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bangbangchanie · 3 years

Text

Maybe~Chan/ Changbin

Summary: When the love of your life died, falling again is paralyzing yet the person who's always been there makes it a maybe.

Paring: Reader x Chan(Past)/ Reader x Changbin

Warning: Character death, like angst really angst. Fluff

Word Count: 3.2K

AN: Admin Winnie here! Finally reposting this after removing a certain someone. Its the same sad story just with Changbin:)

Arms were tightly wrapped around your waist as your eyes stared at the scene in front of you. Red and blue lights flashing in the dark night sky as smoke and a blaring ringing sound echoes through your ears. You didn't realize you were screaming, screaming out his name as you saw his mangled car. Your knees buckled as the EMT who was holding you fell with you.

“Christopher!” You sobbed. His eyes were watching you from the scene, his body moving across the road.

“Baby, are you okay?” He asks as he reaches mid way as you cry his name again. “Baby, Y/n I’m right in front of yo-” he was cut off from talking and walking when someone walked through him. Your cries grew distant as he looked at his chest, his eyes wide as he looked back to the car. His bleeding body was being dragged from the car, as CEPR was being performed. It felt surreal, watching his limp body move with someone’s pushed against his chest. He brought out his thoughts when your cry turned into a scream of pain. His eyes met your crumbling body, he moved to you. His hand reaching out to only have it pass through your face making you curse.

“I’m here, baby, right in front of you. I swear I’m not leaving, not now, not ever.” He whispered tears trailing down his face as you finally stopped screaming his name and just cried. “I’m still here.”

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

“Chris..Chris was the life of the party even if there wasn’t one.” Minho said as he shook his head a small smile lifted up on his lips, though his smile was painfully matched with swollen red bloodshot eyes. His cheeks puffy as you stood in all black in your shared apartment. “He did this thing where if it was too quiet he’d just start singing a random ass song and dancing. You know? He..he always tried to find the light in the dullest things, and he always…he always made me feel..us feel like we were…are bigger than this.” His eyes tailored to your hunched body, your eyes dull as you give him a small smile, tears trailing down your face as his mother grips your hand. Her sobs wracked her body as Minho looked at the glass in his hand. “Y/n..Mr. and Mrs. Bang..Chris…god he was a special man. I am so thankful you two gave him a life and a voice..and Y/n thank you for making him smile when no one else could…this is for you brother.” Chris was next to you and his mother, his eyes tearing up as he watched Minho turn around and let out a small sob as he walked away. Changbin stepped up, his skin pasty and his eyes just as bloodshot.

“We met in the second grade..he was new and had this accent that kids liked to make fun of. But he never saw it as a set back, and took it as a complement…he..fuck.” Changbin stopped speaking as he wiped his eyes. “I..I was told a month ago that he was..was looking for a ring.” He paused, making you stop breathing for a split second as you leaned closer to his mother, your heart clenching as Changbin looked at you. “I was told to prepare a speech as best man, that who I was to Chris and who he was to me. He was..and still is my brother. A man I want to scream at because he left us. He left me. With a speech, and no event to give it at. I wanted to give it here, but I can’t because it hurts too much. I’m so sorry Y/n..” Changbin coughs as he steps away as you wipe at your face. You take a shaky breath as you stand. His brother is clinging to your hand as Chris watches you, moving to stand to your blank side.

“Thank you all for coming..I know..I know Chris would scream at us all for crying like this.” Your words made his mother choke back a cry as his father rubbed her shoulder. “He didn't like it when the people he loved were upset, or cried. He didn’t enjoy not know-knowing how to fix..fix it all.” You breathed out as you messed with your black dress. “He loved with his whole heart…we all know that. He did..he did this weird habit that I still don’t understand and I was with him for four years..but where’d he grab the bottom of his shirt and spread it out in front of him when he was in deep thought.” His mother chuckled as she shook her head.

“He stretched every single one of his school shirts.” She said, making the room lightly laugh as you look at Changbin and Minho who clang to each other, their trio now turning into a duo.

“We love you Chris..I love you.” You whisper as you sit back down, people now talking among one another as you swear you feel a wetness drop on your shoulder where his head hangs over as he tries to imagine his arms around you.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

“Honestly fuck you Christopher Bang!” You scratched at the broken picture frame. Your eyes were full of tears as you looked out the window. People living their lives, unknowingly passing the house of a broken girl that had black running down her face and it pissed you off that they didn’t know.

His scent was still wrapped around you, around the four walls of the apartment you shared together. His clothes still hung up in the clothes, and tossed outside of a drawer. His pillow at the end of the bed and his shoes resting against the front door wall.

“I hate you so much!” Your voice cracked as you fell to the hardwood ground. His large sweater falls over your hands as you bring your knees to your chest and sob into them. “Yo-you just left, n-no good-goodbye n-no an-anything.” You cried tears falling down as you rocked back and forth. The pain in your chest was breaking you down, shattering against any idea of love you had any future you planned together. You swear you heard his voice making you perk up and look around, the shuffling of his pillow made you stand up and wipe your cheeks. “Chris?” You whispered as you watched the bed dip.

“Y/n?” Changbin called out as he slowly set the key he had been given when you and Christopher had moved in. He was the security blanket for you two, always making sure you were sleeping, and eating. Killed the bug for the both of you, and watched the place as you traveled. “Oh Y/n.” He whispered seeing you down the hall in the bedroom. He walked down as you keep your eyes locked on the pillow, a dip in the bed that wasn’t there before. Your heart stopped as an arm wrapped around your middle, making you blink, and the dip in the bed was gone. “Come on, let me make you some hot chocolate.” He whispered against your hair as he pulled away and took your hand. His own body was covered in one of Christopher’s jackets. His body moved throughout the kitchen. “A month down.” He whispers, making you sigh as you let out another sob as your head falls.

“I-i miss him so fucking much.” You sob, making Changbin stop moving as he turns and looks at you. “Th-this isn't fair, we-we were gonna move into a house.” You whisper, making Changbin face you his mouth parted at the new information. “My love, my hero ,my everything was ripped for me…and it’s all his fault.” You sob, making Woojin jump into your body, his arm tightly wrapped around you as your body shakes.

“It's gonna be okay…it's gonna get easier..I think.”

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

“What the fuck did you do to our bed?!” You scream at Minho and Changbin who were standing in the living room talking.

“What do you mean? I mean I made it-ow!” Minho cried as you slapped him. Tears falling down your face as you glare at him.

“His pillow stays where it was, his blanket stays bunched up..I can't recreate it, because it won't be the damm same! You asshole!” You cry as you start to shake as Minho's eyes widen. Not realizing it hadn't made sense he last laid there.

“I did-didn't know.” Your body shook as Chan finally found a way to hug you without passing through you. His head nuzzles your neck making you cry harder.

“Im..I’m sorry.” You whisper, making Minho step forward and cup your cheek.

“It's okay.” Chris moves away and Minho and you share a group hug with Woojin.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

“Chris..I know this..this is weird.” You mumble as Chris sits next you on the bed, his hands reaching for your thigh as you let out a deep breath of air. “This is honestly crazy..but I just need you to know..what I said a few weeks ago..that it was your fault..it..it wasn't true..and when I screamed I hate you..it wasn't even close to the truth. Because…'cause you were..were the one and..I still need you here but you gone..and I took it personal…but death shouldn’t be personal.” You whisper, making him lightly smile as you take a deep breath. “I think..I think I’m gonna pack up some of your clothes.. give a few to your mom. They all smell like you.” You whisper as you reach for your phone and call up his mom for help.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

“Are you sure you're ready for this?” He asked as he watched you pack some of his shirts and pants for goodwill.

“Yeah..it's been nine months..I need to do this..it's not a lot..but..a start?” You mumble making Minho nod as he helps you empty one draw of his. “Okay..no more.”

“Progress.”

“Progress.” Giving each other a high five Chris chuckles as Minho misses making you laugh echo in return. Something Chris hasn’t heard in months.

Progress it was.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

“Binnie!” You laughed as Changbin spun you around your living room, his hand tickling your sides as Chris watched, a ping of jealousy hitting him. But he understood, watching you and his friends the past few months, the feeling for Changbin had grown for you and you him.

He wanted you two happy.

So he came up with a plan, his spirit moved through the walls as he grabbed your journal and opened up to your most recent entry. His eyes scan the words.

'I haven’t felt this way about someone since I first met Chris..and it feels wrong but so right at the same time. Changbin had made this feeling come up that I thought I’d never feel again. And it’s scary. I don't know if I can handle losing someone again.’

And then he knocks a picture frame down making a loud crash disrupt the two of you messing around. Changbin stood up straight as he placed you close to the couch and looked down the hall.

“Wait here."he mumbled walking into your bedroom, where he looked around till a picture frame that he glued together from the time you’d throw it across the room in a fit of anger, caught his eyes. It was a picture of Chris smiling, his eyes bright as your lips pressed against his cheek. It made Changbin smile as he saw the man he considered his brother, he hadn’t looked at a photo of him in a year, it felt good. It felt good seeing his face again, even if it would never be the same. It was still Christopher Bang smiling, and he swore he could hear the hum sound he made while you kissed his cheek.

As he moved it back where he remembered where he placed it after he fixed it. His eyes casted down and he saw your entry, and his heart began to speed up.

"She..she feels the same?” He whispered to himself, making Chris smile as he stood next to him and spoke.

“Of course she does, you make her happy.” Changbin jumped as he felt the vibrations of a voice he knew all too well in his head. “Can you hear me?” Chris said, making Changbin look around, and nod slightly.

“Bin? Is everything okay?” You ask walking into your room seeing the frame in his hand, his wide eyes stare at you.

“Uh..yeah.” he chokes as he runs his hand down his face. “Yeah..just this picture fell.” You humm as you move to stand next to him and stare at the two of you, tears gather in your eyes making Chris reach to wipe it away as he did so Changbin. He smiled at his friend as he watched the two of you stare at each other.

“Oh..shit.” you whisper seeing your entry that was open as you move fast to shut it. Already having an idea that he knew and now was ready to leave and never come back.“Did you..”

“Yeah. Yeah I did.”

“I think..I think you should go.” You whisper, making Changbin frown as he moves to rest and hand on your shoulder but you shrugged to get away from him. “Just..just leave..please.”

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

“Y/n, please call me back. We need to talk..please.” You listened to your voicemail again, Changbin pleas only made your heart break more.

“Dammit women, call him back!” Chris snaps as he watches you bite your lip. His favorite sweater wrapped around you, making his dead heart thud rapidly against his chest. Then his own voice travels through the air making his eyes widen. “Why do you do this to yourself, baby?”

“Hey baby, I just wanted to call to let you know I’ll be outside of the building waiting for you in five…I know I’m too late to change but I think my office attire will work for the date..I know you’ll look beautiful as usual..hence why you’re probably not answering me! But it's fine,I love you..I’ll see you in a bit.” You play another one, “Baby! Changbin just dropped off food, I swear he’d be a better boyfriend than me like how he is his single! Anyway I just wanted to call and say I love you, and have an amazing day at work!” As you went to play another you phone began to glitch due to Chris being the playfully smart ghost he is, and found a way to only play the part he wanted you to hear. “I love you, but it's fine you like Changbin.” It was choppy and wasn’t even a proper sentence but it made you throw your phone onto the bed as you stare at it. It played again, and again as Chris watched your eyes widen.

“Christopher Bang I swear if this you are coming to haunt my ass I’ll find a way to bring you back and kill you again!” You whisper, making him chuckle, your eyes snap to the empty spot in front of you, where he sat. “I..I finally broke didn’t I..cause I did..I did not just hear that laugh.” You whimper, making him frown as he looks at you. “I’ve missed that laugh.” You breathe out making him giggle, a smile lifting on your cheeks as your phone rings pulling you out of your thoughts.

Binnie is calling.

“Pick it up.” Chris said, making you roll your lip as you hear the very faint vibrations, like he was talking while you rested your head on his chest.

“Hello?” You answer by making Woojin let out a breath as he begins to speak but you cut him off. “I..I like you.”

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

“I haven’t been here since the funeral.” You whisper walking hand and hand with Changbin, followers and balloons in hand as Chris' family walks in front of you. It was his birthday today. You somehow had gotten through the first one, tears and snot but this one..this one was easier in a way. Chris trailed next to the two of you as he watched you closely, the twinkle in your eye was back, Changbin's smile was bigger than ever.

Soon you reached his tombstone, bending down your smile, “Hi baby.” You whisper as Chris sits next to his name, you sit on the grass as his family sits on the bench next to his grave. Changbin sits behind you, over the last few months Chris' family has fully supported you two with the love that was twining the two of you. You place the flowers next to his name and lean against Changbin. “Happy birthday weirdo.” You mumble, making Changbin laugh as Minho arrives, his body moving to sit next to the two of you as he hits a card in his hand. “What’s that Min?” You ask.

“I….just a letter to my brother.” Minho says, making you nod as he places it next to your flowers, Chris smiles at his friends and family.

“What do you think he's doing right now?”

“About to fight Changbin.” Minho says with a smile, making Chris' mother laugh as she shakes her head.

“Idiot.” Changbin said, hitting his shoulder as he laughed and nuzzled his face into your shoulder.

“I..I hope he’s happy wherever he is. I hope he is at peace and that…that he isn’t actually haunting me.” You laugh, making Chris follow as Changbin nods and Minho and his family giggle. “I mean he said, if he ever died he’d haunt me so I’m wondering if it’s happening.” You said wiping the tear that fell down your cheek.

“I wonder if he can finally sit in peace and enjoy the quiet sunsets.” Minho mumbles, making the three of you look at eachother and break out in laughter.

“As if.” Changbin laughs as you place your head into his collarbone.

“I just want him to be happy.”

“I am happy..I think..I think I can leave now.” Chris mumbles to himself, another Ghost at the tree waiting with a smile on his face, freckles covering his cheeks as his fringe falls over his eyes.“I..I can let go now. Baby..baby I ..I love you so much. I know you won't hear this, I know you won’t..but I just..I just love you so much. I’m so happy you’re happy. Thank you for the birthday wishes…I love you guys.” He stood up and walked to the tree, the unknown ghost smiled and clapped him on the back.

“Are you ready for the fun part kid?” He asks, making Chris look at him with wide eyes.

“Will..will I see them again?” His question made the unknown ghost chuckle as he laughed.

“Ah you kids, never truly know what’s out there for us…you’ll see them whenever they visit here. You’ll get like a ring in your head, and any gift they leave for you you’ll be able to pick up and keep it.”

“What’s your name?”

“Felix, died 1976, leukemia at 17….you?”

“Christopher…died in 2020, in a car crash at 23.”

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agoldengalaxy · 3 years

Text

deny, deny, deny

read on Ao3

5 times someone told Sam and Bucky they cared about each other, and the 1 time they showed it.

“You two bicker a lot,” Dr. Raynor says, eyeing the two men who sit, fuming, on the other side of her desk. “If you won’t speak to each other, then tell me this, instead. James, why would you ignore Sam’s texts?”

Bucky grumbles something under his breath. Sam seems genuinely curious to hear the answer. Raynor glares until Bucky sighs and repeats himself, staring at the floor. “Didn’t wanna bother ‘im.”

“What? I was the one texting you, Bucky! Why would I -”

“Just drop it, Sam.”

“…Fine.”

Folding her hands on her desk, Raynor sighs. She can’t be certain, but Bucky has been her client for a few months now, and she knows it takes a long time for him to tell the truth. In this case, however, she thinks the truth is there, as a small part of it. The way that the tips of his ears redden tell her that there must be more to it.

She isn’t blind. She has a feeling she might know that answer. So she leans forward a little. “Good. Thank you for that answer, James.” Her gaze slides to Sam, whose arms are crossed over his chest as he looks toward the wall. “How does that make you feel, Sam?”

He scoffs. “After everything I’ve done for him, he still -”

“You shouldn’t have given up the shield, Sam.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Gentlemen, please,” Raynor interrupts, feeling a headache coming on. She blows out a breath. “You’re both big boys now. You can handle this -“ she gestures vaguely, because she knows that they don’t quite understand yet, “- if you just talk to each other. Emotions are powerful things, you can’t ignore them forever.”

Bucky groans. Sam huffs.

They don’t get it. She’s not sure she wants to see them flounder, but she should put it out there, anyway. She leans forward. “Emotions including love, that you may have buried deep below.”

For a split second, she is met with stunned silence, before they both erupt, loudly. Denying, denying, denying, pushing the feelings down even deeper than they had been before despite the way that they fluster.

It’s okay, she tells herself. Deep breath in and out. They’ll accept it soon, someday.

Still, she shakes her head, effectively cutting them off. “No matter what kind of love it is, you care about each other. And that’s the bottom line. Once you cross it, things’ll be a whole lot easier.”

Sam looks at his lap, blinking. Bucky’s cheeks flush pink.

Raynor needs a drink.

“This is really easy for you, isn’t it? All that serum runnin’ through your veins.” John hates the man standing in front of him. Maybe, in another life, they could have been friends. But the stubbornness just pisses him off, so he goes for Bucky’s weakness. He knows Bucky can take being insulted, but there is one thing he won’t accept. “Barnes, your partner needs backup in there.”

He watches Bucky’s cold stare waver, if only for a moment. John takes that opportunity to stand his ground, glancing behind Bucky, to that open door he wants to go through so desperately. Karli is right there, and the only thing standing in his way now is Barnes, and his stupid loyalty to Sam.

Bucky thinks so highly of Sam, he doesn’t have any other choice but to use that one weakness.

So they lock eyes again. “I know you care about him. Do you really want his blood on your hands?”

Beside him, Lemar shifts his weight from one foot to the other as Bucky looks down for a split second. John knows what it’s like. He’d never leave Lemar behind, though he knows with Sam and Bucky, things are a little different. He can feel Zemo’s eyes boring into them now, clearly amused. They wait.

Bucky’s jaw is clenched, every inch of him now rigid. John knows the feeling, and knows perhaps it might have been unfair to put him in that position; he knows he would stop at nothing if it were his wife in that room. That’s almost the equivalent of what Bucky must have been thinking.

But the ends justify the means.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Bucky turns around, his shoulders still tight, and John exchanges a look with Lemar as he speaks. “You’re right. We should help him.”

John’s grip on the shield tightens. Lemar grins. “Maybe you should tell him how you feel,” he suggests as they start up the stairs.

Bucky ignores them both, readying for the fight.

“Super soldiers cannot be allowed to exist.”

“Isn’t that how gods talk?” Sam asks, cool and collected as ever. “And if that’s how you feel, then what about Bucky?”

Zemo carefully removes the ice pack from his forehead, weighing it in his hand as he sits up. He doesn’t know how to feel about Bucky just yet. For now, that question doesn’t have an answer. For now, Steve Rogers is the only exception, and he can’t imagine that changing anytime soon.

