#put the (other different) gays from your mind for twenty fucking minutes you only have so much free time

[sollucets]

writing a post to encourage myself to work on the next chapter of oe GO

[celestialholz]

Surrendering fucking Sunflora.

Oh Brassius. Brassius, Brassius, Brassius. I'm going to have to murder you with my bare hands for this one. Don't even need to wake up the Armarouge - you take an extended nap, king, keep those cannons fresh.

Did you know guys that there are thirty-three Surrendering Sunflora in and around Artazon? I do, because I've just spent forty-five minutes of the only life I will ever have working it out. And then another twenty ensuring I'm not wrong, which I possibly still am because this bitch has hidden these things everywhere! Arceus has placed me on this earth only to suffer.

But in spending over an hour on this, finally my soul can rest, because I have confirmation. Confirmation of what, exactly?

... Well, every single Surrendering Sunflora location is representative of what Hassel means to Brassius, in one way or another.

Might want to get your popcorn for this one, friends, maybe grab a blanket...

First though, before I attempt the frankly ridiculous task of explaining all these locations and their meanings, corporate needs you to find the difference between these two pictures:

They're the same picture.

Hassel is Sunflora in human form and with more dragons, right down to his mostly-green-and-yellow colour scheme and sunshine personality. And we know from this little extract that he is the direct inspiration for Surrendering Sunflora, because after Brassius tells you Hassel saved his life, he adds:

Much like The Harvest is part-Arboliva, part-Brass and part-Hass, as seen here in respective shape, spikiness and dragon colour...

... Surrendering Sunflora is part-Sunflora, part-Hass and part-Brass, in form, representation, and mood at the time of its creation.

Anyway, with that established, a map that took me another forty minutes to put together:

This is the location of every Surrendering Sunflora in and around this goddamn hellscape of a town. (/j, it's very pretty, but I am a salty girl.)

Now, some of these are notably easier to figure out than others, but just for clarity's sake... one to thirty-three, a breakdown. (Of the numbers, not me. Although you pull any more of this shit Brassie, it will be my personal breakdown.) I would screenshot every one, but Tumblr's 10-pic limit is having none of it, so I'll show off the more interesting ones at points and note the rest in text. I will also be looking at them from the perspective of being the Sunflora - the direction the sculpture itself faces.

Now, bear in mind... these are allegorical. I've had to surmise what they mean in most cases, but... that's what an artist does. Art asks you to consider the artist's intent, to interpret what they meant by location, form, colour... whatever the piece entails. It's why we have art critics, why we have museums and art galleries - and all of these point to one singular conclusion: Brassius? Super fucking gay. If you've ever made a fic or a piece of art that hides small details or leaves things just a little to one's imagination, you've been Brassius with these sculptures.

... And frankly, why the hell else are they where they are? These are chosen spots. Most of them aren't even central, or helpful where they are, without an alternate dialogue to them.

So, let's begin!

One: just across and to the left of Two, and directly facing Glaseado Mountain. Hass leading him upwards, to literal higher heights. Doesn't get any grander or higher than Glaseado.

Two: atop a cliff face, and it's already pic time!

This one has a few things to say. First, it's overlooking the gym, second it's pointing directly south if you look at my mini-map. This is one of several that faces south, which is valid - most of Sunflora's dex entries tell us that it loves facing the sun, and in terms of planetary orbit, south is the direction in the day where the sun is at its height... which is telling, when Hassel led Brass out of depression, being his literal sunshine.

Three: right beneath the centre of the maze. Hass guiding him to the heart, his 'core' - helping him find meaning in life.

Four: also in the maze, but near the entrance. A guiding hand when one is lost, at a genuine 'dead end'. A little girl in another dead end of this maze comments how lost she is.

Five: is actually hilarious.

Sir are you fucking kidding me I will fight you in an Every Wich Way parking lot right now

Six: facing local small cliffs. Climbing the smaller hills first is a notable method of depression recovery, and given that Brass' health issues also seem physical, this is a small, easy-to-climb hill - a step to feeling healthier.

Seven and Eight: greeting you as you walk into town for the first time from the direction of Mesagoza. A feeling of comfort and homeliness, which two men with such a connection clearly have.

Nine: has a similar vibe - straight ahead of Seven and Eight, the first thing to greet you in the central plaza. The kind of welcome feeling Brass gets from Hass.

Ten and Eleven: are very obvious. These two directly face the maze, and are facing one another on opposite sides. Trust, warmth, familiarity. Interestingly, one faces east, and one west - where the sun rises and the sun sets. Hassel's always there for him.

Twelve: faces the way out to Levincia beyond, because welcoming works from either side of town.

Thirteen and Fourteen: are both either underneath the gym arena, or very nearly underneath, and Fourteen looks straight at the gym. What did I say about these two taking one another into battle?

Fifteen: is facing the pool... for a man who cries a lot. No further explanation required, but this is one of my favourites for how adorable and accepting it is on Brass' part.

Sixteen, Seventeen and Eighteen: the first of the climbing frame Sunfloras, and all of them are in a line, facing the gym. See Thirteen and Fourteen, but... these ones are also elevated, as though Hassel is watching over him during battle. Another gesture of support. They also happen to overlook a Heterarchical Loop, which we'll revisit in a mo...

Nineteen: is on the side of the climbing frame, staring at the Sunflora field used during the gym challenge. Given that it's also staring at said field's house, this is one of two things - emotional vigilance, or home comforts. It's also beside a version of The Harvest, which we know is part-Hass too.

Twenty: climbing frame, above Sixteen, Seventeen and Eighteen - an even higher guardian, and also one that can see the arena. This is also directly across from the Paradoxical Popper, and coupled with what I just mentioned about the Heterarchical Loop... well, this brilliant piece of meta that you've probably already read (top job, fellow theorist <3) shows us that yeah, these old pieces by an unnamed artist are probably also Brassie's, which makes this completely adorable - we know from Art (4) that Brass considers his old pieces 'shallow trash'. By his masterpieces overlooking them, they act as a reminder - that Hassel believes in him, that he can do brilliant things - that his new work has a purpose. Even if they aren't his old works, the fact that he places them literally higher up shows that he has more respect for something inspired by Hassel than any other works.

Twenty-One and Twenty-Two: the last of the climbing frame ones, and again, at height, and directly facing the gym. Just behind these is a climbing wall, which heads up towards a dragon-coloured Harvest. Considering that we can infer that Hassel influenced Surrendering Sunflora first, as Brass tells us that he created it directly after Hass saved him, having to head up to a Harvest coloured with Hass' type is really quite sweet as it was likely a result of their connection later down the line. But regardless of order, these two are again indicative of Hass' care for him.

Twenty-Three: is... well, at the back of someone's house. What's fun about this one is that A. there is literally no reason for this to be here if it's simply about showing off an art piece, and B. even in the daytime, as you can see, this spot? Perpetually in the shade. Even when Brassius feels dark, there's Hassel - his permanent sunshine, making sure he never feels too alone, or abandoned in a place no one would look for him.

Another of my favourites - the symbolism here is gorgeous.

Twenty-Four and Twenty-Five: greet you if you walk into town from the Levincia side, which is very much along the same lines as Seven and Eight - a warm, sunshine welcome, a peacefulness of spirit.

Twenty-Six: stares directly at the side of the Go-for-Broke Grill... which just so happens to be where one finds Encounter Power: Dragon food. Goddamn gay people and their apples...

Twenty-Seven: is behind the Grill, and looking straight at the Sunflora field. The Sunflora field is not only a core part of the gym test, but the specific direction of this one points at the house attached to the field. So not only is this field full of sunshine, it's overlooked by it, too. Anything directed towards a house also speaks of hearth and home - a comfort, a feeling of literally being 'at home' in someone's presence.

Twenty-Eight and Twenty-Nine: stand as guardians to the Sunflora field, right on either side of its gate. Now, for this one, I would like to draw your attention to a piece of dialogue Hass gives you during the League:

"I am Hassel, the dragon guarding the final fortress of the Elite test."

Whilst this field is no fortress, these ones nevertheless stand taller than any other Surrendering Sunflora in the town - the 'protectors' of the field of sunshine, the warmth and the light Brass has experienced beneath Hass. Now, given that Hass also tells you in the League that his job as a teacher is to guide students and watch them grow... well, here we are. He's helped Brassius grow, prosper, and find his inner light, and he'll protect him at all costs from that darkness. And size matters, here - these are big, they stand out, therefore they are deliberately important. This is Brassius' greatest impression of his love - as a protector, and a guide to the light.

Thirty: stands in the Sunflora field itself. This one is notably smaller than the gatekeepers, the usual size of those around town, and is just across from a dragon Harvest in the same field. Again, why not put your emotional sunshine in a field of your actual ones? (And why not do it twice, y'know, because you're massively dramatic...)

Thirty-One: sees our final return to the climbing frame - this is one of the ones I missed originally, because it's directly beneath it. There's another one down here too, right beneath the Popper, but as they mean the same thing as Twenty-Three, we'll count them together - a location always dark and in shade, illuminated. They're also hemmed in by the wooden walls of the climbing frame - they are, quite literally, trapped - like one might be in their own mind, during depression, without a source of light.

Thirty-Two: is probably my favourite of them all. This harks back to number One, overlooking Glaseado, except...

Well, this looks at another mountain, and it's literally not in Artazon - it's the one I showed you in the very first photo of this post. The location box for Artazon doesn't even crop up. It is, however, facing direct south, but... what's it doing here?

In facing the sun's peak, this one exists to show us that there isn't a mountain Hassel can't help Brassius overcome, however high. Look at where you end up, if you follow this cliff directly from this Sunflora:

The highest peak you can see all of Artazon clearly from, considerably overlooking every other Sunflora that already overlooks core parts of the town important to Brassie. You know what they call that level of symbolism? Fucking love.

And finally, we end on Thirty-Three, which... well. I think we all know what a Pokemon Center does. It heals, it brings your Pokemon back from the brink of death - and who do we know, who's done that for Brassius?

... Pokemon Centers are free, and in this generation, even feature a kindly Nurse Joy who will offer you guidance and assistance through the big, wide, open world of Paldea from the goodness of her own heart.

... This whole town is a love letter. At every turn, you run into a new page of narrative through these Sunfloras: you slot together another meaning, you see the hearts of two men woven into every little stitch. And whether or not this was Brassius' intention, it was almost certainly the intention of those who made him. This is what art directors do, this is what devs hide for you to find. This is Pokemon's ultimate Easter egg, and it is fucking beautiful.

I don't know any more than you lovely people do if they're ever going to officially confirm Hassius as a romantic duo - in love, married, whatever. And I'd love to see it as much as you all would, but... well, I already have. Here it is, right in front of us, if only we're willing to look. Of all the meta I've posted on these two so far, this... yeah, this is the most gay and glorious of them all. And I've still got more to say, just... not on this. We're good here.

... Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to do that killing thing I mentioned earlier, though maybe after a nap... sir you must die by my own hand for CRIMES AGAINST MY FREE TIME. (jk, king. Love you, keep doing what you're doing. I am but an average poster without your delicious homosexuality. xoxo)

[dontfeeltoohot]

Have 4.6k of soft, sick paramedic!Eddie and nurse!Steve. 

This should all be pretty accurate when it comes to medical jargon/paramedic+emt stuff. 

Let me know what you think! :3 

X X X He’s tired, which isn’t unusual, but this isn’t his normal kind of tired that’s helped by coffee and stealing some of Henderson’s breakfast. No, this is a bone deep tired that’s making him want to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over his head. As he pulls into the station’s parking lot, the twenty eight year old yawns for what feels like the tenth time in so many minutes, rubs his eyes, and then gets out, fixing his pullover. 

He’s worked hard for the navy quarter zip; not the actual sweatshirt itself, but for the title embroidered on it. On the left, a few inches below the collar; which has a ‘five years of service’ pin, reads ‘E.Munson’. On the opposite side, ‘Hawkins Fire and Rescue’. It’s the back that matters most- in big, white letters, is the word ‘PARAMEDIC’. It allows everyone on scene to know he’s the most knowledgeable, the highest in charge when it comes to any medical situation.

Making his way inside the large brick building, Eddie says hi to a few of the guys from A shift, throwing his black tactical backpack in one of the five, small rooms at the back of the station. It pays to be early, especially when private quarters are hard to come by. He’s sure in the end he’ll let Chrissy have the bed, and he’ll probably fall asleep in one of the large recliners they’ve got in the common room. 

Walking back out, he goes to the cupboard above the stove and grabs his black mug that has ‘Eddie’s, Touch and Be Ketamine-d’ printed on it, a gift from an old chief. Thankful that A shift’s already started coffee, the long haired man pours himself a cup, splashes some creamer in it, then leans against the wall, waiting for more of his coworkers to file in. 

Henderson, Wheeler, and Sinclair come in first, all talking far too loudly, the youngest four at the station. Fucking fire fighters and their disregard for anyone but themselves. Swallowing and wincing as the hot coffee burns his throat, Eddie nods at them, unable to help the smile that falls on his face when Henderson races up to him.

“Eddie! Dude! Did you see the new Game of Thr-“ 

“I’m gonna stop you right there Dustybun. If you so much as say a word about anything that’s happened, I will kick your balls so hard-“ 

“Okay, okay. Got it. No talking about it,” Dustin gives a thumbs up and heads back to the other three. 

That kid needs some downers or something, he’s far too energetic at six am to be considered normal. Shaking his head to himself, Eddie takes another sip of coffee and turns the tv on that’s hanging on the wall, turning it to the news station. Chief Hopper comes in, Captain Powell and Lieutenant Callahan right behind him. The paramedic salutes them in greeting. Finally, Chrissy, Joyce and Murray walk in, making Eddie stand a little straighter. 

“Morning,” Joyce smiles, her own cup of coffee in her usual to-go cup held tight in her hands. 

“Morning Joyce,” Eddie smiles genuinely. He’s ridden with the other paramedic a few times, and he always enjoys her company around the station. She’s the mom of B shift, and it’s no secret she likes to mother hen Eddie the most. 

“You ready for another day in paradise, my friends?” 

“Paradise must have a different meaning in your mind, Murray,” Chrissy jokes. Eddie puts a hand on her arm and smirks. 

“I’m going to go check how much shit A shift moved,” Eddie informs his partner, going and grabbing an iPad from the office. He knows she’ll want to get some coffee first. “Oh! I got a room for you, by the way,” he adds, earning a large smile from the petite girl. 

“If only he weren’t gay, you two would be a power couple” Murray chimes in, Eddie already half way out the door. 

The bays are warm from the heat being blown in, so the curly haired man pushes his sleeves up, revealing numerous tattoos covering his arms and even one on the skin between his thumb and pointer finger. Pulling his hair up and out of his face as well, he opens the back of Ambulance 12, sniffling from the sudden temperature change. 

As always, a few things have been switched around from where they should go, making Eddie grumble to himself as he right’s A shifts wrongs. More specifically, he’s cleaning up Jason fucking Carver’s attempt at getting under his skin, and he refuses to admit it’s working. All the guy cares about is getting recognition, Eddie’s sure he doesn’t actually care about helping save lives. 

As he continues, he feels his nose getting stuffy, making him cough when he sniffles. Ugh. If he’s getting sick he’s going to riot. Halfway through the checklist, Chrissy hops in, sitting on the stretcher. She’s eating a nutrigrain bar and Eddie wants to tell her he’s proud of her but also doesn’t want to draw attention to it. 

“How much damage did Carver do?” 

“That man’s going to see me at our next station meeting and I’m going to go off on him I swear to god Chrissy,” Eddie growls, which only makes him cough. Fuck. 

“Easy tiger, I hate him just as much as you do, but I don’t need to have a floater for two weeks because someone can’t control their anger, yeah?” 

He knows she’s right. 

“Fine.” 

The EMT peeks at the checklist and goes to grab what they need, while Eddie counts how many collars they have. Sniffling, he rubs his eyes and reaches for his coffee, hoping to chase away the ache slowly starting to appear in his throat. A minute later, Chrissy reappears with the supplies, as well as a few extra boxes of gloves, tossing them in the cab.

“So, how’s everything going at the garage?” 

A loud bang interrupts Eddie before he can reply. 

“God DAMN it I’m going to smash Ballard’s head against a wall if he doesn’t replace the oxygen tank next time. Does he think my and my physical prowess can lift this shit?” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be able to lift at least 159, Murray?” Chrissy calls out, laughing. 

“Yeah but not completely dead weight that’s metal!” 

Eddie sighs and stands, jumping out of the truck to help the older man. 

“Quit complaining man, at least you’re not the one who had the bariatric guy on the seventh floor last shift,” he glares, making Murray snap his mouth shut. 

As he and Murray start moving the tank to the side of the truck, a tickle blooms in the back of his head. Clenching his jaw, the paramedic gets six feet away from their destination before he freezes 

“Hh! Hold ohhn-“ he sets his side of the air supply down, pulling the collar of his sweater up against his face. 

“hih’GHNgKtuhew! ihhKhTshh’EW! hihEhIKtsch’UHEW!” 

“If you’re sick, I don’t want your germs,” Murray scrunches his nose. 

“I’m not sick, Jesus, can’t a guy just sneeze?” 

“Yes, he can. But you- you don’t sneeze unless you’re around cats, dust, or you’re sick. And since there aren’t any cats and we dust pretty well here thanks to how anal Brenner can be on his damn visits, there’s only one explanation, rockstar.” 

Huffing, Eddie picks the entire tank up by himself, then drops it into the space it’s supposed to go. 

“You’re welcome,” he turns back to his own truck, rolling his eyes. 

“Bless you,” Chrissy gives him a smile when he gets in the truck. 

“Thanks,” he nods, sniffling. 

The paramedic can feel congestion starting to really accumulate in his head, more than just a stuffy head now. It’s as if the sneezes knocked something loose, opening up the floodgates. Clearing his throat, he leans back, sitting in the captain's chair. 

“Robin should be working today,” he gives her a smirk. 

“So should Steve,” she retorts smugly. 

“Base 1- we’ve got a code 2, 10 year old female, possible broken bone, alert and conscious. Address is 4928 Seller Lane, Hawkins Elementary. No posing threats.” 

Eddie grabs the walkie hanging from the holster around him. 

“We got it!” Eddie calls out to the two. “Ambulance 12 copies,” he says into the walkie. 

Chrissy closes the doors, and Eddie hops into the passenger seat, letting the woman drive. He’s tired and needs to wake up more before driving a metal death trap on wheels. Adrenaline is already starting to buzz through him, just like any other call. As soon as they pull out, he grabs the walkie again. 

“Ambulance 12 in route, 6:38 am.” 

“Copy that Ambulance 12.” 

***

“-shhew! snfsnf! Jesus Christ….ihHhNGkTschuhEW!” 

“Bless you,” Chrissy says, keeping her hands on the stretcher as Eddie takes one off to cover his face with his collar.

“You got her?” 

“Yeah,” the star berry blonde tosses him the iPad, info sheet already pulled up. 

Eddie looks up and feels his heart beat a little faster at the sight of Steve Harrington. He’s got navy scrubs on today, ones that fit him well, showing off his arms and ass perfectly. Swallowing and grimacing at the feeling, the paramedic slides up to the nurses station, a smile on his lips. 

“Harrington, missed seeing you around on Monday. Not that I don’t love Nancy,” he throws a smile towards the woman sitting next to him, who merely laughs. “But…I missed seeing your pretty face.” 

“Was getting over a wicked cold, you wouldn’t have wanted to see me, trust me,” Steve laughs. 

Raking his eyes over the nurse, he watches a blush fall faintly over Steve’s cheeks. Beautiful, Eddie thinks. He’s so damn beautiful. 

“On contraire, mon petit prince, I am a sucker for sick, germy boys. Why do you think I took this job?” 

Nancy laughs and Robin, who’s just walking up, gives him a confused look. 

“Right,” Steve shakes his head, getting flustered. “Who’s the patient?” 

“Damn, yeah, that’s a thing. Addison Myers, 10 years old. Was walking into school and fell over the curb. I’d bet a date with you she has a greenstick ankle fracture. Didn’t feel any complete abnormalities but it’s swollen and tender,” he rattles off. “BP is 112/68, heart rate is-snf! uhh..74, respirations we’re 13.”

“Actually 13 or bullshit 13?” Nancy chimes in, always in resident nurse mode. Eddie flips her off discreetly. 

“Actually 13, thank you. I take my job as a medical professional v-snf! very seriously,” he rubs his nose with his wrist, clearing his throat. Steve looks at him curiously, but Eddie ignores it. 

Turning his iPad, he hands it to Steve, who starts signing off on the paperwork. As the nurse does, Eddie sniffles and leans against the counter, yawning. Chrissy comes out from room 3 with a now empty stretcher, laughing uncomfortably at something someone is saying. He can hear it in her tone, so he pushes off the counter and looks at the other three. 

“Be right back.” As he gets closer, he knows the culprit immediately, and his fists clench. 

“Hargrove, how ya doin’ man?” Eddie comes up and throws an arm around the nurse who smells vaguely of cigarettes. 

“Munson,” Billy smiles, the leering smile he gives to all the girls. 

“Yeah yeah, I know I’m hot. However, I don’t appreciate you flirting with my partner, so if you could back off,” he stares at the other with an easy, light smile.

