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moonlit-han · 4 years

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stray kids’ reactions to you taking medication for depression & anxiety ↠ all members

genre: reaction word count: 2.4k warnings: discussion of depression and anxiety, description of panic/anxiety attack, swearing request: yes

a/n: hi anon! wow, this one turned highly personal really fast. so, this turned into a combination of your original request and how stray kids would react just knowing that you have depression/anxiety. i think how they’d care for and support you is a large part of their reactions to finding out, if that makes sense. i hope this brings you comfort~

✧ masterlist in bio ✧

bang chan

as with most things, chan would be very understanding

he’d just want you to feel and function the best you could

and not have to worry about whether you’re going to be able to make it through a day

he’d noticed when you first started dating that you occasionally withdrew into yourself

and needed time alone

chan didn’t really think anything of it

bc he also kinda just turns into a hermit and hides to reset and recuperate

but when you’d told him that you take meds for anxiety and depression

his sneaking suspicion that you’d been struggling with something was confirmed

it all made sense!

chan would be immediately and absolutely on board to support you

he wasn’t gonna let those nasty depression demons get the better of his y/n

no! fucking!! way!!! ＼＼\٩(๑`^´๑)۶//／／

when you could stand it, he’d be really cute and cuddly to try to make you feel better

and he’d also research everything about the meds

on the days that you just needed to be left alone, he’d be worried

bc he wouldn’t want you to be lonely or to need him and for him to not be there immediately for you

but sometimes even just the presence of another person is exhausting

even if it’s your partner

he’d always come back with flowers or your favorite kind of pie or curry or something else delicious or beautiful

all he wants is for you to feel like you can face the world

bc he’ll always be there by your side (♡‿♡)

lee minho

minho would be matter of fact and accepting about the whole thing

he wouldn’t be fussed

and would just accept that sometimes you’d be less than cheerful

and that it has nothing to do with him or his actions

while he wouldn’t necessarily understand the ins and outs of depression and/or anxiety,

he would still be totally committed to supporting you

he’d be glad that you have meds

because it’s hard for him to see you so down and feeling so blank

he just wants you to be okay

he’ll ask if you’re okay and what he can do

sometimes he just has to ask you a few times

just to be sure

for his own peace of mind

if any family, friends, coworkers, anyone gave you shit about your depression and anxiety

minho would be the kind of person to just:

Σ(☉‿☉✿)Σ(☉‿☉✿)Σ(☉‿☉✿) “hold my flower”and prepare to fight the world for you

alkjfhakjfdhkj

minho would always make sure that you have your meds on time

either going to pick them up from the pharmacy for you

or reminding you to get them yourself

he’d also remind you to take the meds on your especially bad days

when you can’t exactly think or do much else

while he jokes that cats are the best medicine for anything

minho knows and agrees that medication for mental illness and such is important

bc it helps you be able to function

but that doesn’t stop him from trying his best to make you feel energized and focused through other means!

you have a weekly picnic date, even after dating for two years

it’s the sweetest thing ever

and definitely helps (≧◡≦)

seo changbin

it was the first time you slept over at his place

(a really lovely evening with lots of sweet cuddling ｡ﾟ(ﾟ∩´﹏`∩ﾟ)ﾟ｡ )

(((oh no now i’m soft HHHH)))

and you’d left your bag sitting out in the living room

changbin had thought it would be nice if he got your things for you in the morning

and he also wanted to make you breakfast (✿◠‿◠)

so he'd gone to pick up your bag and saw the little pill bottle

and was just “oh, okay~”

when he'd come into the bedroom, changbin looked a little nervous?

bc he wasn’t quite sure how to ask you what meds you were taking

he wasn’t really worried or anything

he just wanted to support you with absolutely no judgement because meds aren’t a bad thing~

he was so understanding and immediately, like chan, researched everything he could about helping someone with anxiety and depression

and then made you breakfast bc that’s wonderful anytime at all

on the days you felt like you couldn’t get out of bed

(or simply couldn’t whether you wanted to or not)

changbin would be there

if you could stay in bed the whole day, then he’d stay with you

if you had to get up and actually do things, he’d do his best to help you

he’d make you food, help you shower, even pick out clothes for you so that you wouldn’t have to think

he’d understand that sometimes you need a bit of a prod to do things

changbin would definitely try his best to make those reminders as caring and lighthearted as possible

after all, you don’t exactly have control over when lack of motivation strikes

changbin would understand and know a lot of the feelings you have

and be able to empathize based on his own experiences

really, he would just continue to love you ♡

hwang hyunjin

hyunjin, oh sweet hyunjin

he’d be so understanding

and would feel really sorry for you

but not in a weird, pitying way

just sad that your brain had decided to betray you in such a way

*insert all the empathy here*

he knows all too well the feelings of hopelessness you sometimes feel

he’d be glad that you have meds, actually

and would even remind you when you have therapy (if you do)

he’d probably send you random “when you have anxiety/depression” memes

you’ve busted out laughing at inopportune times more than once from said memes

when you’re in a depressive episode, hyunjin would be like a cat

just curled up with you as much as possible

if you can’t stand to have someone near you

then, he’d still text you cheesy stuff like those ridiculous valentine’s day pickup lines that are, in fact, funny at any time of the year

oh and don’t forget about the utterly sincere, will-make-you-cry texts, love letters, post-it notes, notes written in blueberries on the counter, and even signs he’d write for you

one day, you’d even opened a lunch he’d made you to find a little note rolled up around your fork:

“hi hello yes you, the pretty one reading this! i love youuuuuu~ have a wonderful day, darling

p.s. remember to take your meds <3”

hyunjin’s gentle nature would be just what you needed

to support you

to love you

to care for you, not only emotionally but also physically

he’d be like a sheltering tree for you

grounded and calm with deep roots, but able to bend with whatever wind your depression/anxiety decided to gust through your lives

han jisung

jisung would…

well, jisung would just:

“AAAAAY, ANXIETY BUDDIES!!” (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ;;;;;;

ajkdfhaljkfghaljf

definitely not the response you’d been expecting

but it was perfect nonetheless

you spent an afternoon together just talking about how your anxiety and depression manifested

what helped you to cope

what helped him to cope

which meds you took and if there was anything jisung should be particularly aware of

he’d be really interested in just how your depression and anxiety manifest

bc in order to care for you and help

he wants to know what bit of your brain chemistry has decided to fuck shit up

(sometimes jisung feels like he needs to fuck shit up, too. but really? come oooon y/n’s brain)

he’d leave you notes reminding you to do things when your ability to focus goes completely out the window

you’d wake up to find one of those large sheets of poster paper taped to the ceiling above your bed, saying:

“i love you, even if you have depression/anxiety that makes you forget to do the dishes. again. you’re still my little gremlin <3”

jisung would give you any and all resources he has to help you

he’d probably even write songs for you

there’d probably a mixtape out there somewhere of him screaming at your depression and anxiety

telling them to leave you the fuck alone

bc you’re too wonderful to have to deal with that shit

your weekends together would be spent in the bedroom

under the covers

giggling your asses off

and cuddling

bc it’s dangerous outside the blanket ( ｀^´ )

lee felix

felix would be so chill about it

you’d tell him and he’d just be like

“okay! so what kinds of toppings did you want me to put on this pizza again?”

you’d just kinda blink at him

you’d been worrying about what he’d say

and if he’d leave you or something

(thanks, irrational brain. love you. NOT! ffs)

as if lee felix would ever leave you,,,,,,

it was a relief not to worry about that

felix would still bundle you up in the biggest hugs ever

and smile his sunshine-filled smile at you

honestly, that alone should be enough to cure depression

but, unfortunately, it’s not

((*shakes fist at depression/anxiety*))

but with felix’s smile and meds, you’re feeling much better, thank you

felix would try to make life brighter for you after finding out

he’d understand that sometimes you want to do things but just can’t

there’s no rhyme nor reason to it

and it wouldn’t matter to him

bc he’d still get to spend time with you, even if it just meant sitting on the couch watching movies

felix would know that sometimes he would just have to make decisions for you

not in a controlling way

but just because your anxiety over making decisions and following through with things would get the better of you

he’d make sure you drink water and eat lots of yummy food

his deep voice is the most calming thing oh my god

and whenever you have an anxiety/panic attack

felix would immediately catch you up in his arms and slow dance with you through the entire episode

even if you’re barely able to stand, he’d hold you up and support you

just so, at an incredibly scary time, you’d have the most loving arms around you

kim seungmin

you were having a panic attack when seungmin came over one time

and you’d just kinda slumped against the wall as soon as he’d come in the door

aaaand you’d had to explain what was going on

but seungmin had just helped you breathe deeply

and eventually you’d calmed down to the point that you felt like

well, like a limp noodle (＠_＠)

you know that feeling when your body is so exhausted from having a panic attack

that you can’t exactly do much else?

yeah. that.

so, he would be glad that you have meds for your depression/anxiety

like jisung, seungmin would want to have A Stern Conversation with your depression/anxiety

bc he’s tired of its shit ψ(｀-´ )ψ

not because he can’t deal with it or you

because he hates to see you in so much distress

also,,,,,,

no one should have to feel like there’s no joy left in the world, irrational thinking rules their brain, and like they’re trapped in a cycle of dysfunction, no matter how hard they try

bc sometimes just trying isn’t enough

and seungmin understands that~

sometimes you just need a little outside help

he’d come up with all sorts of things he could do for you to help ease your anxiety

he’d write down all your triggers just so he’d know what avoid

or what to tell other people to avoid alkdfjhakljdfh

bc we all know seungmin is that person (-_-;)・・・

when he found out that you have trouble deciding on food at restaurants

he’d immediately printed out the menus to all the restaurants you loved

just so you could take your time deciding at home

and not feel overwhelmed

aksjfhlskfjdh what a good bean

seungmin is just a sweetie who wants the best for you, really

plus, when you’re feeling better….

the two of you can go on adventures!! (⌒▽⌒)

yang jeongin

jeongin would be a little baffled that someone’s brain could be that cruel to them

“you mean you sometimes just can’t be happy?”

“yep, or function, really. sometimes moving or getting out of bed or eating just isn’t a thing”

‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚

“don’t worry about. i’m on meds for it so it’s not as bad”

(◕︵◕);;;;

“jeongin i promise it’s okay…..”

“HHHHHHHHHH”

you just ended up cuddling him and explaining how depression and anxiety worked

(or rather, how fucking annoying and, even, debilitating they are)

that made him happier bc he understood

he’d try to help you do things that help with the depression

like going for walks

or drinking enough water

definitely regulating your sleep

jeongin: “i know, i know, y/n! it’s hard but you haaaave to wake up”

y/n: “mmph” (￢_￢)

jeongin: *lightly swats you with a pillow* “get! up!!”

y/n: *grumpgrumpgrump*

nights are even harder alkjhsjkslkfjhs

jeongin, on the phone: “no you’re not being a night owl tonight. no! y/n~~~~ come on, i’m tired and wanna go to sleep”

y/n: “but i’m not tired!! i’m just gonna play one more round of this and then go to bed. i promise!”

jeongin, not having any of your shit: “uhuh….”

y/n, *sweats*: “i promiiiiiiiiise”

…………………

3 am

jeongin, via email: “this is an automated reminder to G O T O S L E E P”

y/n: “shit.”

he’d want to be there to listen to you whenever you needed him

even though he doesn’t have much experience with this sort of thing

jeongin would do his best as a kind and properly aware person

like everyone else, he just wants you to be okay

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cauliflowercounty · 4 years

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Firsts (Harry Potter x Reader)

House: You Choose

Blood Status: You Choose

Request: Hi!! Do you think you could write a Harry Potter x reader where they are friends with the trio and Harry says something funny and mid laugh reader casually says “I love you” in a platonic way and Harry gets quiet bc he’s never heard anyone say that before and the reader makes a note to tell him every day that he is loved and it eventually becomes more?????? It came to my mind at work and I can’t stop thinking about it. Thank you so so much💕

A/n

-----

Tossing his book bag to the side, Ron huffs as he sits down next to Harry and Hermione. He’s obviously in a tizzy. He runs his hands through his hair, breathing out heavily trying to defuse his anxiety.

“What’s wrong, Ron?” you ask as you approach the group, knowing something must have happened to reduce Ron to such a state.

“It’s Malfoy and his cretins again,” Ron grumbles. “They were on Ginny and me about how our family is dirt and we’ll never get anything in life because our father is poor. The usual. He also told us something along the lines of ‘I, unlike you, am not a disgrace to wizards and purebloods, so he has the right to tell us off. He’s an absolute rotten git.”

“Ignore him Ron,” Hermione retorts. “The rise he gets out of you is what he wants. He’s just seeking attention. If you ignore him he’ll find someone else to mess with.”

“Good point, Hermione, but he never seems to move on. I’m so tired of Malfoy. It’s been years at this point,” you add. “I would think he would have run out of things to say about us. It’s like someone’s feeding him insults to use.”

“You think Draco’s imaginative enough to come up with new material all the time? His head’s full of dry, old, expired Christmas pudding from last year and sand. His dear old daddy, Lucius, is his source,” Harry quips, prompting a you to crack up laughing.

“Oh my god, Harry! That’s too accurate. I absolutely love you!” you say through your giggles, trying to get a hold of yourself. Harry just stares at you, a bit taken a back. As soon as you see the look on his face, you freeze and your laughter ceases. “Uh oh,” you think.

Hermione and Ron have noticed the sudden stop.

“Harry?” You ask softly, a look of worry spreading over your face. “Did I say something wrong?”

“N-no, y/n,” Harry stutters, shaking just head quickly, trying to ease the tension and your nervousness. He gets up quickly and takes your hand, pulling you aside and down the hall to an empty classroom. Hermione and Ron give each other a look as you both disappear from sight.

As soon as you’re alone with Harry, he takes a deep breath. You’re officially scared. You’ve been friends with Harry for a long time and you know if he pulls you aside somewhere to have a private conversation, it’s serious. Most often, it’s about dangerous or he’s going to break the rules again and he needs your help. Harry notices the apprehension in your stance and the look on your face easily.

“Sorry, y/n, if I’ve scared you at all,” Harry starts. “It’s just what you said...”

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask. As soon as you say that the realization dawns on you. “It was the ‘I love you’ wasn’t it? Did it make you uncomfortable? Oh, God. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Harry. It was meant to be like a friendly ‘I love you.’ It won’t h-!”

“No, no, no!” Harry says as quickly as he hears what you’re saying. “It’s not that... it didn’t bother me at all. It was actually... welcome, if I’m honest. It’s just I don’t hear it a lot. The Dursley’s weren’t really the cuddliest of people towards me.”

You nod in agreement, and Harry looks into your eyes as if to say thank you.

“Oh, Harry. I’m so sorry. Well, you deserve to hear it, Harry,” you smile. “You should be hearing it all the time.”

“Thanks, y/n,” Harry grins as you bring him into a hug. He sighs as he wraps his arms around you in return, a warm tingly feeling glowing in his chest. As you break away, you giggle a bit. Harry looks down at his scuffed up trainers in the cute, shy way he does when he’s a bit nervous or there’s an awkward pause.

“Come on, Harry,” you say finally. “Hermione and Ron are all alone. We should get back before they get in a fight and Hermione resorts to calling him ‘Ronald’ and he’s ignoring her at every turn.”

“Yeah,” Harry chuckles as you grab his hand and pull him away. “They’re pretty lost without us.”

After your private conversation with Harry, you had been thinking about what he’d said. You felt sad that just casually saying “i love you” had had such an effect on Harry. It had made him shocked and surprised, which was a bit heart breaking but at the same time understandable because of his upbringing. From that day forth, you had made a commitment to coming up to Harry and telling him he’s loved or cared for. You made sure to do it in moments where there weren’t a lot of people around, especially the Slytherins because Harry’d never see the end of it if Draco and his posse overheard. Plus, it was something between the two of you and not for the world.

In your opinion, your endeavor was highly successful. The first two or three times, it caught Harry off guard and you could sense he felt on the spot, but you always lightened the mood with a good talk over a butterbeer or some sort of magical sweet. After a while, Harry got more and more used to hearing “I love you” and not before long, he began to smile very time you said it, even looking forward to it daily. He’d wonder when you’d say it each day and you never failed to tell him.

You also enjoyed telling him “i love you” from day to day. it was like a little moment that would was guaranteed to make you smile no matter what. Even if the day was horrible, that one interaction with harry would make it all better because of the look on his face. The way his cheeks grow slightly pink and how wide his smile gets was always a little treat. It made you happy to see Harry like this.

After about a month and a half of this, you’d noticed a new pattern in Harry’s behavior every time you’d come into the room and not just when you were saying your daily “i love you.” He’d now become bashful and fiddle with his quill or the hem of his clothes. When Harry was nervous usually, he’d grip his wand tightly or stare off in front of him as if he had some sort of purpose or direction. Clenching his fist was a good tell for Harry’s nervousness or anxiety level, but this was different.

Finally, your concern overtook you and now you’re facing Harry in and abandoned classroom.

“Harry?” you say looking straight at him. “What’s been going on? I’ve noticed you acting different around me. When I first started this “I love you thing,” I checked with you and you said that you were okay with it. Did that change? You know I respect your boundaries and if you want me to stop I will. Please just communicate with me? The last thing I want to do is destroy our friendship.”

“Y/n,” Harry says, reaching out and gripping you by your arms to try to calm you. He could tell you were about to start rambling. “Like I said, I’m not uncomfortable. It’s okay. I just... I guess now’s a good time to say what I’ve been thinking....”

“Are you okay?” you ask softly. “Whatever you’re about to say to me sounds serious.”

“I-i...,” Harry trails off, taking his hands back and placing them on his hips. He exhales deeply and turns away for a second. Something must be looming over him. A moment later, he turns back and readjusts himself. “I just wanted to tell you... No. I’m just going to come out with it. I like it when you tell me “i love you,” y/n. It really makes my day.”

“I’m so glad you feel that way, Harry,” you respond, your heart warming knowing that what you’re doing is making Harry feel good.

“It’s just changed something for me... How I see you... and how I feel about you,” he admits anxiously. “I get so happy when you come up to me and I’ve realized that I want to hear that all the time, but I want you to mean it, mean it and not just say it because you’re my friend and I should hear that people love me more often.”

“Oh, Harry,” you gasp, not ever expecting this would be how this conversation would evolve.

“That’s why I’ve been acting different around you. I’ve been wrestling with this,” Harry explains. “For as long you’ve been saying this, it’s just been a nice gesture, and I don’t know if I can take it if that’s how it’s always going to be. Each time you come up, I get this feeling I want you to be closer to me. I... y/n I want us to be more than friends, but ‘us’ seems like an impossibility, and each time you’ve come up to me for the past few weeks, I’ve been considering distancing myself to spare myself the heartache. That’s why I’ve been acting strange.”

Initially, you’re shocked and surprised, but you smile at him and rush forward and wrap him up in a tight hug.

“Is that how you really feel, Harry?” you murmur over his shoulder into his ear, and you feel him nod. “That’s a relief because in the last few weeks, I’ve been feeling different about you. too. It makes me happy to see you smile. I love your company and I want you around all the time. I’ve meant every ‘I love you’ I’ve said for weeks. I feel the same way.”

You both pull back and look into each other’s eyes and break out into laughter, grinning like idiots.

“So... I guess we’ve been thinking the same thing for weeks and we never once addressed it?” you chuckle.

“I guess so,” Harry nods. You shake you head with another laugh building in your chest.

“How come other couples make getting together out to be so much easier, but it takes us weeks to figure out what’s going on?” you ask with a fake exasperated sigh.

“I don’t know, but we got there in the end,” Harry concludes as he takes your hand in his. “Let’s go, y/n. We should be getting back.”

“So we’re... together now?” you ask, still in disbelief. “Just like that?”

“No. We’ve been demoted to acquaintances. This interaction was way too much for our teenage brains to handle. Of course we are!” Harry jokes. “But only if you want to, y/n.”