Still, he has to have some kind of fun, right?

So he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, tilting his head to get a better look at the man sitting at the table, and shrugs. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Sam blinks, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“Come now, Sam, I always thought you were an intelligent individual,” he replies, only slightly teasing. He does like Sam. He’s righteous, level-headed, and doesn’t make any stupid decisions. Except, perhaps, the person he might have chosen to love. “What do you think of James?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

Nodding, the other smiles and looks down, gathering his thoughts. “I think he’s annoyin’ as hell,” he answers slowly. “But...he’s passionate, smart, a big softie deep down...and he always does the right thing even though he’s hurting, too.” He pauses, then adds, “I still can’t tell if breakin’ you out of jail counts as the right thing, though.”

Zemo smirks, leaning back a little, tossing the ice pack from one hand to the other. “You know, when I first met my wife, she hated my guts.”

“Can’t say I blame her, Zemo.”

He chuckles, somewhat sadly, then continues. “These fights that you and James have, over the small things, they are nothing more than just couple’s quarrels.”

Sam’s eyes widen and he turns to look at him fully, as if he’s lost his mind. “What the hell are you talkin’ about? Bucky and I are just -”

“Just what, Sam?” Zemo tilts his head, as if challenging him. This is exactly the reaction he had been hoping for. It isn’t often the calm and collected Sam Wilson loses his cool, and Zemo likes to know he’s one of the ones who can get a rise out of him. “Friends, partners, all these terms you both throw around…” He thinks back to that look on Bucky’s face when John had challenged him, and his smile returns. “Perhaps you ought to think about what you truly want.”

And okay, maybe it isn’t just wanting to get a reaction from Sam. Maybe Zemo has seen the good in both of them, and thinks, perhaps, they ought to be happy, for once. His own partner is long gone, but it isn’t too late for Sam and Bucky.

Sam opens his mouth to respond, but he is cut off by the heavy sound of the door opening, and he immediately falls silent as Bucky walks in, with news that the Dora Milaje are after Zemo. Although Sam recovers quickly, staring at his laptop, Zemo side-eyes him, wondering if he might be blushing.

So Zemo stands up, shaking his head. How juvenile.

Sarah leans against the truck, wiping sweat from her forehead. It’s been hours, and she still can’t believe Sam has managed to pull off receiving this much help. She knows their parents did a lot of favors, but she never could have imagined it would pay off this much one day.

She’s already made up her mind. She can’t sell this boat. It means so much to her, and to Sam.

Her gaze drifts toward the dock, where Bucky is helping Sam carry some things to Carlos. She’s almost certain they’re bickering again, but as they walk, their shoulders almost touch. Sam smiles. It’s something she hadn’t realized she had missed so much.

Seeing her brother smile, and seeing the reason for that smile, is all the evidence she needs to agree to let Bucky crash on her couch. The sun is already dipping closer and closer to the horizon, and she knows people will begin returning home soon. Personally, she has to get the boys to bed. But she lets herself enjoy this moment as long as she can.

When Sam and Bucky place down their loads, Sarah whistles, getting their attention to wave Sam over. Bucky seems to think about following, but is soon distracted by AJ and Cass, excited to meet their uncle’s ‘cool friend.’ Sam chuckles as he tells them to behave, then makes his way over to his sister, a huge grin on his face.

“What’d I tell you? I knew we could make it work,” he says, spreading his hands. Just as confident as ever, she supposes. She rolls her eyes, but for some reason, she can’t stop smiling, and his grin fades a little. “What’re you lookin’ at me like that for?”

Sarah shakes her head. “Nothing. I just missed seeing you so happy,” she admits, because although they tease each other, although they bicker, she loves him. She has no trouble admitting she cares. Seeing the confusion on his face, she hops up to sit on the back of the truck, folding her hands in her lap. “You were gone. For a really long time. And that’s okay, I know what you had to do.” A pause. “When you came back all sad-puppy-dog in the rain that first night, my heart broke. I guess I’m just trying to say I’m glad my brother’s back.”

There’s another pause until Sam comes to sit beside her, so that their shoulders touch. He nods. “It’s been a rough couple years,” he murmurs, and she nods. It has been for both of them.

They gaze at the boys, who are excitedly coaxing Bucky to flex his metal arm, who has a confused look on his face as per usual. Sarah rests her head on Sam’s shoulder, just grateful to know she’s no longer so alone. And then she sits up, turning to face him.

“But enough of that sappy stuff,” she says. “Tell me about Bucky.”

He groans. “Don’t tell me his awful attempt at flirting was actually successful.”

“What?” Pulling a face, she shakes her head. “No, not that. Tell me about him. A guy that makes you smile that much is probably one worth keepin’ around.” She nudges his shoulder and he chuckles a little, his gaze returning to the man in question.

“You’re the second person who’s asked me about him recently.” He seems to collect his thoughts for a moment. “...He reminds me a lot of Riley, sometimes.”

Sarah nods, having expected something like that. “Is it the same?” Sam and Riley had always been close, but she had never seen them get physically close the way that Sam and Bucky did. Sam shakes his head.

“Some things are better. Some things are...more annoying.”

“It’s okay,” she assures, patting his shoulder as she slides off the truck to stand up. “In case you were wonderin’, I still know everything, and I also happen to know he feels exactly the same about you. He cares about you, and I know you care, too, so it’s up to you to do somethin’ with it.” She grins as a stunned look appears on his face, walking away before he can even think of something to reply with.

She hopes they can get their heads out of their asses and realize it. After all, having Bucky around could be pretty helpful.

“I’m sorry for how things ended down there.” A lie. “But for what it’s worth, suit looks good on you.”

Things had gotten dangerously close for Sharon. Too close. Luckily, though, Sam and Bucky haven’t found out the truth. If they had...well, she doesn’t want to think about what she would have to do if that were the case.

But here he is, their new Captain America, standing there in front of her with a soft chuckle and a slight nod. “Thanks.”

“All right, look, can we get out of here, please?” Bucky interjects, sounding...somewhat annoyed, for some reason. Her abdomen hurts terribly, but it’s not like she can’t handle a single gunshot wound. Still, standing around probably isn’t going to do her any good, so she nods and lets Bucky guide her.

They walk in silence for a little while until she looks at him. His gaze is fixed ahead, maybe lost in thought about something. Her eyes narrow a little. “What was that all about?”

“What was what all about?”

“I mean, you basically cut Sam off. Why’d you wanna leave so bad?” Her interest is peaked when she notices that, despite the fact that his expression barely changes, his ears redden.

Bucky clears his throat. “In case you forgot, you’re kind of bleeding out here, Sharon.”

She huffs. “I told you, I’m fine.” Watching him for a moment, she attempts to piece the puzzle together. His eyes hadn’t left Sam since he returned with Karli’s body. Back at her apartment, he’d seemed almost angry when she had complimented Sam without his shirt on. It dawns on her and she smirks. “Oh, don’t tell me you have a crush.”

His ears redden further. She guessed right.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I like you?” Deflecting the accusation and dissing her all in one go. She’s almost impressed.

“We both know I’m not talking about myself.” She grabs his arm, and they both stop walking. He won’t look her in the eye. “Hey, it’s okay, all right? Your secret’s safe with me.” Of course, unless he gets in her way. That’s a bridge she’ll cross if it comes to it. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s a great candidate for you.”

Bucky frowns, shaking his head a little. “...I don’t wanna talk about this.”

Sighing, she nods. “Of course you don’t. Look, you should just go for it. What do you have to lose?”

A flicker of pain flashes across his face. “Everything,” he mumbles, almost inaudibly.

“Sam wouldn’t leave you if he didn’t feel the same. You shouldn’t hide from him.” She winces, then, not quite sure why she’s giving him advice. If he knew the truth, he’d have left her to die. But she doesn’t dwell on that, feeling his hand on her arm to ground her, and they begin walking again.

Bucky doesn’t say anything else, and neither does Sharon. She might have gone down a different path a long time ago, but she still thinks they both deserve to be happy.

Unless, of course, they get in her way.

It’s late when Bucky comes to Sam’s door, knocking quietly before opening it to stand in the doorway, offering a beer out to him. “Fresh air?”

Sam accepts, and they walk outside together, footsteps sounding in tandem on the empty dock. A fresh sea breeze whips past, but not enough for either of them to get cold, the smell of salt filling their noses and the last couple cries of the seagulls before they settle in for the night.

They stop in front of the boat, admiring the work they had done on it together. Sam breaks the silence first. “Thanks for helpin’ out. With everything.”

Bucky looks at him and nods. “You’re welcome.” A pause. “It’s nice here, you know. Quiet. Nothing like New York.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yeah, I think it is.”

They gaze at each other for a moment before turning to their bottles. Silence is filled by the quiet crashing of waves in the distance. There’s a tension there that hadn’t been there before; an unspoken understanding of the situation.

Sam looks at Bucky, noticing the way the shadows under his eyes look a little lighter than they had been before. Bucky’s jaw is clenched, showcasing the stubble he’s been letting grow out, and Sam can’t help but think he looks princely.

And Bucky looks at Sam, at the way the moonlight so perfectly etches his features, his eyes bright as they stare back at him. He remembers the way Sam’s eyes crinkle when he smiles, how he reminds him of a sunshine that had pulled him from the deep, dark abyss he had been stuck in after Steve left.

They aren’t sure how long they’ve been standing there, quietly. Two words tear from Bucky’s throat, like he has no choice in the matter. “Sam, I…-”

Instead of answering, Sam steps closer, cupping one of Bucky’s cheeks, smashing their lips together. It’s rough but sweet. Sam tastes like vanilla. Bucky tastes like beer. And nothing has ever felt so right before.

Sam pulls away and chuckles. “I hope that was what you were gonna say.”

Bucky smiles, though his face is bright red, placing a hand on Sam’s hip to pull him closer. “Somethin’ like that. Want to say it again?”

“I like that idea.”

They suppose they can put the promise of ‘going their separate ways’ on hold for a little while.

#marvel #mcu #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #they're in love but stubborn your honor #anyways #everyone knew they were in love even before they admitted it ty #my writing #agoldengalaxy #my post

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theaviskullguy · 3 years

Text

Ink and Petals

@dapple-dualies-propaganda here's the au

Tattoo artist! Rider x Florist! Goggles

hope you enjoy!

---------

When was it not busy at Squid ink?

It was one of the top Tattoo Parlors in Inkopolis. and it was also on a pretty busy street. So, it got a lot of customers. Also the fact that one of the artists was a famous turfer.

Rider hadn't formerly retired, but he had eased out of playing Turf Wars. He had found other interests outside of the sport: Theater, art, reviewing old movies online... He still did Turf from time to time, albeit the adult league. He was too old for the more popular teen division.

So, he found a job as a tattoo artist. And he rather loved it. Not only did most of his friends consult him for tattoo advice (from where the best places are to good designs), but he also knew some gossip. One of his regulars had beef with her neighbor because he has a pet raccoon who keeps stealing her trash and Rider could NOT wait to hear more about this story.

Another thing was, well, Rider had seen some shit. From people covered head to toe in tats, to people eagerly wanting their first tattoo, even to shyer folk who wanted one to defy controlling parents or to mark something important.

None of that prepared Rider for the news he got when tattooing one of the customers. More specifically, Gloves.

You see, Gloves had been coming in for the past few days. They had wanted a pretty complicated butterfly tat, so for the last 3 days Rider has been exchanging stories with the resident enby about... pretty much anything.

This is how this exchange happened;

"So you remember Goggles, right?" Gloves asked.

Rider rolled his eyes. "What, you think I'd forget the guy who kept pulling down my pants?"

"Oh ha ha. Anyways, apparently he works at that flower shop now."

"...He what?"

"You heard me!" They said. "I went there yesterday to get something for a project and there was Goggles! He misses you, 'ya know!"

Rider was just. quiet. He hadn't talked to his crush in a while, contact dwindled when Rider stopped doing Turf as much. Never once did he think Goggles would miss him, but that was probably the self hatred talking.

"...I'll think about it." Was all Rider said.

The conversation continued like nothing happen; Gloves saying multiple cursed things and Rider sharing interesting stories he heard on his job. Time flew by and soon, the tattoo was done; a butterfly with the bi colors on one wing and the nb colors on the other. Rider was quite proud of it, and Gloves seemed to like it. They waved, and left the store, humming to themselves.

Rider looked at the clock. His shift ended in just a few minutes. He knew he had no other appointments that day, so he took to watching old recorded matches in his phone.

Those were over a decade ago. Yet he still remembered everything. His favorite part was still learning he won a match by such a small margin. It was just... amazing.

He sighed. Rider missed those battles. But he has to say, he missed his crush a bit more.

He clocked out, saying goodbye to the other employee-Cherry (business relationships were easy to maintain when your coworkers were your siblings), and headed towards the flower shop for more reasons than one.

Army had a performance the next day. And yeah, Rider knew it was romantic, but platonically giving your best friend flowers was always nice. Plus, he wanted an excuse to see Goggles again.

He looked into the shop-the blue inkling was nowhere to be seen, but then again neither was the front desk. So, Rider shrugged and stepped in.

The floral scent was strong, but not overwhelming. Plenty of blossoms lined the stands, along with tags of what the flowers were and what they meant.

Rider looked around, trying to remember which flowers Army liked again, when he heard a familiar, youthful voice.

"Hi! Need any help?"

The inkling turned around. Goggles had definitely changed since Rider last saw him; his tentacles were longer and in an actual bun, for once. His blue eyes still had that clarity, and he still had that goofy smile. Though he didn't seem to recognize Rider.

"Uhh... I'll be fine. I'm just trying to remember what flower my friend likes the most." He said, hoping his accent didn't give him away; there weren't many in Inkopolis with an Australian accent.

But, Goggles didn't seem to notice or care. "Oh, okay!"

Rider internally breathed a sigh of relief. That would have been awkward if Goggles recognized him.

He looked around the shop, before spotting a bouquet of lilies. He knew Army liked lilies. If they weren't his favorite flower, it'd be close enough.

Rider took a few of the bigger ones, and a few white roses for variety, and took them to the counter.

Goggles smiled. "This a special occasion?"

"Not exactly. Just, my friend's doing a performance for a musical and I wanted to get him something for it." Rider explained.

"What musical?" Gogs asked, arranging the flowers with a sheer, white ribbon tying them together.

"Hadestown. He got Eurydice."

"Oh! I went to go see it last night! Army's amazing at that role. He's your friend, right?"

Rider internally panicked, but calmed down after remembering he wasn't Army's only friend. "Yeah. We've been friends for a while now."

"Well, tell him I said hi!" He handed the bouquet to Rider. "On me, alright? It's for a friend anyways!"

Rider nodded. "Thanks, mate."

"You're welcome!"

------

A few weeks went by. Rider occasionally stopped at the flower shop and got flowers for...well, no real reason. He'd use them to add color to his house, or give them to friends. He just wanted an excuse to see Goggles.

He'd talked to the blue inkling a bit more, too. He'd gotten into the business since, well, he really liked flowers, and he wanted a job where he could just...relax! He still did Turf, of course, but the Adult league was more serious than the teen one, and he just wanted to have fun instead of be expected to take a game seriously.

He still didn't recognize Rider. The yellow-green inkling was a bit hurt by this, to be honest.

Though, it was a bit startling when Goggles actually walked into Rider's work. And Rider was assigned to give Goggles his first tattoo: A blue jay on his shoulder, taking off from a branch.

This time, it was Goggles' turn to ask questions as Rider worked.

"Sooo.... you've been coming into my shop for a while and I still don't know your name!" The blue inkling stated. "I mean, you can probably recognize me though!"

Rider shrugged. "Well, who can forget Goggles of the Idiot Blue team?"

Goggles giggled. "You do know me! I still don't know you!!"

"...I can assure you, we've met before that day I got Army flowers." Rider said.

"Ooh! Can I try and guess who you are?"

"Ehh, why not."

"Okay! Umm..." Goggles thought for a moment. "Clams facemask?"

Rider shook his head. "Nope."

"Inkfall?"

"Wrong."

"Eging Jr?"

"Not even close there."

"Stealth Goggles?"

"Getting closer, I'll give you that."

"....Rider?" Goggles asked.

Rider chuckled. "Took you long enough, idiot."

Goggles smiled wide. "I finally found you! Hi Riri!"

"Hey, Gogs. It's been a while."

"Yeah! I'm a bit surprised I didn't recognize you, since we were pretty close!" Goggles stated.

Rider shrugged. "Well, I'm not the most memorable person anyways."

"Riderrrrr don't say that!" Goggles said. "You're still really popular!"

"To some people, maybe. Not everyone."

There was a tense silence, other than the hum of the tattoo needle as it made the drawing.

"....So." Goggles started again. "How's life?"

"It's...well, better than it was." Rider said. "Got my own place, for one. Though it gets a bit lonely.. You?"

"I'm still living in an apartment. I really want a roommate!" Goggles proclaimed. "Maybe we could move in together?"

"..I'll think about it, Gogs. Though it might be fun being your roommate."

"Really? Thanks Rider!" Goggled smiled.

The conversation grew more casual. Rider enjoyed it; turns out Goggles had his fair share of gossip. It was kinda cool.

And as the next few days passed, Rider looked forward to each of those sessions. His crush seemed to go from "this person would be fun to date i think" to "hOLY MOTHER OF THE GODS IM IN L O V E", and it didn't help that during those meetings, Goggles had to be shirtless.

The days turned into weeks and months. Goggles moved in with Rider, and the two became incredibly close friends.

And, it came to a head near valentines day. Goggles' shop was very busy, as expected. Luckily, Squid Ink wasn't as much.

So, on his day off, just before Valentines, Rider headed to the flower shop and got a bouquet of roses. Cliché to confess on Valentines day, Rider knew, but he's a pining gay cut him some slack.

And Rider came home right as Goggles was leaving for his shift. So, that left Rider with a good 3 hours to practice his confession.

"Alright, Rider. This has to be CASUAL. 'Hey, I've liked you for over a decade but just now had the confidence to confess!' No, too creepy sounding. 'Yo, Gogs. I really like you and maybe we could go out to dinner sometimes?' ...Too casual."

....Yeah, this went on for a while.

Rider groaned, collapsing his his bed. "I wish feelings were fucking easier...I should just call Army."

So, he grabbed his phone and selected the contact, Veronica Sawyer Kinnie

"C'mon, Army... pick up."

And not one ring later, "Rider, what is it?"

"...I need romantic help. Please." Rider asked.

"Look, just because I'm married to Aloha, doesn't mean I know how I ended up here."

"Yeah, I kinda know that." He stated. "Still. I really need some help."