Everyone around them is staring, and Chrissy comes to stand next to him. 

“I’m just being friendly,” Billy laughs, almost condescendingly. 

“Right, and I’m the queen of England. Just lay off and we can forget this ever happened.” 

Suddenly, Hargrove is in his face, their noses almost touching. The scent of smoke makes his nose itch, but other than clenching his jaw, he can’t do much, not when the man is this up in his space. 

“You’re pathetic,” Billy whispers, spoken as if the words are venom.

“And why’s that? Because I’m not fawning all over you and your outdated handlebar mustache? Look, I’ve got people to actually save. So why don’t you go back to wiping asses and getting drinks for old ladies, and let us big boys do our jobs.” 

“You little-“ 

“What’s going on here?“ 

The two men step away as if they’ve been burned. Doctor Owens is standing there with confusion written all over his face. Billy gives the man his most innocent look. 

“We were  just discussing how to properly insert an airway.” 

“Actually, Hargrove here was making my partner uncomfortable, so I told him to leave her alone. Everyone here can attest to that,” Eddie shrugs, smirking when Billy’s eyes go wide. 

Owens looks at Billy and frowns. 

“Hargrove, I’d like to speak to you alone.” 

“Alright handsome, mind if I get that iPad back?” Eddie turns to Steve, who does as he’s asked. 

“God he’s going to be insufferable the rest of the day,” Robin groans. “But I’m glad you put him in his place.” 

“Just looking out for Chris. Jackass had it coming sooner or later,” the curly haired man assures, rubbing at his nose again. 

The scent of smoke is still lingering. When the tickle doesn’t want to recede, Eddie sniffles, which seems to do the trick. Pulling his collar up, the paramedic turns away from everyone. 

“huhINGkTschhew! iiGkSHhew! ahiiGShew! Snf!! SnfSNF!“ 

Both Robin and Nancy bless him as he sniffles and drops his collar down. Steve is staring at him again, making him squirm slightly. The look is intense and makes Eddie feel as though he’s staring into his soul. Nancy grabs a tissue box and the man snags a couple, wiping his nose and shoving them into his tac-pants. As he follows Chrissy out the door to grab a new blanket for their stretcher, he misses the way Nancy and Robin start teasing Steve, who’s blushing and glaring. 

Opening the back doors, Eddie watches Chrissy move the stretcher back into position and then raise the wheels up off the ground. 

“I’ll push it,” Eddie steps in, chuckling when his partner huffs and goes to get into the driver's side of the truck. When he hears the click and lock of the stretcher, he shuts the back doors and moves to the passenger seat, taking one of the tissues out from his pants, wiping his nose again, feeling it start to get runny. 

“Steve is so smitten with you,” Chrissy smirks, plugging her phone back up. 

“Nah, he’s jus-snf! just being friendly. I’m pretty sure he and Robin are a thing.” 

“She’s told me before they’re strictly platonic,” the girl shakes her head, driving back onto the main road. 

“Still don’t think Harrington is gay,” the long haired man sniffles into the tissue, rubbing his nose. 

“Are you okay? You sound kind of stuffy. I know that awful cold is going around, a few people on c-shift had it last week.” 

“Peachy keen, jellybean. Don’t worry so much,” he waves off, even though her words hold some truth. His throat’s starting to truly hurt, more than just a low ache. His head somehow feels even stuffier, now that his adrenaline is coming down, and exhaustion is hitting him hard. 

They get back to the station, where both firetrucks are out. At least it means some quiet, which also means a nap. Joyce and Murray are sitting at the long table by the windows talking when they walk inside. Chrissy puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, looking at him. 

“I’ll do the paperwork,” she informs and Jesus, he knows it’s a running joke of them being perfect for each other but he thinks if he wasn’t gay he really would kiss Chrissy Cunningham right now. 

“You don’t have t-“ 

“Least I can do for you after you saved me from Billy.” 

“Hargrove?” Murray butts into the conversation. 

“Yep. He was coming onto me. Eddie got him in trouble with Owens,” she grins, bouncing on the balls of her feet. 

“Good for you Eddie. That guy always gives me the creeps. He’s probably just overcompensating because he has a small dick, at least that’s what a few nurses say,” Joyce nods, sipping on her bottle of coke.

All three other first responders react simultaneously. Murray chokes on his redbull, Chrissy snorts and Eddie’s mouth drops open. Joyce Byers is an enigma, and the long haired paramedic loves her for it. He thinks about his own mother, and all the shit they went through together before she died. She hadn’t been as bold as Joyce, but she had been just as kind. Heart aching just a little, Eddie shakes his head and rubs his face. 

“Well, he was being a dick, and I told him to back off. Owens just happened to be passing by. Honestly if he hadn’t been I’m pretty sure Billy was about to try and deck me,” he shrugged, sniffling quietly. 

“Good for you, he needs a good ego check, or maybe a good write up,” Murray says thoughtfully. 

“You okay Eddie?” Joyce’s kind voice rings out, and he turns to look at her, their hair practically identical aside from his curls. 

“Yeah, just a little tired, didn’t sleep well last night, is all.” 

Before Joyce can reply, her radio crackles to life, informing Ambulance 13 of a middle aged woman suffering from chest pains. Murray hops up and salutes him, Eddie smirking. 

“Have fun you two!” 

Heading to the back of the station, Eddie sniffles harder, now that no one is around to think it’s gross or worry over him. It makes his nose itch, but try as he may, the paramedic can’t quite get at the tickle that’s growing. Pausing right outside the door, the man lifts his collar up, nostrils twitching teasingly. 

“hh! Ugh…snfSNF! hhh! hih’iiGKtSCH! ehIKSHHuhEW!” A few moments pass as he goes into the small room where a single bed occupies most of the space. 

“IHKISHEW! Guh,” Eddie yanks a tissue from his pocket and blows his nose, grimacing at the soupy, thick sound. Maybe he’s getting a cold. 

Laying on top of the bed and the blanket, moving the pillow so Chrissy can still use it, the man drops his head onto the uncomfortable mattress and shuts his eyes, sleep pulling him under.

Thirty seven minutes later, he’s pulled from his dream about a certain nurse and his navy scrubs when his radio sounds. Vaguely disoriented from the sudden interruption, Eddie gets up and stretches, only half listening to the crackly dispatcher’s voice. He feels worse, he realizes as he walks down the hallway to the common room where Chrissy is waiting for him. Scrubbing at his face, they head out and into the ambulance. No rest for the wicked. 

Of course it’s a CPR call. They’ve got no Lucas machine like ambo 13 does, and as Eddie does his seventh set of compressions, he’s starting to wonder if he can steal it off the truck. Chrissy’s talking to dispatch about needing Med Air, they’re not going to get the guy to the hospital when they have to stop every time the AED needs to reanalyze a rhythm. Ten minutes and 8 more sets of compressions, 4 shocks later, they’re transferring care to the helicopter team, and Eddie’s arms feel like jello. 

“Ambulance 12, we’ve got a GSW around the corner from you, are you able to take it? Police on scene, scene has been deemed safe.” 

“Copy that, ambulance 12 in route,” Eddie coughs to his side after clicking the button to mute. 

From there, it feels like they get back to back to back calls, no resting in between. Eddie’s driving as Chrissy sits in the back with an elderly woman who’s fallen and requested to be transported due to hip pain. They go over a particularly large bump and Chrissy huffs, making Eddie look in the rearview mirror and laugh. 

“Sorry Jean, Eddie’s driving skills are about as good as his people skills,” the EMT jokes, making the woman laugh. 

“Hey! I’ll have you know I get shout outs all the time from patients,” he calls back in a playful voice. “The ladies love me!” 

Eddie thinks he can hear the woman say ‘I’m sure they do’, but he’s suddenly preoccupied with an itch in the back of his nose, traveling through his sinuses. Sniffling does more harm than good, and as he rolls to a stop at a red light, he aims to the side, into his shoulder. 

“iiHKSHHhuew! snfsnf! hihGKTshhUHEW! hah’ITSCHhh’ew!” 

Chrissy blesses him, and he throws a thanks back towards her, yanking a tissue from the box they’ve got in the middle compartment, rubbing at his nose and then wiping it, still sniffling afterwards. Coughing into his fist a couple of times, Eddie pulls into the Ambulance bay at the hospital, still rubbing at his nose. His head’s started hurting, and with how he still can’t shake this chill, the paramedic briefly wonders if he’s running a fever. 

Steve had been on his lunch break during their last transfer, and when Eddie sees the man’s signature styled hair, he feels himself smile, despite how shitty he’s starting to feel. Nancy tells them to put the woman in room eleven, and Eddie nods, keeping his hands on the stretcher. 

“Now Ms. Jean, no more falls alright? As much as I love seeing your pretty face, I want you safe more than anything,” the twenty eight year old smiles warmly, chuckling as the elderly woman blushes. 

“Thank you sweetheart, I’ll try not to.” 

“Good. Chrissy’s going to get you to sign a couple things on this iPad, all you have to do is use your finger,” he explains, making sure the woman understands before sliding out of the room. 

Heading to the nurses station, Steve, who’s working on typing something, looks up and grins, eyes crinkling slightly. Eddie feels warmth spread through his body. A second later, he’s turning away, snatching a few thin tissues from the box on the counter. 

“ihGNktchUHEW hah’IKshhh’EW! S-Sorry, snf!” 

“Bless y-“ 

“iHGKktshew!” 

“Bless you,” Steve frowns. “You sound like I did last week. You feeling alright?” 

Eddie turns back, wiping his nose as he shrugs. Head heavy with congestion, every blink feels sluggish. He can feel mess accumulating under his nose again already, so he swipes at it then finally lowers the tissues. 

“I was gonna make fun of you for taking a sick day for a silly cold, but maybe you were the smart one,” Eddie’s voice is nasally, consonants rounded. It’s an easy way for anyone to pick up on the fact he’s unwell. 

“You should grab some meds on the way back to the station. You’ve still got, what, another 11hours?” 

They both grimace. 

“Don’t remind me,” the paramedic groans, rubbing his face. “God, I feel like a fucking biohazard,” he adds, pumping hand sanitizer onto his palms and rubbing them together. 

“Good thing you get another three days off,” Steve says optimistically, and Eddie’s never been more grateful for his 24 on 72 off schedule.

Glancing at the clock, Eddie frowns even harder. “All of you are off in fifteen minutes,” he deflates. He’d rather not have to do intake with anyone else. The paramedic enjoys Nancy, Robin and Steve and their constant banter and want to include he and Chrissy. 

“Yep, and I’ve got a hot date with a bath,” Nancy sighs dreamily. 

“Ugh, I have to study for the stupid final in pharmacology,” Robin growls, throwing her pen down. 

