks like a wreck.

Holding your hands up to his checks, you wipe away his tears only to smear blood and soot across his face, he leans into your warmth. At least the sentiment was there. “Jimin, I have no idea what you are saying,” you think you shout, dropping your hands and leaning against him. The blood dripping down your right ear stains his green scrubs. “The barotrauma ...I think I have a ruptured eardrum in my right ear. Left feels like it’s resolving. I can only just hear you kind of.” He nods, red eyes sweep over yours. “I’m very glad you’re safe” he mouths and you smile softly up at him, glad you are too. Jimin hands you a bottle of water as he pulls out the first aid kit to attend to the cuts on your face. "Call Yoongi, tell him you're okay. I know he's probably worried." Jimin smiles, lips quivering. "I did, he was scared, still is I bet. The phone cut out during the second explosion, I'm just going to have to wait to see him at the hospital." "What? I can't hear you? Did you call him? yes or no?” Jimin nods, gesturing for you to drink the water. You looked worse for wear with your bloodied and blackened white coat; ripped, crimson stained scrubs; messy hair tied in a loose ponytail; and soot covered face but you were okay. You were feeling okayish. Drinking the water, you sag against him. Jimin dabs your fingers, brushing his fingers over your pulse, completely thankful you still had one. You look out the ambulance window to see your hospital, the once tall white and green structure, up in flames. All those years of hardwork, patients you’ve saved, lives you’ve lost, friends you’ve made, memories you’ve cherished. All gone. Seemingly in the blink of an eye.

You suddenly want to cry.

Today wasn’t a normal day at all. As you drink the last of your water, you feel your left ear pop and then you hear the unmistakable sound of the ambulances sirens and Irene shouting at Jungkook and Jimin shouting at Seokjin to update the hospital. You could hear and you wish you couldn't. Everything happened at a lightening speed, as though it all occurred within the single blink of your eyes. Seokjin pulls out the radio, bringing it to his lips as he speeds through the intersection, sirens blazing. “Seoul Hearts hospital, this is Ambulance 22 Kim Seokjin speaking. We are currently enroute to your facility with a 32 y/o male motor vehicle accident victim from Forest Lakes. Patient is unconscious, intubated and-

-yes, we came from Forest Lakes," he stops, listening attentively to the voice on the other end that you can't quite hear. "Mass casualties ...how many have you already got?" "32?!" he shouts, "We'll you're about to get three more- He then scoffs into the radio. “Don’t interrupt me. I have nurses Park Jimin and Bae Irene, Drs. Jeon Jungkook and Y/N who are injured- “Yes, I know the hospital has just blown up, I’m looking at it in my rearview mirror right now, we have two injured doctors in the back of the ambulance as well! Possible internal trauma, possible broken extremities,” he snaps, frustration ebbed into his voice, “We are unable to take current accurate vital signs of the patient and the doctors but our patient is unstable as hell. I'll update you if things change. See you in 5 minutes.”

He slams the radio back down. ��Buckle up kids, we’re driving through the city now. Y/N,” Seokjin shouts from the front, “You good?” You nod, feeling your hearing fully come back in your left ear. “I think so?” "Good, you crazy fucking bitch, don’t you ever fucking do that again or I’ll cut your legs off." You're all staring out the back of the ambulance, watching the reactions of the public move out the way for Jin and gape at the very mangled up looking ambulance. It's almost a spiritual experience being in this position, having people responsibly move out of the way for you as you zip impossibly fast through red lights and traffic. "How's the patient doing?" you turn and ask Jimin, who had been watching you the entire time. His face pale. "What’s his vitals looking like?" "What?" Jimin shakes his head, forcing himself back into reality. "Um, I haven't checked. Hold on." You watch his heart monitor, the vital sign of life beat after beat after beat. You frown at a particular beat as it moves. "His hearts not looking too good," you point out. "It's not often but his hearts skipping a couple beats." "After everything, I would expect that too. We're just lucky he hasn't got a serious cardiac illness otherwise, he's fucked." Jimin says, shifting beside you. You watch him try to breathe. It was an insidious reminder of your responsibility to save this man. He was dangling by threads, he was so close to death. You look away from the numbers on his screen. You stare at your soot covered hands. That could’ve been you. “Seokjin,” you shout, “How far away are we from Seoul Hearts?” “A couple of minutes,” he shouts back at you, “You don’t need to shout at me you know!”

“I can’t hear anything well,” you say, pointing to your ear and the dried blood around it. “I think the blast burst my right eardrum.” Irene laughs suddenly, smacking her thigh. “I hate to laugh but consider yourself lucky it was just that. When you ran back in, I didn’t think we’d see you again. Jimin ...he-” “I thought I lost you,” Jimin interrupts, not wanting to relive those moments of his life. “You’re stupid but you’re incredibly brave saving Jungkook like that. How did you even know he was in there?” “I had a feeling someone was still in there, that’s just it,” you nod, looking over to Jungkook. The boy looked frightened as hell. “He would’ve saved me too, that’s for sure.” Jungkook stays silent, eyes wide as he tenses his jaw. You watch him cradle his arm, was he hurt? Jimin looks at him, shaking his head. “She saved your life Jungkook, you could’ve died back there. Why do you consistently and constantly go against your superiors instructions? What is wrong with you- -I got locked in the drug room!” he shouts back at Jimin, “It locked behind me when Namjoon asked me to clear it, she only found me because I was screaming for my fucking life. You think I don’t already know that I could’ve died back there, I know okay! I know it very well. I called my parents while I was holding a vial of fucking ketamine, I apologised for being a shit, I told them that I was locked in a room and that I was going to die. You think I wanted to hear my mother cry?” “Jungkook,” Jimin musters, unsure what to say, “I’m sorry, I- “-I was going to swallow it, you know. With the first sign of fire, I was going to kill myself. My girlfriend ...all I could tell her was that I was sorry that I loved her… I could’ve died back there, I could’ve seriously died back there.” Jimin crosses his arms over his chest. "But you didn't because she ran back- -and saved my life." Jungkook finishes. “Oh shut up both of you,” Irene shouts, “Pick up your damn phone and tell your family, you didn’t die already. Who knows what they’re doing thinking you’re dead. Hell, if I loved you, I would be driving out here right now to try and get you out.” “Seokjin,” You ignore their discussion as you gaze back at your patient. “Are we close?” “I’m driving as fast as I can with my sirens on, Y/N,” he shouts back clearly agitated, “Just focus on monitoring your patient. And Jimin, shut up and please Irene, fucking deal with Jungkook’s arm instead of pissing him off. It looks bent as fuck from the rear-view mirror. The kid is obviously hurt psychologically and physically, stop being assholes and be compassionate.” “You’re hurt?” Irene gasps, her voice now dripping in sympathy. Her bloodied fingers reach out for him. He lets her tender touch explore the mangled arm from underneath his coat. “It’s broken. How did this happen?” You snort. “Besides the hospital blowing up and the waves that were emitted from the explosion travelling at a supersonic velocity straight through us, throwing us in the air with all that glass and onto hard concrete and debris?” “I fell on it,” he says, watching Irene open up the bag on the floor. She nods her head. “You hurt anywhere else?” He shakes his head, letting her dab the wounds on his face with saline and gauze. It’s quiet again as she works his wounds, there’s not much she can do with his arm trapped in his coat like that, he’s just going to have to wait. Irene hands Jungkook her phone to call his family before finishing up on his wounds. Jungkook dabs her cheek with some gauze. Everyone was hurt in different ways but they were alive.

The ambulance grows silent when Jungkook sends the group text to his parents and to his girlfriend.

Jimin fusses over your knuckles, his mind on fire with residual grief and anger over your stupidity and bravery. But you were okay. For now.

* * *

Jungkook stares at the face of your patient.

He filters through the faces he knows, the patient’s he’s treated before leaning forward to look at his wrist band. “Oh it’s this guy, oh man, didn't think he'd come back,” he says, looking up at his cardiac monitor carefully, scrutinising every wave of his heart beats, “Y/N, are you aware that your patient has a past cardiac history?”

“Yes, angina pectoris,” You nod your head, pointing to his monitor as Jimin cleans your arms, “Are you worried about those PVC’s (heart skipping a beat) too? He's post motor vehicle accident, fucked himself up pretty bad. He needs surgery pretty much as soon as we get to Seoul Hearts.”

“Angina?” He frowns, prompting Irene to swap places with him beside the head of the patient. “He doesn’t have Angina, I have a photographic memory, I would’ve remembered that. He had an acute myocardial infarction a couple weeks ago and he hasn't been compliant with his medication-

-what!” you shout, interrupting him, commanding the attention of the truck as you dart your eyes into his. “This patient's had a heart attack before? That wasn’t in his medical files at all when he came in. That’s pretty fucking important information. Jimin,” you turn to the boy. “Did you get a history from the family?”

Jimin shakes his head. “Didn’t have time with the code. They still don't even know he's a patient.”

“I can see Seoul Hearts Hospital now, we’re about 2 minutes away.” Jin says, but you’re heart is racing hard against your ribs now. It’s like a dose of adrenaline and you suddenly feel so awake.

“If what I am thinking has happened, this patient probably crashed his car because he had chest pain. Irene,” your voice is shaky, everyone in the ambulance detects the urgency in your voice. You forget about the bomb. “Did you get any cardiac biomarkers from the bloods you took?”