Army sighed. "Who is it? It's totally that one person with the raccoon story-"

"Actually, no. It's, um.... It's Goggles."

The octoling on the other end of the line could be heard sighing. "Still a morosexual I see."

"OI! You're the one who married a fuckin himbo!"

".....Touché. Still, there's a difference."

Rider huffed. "Just... give me some advice. I wanna confess to him tomorrow but I've got no idea how. I'm giving him roses, but like, there's gotta be something more I could do, y'know?"

"Have you tried asking Prince?" Army suggested. "He is the one with the obsession with rom coms and romance novels."

"This is his exam period, Army. I'm not about to potentially interrupt a cram session by asking for romantic advice!"

"Fair enough. I'd say...well, just rip off the band aid. Like... 'Hey, Goggles, I really like you and was wondering if you'd like to be my boyfriend.'"

"...Thanks, Arm. I'll, uh, give it a try."

-------

Rider couldn't sleep that well. Mainly out of anticipation.

He was gonna confess to his crush of...over a decade, at least. He didn't fuckin know what was gonna happen!

Like, would Goggles reciprocate? Would he hate Rider after it? WHAT THE FUCK WOULD HAPPEN-

He sighed. He needed to get his mind off this shit.

Rider looked over to his bedside clock: 5AM. 5 hours before his shift. 5 hours to get his shit together and plan for confessing to the world's cutest but also dumbest man later that night.

C'mon, Rider. Think. Army said to rip it off like a band aid, but Goggles might find that a little sudden and out of the blue. He could write a letter and leave it for Goggles when he went to his shift (The flower shop was closed on Valentines day). That would be a safe option.

Rider sat up, and got out a piece of paper and pencil, writing a note.

"Hey, Goggles.

There's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while. I really, really like you. As in, a crush.

I totally get it if you don't like me back, or think I'm weird, but hey, I was wondering if you'd wanna go out to dinner or something. Probably not tonight cause of Valentine's day but maybe tomorrow night or something.

-Rider"

Quickly, he folded it and wrote Goggles' name, putting a little heart sticker on it. It was corny, but hey, Rider had to use up those stickers somehow.

Rider attached it to the roses, and kept it on his desk.

And so, the morning went as normal. He had breakfast, got out of his pjs, put his hair up... the usual.

But as Rider left to go to work, he left the note and rose on the table, and left the house quickly.

During the day, he nearly forgotten all about it; He caught up with the gossip-Apparently the neighbor with the raccoon and the regular were now dating. So that was a nice little end to the story.

Squid Ink wasn't AS busy-probably because it was Valentines day, people were spending it with their lovers, not getting inked up (unless they made the appointment when single)

And it was near the end of Rider's shift when he heard his name mentioned. Probably someone making an appointment before he heard the familiar voice of Goggles going "Okay!!"

The blue inkling walked over to his station. "Hi Ridey!!"

"...Hey, Gogs. Getting another tat?" Rider asked, trying to keep his cool.

Goggles nodded. "Yeah!!!"

"A'ight anything specific in mind or-"

"Can I get just a simple quote one?"

Rider nodded. "Where do you want it?"

Goggles pulled down the collar of his shirt slightly. "Right here, please!"

"Okay. Just try to keep holding that down so I don't mess up.

-----

And so, tattoo conversations ensued.

The quote Goggles had wanted was a simple Pride one, that said "love is love". It was discreet, but a bit of it could be seen poking out if Goggles ever wore a v-neck.

"So, any plans for tonight?" Rider asked, trying to keep things subtle. Maybe Goggles hadn't read the note yet.

The blue inkling nodded. "Kinda! I had mental plans buuuuut nothing serious."

Rider raised an eyebrow. "Who with?"

"..I m-mean, I still have to ask him.." Goggles' face turned a shade of blue, and he averted his gaze.

"....Can I guess who he is?"

"If ya can!"

He smiled. "Does his name have an R in it?" Rider had a guess it was himself, but it wouldn't hurt to check.

Goggles nodded. "Yeah!"

"Got an accent?"

"Yep!!"

"Is he doing your tattoo?"

"....y-yeah?" Goggles sheepishly smiled. "I'm n-not that discreet, am I?"

Rider chuckled, but on the inside he was screeching. "Honestly? I had no clue myself."

"Really? I've been dropping the most obvious hints!"

"...Like what?" Rider asked, now a bit curious.

"Welllll I've been picking movies you like during movie night, I've made sure to get your drink on coffee runs, Oh! And I offered to cook dinner that one time!" Goggles stated.

"...Damn. I'm just oblivious then." The former dynamo user laughed, before turning off the needle. "There. It's all done." Rider held up a mirror for the blue boy.

Goggles' face lit up. "Whoa! It looks amazing!!! Thanks Riri!"

Rider smiled. "You're welcome. Now, uh, ...did you read my note?"

"..Y-yeah, I did. And, um...I like you too Rider!!" The blue man pressed a small, quick kiss to Rider's cheek.

Rider blushed. "S-so, you'll let me t-take you out?"

Goggles nodded. "Yeah!!!"

"I...thanks, Gogs."

"You're welcome Riri!!!"

----------

aAAAAA RUSHED END

but like. hope yall enjoy!

#Galax Writes #tattoo artist x florist #splatoon #coroika #coroika rider #coroika goggles #goggles x rider

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captaingondor · 2 years

Note

2-4 for Seyetto, 8 & 19 & 26 for Rinnyx, 8-9 & 11-12 for Tavina, and 14-15 & 20 & 24 for Aderin, please?

Thank you for the questions!

Seyetto

2. How old are you? How do you feel about that?

I am twenty-three. I feel good about that. I believe I have accomplished a good amount for my age. Not that I intend to stop at that, mind.

3. What food are you craving right now?

Right now? (He considers for a moment) Black coffee.

4. What is your dream home like?

I have never wanted to live anywhere other than than where I do, which to be fair is a palace. I wouldn't change a thing. I mean, I have updated some of the decor since becoming emperor, but that's just surface level.

Rinnyx

8. What's something you'd like to learn how to do?

I'm working on learning Leskan now. Really, I would like learn to speak every language, in the whole world. All of them.

19. If you could say one thing to everyone in the world what would it be?

I would say - (He pauses) I need to consider the exact phrasing. Because the message I would want to say is to... to be good to each other. Be kind. Listen to other people, and be understanding. But I'd want to form it as a Word so that everyone would have to listen. Not - not to force them to do anything! I wouldn't be dominating their minds, just... you know... persuading.

26. What's a talent you have that you're proud of?

I think I'm pretty good at talking to people, and getting them to talk back. And I can imitate accents pretty well! That's fun.

(Author's note: he is perhaps the most talented magic user alive. Mentioning his skill im magic for this question did not occur to him.)

Tavina

8. What's something you'd like to learn how to do?

I'd like to learn some of the latest dances out of Ruveld. Or maybe to play another instrument. I could probably improve on what I know already first, though, I spend more time on drawing and sewing than music but I do want to be well rounded and accomplished. Or I'd like to learn how to make Seyetto listen. I know it's possible for him to act like a normal person, Rinnyx does it.

9. What's a nice compliment you've received?

Rinnyx has told me I am unforgettable.

11. If you could turn into any animal, what would it be?

I would like to turn into a bird. Flying would he fun. Probably some type of cute songbird!

12. What's a pet peeve of yours?

There's nothing more annoying than when the hem of my dress gets wet. And it starts clinging.

Aderin

14. What's your best memory?

The first time I got my article printed in the paper.

15. What's your favorite thing to wear?

My blue jacket. It can make even my plainest dress feel nice. And blue makes me feel happy.

20. Describe your dream date.

Long walk somewhere outside, with a picnic, or else finish up at a little cafe. Talking about everything and nothing.

24. What would you do with 3 wishes?

I would want Alefor to be free and able to stand on her own, without anyone trying to take her again. Is that one wish or two? Well I'll call it one. I'd wish I could always be back home again whenever I wished. I like traveling, but I do miss home (and it would make it easier to get articles back quickly instead of having to mail things out, such a hassle. Maybe I ought to wish to move between anywhere instantly, not just back to home.) For number three, I don't know, world peace? I suppose you ought to wish for world peace when you can.

#red and gray #my ocs #seyetto #rinnyx #tavina #aderin

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sokkabeifong · 3 years

Note

Can you write some tokka angst 🙏

ofc I can anon and IM SORRY THIS IS SO LATE but better late than never I guess. this is set in modern times because modern times are fun to write for tokka okay? a bit longer than usual but the more angst the better am I right

Toph had promised Sokka that she’d go to the hospital when it happened, so that’s exactly what she’d done. She hadn’t promised that she’d actually get anyone’s attention. Or check in. Or ask for help.

Although… the contractions were getting more insistent, and she doubted the medical staff would leave her alone if she stripped off the stupid maternity pants and just squatted down right there on the lobby floor.

With a heavy sigh, she waddled her way over to the nearest front desk. Spirits, she hadn’t been in a hospital in years. She wasn’t even sure what the different branches and buildings and desks were all for. But there was no way that she was giving birth at home. Katara was in medical school, sure, but she wasn’t done. And Toph wasn’t about to risk her life and her child’s life for a “practice trial.”

Still, there was something unnerving about the hospital, with its stuffy feeling and too-squeaky floor. It feels clean, clean in a way that you can just sense. She didn’t need sight to tell her just how antibacterial this place was.

A pinging, traitorous part of her wishes that someone was here with her, that she didn’t have to do this alone. But it was her own stupid pride that had taken a cab all alone in a Wednesday night, and the only person she truly wanted present was somewhere she could never get him back from. She’d promised him before he died that she would go to the hospital if she felt even the slightest change. He wanted her to be safe, he said.

And now, of course, Sokka was dead and gone while she was here, swollen belly stretching out her sweater and maternity pants. As much of an annoyance as labor would be, getting the thing out of her was going to be a blessing. She’d spent too long unbalanced and vulnerable to attack.

“Can I help you?”

Toph was broken out of her musings by the question from someone sitting at the closest desk. She turned her head to where she hoped the person, a woman by the sound of it, would be.

“I hope so,” she smiled, falling back into a generic cover ID face. “I should probably see a doctor.”

“All right,” said the woman. She heard the clicking of nails on a keyboard, then something sliding across the desk. “Why don’t you take one of these forms, fill it out, and bring it back here?”

“Can’t ,” she said shortly. “I’m blind.”

“No worries.” The woman clicked her pen open like she had blind pregnant ladies come into the ER every day. Who knew - maybe she did. “I’ll ask you the questions and you answer, okay?”

“Okay.” Toph winced as another contraction hit her. At least the protruding baby bump gave her something to lean against. She made sure to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth as the woman began questioning her, just as Katara had instructed her to do. I’m a few hours, the whole thing would be over and then - she bit her lip and redirected her thoughts.

She wished Sokka was -

She redirected that thought, too.

“Reason for your visit?” the woman asked, yapping the pen against the clipboard.

Toph waited a moment before she turned around yet again, because she was in the middle of another contraction and couldn’t decide whether she’d rather scream or just go ahead and kill the lady.

“My contractions are about eight minutes apart,” she said.

The lady blinked once and then repeated, “They’re eight minutes apart from each other? So you’re in labor. Are you in active labor?”

Toph smiled sweetly. “Are you asking me to stick my fingers down and see whether or not I’m dilated to seven centimeters?”

To the woman's credit, the crudity didn't seem to faze her, and she plowed ahead with, “Ma’am, this is the ER. We’re not equipped for a birth. I’ll call you a wheelchair immediately, and we’ll get you up to Labor and Delivery. Trust me, it’ll be faster than checking in here and waiting for a transfer.”

“Where’s Labor and Delivery?”

“Fourth floor, and I -”

“I’ll just walk over there. It’s fine.”

“Ma’am, I really must insist. You’ve technically checked in—” she waved the yellow paper “—and you’re our responsibility now.”

Toph leaned heavily against the counter and deftly snatched the page out of the woman’s hand. At least her coordination was still functional.

“There. Now I didn’t check in, and I’m my own problem.”

“Ma’am, please. You’re in no condition to go wandering the hospital, whether you take that against your pregnancy or your eyesight. Let me just call someone to wheel you over.”

Luckily for the woman, another contraction rendered her unable to give a snappy retort. She waited for it to pass, quietly, quickly, then faced the lady once more.

“Fine,” she said tightly. “Fine. Fine.”

“Thank you,” the lady said, obviously relieved. Apparently she did not deal with stubborn blind pregnant women on the daily.

By the time she had been put in a wheelchair and taken through the long halls and winding corridors to Labor and Delivery, Toph had managed to calm herself down. Not because the situation was in any way calming, but because she’d stressed her body and mind out enough that she’d fallen into full-blown mission mode.

Which was fine. It’d probably be easier to give birth with that attitude.

“Well, you seem pretty together, Toph,” the nurse gushed as she checked in yet again at the front desk. “We’ll get you back as soon as possible. For now, if you can just take a seat in one of those chairs, and listen for your name.”

Toph let her real self fade into the background, giving over control to the five other women sitting in the waiting room, and promptly closed her eyes. If she was going to be in pain, she might as well rest while she could.

The calm blind girl out in the lobby was already a topic of discussion.

It wasn’t completely unheard of for someone to come in alone. Life was weird and sometimes people gave birth without anyone they knew to help them through the experience. But this girl? The calm young girl with ebony in her hair and in her eyes wasn’t any of the typical stories. She was clean and put together. She was calm and young and looked like the kind of person who would have a dozen friends by her side, even if the father of the child was no longer in the picture.

And yet, there she sat. First in the waiting room and then in her hospital room.

Alone.

Moreover, Miss Toph Beifong had claimed on her paperwork that her contractions were now five minutes apart. However, she was sitting too calmly for that. In fact, the nurse had sat with phone in hand and timed out more than ten minutes, and the girl hadn’t moved once. She’d sat there calmly. No wincing, no cursing, no crying.

It wasn’t until the nurse pulled the woman back and got down to take a look that anyone believe the claim at all.

"Shit,” the nurse murmured.

The doctor startled and glanced up to see if Toph had been offended by the curse. Fortunately, the girl seemed more concerned with how many fingers she had, and didn’t seem to have heard.

“What?” the doctormurmured, more quietly.

“Her cervix is nine centimeters,” the nurse answered.

“Shit,” the doctor echoed.

By the end of it all, Toph had decided she did not like labor. She’d made that decision before she began crowning, and nothing that followed did anything to change that. While she had experienced worse pain in her life, she had never experienced that kind of pain.

She had once spent four straight hours being absolutely crushed by a girl at the gym and, at the peak of labor, she was pretty sure she’d trade out that experience for her current one.

Nevertheless, she didn’t scream. She screwed up her eyes and doubled her body up and flexed her fingers. Tears leaked from her eyes from the sheer stress of it all. But her lips remained tightly closed. The skin around them grew white from where she bit them between her teeth, and the nurses were afraid she’d draw blood.

One well-intentioned nurse had advised that she just give in and cry out.

Toph had rolled her eyes, widened her legs, and pushed again.

In the end, nature was inevitable. Toph had always had someone to remind her to take good care of her body, so the whole experience was over in a few hours. She collapsed back against the wet bedding. There was sweat and blood and who-knew-what all over her, and she’d probably never feel clean again.

There was screaming in the background, and her eyes finally focused on the small infant being washed by the hospital staff.

Then her view was cut off by the ring of congratulating nurses.

“It’s a beautiful girl. Do you have the name ready for her?”

“Call it Toph, for all I fucking care,” Toph murmured, too quietly for anyone to make out. She turned over on her side, away from the child, and shut her eyes tight.

Later that night, after hours of tossing and turning in her sleep, Toph was awoken by the small mewing sound coming from her bedside. She sighed. She’d tried to have the baby whisked away to some far-off nursery where she wouldn’t have to ignore its presence, but apparently the hospital didn’t “do that anymore.”

Spirits, she felt so empty. Tired and empty and drained.

Deciding she could avoid it no further, Toph feels her way to the other side of the bed. The hospital is quiet, and she can’t even guess what time it is. Probably late at night. She waddled over to the bassinet, and the mewing became a full-fledged scream.

She jumped. The baby continued screaming, but less so, as if it hadn’t realized anyone was there. She found herself reaching down, feeling the child, the blankets, so afraid she would drop it or break it or… worse. For a moment she hesitated.

This is your baby, she thinks. You’re allowed to pick it up. It’s yours. And his. You can pick it up.

Her. She could almost hear Sokka’s voice echo through the room, reminding her that their child wasn’t an it. The thought made her smile.

Slowly, carefully, as though her life depended on it, Toph lowered her arms around the tiny, tiny baby and lifted her up. The baby stopped bawling and snuggled against her mother’s chest.

“Hello,” she said stupidly, like the kid could respond. But her mouth kept moving. “Um. Uh, my name’s Toph. I’m your - Spirits, I guess I’m your mom now, huh?”

The baby gurgled, her lips curled like she might cry again. Toph hurried to keep talking.

“Oh, God, um. What else, what else… uh, you have a bunch of aunts and uncles,” she said. “They’re all gonna help raise you. They’re annoying sometimes, but they mean well. You’re our first baby, you know.”

Our. The word made Toph close her eyes for a second. Try as she might, there would be no more “our.” There was only “she.” The “our” in her partnership was long gone. How was she supposed to tell her child that?

She decided to start with the basics.

“Your daddy was so brave,” she whispered. It hurt to talk about Sokka in the past tense, but she kept going. “He was so, so strong and brave and I just know he would have loved to meet you. He already loved you, you know. He wanted to meet you so bad, kid. He just never got the chance.”

The baby blinked, her eyelids heavy like hearing about the father she would never meet was too much for one night. Toph wholeheartedly agreed and set her down in the bassinet once more, making sure she was secure before plodding back to her own bed and face-planting on the blankets.

The nurse had told her the baby’s eyes were blue. She let that thought sink into her heart before drifting off to sleep.

#atla #tokka #avatar the last airbender #sokka #toph #toph beifong

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bloopferheart · 4 years

Text

Sk8ti theories!!