Eddie remembers having to do pharmacology. Half the shit they don’t even use, though it’s probably different for nurses. Steve looks like he’s in thought, so the curly haired man sniffles and then looks to see where his partner’s at. 

“I’ll see you guys around.” 

“Feel better,” Nancy looks at him with sympathy. 

“Thanks Nance. See ya Birdie, see ya Stevie,” he smiles at them. 

Steve nods, but then stands, walking around the counter.

“Here, follow me for a sec.” 

Curious, Eddie tells Chrissy he’ll be right back, then follows the brown eyed man. They arrive at a door, the plaque reading ‘nurses lounge’. Steve leads him inside, and his eyes dart around. There’s a few couches and chairs, tables, a coffee machine and television. Steve grabs a black backpack from the corner, rummaging around. A second later, he produces a little blister pack of pills and an unopened water bottle.

“It’s just DayQuil, thought you might benefit from one,” he explains, twisting the cap off of the water bottle and handing it to Eddie, who takes it, eyes wide with surprise. A pill is popped from the blister pack into his hand, and then put back into Steve’s backpack. 

“Thank you,” Eddie swallows the pill, grimacing at how it stings. He doesn’t realize Steve has more until something soft, wrapped in plastic is put into his free hand. 

“These are probably softer than whatever shit you have at the station.” 

A travel pack of tissues. Eddie kind of wants to surge forward and kiss the man, but then he remembers how germy he is. Right. 

“Don’t you need them?” 

“Nah, I’m all better now, just have them in my backpack for emergencies. And I think this counts as an emergency. Your nose is like, bright red man.” 

“Thanks Steve, this means a lot, making sure I don’t die a terrible death from the plague.” 

“No problem. Just doing my civic duty, wouldn’t want a death on my conscience,” he teases, and Eddie wonders if Steve feels the sudden intimacy that’s washed over the air around them. 

The paramedics about to turn to walk back out when he decides to cowboy up and do something about this damn crush he’s had for over a year. Maybe it’s this cold, maybe it’s how soft Steve looks, or maybe it’s just the need to be closer. 

“Hey Steve? Would you want to get some dinner with me? When I’m not a giant germ factory, I mean.” 

Steve’s eyes widen a little, and Eddie braces himself for rejection that never comes. Instead, the nurse steps closer and nods, taking one of Eddie’s hands.

“Yeah, I’d love that. Kind of was hoping for it, if I’m honest.” 

They exchange numbers and by the time he’s back out and sliding into the truck, Chrissy is looking at him expectantly. 

“Please tell me you two kissed.” 

“I’m germy as hell Chrissy.” 

“Ugh, he’s had it anyway, who cares?” 

“…we’re going on a date, once I’m not a biohazard,” Eddie admits, smiling so much it makes his cheeks hurt. 

“No way! Oh my god!” The pitch of her squeal makes him wince and she looks guilty. “Sorry, sorry. You and Steve Harrington. What a couple.” 

“It’s a date.” 

“It’s a stepping stone to boyfriends, Eddie.”  

The rest of his shift goes by in a haze. He may feel like shit, but he also feels oddly light and giddy. Joyce is just as excited as Chrissy is when the news gets to her, hugging him tightly. He tries to pull back immediately. 

“I’m sick, I don’t want to get you-“ 

“I have kids, Eddie. Sometimes, you just have to give a hug, no matter the circumstances. Now, go lay down. We can take the next few calls for you. You kind of look like shit.” 

[magniloquent-raven]

(pt1 here)

billy grew up afraid of finding his soulmate.

when he was eight his father caught him trying to wash nail polish off with soap and a hand towel.

he’d heard girls at school saying it was what you did when your soulmate was a boy. you were supposed to paint yourself up all pretty and find the person who matched. and it was easy enough to sneak into the vanity and steal a bottle of his mother’s nail polish. but once the paint dried he realized it would be impossible to hide from his father, and he panicked.

his mother showed him the bottle of nail polish remover after neil left. dabbed some on a cotton ball to rub at the thick layer of paint. she was silent, kneeling on the floor in front of him cradling his sprained wrist while he sat on the edge of the tub and cried.

they both had questions, but neither of them got answers.

it took billy months to work up the courage to try again.

he wasn’t sure why he was bothering, at first. he knew he couldn’t look for his soulmate the traditional way. and he was constantly terrified that his father would find the supplies he’d started hoarding. it seemed like more risk than reward, and yet. he couldn’t stop himself.

every time he was allowed to wander off in a store alone he’d slip something into his pocket. a tube of lip gloss. a compact full of shiny powders. he wasn’t even sure what some of it was, he just liked the colours. liked the pictures they hung alongside the displays. he wanted to look like that. beautiful.

and in his heart of hearts, he wanted the boy who was out there waiting for him to know he existed. whether they’d be able to find each other or not.

he’s more careful with this than he was with the nail polish. his father works saturday nights, and his mother always visits their neighbour while he’s at work. despite having the house to himself he locks his bedroom door.

the first thing he tries is the watermelon lip gloss. it’s sticky, and the wand doesn’t fit in his hand comfortably, but once he’s smeared it on he feels...good. he likes the way it catches the light. likes the way it smells. he looks at himself in the mirror and likes seeing something different.

the high doesn’t last long, it inevitably gives way to paranoia, anxiety that has him glancing at the locked door every thirty seconds, heart pounding, wondering if just maybe his father will get home from work early, and he jumps at every sound, hearing boots thudding on the porch and car doors slamming and anything that could be neil coming through the door.

cleaning himself up is hard. panic makes his hands shake, his eyes well up. he drops everything on the floor when he tries to tuck the bag away. and he has to spend twenty minutes with his back to his bedroom door getting his breathing under control when he’s finished.

but he does it again the following saturday. and the one after that.

for five months he does this. locks himself away with his stolen treasures and lets himself live a little. it gets easier as time goes on. and his mind wanders sometimes. to a future where he gets to share this with someone. the boy out there who’s supposed to love him one day.

it’s a small bubble of a dream. one he doesn’t spend too much time dwelling on. not when there’s neil’s voice in his head, telling him that no one could love a fucking freak, ‘cause fags don’t get real soulmates anyways.

he wants and he wishes, but the more he thinks about it the more he doubts. he’s never gotten a mark from his soulmate, and even if he did some day, what if his father’s right, and his “soulmate” doesn’t want him or makes him miserable or...worse.

so he does his makeup for himself.

until, like all good things in his life, his father ruins it.

he never found out what set neil off initially, something going wrong at work maybe, or the martial strife of the week getting to him. whatever it was that started it, neil eventually decided billy should bear the brunt of the fallout.

so he went through his things. said billy’d been acting cagey lately, and he was going to find out why.

and then found the makeup bag stuffed into an old sweater in his closet.

it was ugly. the things neil said that day would play on repeat in billy’s head for years afterwards. the scars his belt left on billy’s back were nothing in comparison.

the next saturday came and went. billy spent the evening curled up under a blanket not bothering to wipe away the tears dripping down his face.

by morning he’s resolved to forget the whole thing. to put it behind him. because it was stupid, and risky and childish and maybe his father was right. he’s almost convinced himself. and then he notices ink on his arm, as he reaches up to rub his eyes. messy scrawl, i bet you looked pretty crookedly written up his forearm.

he didn’t think he was able to cry any more, but he manages it.

for the first time his soulmate isn’t just a concept, or a what-if, he’s...a person. he’s a real person out there somewhere. someone who doesn’t even know billy and still wanted to reach out, to offer comfort. it’s more than he’s gotten from anyone else. even his mother. who he knows loves him, and she does her best to protect him, but when she found out about his makeup stash she just looked sad, and she’s said nothing to him about it.

but his soulmate…

can never, ever meet neil.

the thought hits him right in the chest.

whoever he is, he cares, he’s good. and neil breaks good things.

billy falls asleep that night tracing the empty space where his soulmate’s message used to be, wrapped up in worries and dreams, and terrified for someone he’s never met.

the doodles that come and go over the years are terrifying and exhilarating and billy manages to hide every single one from his father. they only ever show up during the day, and they don’t linger. something billy is both grateful for and resentful of.

sometimes he’ll watch other boys’ hands in class. check them for drawings. he thinks he’s being careful, but a girl in his chem class, becca, catches him. she says it’s only because she knew what to look for. they share a cigarette under the bleachers and she tells him about a girl who likes green eyeshadow and writes homework reminders on her wrists using stars instead of bullet points.

it takes billy six months and a couple shots of tequila to tell her about watermelon lip gloss and bet you’re pretty and they both cry when he starts to wonder if his soulmate will be disappointed that he isn’t a girl.

on a rainy april afternoon she asks him to go to a gay bar with her. he tells his father he’s going on a date. she tells her’s that she had to reschedule a tutoring session and it’ll run pretty late.

they wait til it’s dark and get ready in a dingy gas station bathroom. when she’s smearing on her eyeliner she catches sight of his face in the cloudy mirror. he wasn’t going to ask her for anything. he wouldn’t have brought it up. the twinge in his heart and a hollow feeling of longing aren’t anything new, he can deal.

he feels and empty kind of rage every time old, well-meaning relatives give max girly lip gloss kits and eyeshadow pallets and shit normal preteen girls who care about finding their soulmates actually appreciate. she always rolls her eyes and throws them away. susan will fish them out of the trash sometimes, and leave them under the bathroom sink, like if max just sees them there she’ll suddenly give a shit and start using them. like them being there does anything but taunt billy with what he can’t have.

neil watches him like a fucking hawk every time that shit comes into the house. and max doesn’t fucking care. doesn’t notice.

but becca offers.

and.

he’s not about to say no.

he should’ve said no.

it feels good at first, like it used to, it feels like freedom and he likes what he sees when he looks in the mirror, and he kisses a boy for the first time and it isn’t fireworks but it’s something, and he thinks maybe it’s going to be a good night, but then…

neil is waiting on the curb outside becca’s house. they were heading there first, because her parents wouldn’t notice, she said it would be fine, she has makeup remover he can use, he can clean up and head home and everything was supposed to be okay, except. it wasn’t.

it’s the last time he sees becca. neil tells her parents what was actually going on, and she isn’t allowed to visit him in the hospital.

and then six months of rehab, one rushed wedding and a big ugly sold sign later, neil carts them off to hawkins, indi-fucking-ana. as a “family.”

billy was certain this town would be nothing but a prison. it’d be somewhere he’d never find a place to be himself, neil would make sure of that. there wasn’t a single thing to like about this place and its bullshit small town sensibilities. for all the open space it might as well have been stone walls and steel bars.

except.

except...here was a boy with soft eyes and nimble fingers, who gets a little wrinkle between his brows when he concentrates, and is always moving, fidgeting, fiddling with zippers and touching his elbows and looking at him makes billy itch. to touch, to soothe, to take, and…

things get complicated when aimless blue waves scrawl up billy’s arm. when steve follows him out into the parking lot. calls him pretty to his face. and suddenly billy’s eight years old and realizing this shit is real. terrified of what that could mean. spinning fragile dreams like spider’s silk, hard to shake but easy to destroy.

even entertaining the idea of putting on makeup while he’s still in hawkins is stupid and dangerous, but goddamn if he hasn’t risked more for less.

he’s sure he’ll regret it. like he’s regretted every other desperate bid for freedom. but when faced with steve harrington’s smile, he can’t find it in himself to say no.