“The ones that detect heart muscle death?” Her eyes widen as she tries to remember, clearly put on the spot as everyone looks at her. “Oh my god. I think so, like almost ...almost immediately but Dr. Namjoon came in before I got to ...I didn’t have time to check exactly.”

“What were they, do you remember? It’s okay, take your time. It’s important to remember which ones there were.”

She closes her eyes and Jungkook resets the vital monitor to get an accurate reading. “He’s hypotensive with ventricular dysrhythmia,” he says, printing the ECG out. He grabs the pen from his pocket as he reads the rhythm carefully. “Was it troponins T and I Irene? Do you remember a T?” She opens her eyes, pursing her lips at him. “I think it might’ve been but I don’t remember- -Y/N, his heart rate is 165, blood pressure is 80/40. I think he’s in cardiogenic shock,” Jimin cuts in. “Vitals are crashing.” "Good timing." you slap yourself.

“Fuck the bloods. Holy fuck,” Jungkook circles a portion of the rhythm, spotting an ST-elevation in the electrocardiogram (heart attack), holding it up to you as Seokjin drives. “He’s having a fucking heart attack right now Y/N.” “What do we do?” Irene asks. You look back at his cardiac monitor seeing it clear as day now that the patient's heart rhythm goes from erratic to nothing. "HES ARRESTING," Jimin shouts, pulling you out of your gaze. "He’s going into cardiac arrest Seokjin!!“ “This can’t be fucking happening right now. Jimin, we need the defibrillator he needs defibrillation immediately. We need an epi?! Wheres the adrenaline?” You shout, unsure if you could jump straight onto the patient with the door open like that. It looked dangerous. “The ambulance isn’t stocked, there isn’t one in here,” Seokjin shouts from the front, “You’re going to have to do chest compressions until we get there but fuck, it could be dangerous for you with the door open so be careful.” “I’ve got this,” You close your eyes. "I can save him." “Jimin, ambu bag, right now. Get on the resps." Without hesitation, you get out of your seat as Jin turns, to straddle the patient. Holding your arms straight, you press the heel of your palm on his lower sternum, compressing it in a steady rhythm with your interlocked hands, one on the other. You hear a couple cracks almost immediately. "Irene, are you sure we don’t have any adrenaline in that bag?” She tips the back out onto the seat looking for a little vial, it all flies out the ambulance anyway. “There’s no medication in here, so no we don’t.” Jimin gently squeezes the ambu bag twice. "We're nearly at the hospital, I can see it out the window now." “Beginning ...30 compressions to 2 breaths. Jimin watch me closely," you say, feeling your own heart rip through your ribcage. "Seokjin radio report change in status.” “Will do,” he shouts, pulling down the radio to call it in. “Hi, this is Seokjin, incoming ambulance from Forest Lakes we have a cardiac arrest in progress in the back of our truck, prepare for defibrillation on arrival in less than a minute.” “25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30. Resps!” Perspiration drips down your dirty face as you pause your chest compressions, turning to the two to the left of you. “Irene and Jungkook prepare to wheel me out of this ambulance and in to that fucking Emergency Department. No one is dying on my watch, not if I can help it.”

Jungkook and Irene look at each other as the ambulance comes to a halt outside the Emergency Department at Seoul Hearts Hospital. Turning off the engine, Jin runs around the truck, pulling down the ramp and grabbing the end of the stroller.

You can ear the screams of agony inside the Emergency Department from here as doctors rush in bright yellow aprons, blue gloves and white face masks towards your truck.

“Let’s go, get out Irene and Jungkook,” Seokjin yells, pulling the stroller towards him and down the ramp with Jimin shuttling beside it. “Let’s move team! Keep doing compressions Y/N and hold on tight.”

716 notes · View notes

8eht · 6 years

Note

pls answer questions 1-10 andddd 17 😚😚😻😻😚😻😚😻😚😻♥♥♥

1. how old were you when you first starting writing fanfiction?

well i literally jsut started in nov 2017 so 26!!! i mean, if u want my deepest darkest secret i started an exo fic back in like 2012 but didnt write anything after like 2 paragraphs lmao akjfhakfjsasf

2.what fandoms do you write for and do you have a particular favourite if you write for more than one?

seventeen almost exclusively. although i do have an ongoing monsta x fic! ive considered writing for some video games like life is strange or detroit: become human, but i think i’ll stick with seventeen for now. svt is def my fave to write about, specifically junhao and gyuhao but thats prob obv

3. do you prefer writing oc’s or reader inserts? explain your answer.

neither??? everything i write is member/member so it doesnt really apply. however, ive been kind of tempted to write reader inserts but i pro wont bc its embarrassing aksfjhafkafjas. i might tho eventually. its just really not my thing.

4. what is your favourite genre to write for?

angst!!!!! heavy heavy heavy angst!!! with very subtle, but important ‘fluff’ here and there. i normally write boring things like uni or just everyday non-idol aus, but idk lately ive been really loving my sci-fi/dystopian au so who knows. im always changing!!! but yes, angst is something i will always write no matter what.

ive never been into fluff or soft stuff and prob never will. even if i were to write something fluffy, there will def be lots of angst too akjsfhasfk

5. if you had to choose a favourite out of all of your multi chaptered stories, which would it be and why?

okay so. ive only posted like two (kinda three) multi-chptered fics atm. and only one has multiple chapters posted. like atm im working one like … five multi-chaptered fics?? but i think no matter what natural born losers with be my favorite forever. i put so mucho f myself into it that it will always be the most important thing to me.

even if im not finished with even the first chapt of some, i KNOW natural born losers will be my fave forever.

send me fanfic asks 🍒

6. if you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?

most def the monsta x one bc im just not feeling it no matter how much i try. i just see too many things abt it i dont like. i want to do better with the second chpt, but if i HAD to delete one it would be that :((((((

i do love it a lot. it has to do with a lot of personal things that have actually happened to me, and there are some parts that im even surprised i had written bc i find them that wonderful (im not trying to be full of myself bc i normally think i suck) and im in love with those particualr bits.

but i mean, if i HAD to choose it would be breaths, hands, and other things to hold.

7. when is your preferred time to write?

literally any time. if im in the mood, then i will do it. even if im trying to sleep and its 4:37 am i will get up and write. whenever i get the urge to write i will!! there rly is no specific time.

8. where do you take your inspiration from?

so so so so so many diff places. from real life, to tv shows, to music. but for some specifics, nicole dollanger will forever be someone i take a huge inspiration from. all of her music is really how i feel, so she helps me get my feelings out in paper.

like i swear, anything i write, u can bet im listening to her while i write.

bc shes me, honestly. but a smarter and more articulate me.

9. in your xxx fic, what’s your favourite scene that you wrote?

im gonna choose an unpublished fic if thats okay!!!

so im gonna choose a scene from flowers of flesh and blood.

i havent published it yet, so i wont get into too much detail. but if you’ve played dbh you’ll kinda understand. but in it is a scene where ‘someone’ and his father picks out an android :^)

everyone will see wut i mean when i post it so asfjhasjfk. i dont want to give anything away, but im super excited abt it!!!!

10. in your xxx fic, why did you decide to end it like that? did you have an alternate ending in mind?

ok so another one of an unpublished fic!!!!!!!!

im not gonna give aNYTHING away buy i’ll tell u this. there is no ending. the ending is very up to the reader :^)

but it’s gonna be called how to stop never being sad and i’ll post it when i finish.

im only talking abt this one bc none of my current published fics are finished or close to being finished.

17. post a line from a WIP that you’re working on.

a blanket of courage covering all of his ugly blemishes, leaving him with a dewy and luminous finish.

#wenjunhuisgf #omg i didnt know this was u oana!!!!!!!!!!!!! i love u so much !!!!!!!!#i love UUUUUU #thank u!!!!#replies #not 17 #writing.txt

3 notes · View notes

guidingthulite · 6 years

Note

A, B!!!, J, L, N, P, Q, R, S, T, Z!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PLS TELL oof i love ur writing!!

OH MAN OH MAN OH MAN THANKS EMY!!!

aaaaa you love my writing? i’m so happy to hear that

A: Your current OTP.

HAMAHAYA. HAMAHAYA BIG TIME. And also lowkey Ishimondo but HamaHaya is my main one!!! I love them so much and I have so many headcanons and stories for them!!! That’s kinda why I want to put them on poly relationships? Like I want these relationships to be explored but I can’t take them away from each other

B: A pairing you initially didn’t consider but someone changed your mind.

I haven’t considered Yuuichi ² (and i refuse to call it any other way) but man did you change my mind. Did you.

Also there was this one time I just liked MasaHika as a BROTP but then @producktions and my brother came and… I surrendered :’D

J: Name a fandom you didn’t care/think about until you saw it all over tumblr.

Oh, Voltron definitely! I saw all this fanart, and fics and stuff and all I knew it was filed under ‘gays in space’, but then @justanothermatsugirl and @srta-double invited me to watch and… Porntron came to be. And Porntron is the best thing. Ever.

L: Your favorite fanartist/author gives you one request, what do you ask for?

It depends? I usually try to make both of us happy when it comes to requests, for example, if that person likes, say, HamaHaya but I feel like I want HamaKura I will ask them for HamaHaya anyways because 1. HAMAHAYA and 2. Maybe they will put more feel into the art!!! And what is most important of art is the feelings that it is put into it! Best art is the art you can tell the author put all their heart on~!

but if i could choose anything, give me the hamahayakuraminamana, you cowards

N: Your favorite fandom (for the people; not the thing you fangirl over).