Spoilers for all the current episode of sk8 (up to episode 6)

- also sorry if this all over the place lmao

so i have many theories but i wanna talk about the one that im most leaning towards! so personally what i think is going to happen is that reki and langa are going to fall in love, they both fall in love with each other and i think there is going to be hinted canon romance??? i dunno they will DEFINITELY have a deeper bond than they currently are at. we can see that each episode they are getting closer and closer, langa is smiling more and they are starting to become more "touchy-feely" with each other (*coughs* the latest blessing of an episode we had, ep6, the beach episode <3). we can also see that they love each in the translation of the end credits the lines. "i like what ive always liked", "lets keep feelings", "lets keep your heart" , "let's go together" ,"you are always in my heart" - (fuckin sobs kakjdsh). i see the end credits as a convo between langa and reki so these are things that *both* of them are saying. so, yes, i think it will be requited love....at first. (fuck here comes the angst)

time to talk about fucking ad*m,,,,so what i think is that adam is going to draw langa away from reki and sort of influence him into the world of reckless skating. langa is so drawn to adam that he starts to skate more dangerously and adapt the same ways of skating that adam does. becuase of his, he starts to drift away from reki. reki usually skates by the rules and doesnt cheat, or at least he doesnt go as far as adam does. reki is always ready to try new things but he defientley isnt as reckless as langa will end up being. reki will start to feel as though he is falling more and more behind langa until langai so caught up in reckless skating that he is just gone. reki realizes its too late and that langa is too far ahead he cant keep up (just like in the intro when reki falls and when langa doesnt turn around to look back at him and how langa dissapears).

so, besides reki falling behind langa, how will this *directly* affect reki? well i defientley think that reki has some trauma surrounding adam considering how he fucking screamed langas name and had a nightmare about adam,,,like,,,,idk :( but continuing on, i think that langa is going to make a very dangerous bet, like a life threatning bet that impacts reki. and i think that langa *finally* realizes his mistakes when its too late. so, this is where my theory starts to go 2 ways.

1) reki will,,,*takes a deep breath* dies. what if langa makes such a dangerous bet and adams influence is too much that he accidnetly kills reki? BUT tbh this is one of my theories that i dont actually lean a lot towards. the next one is what i actually think is more likely to happen based on the ending credits,

2) reki *will* get hurt, but emotionally not physically (or maybe physically but i dont think so). he will see that langa is never coming back to him (or at least he thinks that) and decides to just leave him. its at this time that langa realizes "fuck ive gone too far" but its too late too chase after reki because reki already tried chasing after him and langa just ignored him. reki and langa will then drift apart although as they spend time apart they realize how much they need and miss each. what gives me this impression is when the end credits say:

"we are grown up now, can be honest i will remember tightly tied shoe laces, lets make it , my favourite colour, its infinte, i like what ive always liked" this whole phrase reminds me of how anga talks about how he still thinks of the times when he and reki would skate *for fun* together, and not for the thrill/adrenaline rush.

"i like what ive always liked' implied hes always liked reki and despite drifting apart, he still does love him. his love for reki is infinite.(and rekis love for him is infinite)

"lets talk silly stories be with you forever i want to smile by your side" implied that langa (who i assume this verse is in the pov of) still wants to be with reki and regrets the choices hes made. "lets go together, go with you" he still wants to go with reki, he still wants to skate with him.

"even if tomorrow this world ends, i dont need anything special at the same pace as usual lets just be who we are. yes, "now" is so beautiful" so lets disect the first part of that, i think that by this langa or reki (i dont quite know who, i think langa tho) is thinking that all he wants is just go back to all the days (at the same pace as usual) and just go at the nice easy-going pace they were at.

a very big indictor of langa realizing he sitll loves reki is the line "lets go togehter, go with you *not only in happy times*" i think that langa is saying that despite reki being upset and feeling behind, langa does in fact wish he had been by his side and he wants to be there for reki.

"at any time, be by your side", "lets go together", "as long as we have that feeling", "i am here by your side", "you are always in my heart" literally is so gay like guys cmon, langa deifnetley still loves him

so what happens next? langa now realizes he *does* love reki and that adam is a big piece of shit but reki is gone (reki still loves him and thinks about him tho: as seen in line “youre always in my heart” i believe this is said by both of them)

so, in conclusion my favourite theory is that at the very end of sk8 reiki and langa will sort of have individual shots and then they will run into each other in the street, both carying skateboards. langa will reach out to reki to "catch him" or something idk SOMETHING WILL HAPPEN WITH HANDS AND WE WONT SEE FACES AT FIRST and then the shot is their faces and they look at each other and just smile! I THINK IT WOULD BE SUCH A GOOD ENDING AND I THINK IT WOULD FIT THE END SO WELL YA KNOW??? SO yeah!!!! thats my fav theory!!

i do have one more i just wanted to touch up on tho :eyes:

HANDS!!! OMG HANDS R SO IMPORTNAT IN THIS SHOW MY GOSH. and as each episode goes on we can see they are getting closer and closer with their hands. it starts off ith taking off the water bottle, and bandaging each other hands, then the hand shake, the hand shake TO THE CHEST, and then as seen in episode 6, the hug, and finally langa reaching out to save reki and pulling him close. i have a feeling as the episodes go on they are gonna get more "touchy-feeling" and what if langa or reki like touches the others face or brushes hair out their face? like what if,,,,reki forgot his headband or cant find it and he leands over to fix his skateboard or something and langa just brushes the hair out of his eyes? or what if one of them puts their hand on each others cheeks and kisses them? IDK GUYS I HAVE A STRONG FEELING WE ARE GONNA GET A BIT OF ROMANCE- But uh yeah

I have a tone of angsty theories involving adam but i deinfetley think we are going to get a bittersweet ending,,,,

I'll probaby upload more theories later on but these are them so akjdhsa yeah! my dms are open for sk8ti discussion and if u want my discord (which is easier to commuicate on for me) then just dm me!)

#renga #reki #langa #reki sk8 #langa sk8 #sk8 #sk8ti #sk8 the infinity #sobs #*sobs uncontrollably*#MY POOR BABIES I DONT WANT ANYTHING TO HAPPEN TO THEM BUT THE DIRECTOR IS THE SAME AS BANANA FISH SO WE R IN DANGER-

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anythingandeverything1d · 4 years

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Congratulations

“(y/n)” the nurse called out from the door. You stood up and walked over with an anxious smile. She handed you a clip board of medical information that you needed to update and then said she would grab you once it was completed and turned into the desk. You sat back down in the waiting room and flipped through the pages. Ugh I wish my mom was here...am I allergic to anything? I mean I don't think so but maybe Im just unaware of it..I don't remember having surgery-well my tonsils were removed but does that count? You were filling out the page to the best of your ability when your phone buzzed. You looked down and saw his name flash across the screen before immediately ignoring the call. You rushed to finish the paperwork and handed it in as the nurse came back. “Ready?” she asked.

“Yeah.” you followed her down the hall where she took your height and weight before escorting you into the room. You hopped onto the chair and anxiously tapped your foot as she checked your temperature, blood pressure, and oxygen levels. After finishing up she sat on the stool and smiled.

“So, what are we here for today?”

“Uh...” you looked at your feet and shifted in the chair. “I think I may be pregnant.”

She smiled and nodded, “when was your last period?”

“My period tends to be irregular but the last one I had recored was around two months ago.”

“Okay, were you on any kind of birth controls, or using any type of contraceptives?”

“I was on a birth control, am on a birth control but I missed a few days while I was on vacation which is when I believe this all happened.”

“Okay. Have you had any symptoms other than your missed period?”

“No, not really.”

“Okay. Have you taken any pregnancy tests at home?”

You nodded, your brain flashing back to that day.

*Tears were flooding down your cheeks as he grabbed his last hoodie from your closet. All you wanted was for life to stop. You wanted him to say its okay, to make a change in the relationship, to stay. You sat on the bed crying as he walked out the door for the last time, taking with him every once of happiness you had. You ran to the bathroom, physically sick from the situation. It wasnt until you were hunched over the toilet that you realized the box of tampons had gone unopened. Missing periods was normal for you, they had never been regular. There was a slight doubt in your mind though. You had never missed a period more than once, so the fact that you were going on two means something was wrong. You had been under a lot of stress though, the distance, the lying, the excuses, all of it. Wiping the snot running from your nose, you had gotten up, washed your face, and thrown on sweatpants and a sweatshirt. You had mustered the courage to drive all the way to the drug store, purchase three pregnancy tests, and drive home. You had gotten three, you wanted to be sure. You wanted to be positive before making any other decisions. You sat on the bathroom floor after peeing in a cup and dipped each end, turning them over so you couldn't see the lines. You set a timer on your phone and closed your eyes. The only thing that could've possibly made this situation better was having him here. Of course he was gone already but you could still dream right? When the alarm on your phone went off you anxiously flipped them all over. Picking the first up and squinting you saw the dreaded double lines. Picking the second one up: dreaded double lines. And the third: PREGNANT in bold. You dropped them all on the counter and threw your phone. Of course, of course this this happens. He leaves and I end up pregnant with his baby..just like the movies except he won't be coming back. The rest of the day had been a blur. You had kind of just ignored the fact that there were three positive pregnancy tests in the bathroom. When your friend Luke had come over, you had cried into his arms. Cried about him leaving, about the break up, and finally about being pregnant. “(y/n) if you have positive pregnancy tests you need to call him.”

“No. I can't do that. Im not doing that.”

“(y/n)...hes the father, he deserves to know.”

“I may not even be pregnant though..they come up wrong all the time.”

“Not this wrong though.. this seems pretty sure.”

“I mean I've been stressed lately maybe its just a hormone thing.”

“I think you should go to the doctor and check. And if you are then you need to ball up and tell him. Seriously he needs to know”

You had nodded and cried some more before Luke left. Then you had called your doctor and made an appointment.*

Now here you were answering questions about your sex life and body. The nurse handed you a cup and showed you where the bathroom was. She said the test would take only around ten minutes but that she would be coming back to the room to do a blood test as well. Great, what a fun day... You quickly peed in the cup, leaving it on the counter for the nurse and wandered back to the room you had been assigned. Your hands were sweating and you felt dizzy. Having your blood drawn was probably your least favorite thing. In fact, you fainted almost every time. You checked your phone and thought about texting him...instead you texted Luke and told him how terrible the doctor was and that you were going to die while having your blood drawn. His only response was “lol” and you rolled your eyes. Typical guy.. The nurse came back in with a smile and sat down. “Well it does look like you are in fact pregnant so congratulations! We want to do a pelvic exam and ultra sound today just to see where everything is at and then have you come back for a blood draw in the future.”

“Thanks.” you smiled and relief flooded your face. At least you didnt have to have your blood drawn today. On the other hand, you were pregnant, which was a whole other nightmare in its own. Not that you hadn't wanted and dreamed of having kids. You just thought it would be under different circumstances and that you would be married.

“Im going to leave this gown here if you just want to change real quick we can do an ultrasound and hopefully see where the little baby is at.” She left for a minute and you quickly changed, your warm body freezing against the chair. When she came back in, she had an ultrasound machine on wheels. She started with the pelvic exam, lightly pressing all around your pelvic region. Satisfied she got out a tube of gel. “This is going to be cold at first.” You had nodded and watched as the clear gel squirted out and the ultrasound machine rubbed against your skin. You watched the screen as she moved it around looking for the baby. After what felt like months, she found a small white dot looking blob and smiled. “There it is...looks like you are measuring around 2 months right now which makes sense to when you thought everything happened.” She looked at you and smiled. “I know it can be a lot to take in..I’m guessing this is your first?”

“Yeah...its just a lot I guess.”

“It is, but it gets easier. Want to hear the baby’s heartbeat?”

You smiled and nodded. She pressed a button and you heard soft thumps. Tears slipped out of the corner of your eye and you wiped them away. “Thats pretty cool.”

She smiled and nodded before handing you a towel. “You are all set to go, we will have the pictures at the desk where you can make your next appointment. It was nice meeting you (y/n) good luck on your pregnancy and congratulations again.” You smiled and thanked her before climbing back into your clothes. 2 months pregnant...theres a living being in there...my baby...mine and Harry’s baby...oh god, what am I going to tell Harry? At the desk you scheduled another appointment and the receptionist handed you a picture saying congratulations. You looked at the little pea shaped blob inside you and grinned. Thats mine...thats inside me.

Luke surprised you by standing at your car door with an ice cream sundae. “Soo did you faint? did you die? did you live?”

You laughed, “Yeah I lived. I didnt have my blood drawn at all actually.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” You took the sundae from him and smiled taking a bite, the hot fudge melting in your mouth.

“Because of this.” you waved the picture in your hand and he grabbed it his mouth dropping.

“Is that what I think it is? Do you have an alien growing inside you?”

“Lukeee seriously”

He laughed and looked into your eyes. “Okay okay but wow, a baby. That’s amazing. How are you feeling about it?”

“I feel like it hasn't sunk in yet....but that I’m really happy. I mean Ive always wanted a baby...why not do it now? I don't need a man in my life. Im a strong and independent woman.”

“That you are, but don't worry you will have me too. Im going to be a great uncle, its the best job anyways. But uh- are you going to tell Harry?”

You shrugged your shoulders and continued eating. “(y/n)...it is his baby right?”

You rolled your eyes and nodded. “It cant be anyone else's.”

“So then you're going to tell him.”

“Idontknow” you mumbled, your mouth full of ice cream.

“You have to..you know he would want to know.”

“Theres a lot I wanted to know and he didn't tell me so I’m not sure yet. I haven't decided anything.”

“Okay...” he gave in and hugged you. “I’m happy for you I really am.”

You hugged him back and smiled. “Thanks. I’m glad you're here...I’m glad I have someone to go through this with. And I’m so so glad you brought ice cream.”

“It’s okay. What are friends for right?” You nodded and jumped in the car after saying goodbye. You didn’t quite know who to call yet so you decided to just enjoy some time with yourself. You did the only logical thing you could think of after finding out that there was a baby inside you: you went shopping. You picked a local baby store and walked in, looking at all the onesies, furniture, blankets, binkies, and bears.

“Hi! Anything I can help you find today?”

“No, thank you I’m just looking.”

“Okay well we are having a two for one deal on onesies and bibs so make sure to check those out.”

“I will thank you.” you smiled at the girl working but she kept looking back at you.

“Are you (y/n)...the girl dating Harry Styles?” she asked shyly.

“I was dating him, not anymore actually.” She nodded and gave you the look, you know the one of pity and sorrow? You went back to shopping looking at all of the little outfits, there were so many choices. You also had no idea if you were having a boy or a girl..something told you it was a boy but obviously you had no clue whatsoever. You decided on a cute grey onesie with little animals on it...gender neutral. You also grabbed a cute binkie that had a stuffed bear attached to it.

“These are super cute.” the girl said while checking out. “There's a whole collection that goes with this if youre interested.”

“No, that's okay this is enough for now?”

She nodded and wrapped the stuff in a bag. “So how far along are you?”

“Not very far, only a few months.”

“Well congrats! I hope everything goes smoothly and I hope to see you back here soon for more stuff.”

You smiled and nodded. “I for sure will be back.”

You drove home, your phone blowing up the entire way with twitter notifications, instagram tags, and more. Inside you scrolled through it, only to find pictures of you shopping for the baby clothes. Your name attached to headlines stating you were expecting but not far along. Great...this is not what I need...how do they even know.... you were scrolling through more twitter notifications. Harry’s name was now being brought into this. Another daddy in One Direction? Harry Styles Expecting? ugh...this literally cannot be happening.. and then everything got worse.. Harry’s name and photo popped up on your screen as he called. “Harry?” you answered anxiously.

---

Part 1 of my new series, hope you all enjoy! Goal is to have another part posted tonight or tomorrow! This is kind of just an intro to the story, I’m hoping to have them be a little longer but let me know what you all would rather: longer and less stories (may take more time to upload) or shorter and more stories (updated a little faster)

Let me know what you think so far and what you think will happen.

xoxo

#one direction #one direction fanfiction #directioners #one direction imagines #Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harrystyles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines

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moonchildstyles · 4 years

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In a quarantined world how are ur babies doing? I imagine vampire H and his Y/n hidden away in Italy drinking lots of wine, while Aster missed his baby so much he made her quarantine with him after a week without seeing her. And maybe he’s a bit stressed because he had to close the shop for a while but at least she’s home with him. But doesn’t let her do any of the grocery shopping at all. Oh and they probably miss their Chinese food lol

ive been thinking about what each of them would be like in quarantine ever since I went on lockdown back in like march so im SOOOOOO HAPPY SOMEONE ASKED !!!!!! I have...so many thoughts

ill put them under the cut bc....I couldn't stop typing ushufhs

so for aster,,,,,,, I think h would have had to close down the shop before the stay at home order even hit so he would already be in quarantine mode by the time she was transferred into online classes. I think maybe they would have spent those few weeks right before the stay at home order apart, her at her aprt and h at his house bc they really didn’t think it was going to be anything too intense until ofc harry started to realize what was going on and how the shop was going to be closed for longer than he thought I think he would have brought up quarantining together at his house bc he couldn’t imagine not seeing her for so long since he had missed her so much anyway just those couple of weeks. he would have helped her move some of her things in with him and all of her things for the last couple weeks of class and everything she needed to stay w him!! but he would def be stressed and worried about the shop and her safety but her being there with him would have made it a little easier for him bc no matter what at least they were together and he knew she was going to be okay and he would try his best to make her feel better bc she would def be nervous and anxious with everything going on and he would have to extra take care of her then but he wouldn't mind at all!! he def wouldn’t let her do any grocery shopping he would let her help him make the list of what they needed but she wouldnt be allowed to go since he wouldnt want her to be exposed at all even if it was by accident and he would make sure he was safe just so he could go home and cuddle with her w/o worrying!! they would get to test out living together too and being around one another and sooooooo much time spent in the kitchen cooking together and they would pick up little hobbies together and h would try his best to teach her to draw like him and she would try her best to teach him how to cook and everything it would be very domestic !!! oh they def would miss the Chinese food but she would be able to convince him to order some delivery a couple of times and he wouldn’t be able to say no🥺

for citrine I feel like they would quarantine at her apart ! he would def bring dandelion with him and y/n’s roommate would quarantine with her boyfriend giving them a little more space and stuff!! it would be hard for h at first not being at home for so long and not being with all of his plants and nature but they would def take trips up there and check on things and for harry to tend to his garden at least once a week but they would spend majority of their time at her apart and since she wouldn’t be working for a few weeks they would be spending like all of their time together with harry teaching her about all of his witchy stuff and he’d teach her how to cook all of the things he learned to make over his time in the forest and just lots and lots of softness and cuddling and kissing and harry would literally be so happy !!!!!🥺

and for vampire I think they would have had a bit of a crisis ghshush bc he literally cannot fathom the idea of her getting sick and passing away like he just got over the idea of her having a cold so he can’t even imagine what it would be like have her get seriously sick and what his existence would turn into if something bad happened so when he first heard they would immediately go into quarantine and she would probs fight him on it a little just bc she would like to go to work and still like....be a little normal but he wouldn't be able to stomach the idea so they would eventually work out just staying at the manor for a while and her taking time off from work and he would spend all of his time making sure she was in the best health possible and things he could do to help her and how to prevent her from getting sick and all and then when it got more serious I think he would want to travel with her telling her that he wants her to be somewhere beautiful if they’re going to be there for so long and they would decide on his Italy home!!! he would be working on his cooking anyway bc he wants to provide for her so it would be A LOT of meals and lots of cooking and lots of taste testing for her and ofc lots of nice wine that he picked for her even though she felt like half of it was way too sour for her but he would always try even harder to find something she liked and omg allllll of the painting !!!!!! they would return to the manor with so many new canvases of her that he painted and all of these landscapes and then the little ones that she painted that were much more.....amateur ghishfs but he would love them and insist they keep some in Italy and hang up and others he would want to have at home and he would try to teacher all of the old techniques he knew and she would try but..she had more fun just painting however she wanted and he would have more fun watching her do that instead ! and I think they would talk alot like it would be a good time for harry to really start opening up about his past since he was so soft and open around her anyway and now they get to spend all their time together and so many bites and just !!! he would be so happy and even though it was a scary time for her he would make sure she never even realized what was happening outside of their home and make every minute as stress free and happy as he could !!🥺

#anon #ask #concept #and if anyone from patreon was wondering about athens h #yes they quarantine together and they try to learn how to make ice cream and they would read all the time together and h would be writing #all the time #ALSO !!!!! MY FICS ARE ALL OBVI PERFECT WORLDS SO IN THOSE WORLDS #THEY DONT HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT THE VIRUS AND THEY DONT HAVE TO QAUARTINE THIS IS JUST A FUN LITTLE IDEA

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munamania · 4 years

Text

the promise (ch. 1)

a/n: hi yes i wrote for the clown gays like a year ago and im deciding to post this now sjdghfg pls be kind

pair: richie tozier/eddie kaspbrak

word count: 8.5k

warnings: swearing, blood ment, homophobic slurs, abuse mentions, psychological trickery, richie’s parents start out a lil absent but they get better i promise

excerpt: “You’re gonna miss curfew, Rich,” Eddie mumbles, leaning out the window on his elbows. And Richie hears it: you’re alone, you know what could happen. Stay safe.