(edit: pt3 here)

[cyhyr]

Whumpmas In July: Support

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: M

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka; Hatake Kakashi & Maito Gai

WC: ~5640

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Notes: Therapy, Flashbacks, Triggers, Making Out, Communication

A/N: This story will make. Next to no sense. If you don't read "Stop" first. I mean, you can certainly try. But really. If anyone needs a summary of the previous fic--I know it's a rough one--send a message and I'll get back to you with it :)

A sequel to "Stop"

For @whumpmasinjuly prompt list

Read on The Archive

~

“Is there anything else you wanted to discuss today? We still have five minutes.”

Iruka crosses his arms and ducks his head, thinking of how to word his question. Request? “I… How does one go about helping their partner in this kind of situation?”

Rikona leans her elbow on her desk, her chin on her hand. “You’re worried about Hatake-san.”

“He’s the one who found me,” Iruka says. “I’d be worried for anyone who found me in that state. It… it wasn’t pleasant. But because he’s also my partner…” He trails off, not yet knowing how to finish his sentence. Rikona will wait, he knows; he scrubs his face with his palms. “He doesn’t leave me alone anymore.”

“It’s only been three weeks, Iruka-sensei. Surely, he’s being understandably protective, considering what he saw.”

“No, I mean. He won’t take missions. He’s outside in the waiting room right now. He’s on alert in the village. The civilians are starting to notice. My students,” he groans, “they’re asking if Kakashi will just come inside the classroom instead of hanging around in the trees like a creep.”

Rikona hums thoughtfully. “That does seem excessive. Is he seeing anyone? For therapy, of course.”

Iruka shakes his head. “I know it’s noted in his file that he’s attended his required annual psych evals, but he says he’s had Yamanaka in his head before and doesn’t want anyone else in there.”

She sighs. “Their mind jutsu is an offensive technique and shouldn’t be used on fellow Konoha shinobi. Urgh.”

“Urgh indeed,” Iruka agrees.

“I think, the best you can do for now, would be to have Hatake-san confide in someone.”

“I—”

“He’s not going to tell you, Iruka-sensei,” she continues, waving a hand flippantly. “He sees you as someone to protect. He’s not going to put his worries on you. Does he have a good friend you can ask to look into him?”

Iruka smiles, and nods.

~

Kakashi has a new routine since Iruka’s release from the hospital. He wakes up just before dawn and sneaks out of Iruka’s apartment, where he’s been sleeping at the kotatsu. He visits the memorial stone for twenty-four minutes, the exact amount of time he can give himself and still make it back to Iruka’s before breakfast.

He makes Iruka eat (he doesn’t eat; can’t eat, not this early) and take the medicine he’s been prescribed (a two-week course of antibiotics, and pain medicine as needed). While Iruka eats, he makes bento for both of them. Then he walks Iruka to the Academy, where he hangs out in the tree outside of Iruka’s classroom all day until lunchtime. They eat lunch together, Iruka telling him about the morning classes as though he doesn’t know Kakashi is watching his every breath. When afternoon practicals take Iruka’s class outside, Kakashi shifts silently to another tree to keep his mark.

Iruka used to switch up and use different training fields for different days. Lately, he keeps his class in training field three. It’s the one furthest from the village border. They never discussed this, but Kakashi suspects Rikona-sensei suggested it. She’s been good for Iruka.

Iruka’s afternoons are different day-to-day, but Kakashi stays next to him throughout it all. He sits in the corner, pretending to read, during Mission Desk shifts. He stays in the back of the classroom quietly if Iruka’s on detention duty. He offers assistance if Iruka is tutoring—for theory, he’s gently let down, but Iruka lets him help if he’s tutoring practicals. On Thursdays he walks Iruka to the hospital, to the third floor, and anxiously stays in the waiting room for the hour-long therapy session.

After everything, they’ll pick up something for dinner and head home. To Iruka’s home. Kakashi asks every night if he can stay, and Iruka always says yes, as long as he cooks dinner. A small price to pay for his peace of mind. If it comes with Iruka’s pleased smile at every new dish Kakashi serves him, with a deep moan of content when the soup is the perfect blend of spicy and savory; well, that’s just a bonus.

Iruka always demands to clean up himself. “You cooked, I’ll clean.”

Kakashi doesn’t know what to think about it. He knows now that Iruka stress-cleans; is this just him destressing after… after? Or is he really just dividing the labor?

He only lets Iruka out of sight now that they’re home—in Iruka’s home—and behind the wards. He relaxes, settles down into the kotatsu, and lets Iruka come to him. He always does, every night. Even if it’s just to sit side-by-side, with Kakashi’s arms around Iruka while they each read their own books—Iruka always comes to him at the end of the night.

Sometimes they’ll kiss. It doesn’t get heated, but feeling Iruka close as he is comfortable being is perfect.

He makes sure to send Iruka to bed before he falls asleep. Iruka always asks if he wants the spare room, the one Naruto had once claimed, but Kakashi’s more comfortable at the kotatsu, where he can cover more entrances to the apartment. Not that he tells Iruka that. He trusts Iruka’s wards. But… just in case.

~

Iruka plans on asking Gai-sensei to take Kakashi out for an evening the next time he sees him at the Mission Desk. It can’t take too long for that coincidence to occur; Team Gai has been taking missions almost non-stop in preparation for the next chūnin exams in a few months.

Kakashi turns the page of his book from his seat in the corner of the room. If nothing else, his constant presence has been a boon in that the more unruly jōnin don’t dare act up while Kakashi is standing guard. And gods, everyone in the village knows that’s exactly what he’s doing and it… it grates on Iruka, that Kakashi feels he needs a guard while he’s safe behind the village walls.

But he can’t ask him to stop. He knows it’s not for him. Kakashi isn’t doing this for Iruka, no matter what he tells himself, or anyone else.

They head home at the end of the night. It’s comfortable, having Kakashi there at his side. He won’t let Iruka wrap an arm around his waist or even hold his hand while they walk, but they’re close enough that they brush elbows and fingertips. Iruka feels the static in the air as they walk, the chakra discharge Kakashi is barely holding back.

Gods help the poor bastard who bumps into them before he gets past this.

On the stairs up to his apartment, Iruka turns and looks down at Kakashi, whose gaze is turned out at the village. “Love?”

Kakashi hums, and cocks his head up at him. He looks so much like a puppy when he does that.

Iruka cups his face with one palm, turning his face the rest of the way towards himself. With his other hand, he cards his fingers lightly through Kakashi’s hair, revelling in the closed-eye sigh he receives. “Rikona-sensei suggested yesterday that I might be ready to try something… more, if you’re up for that,” he murmurs against Kakashi’s hitai-ate.

He watches Kakashi’s throat shift under the mask, his lips part and the fabric dampen with the force of his exhale.

“What are we still doing outside, then?” he finally says.

Iruka grins, and reaches down for his hands. Kakashi gives them to him freely, and they stumble-trip-carry-each-other the rest of the way into his apartment.

It used to be, when Kakashi had come home with him, he’d crowd him against the door and kiss his neck while begging him to get the wards back up. This time, Kakashi pulls Iruka against his chest, putting his own back to the door, and feeds his own chakra into the wards to set them for the night. While he does that, Iruka carefully slides his mask down his face to pool at his collar and sets to kissing him so thoroughly Kakashi has to restart the wards twice to get them right.

Once he’s done, he keeps his hands pressed to the wood of the door; Iruka can feel the strain of want in his shoulders.

“What happened to ‘best ass in Konoha’?” he mutters against Kakashi’s lips.

Kakashi moans; asks, “It’s okay? Can I? Please please please let me touch you, Love, I—”

“If your hands aren’t on my ass by the time I finish this—oh, fuck.”

Kakashi squeezes in pulses, kisses him back, and starts walking him out of the genkan. Sandals, vests, hitai-ate, wrappings—all are gone as quickly as possible, with silent taps against each piece to ask Is this okay? Can I take this off of you? All the while, they keep kissing, tongues meeting gently and lips gasping at heated brushes of bare skin.

Kakashi pulls Iruka down on top of him as they fall onto the kotatsu. He takes advantage of the new position and dives for that sweet spot behind Kakashi’s ear, smiling and pressing his teeth against soft skin.

He’s hard. They’re both hard. It’s wonderful.

Kakashi tips his head back and moans, wraps his arms around Iruka’s waist, spreads his legs and breathes, “More, Iruka, please Love, more.”

“More, what?” Iruka smiles.

“Whatever. Whatever you want to give me, I’ll take. Just. Gods, feels so-so nice.”

Iruka dips his head, kisses Kakashi’s neck, and rocks his hips slowly against Kakashi’s. “Fuck, love,” he gasps. “You-You’re so beautiful like this.”

He frots a little harder, a little faster, and it’s amazing.

But something—something’s off.

The hairs on the back of his neck rise. Iruka looks up.

Kakashi’s head is still tipped aside. His breath is stuttering. The sharingan is open. One of his arms falls off of Iruka’s back and flops, palm up, to the side.

Oh gods, no.

“Love? Kakashi?” Iruka places a hand on Kakashi's cheek and feels his blood freeze. “Kakashi, my love, come back to me. We’re in Konoha, we’re at home, the wards are up, we’re safe.”

Lightning chakra sparks in his hand. Iruka swallows back the instinctive fear, and throws himself back into waking Kakashi up.

“Please, love, you can’t—you have to come back. Please, we’re not—we’re safe. I’m safe. You already killed him. It’s over,” he ducks his head and presses a kiss to Kakashi’s clothed chest. “My Kakashi, please, please come back to me.”

The lightning doesn’t stop. The sharingan doesn’t close. For so many long, terrible minutes, Iruka waits, willing Kakashi to come back to himself. For the flashback to stop. He wonders how much Kakashi is registering. He rests his head on Kakashi’s chest and listens to his stuttering breath and rabbit-fast pulse.

He does his best not to cry.

Kakashi’s shirt gets wet anyway.

The sparks in his palm eventually stop. Iruka looks up and sees both of Kakashi’s eyes are closed. He leans back down and listens closely, but his pulse and breathing are still off. He must have just chakra-exhausted himself. “Kakashi,” he murmurs. “My love, please wake up. Gods, is this how you feel, when I…”

“...Iru-ka?”