“Okay, okay. Stop stalling and beating around the bush. I like you, Harry,” you state. “and you admitted you like me AND said you wanted us to be together. I also said that, too. Now, by the law of mutual confessions, we are now obligated to try to be together or are in fact together. Do you object to this logic?”

“Not at all,” Harry replies, laughing at your formality. He smiles at you and slowly leans in, bringing his lips inches away from your own. “Is this okay?”

You nod at him and he closes the gap, You close your eyes. The kiss is perfect and gentle. As your heart leaps in your chest, Harry wraps his free arm around you. Breaking away after a few blissful moments, Harry grins at you.

“Hermione and Ron are going to have a field day when we tell them,” you whisper to him.

“Don’t remind me,” Harry mumbles. “That’s a problem for later,” he sighs, going back in for one more kiss, and you and Harry are finally on the same wavelength. This has been a long time coming.

#Harry Potter #golden trio era #harry potter x reader #y/n #hp #hp fanfic

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laryna6 · 3 years

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I saw an article title about how trigger warnings are doing more harm than good, and I didn’t click on it at the time, but while trigger warnings are a good idea bc people have the right to choose what to read, etc. people who are legitimately triggered and have trauma and psychological issues really need to be warned.

Avoiding content out of fear that it will trigger you WILL make the trigger and associated trauma WORSE.

Avoiding the trigger is still a valid choice to make if eg. it’s already so bad for your function to be exposed to the trigger that it doesn’t really change anything if it gets worse. A lot of recovery is about reclaiming agency, so ‘I’m choosing to avoid not bc trauma but because I don’t want to deal with this right now’ is fine.

And of course people without triggers going ‘I’m not into rape’ is fine.

But if you’re checking for trigger warnings on a certain topic bc you’re worried about what seeing that trigger will do to you, then avoiding things you would otherwise do gives that trigger more power over you and your emotional state.

It basically gives you anxiety/increases your anxiety about that trigger, meaning that when you run into it without warning, your brain’s reaction will be much worse, because you’ve been thinking over and over again ‘oh god if I see this it’s going to be awful’ and so your brain fulfills that prediction.

In this way a minor trigger can become a major trigger.

The big tip for managing fear/anxiety is ‘do not let the anxiety take control over your behavior away from you,’ so if you really hate your anxiety and anxiety is the main reason you do not want to do a thing go do that thing. Giving into the anxiety = worse anxiety, doing the thing and something bad happens = anxiety stays the same, doing the thing and nothing happens = less anxiety.

Exposing yourself to something that bothers you = desensitization = taking away its power over you. In cases of severe traumas don’t do this without psychological advice!

But like ‘should a rape victim be reading about fictional rapes?’ the answer is yes. Rapists rape for power. They want what they did to fuck the victim up and control them. Avoiding mentions of rape increases the power that rape has over the victim’s mind and decision-making and makes them worse affected by what was done to them. It gives the rapist what they wanted.

On the other hand, repeatedly choosing ‘this has rape? What the rapist did to me makes me want to cringe and avoid it? What was done to me does NOT control my life and my choices’ gradually destroys the power the rapist has over the victim. Also given how the mind sorts and stores memories and connections, if every time someone hears the word ‘rape’ they think about what was done to them, creating and storing a new memory of the entire experience, that’s very bad. If, however, the word ‘rape’ calls up not just what was done to them, but a lot of female gaze fiction written prioritizing female pleasure, where the rapist isn’t a figure of power but simply a pawn there to fulfill other people’s desires...’

It does the equivalent of ‘that Texas hotline wants people to turn in people who need abortions? Let’s fill it with a lot of junk data so it’s useless as a tool for hurting vulnerable people.’

One of the big tools for overcoming trauma is staging a scene where the traumatic thing starts to happen, but with a different outcome. Reading fiction containing a version of a traumatic experience where it goes better bc it’s just a fantasy there to serve the reader (rather than reader as victim) or these people are fictional and therefore no one really gets hurt and the reader gets the experience of no one being hurt does exactly that.

So the fact that a lot of rape fantasy material is written by survivors of rape and sexual abuse makes perfect sense, because a writer (mostly) has control over what they write, and taking a metaphor for a situation intended to take power away from them and instead using that metaphor in a situation where they are basically god is both excellent therapy and an excellent ‘fuck you.’

#trigger warning #trigger warning rape #trigger warning warning #rape mention

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a-hundred-jewels · 3 years

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cruel summer ch 12: i have these lucid dreams

Ao3 Wattpad

Summary: sabrina starr, pegasuses, and oh no! the fourth wall broke! do we have a carpenter in the audience?

Word Count: 9000 ish

Tags: Rachel Elizabeth Dare/Jane Penderwick, Rosalind Penderwick/Tommy Geiger, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Jane Penderwick, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, Rosalind Penderwick, Skye Penderwick, Chiron (Percy Jackson), Martin Penderwick, Elizabeth "Batty" Penderwick, Elizabeth Penderwick (senior), Iantha Aaronson-Penderwick, Ben Aaronson-Penderwick, Nico di Angelo, Will Solace, Annabeth Chase, Jeffrey Tifton-McGrath, Percy Jackson, Demeter (Percy Jackson), Apollo (Percy Jackson), Camp Half-Blood (Percy Jackson), Camp Half-Blood AU, Demigods, demeter!elizabeth penderwick, demeter!rosalind (second generation), demeter!batty (second generation), apollo!alec mcgrath, apollo!jeffrey (second generation), demeter!jane (second generation), demeter!skye (second generation), all of that's in no particular order, main focus is on jane because i love her and she's so so fun to write, tomsalind is there (and stuff will happen - i can't really say what, it will really be eventful though), yes of course there's solangelo, takes place right before Penderwicks In Spring, After Trials of Apollo, more tags to come??, Minor Swearing

Notes and Full Chapter below cut:

Hello everyone and welcome back! I'll admit, this is a little later today than I'd been planning to post (was hoping to get an early start), but hey! If the Puppet History season 4 finale can be late, then so can I!

First off, a massive massive thank you to waterbottle_stickers for being the best beta reader ever. This chapter would be a mess without you. Also, if you haven't already, please check out their enola holmes fic wherever you stray, i follow it's truly wonderful.

If you've been following me on tumblr, then you'll know that, in addition to reblogging an alarming quantity of good omens fanart, I've been making some plans for fics this month. The original plan from back in august was to post every day of the month, but... ahhh.... I just don't work that fast lmao. I'll have to be content with just posting a fair amount this month. Happy october! Anyway, stay tuned.

On this fine day, we've got two lovely QUEER fanfic recommendations that I'm very excited to share. Up first is one from the tumblr blog izzielizzie (which you should all absolutely check out! especially if you're into the one of us is lying fandom!). it centers around the skye/melissa pairing and their senior prom, which Skye is said to have only gone to last minute, and also wearing a lab coat, in a passage of the penderwicks at last. featuring some oblivious lesbians and also jane. once again a massive thanks to izzielizzie, as this fic is one of my favourites!. click here to take a look! (also keep an eye on her blog in general bc her penderwicks fics are awesome!)

The second fanfic is also one I'm very fond of, as it focuses on the siblinghood of skye and jane, which is one of my favourite topics on earth. check out rolling down the ancient high street by hanchewie/ramblemadlyon (tumblr and ao3 respectively) for the sibling antics of aroace skye and bisexual jane when the latter visits the former at her college in california! and, if you like it, ramblemadlyon has two other penderwicks fics from the past couple days that look fantastic as well, and that I look forward to reading.

This chapter is dedicated to my therapist, since I've decided this will be the month of oddly specific dedications. thank you for telling me to stop referring to cruel summer as my "trash baby" and help me recognize the true worth that it holds in my life.

Disclaimer: not my characters, you know the drill. Jeanne Birdsall and Rick Riordan are lucky ducks indeed. chapter title is (obviously) from "lucid dreams" by Juice WRLD.

FROM THE POV OF JANE PENDERWICK

The woods loomed around me, seeming as tall as buildings as they invited me in further. I took another step, the sharp pain of a pinecone digging into my foot barely registered in my mind. I kept walking. A crack sounded throughout the air, and, behind me, a tree splintered round its base and fell down, only inches away from crushing me dead, and completely blocking the path out.

Frightened, I began to run, looking for a way out of the forest. But no matter which way I went, there were only trees in front of me. Where was the path? Where was the grassy hill I had walked down to get in here in the first place. Had I even walked down that hill to begin with? Now that I thought about it, I wasn’t sure I remembered coming here. I wasn’t sure I remembered waking up this morning, or going to bed last night, or anything besides existing in the forest. Who was I? What was I doing here? How could I get out?

Panicking, I stood in the middle of a clearing, looking frantically at the trees around me, trying to find something familiar. Nothing. I was exhausted. How long had I been here? An hour? A day? A lifetime? I collapsed at the base of a tree, sobbing as I tried to remember. Something. Anything.

Then, a voice echoed around me. “Welcome,” it said, and my mind went black.

I bolt upright in bed, a scream halfway out of my throat. I clamp it back, not wanting to wake my cabinmates. Thin light whimpers through the window--enough for me to see my white-knuckle grip on the sheets, but not enough to pass as daylight.

What time is it?

Our cell phones don’t really work here--that was one of the first things Miranda told us when we arrived, and Batty’s been gleefully lording it over us that her Mp3 player will still play music and, like, function, while our smart phones recline sadly in our duffel bags. That being said, I don’t feel quite brave enough to get out of my bed just yet and tiptoe over to the big analog clock that Rio bought at a pawn shop in Colorado. Maybe my phone will at least show the time.

I reach under my bed and fumble for my duffel, hooking my pinky through the zipper loop and yanking it out onto my floor. My phone’s in the front pocket, buried under two pairs of headphones, several gum wrappers, and some strawberry leaves (?????). A piece of gum peels off the screen as I disentangle my phone, and I mentally chide my past self for being so messy.

My phone does not turn on. Big clock it is.

I tiptoe across the cold tile and peer around the tree.

5:45 .

Jesus Pagan Christ.

It’s too early to wake anyone up (as I think this, Batty lets out a snore to rival any crabby Tyrannosaurus Rex), so I wrap a blanket around myself like a criminally attractive burrito, and creep out onto the porch, with my notebook and pen tucked into my shirt.

As long as I live, I will never get tired of summer mornings. There’s something deeply lovely about the soft light of the still-sleepy, pink lemonade sun, the quiet anticipation of the cool air, damp from dew and preparing for the upcoming heat. At home in Cameron, Skye’s woken me up many an early morning to go for a run or do soccer drills or for a grueling “Seven Minute Workout Except You Don’t Follow The Rules And Torture Your Sister by Making It Actually A Forty-Nine Minute Workout.” (But it’s okay, I’m not bitter). But, as delightful as those experiences have all been, I don’t think Skye really gets it. The beauty of the summer morning is not what it can do for your workout schedule, but rather in its gentle softening of an otherwise boiling day. It is to be appreciated in the way that I am now, sitting curled up on this frighteningly creaky porch (I mean, seriously, who built this?) and calling up the Sabrina Starr section of my brain to try and write away the residual panic from my nightmare.

Sabrina sighed as the plane took off. She wasn’t sure if she should have followed the voice in her head telling her to come here. Saying it out loud--even just thinking it--made it sound ridiculous. A dream, a voice in her mind. Barely more than a whim.

Worse than that, Sabrina wasn’t even sure where this whim was taking her. On a napkin in her pocket, she’d scrawled everything she remembered about the dream from the night before. The dark sky, lit only with spiderwebs of lightning, the shadowy figure huddled on a beach and soaked through with rain. The voice crying for help.

And a name. Aeaea.

After she’d woken up, Sabrina had looked up Aeaea, too tired to fully connect why the name felt familiar. Her heart had sunk further after reading the Wikipedia entry, and a breath of hopelessness had left her lips. According to the internet, Aeaea was not a real place. It had been the island prison of Circe. Fiction wasn’t new to Sabrina, and neither was mythology (she recalled an adventure spent with a ghost called Rainbow from a few years back).

Fictional places, though, were another matter. How could she get somewhere if she didn’t know where she was going? Was she trusting her gut with too much this time?

Sabrina folded up the napkin and put it back in her pocket. There was no point in worrying about that now. She’d looked at enough maps to make a guess at where Aeaea might be if it was real. When she got there, she could get more information. Sabrina Starr had survived this long in her career of rescues and whims. She could survive one more adventure. Worst case scenario, she said to herself, I spend a few days running around for nothing and have to brush up on my Greek.

She repeated it to herself like a promise. Worst case scenario, worst case scenario… Eventually, tired out from all her anxieties, and from trying desperately not to worry about what would come next, Sabrina fell asleep.

FROM THE POV OF RACHEL ELIZABETH DARE

“Okay, I give up. Tell me what’s wrong.” Annabeth’s voice startles me away from my plate of eggs, which I had been pushing around with a fork. Anxiety bubbles in my throat, just as it had been since I woke up, and food just doesn’t sound like a good idea.

“I--what?”

Annabeth waves her hand impatiently. “Don’t play dumb. I’ve been talking to you for five minutes and I don’t think you’ve looked up once. Also you’re always hungry in the mornings, so unless you, like, ate an entire cow before I got here, this ,” she gestures to my uneaten eggs, “is unusual behaviour.”

I give her a look. Sometimes, I get the feeling that Annabeth exists as a part of multiple different dimensions at once, like she’s having four other conversations that I can’t hear, and is still ten steps ahead of me in the one I’m actually a part of.

Or maybe I’m just easy to read.

“Nothing’s wrong.” I don’t want to talk about it. “I’m fine.” I’m terrified.

Annabeth sighs. “Is this about the prophecy?”

“No,” I spear another piece of egg, and don’t eat it. “Maybe. Yes.” I feel like going back to my cave and staying there for the rest of my life. Waiting with a book and some paints for the prophecy to get bored and go away. Maybe I’d take Jane with me, or Nico, for some company. That sounds nice.

My plate is pulled away from me as I aim my fork again. “I can’t pay attention when you do that,” Annabeth huffs. I think I wouldn’t invite her to stay in my cave. She’s too on the nose when I want to mope. Then again, she says the same about me.

“Fine,” I turn and face her. “Let’s talk feelings.” Connor Stoll, who had been making his way towards our table, abruptly turns around and walks the other way. I should get Chiron to hire a therapist. Gods know we need it.

Further proving my point, Annabeth’s eyes widen a little, before she remembers it is I who will be spilling. (I make a point to corner her later. It’s a routine we have). “Wow. You broke fast.”

I nod. “I’m tired and you’re annoying.” (False. We both know it. Another routine). “Like you said, I’m nervous about the prophecy.”

Annabeth nods. “And?”

I frown. “What do you mean, and ? There’s no and.”

Annabeth frowns back at me. A mirror, a mime, an annoyance. The nerve to look disappointed in me. “I thought you were spilling, Red.”

I roll my head back and study the roof of the pavilion, which Annabeth designed, and slowly lean my head down to stare at the table. I really don’t want to have this conversation. I go along anyways. “I’m worried about Jane.”

Annabeth leans back, triumphant. “Ah, yes. Your girlfriend.”

Maybe if I try reeeeeeeally hard, I can activate the Oracle of Delphi and freak Annabeth out enough to make her go away. “ Not my girlfriend. You know that.”

“You called Percy my boyfriend for weeks before we actually officially decided.”

I wave my hand dissmissively. “That’s different, you guys were dancing around each other for like three years. You needed a bit of a push. Jane and I kissed once! Over a week ago! And nothing came of it.” We actually haven’t really talked about it. We’re in this sort of in-between zone where we spend a ton of time together, but don’t have a label for it. Honestly, it’s been nice.

Annabeth grins, apparently reading my thoughts. “You’ve been eating lunch with the Demeter cabin, like, every other day. I saw you doing archery together yesterday. Both of you were awful at it, but you stayed there for hours. I’ve never seen you focus on something that long outside of your paintings.”

I stare at the ceiling again. Maybe Annabeth designed it so that a single square foot of rock might fall down onto my head and relieve me from this conversation. “Yes, fine, we spend a lot of time together. But that doesn’t make us a couple, and has nothing to do with what I’m actually worried about!” I can see in her face that Annabeth is more serious now, and is about to fully listen to me, when Percy and Malcolm show up, sliding into the seats across from us, and clanging several plates of pancakes down onto the table in front of them.

“Made them ourselves! Wanna share?” Percy gives Annabeth heart eyes and a kiss on the cheek when she folds a large blue pancake into thirds and bites it like a burrito. I roll my eyes at them because they are a horrifying and disgusting couple and also I kind of want to be them when I grow up. Malcolm ignores them, instead turning to me. “Were you talking about Jane?” he asks, pushing wire rimmed glasses up his nose.

I frown. “Sort of. Why?”

He shrugs, sheepish. “You know. Just, uh, just wondering.”

I narrow my eyes at him, then Percy, who tears himself away from looking at Annabeth to sigh dramatically. “Malcolm wants to ask out Jane’s sister. You know, the blond one.”

I snort. “ Skye? Seriously?”

Malcolm looks vaguely offended. “What’s so weird about that?”

“Sorry, it’s not weird.” I reach over the table to pat him on the shoulder with my fork. “Perfectly normal teenage hormones.” He glares at me and I smile sweetly back. “I just can’t imagine Skye going out with anyone, that’s all.”

Malcolm stares down at his pancake, disappointed. “Oh. You sure?”

I nod, feeling a little more normal with my friends and less doom-related breakfast conversation. My eggs are past the threshold of “warm and appetizing” but I take a bite anyway. “Pretty sure. Jane told me that she’s aroace and, based on past occurrences, there’s a seventy percent chance she’ll punch anyone who asks her out. Anyway, why the interest? I didn’t know you guys talked.”

Malcolm shrugs. “We don’t, really. She just seems cool.”

Percy pipes in, “He’s been practically obsessed with her since she won that soccer game against the Nike kids and made them cry.”

I nod approvingly. “Well, Malcolm, at least we know you have good taste.”

Annabeth pats him on the head, ignoring his complaints that her hand is covered in blue maple syrup. “Better luck next time, brother of mine.”

Piper and Leo join us next, contributing an alarming volume of grapes and a single hardboiled egg to the breakfast display. Leo grabs a pancake and wraps it around some grapes, before taking a big bite. “I hear you’re discussing Malcolm’s romantic failures,” he says around the world’s worst breakfast burrito. Piper gasps in mock offense, then swallows the unpeeled hardboiled egg whole, like a snake. (This is a regular morning routine. She’s trying to work up to being a sword swallower, since her dad did it in a movie once and she thought it looked like fun). “ Malcolm, why didn’t you come to me? I could have given you a verdict within five minutes!”

“I wanted advice on whether I should ask out that Heaphestus boy two weeks ago and you told me to fuck off.”

Piper pouts at him. “That’s on you, you caught me at a bad time.”

Annabeth holds up a pancake with the air of a respected royal and we turn to her. “As delightful as this is, Rachel and I were initially talking about her romantic prospects and also her worries and fears, and I feel that we should get back to that before she slinks off and avoids the rest of the conversation.”

I glare at her. “Why would you bring this away from the very nice conversation we were having about everyone else’s problems? Do you hate me?” Annabeth rolls her eyes. “No, dumbass, I’m just not letting you walk away from a potential breakthrough. Now, where were we? You were saying that you’re worried about Jane but it has nothing whatsoever to do with your relationship, or lack thereof.”

I give a long suffering sigh, and try to communicate telepathically with Piper that she needs to Save Me Now, but she’s looking at me in interest with her chin resting in her hands, her long fingers adorned with rings sent to her from her Mortal girlfriend, Shel, who bought them at a vintage punk store. The traitor. Defeated, I turn back to Annabeth.

“It’s just that, whatever ends up happening with this prophecy, I don’t want it to fuck her up, in the way the quests have sometimes done to us. Like, we’re used to this by now, but it hasn’t been a smooth road. I don’t exactly like going on quests, and at first I was really worried at the prospect of being included in a prophecy, since that’s fairly abnormal, but Jane was only made aware of her heritage a couple months ago! What if this turns out like Silena or Beckendorf or-or Jason, and the prophecy destroys her, and it’s all my fault because I’m the one who pulled her into all this?”