“I’m not afraid, Eds.” He means it. Richie can’t draw up what fear even feels like right then. With a flick of an eyebrow, he nods toward the door. “Mother is waiting.”

“I know.”

read on ao3

No, it’s not that Richie is gay. It’s not like he daydreams about taking it up the ass all fucking day.

Henry Bowers and his dipshit crew might have a different opinion, but they can honestly, truly suck his dick (in the non-homo way - he has taste). The fact that they took joy in throwing him and his friends around, calling them names, and threatening their whole lives never mattered before; the losers took care of each other, and most of the time it was easy to forget about those other assholes.

Being called four-eyes when he needed glasses in the second grade never got to him that bad - they were saving him from having to see their ugly faces when they knocked them off, so really, he should have thanked them - and he didn’t care when they shoved him around for being short before his growth spurt, and it didn’t even bother him that much when they mocked his totally refined voices. He knew his own talent, and what he could do with it if he could just focus.

But the first time they singled him out as the fag of the group, well, it stung.

He never told the others about that day. He never told them how long he cried, how broken he felt sobbing on that park bench. He never worked up the nerve to tell them why he couldn’t face Paul Bunyan anymore, no, he simply breezed past without lifting his eyes, without missing a beat of conversation.

At least it got easier with time.

All things considered, his home life isn’t terrible.

Richie has his own room, a roof, and usually a decently-stocked fridge. Enough to get by.

He’s left alone a lot. His parents are always at work, and when they’re not, they take on the personalities of monotonous robots sitting in front of the TV, so he spends a lot of time skimming through comics or jacking off when he’s not running around with his friends.

But, that’s just the thing. Somehow, Richie, life of every conversation, King of Comedy, Trashmouth, funny-man Tozier, was born to the most boring people of all time. They never engage with his jokes; on a good day, he receives a breezy, “That’s nice, sweetie,” from his mom, or, “Okay, that’s enough, son,” from his dad. Blank stares. Pasty, purple-tinted white eyes. Never a hug, never much past a ‘goodnight.’ Not even a simple, “How was school?” when they got home.

Richie vividly remembers the day that he bounced in his seat at the end-of-the-year ceremony at school, a bustling bundle of nerves prepared to brag and boast to his parents about his awards in science and, surprisingly (his teacher hated him) English - he took to the dramatics of Shakespeare quite well. He practiced his entrance to them several times over in his head, perhaps overly, unconvincingly modest or Shakespeare wants what I have. Anything to get a laugh. A ruffle of his hair from his dad. A forehead kiss from his mom, like when he was little.

They didn’t show. He still doesn’t know where he went wrong.

In a stark, bubbling contrast to his parents, there’s this kid in his group of friends. He remembers one of the first times they met, the boy approaching him, all sweet apple-cheeked and neat polo and ironed khaki shorts; Richie had flicked an eyebrow upward, a not-so-subtle really?, because he never figured that clean-freak Eddie Kaspbrak would be able to handle more than three seconds in Trashmouth Tozier’s presence.

But boy, was he a lot of fun.

Eddie was loud and super easily wound-up, screaming about fucking UTIs and do not fucking push me man all the piss on the walls of this city could fill the lake and despite his good-boy appearance, he shot back with just as much fire as Richie threw at him.

And fuck, Richie loves it. He loves the ease with which they bounce back and forth. He loves the fury in the boy’s eyes when Richie pisses him off, the laughter that always comes about between them once they settle. The crossing arms and pouting Eddie, who he theorizes secretly loves it when Richie calls him pet names (not that he’d ever admit it); the loud and greatly-gesticulating Eddie who yells louder and pushes harder when Richie coos at him; the one who quietly accepts Richie’s affection, and offers it back in subtle ways: simply holding Richie’s arm when he slings his arms around Eddie’s neck from behind, allowing him to sit next to him thigh-to-thigh, and overall not completely cringing and pushing him off. He took it as a compliment, though they’d never mention it out loud.

On an unfortunate night, his comfortable little world comes crashing down.

His parents are out for some sort of conference weekend trip or whatever, and they’ve called in his deadbeat uncle to ‘watch over the house.’ Not necessarily him (probably because he isn’t home that much), but the house obviously can’t stand up by itself—and, well, maybe they didn’t trust Richie to not accidentally leave the door open, or leave the stove on, or some other stupidly irresponsible little thing. So, the crusty old guy shows up with his greasy, oiled hair and his lack of deodorant and his wilting knees. It makes Richie miss Eddie so, so much when they part, because a.) he smells a lot better, and b.) it would be fucking hilarious for him to see what Richie has to put up with. Like, he’s really not the most rodent-like of his family.

Anyway, Richie doesn’t remember what he says. Something slightly instigative, about the lack of any gourmet-level food in the house (he claimed calmly while wasting away on microwave tater tots and bread, even though his parents had left behind plenty of money to keep him alive), and then suddenly hands were on him.

It stings like a bitch.

His uncle gets up, with a quiet mumble that Richie makes out to be, “Well, let’s see…” and when he finally gets in the kitchen, facing Richie with eyes rung red and shaking fists, he grabs his nephew by a fistful of t-shirt and shoves him against the counter.

At that moment, he really wants his mom. Why the fuck did she and dad leave him with this guy?

“I don’t see you fucking working, or doing much of anything around here, kiddo.”

“Funny, I was gonna say the same to you.”

A blow to his mouth. Richie resists the urge to lift trembling fingers to the spot that he can feel swelling.

“Don’t talk to me like that, asshole! You think you’re so fucking funny, huh?” His uncle drags him forward and shoves him back with conviction, and this time Richie doesn’t answer.

He should have known to stay quiet when he saw his uncle drinking and smoking incessantly in the house, even though his mother had requested that he stay outside for that. It must have been a rough day at the bar, or wherever the fuck he spent his time.

“You need to learn when to be quiet, dipshit. Have some fucking respect.”

For the guy who ignored him for years, didn’t stay in touch, and wasted his existence away on the couch.

Right.

But Richie is snapped from his indignant, grounding thoughts when his uncle lowers his voice. “Do I make myself clear?”

Richie frowns in his face, utterly confused from the swell of attention, still limply holding a bag of bread in his left hand.

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes sir.”

The wretched man makes a point to push him into the corner of the cupboards with such a force that he collapses to his knees and can just feel the bruises forming. And he sits there for a minute, all sorts of betrayal and anger and sadness suffocating him.

But he stands up.

And with stinging eyes, a stuffy nose, and shaking hands, he makes himself a simple peanut butter sandwich.

And he stays upstairs for the remainder of the night

It’s a warm, soothing day outside; the sun glows and birds are chirping like some kind of fucking cartoon. In the tall grass the losers sit in frogs croak and crickets chirp and they make a mess of themselves in the circle they form.

“Damn, Rich, what happened to you?” comes Stan’s voice, concerned eyes flashing down to his now royally fucked-up mouth.

“Yeah, dude, what the fuck?” says Bev through a sandwich, truly a charmer.

Richie grins at Bev but answers to Stan, ignoring the sting in the corner of his lips. “Guess I’m a fighter at heart.”

“Richie—“

Bev chimes in once again, a bright, snarky grin on her face, “Richie, you can tell us if it was another accident, we won’t judge. Promise.”

Bev has a way about her; he knows she’s not genuinely the largest, most gaping asshole on earth, and that she actually cared a lot and cried over her friends in the darkest nights, but she also knew how to make light of something dark (even the worst). She probably knew. She probably just had his back in her own funny way, like taking the pressure off the reality.

“Bev, I’ve really, truly, always appreciated your charm, but as my dearest favorite person on earth, fuck off.”

“Richie,” Bill says, then hesitates. In that time, Bev flips Richie the bird, which he answers with an air kiss. “What really h-ah-happened?” He looks him over with a frown, clear blue eyes swallowing him in concern and maybe love.

Richie offers a simple smirk before settling against the trunk of a tree. “Don’t worry about it, Billiam. I’ve got it under control.”

“Whatever you say,” Bev says. She tosses a baggie over to him with his favorite sandwich.

Stan isn’t so easily convinced, eyeing Richie up carefully, but he sits with Bev on the boulder she’s settled on when Richie doesn’t falter in his casual disposition.

It takes a lot of work, as always.

Ben shows up moments later, with a calm and tender, “You alright, Rich?” and when Richie goes off on a stupid tough-guy spiel, he simply lays at the foot of the boulder and flicks open a book, meeting Richie with one of his melting smiles, a gentle invitation, a sweet If you ever need it, I’m there, but allowing him the space to go on as normal. Which is nice.

Richie knows they all care. He knows he could tell them, could pour all of the terror and tragedy he felt the night before into the air and they’d fill up the space; Mike would give him the tightest hug in the world, one to combat the most heinous of things; Stan would sit with him as long as he needed it, Bev would come through with a smoke and the best advice in the world, and Ben would tell him stories or just hang out with him until everything felt a bit lighter, and Bill would give him anything in the world because Richie would do it back. That’s the way they were.

But he can’t do it.

“Sorry I’m late guys,” comes a nasally voice, huffing and puffing, new pressure leaning against the tree, and Richie grins. Eddie.

“It’s okay, Eds,” he says, reaching over a few fingers to tickle Eddie’s knee, giggling when the boy smacks at his hand and doubles over with an exclamatory, Richie!

The others offer a few sleepy greetings, all soaked up in their own forms of entertainment for the quiet afternoon: Bev and Ben, heads close enough to share his walkman; Stan, reading some lengthy oath to birds or something; Mike snoozing lightly on Bill’s shoulder while Bill pores over some adventure map from a fantasy novel.

They had all agreed that it was too tiresome to go swimming today, as the previous night was spent out at Stan’s with a bonfire, and for a few of them, some stolen booze (not very much, but enough that they could pretend to be drunk and giggle profusely). But they still wanted to hang out, so this was the middle ground. An afternoon picnic in the shade.

Eddie quickly notices his lip and drops down to his side. “Richie, what happened to you? Was it Bowers again? I swear to god, I will fucking kill that guy--”

Richie smiles softly at the protective words, and tries to turn it into a smirk. “Eddie, baby, don’t worry,” he says. “It’s just a little bump.”

Surprisingly, Eddie sidles up next to him, using the pad of his thumb to press at the sides of Richie’s mouth, apparently assessing some sort of damage. “Don’t call me that.” He scowls. “What did you do? Did you ice it? Clean this cut at all? Cause you could get an infection, you know, you really should clean it.”

Richie bats his eyes. “Clean it for me, sweets?”

“Fuck off. Forget I cared.”

“Ah, come on, Spaghettio. I didn’t mean it.” He pulls Eddie down with a simple gesture, pressing his palm to the boy’s shoulder and dragging. The boy rests against the trunk, nestled in Richie’s side.

But that’s the complicated thing. He sorta wishes he could mean it. In a small, poking-at-the-back-of-his-head-always kind of way.

“Just—tell me what happened,” Eddie pipes up quietly from his side.

When Richie glances down, he takes to heart how disgruntled Eddie still looks, crossing his arms and almost pouting.

He shrugs. “Your mother was simply affronted by how good I am with my mouth, Eds, she couldn’t take it anymore.”

Eddie presses his mouth into a line, rolls his eyes at the stupid British voice Richie had developed, and busies himself with a thrilling edition of The Lancet

Later, as dusk settles in and pale purple skies replace the bright blue, and the club leaves with simple ‘goodbye’s and promises to do something fun tomorrow, Eddie shifts from his nap. He’d passed out with his head slammed back against Richie’s arm (he’d caught it just before he fell to the ground, avoiding a lengthy rant about potential concussions and medical bills), curled in the opposite direction from Richie’s abdomen. As he wakes, through, he rolls over, elbow digging into Richie’s side.

“Ah-ow,” Richie groans, sitting up from his cataconic state of reading Ben’s stolen comics and avoiding moving and waking Eddie. But he’d just dug the pointiest part of his entire firecracker body into Richie’s ribs, where Richie had attempted and failed to nurse a bruise he’d accrued from a vicious cupboard corner. It was at an awkward angle, and he refused to go down to get more ice packs once they melted, so he slept unsoundly and laid uncomfortably.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles, voice muddled with sleep. “Shit, it’s late. When did I fall asleep? My mom’s gonna kill me.”

Even in that gurgly, world upside-down state of post-nap consciousness, the boy freaks out about his mother. Richie sighs and rubs his shoulder.

“You’re all good, Eddie boy,” he attempts for a creaky, witchy voice, but it’s half-assed because he gets so tired of this lady. Not Eddie ranting, that was fine, and he knew the kid needed to get it out of his system; but he was fucking tired of Mrs. K hurting his boy. “You took your meds on time, fell asleep shortly after. Might need to amputate my arm now, though.”

His boy.

Eddie sits up, and Richie stares at his back, illuminated in the dusk, because he wore a fun yellow today, resting prettily against his tanned, freckled skin.

(Maybe Richie had looked over, amused, for a few moments, as Eddie snored and twitched his nose in his sleep; and he counted the freckles on Eddie’s arm, his cheek, whatever he could see for entertainment.)

Eddie glances back at him, and Richie distracts himself with his bag, shifting his eyes awkwardly from the boy’s gaze.

“Well, well, good sir, shall I walk you home on this fine night?”

Eddie’s brow furrows. “Richie, what’s that?”

His eyes are trained intently on the aforementioned bruise, and its cousins that pepper his hips, only exposed because he slipped and let his shirt ride up when he bent over.

He clears his throat, scrambling for some dumbass answer, wholeheartedly unprepared for the severity of this conversation. “You know how the ladies throw themselves—“

“Okay, you know what, fine.” Eddie stands quickly, stumbling slightly, and braces himself against the tree. “You don't have to fucking tell me. Just come home with me, okay?”

“A night with Eddie Kaspbrak? Why, you’re really a dream-come-true kind of guy.”

“Your lip is bleeding again,” he responds simply, apparently not one for fun at this very moment. “I can clean it.”

Richie pops up from the ground, feeling quite pip pip, tally ho about the whole thing. “Righty-o, Eddie boy.

That’s how he ends up sitting on the edge of Eddie’s porcelain-white bathtub, dirtying it with his messy jeans and dirt-coated nails.

It takes a lot of strategic planning, lots of sneaking past Mrs. K, and then sweet-talking and kisses from Eddie once she wakes up freaking out about how late he was. But, after about fifteen minutes of contest-worthy screeching from the woman, Eddie stomps up the stairs, slams the door with a very I’m gonna pull my hair out look, and has to take about three extra minutes to compose himself, ranting under his breath.

Richie just stares at his distorted reflection in the shining silvery faucet, the violet under his eyes and the renewed puffiness of his lip, Hawaiian pattern of his shirt disheveled in the odd mirror.

He knows not to engage unless Eddie actually speaks up to him, meaning this run-in was probably just overly grating and mentally draining, considering, well, how his mother is. He just needs a second to get it out, not any kind of heartfelt talk (which Richie sucks at anyway) or even a lighthearted joke. The boy paces and growls into a fist. Then, eventually, he breathes, “Okay.”

Eighteen minutes. Eighteen minutes of sitting around and waiting for Eddie, just for him to kneel in front of Richie, doe eyes clear and focused, dabbing so, so gently at his battered lip.

In a way, it’s heaven.

“I take it your mom can’t wait for me to buy dinner, eh?”

Eddie sighs. “Apparently this time I’m gonna contract malaria, Rich, didn’t you know? There’s an incredible outbreak this time of year and I’m obviously not prepared to avoid fucking mosquitoes, what with my fifteen bottles of bug spray and essential oils. I’ll probably die tomorrow!”

“I will make sure that your funeral is a fucking rager dude, don’t you worry. Booze on me.”

A ghost of a smile.

“Richie…” he breathes out in a long winded way, saying nothing and everything for way too long. “Why don’t you stay here tonight?”

Richie raises an eyebrow. “Man, I thought you were gonna back out on your previous offer, but I guess the call for a night with Richie Tozier is too much to back away from. I get it.” He smiles painfully at the way Eddie’s face crumples with something like boredom. “Christ, dude, what’s your poison?” He makes a face at the antiseptic substance that trickles into his mouth.

“Maybe if you kept your mouth shut for once, this wouldn’t be an issue.”

Richie beams, which just causes Eddie to huff even more.

“Please, just stay still!

“It was my uncle,” Richie finally says, forcing a bored expression onto his face as he flips through a rather dull magazine, sprawled on Eddie’s bed. “And it wasn’t a big deal.”

Panic flashes across Eddie’s face. His cheeks burn red, and his leg jitters anxiously against Richie’s, but his voice remains level, which Richie thanks dear lordy Jesus for. “Your uncle? He hit you?”

“Well,” Richie pauses. “Uh, kinda. He was just really drunk, Eds, and he got mad and I was in the way.”

“In the way?”

He shrugs, a small smile quirking his lip up. “Am I not usually?”