Um… Is it normal I want to say the MOTHER fandom on 2014? Especifically on DA. It was like a tiny family… Everyone knew each other. Everyone was nice with each other. It was so nice. But now everyone parted ways and I have no idea where everyone is. Most left DA (and so did I) and I can’t help but wonder where they are. But my current fandom is really nice too… It’s like a family, too… Sometimes.

P: Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas).

Lately I’ve been thinking about a Go Ares AU a lot and hamano goes to tengawara for obvious reasons but that’s kinda boring so I gotta think about something more interesting >:3c

Kind of a joke AU, but still:

Have you guys ever heard about ~LA FERIA~? It’s like this weird Spanish thing we have. Everyone dances and sings these lame guitar songs which are mostly like aAAAAaAAAaaaYYYYYYYY @loreprotectionsquad can confirm BUT! that’s not the interesting thing! The interesting thing about Feria is that we basically get a mini amusement park on our town, just because!

So my brother and I thought about some Go kids there and it just…

Hamano gets Kurama a giant Snake plush and he tries to ride on a… Ride with it and it almost slips out but he clings to it and manages to save it. Hamano thinks it’s adorable. Kurama swears he’ll kill him if he tells someone. Hamano promised Hayami he’d get a plushie for him too, but he is unable (because you can only win one plush per day) so Hayami gets a dolphin plush for him. Imagine Hayami walking around with two overly joyful boyfriends clinging to their giant plushies. Goals.

Kirino and Shindou ride on the ferris wheel which they don’t set up anymore, but still. and Ibuki tries to climb it but fails (?

Shinsuke rides on some dinosaur themed train, and there’s clowns with balloons and stuff you can snatch from them. He gets a plastic axe. Which are super hard to get i need to tell you the story of how i got one when i was like 8. it was so stupid it’s funny He somehow convinces Tsurugi to ride too, while Tenma and Aoi look at them. They have become the ultime balloon snatchers. No one can stop them. Aoi and Tenma are so proud.

Taiyou comes, sees Tenma and waves at him, approaching him. Then all of the sudden, Fuyuka comes rushing after him, and tells Tenma that ‘Taiyou should be in right now, sorry for the inconvenience’ and picks him by the stomach (you know… like a kitten, with her arm around his torso? you get me, right?) while Taiyou tries to escape, but fails.

Kariya and Hikaru try to hide from Hiroto and Midorikawa, who have come with them, but Kariya wants some time alone, while they want to take pics of everything they do, basically.

Something about Yukimura and Fubuki was mentioned, along with Kishibe and Aphrodi, but I don’t remember ;v; Also, Amagi going with Mahoro and Yukie, and all of the third years (Minamisawa as well, for some reason) going together too.

My brother kinda dislikes Galaxy (except Tetsukado, Kusaka and Konoha) so I’ll do their stuff myself.

Minaho and Manabe compete to see who will get more plushies. They only get one keychain working together. They give it to the first team member that they see because they don’t know who should keep it.

But that was after the previously mentioned day, so the Second Year Trio got them plushies instead (they got the hang of one game and they WILL make the most of it. And, they have to help a boyfriend out, right?

So they spend the rest of the festivity together. And they have fun and stuff.

There’s one ride with horses. Konoha spends 98/100 there. Otherwise, she wouldn’t come. It’s so noisy, and crowded…

Kusaka comes and goes to check on her. He can’t ride on most… Rides (this is redundant) anyways. He’s too tall.

Tetsukado and Hamano competed to see who was better at Duck-Fishing. Let’s just say that Shinsuke and Hamano’s boyfriends came home with lots of plushes and prices…

Sakura aced all the games. How did she manage, no one knows (she was, in fact, the first one Minaho and Manabe offered the keychain to. But she rejected it and got two super sparkly keychains for them instead. Minaho and Manabe offered it anyways in exchange but she said that it was nothing and that they should keep the one they got.

Matatagi showed his brothers the place and rode on some rides (seriously how is this so redundant). Eventually they joined the Plushie Fest. Matatagi’s brothers cheered. He, not so much, not when he had to carry around giant plushies for the rest of the day, as his brothers were too busy exploring around.

I think that’s all??? Am I forgetting someone? except zanakurou but i don’t know what to do with him. he dances sevillanas. i don’t know. sorry darling

Oh, yeah, and there’s also this AU my brother and I made in which Kurama is a time traveler and quite literally Hamano and Hayami’s son (he has a big sister named Estrella but that’s for another time) and he has come because their parents were too slow too realize they had feelings for each other and he fears for his existence and his sister’s (???

Q: A ship you’ve abandoned and why.

Can you believe I used to ship Min/////a/kura? But, to be honest, I didn’t know what that was. I just found some comic of them and I thought it was cute. Then I got more into InaEle, and well…

I’m saying that one because I can’t think of anything else XD

R: A pairing you ship that you don’t think anyone else ships.

The Kurama multiship fest, which I will proceed to explain, even though the first one is sorta popular, but still:

Hamano and Hayami, because I saw HamaKura and I thought it was really cute! (when i got used to kurama, at first i didn’t like him but i found hamahayakura and i went ‘eeeeeeeehhh’ but you already know that story) then I thought of HamaHaya + HamaKura and Hayami just got into the package for some reason XD

Hikaru, because I was salty I didn’t ship him with Minamisawa and I wanted to ship him with someone but I didn’t know who, then he had a little scene with Hikaru on the games (when they go look for Shinsuke or something) and a lightbulb light up on my head

Tenma because, honestly, how can you have someone you ship with everyone but not Tenma? Plus it’s cute.

Tsurugi because I saw somebody posting drawings of them and I went ‘hey they cute’ and that’s all. also the fandom team might or might not had something to do with it

Kariya because they had this scene when they went to China on CS that i don’t even remember but what i do remember is my brother asking me why i wasn’t saying anything about the ship, and i went ‘well, i don’t, BUUUUUUUUUT’ and so it started.

Minaho because, and listen well because this one is weird, I was in class, and I was bored, and I decided to make quadrants for some InaEle characters, I started by Minaho and went ‘huh so, Moirail, Manabe, Matesprit, Manabe, Kismesis, Manab-wait’ so I decided to crack it up a bit and now it was ‘Moirail, Hamano, Matesprit, Manabe’ but I wanted to give him a Kismesis (that could’ve been perfectly Matatagi, but I didn’t think of that because I’m dumb) (also read: a love rivalry more or less) so I gave him Kurama. THEN I played BigBang and they had a small interaction and since back then I couldn’t even read Hiragana I don’t know what they said but Kurama made a sad face afterwards so I take it as I was right

Fei because Kurama learns Bouncer Rabbit on Galaxy (actually the two-people version. He does it with Hamano because I’m obvious) and also Fei stole his number, now Kurama has to steal something back (???

Taiyou because on my CS game Kurama, Taiyou and Hikaru always do hissatsus together on the random thing (that makes also Sakura and Matatagi do Butterfly Dream together all the time for some reason. Which is funny because I lowkey shipped it before starting Galaxy) so I got used to seeing them together.

Ibuki because my brother always calls them losers (he’s a bit mean sometimes, but I love him ;v;) so I started relating them n stuff.

Hakuryuu because my brother and I have this thing called the ‘Spammer Club’ which is for characters that say other character’s name a lot. We have Hakuryuu (who we jokingly call churugispammer) Miyasaka, Ibuki, Hakuryuu and Kurama got in too for some reason. So yeah. It happened. N stuff.

Also I brotp him with Kinako, but I brotp Kinako with everyone.

S: What’s a headcanon you have?

Hmm… I headcanon that out of the Second Year Trio, only Hamano has siblings (2 sisters, him being the middle sib- and no that’s not me self projecting ok)

Hayami has mentioned more than once on the games that he wants to be a scientist, and I headcanon that it’s because his mother is! Which also means she’s super busy most of the time. So Hayami is quite dependent, but he can’t cook for his life. Hamano is surprisingly okay at cooking, and he’s learning to bake.

Also, Hayami really likes penguins for some reason.

T: What are your favorite male/male ships or female/female ships?

Ack, that’s a hard one ;v;

- Male/Male - (to keep things fresh from 3 diff fandoms each)

Hamano/Hayami (Inazuma Eleven)

Ishimaru/Oowada (Danganronpa)

Killua/Gon (HxH)

Shu/Valt (Beyblade Burst)

Hau/Gladion (Pokémon)

- Female/Female -

Diana/Akko (Little Witch Academia) (i gotta continue it sob aaa)

Ootani/Anna (Inazuma Eleven)

Moon/Lillie (Pokémon)

Z: What’s a ship that you want to ship publicly, but everyone on tumblr hates it so you keep your mouth shut about it?

Ahahah, what are you talking about [hides my polyship mess under a rug] it is not much that they hate it, just that no one is interested XD

#alma's nonsense #hah...#this was... a thing...#yes... a thing...

8 notes · View notes

todokori-kun · 7 years

Text

WELCOME BACK!