Everyone tenses up at the mention of Jason, but they continue to look at me with a mixture of concern and love that makes something soften inside of me. For the hundredth time, I think of how lucky I am to have these people who love me unconditionally. Even if they really, really need therapy.

“I know that I didn’t plan any of this, but we’re both tied in now, especially since both Chiron and I had the prophetic dream and I actually gave the prophecy that day in the woods, and, well, this isn’t her world yet. She’s only got a little bit of ichor in her, and she grew up knowing nothing of any of this. In a way, I did too, and I have no ichor, but I had clear sight. For me, it was ineffable, but she could technically leave any time, if it weren’t for the prophecy. She can leave, and I feel like it’s up to me to make sure that doesn’t change.”

“Oh, Rachel.” Annabeth reaches her arms out to me and I let myself be pulled into an embrace. “Jane’s going to be okay. We’ll make sure of it.”

Sabrina stood in line at the boat rental hut, her arms crossed and a frown plastered on her face. It had not been a successful afternoon. For hours, she’d been searching the coastal towns near where her plane landed, looking for some trace of Aeaea, or anything else she’d seen in her dream. She was used to working with dregs. It was normal for her to have to squint a little at the evidence, have to shuffle things together around big holes of “Maybe,” like she was working a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing.

But this was something else.

Sabrina had read about places where mythology shaped the culture. Places where the tourist draws were events that had supposedly happened thousands of years ago, or creatures that only existed in grainy photographs and people’s imaginations. Hell, she’d met the Loch Ness monster. Was it insane for her to have assumed she’d be able to find the same kind of thing here? All her training and years of experience had told her that, if you sniff around long enough, you’ll find a conspiracy theorist or a slightly off-the-rails guidebook.

So far, though, Sabrina had found nothing. Absolutely nothing. She hunted around, searching up library catalogs, checking every store on the street. “Aeaea,” “Circe,” even “the Odyssey.”

Nothing.

The line edged along slowly, and Sabrina ran her hands up and down her arms. The air was chilly from its proximity to the cold sea water. There were three people in front of her now. She just had to wait a little longer, then she would have a boat and be able to explore these waters herself.

Something was wrong with this place. Something was wrong with all of these places. And Sabrina was going to figure out what.

Later, Jane and I are taking our time walking to the pegasus stables to watch the riding lesson that Rosalind has reluctantly agreed to let Batty take (provided that Percy, who’s teaching today, doesn’t let her fly high enough that she’ll die if she falls off, and that Batty wears all of the necessary protective gear). Jane looks lovely, wearing a sunshine-y yellow bandana that sets off her dark curls and warm sepia skin. She has on her Camp Half-Blood shirt again, and a short green skirt, and all of it should clash horribly, but it doesn’t.

We’ve decided to cut through the strawberry fields, and I swallow a sun-warmed strawberry while Jane tells me about the dream she had last night. I think back to my conversation with Annabeth this morning when she tells me of the dark woods and the feeling of drowning, the memory warping and the echoing voice. At some point we sit down in a patch of grass, a simple circle amidst strawberry plants with a couple logs where the campers and satyrs take their breaks when they work here. Jane finishes her story and we sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, only broken by the grunts of annoyance Jane makes while trying to get her plant powers to activate again. She’s been doing that a lot.

“Well that sucks,” I say finally. “Have you been having other dreams like it?”

Jane shrugs, the neon orange fabric of her shirt wrinkling on her shoulders. “One or two, I think. Last night’s was the first one I really remembered. ” She smiles out of the corner of her mouth. “I hardly ever remember my dreams. It used to upset me. I thought I was losing potential writing material.”

I laugh. It’s such a Jane thing to think, that I can’t help it. She goes quiet, like she’s reminiscing, and I picture a tiny version of Jane, sitting crossed-legged on her summer quilt, writing. I look at her now, scrunched up nose and big brown eyes. Oh gods, she must have been an adorable child.

“My mother used to say that my imagination was the eighth wonder of the world,” Jane says. She’s looking down the hill at the cabins, plant powers temporarily forgotten, and I remember her telling me about her mother, the first Elizabeth Penderwick, who came here and was a daughter of Demeter and loved opera. The Penderwick siblings’ beloved mother who died so young.

I move closer to Jane on the log. “I can understand why she’d say that.”

Jane smiles again, a little sad this time, a little absent, but full to the brim with love.

“Bet you she’s in Elysium,” I say softly. I explained the Underworld to Jane a couple weeks ago, and she’d gotten this same absent look on her face, that I now know means she’s thinking about her mother. Jane nods, now, then turns to me. “Could we talk about something else?” Her voice is quiet, her eyes a little shiny.

“Course,” I say. “Shall I regale you with tales of dimwittery at this camp in the years past?” I told her last week about the time some Hermes kids tried to order pizza to the camp, accidently causing Chiron to think we were under attack. Jane had nearly fallen off the bench laughing.

She grins now, but shakes her head. “Tell me what it’s like being an Oracle.” I give her a look. She’s asked me before and I never really know what to say. When I give prophecies, it’s like I black out. I’m taken over by another entity who shares my body. (“Like that lady in Suicide Squad ,” Leo had said when I tried to explain it to him once, but I’d refused to be compared to such a gods-fucking-awful movie). So, in a way, I don’t know what it’s like to be the Oracle.

As if reading my thoughts, Jane shakes her head. “Not that part. I’ve seen you all green and smokey, and I know you can’t feel it. I mean the other stuff. How did you know it was you? What did you have to do to become the Oracle? That kind of thing.” I relax a little. Jane’s asked me all sorts of weird questions about Greek mythology and the gods recently. She calls it “research for her book,” but sometimes I think she’s just nosy. It’s cute.

Jane shrugs and looks off into the distance. If you tilt your head a little you can kind of see the stables from here. We have fifteen more minutes to get there, according to my watch. I decide to take it easy. “Delphi is this weird ethereal spirit,” Jane continues, “but there’s also just everyday, Oracle you, who likes paint and denim and bagels.” At that, I laugh. “I actually don’t like bagels that much. I’m just late to breakfast so often that they’re usually the only things available.”

Jane pouts at me and plays with the bracelet tied around my wrist--the one she gave me. “You know what I mean! You know all this weird shit about me because my siblings don’t shut up at lunch, and I know stuff about you, like the denim thing, which I still think is funny by the way. But you’re also the freaking Oracle! Your dormant self lies waiting!” I laugh at her, and she rolls her eyes, but I see the corner of her mouth tilting up. “Rachel, that’s very cool!”

I give in. “Honestly, there’s not much to say, that’s why I don’t talk about it.” I pause. “Well no, it’s that a lot of the stuff beyond the obvious is actually sort of creepy and weird, and not in a good way. There’s stuff I try not to think about, is what I mean.”

The edge of her yellow bandana sticks up as Jane tilts her head at me. “That makes sense. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

I shake my head. “No, it feels okay right now.” I mean it. Now that I’ve gotten into the swing of it, I do want to talk about it. Still, a small sigh escapes me. “I like being the Oracle, because that’s what brought me to a place where I feel like I belong and I have people who love me. It’s nice to know that I’m fulfilling my purpose in life.”

Jane pulls her knees up to her chest. “But?”

“But I also get lonely.” It comes out in a rush. “There are other oracles, but I didn’t know about any of them until the Apollo thing happened, and even then, they’re all supernatural beings--I know, I know, but not in the way I am. It’s not the same. Also, there are all these weird rules. Like I have to stay an unmarried virgin my whole life.”

“That’s fucked,” Jane says softly.

“I know! Chiron won’t even tell me why, just that it’s ‘the rules’” I let out an annoyed huff. “And, like, it’s not even that the idea itself bothers me. That’s pretty much what I was planning to do with my life anyway.”

“Same.”

“But it’s the principle of the thing!” I flick a strand of hair out of my face, offhandedly noticing that the tip of my pinky finger is slightly green. I ignore it. It’s not important. “Just because I don’t want to have sex or get married doesn’t mean it’s a fair rule to impose on me! Besides, why is it always the women in these things whose identities are tied up in who they do or don’t fuck? Last I checked, Grover didn’t have to sign an ‘I shalt not fornicate’ contract when he became Lord of the Wild!”

“Exactly!” Jane raises her hands and shouts up to the sky. “Don’t you fuckers realize we’re more than that?”

“The Hunters of Artemis, too!” I’m a jack-in-the-box, and something’s winding me up. “Thalia and Reyna send me letters all the time, and they seem really happy! Which is great!” I pause to emphasize the greatness of their happiness. My pinky is completely green, now. “But, they also had to make a stupid ‘ode of chastity,’ like I did!”

“Are you kidding me?” Jane’s hair flips as she turns to me. “I thought Artemis was one of the good ones!”

My voice lowers to a husky rumble, and I stare into the distance towards you, the reader. “In a broken system, there are no good ones. Abolish the police.” I clear my throat and my voice turns back to normal. “Sorry, zoned out for a second.” My green pinky has begun to vibrate.

“Happens to the best of us,” Jane’s voice is light and nonchalant. “And yeah, I know. Pretty much all of the gods have skeletons sitting on their shoulders, but it just seems out of character for her. I thought all of Artemis’s groups were supposed to be safe havens, not oppressive structures in their own right.”

I frown. “Yeah you’re right, that is weird. I’d never thought of it much beyond the gods having weird rules, but I wonder if something bigger is at play. The gods might be fucked up in the way that regular people are, and are undoubtedly responsible for all sorts of crap. But then there's more personal things, like the ‘chastity vows’ the Hunters and I had to take, and the fact that Nico was initially outed by Eros, and the weird unexplained eye condition that Piper had during some of her quests that made her eyes a bunch of bright, Eurocentric colors, rather than their natural brown. All sorts of other stuff, too.”

“Wow!” Jane says, sitting up straight on the grass. Her hand moves from where it was resting in her lap to cover her heart. “It’s almost like a bunch of genuinely good and inspiring material, such as including prominent queer people and characters of color in fun children’s fantasy, as well as having an immortal group of warrior women who support each other and are free from the gaze of men, was taken into the hands of a cis white man armed with unchecked misogyny and a fair amount of white Twitter feminism, both of which really showed when he tried to create an inclusive and empowering book series for children! Like yeah, it had its moments, and definitely some good characters, but overall, a lack of meaningful research in certain areas really made it fall flat!” Once again, I stare through the bindings of URLs and internet coding, now joined by Jane as we lock eyes with you, the reader. This time, we hold eye contact for nearly a minute, giving you time to read and process the long tangent spat out by this fanfic’s author, who, if we’re being honest, has gone just a tad off the rails right now. Finally, Jane and I look away from you, and resume our roles as fictional characters, still shaking off that strange cloud that comes with staring into the soul of those who give you life.

“Ugh, what’s going on with me today?” Jane groans at the same time I mutter, “What’s Twitter?” We turn to each other, blinking in the sunlight, then grin. This is normal. We’re fine. Jane looks up at the sky again. “I wonder if the gods are watching us. Maybe we should make them think we suck so they’ll leave you alone.”

I laugh as she sticks her tongue out, grinning wickedly at a nearby cloud. “Better yet, make them think we’re too powerful to be messed with,” I say. Jane sees me watching her and opens her mouth, sucking the cloud in between her teeth. The sky seems bluer in the space where it had been, and Jane’s eyes glitter with mirth as she swallows. “Mmm, tastes like sugar.” I giggle, feeling a small shiver on the top of my head. When I peer up, I see another cloud has floated over to me. I open my own mouth, and take it in, just as Jane did hers. “Sugar, yes. But there’s a touch of blood, too,” I say. Jane nods sagely. “What were we talking about?”

“The inherent misogyny in much of Greek mythology and the world of Camp Half-Blood in general.”

Jane nods again. “Right. A very important topic. It makes it weird when I’m writing sometimes. You know, cause I want to bring in Circe and Zeus and Apollo and all these fascinating characters, but there’s just so much bad stuff tied up with them that comes up when I research.” She looks down at our feet, which are standing in the midst of a strawberry patch. We seem to have been walking, crushing sweet summer strawberries as we go, which is odd because I don’t remember getting up. “You know Rachel, I’m feeling a bit strange.”

I look at her, and see an odd blankness in her warm brown eyes. “Now that you mention it, Jane, so am I.”

“My thoughts and words are my own,” Jane says, “But there’s something up with my body. I can’t really feel it.”

“I agree, I’ve honestly gone a bit numb.” I try to glance down at my fingers, wondering idly if they’ve gotten any more green, but find that my neck won’t bend.

Jane’s eyebrows furrow. “Yet, at the same time, I feel as though I could do anything. Grow another grass blade. Grow a flower. Grow a tree. Bend the world to my will if I wanted to.”

“Or is it the world bending me to its will.” I grin at my own philosophical point, but find that the smile won’t go away. Pretty fucking inconvenient, since the next thing I was going to bring up was part of the whole serious misogyny conversation. I decide to go for it anyway. “And I’m not the only one with weird rules!” Jane nods, as if this is a perfectly normal segway, and the only extraneous thought that floats through my mind as we find ourselves walking down a hill is how unfair it is that she still has control over her neck and I don’t. “Remember when I told you about the Hunters of Artemis?”

“Oh yeah! Your friends Reyna and Thalia, right?”

“Yeah, them! They send me letters sometimes, and seem really happy, which is great.” I pause, meaning to add emphasis, when I’m hit with a great sensation of deja-vu. “Wait a second, we already talked about this, didn’t we?” I try to remember, but something in my mind is rapidly melting. I cannot find it. I cannot find anything.

“Jane?” My voice quivers, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Oh gods, please let this be a dream. For a moment, I try to convince myself that it’s the Oracle of Delphi taking over, just like she did the other day and generally does a couple times a year. But I know that I’m lying. This is not what that feels like. “Jane, where are you?” I can barely move my mouth to say the words. I can feel nothing but the frozen fear of paralysis, of lost control. When I open my eyes, this other thing in my body has brought me to the edge of the forest. “Jane? Jane?” She could be right beside me, unable to speak, and I wouldn’t know because I can’t turn my head, can’t move my eyes, can barely even hear right now.

It’s okay, something says.

“Jane?” It’s not her voice. It’s no one’s voice.

It’s okay. You’re home.

With every cut the wooden oars made through the choppy ocean water, Sabrina knew she was getting closer. She could feel it in her bones, in her brain, a little voice that whispered in her ear. It had been three hours. Her body was worn down, energy levels dipping dangerously low, when she felt something scrape the bottom of her boat.

A rock.

Frantically, she peered through the fog that had begun to surround her boat a mile ago. The island. Had she finally made it?

As if answering her call, a peel of thunder rang out, and Sabrina’s boat began to fill with rain that pounded down from the sky. The storm from her dream. She rowed even faster, then, fear sparking a renewed strength in her tired muscles.

Just as Sabrina was about to reach the shore, a massive wave crashed over her, and her boat capsized. She came back up, sputtering, holding her sopping wet bag above her head. Another wave swept against Sabrina’s face, and she found herself spitting out a mouthful of saltwater. Finally, she washed up on the shore, heaving breaths raking through her lungs.

Sabrina blinked, pushing herself up onto her elbows. It was real. She was here.

She had made it.

FROM THE POV OF ROSALIND PENDERWICK

It’s been a pleasant day so far. Breakfast with my siblings and some of the Demeter cabin (though Jane did seem a bit absent-minded). Miranda, Florien, and Rio convinced me to practice some plant magic with them for a couple hours and I built up to growing a small sunflower. Lunch (again with Jane seeming distracted, though Rachel ate with us this time, which appeared to help). Then, Skye and Jeffrey disappeared with some of the older campers (supposedly for a regular game of soccer, but the unsettling gleam in their eyes had me doubting that was all there was too it), Jane and Rachel went to take a walk in the strawberry fields, and Batty and I were left to prepare for a pegasus riding lesson. If it had been up to Batty, the latter could have easily taken up the entire afternoon, but changing into durable pants and finding a bandana can only take so long.

After a somewhat restless hour, during which I grew three peonies and Batty rhapsodized about the stable of unicorns that another demigod camp apparently has, Batty and I arrive at the stable. We’re ten minutes early, and she’s been talking a mile a minute the whole time, not stopping from before. I swear I now know as much about pegasuses as she does. According to Rachel, the teacher today is Percy, her friend, who’s very responsible “when he puts his mind to it.” I wasn’t sure how to tell her that’s actually not very comforting, but Batty looked so excited and I figured there will be plenty of other people there, so. Why not. She’s been spending so much time there anyway.

Needless to say, I very much regret my decision now.

The stables are modest, made of wood and painted green, and I’ve been there several times by now. There’s a long line of stalls visible when we first walk in, but Batty skips straight to the far end, where a massive pegasus the color of a carrot pokes its head over the door and nuzzles Batty’s hair. She looks up at me with a smile that could melt anyone’s heart, and pats the horse on the nose. “Rosy, this is Queen Lotus Flower. Percy said we have a impenetrable bond.”

I look at the two of them with a questioning gaze. How can they both have the exact same puppy-dog eyes? I swear to god. The gods. All of them. “Batty, sweetheart. That horse is like ten feet tall.”

She nods enthusiastically. “I know, she’s so much taller than any other horse I’ve seen. Percy says she has the biggest wingspan of any horse at camp.”

I nod, slowly, wondering why my sister picked the biggest pegasus to fall in love with. At that moment, Percy pushes the door open. “Hey Batty! Ready for your lesson?” Batty leaves her post by Queen Lotus Flower to wrap her arms around my waist and nod. I look Percy over. He’s a few inches taller than me, with brown skin and curly hair. A beaded camp necklace, orange tshirt, and jeans. Weird arm tattoo aside, he’s one of the most normal-looking people at camp. I’ve only met him a couple times before, but, my nerves over Batty flying around on massive horses aside, I do trust him. Rachel seems to have a good taste in friends. Also, Batty likes him, and she’s still shy around a good number of Skye and Jane’s friends back in Cameron.

For the next few minutes, I watch as Percy instructs Batty on buckling Queen Lotus Flower’s giant saddle and looping the bridle over her nose. Not wavering a bit from the “lesson” aspect of all this, he steps back to let her show what she’s already learned from hanging around the stables so often, only stooping in to guide her when she gets confused. As the minutes tick by, more people show up for the lesson: three other students, and a good sized crowd of people who just like watching the pegasuses. By then, I’m seated on the grass outside the stables, soaking in the blistering sun and watching as Percy (seated atop a wiry black pegasus who Batty pointed out as Blackjack) darts around the large dusty enclosure, making final preparations for the lesson.

Skye and Jeffrey show up then, and sit on either side of me. I want to ask them where Jane and Rachel are, but they’re talking non-stop about a game they just played in the woods with some of the other campers, only switching the subject when Percy and Blackjack return and they begin discussing whether or not it should be scientifically possible for a horse to fly.

Just as Batty and Queen Lotus Flower begin a gentle trot around the enclosure, I feel a tap on my shoulder, and hear the familiar sound of Tommy’s chuckle. “She’s got a weird knack for that,” he says. I nod, grinning.

It’s been good with us. We’ve had breakfast together a few times, even played a game of basketball one afternoon. Our conversations aren’t the same as they used to be, and there’s a sense of newness that feels cold and strange every so often. But it’s good. It feels right. At least for now, this feels like where we’re supposed to be.

As Percy starts demonstrating how to take flight, I look around again. Jane and Rachel still aren’t here. They promised to come. (“For moral support!” Jane had said. “Wouldn’t miss it,” Rachel had added with a smile). I try to push it out of my head. This lesson is a big deal. Batty’s going to be flying.

She leans forward on Queen Lotus Flower’s neck.

They begin to run, moving together like a single being.

Just as they burst into the air, Batty’s euphoric smile lighting up the sky, Katie grabs my shoulders from behind. I shush her so I can lean forward and watch Batty silhouetted against the pegasus’s wide orange wings.