“Rich.” Eddie’s voice is really soft in that moment, gentler and quieter than anything Richie has heard from him in all the time he’s known his fellow loudmouth. It simultaneously terrifies and thrills him. Eds. Eddie brings his knees to his chest, leaning back against the headboard. “You say a lot of dumb shit, but that doesn’t mean you should be hurt.” He must notice Richie’s uncomfortable look, because he adds lightly, “Most of the time, anyway.”

“Woah, Eddie, don’t go overboard with the kindness or anything--”

“Damn it, Richie.” He casts his eyes downward. “I’m just trying to say - um - thanks for telling me. Sorry if that’s fucked up to say, but I know you didn’t want to, so, yeah. We don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

Richie swallows deeply with a slow nod, focusing his eyes on the blurry words in front of him. “Well, if there’s anyone I’d tell, it’s Dr. K. He’s gonna be the one to save my life, right?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Right.” He kicks at Richie’s foot, a subtle way of telling him to move over so he can get under the covers.

“Night, toots.”

“Goodnight, Richie.

Richie thinks he knows everything possible about Eddie thus far.

He knows when he needs to take his meds, an internal clock he recently developed; he knows that the boy is not nearly as fragile as he sometimes seems, and if he really tried, he could pack a punch; he knows that he loves fervently and he’ll always take care of his friends, even if it’s in a way that would usually disgust him.

Case in point: he didn’t seem to freak out at Richie’s bleeding lip, even when a steady stream of blood started dripping down his chin from the contact of trying to clean it out, though he usually cringed if he got so much as a scratch from a twig. Somehow, some way, he simply held pressure on the wound and told Richie to hold some ice on it (“Ordering me around now, hot stuff? I can work with that,”), and washed his own hands thoroughly in the sink.

What he doesn’t know until that night, is that Eddie is a cuddler. At least, half-asleep, groggy Eddie is. Like, this kid must be more starved for affection than he is. Richie had curled himself in a ball toward the edge of the mattress, willing himself not to do so much as even press his back against Eddie’s, way too afraid of the ease with which two people can tangle themselves together in the night, terrified of what would happen if he woke up with Eddie’s hands on him, wrapped up in Eddie, Eddie’s terrible morning breath against his cheek, Eddie Eddie Eddie. But while Richie had stressed himself into falling halfway off the bed, Eddie had flopped over in his sleep, slung an arm across Richie’s waist and, seeming to sense that he had something to hold, pulled him in tight to his chest. Though Richie’s breath caught in his throat, he figured, well, no one could really see them then, so what was the harm in passing out like that? No one had to know. He could pass it off like he’d been sleeping the whole time.

But he cherishes every fucking minute of it

Richie wakes to the sound of something pounding, a steady beat, and in that state of slowly waking from a dream he thinks it’s some old drum, playing lowly in the corner by some restless figure. When he comes to, his eyes creaking open slowly, he sees the gentle orange-ish hue of the morning sky, the neat room around him, the scent of detergent and soothing fabric softener wafting near his face. And he realizes his head is tucked into Eddie’s side, the boy’s slowed heartbeat thumping softly against his ear.

Normally, he’d just let Eddie sleep, as he’s usually only the asshole waking everyone up when it’s the whole gang. He doesn’t mind spending a few hours by himself in the morning. In fact, he enjoys the opportunity to try to fall back asleep (even though he never does).

But with a sudden impulse, he lays a palm on Eddie’s ribcage and pushes himself up onto his elbows, then shakes the boy.

“Eddie.”

A muffled, “Mmph?”

“Eds, wake up.”

The boy drags a pillow over his ears for all of two seconds before Richie tickles his stomach. Then he crankily sits up and lets out a gruff, “What?”

Richie grins. “The sunrise, Eds! Look, it’s so pretty, you have to believe me.”

Eddie responds by laying his cheek on Richie’s shoulder blade, slumping forward with his eyes still closed. “You do know,” he breathes, “that if the sun is just rising, it’s like, six a.m.?”

“Hmm, 5:49, but close enough, I suppose.”

The most huffy breath that Eddie can manage at this hour tickles the hairs on the back of Richie’s neck. “Did you know that people who don’t sleep enough die a lot younger? There are serious health consequences.” It doesn’t come out in his usual fiery, punctuated tone; it’s soft and filled with a yawn and he’s pretty sure Eddie might fall back asleep just like that. “You can’t die early on me, Richie. And I don’t want to. Go back to sleep.” He peeks one eye open at the window, squinting at the glow of the sun. “It is pretty, though.” With that, he falls back against the pillow and curls into a ball against the wall.

And Richie’s pretty damn sure in that moment that he’s, like, in love

And, sure, that’s terrifying.

He has no one to talk to about it and nothing could convince him it’s normal, so he shrugs it off and pretends it isn’t there.

Cause that’s a good way to cope, right?

It doesn’t matter that Eddie is so easily comfortable with him—he’s a low-pressure person, is all. And no one had called out the way pet names rolled off Richie’s tongue so easily, because that was just a part of his joke. Normal. Easy.

Until it wasn’t

You see, there’s this bitch Pennywise. This idiot clown terrorizes his friends, kills people, haunts their nights and days, and fucks with their minds. Tries to turn them against each other. And they can’t even throw a jest back! It’s a sick system.

Well, anyway, the losers end up in some crickety, wooden, falling-apart-at-the-seams murder house on Neibolt, because Bill wants to find his brother and none of them are willing to abandon him. Instead, Richie gets to see himself dead, face off with a monstrous fucking clown, and hear heart-wrenching screams from Eddie that he can’t even help, because he can’t get out.

When he does, he reunites with Stan and Bill, using the few seconds he has to catch his breath.

Just as quickly, he loses it.

In front of him lies Eddie, arm twisted at the ugliest, most heinous angle, and not only is he probably in pain and freaking out about the arm, but a 7-foot tall clown is sauntering towards him with a stupid swaggering gait, like it knows that they can’t do anything to save Eddie.

Eddie.

The boy cowers against dust and fallen wood that must be itching to give him splinters; tears streak down his dirty face and his chest rises and falls rapidly, as Pennywise taunts him. Fucking horses around, making stupid noises and joking while Eddie falls apart, and Richie doesn’t know how to save him, even after everything Eddie’s done for him. Richie is vaguely aware of Stan grasping his shoulder, trying to ground him, and he silently thanks him as he glances around for fucking anything to use as a weapon, because he certainly can’t jump into this blindly--

Then Beverly busts into the room and stabs the bitch in the head, and Richie can’t think but his feet are moving and he lands in front of Eddie in the few seconds’ time he has to play catch-up. He reminds himself to remind Bev of just how much he loves her later.

For now, though, his focus is Eddie. His ears are ringing and he’s noted the commotion going on behind him, he even realizes that Bill ends up at his side, but his gaze is right on his Eds, grasping at his face, trying to do anything to help him.

“Eds. No, no, no! Look at me! It’s okay. Please be okay.” He steadies his voice and tries really hard not to think about how much he sucks as a caretaker, how he has no fucking clue what to do, but he’s scared and he desperately just wants to take Eddie from the room and keep him safe, forever and ever.

Terror-filled eyes find him as the clown continues toward the three of them, flexing horrendous claws; Richie kneels in front of Eddie and Bill’s at his back, and Richie knows Eddie acknowledges him but he’s whimpering and shaking and staring back at the clown. And Pennywise is thriving.

“Eds,” he says, louder, grabbing Eddie’s chin and forcing it in his direction. “Please just - fuck the clown, okay? Fuck everything. It’s me and you. I’ve got you.” And he’d probably be much more convincing if he weren’t shouting and clinging to Eddie’s shoulders like it means death.

But, he seems to capture the boy’s attention, as he keeps his eyes steadily on Richie and blinks a few times. “My arm!” he cries. “Fuck, I can’t fucking move. I’m gonna die. It hurts, Rich.”

“Hey, you’re not gonna die. I don’t die early on you, you don’t die early on me. That’s the deal.”

“Some deals are made to be broken.”

Eddie is just staring at him, blank eyes staring through him with a grin, a stark contrast to the screaming that was going on just moments before. A surge of panic rises in Richie’s chest, like a freezing wind knocking through his stupid little preteen body. He shakes his head in confusion.

“Eddie, shut up. It’s just your arm. You’re gonna be fine!”

A shrug. “Who’s to say?” And then he sits up, arm convulsing at his side like some dying snake, and Richie flinches and flies back into Bill’s chest. He can’t do this. He can’t help Eddie like he should, he can’t take care of him like he wants to. He’s a coward.

“Rich.” Bill is a million miles away.

Right here, right now, is that thing in Eddie’s place, body rattling like a rag doll. “They’ll find out.” Eddie’s voice is fucked up, scratchy, and his eyes are all wrong; the way he’s staring at him is fucking uncanny. “Get too touchy, Rich, and you know what’ll happen.”

“Stop, please, fucking stop!”

“Richie!” Bill is finally right there, shaking both of his shoulders from behind. “S-stop. You’re f-f-fine. It’s just fucking with your head.”

It takes a few deep breaths, but Richie turns to him and says a quick, ‘Thanks,’ before turning back to real-Eddie, who is now dry-heaving and wailing at the sight of his arm.

Eddie’s chest thrusts forward and back rapidly, and he keeps trying to back further from the bedlam in front of them. His face contorts into an absolutely heart-wrenching cry, and as he looks at Richie, gripping his hand with an iron fist, Richie’s heart splits in two. It’s hard, it’s way too hard not to say I love you, after all that. And it’s hard not to run.

“I don’t wanna die - ”

Richie crawls closer to cradle Eddie’s head. “Eddie, if you die I’ll kill you.” He wants to go home, he wants to cry, he wants to sleep for about three days and pretend this never happened. But he can’t. He has to be here for Eddie, as much as he wants to flee right now. “You’re not going to, you know that? I still owe you ice cream. And I’m gonna get you inside the arcade—“

“Fuck the arcade!”

Somehow, in all of the fuckery going on, Richie laughs. “That’s the spirit!” Eddie, in a scramble to back away from the startle of Pennywise running away, shifts into Richie’s lap. “Okay, Eddie, breathe.” Richie gulps down a breath himself. “I’m gonna snap your arm back into place.”

Eddie’s eyes light up, completely on fire, spitting poison at Richie. “Rich! Do not fucking touch me!”

Richie winces at the words but he hears Bev screaming, “Richie, his arm!” and uses the moment of yelling to just do it, to get Eddie’s arm back to a relatively normal shape, and then he’s screaming and it’s like he wants Richie to cry in front of everyone.

“Okay okay okay, it’s done. No more.” Richie, awkward and lost at what to do, brushes back sweaty hair from Eddie’s forehead, because he’s pretty sure the boy would hate how sticky everything had gotten, and if he could help even one thing, well, it’s something.

He wishes he could help carry Eddie home, sit with him in the hospital, anything to cheer him up.

But he doesn’t get the chance. Mrs. K is outside and snatches Eddie from the losers in the flash of an eye, talking like they broke his fucking arm or something.

That’s when it all goes downhill

Richie storms away from his stupid feud with Bill, the fucking dumbass who punched him in the face because he said he didn’t want a clown to kill him and his friends. He thinks it’s the most reasonable thing he’s ever said, objectively, but whatever. He doesn’t want to lose his friends. But in that moment, he doesn’t see many other options.

When he trudges back home after his third day alone at the arcade, following newly-formed muscle memory to avoid his uncle (close the door slowly, shift weight and run upstairs, wait at least twenty minutes to go back down for food in case he stirs), he notices another car. Immediately, Richie throws open the doors, calling out, “Mom!” and finds her in the kitchen, with his uncle.

“Hey sweetie, I just got home—“ she startles at the sight of him.

“Jeez, that bad?” he jokes, running a hand through his hair. “Just remember, mom, half of this is ‘cause of you.”

She approaches him quickly, summer blazer flowing behind her from the speed, and crouches down just slightly to be at eye-level. “Richie, honey, what did you do to your lip?” she asks. He doesn’t realize right away, but he tilts his head into her touch, and she strokes his cheek gently.

Richie had forgotten about the whole ordeal—his friends almost dying at the hands of a killer clown was pretty damn distracting from his low-life uncle—but now, he sets a spitting glare on the man leaning back and manspreading at their kitchen table.

“Uncle Alan had a few kind words to say over dinner the other night.”

Her tender touch to his face is lost when she whips around to face his uncle, and Richie feels like a little kid again, standing behind his mom and clutching at her coat while she takes care of everything.

“You hit him?” she says, her voice threatening in a low mumble, teeth clenched together. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You touched my kid?” She holds back a hand as though to shield Richie as she slams her other fist on the table.

“How do you know it wasn’t one of his faggy friends? Or maybe some other kid with common fucking sense?”

She leans down and takes him by the front of his shirt. “Don’t you dare, Alan. What the fuck were you thinking?”

Uncle Alan yells back in her face, spit flying, and Richie would jump forward to defend her if she weren’t holding him back so protectively (with one hand!). “Listen, Maggie, if he’s gonna act like that, I’m just preparing him for the real world.”

“You absolute shit! You don’t get to make that decision!” Richie has never, ever seen his mother so angry. “You battered a twelve year old boy! What, do you feel really big now, you pathetic piece of shit? Get the fuck out of my house!” At this point, she’s shaken him and thrown him back against the chair so he falls, catching himself just in time as it cascades to the ground.

“Fuck you, Maggie!”

She follows him down the hall.

“Fuck you!” Richie calls out at his retreating back, before his mother screams about pressing charges and slams the door behind him.

Richie’s mom rushes back into the kitchen to face him. She’s red in the face, eyes on fire, but she softens at the sight of him.

“Richie, sweetheart, I’m sorry we left you.” She cradles his face again. “Hey.” She holds him with both hands. “Listen. If anyone ever hurts you, you call me. If anyone ever so much as threatens you, Rich - ”

Richie, choked up, interjects, “I didn’t know the number, mom. I don’t know where the little paper you wrote it on is, I’m sorry—“

“It’s okay.” She looks at him for a few more moments, then swaddles him up in a big, mama bear hug. “I love you, kid. I hope you know that.”

“I love you too.”

For a few minutes, she just holds him, stroking his back while silent tears fall down his face and onto the chest of her shirt. She doesn’t seem to mind

It’s late. Richie doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he’s on top of the world.

He ends up at Eddie’s house, even though he knows they’re not talking and Eddie’s mom might kill him on sight, he has to see him. Mrs. K can go fuck herself.

Outside the boy’s bedroom window, he raps quietly with his knuckles, just about buzzing with a high, high feeling toward life. He can see Eddie lying in bed, struggling to prop up a book to read, lamplight cascading onto his skin - that is, until he hears Richie, and flies toward the window with a crazed look.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asks, brows knitting together. “My mom will kill you if she hears you.”

That doesn’t matter so much to him at that moment. “Eddie!” He swings his legs over the banister and jumps into the room, adrenaline and something like love pushing him to lift Eddie to his chest and spin. “Eds, my mom came home early and she kicked that motherfucker out of my house!”

Eddie’s eyes are crazed from the spinning and he clings to Richie’s shoulder with his good hand; and he grins, a giggle caught in his lips. “That’s great, Richie. Fuck that guy.”

“Yeah, fuck him! And god Eddie, she - she protected me, and we just spent hours together, watching movies and making dinner like old times, and it was amazing, and - god, I know I sound like a dork, but I - ”

He pauses, mostly because he’s out of breath from machine-gunning a paragraph out of nowhere; but also because in his flustered state he didn’t register the sweet-cheeked smile that Eddie is currently melting him with.

But when he does, Richie thinks to himself: sure, blue eyes are great; they can be compared to the sky or the ocean or whatever other cheesy nature bit all goddamn day. But Eddie’s eyes - hell, he doesn’t care if he sounds like a cornball - they’re fucking amazing. They usurp all of that bullshit. He’s used to them when they’re blown wide in surprise, or holding him in a steely glare for some dumb joke, and he loves them then; but right now he catches a kind of tenderness hidden in the dark. Something that envelops him in warmth and pinks his cheeks.

Eddie takes the opportunity to pipe up. “Richie,” he says, “I’m really happy for you.”

He means it. Richie knows he means it, because for the last several days, he’s heard Eddie mumbling to himself somewhat privately about ��that piece of shit,’ and right now he’s clutching Richie’s sleeve and smiling without a trace of mockery.

And he’s perfect.

His tousled hair that’s rustled from what looks to have been a constant stream of fingers, stressed over the book or his mom or god-knows-what; the oversized t-shirt he’s drowning in and short shorts and perfectly matched socks; and those shining eyes and friendly smile and soft fucking hands that hold all the electricity of Richie’s excitement - all perfect.

And Richie, Richie could just kiss him.

He doesn’t.

Mrs. K knocks at the door.

“Eddie bear, it’s time for your nighttime oils!”

Richie cracks a wise-ass smile. “Eddie bear, if I’d known you needed nighttime oils, well, I would have come prepared.”

“Get the fuck out,” Eddie says. The laughter catching on his lips tells another story.

Richie throws an utterly charming wink in his direction and crouches in the window, preparing to jump out and make his escape.

“Wait!” Eddie grabs the back of Richie’s t-shirt. “It’s cool that you stopped by. It’s - it’s been lonely in this hellhole. I might have gone insane if I thought you guys forgot about me.”

“Aw, I’d never forget you, cutie.” Richie, stomach twisting and turning, supports himself with his forearm on the outside of the window. “And, anyway, I gotta practice my Romeo somewhere, right?”

Eddie lets out a characteristic huff. “Whatever.”

It’s quiet, save for the distant tweeting crickets, and the scent wafting through the nighttime is intoxicating, and for the following moments the world reminds them to just breathe.

“You’re gonna miss curfew, Rich,” Eddie mumbles, leaning out the window on his elbows. And Richie hears it: you’re alone, you know what could happen. Stay safe.

“I’m not afraid, Eds.” He means it. Richie can’t draw up what fear even feels like right then. With a flick of an eyebrow, he nods toward the door. “Mother is waiting.”

“I know.” He smiles. “I’ll see you, Tozier.”

Richie, without any reservations (until he thinks back on it later), reaches out as though to pinch Eddie’s cheek, but instead, runs his thumb along Eddie’s cheekbone. “See ya, Eds.” He smiles. “I’m gonna get you out of here someday.”

Eddie shakes his head as Richie takes his hand away from Eddie’s newly red cheeks and makes his way back to the ground, muttering, “My hero.”

And Richie looks back with a grin at the silhouette of the dork in the window, saluting before taking off

It sucks when Beverly leaves.