“Oh, thank the gods,” Iruka sighs. He leans up and cups Kakashi’s cheeks. “What do you need, love? What can I—?”

“Water. Please.”

Iruka vaults over the back of the kotatsu to get to the kitchen faster. But as soon as he stands up, he remembers how he feels coming out of an episode—cold, not quite all there—and Kakashi just had a warm weight leave him suddenly. Iruka turns and grabs a throw blanket out of a basket and drapes it over Kakashi; who, indeed, had started to shiver. He looks up at Iruka gratefully, and huddles into the throw, and then also pulls the quilt of the kotatsu closer.

Satisfied, Iruka goes for the water.

~

They were. They were on the kotatsu. They’d been making out. It was nice. Great. Amazing.

Kakashi fully expected to never get that close to Iruka again and yet, the man had put his teeth on his neck and they had both been hard and-and—

And then he was back in that cave, and his legs ached from running for so long, and the echo of Sato’s words rang between his ears. “You can’t imagine how beautiful your eyes are, full of fear. But you don’t have to be afraid right now, pet. Your eyes are just as beautiful in the throes of ecstasy.” He wasn’t fast enough. Sato had Iruka tied up, his legs over Sato’s shoulders, was going to-to—

Sharingan. Raikiri. Death.

He’s not fast enough. He couldn’t save him. Couldn’t… save—

Sato had Iruka tied up to a pole by his neck.

“You came. You came. You—”

“My Kakashi, please please come back to me.”

...

Kakashi breathes. It hurts. He’s cold, and breathing hurts, and he hasn’t felt like this since Rin—

“Water, love?”

He looks up, and Iruka is coming around the side of the kotatsu with a glass and a plate. He smiles tiredly. He’s in good hands, he supposes; if anyone knows how to treat someone who just went through… that, it’s Iruka.

“I also brought some crackers and cucumber slices,” Iruka says. “May I sit?”

Kakashi nods. “Please.” He tries to sit up so Iruka can have the place where his head currently is, but Iruka waves him away. He places the water in Kakashi’s hand and the plate in easy reach, and then goes to the other side of the kotatsu and sits at Kakashi’s feet.

Their toes touch. Kakashi sips at the water and grabs a cucumber.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Iruka asked.

“I… We were. Y’know. And then I was back in the cave.”

Iruka nods. “Do you know what pushed you there? Something I did, or a position, or—”

“‘Beautiful’,” Kakashi mutters, and then shivers and groans as his stomach tries to turn.

Iruka looks thoughtful for a moment, and then nods. “We won’t say it again. I’m sorry.”

“You can’t have known.”

“Kakashi—”

“I feel so…” Kakashi holds up his hands and looks at them, turns them over. It’s odd. “I can’t describe it.”

“Fuzzy? Raw?”

Kakashi stares over at Iruka and then slowly nods. “Tingly.”

“You manifested lightning chakra in your right palm for almost ten minutes, love. And I’m pretty sure you have a minor case of chakra exhaustion from having the sharingan activated the whole time, too.”

Kakashi groans. “I’m sorry for ruining our night.”

Iruka chuckles. “Try again, love.”

He tilts his head to the side and tries to think. What could Iruka mean…? Oh. Ha.

“Um… I’m not sure—?”

“I’ll always be here if you need me,” Iruka prompts. “Just like you’re always there for me.”

He smiles tiredly. “Thank you, Iruka. For staying.”

“You’re welcome. Do you want to eat more than that, or do you think you just need to sleep it off?”

“I’d like to… to hold you,” Kakashi says, “if that’s alright?”

Iruka scoots over to him and lets Kakashi arrange him against his chest. They rest for much of the evening, until Iruka has to eat more than crackers and cucumbers. After dinner he hovers in the hall, hesitant.

“Do you… um. Kakashi, would it be—ah, fuck.”

“I’ll be okay on the kotatsu again tonight,” he says.

Iruka sighs, and shuffles his feet. “But you don’t have to. We’ve shared a bed before. And I know I always feel better getting to hold you through the night after one of my episodes, so I just thought…”

Kakashi’s heart swells. He grins, stands on slightly shaky legs, and crosses the living room to the hall where Iruka waits.

“Would it make you feel better if I slept with you?”

Iruka shrugs. “I mean, yes, but I don’t want to push you. Flashbacks, Dissociation, it’s no joke, love and—”

“This isn’t the first time I’m going through this,” Kakashi says. Seeing Iruka’s curious glint, he continues, “I’ll tell you about it some other time, but suffice to say I’m. Familiar. With flashbacks. Going through them with someone else; this is the new part for me.”

Iruka reaches out and takes his hand. Tugs him, gently. “Just… come to bed? Please?”

Kakashi glances back at the kotatsu. The living room is better for watching more possible entrances. But Iruka’s in his bedroom. This is a practical choice. “Let me grab my hitai-ate, and I’ll be along.”

Iruka’s smile rivals the sun. Gods, it’s nice to see that smile again.

~

“Kakashi had a flashback,” Iruka groans. “He’s. He’s got a trigger word.”

“How is he?”

“Raw. Flighty.” He snorts. “More overprotective than he was before, if it was possible.”

Rikona-sensei hums and fiddles with her pen. “Do you feel comfortable talking about what happened? Were you there for it?”

Iruka shrugs. “I was there for it. I… I caused it. I said his trigger word. We didn’t know.”

“That is how we tend to find out about these things.”

“But I don’t. Not yet. It’s not my story to tell.”

“So then tell your story. Tell me your experience, finally being on the other side of this.”

Iruka crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. “I…” He chews on his lip. “It was terrifying. I’ve never been scared of Kakashi, okay? Not-not when I was a genin and heard about the genius in ANBU, not when I served under him when I was still doing field work regularly, not when I stood up to him at the chūnin exam nominations. But the other night, he—”

He stops. Shuts his eyes tight, ducks his head. Rikona-sensei nudges the tissue box a little closer. He ignores it.

“I was so scared he was going to hurt himself.”

“Not you?”

“I… yeah, I was a little scared of that. He had molded lightning chakra during his episode. He’d opened the sharingan. He… If he had more control of his body, he could have easily killed me, I think.”

“Iruka, I need you to think very carefully about this,” Rikona-sensei starts, “because you’re my client, and your well-being and safety are paramount to a good mental health recovery. But also because Hatake-san is a former ANBU operative and doesn’t have his own mental health support regiment. So I’m asking you. Do you feel safe around him?”

Iruka shifts in his seat. “If I say no, you’re going to have him admitted, aren’t you?”

“No,” she says. “But I am required to bring such information to the Hokage. She’ll do with that information as she sees fit.”

Iruka thinks—Kakashi had been limp. He’d said it was a flashback, but it really was closer to a dissociation episode from how Iruka looked at it. Yes, all the preparatory signs were there for a raikiri, but if Kakashi couldn’t even lift his hand, had he really been a threat?

But really.

He’d been more worried that the chakra exhaustion wasn’t going to stop the flashback, or the half-formed raikiri. He’d been worried that Kakashi would be forced to bed rest for days over a flashback, instead of a real threat. He’d been worried that Kakashi would lose control of the lightning chakra and shock himself.

“Kakashi is not a danger to me,” Iruka says firmly, “nor to the village.”

Rikona nods. “Your word, Iruka-sensei. If that feeling changes, at any time, there are always ANBU on patrol. Alert them.”

~

Getting Gai to agree to take Kakashi out for a night is simple—the man nearly starts crying at the chance to spend an evening catching up with his Eternal Rival.

Getting Kakashi to leave him alone for the night to go out with Gai; now that proves relatively difficult. All the way home from the Mission Desk, they bicker about it gently. Iruka doesn’t want to provoke Kakashi. He just wants Kakashi to spend time with someone else.

They’re climbing the stairs up to the apartment. “It’s just one night,” Iruka smiles, looking back over his shoulder.

Kakashi can’t seem to muster up the will to smile back. He’s worriedly glancing out at the village. “But what about—”

“I can feed myself for one night, love,” he says.

“You know that’s not what… what I…”

Iruka turns, takes his hands and kisses them. Softly, “Love, trust my wards. I’m in the village. I’m safe.”

“I know. I just.”

“Go. Have a night. You can walk me to school in the morning, same as always. I won’t leave without you.”

Kakashi sighs, and asks, “Can I kiss you before I go?”

Iruka smirks. “You’d better.”

~

Kakashi keeps his hands in his pockets while he and Gai walk through the market. Gai is talking about Youth and Evenings and The Warmth of Springtime. Kakashi is looking at the paper lanterns and contemplating ducking into a food stall. He knows Gai will follow him.

Maybe he could use this time away to get Iruka a gift.

But what would he like?

“Kakashi, are you listening?”

“Springtime, Passion, Youth, Maa, Maa,” Kakashi waves him off, “What do you think Iruka would like as a gift?”

“Thinking of your precious person even when you are apart! The love you share is so—”

“Focus, Gai.”

“Why not a simple bouquet? Flowers are always bea—”

“Don’t!” Kakashi snaps. Gai’s mouth shuts fast, and the crowd around them stills for just a moment. He sweats, shakes, and then jumps to the roofs and runs. He can hear Gai keeping pace behind him; that’s fine. He can deal with Gai. He can’t deal with civilians, with all those eyes—

He lands behind the Academy, leans heavily on his knees, and keeps going into the trees. It’s getting dark, but he’s leaving a trail and Gai knows his chakra. He falls into a clearing and slips—oh, this is what Iruka describes as slipping, feeling the world fall away out from underneath him, but he’s not fully gone yet.

“Kakashi!”

He holds himself together, his breath stuttering, the grass wet under his knees; but it's not grass, it’s stone, and it’s not his knees it’s his feet and he’s running and his legs ache and-and,

A hand slaps his cheek.

“Stay with me, Kakashi! Where are you?”

“Cave. Forty-two miles northeast—”

“No, Kakashi. Where are you?”

He looks around. It’s dark. The cave is-was-is dark. He needs-needed the sharingan to see it was so dark. Is. Was?

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

“You are safe within the walls of Konohagakure. We are in training field three, behind the Academy.”

The Academy? Iruka.

“Where’s Iruka???”

“He is at home, where you left him. Also safe, behind nigh impenetrable wards and seals only the best fūinjutsu master could hope to break.”

Kakashi looks up. Gai is kneeling in the grass—wet, soft, recently mowed grass—and looking at him with deep concern. His hands hover over Kakashi’s shoulders.

“Kakashi, what happened back there?”

“I… I don’t. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But you must. You can not serve the village in this state.”

“What—What do you want me to say?”