<3 I really missed you, and it’s so great to hear you had fun! (and omg yes so ready to see all those beautiful pics)

Yaaayyyy join me in MCU feels hell. And oooh, you have a ship for the fandom now! Like, Stoki’s still my favorite Steve pairing but Stony’s really cool too…you know I ship almost everything XD (also am I the only person who sorta hated almost everyone by the end of CW? Like, of course they’re still my favs and there are still some cinnamon rolls, but, come on. Why couldn’t you all just get along ;-;)

Speaking of Illumi, do you know that Hisoka/Illumi is an incredibly popular ship in the HxH fandom? Probably because both of them are so horrible that they have like 0 friends other than each other. Nobody else wants to hang out with these losers. (Chrollo tolerates Hisoka and the adults in Illumi’s family seem to spend enough time with him to give him orders, but that’s about it.) It’s a trash ship with two trashy people and tbh I love it XD

So continuing with the eye jokes, imagine. Hisoillu version of Helpless. Hisoillu version of Satisfied.

“Look into his eyes and the sky’s the limit”

“Intelligent eyes in a hunger-pang frame”

(I know you did thise one before but still) “But when I fantasize at night, it’s Illumi’s eyes”

just, I’m imagining animatics for this with the ‘camera’ zooming in on Illumi’s dead fish eyes every time the lyrics mention them. It’s hilarious and also mildly terrifying

(though I guess if we’re actually making a Hamilton AU Hisoka’s way more likely to do something like Say No To This…)

idk if I’d want to be a parent either really LOL. Kids are adorable but I don’t think I’ll ever be responsible enough to raise one…

If Ishida makes a plot twist or something about it being someone else pretending to be Hide I'm actually gonna get mad. Dude. Not only would that bring the Hide feels right back it’d just make absolutely no sense omg

(also you read the new chapter, right? So, let’s talk about Juuzou and that huge death flag)

I’ve heard of Soul Eater and considered reading it but it’s not really the kind of thing I’m into…artwork’s cute, though, and Death the Kid seems like an interesting guy so maybe someday XD

AGH I’M ACTUALLY SORTA JEALOUS BECAUSE WOW I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA HOW TO WATCH THAT LEGALLY HERE IN KOREA. (unless I ask my dad for help but he doesn’t like manga/anime at all, so…) But yes, I’m really happy Lizzy finally got her moment this time! Now anime-only fans can’t complain about her being a ‘shallow’ character so hopefully there’ll be less fighting over Lizzy in the Kuro fandom :D

FINALLY. Fellow Death Note fan <3333 Who’s your fav? Do you have any ships? Are you done with the anime??? :D (also do you know…you picked a really interesting time to join the DN fandom. The American live-action movie just came out and it sucks so freaking bad, like I haven’t even watched it yet and just from the reviews/clips, here’s what I got:

-They turned Misa into this Harley Quinn-type character. Only without any depth.

-Light/Misa is an actual canon ship, like, it’s not abusive or one-sided like it is in the anime/manga, it’s just…a thing. Light loves Misa. Misa loves Light. It’s like every cringey high school romance movie ever, only with more murder

-They freaking bent the Death Note rules just so Light could get away with all sorts of ridiculous stuff

-L cries, L rants, L is overly emotional

-Light tells L where he hid a page from his Death Note. Light doesn’t deny being Kira. Light shows Misa his Death Note when they like barely know each other and she’s still a complete stranger to him. Light acts like an idiot.

-Oh sure, he’s Kira, God of the New World, but he still cares about going to prom with his girlfriend and making stupid faces as they pose for pictures

-So much unnecessary gore. Heart attacks are Kira’s thing, Light isn’t that emotional about his kills, he doesn’t care as long as the 'villains’ are dead, so why???

-Apparently Rem does not exist. Sayu doesn't exist either. Light’s mom is dead (probably so he can angst over her)

-Light Turner. Light TURNER. Out of all the surnames they could have chosen…

-And now, for the most unforgivable sin:

How dare they not include the Potato Chip scene)

And then random things: JJ and Light have the same voice actor. Yurio and Mello (imo…have you met Mello yet?) could be long-lost twins.

Also:

I’ve fallen into Steven Universe hell and now I’m imagining so. Many. Gem AUs. Have you ever heard of SU?

(look:

1- don’t stress about the messages, and come on, I’d never get mad at you over something like this! You’re way too awesome.

2- I don’t really know what to say 'cause I’m bad at comforting people, but ugh, it sucks to hear that school’s tiring you out! Queen Luna’s gonna get through this, though. I mean, you’re great at so many things and you’re freaking smart and…this is awkward but maybe you understand Evans Language by now? XD Guess I’m just trying to say that I’m sure you’ll do great, and if you ever need someone to talk to I’m (almost) always free *hugs*

3- Um. So, other than tumblr, I think the only way I can talk with you right now is if we email each other? The email address I used this time is my real one (or rather, my dad’s, since I don’t have one of my own yet…) so maybe we can talk about this more through email and find a better way to contact each other? If that’s ok with you can you send me a message there?)

P.S:

I’ve started college and have no idea what I’m doing

*slams head against keyboard* guess who managed to get sick. It’s only been a week since school started. Whatever, I’m still going to school, but I woke up breathing like a fish on land, bc asthma. Yay.

I’m definitely gonna upload the pics today!!

Okay, but one thing I’m wondering about, is How? Not in a malicious way or anything, I’m genuinely curious to why you ship Stoki (and where it began). Was it that redemption fic you told me about or did you ship it before?

Tbh, I didn’t hate the characters in CW, I hated the situation. Because there’s so so much pointless conflict that could easily be solved if everyone sat down and talked like normal people. But nooo we have to go around attacking each other. ((ALSO CAP’S LETTER TO TONY, I AM DEAD))

I’ve already learned (and experienced) that shipping is a very weird and unusual thing, so I’ll be honest and say I’m not even surprised that ship exists. At least it has some basis XD

I’m actually tempted to go through the lyrics of the whole musical and find every single eye line there is, only to replace it w Illumi’s eyes.

Not only zooming in on the eyes, the word itself is louder than the rest XD man if only I could draw…

Tbh I’d say I’m responsible enough (HA, that’s more or less a lie), but I’m honestly way too irritated with the little ones to be able to have one of my own. My cousin recently celebrated her 3rd bday and I was stuck looking after her during the party, bc all the adults were talking among themselves and I swear to god, I haven’t moved that much since I had to run 2km for PE. Where do they get their energy. Not to mention the adults thought it would be a good idea to leave me w her, because I’d already drunk 3 glasses of wine (i was bored and not allowed to do anything other than stare at emptiness or look after a 3yo). Turns out my tolerance isn’t that bad after all.

Lol let’s be honest, Ishida would totally do that. He knows the fandom would riot and that’s the whole point.

All the death flags. Tbh I don’t know how I feel about it. It’s obvious that either Touka or Juuzou are probably gonna die and I wan’t neither (If I have to choose tho, I’d rather Juuzou survives.) Also Naki. HNNNNNNGH

I think you’d actually like the manga? It takes a pretty dark turn compared to the anime and deals with lots of mental issues (the whole theme of the later volumes is Madness). Also, lots of death XD Well, the artwork changes drastically, so which one are you talking about XD

The girl in the coat (left first pic, middle 2nd) is the same person for reference. Death the Kid was one of my first anime crushes. The guy has OCD and is a total badass.

MUHAHAHAHA I think someone uploaded the Lizzy fight to youtube so you can probably find it there, but I am in love. The animation is beautiful, so that’s also a huge plus. All in all, it was handled really well.

Death Note

So last I’ve watched is ep 25, aka the one WHERE L DIES. And i am not okay. I am nowhere near okay. Nope. Not at all.

Oh i’ve heard all about the adaptation. Tbh I find the whitewashing hilarious. Setting the movie in America removes so much of the series’s logic, so why? L being the way he is is probably my favourite mistake. They took the best character and ruined him completely. POTATO CHIP SCENE NOOOO But my question is: did everything go just according to the keikaku?

Have fun w SU! I’ve watched it for a while, but gave up at some point. I might pick it up again if I have the time ^^ Word of advice, watch out for the fandom, they’re among the most toxic ones I’ve ever encountered. One time, they almost drove an artist to suicide because she didn’t draw Rose ‘thick enough’. So yeah.

What did I do to deserve you as my friend TT^TT Thank you so so much, those words mean more than you can imagine.

Um. Looks like we’ll be staying here, because I never, ever check my mail, despite getting school assignments there, so yeah. If we used mail, you’d probably get a response every leap year.

How does the education system work in Korea? Like, at what age do you start going to which school?

Also, I’ve told you about Mystic Messenger? I think you’d like the newest update, because damn, it’s creeping me out. Also, it’s in Korean, so + ((My thoughts during the prologue of the new route: Nani the fuck))

#evans #submission

4 notes · View notes

bastardnev · 7 years

Text

Steal Your Heart Ch. 3

nev may be a loser, but he’s WADE’S loser

(crossposted from ao3)

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: World Wrestling Entertainment, Professional Wrestling Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Wade Barrett/Pac | Adrian Neville, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added Characters: Wade Barrett, Pac | Adrian Neville, Other Character Tags to Be Added Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Thieves Summary: Random happenings in the lives of Wade, a detective, and Neville, a thief who took a liking to him and decided to tag along with him during his investigations.