It’s an early morning, red and orange hues breaking across the skyline like a cracked egg, and Richie, Stan, and Ben all gather around to watch her disappear off to the nearest airport, and then disappear from them forever. Though it’s not nearly as mopey and depressing as it could have been, it’s hard to watch her go; a warm energy follows her as she hugs them all goodbye, looking at them with her all-knowing, crooked little smile, rolling her eyes but expressing more love than any of them had ever known, and Richie knows she means every word of loving and missing that she says. And he knows he’ll miss her more than anything.

He does. Not much helps with the pain of missing someone, but as the days go by, pieces of her slowly slip from his mind, until finally she’s all gone

New Years offers promises of ‘new me’s and resolutions and maybe some kind of peace. And considering everything, it’s the saving grace Richie thinks he needs.

A chance to forget his uncle, the murderous clown that haunts his dreams, and his personal revelation that he loves Eddie Kaspbrak.

It didn’t ruin their friendship by any means, just made his cheeks flush and heart throb and his rebuttals come back stutter-y when Eddie merely smiled at him. It was stupid textbook puppy love. He never thought he’d fall for that.

And, he’s not gay. He can’t be, or he’ll have to pay the price.

It's just that Eddie is his best friend. They’re all best friends, but Eddie never really stopped engaging with his exhausting jokes like the others, when it was finally too much. Eddie always bickered back, he took the bait and bit back. Eddie took him home when he got hurt and cared for him and then went right back to fighting.

He loves Eddie the way he should love someone like Bev.

But it’s nothing.

The night is cutting, crisp with a fresh wintery bitterness, biting at Richie’s nose until it’s practically bleeding. To be fair, he’d opted to only wear one of his lighter jackets and some gloves, so it’s his own fault that his scalp is freezing over and he’s shaking on his way to the loser’s little spot in the meadow.

At least his friends are smart.

Stan sports a matching tartan hat and scarf, bundled up around his face so only the pinkish tip of his nose is poking out; Bill has a nice puffy coat and a hat with a bauble rested atop his head; Ben’s ushanka hat is wrapped tightly under his chin, and he waves at Richie with mittens keeping his hands warm; Mike is representing a lot of fleece, and he grins at Richie, shaking his head when he sees his lack of winter clothes; and then there’s Eddie, wearing a coat that has to be at least an extra large, and a knitted cap, bundled up so only his fussy eyes and nose are squinting out at Richie.

In Richie’s defense, he was running late, and he had sprouted a little bit in the last few months, so his previously comfortable winter coat was now tight and painful in the shoulders and chest. This jacket was his best option in the 30-second long window he had to get dressed and run out the door to attempt to be on time.

Stan levels a look at him, thoroughly appreciating his idiocy, and obviously not pitying his shaking form more than a quick flash of sympathy in his eyes; he cares, but Richie obviously brought this upon himself. The ensuing cold would be his own fault, and he’d call Stan to complain, just to grin quietly as the boy went on the calmest rant about how stupid he is and then hang up. It’s just how they worked.

Richie wonders if he’d tell a potential partner that they should have brought a coat to a date if they complained of the temperature. It’s beside the point, but amusing.

“C’mon man, you didn’t think about a scarf at least?” Mike says as a greeting, laughing a little bit as he removes his own and wraps it messily around Richie’s neck. In that moment, Richie would give up his life for this kid. The body heat/fleece combo immediately brings him back from the brink of a nosebleed.

“Richie doesn’t think, period.” Stan sticks his hands in his pockets and stares at him, ghosts of amusement playing on his cheeks.

Richie flashes his teeth in a big ol’ grin. “That’s pretty accurate, actually, I just wanted to be with you guys on time so badly, you know.”

Bill lets out a small, unenthused, “Aww.”

Richie simply chuckles and tries to wrap his fingers in Mike’s scarf to help with the inevitable hypothermia. Eddie winds up next to him in their gathering, sucking in a big breath through his nostrils and huffing out shortly.

He bumps Eddie’s arm with his elbow and says, “What’s up with you, Eds?”

Eddie nearly topples over from the size of the coat weighing him down, and he curses under his breath before standing back up and glaring at Richie. “You really didn’t wear a bigger coat, dumbass?”

“As you can see, no,” Richie chuckles.

Eddie presses his tongue into his cheek. “Well, you can share mine. It’s more than big enough.”

Oh.

Right, sharing a coat. That’s fine. No pressure or anything.

Richie aims for a cool response, some funny voice or smooth and subtle, and lands on, “Yeah, cool. Thanks.”

So, they share. And it’s pretty great.

Eddie unzips it and pulls Richie in, and they collaborate to pull it up and then Richie is pressed up against Eddie’s side, in public, already sweating even though he’s still cold because he doesn’t know if he can handle this.

Fortunately, they’re hidden by the dark, so maybe the boy or their friends won’t notice his red cheeks (or they’ll chalk it up to the cold) and the extra focus he has to place on acting normal. Because Eddie smells nicer than most boys their age, and he’s got a heart too big for his body, and Richie’s sure that Eddie loves him back in at least some way. It’s not just anyone that would get to be this close, squeezed into a coat with him.

Richie feels sick.

But the fireworks are starting, and they might be sparse and lackluster in the hell that is Derry, but each loser looks to the sky with love, with appreciation, in awe of the fact that something beautiful can apparently come from hell.

Barely, just barely, Eddie’s head falls against Richie’s shoulder as they gaze up into the inky black sky illuminated by cakes of fireworks, and he whispers, “Wow,” under his breath right next to Richie’s ear, and now Richie’s contemplating between the two possible causes of his death: he combusts, or he stops breathing - to be determined.

Richie begs the universe for advice in the ultimate predicament. And to his great relief, memories seep back into his brain; those of freckled cheeks, teeth balancing a cig as a mouth talks, and bundles of ginger curls bouncing as her head turns in his direction.

“Bev would love this.”

Riche catches the way Ben looks over at him pretty much immediately - at them, sharing body heat in Eddie’s coat - and then how the boy stares at the ground and mumbles a soft, “Yeah.” He looks back at Richie, holds his eye contact for a sweet, lingering moment, then gazes back at the sky, hopefully thinking of love as much as Richie is.

Bill, Mike, and Stan all follow, tearing their eyes away briefly to make quick eye contact with each other, and then Richie, and Eddie even shifts to look up at him, and they all smile wistfully as though the girl is there with them, snarky remarks and toothy smiles keeping them all afloat. Richie feels like he’s going to break open and cry enough to fill the whole universe, so he sniffles and looks back up at the sky, breaking the moment of magic.

But it remains with them.

It remains as they share this together, as they enter the new year together, promising hope for a happier future as long as they stick with each other.

And it remains as Eddie Kaspbrak takes his hand under the coat and murmurs, “Happy new year, Richie.”

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it 2017 #fanfiction #fluff #angst #sharing a bed #pining #new years #summer #mine #gosh i hope this isnt too dorky sfhdgjhsdfg

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amphxtrite · 4 years

Note

hey there! golden trio era, please! my name is miliane, but i go by millie or liane. i’m a ravenclaw, 5”4, i have long dark brown hair, and light morena skin. i have brown eyes. i’m an asian, filipino but i’m fluent in english more than my mother tongue, seeing as i was raised with people who only talks to me in english, but im just as good in filipino, like any other person born here. i’m a weasley simp, no surprise there seeing as they’re all charming and good looking. i’m a sarcastic and witty person, a bit cocky when with friends, but i’m really a softie tbh, i care deeply about the people i love. i’m an INFP-T, so kinda explains. i love eating, although it would seem as i may never become fat, bc of my body complexion. i love to read! like i have tons of novels perked up in my study table, 20 and counting. i love anything connected to arts; music, movies, paintings, drawing. my sense of style is appreciated, like i rlly love styling my clothes, and even if we’re going somewhere unimportant and simple, it would never not give me a reason to be extra ;) but i shift to different styles every now and then, looking for the right one as i’m indecisive sometimes. i tend to be rlly shy when i’m around new people, and i usually have to spend a good amount of time with them for me to be myself around them. i love spreading awareness about societal issues, it’s a big part of my life and i’ve been spreading about them ever since i was 12, i keep on learning each day about it and discuss it on socmed. i have trust issues, due to some past problems, and once i get past that with someone, it would shift to abandonment issues (friend, or relationship wise). i would love a guy who’s gonna be willing to put up with my impulsive bs sometimes lol, like sneaking out in the middle of the night to eat at the kitchens, watch movies together and dance like we’re the only ones left. he wouldn’t force anything out of me til he and i know that i’m ready. and i would rlly love if he would give me one or two of his hoodies, and he would spray them with his cologne bc he knows that i love the way he smells, and maybe sneak in a small note for me to read in the pockets. i love forehead and nose kisses, i’m a goner for those. pet names are one of my weaknesses, (love, lovely, darling, babe, baby)— and i’m yours. i’m not much of an affectionate person as i didn’t have much of it during my childhood, so simple handholding and hugs would make me a bit flustered and awkward but very much appreciated.

thank you, i hope you have a great day, i rlly appreciate u for doing this, ily and all ur works <33333

Thank you for the details, they make these so much easier to write lol.

i ship you with...

Fred Weasley.

how you meet

“Miliane, you’ll be partnering up with Fred for our next assignment, please take a seat next to him.” Professor McGonagall smiles as you pick up your book bag and make your way next to the red head she must have been referring too.

Fred was busy tinkering away at something under his desk when you sat next to him. He lifted his head expecting his twin, but instead came eye to eye with a girl. Dreamy brown eyes and a blue tie on your neck, Fred loses his train of thought as concern adorns your face.

“Oh my apologies, I’m fred. What’s your name darling?” He smiles as your face tints a faint pink and your lips pull up into a gentle grin.

“Miliane, but please, call me Millie. We’re partners for the project.” You nod towards the blackboard at the front of the classroom.

“Well then Millie, we better get to work then.” Fred grins, pulling his wand from his pocket as you pull out a textbook.

For the rest of the period you and Fred do your best at the project, practicing your incantations and wand movement as McGonagall writes on the board.

You find it hard to concentrate at the task at hand with Fred constantly trying to make you laugh. Transfiguring flowers from the tip of his wand, throwing paper balls at his brother’s back and just joking with you quietly. You weren’t complaining though, it was nice to get a break from the work load you got from each of your classes.

After that transfiguration class, the two of you meet up often in the library, though it turns into more of a hangout than a study session. You roam the shelves and you show Fred your favourite books and poems as he tries to balance as many books as he can on his head. Often times you’ll relax at one of the library tables in between the shelves to drink pumpkin juice and eat sweets over conversations about anything and everything and in a heartbeat, Fred realizes he’s falling in love.

He fell for your sarcastic jokes and your soft personality. He loves your passion for reading and the arts, he could listen to your reading voice for hours.

Fred adores your sense of style and has awkwardly asked you to style him before

Even before you’re dating he gives you his sweaters when ever you’re cold

it becomes a habit to spray them in extra cologne because he knows how much you like it

When he notices you getting a little distant from him, he hugs you close and reassures you he isn’t going anywhere. You eventually tell him about your past and how it hurt you

It got him in quite a few fights, but he was willing to go any lengths to show the assholes who made you cry who they were dealing with.

Fred took his time to prove himself as a friend before a lover, he knew you fell and got hurt quickly in your past relationships and he wouldn’t let that be the case with him.

He joins you in your midnight snack runs whenever you ask of him. He even enchants his alarm to wake him if you were ever on your way to the kitchens at night

The two of you feast on desserts and left over dinner from the day as the house elf’s just kind of giggle at the two of you.

He loves calling you petnames and he knows you love them. Your face goes the most beautiful red and he can’t help but drop it into every sentence

“How are you love?”

“Darling you’ve got something on your face.”

“You look stunning love.”

“my darling have you seen my tie?”

He does his best to make lasting memories with you even on the most ordinary of days

“c’mon millie!” Fred laughs as he pulls you through the halls of the school to the empty courtyard before gathering you into his arms and waltzing you around the yard like it was the Yule. “Freddie, we’re going to get caught!” You laugh, rolling your eyes, but allowing yourself to be twirled around the square. “See if I care darling. For all I know, we’re the only ones here.” He chuckles, speeding up your dance until your dizzy from spins and laughing with joy.

Leaving little notes for you in his hoodie pockets and in the pages of your books became a fun little activity he came up for you. They ranged from ‘I miss you.’ to ‘remember to give it back so i can spray more cologne on it.’ You kept every note

Sometimes he’ll have you help him with his tie in the morning just so he can see your cheeks light up and your eyes darting back and forth trying not to make direct eye contact as he stares lovingly at you

Hugs. He’s a sucker for hugs and he loves it when you kind of just muzzle closer to him. He likes to pepper little kisses across your temple

One night he takes you stargazing and simply holds your hand as the two of you stare up at the stars

A shooting star passes and he sees your eyes close to make a wish

He dies the same and when you open them again you turn to Fred

“What did you wish for darling?”

“I-I wished for happiness what about you Freddie?”

“I wished for you darling.” He smirk, bringing his face closer to yours.

“I’m right here silly.”

“Not like that Millie. I wished for you to be my girl. My lover.” Fred sighs, inching closer

“Can I kiss you?” He smiles, gazing into your brown eyes.

“Yes Freddie, you may.”

Fred connects your lips together in a slow kiss, smiling as you respond quickly and cup his face in your hand.

You pull back to smile and cuddle closer to Fred’s chest as his arms wrap around you and he kisses your hairline.

“you’re mine darling.” Fred teases lightly almost in disbelief

“I’m yours Freddie.” you giggle, pressing kisses up Fred’s jawline.

Hope you like this!!🤍🤍

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gerberbabey · 4 years

Text

debut | one | pope heyward w/ filipina!reader

the idea of the pogues in a high school setting is actual so fun so i kinda got carried away. i rlly hav a thing for writing the character pining for the reader rather than the other way around.

im basing this off of how my high school was cus idk shit about any other high schools lmao. also excuse volleyball terminology, i also very much miss volleyball

masterlist | previous | next

warnings: cursing, like terrible writing, just filler stuff

one - ♫ I THINK by Tyler, The Creator ♫

It was already two weeks into your senior year and you were settling in nicely. At two weeks people were still switching around their classes making sure they wouldn’t regret the class they decided to settle into. You were satisfied with your schedule considering you only had 3 actual academic classes.

For your last year you’d opted out of taking one least year of math or another year of science. You were a good student sure but you’d never been the best at maths or sciences. To the Pogues’ surprise Pope had a similar schedule, yet the only reason he wasn’t packed with AP classes was because he was signed up for dual enrollment with online college courses.

“Dual enrollment helps clear GEs better than AP classes. I’m not saying I wouldn’t pass those AP tests but this way is easier,” Pope explained to JJ as they walked through the crowded halls of Kildare County High. Kooks and Pogues alike littered the hallways, separated in their own little groups and yet standing amongst one another.

“Whatever you say Pope,” JJ shook his head. He and Pope had one class together this year and that was Intro to Drawing in the very beginning of the day.

“Heeeey guys,” Kie greeted as she walked up to them, hiking her bag up her shoulder. Kie had opted out of a backpack this last year and had instead started using a tote bag which was only filled with her laptop, a single notebook, her pencil case, and other small personal belongings that had nothing to do with school.

“You guys going to the game on Friday?” Kie questioned and Pope cringed as JJ groaned.

“No Kie, we are not going to the football game this Friday-”

“Guys come one, first game of the season! Plus the environmental club is planning to work snack bar. All the money goes toward the Turtle Habitats and the Save the Ocean Foundation,” Kie plead.

“As much as I love the turtles Kie,” the group stopped at Pope’s locker, “Our football team is garbage. Why would I subject myself to that?”

“Ok I know that, but don’t go for the team,” Kie raised her eyebrows at the two of them, “Go for the turtles!”

JJ shot her an “eeeh” sort of look and Kie huffed in annoyance.

“Come on, if you could give me a whole other way to fundraise then please do,” Kie crossed her arms as Pope shuffled around the belongings in his locker.

“You need help fundraising Kie?”

The three teens turned in the direction of your voice and you grinned as you walked up to them, your teammate and other best friend Isabelle walking with you. Isabelle was tall, one of the tallest girls at school actually, and though they saw you two together frequently it was still kind of amusing to see one of the tallest people they new walking around with one of the shortest people they knew.

“Yeah well, my club’s planning to do the football game snack bar but nobody goes to the game’s anyway so,” Kie shrugged.

“You could fundraise at the volleyball game,” Isabelle suggested giving Kie a smile. Kie smiled back sheepishly as she shifted on her spot.

“Are you serious?” she questioned, turning to you and you shrugged.

“Well, why not? Wouldn’t hurt to ask our coach,” you stated and Kie watched as Pope closed his locker and turned as your hands reached up to fix the collar of the button up he’d worn over his t-shirt.

“We have a game tomorrow, and then there’s a workshop on Saturday. If your club wants to try and fundraise during those, we can try and figure something out,” Isabelle spoke to Kie and Kie flushed for a moment before she nodded frantically and began talking over a few ideas that were already coming to mind.

“And people are guaranteed to show up to the girls volleyball games,” JJ wiggled his eyebrows at you and Pope and you laughed as Pope reached up to whack JJ in the chest. You couldn’t help but note how weird JJ looked without one of his usual hats on. You figured it was because the teachers lost their minds over hats being worn inside the building.

“So (Y/N),” Pope started and you and JJ looked at him.

“So Pope?” you smiled and missed how JJ glanced between the two of you with a knowing look in his eye.

“Am I gonna see your dress anytime soon?” Pope questioned and you rolled your eyes.

“Pope I literally already told you that no one’s allowed to see it until my party,” you leaned against Pope as he shook his head.

“But I’m not just anyone,” he insisted and you laughed as the first bell of the day rang overhead.

“Ok whatever dude,” you shoved at Pope and he playfully slapped at your arms, “Me and Isa have to go, I’ll see you guys later,” you bid and you gave Pope a hug and a kiss on the cheek before you waved goodbye to JJ and Kie. The three of them watched you two join the sea of students and JJ turned to Kie and Pope.

“Was I seriously just fifth wheeling?” he scoffed and Pope glared at him as Kie flushed at his insinuation.

__________

“Ok can I just get like...the color? Oh my-you never even told me the color!” Pope stared at you with wide eyes and you shook your head as you covered your mouth to try and keep your laugh from coming out. The two of you were in your second to last class of the day (You were both TA’s for the Intro to Film teacher and that usually meant goofing around in the back as the class watched movies all day), and Pope had not let the topic of your dress drop.

In fact he had asked you about it for the past three weeks.

“I can’t ruin it,” you whined and Pope leaned forward and groaned into your shoulder.

“Telling me the color won’t ruin it,” he mumbled and you reached up to rub his back.

“Yes it will,” you whispered back playfully and Pope groaned again as you laughed, “Oh by the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you...”

Pope sat up and motioned for you to continue.