“Rosalind. Rosalind, guys. ” Something about the panic in Katie’s voice makes me turn around. Her usually tied back hair is loose and her clothes rumpled, giving the impression that she was dragged out of bed for this. (Some part of my brain distantly remembers her saying she was going to take a nap). Skye and Jeffrey turn around, too.

“What, what’s happening?” I reach out my hands, trying to calm her as she collapses into a squat, breathing heavily.

“Billie… found me in the cabin… had been looking for you guys… been running all over the camp… lucky I remembered about the riding lesson…”

Jeffrey leans over and puts his hands on her shoulders. She stares down at the dirt while her breathing levels.

“Katie, what are you saying? Why were you and Billie looking for us?”

She looks up, and I see that her forehead is drawn into well-worn creases of worry. “Jane and Rachel have gone into the woods.”

Something was wrong. Sabrina crouched on the wet sand, straining to see through the heavy rain. In her dream there had definitely been someone else on the island. She remembered the hunched figure, the sound of sobs leaking through the rain.

But she’d circled the shore at least twice by now, and there was nobody to be found. “Am I late or something?” she wondered aloud. Somehow, she’d gotten that dream It felt like it had been sent to her. Why did it show a person when there was no one?

Sabrina sighed and began to traipse inland, tucking a knife in her pocket. It wasn’t a big island, and she might as well find some shelter aside from her boat, which was now overturned somewhere on the beach. Circe lived here, didn’t she? There must be some sort of roof, especially if this kind of weather was standard.

Or maybe this was just a random island and there was no Aeaea and Sabrina’s dream had just been the unhinged work of her unconscious mind.

There was a small grassy hill set aside from the sand, which Sabrina crawled up with the determination of a dying warrior. Something was pushing her back. An invisible force, a last crumb of survival instinct, plain old fatigue, she wasn’t sure. But something wanted her out of here, and it pushed back harder and harder as she climbed.

She let out a cry of frustration, clawing at the ground, at the air, at whatever this goddamn thing was, and found a renewed burst of strength that pulled her to the top of the hill. Once there, the force that pushed back ebbed a little, like it was giving up. Sabrina let herself relax, and simply took in the view for a moment.

The hill she lay on top of gave way to a deep valley, sprawling and green. In one corner, there was a cluster of trees that looked healthy and comfortable, despite being on a random Greek island in the middle of the ocean. A modest garden lay next to it, somehow appearing unaffected by the rain, and a narrow river wound around the whole scene.

There was also a house.

Sabrina wasn’t sure what she might have expected from the lair of an infamous Greek enchantress, but it wasn’t this.

She hauled herself up on the hill and started down, rushing through the rain onto a wide wooden porch. There was a large stone vat of something dark and crumbly, with a heavy looking staff of sorts leaning against it. The door to the house was short, and Sabrina heard it scrape on the floor when she pushed it open.

The scene awaiting her was surprisingly cozy when she stepped inside. There was a fire in the hearth and rows upon rows of little viles arranged on a set of shelves beside it. A broom leaned against the wall. Sabrina looked around, noting the way that the rain didn’t make any sound as it thrashed against the roof and window, and the almost drug-like stupor that threatened to take over her brain, whispering that everything was fine, she was safe, nothing bad could happen to her.

Sabrina had encountered hypnosis before, and it only ever made her more jittery.

There was an open hatch in the floor with stairs that lead into darkness. She followed them down, feeling the air grow cooler with every step. Sabrina was quiet, taking tiny steps on her toes, and wincing when one of the stairs creaked. She didn’t know what was down there, and she didn’t want to find out the hard way. But there were no arrows flying up from the space below, no sounds of footsteps or slashes of swords.

Sabrina stepped onto a dirt floor and let herself exhale, shuffling along until her toe hit something hard. Only seasoned reflexes made her reach for the knife in her pocket instead of crying out in fear. She knelt down and squinted in the darkness, trying to see what she’d hit.

A leg.

She frowned, shaking it until she heard a low growl. “Stop that.” She stopped.

“Who are you?” Sabrina leaned closer. If they hadn’t killed her yet she was probably safe.

Instead of answering, they reached out a hand. Sabrina could see a gold ring on the thumb that glinted in a little sliver of light that had crept down from the room above. “Pull me up,” the figure said. “I’ve been paralyzed by the witch.”

Helping the stranger sit turned out to be no simple feat. They were tall and muscular, wearing a cape and a heavy metal chest plate. “The witch?” she questioned, propping them up against one of the cellar’s dirt walls. Her eyes were beginning to adust to the dark, and she could just make out their sharp chin sticking out as their head lolled back.

The figure made a noise. “The witch, the sorceress, the woman. Whatever you want to call her. I figure she sent you down too?” They snorted. “Good luck. I told Zeus not to sent mortals, but does he ever listen? You’re gonna die.”

Sabrina tried to piece together what she could from all this. The witch must be Circe, unless she’d wound up on an entirely different island. And if Circe was going around paralyzing people, then something must be going on. She must be hiding something. As for the person in front of her, Sabrina wasn’t sure who they were. By the way they talked about Zeus, and casually said “mortals,” she’d guess some sort of god? As if that narrowed it down. She’d have to be careful.

“Why did she paralyze you?”

Another weird gutteral noise. “She didn’t like my offer. It’s not the first time this has happened.”

She was growing impatient. Why’d he have to be so vague? “What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why he always sends me. I don’t think he trusts me. He’d rather me stay her paralysed in the basement of a witch than come back home.”

Sabrina let out an exasperated sigh. This wasn’t working and she needed answers. A whole coast of people with mythology-shaped holes in their memories awaited her. “You’re going to need to be a little more specific. I don’t think we’re on the same page.”

The figure sounded confused. “What do you mean? Don’t you know who I am?”

She leaned forward and inspected them in the darkness. “No. No I don’t.”

They slid their eyes down to her face. “I am the god Apollo. I came here for Circe and she did this to me.”

“What? Why?”

The stairs creaked behind Sabrina and she felt a long nail drag up her back. “I just want to be left alone,” said a voice as deep and powerful as the smell of red wine. “You don’t mind, do you?” Before Sabrina could grab her knife and turn around, before she could even scream, strong arms had surrounded her shoulders and a hand was clamping a damp cloth over her nose and mouth. Shock made her breath in, sharply, and she smelled the sweetness of sleeping drugs.

A heartbeat, a brief struggle, and Sabrina Starr was gone.

#cruel summer fic #cameron writes #the penderwicks #penderwicks #camp half blood #camp half-blood #rachel elizabeth dare #jane penderwick #rosalind penderwick

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sofia-comet · 4 years

Text

Shut up

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader (any gender!!)

genre: fluff, friends to lovers i guess

length: 1.7k words

omg hello this is my first time writing something shdfhsdfg so this oneshot was inspired by one of my favorite songs, Shut Up by Greyson Chance! also bc i wanted something to help me cope with stress and idk writing something seemed like the best way possible. unbeta-ed but who cares!

I cannot hold my tongue, you give me much to say

The first time you met Ushijima Wakatoshi was when your family moved in next door. You were unable to help out with the moving boxes so you decided to walk around the neighborhood. You caught him playing volleyball with a man that appeared to be his father.

The man asked if you wanted to play with his son and you agreed. For the rest of the day, the boy taught you volleyball with as little words as possible. It was mostly you in the conversation -- asking him questions and repeating his instructions as he nodded all throughout. His father couldn’t help but smile as his quiet and shy son made a new friend.

For the rest of your childhood you were hanging out with him. You were the most talkative person ever. You never ran out of things while he would look at you and either nod or shake his head. You didn’t mind his silence as long as you know he understood every word you said.

Although there are times when you would be taken aback at how much he remembered the things you’ve said. One day he gave you your favorite flower, the next was a drawing of a butterfly in your favorite color, and whenever you got sick, he would visit you with a snack that you loved the most.

He knew so much about you, yet you only knew little about him. It was your main worry that you could count on your fingers about the things he liked. He likes volleyball, Hayashi rice, the volleyball ace in his dad’s stories, Vabo-chan, drawing, taking care of plants, and -- what else?

One time, both of you were resting under the tree after playing volleyball and a finished session of rambling about life, you asked him, “Wakatoshi-chan, what is your most favorite thing in the world?”

He faced you, staring at your eyes, and all he could say was “You.”

=====

I’m sweating bullets, nervous that you’ll push away

You developed your first crush right before first year of high school started. It was finally decided that you were allowed to move into Shiratorizawa Academy and live in the dorms, and the crush in question helped you with the packing and moving. His name was Ushijima Wakatoshi.

It happened on a whim, really. You realized that the both of you were growing up. His body and facial features were maturing, and you knew that he was growing up to be a handsome young man.

You both agreed to help each other unpack first in your dorm then his after. You couldn’t help but feel so anxious because it was your first time living away from your parents and on top of that, Shiratorizawa’s high academic standards were something you have to uphold. When the pressure gets to you too much, you tend to spout out a lot of “what ifs.”

But it was Wakatoshi to the rescue. He stood close in front of you and held both of your shoulders, which made you pause and look up to him. Huh, since when did he get so tall?

“You’ll be okay. I’m here”

And suddenly those five words washed the nerves away. You closed the distance between you two and wrapped your arms around him. This is nothing new, you say to yourself, and he followed by enveloping his strong arms around you, but why do I feel a new kind of anxiety?

You stayed in each other's arms for a few minutes. You let the rise and fall of his chest relax you right now. High school is going to be alright if it’s with him, but at the same time, high school isn’t going to be alright with him either as your platonic feelings for him bloomed into something else.

“Say, Wakatoshi-chan,” you asked out of the blue, and you felt his chest vibrate as he hummed in response. “I know I’m very talkative and I always tell you to stop when it gets too much. Well...a-am I still annoying to you?”

Until now, you still fear the day when he stops being your friend and finally decides that you were being too annoying. Because of him and your feelings for him, you became too self-conscious.

You retracted from him, but his arms still held firm around you. You tilted your head up to meet his olive green eyes with yours, staring at him with anticipation. With his left hand -- the hand that his father fought for, the hand that helped him unleash his strength, the hand that proved him to be different -- gently moved from your back to hold the back of your head. He pulled you back into his chest and held you tighter than before.

Still on his chest, you felt him shaking his head.

And when your eyes catch mine, I know I talk too much

=====

You have fallen hard for Ushijima Wakatoshi. You actually had planned to confess to him, but his serious and stoic nature made it hard to recognize his true feelings for you.

Three years have passed. You and your childhood friend are in your final year of high school.

You know that he will go pro after high school. The loss of his team against Karasuno only fueled his passion for the sport even more. He constantly wanted to improve and one day stand on the national stage again.

And you? Well, you wanted to get into one of Japan’s top universities at least. It won’t be easy, but you had the support from your friends and family. That familiar feeling has once again come back, fresh as the day as when you had to prepare for high school. The uncertainty of the future coupled with the feelings for the man you liked for years that are getting nowhere were adding to the weight on your shoulders.

It became harder to sleep as the end of your high school life approached. The time on your phone flashed 2 am and you texted him about meeting up at the nearby convenience store. You knew how sleeping on time and waking up on time mattered to him, but it came to your surprise when he replied with an “okay, see you there.”

Leaning on the wall at the side of the convenience store alone, you saw him approaching you. You could not help but notice how eye candy he was in his joggers and plain t-shirt. The darkness helped conceal the blush formed on your cheeks.

He leaned on the wall next to you and you both stood there in silence. Your heart was beating louder than your thoughts at that point, but at the same time you felt relaxed because his presence simply helped you forget the weight you’re carrying. How does this man make you nervous yet bring you comfort at the same time?

“So uh, Wakatoshi,” you started. “We’ll be graduating soon.” He huffed in reply. You looked at the moon, because the man next to you would only distract your thoughts.

“To be honest, I don’t really have concrete plans for my future as long as I get into some university. I’m fine with any degree as long as it gets me somewhere, you know? And for you, you know what you want. You’re gonna go pro and I’m so proud of you. I’ll be supporting you all the way, just as what I’ve been doing in your matches in the past years.” You didn’t notice him inching closer to you as you continued your monologue.

The moon, in all its hypnotic glory, made you believe you were talking to it; it was you and the moon at that moment. “We have been together like, all the time. I wonder why you haven’t grown tired of me yet honestly. And this is the first time we’ll be apart...after high school I mean. I’ll forever cherish these moments and whenever I miss you I’ll think about all the times we’ve had together. I can’t help it if you were such a constant presence in my life.

“I just wanna say, thank you, for everything. I can’t list them down, that would take me years! Even if we can’t see each other a lot, I really don’t want us to grow apart, that’s all I’m asking for. But I completely understand if you don’t like me...I know I’m too much at times so I don’t know how you put up with me so, I’m sorry. God, I get too self-conscious at times… I know you mean well and that I should trust you more but... What doesn’t help is that I like you so mu--” You stopped. What? You punished your own mouth for moving faster than your brain.

You broke your gaze at the moon to face the man next to you. Your eyes widened because he stood closer to you than earlier. His olive eyes pierced you and with one look they told you to stop putting your focus at the rock in the sky. “Wakatoshi? I… w-well… Wow! What did I say?” You were laughing and shaking at that point. Did I have caffeine today? Your eyes were everywhere except his. He placed his left hand on your chin to tilt your head up and look back at his face. You drank in his olive orbs and handsome face, making sure this moment etched in your mind forever.

In his eyes you were the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, even if you were a blushing mess.

“What I mean t-to say is, uhh... yes, I do like you. A lot. Not just as your closest friend, but as something more than that. I’ve fallen for you, Wakato-” For the first time in your friendship, he has cut you off from your words by pressing his own lips with yours. This was the first time he shut you up from your ramblings rather than give a single nod or a few words in reply. This was the first time he rendered you speechless.

Your arms snaked around his neck as you kissed him back. It was innocent and chaste, and it reminded you of the day he declared that you were his favorite thing. You still were.

And in that kiss, was when Ushijima Wakatoshi showed something that spoke more words than you have ever said to him in all these years together.

So give me your two lips, and baby I’ll shut up.

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mallowstep · 3 years

Note

I wanna hear about the PO3 au's the anon left out! skyclan, loner, po5. Im guessing loner is Crow/Leaf raising the 3 outside of the clans. I love hearing you talk about your au's!

aww thanks! okay, same plan as before, details below the cut.

skyclan po3: it's, uh, pretty on the nose. crow and leaf run to skyclan with their kits.

loner po3: this is a catch-all term for three aus with similar premises, but i don't have a clear/short title to differentiate them. one is leafcrow, one is mothpool, and one is just leafpool. i'll talk about each of them.

po5: this is my internal name for the jaywing au. this, if you don't remember (and why would you), is a bit of a parallel to the dovefeather/med cat dovewing au where jaykit and dovekit are siblings.

skyclan po3: "they move on tracks of never-ending light" (title song)

the au title for this in my notes was "whitewater," but i think i'm going to save something else for that. (if you're confused why i have two titles for all of the aus: when i make a big au, it usually gets a temporary title that's short and easy to search, but i replace it with a permanent title later. sometimes they stay the same, like ashes, but usually i change it.)

so my only notes on this is

crowfeather and leafpool make it all the way to skyclan with a trio of newborn kits.

and like yeah, that's basically all i've figured out.

uhhh i know skyclan will come to the lake sooner, obviously, and i know that jay's character arc plays out really differently because there's less ableism.

(even in the windclan au, jay is intertwined with ableism: in that case, it's "either you're the same, or you're not capable." but leafstar is a sensible leader who doesn't have that problem.)

otherwise, yeah, i don't really know where i'm going with this, other than i think it'll be fun to explore, since leafpool is firestar's daughter and named after leafstar.

loner po3: the common thread in all of these is what happens to thunderclan's medicine cat after leafpool leaves?

(tbf, that's a common question in quite a few aus. but it makes itself a central conflict in these three.)

loner po3 I: leafcrow. "on and on we run in loops"

uh, yeah. they run away, and stay away. this one isn't supposed to focus on the kits that much, but rather, leafpool's struggle with duty and desire.

i've got this:

“There’s a loner,” the kittypet said, her voice languid, claws extended, but with an air of ease, “named Leaf. She’s been helping out loners for, oh, a season or two.”

as a quote from it. it's my least favorite of the loner po3 aus.

loner po3 II: single mom leafpool. "between us, i'd trade you for them every time"

i've talked about this one actually quite a bit, but it's probably going to take me a while to write it. it's inspired by "butterflies and hurricanes," but instead of leafpool dying, crowfeather dies.

also, the chapter titles come from "marjorie" which is basically 90% of why it's going to take me a while to work on it, that song makes me cry a lot and uh, things are a lil Much right now.

i've got a few scenes sketched out, from holly running away, and leafpool panicking, to leafpool worrying about bringing her kits to thunderclan.

loner po3 III: mothpool. "to make a choice in all this mess"

this is the au competing with divided po3 for next po3 au to write, and i'm...i love it. (as a note, i won't write two aus for the same time period at the same time. that's why i was waiting to finish wfmisus before i got back on doahins. now it's all messy. but i get confused lmao.)

anyway, i have the least written for this, but i'm very excited. in my first warriors fic ever, "if you love me any, let me know it now", leafpool thinks this:

(Leafpool should have left. She should have found Mothwing and told her and left. Maybe pause to say goodbye to Squirrelflight. Mothwing would have gone with her, and things would be alright. Not like they are now, all tangled and impossible.)

and well. i'm weak.

i don't have a ton of concrete stuff to say about it, especially considering it's so high on the list, but i mean, i'm excited.

po5: "wing and feather"

alright, this is an old one. since it's also high on my list, i want to explain where it came from rather than what it's about, because that will cover what it's about in a broad sense, without tempting me to give away the details.

(also, w&f is a working title. much like "feather take flight," i may change my mind.)

anyway. i started getting into warriors with "cloudtail's daughter," an au where dovewing and ivypool are brightheart's kits.

in a post so old i had to go to my main blog to find it, i said this:

i also want him to be dovewing’s brother. but the au where brightheart gives birth to dovekit, anxiety child, and jaykit, blind, and feels like a failure despite the fact that its not like her half-blindness is genetic, is not this au. that is another au.

and the seeds were planted.

so right, i'm writing up ctd around when i'm first reading "flightless dove, poison ivy," which will go on to inspire dovefeather (med cat dovewing au, but as you'll see, dovefeather is the assigned working au name. after i decided i didn't like feather take flight, i reverted back to its initial working title, dovefeather.)

so i've got these two things rolling around in my brain.

dovefeather comes first, because i reread fdpi so many times and i just. i want dovepaw to stay in riverclan. i don't want her to leave. i want her to be happy. (also please! i'm still finishing ch 2 of fdpi no spoilers it's taking me embarassingly long to finish.)

but anyway, consider this a bonus au talk because explaining what po5 is, imo, requires me explaining what dovefeather is. like, in an au talk scenario. they're unrelated aus, from a reader perspective.

so i come up with this list of "things i want to be different in oots":

dovewing should be cloudtail's daughter

dovewing and jayfeather should be siblings

dovewing should be a medicine cat

dovewing should go to riverclan

ivypool should be the fourth cat (but i'm not revealing which aus this applies to bc big time spoilers)

and this creates a bit of an au matrix. pick and choose, you know? ctd is (1).

dovefeather is (3) and (4).

but i still wanted (2), and so it seemed pretty natural to make a (1), (2), and (3) au.

but that's a retrospective analysis, what really happens is, i get like fourteen "what ifs" deep, until i'm writing fic for my fic for someone else's fic. kind of.

dovefeather diverges pretty sharply from fdpi, especially based on what i've read of ch2. it takes the same core idea, and because my idea of riverclan was inspired by fdpi, there are plenty of similarities, but i think it's functionally very different, and superficially similar.