Wade let out an impatient sigh, resting his arm on the car window and propping his head up while his other hand gripped the steering wheel. No matter what state he went to -- be it back in New York or here in North Carolina -- he always found himself stuck in rush hour traffic. The rain that had been falling all afternoon certainly wasn't helping much either. I swear, it's like everyone forgets how to drive whenever it rains... Wade grumbled to himself, rolling his eyes when the person in the car behind him started repeatedly honking their horn. "Yes, because that's totally gonna fix everything!" Wade complained. "That's gonna get us out of this mess quicker."

"Ooh, you tell 'em, Wade," Neville chuckled from the passenger's seat, not looking up from his DS. Wade looked over and noticed that he was completely focused on the screen, his tongue poking out from between his lips as he did whatever the hell it was that he was doing.

Wade forced his gaze back on the road and was about to respond when the horn honked again and cut him off, and he leaned his head back against the seat, letting out a deep sigh. "The universe is actively working against me, I swear to God," he said, prompting another laugh from Neville. He knew that it was a bad idea to meet up with the witnesses this late in the day -- when he knew that once they were finished it would be around 5 PM -- and yet he did it anyway. Had he proposed that they do it earlier or even on a day when the weather wasn't so poor, then this whole thing could have been completely avoided.

"Dammit, come on!" Neville huffed after having fallen silent again. "Just stay in the damn ball, you bastard..."

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to catch Lugia."

"Lugia? Nev, are you really playing Pokémon right now?" Wade snorted. "What are you, a child?"

"No, I'm not, but I do like to have fun, unlike you," Neville snapped back, pursing his lips and raising his eyebrows at Wade for a moment before going back to playing.

"Wow, okay," he scoffed. "I didn't realize that this was such a sensitive topic for you." Wade needed to learn to keep his mouth shut. The last thing he needed was an angry Neville -- if provoked, Neville might steal his wallet. Again.

"You should try playing it one of these days. I think you'd really like it."

"I've never really been much of a video game person. I'm all thumbs with controllers."

"I'm gonna name the next non-legendary that I catch after you. I'll raise you to level one hundred."

"I feel so honored," Wade replied sarcastically, watching as a raindrop slowly slid down from the top of the windshield. What he would give to be back at the hotel at that moment, warm and dry and not sitting in a car surrounded by so many impatient drivers...

"... God, and now I'm out of Ultra Balls!" Neville annoyedly switched the system off and shut it, setting it down on top of Wade's notepad, which was resting in his lap. "I'll try that again later. Lemme tell ya, catching legendary Pokémon is pretty much impossible. Their catch rate is so damn low... How am I supposed to complete the Pokédex when they make it so freaking difficult?"

"I'm gonna pretend like I understood what you just said," Wade replied. His eyes fell on the DS. "Y'know, Nev, I've been meaning to ask you: Where'd you get that thing, anyway?"

"This old thing?" Neville picked it back up, admiring it proudly. "Well, where do you think I got it from, Wade? Take a guess."

Wade thought for a second before he smirked. "You stole it, didn't you?"

"Correct!" Neville ran a hand over the top of it, his finger tracing along a small crack. "It was easily my most successful heist. You wouldn't believe the hours of entertainment I've gotten out of it. It doesn't owe me a damn thing."

Wade noticed that the traffic was slowly letting up, and he was able to move his car up, but it still seemed like they would be stuck there for a little while longer. Letting up or not, it was still bumper-to-bumper, which meant that the person in the car behind them was sure to start up with the horn again any second now... Wade knew that they needed to pass the time somehow, so he looked to Neville and asked, "Why don't you tell me about it? The heist, I mean. How'd you pull it off?"

"Oh my God, it was awesome, Wade. Literally no one saw it coming! I caught them all off guard." Neville suddenly grew incredibly animated, like he was thrilled that he was given the chance to talk about his thievery. Wade got the feeling that Neville probably didn't know many people who would listen to him ramble about his illegal activities, and the fact that Neville trusted him enough with this information made him smile.

"Well, go on now!" He encouraged him, motioning with his hands for him to continue. "No need for the suspense. Gimme the details. Where'd it take place?"

"It was in the hotel in Miami. Y'know, the one we met in?" Neville explained. "In addition to being murderous, the people that work there are really inattentive."

"As seen by the fact that no one noticed you were secretly staying there for months."

"Exactly! No one even batted an eyelash when I swiped this bad boy from the lost-and-found."

Wade's brow furrowed. "Wait, you got it from a lost-and-found?"

"Yeah! I was snooping around one night and found it sitting in there with a game and a charger. They were all dusty, like they'd been there for awhile before I found them. I figured that since no one else seemed interested in giving it the proper care that it deserves that I would take it for myself. None of the staff even knew that I dropped by." Neville grinned at the white DS, his tongue poking out from between his teeth. "So oblivious. I was so proud of myself afterwards."

Hold on a minute. Wade was confused. A lost-and-found is full of items that people lost, and in most cases no one ever drops by and claims them. In the end, it technically didn't matter who took the DS, be it Neville or the actual owner. Is he saying that the best heist he's ever pulled off was picking up a lost item? One that had been left behind for months that the owner probably forgot about?

The silence in the car was broken by the sound of the car horn going off again, and Neville was the one to let out a frustrated noise this time. "God, can't you just honk your horn back at him?" He reached towards the wheel.

"Hey, hey, we're not doing any of that today," Wade swatted his hand away. He drove the car up a little further, what Neville told him still at the forefront of his mind. If that was the biggest thing that Neville had ever done since becoming a thief, then did that mean that he wasn't much of a thief at all? No, there had to be more to it than that. There must be more that he's not telling him. "So that was how you stole the DS, huh?"

"Mmhmm. And I don't regret a thing."

"So what about some of your other heists? What's the next big thing that you've done?"

"Well..." Neville drew out the 'l' at bit his lip as he thought, clicking his tongue a few times. "There was this one thing I did recently at a store that I thought was pretty sweet."

"Ooh, alright." Wade liked the sound of that -- things could actually be stolen from a store. "What kind of a store was it? A jewelry store? Did you steal a bunch of diamonds?"

"No, it was a convenience store," Neville responded. "Took a bag of Skittles when the cashier wasn't looking. You wouldn't believe how little attention those people pay, especially when it's after dark."

"I... I see..." Wade knew just from experience how skilled Neville was at stealing. Had it not been for him and his abilities, the case in Miami would have taken much longer to solve since Wade would be working on his own. Neville has this talent, but he doesn't even use it properly... He acts like he's a big criminal, when really his biggest crime is just petty theft! Once again, Wade found it almost funny how he of all people was the one griping about Neville not committing any serious offenses.

After what felt like forever, the traffic was finally moving, and Wade hurriedly stepped on the gas pedal before the person in the car behind them exploded out of pure rage. It was once they were driving steadily that Neville asked, "You okay? You've been thinking for awhile."

"I'm fine," Wade replied. "Look, kid, I know I've told you this before, but... You are a very interesting person, you know that?"

"An interesting person, and an amazing thief." Neville grinned.

"Yeah, sure, you're amazing." Not too long after he said that, Wade heard the sound of the Pokémon game that Neville had been playing start up again. "You're giving it another shot?"

"I don't have a choice!" Neville tapped the stylus against the screen. "If I give up, then I'm just letting Lugia win. I can't have that!"

"Nev, it's only pixels."

"They're more than that! You would know if you actually played."

"Oh my God, you really are a child..." Wade breathed a sigh of relief when he saw their hotel, and he drove into the parking lot.

#neville #adrian neville #wade barrett #barrett x neville #wwe fanfiction #jess.txt

3 notes · View notes

ddproductionsw77 · 6 years

Text

Baby Loser Babysitting with Mike Hanlon

Fandom: IT (2017)

Pairing(s): I mean… technically Reddie, Stenbrough, and Beverly because it is their children but this isn’t really a romantic one-shot.

Main Characters: Mike Hanlon, Cassie Tozier (OC), Molly Hanscom (OC), Alex Tozier (OC), Aaron Tozier (OC), Chrissy Hanscom (OC), and Georgie Denbrough-Uris (OC),

Minor: Beverly Marsh-Hanscom, Ben Hanscom, Bill Denbrough, Stan Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak (Tozier?), Richie Tozier, and Carole Danners.

Rating: T

Description: Mike Hanlon was having a pretty great evening with his hot librarian co-worker… Until his nieces and nephews get dumped on him about ten seconds into his date. (Adult Losers and Next Gen Babies!!)

Author’s Note: Come on, ya’ll… Mike is a freaking amazing uncle, just try to fight me on this.

Carole Danners was definitely a very pretty girl, Mike had decided.

The smile on her bright red lips was always so suggestive. She was an eye catcher Derry Main Library standards. Her eyes were hazel and never the same exact color, greener than browner a moment later. She wasn’t a stick, either; no, she had curves… nice ones.

She was a graduate student, only home for a spring internship. Maybe even a few years younger than Mike but nothing to sweat over. He could still legally buy her a drink and he was barely twenty-eight himself.

Besides, Carole had been hinting to him for weeks now that she might be interested in a little fun, too.

So, Mike did what any straight man having a little bit of a dry spell would and asked her over to his place.

His grandfather had died a few years back and left him all the property of the Hanlon farm. Mike didn’t have the time or money anymore to keep the place operational but at least he had a big ass yard and matching farmhouse.

Carole slipped off her cardigan once she was through the screen door, revealing velvety shoulders and a low neckline that Mike was not complaining about. She looked around, draping her sweater over the back of his couch.