“I don’t need to have an escort or anything, but I was actually wondering if you’d like to be my escort? For my party?” you weren’t sure why you were so nervous but you couldn’t get yourself to look Pope in the eye. You watched as your fingers played with the end of his shirt.

“(Y/N).”

You looked up at Pope through your lashes and he flashed you a wide grin.

“I would literally be honored,” Pope pulled you into a tight hug before pulling back, “Also I would’ve been extremely offended if you didn’t ask me and I probably would’ve just been your escort anyway.”

You laughed and quickly brought a hand up to cover it up as a few of the students in the room shot the two of you looks.

“I wouldn’t even go through with the party without you,” you told him softly and Pope could feel his heart skip a beat. Sometimes he wondered what it would’ve been like if he had gathered up the courage to ask you out ages ago. Despite the bullshit he told his friends he knew that he was in love with you. He would always love you, but being in love with you was different. It meant so much more.

“So that means I get to know the color of your dress right?” Pope whispered and your mouth dropped open in shock as a wide grin stretched across his face. You tried to stop yourself from smiling as you reached up to whack him on the shoulder.

“No!” you whisper-yelled.

“But how am I gonna coordinate with you-”

“Drop it Pope,” you laughed as the bell rang to indicate the end of class.

________

“Where’s Kie?” John B questioned as JJ and Pope walked up to him. Today was the first girl’s volleyball game of the year and they had planned on going to watch together. They only really did it out of support toward you but that obviously didn’t stop JJ from his usual flirting.

“Her club’s doing snack bar or something, to help fundraise for turtles. Did she not tell you?” Pope asked as they walked into the gym together. There was music playing through the gym’s speakers and there was chatter and noise from every point. There was the sound of shoes squeaking against the gym floor and the sounds of volleyballs coming into contact with the floor, hands, the walls, etc.

“Nah, I didn’t see her that much yesterday or even today.”

“Yeah, where the hell were you anyway?” JJ questioned as he led the way up the bleachers. It was definitely crowded but the boys weren’t at all surprised, Kildare County High’s volleyball team was actually good, meaning they usually garnered a large audience of spectators.

“I was at the counselor’s like all day trying to figure out how I’m gonna get enough credits to graduate,” John B sighed and JJ and Pope cringed. After John B’s dad disappeared in their sophomore year, the boy had taken a half a step back from his academic responsibilities to try and keep himself together and afloat. Then after Big John’s body was found at the beginning of their Junior year, John B had considered dropping out entirely. He missed a majority of that school year as a result of his grief, deciding that he felt there was no point for school any longer.

Yet with the surprising help of Sheriff Peterkin he had pushed himself back into finishing school. The school understood of course, but that didn’t mean it didn’t take a toll on his academic record.

“I’m sure it’ll work out in the end,” Pope encouraged and JJ nodded, before the blonde clapped and looked around, eager to get John B’s mind off the matter.

“Oh shit look there’s Quincy,” JJ pointed out and the trio made their way over the where a large group of other Pogues who had gathered up on one side of the bleachers. While some schools may have had senior sections or something of the like, their gym was separated by Kooks, Pogues, parents, and then any visitors from the opposing school.

“Hey JJ what’s up man?”

JJ dapped up Quincy and the two of them began talking about something or another as John B and Pope were greeted by the people around them.

“Yeah (Y/N)!!” someone near them yelled, “You dig those balls!”

The three boys turned to the court and watched as you shook your head and laughed but kept your focus on the court. You squatted down low once more and they watched as you warmed up, passing dimes for your setter to set.

“Woooh (Y/N)!” JJ’s hands were cupped around his mouth as he yelled.

“Yeeeahhh!” John B yelled and was followed up by the student section of their gym, Pogues and Kooks alike, cheering for their team despite it only being in warm ups.

Soon enough people had settled into the bleachers as the Varsity game came to a start. (Pope, JJ, and John B had yelled their hearts out at your introduction - “Number 10, Libero: (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!”. And JJ had pointed out where Kie was bustling over at the snack bar, charming people into buying whatever she pointed out to them).

“Oh shit hey, I’m gonna go say hi to (Y/N)’s parents. I totally forgot,” Pope told his friends and the two nodded, waving him off. Pope mumbled “excuse me’s” as he maneuvered his way by people’s legs and tried not to knee anybody in the back of the head. He jogged down the steps of the bleacher and made his way to where the parents were all situated, watching the game intently. There was a bout of cheering and Pope glanced over to the court to watch you jump up in excitement as your team scored another point.

“Hey Pope!” Pope looked up at that and smiled as your mom waved him over to where she was sitting with your dad.

“Hi!” he greeted, and leaned over as your mom stretched her arms up to give him a hug in greeting.

“Your parents not here tonight?” your dad questioned and Pope shook his head.

“Nah they couldn’t leave the store. They really wanted to come though. (Y/N)’s last first game and all.”

“Ah well that’s alright, plenty of games after this one.”

“Of course. Uh Mrs. (Y/L/N) how’s the party planning?” your mom rolled her eyes though he could tell there was no ill intent.

“Stressful. All (Y/N) focused on was her dress and her guest list. Finding a place to even have the party was almost impossible,” your mom explained and Pope chuckled.

“(Y/N) won’t even let me know what the dress looks like,” Pope told them and your mom laughed as your dad nodded.

“She’s hid it from her dad too.”

“Won’t be able to see it ‘till the party,” your dad shook his head at that as Pope let out a surprised chuckle.

“You ate that (Y/N)!” someone yelled and Pope and your parents glanced over at the game and watched you get picked up by Isabelle as your team cheered over winning the first set of the match.

“Well I’m gonna head back to my friends,” Pope pointed over to where John B and JJ were sitting, now with the addition of Kie.

“Of course, of course. We’ll be seeing you at our house later?” your mom teased and Pope shrugged as he laughed.

He waved your parents goodbye and by the time he’d gotten back to his friends Kildare was already ahead in the second set.

“Not working anymore Kie?” Pope questioned as he took a seat beside her leaving her between him and JJ.

“Yeah we made shifts so it’s Marco’s turn,” Kie explained pointing over to the snack bar.

“Was our volleyball team always this good?” JJ questioned and Pope scoffed.

“Yeah you were just too busy staring at their asses to watch them play,” he reached around Kie to shove at the blonde and JJ batted his arms away.

“Hey, you can’t exactly blame me!”

“Gross JJ,” Kie rolled her eyes and the boy looked at Kie with an offended look before turning to John B as if to say, ‘are you hearing this?’. John B only shook his head at his best friend. The 3 Pogues chuckled at JJ’s expense before they turned back to the game. It was your turn to serve now and as you waited for the referee to blow his whistle John B reached up and cupped his hands around his mouth.

“Do it for Pope, (Y/N)!!”

Pope whipped his head over to John B as the students around them “oooh’d!” some of them shoving at Pope playfully. From the court he missed how you glanced up at where they were sitting, a grin on your face as the referee finally blew the whistle to let you serve.

“Shut up John B!” Pope hissed and the brunette only laughed it off as Kie mentioned how Pope should’ve been used to this by now and JJ yelled.

“For Poooope!!!!” JJ yelled as you served the ball.

The Kildare supporters all cheered as you aced your serve and Pope flushed in embarrassment as you turned and pointed to him, riling up the crowd of students as those closest to him shoved at him once more.

“Yes King!” someone yelled at Pope and he couldn’t help but grin as he pointed back at you.

#Outer Banks #outer banks fic #outer banks x reader #outer banks imagine #pope x reader #pope heyward #pope heyward x reader #poc!reader #filipina!reader #obx #obx fic #obx fanfiction #the pogues have a normal high school life au

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magniloquent-raven · 5 years

Note

Ooh for your prompts: Fluffy Elmax sleepover with cuddling for #16 pls :') xoxox

i had such a good time writing this omg thank you!!! tho there’s a couple bits that threaten to be angst because im physically incapable of writing pure fluff lmao. it’s just tiny bits tho. just a smidge.

also, because s4 isn’t out yet i uh. kinda just did a time skip but didn’t rly change anything about how s3 left off? i know we know hopper’s alive but like. i guess he’s just still in russia in this fic LMAO rip. don’t think about it too hard

posted on ao3 as well :)

—-

Max’s watch timer beeps obnoxiously again. 8:36. El’s late. She hits snooze.

“When’s your friend supposed to be here, sweetie?”

“Soon, mom. You know, you and Neil don’t have to wait up.” They do this every time. Like Max isn’t almost seventeen and perfectly capable of being alone in her own damn house for five minutes. At this rate they’re going to be late for whatever thing it is they’re going to, and Neil will be even more of a bitch than usual.

Her mom glances over at him. He’s sitting in his armchair looking surly, checking his watch pointedly. Asshole.

“Well…I don’t think—”

Max hears a car pull up out front. “Oh, thank fuck,” she mutters, turning on her heel and marching out to greet the Byers’.

Joyce climbs out of the passenger seat as Max strides across the lawn. “Max, honey!” she waves, grinning bright, “How are you?” There’s always a…tone to how she asks that. Questions lurking under the surface that they don’t talk about. It makes Max’s insides all squirmy thinking about it, though she is on some level grateful for the concern.

Max stands on the curb, tugging on her earring. A habit by now. It’s both a comfort and a reminder. She got one hell of a lecture the day she came out of the bathroom with blood running down her neck and a safety pin in her earlobe, but she didn’t regret it for a second.

El slides out of the driver’s seat, her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. Max watches her stand and adjust her shirt. She always looked good in yellow. “I’m good,” Max responds after a beat, and it’s honest for once.

The door behind her creaks. Probably her mom and Neil coming out of the house, hopefully to leave, finally. She doesn’t turn around, just steps into Joyce’s waiting arms and presses her face into her shoulder. Max is taller than her now, by a couple inches, so it hurts her neck a little, but it’s worth it.

Will’s still tucked away in the backseat, peering through the window, Max waves at him when she peeks up over Joyce’s shoulder.

Then El distracts her. “Your hair,” she says, gently tugging on a lock behind her ear. Max steps back from Joyce, and runs a hand through it, cheeks pink. Three years ago she’d hacked off all her hair with a pocket-knife, woke up the morning of Billy’s funeral with strands still stuck to her neck, locks hanging ragged across her forehead. Her mother had thrown a fit.

“Yeah, I cut it again,” Max says, like that wasn’t obvious. She’d let it grow out uneven and messy for a while, but she broke out the scissors again about a month ago. It’s neater than her last haircut, but not by much.

El’s hand is in Max’s hair again, dangerously close to her face. Max’s knees wobble a little.

“Bitchin’,” she says solemnly, after a few seconds of consideration.

Max’s grin is blinding.

Her mother cuts in, before she can respond, gives her the usual talk about staying in the house and making sure she’s got her emergency numbers memorized. Then she bids them all a hasty, distracted goodbye. Her mom was never very comfortable about the Byers’. Probably something about Joyce’s too-knowing gaze, or the fact that El glares daggers at Neil every time he’s within range.

She’s doing it now. Watching him get into his truck with a quiet rage in her eyes. Joyce puts a hand on her elbow, and it doesn’t move until Neil’s truck has turned the corner at the end of the street.

“We should get going,” Joyce says, checking her watch. “Will wanted to be at Claudia’s an hour ago but we got caught up at Mike’s house, and, well, you know how it is,” she flutters her hands, approximating a shrug.

She hugs El goodbye, then pulls Max in for another one. “Call us if you need anything,” she says, pulling back and putting her hands on Max’s shoulders. That sad glint is in her eye again, and Max knows the offer extends beyond tonight.

“Thanks, Joyce, we will.”

By the time she’s taken the corner at the end of Cherry Lane Max’s watch is beeping again.

El glances down at it, a pinch between her eyebrows. “…Was that for me?”

“Uh.”

The confusion melts off her face, replaced by a cheeky grin. “It was!”

Max shuts the alarm off, cheeks burning. “Why were you guys at Mike’s for so long?” she asks. eager to change the subject. If the guys are meeting up at Dustin’s the delay wasn’t because Will and Mike were catching up, and, well, Mike and El’s relationship is…of interest to Max. For reasons.

El purses her lips. It’s a face that tells Max they’re gonna need to be sitting and cozy for this conversation because it’s gonna be a long one. So, she links their arms and pulls her inside.

An hour later they’re huddled under a throw blanket on the couch. El is giggling, face in her hands, and Max is wheezing around a mouthful of skittles.

“Oh, that’s so not funny,” she chokes out, trying not to spew candy everywhere, which brings about a fresh wave of laughter. El’s shoulders are shaking, brushing against Max’s and making her warm all over. God damn, she’s missed this.

“Then why are you laughing,” El replies, poking her side and smiling from ear-to-ear.

She’s beautiful, Max thinks. Her braid is half-undone, letting her hair curl around her face in gentle waves, and her eyes are bright. She looks happy, and Max holds on to that, keeps it all for herself because she did that, she made that happen. She might not have everything she wants from El, but she’ll take whatever she can get. Whatever El wants to give. And sometimes just her smiles are enough, enough to make Max’s chest constrict and her heart glow, because for now, she’s happy too.

She laughs again, in leu of a response. How can she not, when she feels so light she could float away, high on the soft strawberry scent of El’s shampoo and the way her cheek dimples when she grins. But she can’t say that, so she says, “Because it’s Mike,” and pokes El right back. “I’m legally obligated to laugh at his misfortune.”

They have a complicated friendship, which mostly boils down to her being willing to bail him out when he’s in shit, but only if she gets to make fun of him while she does it.

El wrinkles her nose a little, but her smile doesn’t dim, “You two are weird.”

She’s pretty sure it used to bother El, how much Mike and Max fought. Max can’t help but wonder if they’d have gotten along better if she wasn’t in love with his girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend. Because she’d dumped him for good this time. Four months ago, apparently, though Mike was, until a few hours ago, under the impression it was temporary.

Max almost feels bad for him. Except she doesn’t. Apparently, he was a dick about the whole thing, so at least she has a solid reason not to.

“You love us,” Max scoffs. El may have broken up with Mike, but she’ll always love him in some way or another.

El’s expression softens, turns fond and sweet. She’s thinking about Mike, Max is sure, but the smile is still directed as her. Small victories. “I do,” she says quietly.

They order a pizza after that, and watch movies into the wee hours of the morning. By 3am Max’s throat is raw, and her stomach hurts from laughing (and too much pizza). It’s the most fun she’s had in a while. The Byers’ don’t visit as often as any of them would like.

Max isn’t even tired, but El’s head has been dropping onto her shoulder on and off for the past hour so she suggests they call it a night.

She knows that when the boys sleep over at each other’s houses they’ll take the floor, or the couch in the basement, anything but actually sharing a bed. As El wraps an arm around her waist and snuggles up with her under the blankets, Max takes a moment to wonder if that would be better or worse than this.

It always seemed so miserable to Max, how much boys have to limit themselves.

But also…well, it might be easier sometimes. She wouldn’t have to deal with wanting things she shouldn’t want because El would be over there, and not right up in her space, hands warm and breath tickling Max’s ear. This is different than sitting thigh-to-thigh on the couch, it blurs the line more, and it’s the ambiguity that’s driving Max crazy.

She wasn’t tired before, but she’s wide-awake now.

Time creeps by strangely this late at night. Max isn’t sure how long she lays there, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm her pounding heart. El’s breath is steady, quiet, and her eyes are closed. Max is sure she’s asleep, she was so tired before.

Before she can stop herself her hand creeps up, brushes a strand of hair from El’s face.

Moonlit, she’s ethereal. There’s always been something otherworldly about El, with her big, dark eyes, always watching, boring holes into you with their intensity. Shadows play across her cheek, and Max tracks them for a while, absurdly jealous of moonlight.

She traces patterns on El’s forearm, the one resting on Max’s stomach, keeping her touch light so as not to wake her.

More time passes, and Max’s head feels heavy with sleep that won’t come. She’s groggy, leaning back but unable to keep her eyes closed.

She starts talking. Whispering. Remembering the times she read Wonder Woman comics to El until she fell asleep, and hoping, somewhere in her foggy brain, that it might work on herself too.

“You know… I always knew we’d be good friends. The second I heard your name I wanted to know you,” she murmurs, and draws a star on El’s wrist. “Didn’t know how badly I wanted until I saw you though. You were terrifying, and I loved it. And now…” Her eyes slide closed as she thinks. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met. You’re beautiful. Everything about you. And I love you…more than I should.” She sighs, sits in silence and cards her fingers through El’s hair. It’s getting so long.

El’s hand closes around her wrist.

Max’s eyes fly open, and she stills, heart pounding. “Uh.” El’s eyes are open, looking up at her, she’s awake, she’s awake, oh fuck– “Um. Did—did I wake you up, I’m—sorry if I woke you—”

“It’s okay.” The corners of her mouth turn up, slow and careful, “I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

“Oh.” Is all Max can manage, staring down at El with wide eyes, waiting for her to…do something. Max’s palms are sweating. She doesn’t know what to expect.

El moves her hand, puts Max’s palm against her cheek and shuffles forward until they’re nose to nose.

“Oh.”

She tastes like toothpaste and kiwi lip balm, and kisses as sweetly as she smiles. Her hands end up in Max’s hair, fingers gentle but demanding, guiding her forward. If Max wasn’t already laying down, she’d need to be because her knees are jelly.

“Oh,” El echoes when she pulls back, laughter in her voice. She presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Max’s mouth, careful and deliberate. Then her expression softens, sobers. “I was jealous of you. At first. Didn’t…know what it was. Know why. So, I ignored you. And… I’m sorry.”

Max shakes her head, “Ancient history. It’s okay.”

“No, I,” El stops, furrows her brow, “You were so happy. Free. I wanted that. And then, then you helped me have that. So. Thank you.” She cups Max’s face, fingertips tracing along her cheekbone, and Max’s heart sings. “And I love you too.”

They kiss again, and Max decides that El sleeping on the floor would’ve been a terrible idea.

#elmax #elmax fanfic #stranger things #el hopper #max mayfield #i couldn't resist the little bits about max mourning her brother because im a masochist apparently #if anyone was wondering the earring max is wearing is 100% billy's #and joyce knows neil is The Worst which is why she's concerned about max #making sure he isn't treating her how he used to treat billy #yeah #ALSO #susan being all overprotective?#is because of billy #like. he might not have been her kid but he was something to her yknow?#and now he's gone #and she gotta deal w that somehow #and shes dealing with it by clinging extra hard to the kid she's got left #THAT'S TOO MANY SAD HEADCANONS TO PUT IN ONE FLUFFY SLEEPOVER FIC WHY AM I LIKE THIS #anyway apparently posting my writing is a thing i do now so i need a tag #a raven's writing desk #because i'm real pretentious dont @ me lmao

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