(also, hollowflight ends up in a completely different trio lmao dovepaw hangs out with rushpaw, troutpaw, and mossypaw.)

but anyway, i'm trying not to write another au of the same time period, but i just finished writing out the full outline for ashes, and the next chapter (i.e., ch 12, which i'm hopefully posting today if all goes well) gets me thinking, and i can't let it go: i want (2) to happen.

so i look at my outline for dovefeather, because the rule is, it has to be very different from this.

since dovefeather is like 70% drafted (altho that number seems low, because i suspect i'm going to end up adding a lot into the fourth chapter), i now know that was never going to be an issue, but at the time, i was very worried.

so i was like! well, that means i'm going to fuck with every part of po3, and we're going to get ivypaw and hollypaw roped in, and jaypaw is always going to be a warrior, and i think i made squilf his mentor? or maybe sandstorm lmao.

either way, it ended up being defined by jaypaw, which i didn't initially plan on. but that's po5: squilf's litter lionkit, hollykit, ivykit & brightheart's litter dovekit and jaykit grow up together.

it's got a similar vibe to ashes IMO.

okay wow that ended up being a lot i've been hyperfocusing on dovefeather all weekend, and in my head, it's inextricably linked to ashes, ctd, and jaywing/po5, so uh. yeah.

hope this was what you were looking for?

#ask #anon #talk #au talk #mine #txt #dovefeather #jaywing #po5 #au drop

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mha-adore · 4 years

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hey! ty sm for doing the matchup exchange with me, i look forward to writing your match! i’m rita and i go by she/her pronouns. i have a preference for men & i’m 16. my quirk would be similar to shinso & inumaki from jjk,, i can control ppl and animals just by saying a command,,, an indicator for when i’m using my quirk would be my eyes changing color & a side effect to using my quirk would be getting light headed.

i’m a libra sun, aquarius moon, & leo rising. a slytherin & intj-t. i’m v polite and reserved when you first meet me. i’m pretty introverted and i have anxiety. it takes me while to open up since it takes me a while to trust ppl. i do tend to get annoyed and angry by others easily,, i’m a bit of a hot head. i’m pretty chill and like joking around once i open up,, i can also be kinda dumb. i’m a bit of a loner and i don’t have many friends. i’m actually a bit of an emotional person but only when it comes to shows, movies, books, etc,, i tend to keep my emotions bottled up. i’m self conscious and self critical. i care a lot about having perfect grades and getting into a good university but i’m so lazy (lots of breaks & procrastination) at the same time,, i end up getting everything done on time though. i’m impatient when it comes to my own things so i like doing things my way bc i feel more comfortable that way. i also like keeping things neat. i’ve also been told i have a resting sad face & that i’m intimidating. i wear a lot of black and i’d describe my style as dark academia mixed with 70s-90s fashion. when i’m at home i just wear comfortable clothing like pajama pants and a t-shirt.

my likes/hobbies/interests are baking, playing the sims, writing, and playing board games with ppl i’m close to. i also like relaxing in bed and spending time with people i’m close to and having fun. i’m interested in psychology, true crime, & history. i don’t like arrogant & closed minded people. i look for a partner who is loyal, kind, & open-minded. my love languages are gifts and quality time (both ways).

i hope this isn’t too much,, ty again! <3

Hey friend, it's my pleasure! Thanks sm for offering 💖

Can I just say super quick that your quirk is really cool? You could command an army of bears, raccoons or fire ants. I would be terrified. Also I'm an Aquarius moon and INTJ too, air moons gotta stay together. I totally got a Libra vibe off you when you first messaged me and you're super sweet 🎀 also I totally get you on the anxiety part, I have anxiety too. I know how terrifying it can be to reach out to new people so please know I'm proud of you for taking the chance to reach out to me 😊 and it's never too much; the more detail the better!

I match you with Shoto!

Say hi to the walking AC and heater unit. A couple reasons I picked him is because you mentioned having anxiety and being hot headed. With his father being, well, himself and his mother being the anxious person she is, Shoto understands both sides of the coin very well and knows how to deal with both parts. He can balance being calm and stern at the same time and he has the patience of a saint. He would give you the time and space you need to grow comfortable around new people and surroundings, as well he would be able to keep you grounded when your temper gets the best of you. He mellows you out. My personal headcanon is that he's a Capricorn sun, Scorpio moon, Virgo rising, Ravenclaw and INFP.

He returns your jokes with dry humor. He can keep a dead serious face while making the stupidest jokes too. He could look you dead in the eye, face straight, and rip a monster fart and not giggle just to see your reaction. Honestly the image of him holding eye contact while aggressively farting is funny in my head. I know I have the humor of a 9 year old.

He isn't bothered by you not having many friends. He's a private person and doesn't want a lot of people up in his business. He prefers few close friends over many distant friends. He knows you aren't stupid and pays no attention to anything you say that may sound dumb. He's heard so much dumb shit he learned to filter it from his brain.

He understands that you're closed off on your emotions. He really can't blame you, he's quite the same. If you get a little teary eyed over a book or movie he'll let you talk it out and cry if you'd like, but he won't push you to be uncomfortably open to him. He values your happiness over his own and doesn't mind you keeping your feelings to yourself. He respects your privacy. Regardless of what you may feel conscious or critical of about yourself he's there to remind you that you're perfect. You're healthy, you're strong and you're doing the best you can. No one could ask any more from you. He's lived a majority of his life feeling outcasted and ignored because of his scar and wouldn't wish the same on anyone, so if there's any part of you that you feel bad about he's always reminding you that you have no imperfections, everything about you makes you one of a kind. You're irreplicable.

He isn't worried about you procrastinating on studying or homework. As long as you get it done and do well enough he isn't concerned. If you ever have difficulty with a subject he's happy to help you study and learn. If you want he can ask Momo to join for a study party if you want the extra help or company. He just wants to see you succeed and get into the college of your cotton candy dreams. Oh and don't worry about your tuition, he has it covered. Don't even mention it to him it'll already be paid off, including books and living arrangements. He only wants you to pay him back by doing your best in school and showing him you can handle the hard work.

He always has a suggestion on ways you can do things but he knows you prefer to do them by yourself, so he'll neber bombard you with his ideas. If you ask for his input he has plenty to give but otherwise he gives you the room to make your own moves. He's a neat freak himself and is always happy to help you keep your room clean and well put together. He has good room decor ideas too if you want to spruce up your room.

He really doesn't see you as intimidating. He sees a confident, independent and strong young woman who can hold her own. He occasionally wonders if you're really sad or if that's just your expression and he'll occasionally ask. He's only making sure you're okay. If you're sad he's on it with a cute or funny movie, some snacks, a shoulder to cry on and a whole night's worth of stuff to talk about.

He likes your sense of fashion, he enjoys darker and warmer colors. He lives for the 80s aesthetic and loves to see you mix the two so effortlessly. He can, wants to and will give you his t shirts to wear at home. He'll also loan you hoodies and sweaters. He won't outright buy you a hoodie, he'll buy one for himself and let you get away with stealing it from him.

He's so soft for home made cookies and would love for you to make him some. Home made dinners are also great. He would love to help you bake and would enjoy baking dates. He'll also watch shows like Hell's Kitchen with you. He isn't exactly a huge gamer but he likes simulation games and RPGs like Sims, Animal Crossing, Pokemon, Harvest Moon etc. He'll binge these games with you all day and night. Your Sims have to get married to each other it's the law. He enjoys reading what you write - what you don't mind sharing of course. He won't go peeking in your personal writing, he knows it isn't his place. Concerning what you do share he'll read it with great interest and share his thoughts and any ideas he has. He would really enjoy writing something with you, like a short story or a comic. He loves how you convey your writing and would be honored to take part in it. His favorite board game is Candy Land, a close second being Monopoly, followed by Scrabble. He pulls out a big ass dictionary during Scrabble just to prove to people that he knows his vocabulary. He loves you dearly but all bets are off during Monopoly, it's a dog eat dog world and he isn't bailing you out of jail. He will, however, offer you real money in turn for properties in the game. No that isn't cheating the rules say nothing about it. He has no problem with a lazy day in bed though and wouldn't mind just dozing or watching shows together. Any time spent with you is time spent well. You two could watch paint dry together and he would have a blast. He'll buy the paint.

With his personal involvment in hero work he has lots of info on true crime cases and can share stories and books with you. He has everything from small robberies to Ted Bundy and beyond. If you have a question about a true crime case he has an answer. As for psychology I imagine he would study it himself, perhaps as a secondary career or freelance hobby. He'll examine characters from books and movies with you and run his own behavioral analysis unit from his bedroom. The FBI doesn't hold a candle to him. He can, will and already has tracked down your enemies and he has their addresses. With his father being the new number one hero he essentially has the force of the law in his hands and if need be, he will use it. He won't do anything unjust unless your safety is in jeopardy but he won't hesitate to bring someone down. As for history he has plenty of books ranging from founding of countries to wars, to major technological advancements to the invention of toilet paper. He knows some very niche history facts. If you need to impress a teacher with knowledge on history he has you covered. He'll make the teacher quit their job in shame.

Shoto is absolutely loyal to the end, open minded and kind to a fault. He understands how it's like to be ignored, misunderstood and bullied and he won't treat anyone else that way. Regardless of his opinion on someone he still gives them respect and kindness. He doesn't care how rude or petty someone acts, they're still a human and deserve to be treated as such.

He goes out of his way to buy you special gifts, he values personal meaning over monetary value. Between a basic cheap necklace and an expensive bracelet of your favorite gemstone and color, you bet he's going for the bracelet. The cost isn't important to him, he just wants to see your face light up when you open the gift. As for gifts from you he doesn't care about how much you spent, he just wants something from the heart. You could give him an origami swan that cost you nothing to make and he would treasure it like a rare antique. As for quality time, he always enjoys a good movie, board game, cuddle session or just a nap. Like I mentioned before, any time spent together is time spent well.

I hope you enjoyed this friend!! 🥀 I'll be sending my part your way soon, thanks again for the offer! I had a lot of fun with this one 😘

#iidastiddies #mha x reader #bnha x reader #matchup #mha matchup #bnha matchup #matchup exchange #shoto #todoroki #shoto todoroki #todoroki shoto #todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader

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ddaenggtan · 5 years

Text

hearts on fire | jhs

Hoseok has been in love with you for as long as he can remember, and he’s beyond excited to see you married and glowing.

He just really wishes that he was the groom.

pairing | jhs x reader, knj x reader

word count | 6.5k | cross posted to ao3

genre | angst, light fluff

warnings | angst, mentions of blood, mentions of vomit, lots of choking, lots of angst, this is open ended so like.......potential (?) mcd??, like this is very very very open ended yall there is no happy ending and there is zero satisfaction at the end, like it’s truly just here to hurt you

a/n | part of Outro: Tear, The Angst Now Told, and you should really read all of those fics bc they hurt so good but they’re sO WORTH IT, and i’m shouting out to @personawife�� not only for betaing this, but also for putting the Outro Tear Angst Collab together, because it’s been so fun!!!!! and yet so painful!!!! in so many good ways!!!!!!! this was honestly really fun to write, mostly because it’s rare that i write angst - unhappy ending angst, at that - so it was nice to stretch my creative muscles.

also go stream ego bc its wonderful and i love it

It starts, as most things do, with a kiss.

It was innocent enough - just a soft peck on his cheek and a sunflower in his hand while he cried about another student kicking him in the shin. To this day he can’t be sure what it was that did it for him. Maybe it was the way the sunlight lit up the barrettes in your hair and made them glint like stars. Maybe it was the way you hadn’t hesitated to smooch him on the cheek and give him the flower you’d picked out of a vase just to cheer him up. Maybe it was the fact that it had worked when nothing else had. Maybe it was none of that, instead something bigger altogether and more complicated than he could ever understand.

Or maybe it was all of it. A simple act that led to a simple reaction - him taking your hand and making you smile with some face he made - that led to this moment.

Either way, Hoseok decides as he watches you walk down the aisle in the off-white dress with the golden sash that perfectly matches the sunflowers in your hands, he doesn’t care. Because it all led to this moment.

[then]

“C’mon, we’re gonna be late!” You call over your shoulder. Hoseok laughs, wrapping his hand around your wrist to slow you down from your sprint.

“We are not going to be late,” He tells you firmly. Your lips form a pout that he wishes he could kiss away, but he resists the urge. Instead, he grins and pulls you into a warm hug. “It’s not like they’re going to start our graduation without us, Starshine. It would be a little conspicuous, don’t you think?”

“Ooh, conspicuous, big word! All that studying paid off, I see.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes; he doesn’t mention that he’s been studying his ass off ever since you started crushing on one of the bookworms in the school. He refuses to acknowledge to himself that he did it in the futile hope that it would make you notice him.

“Hey, it was worth it! Got me into that fancy university, didn’t it?” He wags his brows and lets go of you, and he does his best not to let his arms linger around your waist for longer than they need to be there.

“Yeah, that fancy university that’s a million miles away from here,” You complain. His smile falters a little, and he covers it with a dramatic gasp.

“What’s this? Is my little starshine going to miss me?” He doesn’t tell you about the packet laying on his desk at home, about the scholarships he’s scoured the internet to find, about the decision he has yet to make, despite the looming deadline. He doesn’t mention the sunflower pressed between the pages of a book that sits beside his bed, so he can stare at it each night as he wonders whether it’s stupid to take the harder road just for love.

“You know I will, Hobi,” You tell him. You curl into his side, lacing your fingers with his. “You’re my best friend in the whole world. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you. Who’s going to make me study when I don’t want to? Or convince me that getting pancakes at two in the morning is a proper breakfast?”

Hoseok shakes his head. He knows exactly what will happen when you head off to school in a few months. You’ll meet so many new people, make boatloads of friends, create new memories and new jokes and new references, and he’ll be standing off to the side, waiting to hear about all of it.

He can’t wait to watch you flourish.

“Who’s going to help you stop stressing out about your choreography, or your routines?” You ask. Your voice dips into a whisper, and it’s the most scared he’s ever heard you. “Who’s going to be there when I need someone?”

He knows what you mean; he knows all about the anxiety that wracks your body every so often, the way your brain spirals and panics and can’t seem to bring itself down out of red alert. He remembers - in vivid detail - all the nights he’s climbed through your window to help you breathe in that rhythm your school counselor taught you, or just talked at you through the phone about some new song or dancer he found until he eventually heard your soft laugh.

He remembers the nights you called and called and called and eventually just sought him out, not even bothering to knock as you barged into his room because his parents adore you and don’t care to let you in whenever. You’re like a second daughter to them, something his sister gives him no end of grief about. He’ll always remember the way your hands felt against his skin as you tugged him out of his room and into the kitchen to make some kind of monstrosity, just throwing anything and everything into a blender or skillet, only to wind up going out to the corner store to get noodles anyway.

“I’ll be here,” He tells you. His voice is as soft and firm as his fingers as he brings your chin up to face him. He wants you to look at him, wants you to maybe see after all these years just how easy it would be for him to move the earth if you asked him to. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Your eyes search for something in his, and he wonders if you’ll finally realize. If he’s finally told you about every single pang of love that he’s ever felt without even needing words.

You smile, your eyes crinkling at the corners, and playfully shove at his shoulder. “Not when you’re off at your fancy university a million miles away from mine.”

He covers the heartbreak with a deep sigh and slings his arm around your shoulders as you head into the building where your graduation is being held. He wonders what you’ll think of the sunflowers sitting on your chair, waiting for you to find them.

Something tickles his throat, a hint of a cough not ready to be cleared, and he swallows it back.

“About that…”

[then]

Asthma is what he tells you, months and months later while you both sit in your dorm room, curled under blankets.

You’re preparing for your philosophy paper, pages and sheets and everything else strewn about your bed while he sits at your desk. The lamp is focused and bright as it shines on the metal and stone in his hands, glinting as he twists the wire this way and that.

“Aren’t you supposed to be studying for your dance eval?” You ask him. He shoots you that half-smile, a quick glance so that he can finish wrapping the quartz in his palm. He hasn’t told you that he switched majors, that he’s now ‘undecided’ simply because he can’t keep up with the others anymore.

“Aren’t you supposed to telling me who made it their mission to disprove Kant’s entire career?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to,” You pout. He smiles, satisfied, at the stone in his hand; it’s wrapped in wire shaped to look like a tree. He never thought he’d be the jewelry-making kind, but thanks to a randomly-selected elective, he’s discovered he’s got a knack for it.

Besides, he enjoys seeing the collection on your windowsill grow with each new thing he can make you.

He extends the quartz to you - a polished golden one that complements the tarnished brass he’d used to wrap it, the same colors as the flowers you love so much - and the way you light up as you take it makes his heart clench painfully.

Something tickles his throat, too familiar now, and he does what he can to swallow it down, but this one is stubborn. It forces its way up his windpipe, giving him no choice but to try to cough it up.

You watch, worried, as he rushes to the sink in your room, bending as far over it as possible so that you won’t see as much.

It’s small, when it falls. Small and unassuming and spit-slick, he can almost believe it just fell out of the vase of them nearby, and he hopes that’s what you’ll believe as well.

“Hobi?”

He hates how small your voice is, how worried you sound as you listen to the ragged pants of his breathing. So he wipes his mouth, checks in the mirror to make sure there’s no blood, and turns back to you with a wry smile.

“I’m fine,” He says softly. His voice is still hoarse, and you don’t look convinced, but he continues before you can argue. “Just asthma.”

“Asthma? You don’t have asthma, Hoseok-”

“I do,” He says quickly. “Developed recently. Strained myself too hard, weakened my lungs, or something. I don’t remember what the doctor said exactly.”

“But...your dance, how can you-” You cut yourself off with a sharp breath, and he can’t bear to see the heartbreak in your eyes as the realization hits, so he stares down at the scuff in his sneakers instead. “That’s why you aren’t practicing right now. You had to drop out of the dance program?”

You sound like you’re on the verge of tears, so he plasters a smile on his face that’s more convincing than anything else he’s ever done.

“It’s fine, Starshine. Not all dreams come true. Besides, there’s other things I can do.”

“But your scholarship, Hobi, I-”

“Already figured out,” He says quickly. It isn’t, not nearly, because he can’t just call his parents to say ‘hey I lost my scholarship because I’m hopelessly in love but don’t have the guts to say anything about it’ and he hasn’t had time to go visit them, either. The corners of your mouth are turned down, and your lips are pressed together, and it’s obvious you’re upset, and it hurts more than the roots tangling in his lungs.

He crosses the room and slides some of your papers to the side so that he can sit across from you. You’re still holding the quartz in your palm, fingers wrapped gently around it like you’re afraid it’ll break if you squeeze too tight, so he wraps his own hands around that one of yours.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” You ask him. Your voice is small and hurt, and he hates that he made it that way, but he knows it’s better than what would come if he told you the truth.

“Because I didn’t want you to worry,” He replies quietly. “You’ve got exams and studying and papers to worry about. I don’t need to add to that. Besides, you’d just try to help somehow, and you do that enough as it is.”

“How could I possibly be helping you with this, Hoseok?” The look you give him is familiar and humorless and fond and it makes his throat tickle so he looks away. Stares down at the feather-soft blanket in your lap instead.

“Just by being here,” He tells you. “Distracting me from it. It’s not important, that’s all. I can do other things.”

“Like what? Dancing has always been your dream, and now-”

“Like,” Hoseok interrupts, sliding the quartz from your hand and placing it with the other things he’s made you on the windowsill, “Making things, like this. For you. For everyone.”

You’re quiet for a minute. Your eyes linger on the collection of stones he’s decorated for you, that he’s worked on so carefully to make them as beautiful as you deserve, and he wonders if you can tell.

If you can see it in every careful twist of wire, in the way his hands are always so gentle against your own, in the way he can’t bear to look at you for longer than a few moments but can’t bear to be away from you in the same way.

“Well,” You eventually say, blinking back what might be tears. “I suppose we’ll just have to find you a new dream, then, won’t we?”

Your smile is weak and watery and doesn’t reach your eyes, but it’s still a smile. So he returns it, and locks his pinky with yours, and vows to himself to make sure you never cry for him again.