“I like it,” She grinned, turning to him, “Very… you.”

Mike laughed, quirking an eyebrow, “Thanks, I think? Can I get you a drink?”

“Oh, God, yes!” Carole exclaimed, moving to follow him to the kitchen. “What’s your poison then, Michael? Hmm?”

“Well—“ He started but stopped short, hearing the crunch of tires in his gravel driveway.

“Uh, one second…” He pardoned himself and moved to look out the window. His heart sunk and he whirled back around to a confused Carole, “I’ll be right back, I swear.”

Before she could answer, Mike threw him out of the front door and down the front porch steps, “Oh, no! No! No! No! Not happening, Eddie!”

His best friend stepped out of his van, looking only slightly apologetic, “Yes, happening, Mike. You promised you’d watch the kids so we can get Bill and Stan out of the house for once. I swear they haven’t fucking left since they brought Georgie home…”

Mike narrowed his eyes, racking his brain… he’d promised?

Fuck! Yeah, yeah, he had, hadn’t he?

He groaned, “Eddie, come on! I have— plans!”

“I know,” Eddie gave him a look, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb, “Watching my kids and Georgie… andMollyandChrissy.”

“No, I have real plans— Wait, what was that at the end?”

“Well…”

“Eddie!”

“Bev and Ben figured you wouldn’t mind since you’ll already have Cassie, Alex, Aaron, and Georgie!” The shorter boy defended, cringing a little hearing the terrible logic out loud. “They’re already on their way over and they have Georgie with them.”

“But—But—“ Mike sputtered, “Eddie, I have a woman over! A real woman, who looks like the sexy librarian from a Playboy! Do you know how long it’s been, man?”

Eddie snorted, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest, “You seriously do not want to pick that argument with me. I have three kids and I’ve been in the same relationship for eleven years now; I never have sex. In fact, I actually enjoy knowing that you’re suffering with me.”

Mike stared at his best friend, mouth hanging open. After a moment, he sighed, “I’m not getting out of this, am I?”

Eddie cocked his head to the side and reached out to pat Mike on the arms, “Cheer up, Mikey. The kids all love you and it’ll only be a few hours.”

“I should go tell Carole—“

Mike was cut off by the sound of Eddie’s van’s sliding door being slammed open. Cassie Tozier, who was now basically a professional at getting out of her own car seat, jumped out with a loud shriek of excitement, “Uncle Mikey!”

She threw her arms around his legs, curly brown ponytail swinging down her back. She grinned up at him with pure joy and Mike felt guilty for trying to get out of his promise to watch her and the other Baby Losers.

“Dada said your gunna watch us!” She hopped up and down, giggling. “Are you? Are you?”

“‘Going to’, Cas, not ‘gunna’. Only Papa says that.” Eddie corrected before looking at Mike questioningly.

The man sighed and reached down, swinging the little girl up into his arms. “Well, how could I say no to my favorite niece named ‘Cassidy’?”

She laughed, covering her mouth as if she had a secret. Over her shoulder, her father mouthed Thank you to his best friend and Mike shrugged in return.

Eddie was right; the kids loved him and it was only a few hours.

Mike carried Cassie into the house, followed by Eddie who had Aaron on one hip and Alex’s hand gripped with in his other free one. Apparently, Alex threw a fit anytime someone tried to hold him; he stubbornly liked to get places on his own since he’d learned to walk.

The boys were nearly three now, Cassie six-years-old herself… kids grew up too damn fast.

Carole was in the living room and turned around upon hearing the door swing back open. That suggestive smile she always wore slipped away as she took in the four new people in the house. “Oh, hello.”

“Hi!” Cassie waved excitedly and Eddie watched her with an amused smile from behind. Slipping his gaze past his daughter, he nodded to Carole in greeting.

“You must be the ‘real woman’ Mike said he had over. I’m Eddie, the best friend, and these guys,” He looked over his children, “Are the reason Mike’s gotta cancel on you. All my fault, really. He had no idea.”

Mike shot his friend a thankful look for taking the blame for his own forgetfulness. Eddie shrugged, Yeah, sure, whatever.

“Oh, you watch your friend’s kids? That’s so sweet!” Carole clapped, “I understand completely! But, uh, I’m free tomorrow, too… so, call me?”

“Yes!” Mike asked, a bit too quickly.

Eddie waited until Bev and Ben showed up with their daughters, Molly and Chrissy, and the newest addition to the Baby Losers Club, Bill and Stan’s son, Georgie. The infant was nearly two months old and this would be his first outing away from his parents.

Mike was thankful he’d gotten to skip the first official handoff this time, remembering the crying and screaming of dragging Eddie from Cassie the first time and Ben from Molly. Richie and Bev hadn’t been as bad as their spouses but he’d still had to practically wrestle the diaper bags from them. It was nice to not have to repeat history with Bill and Stan, too.

“Molly, be good and help Uncle Mike keep an eye on your sister, okay?” Ben instructed, crouched down to his eldest daughter’s height.

She eyed him with narrowed eyes, “But Chrissy’s annoying.”

“Sweetie, you shouldn’t—“

“Molly Arlene Hanscom, I hear you say that one more time, you’ll find out just how annoying I can be. You understand me?” Beverly broke in, looking down at her child.

Molly’s shoulders slumped and sighed, dramatically, “I understand!”

After all their parents had kissed them goodbye, the kids were left solely to Mike. Within moments he’d lost track of the Three Musketeers of the Terrible Twos and was surrounded by two six-year-olds as he tried to keep baby Georgie asleep in his car carrier.

“Molly, Cassie, where are Chrissy, Alex, and Aaron?” Mike asked, peering around only a bit panicked.

The girls shrugged in sync, reminding him somewhat of the twins from the Shining. Glancing at each other, they grinned mischievously. Molly looked back at him, rest her elbow on the counter and her chin on her palm. Damn, she looked like Ben… with Bev’s freckles and little nose.

“Uncle Mikey, do you have a girlfriend?”

“What?” Mike asked, startled, “Uh, no, I don’t right now, Molls.”

“So, who was the pretty lady?” Cassie jumped in, quirking an eyebrow and positioning herself as a reflection of her best friend.

He stopped, opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “She’s my friend.”

“Cassie said she had big boobies,” Molly commented, casually.

The other girl nodded, “Yowza boobies.”

Mike sputtered, “Molly! Cassie!”

“What?” They exclaimed together before Cassie added in a mutter under her breath, “Well, she did.”

There was a crash from the other room followed by toddler giggles. All three jumped and even baby Georgie flinched in his sleep before stilling once again.

Mike squeezed his eyes shut, “Fuck.”

Cassie and Molly gasped, making him open his eyes back up.

“Bad word! Bad word! Bad word!” They chanted, pointing at him.

“You’re gunna be in so much trouble!” Cassie sang.

“Lots of trouble!” Molly nodded, solemnly before turning to her friend. As Mike rushed from the room to find the source of the crash, he heard the girl whisper, “It’s ‘going to’, Cassie, not ‘gunna’.”

When he rounded the corner, he found the tower of books he’d left beside his already packed bookshelf was now scattered across the floor. Among the covers and pages, three toddlers, a carrot top and two curly masses of jet black hair, looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“Oh, dammit!” Mike exclaimed, slamming a palm into his forehead.

“Danmit!” A tiny voice echoed him.

Mike’s stomach dropped and his arm fell back to his side, eyeing Aaron Tozier and hoping he hadn’t just heard what he had, “Aaron…”

“Danmit!” Alex yelled beside his twin brother.

“No, boys! That’s—that’s a bad wor—“

“Danmit!” Now Chrissy joined in, a chorus of toddlers yelling swear words at him.

Molly and Cassie came into the room behind him, looking between their younger siblings and their horror-struck Uncle.

Molly gave a long sigh and shook her head, “Kids these days.”

Mike looked down at her, bewildered, but the child just continued to shake her head at the babies in disapproval. Cassie followed her lead a beat later. Soon, however, she got distracted and tugged at Mike’s jeans.

He sighed, “What, Cassie?”

“Georgie pooped his diaper. He smells.”

The swearing toddlers would have to be a problem for later, Mike decided as he spun on his heel and returned to the car carrier that Georgie was still settled into.

The baby boy had indeed woken up and was not looking particularly happy. He was squirming, getting more and more worked up by the second. Little whimpers of discomfort had already started up and there were crocodile tears welling in his eyes.

Acting fast, Mike unsnapped the little guy’s buckles and gingerly picked him up from the carrier. “Ah, don’t cry, buddy. I got you, nothing to worry about…”

Georgie looked up at him with those watery, unsure eyes and a quivering lip.

As Mike went about changing his diaper, he kept up talking to the baby as it seemed to be keeping the crying at bay, “I know I’m not your daddies but we’ve met before, remember? I’m Uncle Mikey and I think I’m pretty cool.”

He’d just finished fastening Georgie’s fresh diaper when music began playing from the living room. It was loud enough for him to hear each word through the wall and he froze, Georgie contently sucking on his own fist on the changing cloth before him.

Hey, yeah —

I wanna shoop, baby

“Oh, this is not happening right now,” Mike muttered, lifting Georgie up and rushing to the living room.

Cassie and Molly were now standing in front of the stereo, grinning at each other and nodding to ‘Shoop’ by Salt-N-Pepa. Chrissy, Alex, and Aaron were gone once again but he could faintly hear ‘danmit’ being called before down the hall. In his arms, Georgie began to scream directly into Mike’s ear at the loud music.