“The truth!” Gai put his massive hands on Kakashi’s shoulders and it’s a relief to have that pressure assuring him that he exists in the here-and-now and not back-then. “I am more than your Rival, am I not?”

“Gai…”

“Am I?”

Kakashi nods, slowly. It hurts to move too fast.

“Then talk to me.” He shifts them both so that they’re laying on their backs in the grass, looking up at the stars. Gai stays right by his side; like he always had been, like he always will. Kakashi breathes more steadily now. Then Gai asks, “How are you?”

“Better than Iruka,” Kakashi mutters.

“See, I am not sure that is true.” Gai hums. “Iruka-sensei, as terrible as this sounds, has experience with this sort of encounter. He has a therapist, a professional trained in methods with which to help him. He has a loving partner who cares for him deeply,” he nudges Kakashi’s shoulder with his own; Kakashi smirks. “He finds fulfillment in his work, which he resumed as soon as he was physically able. And he still speaks with his friends, at least during work hours.”

“I…”

“Love is a wondrous thing, and it fills my heart to see you care so much. But I want to know how you are.”

Someday, he’ll figure out what makes Gai, Gai. Someday, he’ll figure out why Gai makes Kakashi vomit words like nearly no one else. Someday, he’ll figure out why he and Gai were never romantically compatible.

Tonight, he talks.

He tells Gai about not being fast enough. About hearing Sato calling Iruka… that. About seeing Iruka in that horrible position, with Sato over him. About having Iruka repeat, over and over, “You came,” like he’d given up.

About how he failed Iruka.

He’s had to come to terms with not being fast enough to save someone before. He visits them at the Stone. But Iruka.

“Gai, I still look at him every day and I-I see him there, with the-the ropes around his neck and Sato ready to… to…”

“You feel guilty.”

“How can he even trust me anymore?!”

“Iruka-sensei never lost faith in Konoha, and so never lost faith in you.”

“And he managed to get out of all of that without a new trigger—he has so many, Gai, it’s horrible, I swear if I ever get the chance to kill that fucker I’m going to do it—”

“Mizuki?”

Kakashi growls. “Let’s not get into that tonight.”

“Understood.”

“But he. He was so worried he wasn’t going to be able to hear the words pet or pretty again without,” Kakashi makes a vague gesture. Gai nods for him to continue. “But he did. He’s so strong and he made it through. He tested it with his therapist a week after he came home, and again that night when I brought him back to his apartment.”

“That is great news, Kakashi.”

“And then there’s me. Who didn’t go through any of what he did, who doesn’t have any of that trauma, and here I am—the one with the trigger word from this experience.”

Gai leans up on his elbow and looks down at Kakashi thoughtfully. “Can you tell me what it is? So I know not to say it in your presence.”

Kakashi swallows. Deep breath. Grits his teeth… tries… “No. I… no. Um. Oh, shit.”

He rolls to his knees and crawls away, shoves his mask down to his throat, and throws up.

~

Gai walks him home, long after midnight. He tries going back to the jōnin barracks, but Gai insists that he not be alone tonight. He can either go home with Gai, or go back to Iruka’s.

Simple choice, really.

He knocks on Iruka’s door. If Iruka’s still awake, he’ll stay here. If not, he’ll crash at Gai’s for an hour or so until he can sneak back to his own place.

The wards’ hums slow to a stop, the door unlocks, and then opens. Iruka is dressed for bed, his hair down and braided, and he smiles when he sees Kakashi. “You didn’t need to knock,” he says.

“I really did,” Kakashi says. “It’s been a rough night.”

Iruka’s smile fades, and he looks over Kakashi’s shoulder to Gai. Gai must make some comforting gesture, because Iruka sags, and reaches out for Kakashi’s hands. “Well, come on. It’s late. Thank you, Gai-sensei, for taking him out for the evening, and for bringing him home.”

“You do not need to thank me for spending time with my dear Rival,” Gai says. He places a hand on Kakashi’s shoulder and rubs his back with his thumb. “It was pleasant, getting to catch up. We must do it again sometime. Perhaps a weekly sparring session would do us both good?”

Kakashi nods, still in a daze. He hasn’t quite… returned to himself, he supposes.

Iruka pulls him inside. “Good night, Gai-sensei.”

“Good night, Iruka-sensei, Kakashi.”

Kakashi lifts a hand in a half-wave.

Iruka gets him inside and sits him down on the step of the genkan. He helps him out of his sandals, wrappings, and flak vest. “Love?”

“I’m alright,” he says automatically.

“You don’t seem alright.”

“I talked with Gai.”

“Obviously. You were out together all night, I should hope you talked.”

“No. I… I told him. About. About Sato. I’m sorry.”

But Iruka smiles, the look soft and calming. He takes Kakashi’s hands, kisses his fingers, and slips his gloves off. Then, he pulls Kakashi to stand back up and leads him through the apartment.

“I was hoping that you would confide in a friend,” Iruka says. “I know… Kakashi, this guilt you’re feeling, it’s killing you.”

“It’s—”

Iruka sits him on the bed and slides off his hitai-ate. Kakashi’s arms go instinctively around Iruka’s waist as he steps in between Kakashi’s knees.

“It’s not healthy. A bit of guilt, for what you saw, for not being there sooner? I can understand that. But love, I’m okay. I got through it with minimal injuries and next to no backfall on my mental health.”

“I know.”

“I’m worried about you.” Iruka pets his hair and Kakashi leans his temple against Iruka’s chest.

“You were hurt,” Kakashi mutters. “I just—”

“You came at probably the worst possible time of that entire situation,” Iruka says. “You saw something horrible, and you heard someone demean me in a way you likely have never experienced before. My love,” Iruka cups his jaw and tips his chin up so they’re looking eye-to-eye, “anyone could have come out of that kind of situation with a bit of trauma. Yours is just manifesting in a physical way, and we have to work with that.”

“But—”

“My Kakashi,” Iruka says sternly. “You were hurt. Just because your scars from this event aren’t physical doesn’t mean they aren’t real.”

Iruka lets him go, and he presses his face back into Iruka’s chest the second he’s able. He groans. “Why do you call me that when you know it makes me all… I don’t know… gooey, inside?”

“Hmm?” Iruka continues petting his hair. “Call you what? My Kakashi?”

He nuzzles Iruka and groans deeper, feeling the fuzzy, tingly feeling from earlier in the night fade away. “Definitely not,” he lies.

“No?” Iruka pulls away enough to tap at his hitai-ate and mask, which is enough of a signal for bedtime as it is for remove these please. “What do I call you that makes you gooey then? Love?”

The hitai-ate makes a clink as it hits the floor.

“Dearest?”

Kakashi shrugs off his shirt and mask. It hits the hamper near the closet.

“Darling?”

He strips Iruka of his yukata, letting it fall to the floor.

“Love of my life?”

“If you don’t lay down with me, I’m going back to the kotatsu,” Kakashi growls. He wraps his arms tight around Iruka’s waist, and falls back and to the side to land on the pillows.

Iruka laughs as they fall. He gently strokes a finger down Kakashi’s bare face and asks, “Can I kiss you?”

“Of course.” Kakashi lets Iruka come to him, kissing him gently and carefully. It’s odd, being the one handled like glass. Odd, but sweet. Nice.

“I know you had an emotional evening,” Iruka says against his lips. “But I’m really excited about this and I want to tell you about it. I can wait until morning if you need to, though.”

“I would love nothing more than for you to tell me about this exciting thing, Love,” Kakashi drawls. He yawns right after, which kills the intent behind his words, but Iruka just laughs and goes forward with telling him anyway.

“So. I’ve been talking with Rikona-sensei about my triggers. And, yes, many of them are auditory, but I’ve also got quite a few visual triggers.”

“Which is why if we do anything seriously sexual we go to my place,” Kakashi adds, following along.

“Right! So, Rikona-sensei gave me a collection of apartments that are for rent right now and—”

“You’re going to move?” Kakashi perked up, suddenly awake.

Iruka nods. “I want to move. Mizuki—he spent so much time in this place, in this room, and I… I’ve tried making new memories to fit over the old ones and it’s not working. So I sent out applications tonight and hopefully by the weekend I’ll have letters back saying which apartments I can go see.” He’s grinning ear to ear, blinding Kakashi with the force of it. “One of the places is actually a small house, with a yard. If I can get it, that’s the one I want. I’m hoping Naruto likes it. And I—I want you to come see the apartments with me.”

Kakashi blinks. “What?”

“I’m not-not asking you to look at apartments with me, like, ‘let’s get a place together and move in’ kind of looking!” Iruka hastens to clarify. He rubs at the bridge of his nose with one finger, a nervous habit—one the cuter ones he has. “I just... before I sign any paperwork. I… I love you, and I value your opinion. So. I want you there. If you… want. To be.”

If it were possible, Kakashi would pull Iruka closer. As it is, they’re already chest to chest, so Kakashi settles for nuzzling Iruka’s hair and pressing kisses on his forehead, and down to his eyelids and nose and cheek.

“I will be wherever you want me to be.”

Iruka kisses him again and leans against his shoulder. “Right now, this is where I want you.”

“How convenient. That’s where I want to be too.”

They both laugh, and Iruka nudges him in the side. “No Icha Icha lines.”

[joshslater]

Weeding Out

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- Hey, I said I was sorry. You know I'm just pretending. - It still hurts. - No one hit you today. - That's not what I meant. - Don't be like that. You know why I have to do it. - Yea... No... Why do you have to do it? You're just scared they'll treat you like shit. - I'd... Fuck, I need to go to practice. We can talk later. Your place? - Yeah, I guess.

As soon as Ethan was out of earshot, Theo hit his school locker hard and thought "Fuck" really loudly. He too was late for practice, but not the kind where young males like Ethan run and compete and cooperate and sweat together on the field outside the school buildings. His practice was in the music room with the woodwind section of the school orchestra playing bassoon, or fagott as Ethan's teammates heckled him with.

It had all been so promising at the start. One evening when he was playing with Fred and they were talking shit on discord he had mentioned that he was at least bisexual. And if Fred knew, he had to be the one to tell Emma, so he did that first chance he could get, but that was it. He didn't want any coming out announcement or anything. No one ever came out straight, so why would he need any ceremony to declare his orientation. Besides, he wasn't sure what he was. Somehow this started the low-intensity rumor mill going, saying that he was gay. Perhaps it wasn't any of them starting the rumor somehow, but just a case of synchronicity. Doesn't really matter as nothing much came of it, except for some of the dudes in the football team started to bother him. Things like stopping him and asking him to punch one of them in their abs, and then of course returning the favor by punching Theo back. Nothing that ever truly physically hurt him, nothing that made him want to expose himself by talking to any of the teachers, but things that would cause trouble and delays nonetheless.