[then]

"What is that?"

Hoseok looks up from the book he's got propped against the table. He hasn't been paying much attention to the conversation, too engrossed in the metalworking book his glassblowing professor gave him while you studied for an upcoming test, so your words surprise him.

"What's what?" He asks, looking around the cafeteria as if he can magically spot whatever it is you're talking about.

" That ," you repeat, stabbing towards him with your pencil. It's reflex that brings his hand up to his chest, and it's realization that has him clutching the pendant tightly, praying you hadn't really seen it.

"Nothing," he says quickly, tucking it back under his shirt where it's supposed to be. "Just a practice thing."

"Why won't you show me?" You pout. "You always show me your practice work."

"Yeah, because you always take it," He quips back with a laugh. You don't even try to argue, because you both know it's true. The collection on your windowsill has grown immeasurably over the last two years, and it makes Hoseok's heart stutter every time he lets himself consider why you keep all of them. Especially when some are so terrible.

"Seriously, Hobi, can I see?"

He starts to say no, because if there's one piece he's ever made that could tell you about his feelings, it's this. He should say no, should insist this once that you can't see it, but before he can, his hands are pulling the chain over his head and setting the entire thing gently in your palm.

He watches your mouth fall open and your eyes grow wide and he wonders.

He wonders what you see among the curl of metal; if the fact that he would do anything for you is obvious in the way it twists and turns on itself, looping around and around. He wonders if you can see, hidden between letters, how just being near you gets him through every day and makes it all worth it. He wonders if you'll be able to tell, between the pressed yellow petals, just how his chest aches; if you've put the pieces together, after so long, now that you're holding his heart so openly in your palm.

"'Remedy,'" You read, and Hoseok's heart jumps into his throat, even when he knows you don't know about it. "And some tulip petals? It's so gorgeous, Hobi, but what does it mean?"

"They're sunflowers," He corrects, almost scandalized that you could confuse the two. The petals are shortened, of course, cut so that they'll fit into the pendant without obstructing the text in the back, but still. "And it doesn't mean anything. Just something I wrote once in high school."

Your eyes light up. "You mean that poem you never let me read?"

"It was a song, actually," He mutters, but your attention is back on the necklace, looking for any hints about the secrets he keeps. Something soft tickles the back of his throat when you glance up at him and smile, the light glinting just right along the stones and casting golden beams along your features.

You look more beautiful than he's ever seen, and his chest aches with more than just the flowers taking root there.

"This is really gorgeous, Hobi," You tell him as you watch the way the light reflects through the amber beads along the edge.

"Yeah," He whispers as he watches you, drinking in the way your eyes widen in awe and the soft smile on your lips. "It is, isn't it?"

He wishes that moment could last forever, that he could tuck it away into a pocket and pull it out whenever he needs it, but he can feel the flower starting to work its way up his throat and he doesn't know how to hide that from you.

The coughs start right as someone calls out your name and his, and he tucks his chin into his elbow in an effort to hide it. He doesn't bother to look yet, just waves a hand as someone sits beside you, and by the time he's got the handful of petals tucked safely away in his pocket, you're deep in conversation with Namjoon about one of the classes the two of you are taking.

[now]

Hoseok decides, looking at you now, that you are happier than ever.

You've said your vows and you've cried several happy tears and you've kissed more times than he can count, but you're still radiant. It's the glow of contentment, the promise of more to come, all coalescing to shine like stars in your eyes.

"May I, Starshine?" He asks, extending a hand and pulling you away from your current dance partner. Yoongi doesn't look too upset about it, just smiles knowingly at you both as your hand folds into Hoseok's.

You move with him as if it's second nature, and Hoseok supposes that it is , at this point. As many times as he held you this way while teaching you the steps, as often as he led you through them before today, you should be able to move out of sheer muscle memory.

"Have I told you yet that you're sparkling, Starshine?" He asks, smiling along with you when you laugh.

"I think that you're confusing me and the ring again, Hobi."

On cue, he looks down at it. He spent so long on it, years of dreaming of what it may look like and months of trial and error and practice runs before he got it right. It was worth it, though; the ring does sparkle, takes the glow of your skin and the joy in your smile and amplifies it.

Crafted to look like a sunflower itself, the ring is easily the most expensive thing he's ever made. Each petal sparkles with the same yellow quartz of that stone he gave you so long ago, and set into the middle is one large chocolate diamond that he spent entirely too much money on because it was already cut exactly the way he needed it. He'll never forget the way you cried when you saw it the first time.

Hoseok's eyes meet yours, and he frowns at the tears he sees there.

"Hey, none of that, Starshine. It's a happy day, remember?" He stops moving in the middle of the dance floor, hands moving to wipe your tears before they can fall.

"I just...I'm so happy Hobi." He grins at your words, resisting the urge to poke fun, because of course you're happy. You just got married.

You look up at him again, eyes still watery and he pulls you into a tight hug.

"I love you so much, Hobi," you mutter against his chest. His heart flutters in his chest as he resists the urge to press his lips to yours right where you stand.

"Yeah," He whispers. "Yeah, I love you too, Starshine."

Someone taps him on the shoulder and he releases you, relinquishing his grasp on you so you can dance with Namjoon. The pendant around your neck sits beautifully, shadowed on either side by the white of the cloth, and he thinks for just a moment, that maybe he made that pendant for you, after all.

He's worn it for years, of course, but the smile on your face when he slid it around your neck was worth it. It was worth being asked if you could have it, not entirely joking, and it was worth every single time you would fiddle with it during movie marathons, and it was worth every single night he held it in his clutched palm as he sat over the sink and coughed up the yellow blooms that you've strung up all over the reception hall.

very day that you bugged him about it, how you asked every day without fail if you could have it. He knew you were kidding - mostly - but the light in your eyes when he finally gave it to you before the wedding today is something he’ll remember for the rest of his life, no matter what the future holds for him.

It ends, as most things do, with a conversation.

It was innocent enough - just a phone ringing in its place on the worktable and his hands covered in clay while he struggled to hit the screen with his elbow. To this day he can’t be sure what it was that he missed, exactly. Maybe it was the way that you’d been calling him less and less in the middle of the night. Maybe it was the way you hadn’t noticed that he’d been spending too much time in the studio, pouring his soul into every shape he crafts and wire he twists while he chokes down petals. Maybe it was the classes the two of you shared and the projects you worked on together, that he assumed was friendly and not anything more. Maybe it was all of that, everything working in tandem in a way that he could never understand.

Or maybe it was none of it. Simple acts that led to simple reactions - being too busy for each other, not talking as often, coughing up sunflower petals - that all led to that moment.

Either way, Hoseok decides as he watches the heart-shaped vase spin aimlessly on its wheel while you cry tears of joy through the phone because he finally - finally - asked you out, he can’t care.

[then]

Asthma? is what Jimin asks him, years later when they’re both locked in Hoseok’s newly renovated store, basically a hole in the wall that he saved and saved for with his online sales. Hoseok is curled over the workbench in the back, doing everything he can to catch the petals before Jimin can see them.

When they eventually subside, long enough for him to gulp down some water and shove the red-tinted petals off to the side in a pile that’s been steadily growing for weeks now, Hoseok shoots Jimin a self-deprecating smile.

He doesn’t even get a chance to lie to him.

“How long?” Jimin asks him. There’s no softness to his tone; it’s all hard edges and naked truths, and for once, the exhaustion overtakes Hoseok. He’s so sick of lying. He’s so sick of carrying an inhaler he doesn’t need, of shoving sunflower petals into every nook and cranny he can find so that no one sees them, and he just wants someone to know.

“Forever,” Hoseok answers simply. “As long as I can remember.”

“And you never said anything? Ever?”

Hoseok sighs, throat scratchy and raw, and he stares down at the ring he’s been fiddling with. “Would you?” He eventually says.

When he looks at Jimin, the other man has a petal of his own in between two fingers and rubs it absently, distractedly, like it’s habit. When he looks up, Hoseok understands, and an understanding passes between them.

Jimin goes back to the laptop perched in front of him while Hoseok continues to work on other orders, things less important than the ring burning a hole in his mind’s eye, begging to be made.

He isn’t ready, he tells himself. He isn’t skilled enough yet. Maybe one day.

“I’m getting the surgery,” Jimin says after a few hours of silence. Hoseok fumbles with the pliers in his hands, twists the wire the wrong way, and it all clatters to the tabletop. He doesn’t bother to catch it, either; he’s too busy staring at his best friend in shock.

“Seriously?” He breathes. Jimin nods, and the air rushes out of Hoseok in the span of a heartbeat.

Everyone knows about the surgery, just like everyone knows about hanahaki disease. It took years to develop and it’s the only known treatment, but there are always side effect. Always. Sometimes they’re minor, just losing your feelings of love for the person you have feelings for, or like the guy that just became allergic to the peonies that he had removed.

But then there are the others.

The people who lose the capacity to love altogether. The ones who never find anyone else, who never learn how to love another person, not like they loved the one that caused the flowers. Or the ones who just lose their emotions completely, and become essentially lifeless. Unable to feel love at all, or sadness, or grief, or joy, or excitement, or remorse, or anything. They just exist.

“But...the side effects-”

“Aren’t guaranteed,” Jimin interrupts. “Plenty of people get the procedure every day and walk away fine.”

“Yeah and some of them turn into lifeless machines!” Hoseok counters. Jimin’s expression hasn’t changed. He looks steadfast, decided, and he’s barely looking away from whatever work he’s doing on the laptop, and it infuriates Hoseok. “You’re gonna sign away any hope that you have, any chance that you have, because it...because it hurts?”

“No,” Jimin says as he closes the laptop and slides it to the side. “Because I’m tired, Hobi. I’m so tired, all the time. I’m tired of keeping it a secret, and I’m tired of puking my guts every time I think about-” Jimin cuts himself off and closes his eyes, tight, as he swallows.

When he opens them, Hoseok can see every emotion he’s ever had in Jimin’s eyes, and it makes his heart ache.

“Aren’t you tired, Hobi?”

Jimin’s voice is small, and weak, but it lingers in the air between them. It curls past Hoseok’s throat and then down to wrap around his chest, growing tighter and tighter with every breath. Neither of them break eye contact, and Hoseok wonders what Jimin sees in his face.

“Yeah,” Hoseok eventually says. With that, the spell is broken, and he can breathe again, and he drags his eyes away from Jimin to look at the piece he’d been working on instead. “But I can’t just...stop, y’know? I’ve loved her for basically my entire life. I can't...I don’t even know who I am without that.”

Jimin’s quiet for a long moment, and Hoseok thinks maybe he’s not going to say anything. Maybe he got through to Jimin, maybe he won’t get that surgery.

“Don’t you think that you should find out?”

[now]

Hoseok watches from across the room as Jimin spins you in a circle, both of you laughing brightly.

Jimin’s suit matches your dress wonderfully; Hoseok doesn’t think anyone else could quite pull off the pattern on it quite like Jimin does in such an effortless way. He looks happier than Hoseok has ever seen him, more content, more at home in his own skin.

He isn’t coughing, and he isn’t struggling, and everything worked out well for him. No more flowers in his lungs, no more lies to his friends, no more unrequited love left heavy in his heart. Just happiness and laughter and joy. Hoseok wonders if he’d be the same.

His thumb rubs absently across the business card in his pocket. It’s been there since Jimin handed it to him, what feels like forever ago now. It’s worn, and faded, and torn, and old, but the doctor is still practicing, just got recognized by the World Health Organization for his work. There’s an appointment reminder dinging in Hoseok’s phone, and a business card in his pocket, and he still doesn’t know if he’s even going to go, because you look so beautiful.

You’re surrounded by your flowers, and you’re glowing like the North Star, and he can’t keep his eyes off of you.

“She’s gorgeous, right?”

Hoseok turns and smiles at Namjoon. The man looks just as good, decked out in the best suit money can buy, with crinkles in the corner of his eyes and a dimple in his cheek as he grins.

“Yeah, she is,” He says. Emotions clog in his throat when he looks back at you only to find you looking his way. There’s love in your eyes and a soft, private smile on your lips, and it makes his chest tighten. “She looks really happy.”

“She does,” Namjoon agrees.

Across the room, you wiggle a finger, and the ring glints in the light. Hoseok stifles a laugh, and shakes his head.

“I can’t dance anymore, so this is all on you, big guy,” He tells Namjoon. The other man looks more than happy to take him up on the offer, grinning sheepishly as he sets his drink down to make his way to you.

You take Namjoon’s hand and pull him close as the music transitions into a slow dance. Namjoon presses his forehead against yours, and both your eyes close, and suddenly, Hoseok feels like he shouldn’t be watching. This feels private, intimate, in a way that he’s never been privy to.

His throat clenches and he can feel it in his throat.

He nearly drops his drink, but he gets to a table just in time to put the cup down with shaky hands. He knew, he knew what would happen. He clenches his jaw and heads through the side door of the event space, barely chancing a glance behind him. You don’t seem to have noticed, thankfully, but Hoseok makes eye contact with Jimin. The younger boy taps his wrist, and Hoseok just heads outside.

He doesn’t need Jimin to remind him that time is up.

[then]

“You need what?”

Namjoon’s smile turns shy at Hoseok’s tone. Of all the things that Hoseok could have anticipated Namjoon would ask him for, of all the potential items that he’s been commissioned by the taller man, this was never something he expected.

Though maybe he should have.

“-you know her better than anyone, y’know, and no one can craft like you, Hobi-”

The nickname sounds wrong, suddenly; like poison on Namjoon’s lips, but Hoseok just plasters on his smile again, the one he saves for truly difficult customers who try his patience, and he prays Namjoon doesn’t recognize it.

“No, I get it, yeah.”

“I just...it needs to be perfect. And you’re the only one that I trust to make it perfect.” Hoseok’s heart twinges in his chest, and he can feel the roots moving in his lungs. “I’ll pay you whatever you want, too, cost isn’t a factor, it just needs to be-”

“Perfect,” Hoseok finishes. Namjoon smiles again, sheepish, and nods. “It’s fine, I’ll make it. No charge.”

“Hobi, I can’t ask you to do that, not for free-”

“You didn’t,” Hoseok insists. “I’m offering. Consider it a...gift.” Namjoon’s smile is blinding, and he really must trust Hoseok with this, because he’s heading out just a few minutes after, already on the phone with you because the two of you are meeting for lunch.

He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. It makes sense. It’s been years. Isn’t that the usual time people start to expect this kind of thing?

A voice in the back of his head, bitter and cruel, tells him that he should have charged Namjoon. Should have made him pay an exorbitant amount, enough to keep the shop running through the months of the slow season, enough to help heal the wound in Hoseok’s heart, but he brushes it off. It wouldn’t have felt right, charging for this.

Not when he’s had the design sitting in his head since he wrapped that first stone with wire, since he first learned how to make this jewelry. Not when he’s had pages upon pages of designs drawn out for years, since before he even owned his own shop.

That was never his to design, though, he reminds himself as he heads into the workshop. He had no right to that design.

Just like he has no right to you.

[then]

Later, weeks and weeks later, In the darkness of his apartment, Hoseok cries.

Hoseok cries for all the things he’s never said, all the things he’ll never do, all of the things that you don’t know. He cries for the late nights together and the impromptu adventures and the panicked phone calls. He’s been so blind, he’s refused to see it, he knows. It’s all been waning, all put on the backburner in favor of him.

He’s the one you call when air can’t make it to your lungs. He’s the one you pull from work in the dead of night to make him sleep. He’s the one that gets to wraps his arms around you while you watch the newest episode of whatever show you’re obsessed with lately. It’s all him, and it will never be Hoseok, no matter how hard he wishes, because he’s too late.

He spent so long obsessed with maybe. Maybe you’ll love him back, maybe it’ll ruin the friendship, maybe you’ll realize. For years and years, he said maybe, and now it’s too late, because you’re going to be saying yes to another man’s question, and Hoseok will be left in the darkness, no longer able to look at the stars in your eyes because you’ll be looking at him.

For the first time in his life, Hoseok hates. He hates you for not realizing that he loves you; he hates Namjoon for taking the chance and asking you out; he hates the flowers growing in his chest that are just further proof that he’s alone in his feelings. Mostly, though…

Mostly, Hoseok hates himself, he realizes as he crumples against the wall of his living room. He hates himself for not taking the risk that Namjoon did, for not putting it all out there so that you could give him whatever kind of closure would come.

And it’s there, sitting on his floor, surrounded by the remains of too many projects that he spent too long on that you’ll now never see, that he first begins to consider it. Everyone knows about the surgery, everyone knows that you can get the flowers removed, but that it comes with a cost. He stares, past his tears, past the colorful crystal remnants at his feet, and he considers.

There’s already a numbness spreading through his body; it follows the same path as the roots of the flowers in his lungs, it runs parallel to the petals and seeds, and it only serves to highlight the painful ache that his feelings have caused. He’s already becoming numb to it, so why not? He may lose the ability to love forever, yes, but he can still be your friend. He can still watch you marry another man, this time without the itch in his throat and the flowers in his bile. So why shouldn’t he?

His phone rings, and he already knows it’s you. Not by the specialized ringtone - the only custom one in his entire contact list - and not by the blinking light that’s sure to wake him up in the middle of the night. No, he knows it’s you, because he knows that there’s no way Namjoon could have resisted the temptation to ask you tonight. He’s pictured what you’d look like a hundred thousand times, knows exactly how bright your smile would be as you said yes, how soft the tears would feel as he wiped them away, he knows.

And now you’re calling him, to tell him the great news, or maybe scold him for not giving you a heads up about it in the first place since he’s the one that made the ring. Either way, you’re on the other end of that ringing, ready to tell him about the happiest night of your life, and Hoseok can’t…

He can’t resist it. It’s autopilot as he drags himself to where his phone is still ringing, and it’s only after a deep and shaky breath that he answers it.

You don’t even give him time to speak for you’re launching into your squeals and happy giggles and how Namjoon did it, and Hoseok feels a reluctant smile cross his features. It only grows when you start to gush about the ring, complimenting his skill, and he can feel a bud trying to make its way up his throat, so he mutes his phone. He doesn’t want you to hear as he rushes to the kitchen sink, as he chokes and coughs and gags and eventually spits out a nearly whole sunflower.

It’s not a big one, maybe an inch or so in diameter, and not fully bloomed, but it’s there, and Hoseok knows it’s more of a death sentence than anything.

“Hobi? Are you there?”

He wipes his mouth and clears his throat and leaves the flower in the sink with its red-stained petals so that he can unmute his phone.

“Yeah, Starshine, I’m here.”

[now]

In the alley beside your wedding, Hoseok coughs. He coughs and he gags and he chokes, until the ground is littered with flower petals that aren’t from your bouquets, and blood drops and tears. He chokes until he can’t breathe anymore, until he has to reach in and pull the flower from his throat before he really does die, and it makes him shudder when he sees that it’s nearly fully formed, almost completely bloomed and everything.

He doesn’t think he’ll make it through the next one.

He stands up, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of the red suit he chose for this exact reason, and he looks through the window, to the space where you should be dancing with Namjoon.

You aren’t, though. You’re watching him, brows drawn together, confused, and you’re saying something that he can’t quite make out through the glass.

Fear strikes his heart. Fear that you saw everything, that you know everything, but directly after it comes relief, because he knows now. He knows what he needs to do, because he doesn’t think he can bear to have you watch him die, but he doesn’t think he can bear not to love you anymore, either; no matter what, he’s lost you, and that knowledge solidifies his decision. He holds a hand over his chest, and you mirror him, your fingers closing around the pendant he made so, so long ago.

You turn, looking for someone - Namjoon, maybe, or Jimin, to ask what’s wrong with him, and he takes the opportunity. He heads out of the alley, as fast as his legs can carry him, because he knows.

When you finally make it into the alley, you don’t understand. Your best friend, your best man, is nowhere to be found. In his wake are flower petals, drawn out by the wind.

One catches your eye, and you pick it up. It’s soft against your fingertips, and you frown when you see the red on it.