“Girls! No!” Mike cried, desperately. Eddie would fucking murder him if Cassie went home humming that song. Cassie and Molly groaned and pouted as he passed in search of the other half of the Baby Losers.

…He probably shouldn’t call them that, he thought randomly. Instilling self-confidence and all that crap Eddie was always going on about.

He nearly tripped over the books that were still on the floor and only just managed to right himself and hold onto Georgie. The little guy was not happy, his whole face now red from his screaming. “Sorry, sorry, sorry— I know it’s loud.”

Mike found Chrissy holding herself up using the doorframe of one of the spare bedrooms. She smiled up at him with a hole-y grin and waved, “Danmit!”

Groaning, Mike started toward her only for her to break into a peel of giggles and take off away from him. “Chris! Come on, baby girl, don’t run from Uncle Mikey!”

She ignored him, running at her tottering pace down the hall until she reached the last room and ducked inside. Mike pursued, grateful he was far enough down the hall now that Georgie wasn’t crying over noise anymore.

When he got to the room, he found Alex and Aaron sitting near the edge of the mattress, watching Chrissy attempt to crawl under the bed. Aaron giggled down at her while Alex observed with a serious, almost contemplative look on his baby features.

Both boys looked up when Mike came in.

“Hi!” Aaron yelled, making Georgie startle in Mike’s arms.

“Shh, buddy. We don’t want to scared baby Georgie, right?” The man pressed his finger to his lips to gesture for quiet.

Aaron grew confused, turning his head to his twin for some explanation. All he got was Alex doing a mimicry of Mike’s finger-to-lips motion. Aaron reached out and shoved his brother, sending Alex tumbling to the floor.

“Aaron! Why would you—“ Mike stopped in his scolding, watching as Alex righted himself without bursting into tears like Mike had expected.

The little boy looked at his hands, which he’d used to stop his head from hitting the carpet, and then at his brother. A second later, he grabbed Aaron’s ankle and yanked him hard off the bed as well.

The other boy toppled onto Chrissy, still trying to clamber under the bed, and caused the little girl to smack her head against the bed frame with a loud thunk. Mike cringed.

“Danmit!” She cried before she began to scream, falling back onto her butt to sob up at the ceiling. Aaron joined her as Alex stood to the side, watching them both before looking up at Mike and shrugging. If there wasn’t so much crying taking place, Mike would have probably laughed at the child’s unfazed reaction.

Instead, Mike quickly set Georgie on the bed a safe distance from the edge and went about checking Aaron and Chrissy over for injuries with ‘Shoop’ still faintly playing from the living room down the hall.

…One hell of a night, indeed.

Two hours later, Georgie was back asleep in his carrier. Alex and Aaron were on the couch, kicking each other’s tennis shoes back-and-forth playfully. Chrissy was dozing next to Aaron, curled into a ball with a band-aid on her pale forehead. She hadn’t been bleeding and it wasn’t even where she’d hit her head but it’d been the only way to get her to stop crying… so Mike had just gone along with it.

Finally, Cassie and Molly were now dancing on his coffee table, belting out ‘Shoop’ at the top of their lungs as Mike watched them with a look of resignation from the doorway. How the fuck had they memorized the words so quickly? That was the real question here, Mike thought.

“Here I go, here I go, here I go again,” Cassie started up.

“Girls, what’s my weakness?” Molly continued, instantly getting a reply from Cassie, “Men!”

Across the room, the front door opened.

Eddie, Richie, Bev, Ben, Bill, and Stan came in, chatting and chuckling amongst themselves only to fall silent at the display before them. Molly and Cassie seemed unperplexed by their new audience, continuing with their rapping without pause or hesitation.

Not even when Stan spoke up over the music, “Is… is this ‘Shoop’?”

Mike sighed and shrugged in response, not really sure how the night had gotten to this point. “It’s just been that kind of night, Stanley.”

Eddie looked pale and like he might throw up as Cassie danced to the center of the table, belting out her next part with all the dramatics of a Broadway starlet, “Felt it in my hips so I dipped back to my bag of tricks,”

Molly came in, shaking her shoulders and throwing her hair back over her shoulder with a giggle, “Then I flipped for a tip, make me wanna do tricks for him,”

Ben choked and Bev grasped his arm, her cheeks going red as they listened.

“Lick him like a lollipop should be licked!” Cassie cried out and Richie burst into laughter.

He was instantly silenced by Eddie elbowing him aggressively in the ribs. He grimaced and gave his husband an apologetic look only to give his daughter a thumbs-up once Eddie’s back was turned again.

The music cut off and Bill stood by the stereo with an amused look on his face, “How was the babysitting, Mikey?”

“Well,” Mike started, feeling Eddie’s glare on him, “It was interesting, right guys?” He asked the kids before him.

Cassie and Molly hopped off the table and moved to their parents. Eddie scooped Cassie up, almost protectively, looking seconds away from hyperventilating as he stroked her ponytail.

Beverly took Molly’s hand as the girl nodded, “I had fun but Chrissy broke her head open.”

Bev and Ben looked at Mike so fast, he thought he heard their necks crack.

“Chrissy did not break her head open, Molly. She bumped it,” Mike corrected, “Just a little bit…” He trailed off, trying to predict his friend’s reactions.

Ben went over to Chrissy on the couch and picked her up. She smiled at him sleepily before wrapping her arms around his neck and snuggling her face into his neck. He shrugged to his wife, “She seems fine.”

“And Georgie is asleep in the kitchen,” Mike pointed over his shoulder, “He doesn’t like loud music, apparently.”

Like magic, Bill and Stan were gone, practically shoving past him to get to their son. Ah, new parents…

Mike nodded and turned back to Eddie and Richie. Eddie had passed Cassie over and was on the boys now, combing his fingers through Alex’s messy black hair so that it stuck up funnily. The boy scrunched his nose at his father and pushed his hand away. Beside him, Aaron whined and reached his chubby fingers out, asking to be held.

Eddie picked the toddler up and kissed his forehead before looking over him to Mike, “Well, at least you only corrupted one of my kids.”

“About that—“ Mike started only to be cut off by Alex.

“Danmit, Dada! Danmit! Danmit! Danmit!” The child shrieked through rare laughter, actually grinning for once in his life.

“Mike!” Eddie yelped, whirling on his best friend accusingly.

“It’s been a long night, okay?” Mike cried in defense.

“Great, my daughter has her first stripping routine perfected and my son—“

“Danmit,” Aaron echoed.

“—Sons learned their first swear word! Thank you so much, Michael!” Eddie snapped, growing red in the face and breathless.

Richie stepped forward, “Eds, it sounds like you’re shaming the profession of stripping and I think we should support Cassie Anne no matter what sh—“ Eddie turned his head to glare at Richie and the other man stopped dead, looked thoughtful for a moment, and then nodded.

The man turned to Mike, “Yeah, I can’t help you out of this one, Micycle.”

Mike sighed and turned back to his best friend, “In my defense, I was forced into this. I had a date, remember?”

Beverly cringed, running her fingernails down Chrissy’s back and playing with Molly’s coffee brown locks, “I would not have taken that route.”

Eddie stared at Mike unflinchingly for a long moment before sighing and rolling his eyes, “Whatever. They’re alive, I guess. But next time, no Salt-N-Pepa, Mike!”

52 notes · View notes

almasy-fics · 6 years

Text

Retail Hell

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh Chapter: 1/? Rating: M (Subject to change) Warnings: Swearing, perving and aged up characters Pairing: Seto Kaiba/OFC Summary: Seto Kaiba has no choice but to shop for himself when his personal stylist ends up sick and ends up in a store named Dapper Gentleman Boutique. He's got the hots for the sales assistant.

Notes: A purely self indulgent piece of crap with added storyline!

AO3 Link Ko-Fi Link

Seto Kaiba had a personal stylist for a reason.

And this was it.

He had no idea what the hell he was looking at in this so called ‘Dapper Gentleman Boutique’, all the designer apparel was absolutely foreign to him. He knew the brand names of course, he wasn’t some sort of loser who just walked in off the streets, damn it, he was the richest CEO in all of Japan. Money was a mere object when it came to his clothing choices, he just would much prefer someone else to do the hard work for him.

How dare his stylist come down with pneumonia, stupid human immune systems.

It most certainly didn’t help that Mokuba was hot on his heels commenting on each and every item of clothing he saw…

“Look Seto, this Armani is bright green!”

“Look Seto, this Tom Ford has a hidden pocket for hip flasks!”

“Look Seto, I found a suit with pineapple print!”

“Look Seto, this one from a brand called Antons has people fucking on it.”

Wait what?

Huh, so it does.

He couldn’t find himself to scold Mokuba for swearing, when such a profanity was right in front of them clamoring all over the shirt in various positions. And oh would you look at that, they had both variations of same sex coitus on other shirts in this section, how inclusive.

“I think we’re in the wrong section Seto…”

To be honest, he was too concerned with attempting to shield Mokuba’s poor virgin eyes from the obscenely vulgar images before them to notice that a sales assistant had approached them, the aforementioned woman having to ask twice if they needed any assistance.

Seto appraised her before responding, eyeing her petite form before them. She was an obvious foreigner with her pale white skin, the waist high black pencil skirt accentuated her curves perfectly, noticing the way she stood tall in the black high heels she wore. Her ample breast size was accentuated by the deep purple long sleeved shirt she wore that was tucked into her skirt and she had the first three buttons undone to show a tasteful amount of cleavage. Several piercings were in her visible right ear and on her right nostril, glimmering in the natural light of the store. She adjusted her equally deep purple locks that were pinned to her left side whilst eyeing the brothers with apprehensive curiosity with her emerald green eyes behind wired spectacles. There was no doubt she knew who they were, he could just see it in the way she looked at them.

If he wasn’t so epically pissed off with his stylist right now, maybe he would have responded to this bombshell more politely.

“I’m fine.” He grunted, glowering down to her. Even with her high heels, she only came up to his chest, those extra five inches to her height not adding much. If she took those off and went down on her knees, maybe she could- No. Stop Seto! Down boy, bad! Do NOT sexualise the woman. Those shirts in front of them be damned, set them all alight. Burn the witch!

She raised an eyebrow.

“We need suits, please. Big brother’s stylist is sick so we don’t know what we need to get.” Responded Mokuba. Oh sweet little brother, always knowing when to take charge.

“Oh?” If she raised her eyebrow any higher he could have sworn she would have acquired a microphone out of nowhere and quote a certain superstar word for word.

But no one needs to know that he knows what the WWE is, and people definitely don’t need to know that he knows The Rock’s most popular catchphrase is ‘Do you smell what The Rock is cookin’?’

“Is there an occasion or is this business?” She asked. He had to give the woman credit, she was acting quite professional considering who exactly she was dealing with. Maybe he should throw her a bone to see how she reacts.

“My twenty-first.” He deadpanned. There, that was a good enough answer.

“And I am supposing we are wanting to steer clear from our exotic collection?” Their collective gazes made their way to the shirts they eyeballing before. Yes, definitely yes. The great Seto Kaiba would never been seen dead in one of those ludicrous things, even if the longer he looked at it, the absurd hilarity of the pattern did make the corners of his mouth shift slightly in amusement.

He just wouldn’t admit it.

“Yes please.” Answered Mokuba for him as he was inner monologuing yet again. He seemed to do that a lot in this store. Just another thing to blame his stupid sick stylist for.

Her plump red lips curved upwards, motioning behind her, “If you would just follow me, I will show you some more appropriate attire. Though to be honest, I do quite love our Antons collection. The store is based in Melbourne and we have an exclusive deal with them. We are the only place in Japan that stocks their products. It’s all so exciting!” She seemed to be happy with the product selection of this so called Antons. It made him wonder what other ridiculous designs the company owned.

Wait. An Australian boutique being a stockist to a Japanese boutique? How completely… odd.

As if she picked up on Seto’s confusion, she began speaking again.

“What? Did you think we were all about Drop Bears, riding Kangaroos to school and Tim Tams?” She stopped in another section of the store and turned back to the men. They were most definitely in a much more suitable part of the stores. No bizarre colours or overly sexual prints anywhere to be seen. “I’m kidding by the way, not about the Tim Tams though. They are amazing.”

“You’re Australian?” Asked Mokuba. Stop getting personal with the staff member, kid. We just need the damn suits!

“Born and raised.” She responded proudly, “Well, except for the past two years where I have been here, of course. Anyway… Do you have a brand preference? Colour preference?”

“Uh…”

“My stylist is the one who makes those decisions.” He deadpanned, earning a mirrored look from the salesperson. Yes, he was one of those customers, deal with it.

“The ones on TV?” Oh so now she was going to acknowledge that she knows who they are.

“Yes.”

“Sorry, but we don’t do shoulder pads for days here. It’s either look like an Aussie hipster, or look like you’re about to walk down the red carpet to a billion dollar budget movie premiere.” She looked the brothers up and down appraisingly before seemingly making up her mind. “You know what, have a look around here, pick what you think your stylist would pick out for you and try them on.”

“I’m not being paid to do your job.” Seto quipped with an impatient venom, yet she still held her professionalism, pushing her spectacles up the bridge of her nose with a single finger. Her eyes held his for a moment before she spoke.

“I am just trying to gauge what I am dealing with, sirs. It’s not very often we get someone of your calibre in here. I’d hate to do wrong by your stylist and choose garments that don’t scream Seto and Mokuba Kaiba.” She had a point. She was attractive and not a complete dunce- shut up Seto, shut up.

“Fine. Let’s do this Mokuba. We don’t have the time to waste.”

“Yes Seto!”

And to the designer suits they went.

“This is what your stylist would choose?”

“Yes.”

“Are you certain this is what they would choose?”

“Of course.”

“In a suit? For your twenty-first?”

“Did I stutter?”

Her arms were crossed against her chest, glaring at the sight before her in the mirror. What the hell was wrong with his choice? He even found a matching one for Mokuba. What the hell was wrong with a grey plaid suit?

Mokuba clearly wasn’t liking his choice either.

“Seto…” He pouted standing beside him in the mirror. Okay, was the world against him today or something? Mokuba always agreed with his choices! This was definitely something his stylist would pick out as a normal suit. Just what was wrong with it?

He swore he heard the salesperson whisper ‘I’m going to kill myself’ in English before attempting to straighten her face. It wasn’t working and she let out a tired sigh. Looks like she was finally showing her true colours.

“You know what, no. Get those abominations off and I will be back momentarily with something that isn’t from the nineteen-eighties.” She briskly walked away and Seto couldn’t help but watch her retreating form in the mirror, marvelling the way her hips swayed in every step, aided by her heels.

“She has a nice ass.”

“Shut up Mokuba.”

She definitely wasn’t making this shopping experience any easier.

The woman came back sooner than expected, several items in her arms. How she did it without tripping in her heels will forever be a mystery to Seto, but nonetheless he had to admit he was impressed with how quickly she came back.

“You want grey? Let’s one up this with a deep silver.” She handed him a silver, fitted Ermenegildo Zegna suit, “Then we match it with a simple white shirt and a cobalt blue tie to match your eyes.” She handed over the shirt and tie, “And for the kiddo we are going to go with a navy blue Tom Ford suit with a white shirt and black tie. Very Daniel Craig James Bond like!”

He saw Mokuba’s eyes light up at the very mention of him looking like Bond. Looks like she won him over. He immediately retreated back into the change room to put it on.

Seto had just a little more convincing to do.

“What? Are you wanting to look like you’re turning twenty-one or look like John Cena’s character in Southpaw Regional Wrestling?”

He heard her laugh quietly to herself when he made his way back into the change room with haste. Did he accidentally voice his guilty pleasure of watching a few tidbits of WWE?

Pfft, of course not. Seto Kaiba doesn’t make mistakes!

Okay, so she may have good taste.

“Damn.” Mokuba approved.

“Damn…” She approved with a smirk.

He could grow to like that smirk, have those juicy red lips all over his- NO! SETO! COMPOSURE! What the hell was wrong with him today?

Damn stupid, idiotic, sick stylist. It’s all your fault!

He looked at himself again in the mirror. He actually looked pretty damn good, and Mokuba most certainly looked like a fuzzy haired James Bond ala Daniel Craig.

“Permission to be painfully honest and Australian.”

Australian? “Fine.��

“Your stylist is a fucking no talent wanker and deserves to be fired.” Ah, so that’s what she meant.

It just made him like her even more.

“Uh Seto, what’s a wanker?” Before he could answer, the salesperson answered for him.

“Australian slang for loser, moron, idiot, douchebag. You get the gist.”

The way she was blatantly insulting the very employee he was upset with made his insides shudder with absolute delight.

Such a sadist.

“Right… So are we getting these ones Seto?” He was already getting out his wallet.

“My only despair is that we don’t sell shoes, I’m afraid. But I implore you not to approach your so called ‘stylist’ to find you the correct footwear. I would be remiss if they ruined my choices with subpar shoes.” A dark laugh escaped her lips as if she were imagining the very scene. Seto almost pictured that she was imagining that they would pair her ever so slightly perfect outfit choices with clown shoes.

How droll.

And did he just compliment her taste in fashion?

“Please get changed, bring these to the counter and I will get them steamed and ring you up!” She retreated to the registers without another word, and gave him the opportunity to watch the way her hips swayed once again.

“Seto, you’re staring.”

“Shut up Mokuba.”

Behind the counter she held that air of professionalism once more. Speaking of which, it looked like she was the only staff member in the store.

Oh, there are the others. Watching from a crack in the door to what he could only presume was the back room.

Cowards.

She wordlessly rung up the items on the register, opting not to voice the total price of the outfits. Not that it mattered, Seto Kaiba was Japanese for filthy rich and it took a swipe of his card and a signature and it was all done.

“I must admit.” She piped up whilst neatly hanging the suits and their accessories in their own bags, “I quite enjoyed this little encounter today.” With a zip everything was good to go and was handed to an eagerly waiting Mokuba. “Perhaps we could do this again sometime.”

That was it.

He pulled out a business card, hastily wrote down some numbers and shoved it into her hand, escaping the store before anyone could register what was going on.

Yes. Seto Kaiba just gave a woman he just met his number.

And he forgot to get her name.

Shit.

#My Writing #Retail Hell #Seto Kaiba x OC #Seto Kaiba #Yu-Gi-Oh #yugioh #Mokuba Kaiba #bants

0 notes