You don’t ever see Hoseok again.

#magicshopnet #ficswithluv #btswriterscollective #bangtanscenery #btswritersguild #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #j-hope fanfic #j-hope angst #hoseok fanfic #hoseok angst #hoseok fluff #hobi fanfic #hobi angst #hobi fluff #ddaenggtan

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tirednotflirting · 4 years

Text

you're the one to help me get to sleep // maybe i fell in love when you woke me up

oh boy that title looks a lot longer on tumblr than it did on ao3. anyway.

i got stressed out yesterday and finished some fluff bc that’s what we do here at tirednotflirting. forgot to post it here yesterday though so i am doing that Now post-first cup of coffee of the day and halfway through the french toast i made.

random side not but i’ve been listening to my time capsule playlist on spotify and i highly rec checking yours out bc this is So Fun.

here is this on ao3 if you wanna read there.

The sun is just beginning to set over LA and Alex is in love.

The day had been long but good. One of those California summer days that stretched on long enough that it made him wonder if the sun would ever start heading toward its resting place below the horizon. Warm but not hot, the slight breeze allowing them to spend the afternoon writing outside instead of stuck up in the studio.

He’s out on the balcony now, already changed into pajama pants since they decided they would stay in for the night, and a glass of wine dangles between his fingers in between sips. The city is somehow quiet from his spot above it though he can tell it must be loud from all the activity he can see on the street. It’s nice, Alex thinks, to find peace among the blaring white noise of Los Angeles. Today had been his last full day in the city, his flight back to the farm and his furry friends sometime in the early afternoon. He has his boarding pass loaded onto his phone and could easily wander back inside to find his phone and triple check the time so he could make note of when they need to be up in the morning but he’s not quite ready to start thinking about how he has to leave again yet.

Jack would also just immediately kick him back out to his current spot if he tried heading inside right now anyway. Over coffee that morning Jack had declared he would be making dinner for Alex’s last night (It’s romantic, Al, and I only have one more night to romance the fuck out of you). At the time Alex had assumed it was the still half-asleep side of Jack speaking but when Alex arrived back at the apartment after spending part of the afternoon writing, he’d been handed the glass of wine currently resting in his hand and ushered to the balcony door by an apron-clad Jack.

It was rare for Alex to feel this much peace on his last day of a trip to see Jack. Usually there was some element of sadness or anxiety over the impending time apart until more band things or another trip to either coast. But as he tips back the last of his wine and stares back out toward the last bits of light in the city sky, all Alex can feel is a fullness in his chest.

He decides he’s going to want more wine with dinner and given the time, he figures Jack must be close to finishing things up. Alex pulls himself up and pushes the sliding door open to call out toward the kitchen.

“Jack, babe, am I allowed into the kitchen for more wine?”

Jack’s head pokes out from the kitchen with a pout on his lips. “Five more minutes, Alex. You have to give a chef space to work.”

“Bring me the bottle then, please,” Alex says in his sweetest voice, his lashes fluttering. He can see Jack’s dramatic eye roll from where he leans against the door frame before he steps back into the kitchen, emerging a few seconds later with the bottle of white he had poured for Alex earlier.

“Here you go, you lush,” Jack says while passing over the bottle once he’s close enough. Before he has a chance to step away, Alex pulls at the front of his apron to briefly press their lips together. Jack drops a hand to the bottom of Alex’s back to hold him close, his fingers pressing into his skin through his t-shirt.

“I like the apron. It’s cute.” Alex compliments as he smoothes out the wrinkles in the fabric.

Jack’s hand runs up and down Alex’s spine as he hums. It’s an action that mimics the way Jack had been waking him up most days, and a lazy smile pulls at Alex’s lips at the memory of the fond moment. “Thank you,” Jack muses. “I only wore it because I figured you would think that, so it’s nice to know I was right.”

Alex laughs. “You wore something just because you thought I might find it cute?”

“I like being told I’m a cute boy. Sue me,” Jack says, his hand wrapping more securely around Alex’s waist. “Now go back out. I’m just putting things into bowls, I’ll be out in a second, handsome.”

Alex feels himself blush as Jack leans forward to press his lips to Alex’s temple before spinning on his heel and heading back toward the kitchen. As he steps back outside, Alex can’t help but hope that they never leave this phase of their relationship. This not quite honeymoon but not quite settled phase, where they’re so damn comfortable being with each other (in a way Alex used to spend hours awake at night worrying they would never find the path to) but compliments like the one Jack’s just thrown his way still make him blush. It’s a nice spot to be in for now, he thinks.

He pulls the cork from the wine and gives himself another generous pour before leaving the bottle in the middle of the table they’re meant to be eating at. The sky is just fading into dusk, the city draped in a blanket of purples and blues when the light above him clicks on. Alex turns from his spot to find Jack sliding the door open mostly with his foot, two bowls somewhat precariously balanced in each of his hands. Alex jumps up and ignores Jack’s whines as he takes the bowls from him and wanders back to set them on the table while Jack jogs back through the apartment to return with plates and silverware and another wine glass.

“Alright so if this sucks, we’re blaming my mom because she basically walked me through the whole thing step by step,” Jack says once they’re back at the table while he pours wine into his own glass. “Also the caprese salad was her idea since I wasn’t feeling leafy but I feel like romantic dinner date is incomplete without salad.”

“You called your mom to have her walk you through a recipe?” Alex smiles as he lets his head drop to rest in the palm of his hand while he watches Jack spoon some kind of pasta onto the two plates.

“Listen, you know I’m helpless in a kitchen,” Jack says while pushing one of the plates in Alex’s direction. “And it’s your last night here and I wanted to do something nice for you, damn it.”

“That’s very cute,” Alex replies before taking another sip from his wine glass. “You’re very cute.”

“You already told me I was cute. You gotta get more creative with your adjectives, Mr Songwriter.”

Alex shakes his head in mock protest. “I said the apron was cute before, not you.” Jack scowls at him while gently kicking his ankle. “Hush, I knew what you meant.” A smile pulls at Alex’s lips when he notices how Jack leaves their feet all tangled up together under the table after the kick. It’s silly, he knows, to get all blushy over such a simple, nonchalant action but he can’t help it.

Jack points his fork across the table at Alex after taking a bite. “Also my mom said to call her when you get back. She wants to catch up and probably bug you again about when you’re going to propose.”

Alex laughs brightly. “Well my mom was asking that I get you to Facetime her when you’ve got some free time likely for the exact same conversation.” He gestures down to his plate with a nod. “This really does not suck, by the way.”

“Our mothers really ought to be more strategic in their approach on this,” Jack says while shaking his head. “I mean it’s completely impractical that we both propose. And thank you, I try.”

“I think they figure if they double the effort they have a greater chance of success or something.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.”

The banter back and forth over their meal continues well into the night. After a while, Alex insists on clearing the table and taking things inside. He quickly cleans the dishes before grabbing another bottle of wine from the fridge and clean glasses and heading back out. Jack has moved over to the couch he keeps out there and has a blanket pulled over his bare legs, the nighttime breeze dropping the temperature enough to call it a cool night. Alex fills their glasses and leaves the bottle on the table before wandering over to where Jack has decided to lounge.

“For you, sir,” Alex announces while handing over one of the glasses. He takes a seat next Jack, scooting closer to his side to steal some of the blanket and drops his head to rest against Jack’s chest.

Jack hums his thanks as he takes a sip and wraps an arm around Alex’s shoulders. His fingers immediately move to play with the sleeve of his t-shirt as he sighs. “Is it selfish to ask you to cancel your flight and stay longer?”

“Not selfish but also not really a possibility, my love,” Alex says while tilting his head up to press his lips to Jack’s jaw. “I’ve got animal friends to attend to and you’ve got that trip out to see Zack to pack for.”

“Mmm, yeah you’re right,” Jack says while swirling the wine in his glass. “The goats and Zack need cuddles too, I guess.”

“Exactly.” Alex sighs as he lifts his shoulder, asking Jack a silent question that he thankfully knows the answer to. Jack drops his hand to rest in his lap and Alex reaches over for it, his fingers slipping into the spaces between Jack’s and squeezing to press their palms together. He smiles lazily at the action. It’s the little things about time with Jack that stick in his brain when they’re apart. The weight of Jack’s hand in his own, the steady sound of his heartbeat below Alex’s ear, the tapping of Jack’s foot against the ground since even in the quiet, still moments Jack has to find a way to expel the extra energy he always seems to possess. It’s all so familiar and warm. Alex isn’t sure what life would be like without the small details that make up them.

He isn’t sure how long they sit there, sipping and resting against each other while staring out at the light polluted LA night sky. Long enough that Jack eventually lets out a yawn that breaks Alex out of the daze he’d fallen into, the gentle rising and falling of Jack’s chest beneath his head acting as a lullaby of sorts.

“Bedtime?” Alex asks with a gentle laugh. He lets their hands fall apart in favor of moving to cup Jack’s jaw. His thumb runs across the top of his cheek, just below his sleepy eyes.

“Think so, yeah,” Jack slurs his words slightly as he leans into Alex’s touch. “Don’t you need to pack? We’ll probably need to head out at like eleven since your flight is at one.”

And of course Jack remembers what time his flight is at when Alex hasn’t bothered to check all night. He’s always taking care of him in the little ways. In the ways that Alex didn’t realize he needed taking care of, really.

Alex moves to stand and smiles at Jack’s pout when he reaches to pull him up with him. “I can pack in the morning. Right now I just want to cuddle my boy.”

Jack grins at his words and rises without any more protest. They gather the glasses and shuffle back inside. Jack steals them away from Alex once they reach the stairs and gestures for him to head upstairs while he goes in the direction of the kitchen. Alex pouts at the action and leans against the railing to wait for Jack to round the corner again.

Jack jumps a bit when he finds Alex in the same spot he left him. “And you thought I was a sleepy boy?” Jack laughs, something warm and soft behind his gaze. Jack takes a couple steps up, his hand reaching back to loosely link with Alex’s to guide them upstairs.

They get ready for bed quickly despite the half asleep state they both drifted into and soon enough Alex is crawling beneath wrinkled sheets. He’s just barely plugged his phone into the charger when a pair of arms pull him toward the center of the bed.

“How are you always so warm?” Jack mumbles into the back of Alex’s hair as his arms wrap more fully around Alex’s middle. He turns in his arms and Jack settles against his chest. “Not that I’m complaining since it’s freezing in here. But still.”

Alex laughs as he tries to keep his eyes open while Jack nuzzles his cool nose against his collarbone. He reaches a hand up to thread into the hair at the back of Jack’s neck. “Somebody’s got to keep you warm.”

“I’m glad it’s you,” Jack mumbles almost incoherently. Alex waits for him to say more as he continues drawing short patterns through Jack’s hair but he only softly hums and nestles further against his chest.

Alex is moments away from falling falling falling to a peaceful rest when Jack’s hand settles against the bottom of his back beneath the sweatshirt he stole from his closet, the extra layer of Jack’s familiar scent providing some additional security on his last night in this bed. Alex feels Jack’s sleep steady breath puff against his neck and in his final moments of consciousness, all he can think is Jack Jack Jack. His gentle laugh and warm gaze fills Alex’s mind as he lets his eyes finally flutter shut.

And maybe that’s what love is, falling asleep already in a dream.

It’s pouring down rain in Maryland and Jack is in love.

He’s only just woken up, his mind still cloudy from sleep and his eyes still locked shut. Jack isn’t sure what time it is but given that he’s rising naturally and not from an alarm or kisses being pressed against his cheeks, he assumes it must be pretty late into the morning hours.

It’s his first morning on this visit out to the farm. His flight the previous night had gotten in before dinner so Alex had declared it date night (Is every night we’re together not date night, Alex? Romance mode 24/7, baby.) and insisted they stop at the store for ingredients before heading back to the house. Once they were at the farm, they tended to the animals (or Alex did while Jack sat on the floor and let the goats chew on his hoodie strings) before heading back inside where Jack sat at the counter and told Alex stories about his airport adventures while watching him cook. They had tried to start a movie after food but Jack kept falling asleep every few minutes with his head in Alex’s lap so it wasn’t long before he was being pulled in the direction of the bedroom.

He sighs as the last moments of sleep drift off and he settles back into the land of the living. He’s yet to open his eyes in case the sun is peeking in anywhere in the room since he knows he’s not yet awake enough for true daylight. Two thoughts enter his mind almost immediately though: it’s cold as hell and there’s coffee brewing in the kitchen. Both of these things are a result of a third thing that Jack notices and it’s that Alex has left him alone in bed.

Jack would get whiny about the third thing but he knows that given where they are it would be pretty selfish of him. Mornings at the farm are loaded with more responsibilities than mornings in LA, and Jack knows the animal friends deserve breakfast and Alex’s bright, sleepy smile just as much as he does. Plus, his boy did make him coffee.

Jack takes a deep breath and catches the scent of dark roast mixed in with the scent of Alex (his cologne and the same laundry detergent he’s used since his mom would pack it for him on their early tours) before finally pushing himself up from the mattress and opening his eyes. The room is thankfully still dark since Alex left the curtains closed for him but he can hear the rain beating down against the windows even through the heavy fabric. Jack pouts then, suddenly worried about Alex having to wander around out in the January rain by himself.

He finds a hoodie and the slippers his mom gifted him for Christmas a few weeks earlier on the floor beside the bed and pulls both on before shuffling from the bedroom. Jack immediately pulls at the sleeves to cover his hands and considers going back to the bedroom to steal a shirt to throw on underneath the hoodie but the coffee hits his nose again and he continues in the direction of the kitchen.

The only light on in the room is the one over the sink and because of the rain, the kitchen remains pretty dark despite the clock on the microwave reading that it’s a little bit past ten. Jack wanders through the room to the drying rack by the sink to get his mug (the one he found in some little thrift store somewhere in Texas with the painted butterflies) before turning back to the island. He fills the mug from the mostly full French press that must have been made pretty recently, Jack thinks, as he burns his tongue a little on his first sip. Fresh coffee means that Alex has already been out to the stalls for the morning so Jack turns then, having a good feeling about where Alex may have wandered off to, and lets his hip rest against the edge of the counter.

From where he stands leaning against the kitchen island, Jack can see Alex’s head poking out from the back of the couch out on the front porch. He’s got a blue beanie pulled over his head and Jack can see his hands cupped around a mug and he can see the steam rising against Alex’s face. He pulls his phone from his pocket to check the temperature and rolls his eyes at the number shown on the screen but it doesn’t stop him from lifting his own mug to head in the direction of the front door.

Alex looks over in his direction as Jack pushes the door closed behind him to join Alex out in the cold morning air. The rain had settled mostly and a thick fog blankets over the property, the trees at the end of the road and pasture just barely visible. A soft smile pulls at Alex’s lips as he pats the cushion beside him. Jack returns the grin as he takes in the crinkles beside his boy’s tired eyes. Sometimes Jack forgets they’re getting older but then notices a gray hair when he’s looking in the mirror while brushing his teeth or notices Alex’s laughter lines deepening ever so slightly and it reminds him just how long they’ve been on these wild adventures together.

He takes the spot beside Alex and pulls the blanket he’s got covering his lap over his own before letting his head drop to rest against Alex’s shoulder. Jack turns to press his cold nose against Alex’s neck and smiles when he hears a soft whine in response to the action.

“Why are we having our coffee outside when it’s nearly freezing out?” Jack mumbles against Alex’s skin. He feels a hand reach up to card through his bed head and smiles at the feeling.

“You’ve been in California too long,” Alex teases. “We would have been calling this a warm morning back in the day.”

“Jesus, are we really old enough for things to be back in the day now?”

“We’re definitely getting there, love.” Alex laughs before pausing to take a sip from his mug. “Anyway, I finished up feeding everybody and wanted to keep listening to the rain.”

Jack figures that’s a fair enough answer (at least coming from Alex) so they sit in silence for a little while. They sip from their respective mugs and Jack cuddles impossibly closer to Alex for warmth as he searches for patterns in the sound of the rain against the roof. Jack notices the shapes Alex has been drawing through his hair change suddenly and he sits up a bit to see his face and pouts at the expression he’s met with.

“What are you thinking so hard about, huh?” Jack asks as he reaches a hand up to rub away the lines across Alex’s forehead. “Is everything okay?”

“Do you want to move in together?” Alex asks in a somewhat rushed voice while his hands pull at the ends of his sleeves. “Like here? On the farm?”

Jack’s hand falls from Alex’s forehead to cup his cheek. “What?”

“I mean, you should probably keep the place in LA since we’re over there enough for work stuff. And I’ve just been thinking that this feels like a good place to settle down and,” he pauses to take a breath and looks up to meet Jack’s gaze. “And I don’t know if I’m moving too fast but I want to settle down with you.”

“Al, I’ve known you for like, half my life. We’re not exactly operating on a normal relationship timeline here. I’d love to move in,” Jack says into the space between them and he can’t help but lean forward to brush their lips together when Alex’s eyes widen. “Though you’re going to have to teach me how to actually be helpful around this place rather than just sit and look cute while petting the goats.”

“Having someone to sit and look cute with the goats is an essential part of farm maintenance, Jack. Don’t sell yourself short,” Alex says while reaching to cover the hand Jack still has against his cheek. “But don’t worry. We’ll teach you to be a proper farm boy. Get you some boots and everything.”

“I want a cowboy hat, too. But sounds perfect.” Jack says before leaning in to press their lips together again. Alex pulls him closer and Jack feels himself smile into the kiss. Alex’s warmth almost makes him forget about the cold winter air surrounding them and his mind is flooded with the thought of a future where everyday is spent with the eternal summer’s day that is Alex Gaskarth.

Alex pulls away first and a giggle leaves his lips as Jack whines at him. “Guess we should go ahead and actually get the day started then?”

“Has to happen eventually, I suppose.” Jack sighs as he sinks further into the couch.

Alex laughs as he stands up, his hand reaching down to link their hands together. “Come on. We’ve got brunch with the mothers in an hour and now we’ve got good news to share with them. Moms love good news.”

Jack allows himself to be pulled up from the couch and in the direction of the front door. He leans against the wood once they’re back inside and pulls Alex into his hold while his arms move to hang over his shoulders. “We smell like farm and wet dog. And since we’re going to be sharing a home now, I think it only makes sense that we try to conserve resources. What do you think?”

Alex rolls his eyes and slides his hands up to rest against Jack’s chest. “Thank you for the invitation but I figured I would make up another pot of coffee for us while you go get ready?”

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“I keep asking myself the same thing.”

With a final press of his lips to Jack’s cheek, Alex heads off to make the promised coffee. Jack watches him head into the kitchen from where he stands in the front hall. He sees Alex leave the mugs on the island in favor of pulling his phone out to connect to the speaker next to the sink and a second later a song starts playing that immediately has him bouncing on his toes as he fills the kettle from the sink. Jack smiles as he leans against the frame into the dining room while he watches Alex dance around and softly sing while scooping new coffee grounds. He turns then and Jack is caught as Alex smiles and winks in his direction, a mouthed Go while pointing in the direction of the bedroom being his parting gift.

Jack blows a kiss and starts making his way down the front hall to the stairs. He pauses for a moment at the table where Alex had left a mess of different holiday cards he’d received throughout the season. Bright colors and happy smiles meet Jack’s eyes as he spots friends and their families and pets. He sighs and continues down the hall after a moment, wondering if maybe they could get the goats to sit still long enough for a holiday card sometime next fall. It’s a swirling, dreamy thought, but he spends the rest of the morning stuck on the idea of seeing their smiling faces and well wishes mixed into their loved ones’ piles of cards.

And maybe that’s what love is, waking up to the beginning of another dream.

#jalex #jalex fic #i said this on ao3 but i sent the first half of this to bella but not the second half so ignore that the grammar is probably better in the #first half bc of that #this was the first piece i've written in probably several months that's longer than 2k so that's kinda cool #probably bc it could have been split in half but shhhhhh

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monsterkissed · 3 years

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For the ask meme! 16, 25, 27, 34, 35!

16. Guilty pleasures: i honestly struggled with this and i think in the end the problem is simply that i do not feel guilty about the gross horror/monster things that i like

25: Side adventures/spin-offs: i think about smol cute adorable half-demon trish una approximately seven times a day

27. Nicest comment: you mean aside from ones about inducing a case of the genders in ppl bc ngl i'm p proud of those personally i mean in all seriousness the ones from ppl thinking about trans/nb/ace things bc of my work are very near and dear to my heart, those always give me the warm fuzzies. but also any time anyone has ever copy-pasted a joke into the comment box to laugh at it is delightful, and i still have a soft spot for "Impressively fucked up, beautifully written, and about right for this ship in terms of 'oh god why... oh no that tracks'" i might have to get that embroidered on something

34. An excerpt I'm particularly proud of: i mean this would be cheating, right: “Boss…?”

He smiled again, so lovely that it hurt. “And I told you that I would find you.”

Doppio was starting to feel lightheaded. “You’re… Abbacchio?”

The man leaned back slightly, those eyes mercifully releasing him to look over his own form with naked disdain. “So it would seem.”

Doppio’s breath was still trying to suffocate him. “Have… Have you always been Abbacchio?”

“It is a very recent development.”

but you know how i feel about my bad jokes during dramatic scenes and i can't just drop the entirety of the vampire!giorno au in one post.

oh wait no this, this gross horrible monster intimacy i am pretty proud of in retrospect (readmore bc blood, gore, titular monsterkisses):

The taste was foul, caustic and rank every time he took it, but it looked so content to be… tending to him, offering communion, sharing something sublime, whatever it thought it was doing in the depths of its peculiar, inhuman mind. He stared at it, at that terrifying face so open and ardent. When he flicked his tongue out to lick the blood off its fingertips it made a sweet, amused little sound, and brushed its thumb along his cheek.

When he finally found the strength to arrest the arm’s progress as it reached up to pick the morsels from another mouthful it pulled away slightly, confusion and the beginnings of hurt welling up on its face. He hushed it with what breath he could manage, pulling insistently on its shoulder, down, though it wasn’t until he had it almost leaning completely over him that realisation crackled over its features.

It was a clumsy, inelegant manoeuvre. When its mouth first pressed against his so much blood poured into him that he thought he would choke, spilling out of the corners and gaps as he pushed into it regardless, barely able to tell what was living flesh and what was steaming meat and still giving an unhappy whine when it finally pulled away, the entire bottom half of its face red and black and sticky, his own probably even worse.

The next one was better. More controlled, both of them more familiar with the dimensions of the other, deeper and sweet in spite of the salty tang of gore warmed by their breath and he strained towards it with what strength he could muster, his tongue finding row upon row of wickedly sharp teeth.

35. Ramble: hmm, in general i still have the Anxiety about getting stuff out but i feel like my work has really improved over the last couple of years and there is a lot more stuff that i really enjoy up there now? stuff that i think is Good Writing and not just Kinda Okay Writing For Someone Like Me I Guess. i'm having fun with more novel ideas and weird stuff and ambitious projects like bngn and in all enjoying it and the audience of fellow odd people it attracts (hello). previously my original work was a lot more unashamedly experimental but my fandom stuff was way tamer, i guess because that was going out into the big wide internet and i worried a lot more about people making judgements about it (why i worried more about that than for the original work i was actually submitting for a grade is a question for bad brains science). nowadays i care more about putting out stuff i genuinely like reading myself and if people like it that's grand but if they don't that's fine. i am still really hoping to hit an average of 40,000 words a month and i still think that's a reasonable life goal so clearly things are either going pretty well or catastrophically.

#fanfic #jjba

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kxhlzn · 5 years

Text

[i.] the birdwatcher & his lover.

➳ synopsis: it's the summer of '89, and you discover new things about yourself— some good, and some you wish you could swallow and never see again. dealing with the newfound confusion of sexuality, you must learn the ins and outs of friendship and what it means to grow up.

➳ genre: coming-of-age drama, fluff, crack, angst, slow burn romance, lgbtq+ themes.

➳ characters/pairing(s): eventual stanley uris/reader (main couple), unrequited!beverly marsh/reader, eventual richie/eddie (possibly unrequited), eventual bev/ben.

➳ wordcount: 3.2k

➳ warnings: profanity, partial nudity (the lake), slight angst.

➳ song recs: "beverly" from the it soundtrack & "she" by dodie.

➳ author's notes: hi hi hi! this is my first fic on tumblr and honestly i'm a bit anxious about this bc i haven't written in ages lmfao. this is a series, so pls don't hesitate to send in asks and the like! nothing is set entirely into stone yet. please note! the characters are fifteen in this, and pennywise doesn't attack derry at all; so georgie is alive and well and chasing paper boats in the rain. richie & reader are both bisexual, ben & bev fall in love as kids. reader and bill are vv close but platonically.

June, 1989.

the first time you meet stanley uris, he is perched on a oak bench planted in the middle of derry park, his bruised knees pressed together in order to keep his journal steady. his chin is pointed to the heavens, eyes searching the clouds, a curious glow in them; cheeks dusted a light pink, he was angelic, the sun's rays a dull comparison to the golden glow of his messy curls. the boy had a nervous tick of tapping his pencil against the yellowed paper in his lap, followed by the curve of his brow when he noticed a bird flutter overheard.

you, at age eleven, were fascinated by him, and lacked a filter to save you from your mouth. it's almost as if the hinge of your jaw had lost a screw, and you feared if it hung open too long a fly might seek entrance there. of course, it would have been entirely avoidable if you hadn't sat your butt right next to him, and stuck your nose right where it didn't belong: in his journal.

"your handwriting is pretty, but your drawings can use some serious work. is that supposed to be a bird? it looks like it's having a heart attack," you had said, tilting your head, "the wings are too jagged and the legs too... sticky, you know? not like sticky like honey, but sticky like... you know, sticks? are you mute or something?"

your blank stare forces stanley's hand to shoot to the back of his neck as he tries to find the words to attend to all of your commentary. his mouth opens and closes a few times before you roll your eyes dramatically, slumping into the back of the bench. stanley clears his throat, eyes falling to the ground.

a silence ensues, and you glance from his crestfallen expression to the drawings. "and, uh, his eyes are buggy; they look like fat marbles. they're taking up his whole face."

stan releases a breathy laugh, and he raises an eyebrow at the graphite drawing in front of him. "they do, don't they?"

you mirror his laugh, and nod solemnly. "there's no saving them," you say, and decide to tell him your name, outstretching your hand proudly.

"stanley," the boy replies, meeting your grip and giving it a good shake. "uh, you know a lot about drawing. could you fix him?"

you hum, taking the journal from his lap and dropping it in your own. you tilt your head at the sketch, putting your chin in your hand. "it's going to be a tough job, but i think he'll survive. scalpel, sir?"

he hands you the yellow pencil, sharpened down half its original length. "anastesia? or uh," you inquire, not aware of how to spell or pronounce the word, "the stuff that doctors give people during surgery."

"anesthesia," stanley corrects, pulling a pink eraser from his pocket and giving it away.

"yeah, that," you bring the eraser down and the bird lines are soon gone, but the remnants of what was stays behind on the paper. "your lines are really hard. you've prolly got heavy hand, you know. but don't worry, i do too."

the next few minutes are in comfortable silence, save for your absent-minded humming. stanley leans over your shoulder, but not to the point of invading personal space, studying each pencil stroke gracing the journal. he makes a comment about the structure of the real-life bird, and you nod your head in agreement. the two of you synchronize nearly perfectly — you sketch what he tells you to. you aren't very observant to the outside world, but you focus on details in your drawings. stanley will mention that the creature has a stray mark on its beak, and you pencil it in without the graphite being too dramatic, which stanley is quick to do in his work.

after an hour of chatting and working, you are sitting on the back of the bench, feet placed comfortably on the seat. you are talking on and on about a story that happened during your english class, and you don't refrain a single detail. stanley listens intently, body slouched forward over his journal as he writes physical descriptions of the bird next to the drawing. he checks the time on his watch, and nearly jumps out of his seat. he swivels around, eyes blown wide, but you don't seem to notice as your arms wave about, mimicking a girl in your class.

stanley barks your name, which sounds sweet on his tongue, he realizes. when you focus on him curiously, he looks guilty. "i have to go. i was supposed to go to my friend's house so we could go to the quarry together. uh, unless you want to.. go?"

you grin, hopping onto the soil beside him. "for sure!" you hook your arm in his, and skip forward a few steps.

"wrong way," he says sheepishly.

you turn around, now exceedingly confident. "onward, steed!"

the next few years, up until freshman year, you are best friends with stanley uris and his gang of friends; bill denbrough, richie tozier, and eddie kaspbrak. bill was the kindest of all of them, a sensitive boy with a heart of gold. his love for art made him an easy companion, and you grew very close the summer of 7th grade, spending many hours a week at his house simply talking and making art. his little brother is like your favorite person, the little squirt constantly bugging bill about when he'll see you again, and telling bill he likes you better because you'll play with him.

eddie is a mother hen to you, warning you about the dangers you put yourself in on a daily basis. you are more reckless than the other boys, so it's common to see eddie turn an ugly shade of purple when he witnesses you do something exceedingly ignorant. with your asthma, he can relate to you, but you personally believe the inhalers you have are pointless and there's no need to rely on them, but eddie disagrees. when he takes a puff from his emergency inhaler, which is more of a daily one, he tends to shove one in your mouth too for simple sake of anxiety. you've found that he calms down when you play with his hair or give his scalp a light scratch, his voice lost in the serenity of it all.

ah, richie tozier; you two are scarily similar, and everyone is aware of it. he's of course referred to as "trashmouth", and you're known as "loudmouth", as richie has a tendency to speak inappropriate things, and you just keep speaking and can't properly whisper to save your life. a major difference between the two of you is your vulnerability, naiveness, and positive charisma. his talkativeness is characterized by sarcasm and the "class clown" stereotype, while yours relies more on really just being a chatterbox, whose thoughts spill out at rapid speeds without being filtered by your brain. fortunately, it's easier to make friends this way, and you tend to be the ice-breaker of your friends. richie, personally, admires this about you and thinks of you as an "innocent little ball of sunshine", and likes to put his arm on your head to show his dominance.

your relationship with stanley uris is a bit complicated; of course, at first, it was unproblematic being friends with him, as you were easy opposites. you spoke into the space that he was too quiet to fill, and it was comfortable for the both of you; you got to speak your mind without interruption, and stanley was able to have company that didn't force him to interact gregariously. however, as you grew with time, he found your carelessness to be irritating, as he hated feeling he had to be anxious all of the time; stanley enjoys turning his alarm off, and running on low function, and he thinks it is hard to do that when you're jumping off cliffs, climbing on slippery rocks with your eyes covered, and provoking bullies three years older than you. he finds you irrational and childlike, which is difficult for him to grasp as an inherently strategic and analytical person. you are a glass half full, and he is glass half empty. he prefers to consider the consequences, and you have a tendency to wait to find them out after you commit the deed. he has his future planned, and you want to live in the moment; you enjoy surprises, new opportunities, as there is something entirely boring about being sure what you plan to do each day. sometimes, you believe stanley wakes early, dresses in the outfit he put aside the night before, and takes a seat to write down a schedule. you shiver at the thought. unfortunately, the disagreements put tension on your friendship, as hanging out periodically ends with an argument, and one of you stomping out to rant to one of the others. you sincerely care for each other, but also find each other extremely irritating when the situation calls for it; which is becoming increasingly habitual as you grow taller with age.

but you also find him to be beautiful.

you're fifteen when you properly meet ben hanscom, beverly marsh, and mike hanlon. it's also the first time you felt something strike deep in your gut for that particular redheaded girl, and the way her newly chopped locks curled at the ends. she had tucked your hair behind your ear as you wrestled with the button on your overall shorts, and took your hands in hers, pushing them aside so she could slip the button through the hole properly. she was so graceful, elegant even, in the way she held herself. that day, you labeled the twist of your insides as insecurity, nothing else.

it was a mix of many things, you realized a long time after. insecurity, deep-rooted sexual confusion, and jealousy.

beverly is the first to jump off the cliff and into the lake below. after aiding you in your clothing disaster, she slips her creamy overdress from her shoulders, and gives her arms a good shake. she departs with a glance back at you, the sun beating down on her hair like fiery red flames, and her icy eyes contrasting its intensity. suddenly, you feel so small; so plain. before she could see your lip quiver, she was in the air, high like an angel, before falling towards the murky waters.

the stars in bill and ben's eyes, and the admiration in the rest of theirs, erupt a cacophony for you, striking your heart like a harsh note: these aren't your boys anymore.

bill jumps next, and then the others, eddie last. the splash sends spikes in your spine, but it's a warm hand on your shoulder that kick-starts your body. sandy curls appear in front of your face, tilting to reveal the kind eyes of stanley uris. his mouth is shaped in a firm line, a bit disappointed by your lack of enthusiasm. he seems to be at war with himself.

he stays silent for a moment, eyes searching the sky for the right words. "i want to go last," he finally breathes, seemingly triumphed in his verbiage, "i don't want them to see me cross my fingers behind my back before i go."

you laugh softly, relieved. you are grateful knowing he wasn't going to pry in your hesitation, or your brief self-consciousness. even when the two of you bicker, you hold high respect for stan; he's a boy of few words. he isn't shy, and certainly isn't bashful; he simply chooses to speak sparingly, believing that the chattiest voices aren't always loudest. he doesn't word vomit to fill the silence; that is how you know his words are meticulously chosen, like pieces to a greater puzzle.

stanley's thin frame makes no unnecessary movements, but rather awaits yours. his hand has long since abandoned your shoulder, and rather is cuffing his other calmly in front of his hips. the lack of speech isn't menacing or awkward, but instead a bit comforting; it gives you adequate time to finish undressing, tossing aside your socks and shoes. you pull the loose scrunchie from your hair, and give yourself a silent nod in reassurance.

"promise not to tell?" stan says quietly when he's sure you're more stable, curious eyes searching for yours.

"pinky promise," you insist, holding up the smallest finger on your right hand. when his wraps around yours, you toss him a childlike grin. "i never break them."

and then you're gone, cascading down towards the green waters, each wave crystalizing in your descent.

"i know," stanley whispers to himself. little do you know, he has the same epiphany you had just seconds ago, aweing after beverly.

he crosses his fingers behind his back, and steps off the cliff's edge.

air reaches your lungs when you pull your head above the surface, and you gather your sopping hair from your skin, laying it against your neck. you face the sky, and stan's dive is a flash of gold: like a bird, graceful in it's dip, his curls like its wings.

you find yourself wanting to ask him what it's like to fly.

—

on a boiling day in the middle of june, you and the others spend a day in the quarry again, but instead have a picnic by the rocks rather than racing back into town for a snack at eddie's house. it was mike's idea; he hadn't told anyone until he showed up early that day, sweaty and beaming with a quaint basket and blanket tucked under his arm. you felt a bit guilty, honestly— you wish he would've told you so you all could pitch in.

he seemed ecstatic, though, setting it up, so you couldn't bring yourself to mention that.

beverly says she wants to sunbathe with you, so you agree with hot cheeks and position yourself awkwardly next to her, posture straight with your knees tucked under your arms. your stiffness goes unnoticed by her, thankfully, so you're able to admire her form in peace as she stretches her limbs out with a soft sigh. compared to her, you feel unbearably rigged, unbearably not feminine. a thought crosses your mind that her own feminity outshines yours so much that the boys must think of you as one of them, minus the third leg, and with twin petals blossoming on your chest.

the boys are curled around their usual spots, the multiple boulders a few feet from your seated position, chatting carelessly. mike is discluded, lost in preparing the perfect picnic for you all. perhaps if you had noticed the simplicity of it all, you wouldn't have blurted out something ignorant to force a tension in the summer air.

"do you guys think i'm pretty?"

the conversation drops briefly, takes a soft roar, and then entirely ceases as seven pairs of eyes draw to you, including mike and beverly. the red-haired girl has a smirk on her lips, tilting her head ever so slightly as if to test your patience and purpose.

bill clears his throat gently. "u-um, well, yeah of c-course.. w-why wouldn't w-we?"

you shrug nonchalantly, and the others eyeball each other, pleading for another to say something else. eddie and ben slyly play rock paper scissors for a sacrifice.

richie whistles lowly. "this is gonna be good."

your face's temperature soon begins to rival the sun as your breath hitches in your throat, attention turned directly on beverly, as though her presence might calm your nerves. it doesn't. your lower lip is caught between your teeth, as you grow progressively more embarrassed of yourself the longer the others stare.

beverly smiles gently, her intensely blue eyes never straying from yours. "i think you're the prettiest girl in the world."

you sputter suddenly, adjusting your aviators, and spill out something along the lines of "i have to go take a piss", and skitter off in the direction of the woods. you curse yourself the entire way.

richie laughs, breaking the tension. he pats stanley's bare back roughly as the lanky boy stares at the trees you disappeared behind. "and the hits just keep on coming."

"beep beep, richie," eddie scolds, and richie winks at him, suggestively nodding towards him. eddie rolls his eyes and his gaze drops to his feet.

"sandwiches, anyone?" mike whimpers, a lopsided grin as he holds up a loaf of bread. stanley gently pushes past him and disappears into the brush.

"well, i, for one, would like three," richie replies, slapping his thighs as he stands.

eddie mumbles a word or two about richie being "as selfish as ever", and makes his way to mike also. beverly is a bit quiet, and bill chooses to sit beside her; his hands fall to his knees, rubbing them subconsciously.

"u-um, you didn't do a-anything wrong," he says, aware of the deep concentration beverly has. he can usually tell when everyone is upset or has something on their mind. "she's j-just been a l-little self conscious lately."

"please," beverly whispers, lifting her head to the sky, "i can tell she's been different around me. i must have said something to offend her. i should apologize—"

beverly pulls herself up, dusts off her legs, and is yanked down by bill's shaky hand.

"d-d-don't—" when the girl steadies, he continues, "let them b-b-be. if y-you really did s-something to h-hurt her, s-s-stanley will f-find out. trust him."

the greenery is exceedingly massive— miles and miles of towering woodland, filtering in streams of sunlight, rocky terrain around every trunk. you find yourself breathing heavily while seated on a boulder that is tucked away behind a ledge, facing the opposite way of the opening that your friends are at. elbows pressed into your knees, you put your face in your hands.

the air is tightening around your throat, and your uneven breaths become wheezes. you fist your hair in frustration, and smooth it down seconds after. this turns into a cycle, as you calm your wild nerves. fuck. are you allowed to think of her like that? you inhale deeply, the scent of soil filling your senses.

twigs crack in the distance, rapidly approaching feet obliterating the silence that has so graciously aided you in your toxic thoughts. you run your hands through your hair, and then fist a handful at the scalp. you smooth it out tenderly. when the footsteps are extremely close, slow down their pace, and stop entirely, you squeeze your eyes shut.

"go the fuck away, bill, i don't need your lect—" you bark, waving him away, but are cut off by long arms wrapping around your neck. your anxiety washes away, but you make no effort to embrace them in turn. your hands become fists, with no fabric of a shirt to grasp. you don't notice the tears racing down your face until your eyes and cheeks burn furiously, and your throat is caught up in sobs. when you peek, the sight of stanley's dusty curls in your peripheral sends waves of numbness and comfort over your skin.

your thoughts become hazy once you've lain your head against the bone of stanley's bare shoulder, and you feel a weight on your body lift from you— and transfer to him.

you swear you can hear faint whispering, voice cracked and vulnerable: "it's okay, it's okay, it's okay."

the part that leaves you aching for days in the future, is that you're not sure he was talking to you.

➳ i hope you liked it! it's a bit short but idc cuz i'm tired.

#it #the losers club #stephen king #it 2017 #stan uris #stanley uris #stanley uris x reader #losers club x reader #beverly marsh x reader #it fanfiction #stanley uris imagine #beverly marsh imagine #kassie writes #BW

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