After about a month one of the jocks, Ethan, who he shared Chemistry and Physics with asked him if it was true about him being gay. Theo started with a defensive "I don't know", and as they talked all the way from school to halfway home, where their ways parted, it was clear they were at least both attracted to each other. To Theo this was a double win. Not only was Ethan hot, and had always been an OK guy as far as he knew, but the thought of a Nerd and a Jock couple was hot to him. Not that he really saw himself as a nerd. He considered himself pretty normal. But then he guessed Ethan probably saw himself as pretty normal, and probably saw Theo as a nerd.

They started meeting up at each other's houses, getting to know each other. They had spent hours in his room listening to classical music, and hours in Ethan's house watching ESPN. While Ethan was upfront about enjoying hiking, it took a month until he confessed to enjoying bird watching, and that was the real reason for the hikes. To Theo it just made him even cuter. They had been making out on more than one occasion but never taken the step to actually have sex. Theo felt that Ethan really wanted to go there. He on the other hand didn't want to do that until Ethan fessed up to liking him publicly. Outside of their respective rooms he wouldn't even touch Theo.

But then there was the bullying. It didn't stop just because he kissed their running back regularly. He even joined in sometimes, throwing his bag up a tree on one occasion. Though he did tell the guys to be gentle at one time. "Who would make my homework otherwise?"

Damn him! Theo wished he still had a locker to hit, but he was almost at the music room. He had bought the special weed the day after Ethan had said that, and then promptly decided to never think about it again. It would be wrong to use it. But they couldn't go on like this.

Music practice went lousy. He played the right notes, in the right order, at the right time, but his phrasing was way off. Playing more forcefully than written, often veering into staccato, his mind on the small box in his socks drawer. It was on his mind all the way home, and it was on his mind when Ethan pressed the doorbell.

They had been seeing each other long enough that Ethan could tell something was up. Theo looked tense, nervous even. Was this about the shit he was on about earlier? No, he was upset then, so he would be still upset now if he hadn't dropped that. This was something else going on. The reason became clear once he'd dropped his gear, and they reached Theo's room. He could see the spliff and the lighter on the desk. He himself had tried weed once before, at summer camp. Jace had brought some with him that he'd gotten from his elder brother. They were quite a few that shared it, so no one got very much, but he'd felt something. He was sure of it.

- Hey, I didn't expect this from you. Where did you get it? - You've tried it before, right? - Yeah, at camp.

Theo looked uncertain. Ethan suddenly knew he's role. Theo needed someone to guide him to his first blunt. He took charge and told Theo to lie down. The bed being too small for both of them, unless they did what Theo had been wanting them to do, they moved the pillows to the floor. Once Theo was lying down Ethan lit the blunt as he'd seen Jace do, and drew the first taste. He dared drawing the smoke deeper into his lungs than he had dared at camp. He lied down next to Theo, handed over the joint, and instructed him what to do. Time turned irrelevant, and walking back home he couldn't quite remember anything that happened after that. Had Theo's parents come home from work before he left? He couldn't recall.

It was still in the middle of the night when Ethan woke up, freezing, clammy, and as nauseated as he'd ever been. He jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, just in time to empty his stomach into the toilet bowl. He had sweat beads on his forehead, all his muscles ached, and he could feel that weird feeling in the jaw, where the muscles relax to prepare for another vomit. He had barely thought the thought when another convulsion expelled more stomach contents. He rinsed his mouth, drank a few mugs of tap water, and made it all the way back to the bed when he felt he needed to go back to the bathroom for more.

That's where his mother found him sleeping a few hours later, head in the bowl. Once led back to his bed, a sick day was a quick decision, though he insisted she could still go to work. He knew how to heat soup, not that he was hungry. He was asleep again before she was out of the room.

He checked his phone clock as he woke up. It was only barely lunch, but the fever had passed and he felt much better. In fact, he felt completely restored, better than ever, except for a craving he didn't recognize. He jumped out of bed, lost his balance, but managed to catch the corner of the desk with his hands before he crashed into it. He put on some loose-fitting clothes. He thought he knew what the craving was, and headed out.

Theo made another attempt to step out of bed. If this was how bad it got for him, he could only imagine what Ethan had been going through. It was hard to stay focused, but he could tell it was working. He could feel himself being different somehow. As he held up his arm he could see changes when looking for them, but it took effort. Was it because the changes were so subtle or was it that his mind had changed so much that his new self didn't acknowledge the changes? He just hoped Ethan was affected according to plan, but saw no reason why he wouldn't. If anything he had been a more enthusiastic smoker than him, and so far everything had happened as promised. This last part of the plan was a bit of guesswork though. There would be an insatiable urge to fall into the stereotype, but he thought he knew Ethan good enough to work out what he would do.

As Theo got dressed he could feel how his body was different. It didn't look that different once he got clothes on, but before that there was a marked difference. His muscles were more defined, tighter in a way, and if he lifted his T-shirt there was a faint outline of a six-pack, something he had never had before. He didn't really care one way or the other though. As he passed through the kitchen there was a note on the countertop with instructions for how to heat lasagna. He wasn't hungry although the kitchen clock showed it was almost lunchtime, but he could feel another pull. There was a low hum of wanting to smoke another blunt. There really only was one place for someone like him to get it.

Ignoring the lasagna he instead went out the door, grabbed his bike, and started to ride towards the concrete plant up north. There's a weird feeling to be in a place at the wrong time. Just riding alongside the deserted houses in the middle of the day, when he was supposed to be in school somehow felt wrong. Then it felt right. He recognized this as some of the last reverberations of the magic from yesterday. He didn't know if it was actually magic, but somehow magic felt safer or cleaner than admitting having drugged Ethan and himself.

Some twenty minutes later he could hear the clacking and rolling sound coming from the park. The concrete plant had donated the skate park as a PR stunt they hoped would drive their sales of swimming pools. Making one smooth, curved concrete installation is basically the same as the other. Theo didn't really have a plan B in case he wouldn't find Ethan here, perhaps another side effect, but plan A turned out a success. There, next to the half-pipe section, Ethan was getting instructions from some older skater on how to make a drop.

Theo froze in shock at what he saw. Ethan wore the same clothes as yesterday, but everything else was different. His otherwise tight cropped hair was now inches of shaggy mess framing his much leaner looking face. He had definitely lost a lot of muscles, as the T-shirt that yesterday had shown off his chest and shoulders now hanged baggy as the rest of his clothes. While Theo had gained some muscles and lost some fat, Ethan had brutally been forced down to a similar build. Theo felt sick again, but in a worse way than this morning. It had been theoretical then, and a bit exciting, but looking at Ethan now he couldn't fathom them being friends, let alone together if he told the truth. That this was all his fault.

Ethan noticed Theo watching him from afar and lit up with a big smile. "Hey, watch this!" he shouted and did a shaky drop down the ramp, and continued to skate in a curve towards Theo. Much too fast and with too much force he slammed into Theo with a hug and a forceful kiss, while the skateboard continued further a bit until it hit a concrete step.

- Sorry, did I hurt you? What are you doing here? - What are you doing here yourself? - I had this crazy need for weed and though I should check out here. Matt there said he only deals to skaters, so I told him to show me. - You shouldn't... You don't know what you are dealing with. - And you do? You just had your first blunt. - You've only had two. That's not what I'm talking about. I am the

Theo didn't get the chance to say more as Ethan again kissed him on the mouth. Theo felt lost. On one hand he desperately wanted to come clean, to tell Ethan that all of this, their bodies, their reckless behavior, was because of the weed from yesterday. On the other hand he had never been hornier in his life. He wanted nothing more than for Ethan to continue what he was doing. He let his tongue quickly slip into Ethan's mouth.  Ethan was quick to respond the same way, and soon it was more of an oral version of thumb wars than actual kissing. Or perhaps the best kissing ever.

- No, Ethan you must hear me out. This is important. - This is important too. - Are you aware of any changes in your body since yesterday. - Duh! Just look at this arm. I'm fucking track and field material now. - You sound pretty chill about it. - Isn't that how your magic weed is supposed to work? - My... you knew? - Just a guess, now that I see you changed too. I was that big of an ass, was I? - I didn't mean... - Relax, I'm not mad. I think this can be kind of cool. Is it permanent? - Should last about a month, and then slowly turn back over a month or two. Kinda. - I have one demand. - Demand? - We are having sex today.

This time it was Theo who kissed Ethan.

[hopelesshawks]

Physical Fatality Part 3- A Night to Remember

18+ Hawks x fem, pro hero!reader

Summary: You’re a rising star in All Might’s agency. Hawks is the darling of Endeavor’s. By virtue of your job descriptions, the two of you are supposed to hate each other, or at the very least be cautiously neutral. For a long time that’s exactly what the two of you did. You stayed out of each other’s way and formed little opinion of the other. One fateful night at an HPSC gala changes all that. Based on the album Hopeless Fountain Kingdom by Halsey.

If you don’t want to see Physical Fatality content blacklist #hopelesspf

This story will have multiple NSFW parts so it is 18+ ONLY minors dni

Warnings for graphic descriptions of unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (receiving), creampie, and minor dom/sub themes

Masterlist

Let no one say Bakugo doesn’t make good on his promises.

You wore a black gown that hugged your figure perfectly and a matching black mask. The dress had been designed specifically with you in mind with silver detailing spiraling throughout. The designer had said she chose it because of the way silver would wind up and branch out along your arms when you used your quirk. “I’m not sure how else to incorporate telekinesis in a dress so I hope this is enough,” the small owl-eyed woman had fretted. “It’s perfect,” you had assured her, and now, as you stepped onto the red carpet with Bakugo on one arm and Midoriya the other, you were proving your assertion correct. The press had, of course, immediately picked up on the lack of an engagement ring on your hand and the lack of a fiancé on your arm but you ignored any and all questions about your engagement as you otherwise charmed the press. Then the minute you all were safely inside the hotel the event was hosted at, you and Bakugo had exchanged mischievous looks before making a beeline to the bar. It had taken Midoriya at least twenty minutes to coax you both from the hotel bar to the main banquet hall and by then you already had a pretty good buzz going. That of course didn’t stop your quest to get blitzed on the agency’s credit, however, as the two of you simply switched from the cocktails downstairs to drinking the complimentary champagne like it was water.

“Kacchan, (y/n)-Chan, please, slow down,” Midoriya fusses. “I didn’t think he’d actually fuss the whole time,” you confess to Bakugo. You’re taking the glass of champagne currently in your hand slower. As much as you’d talked about being the opposite of respectable you don’t want to tip over into sloppy territory. You and Katsuki are a little too friendly and a little too loud and that, in your opinion, is the sweet spot. “Tried to warn you. Go hang with your girlfriend Deku we’re fine,” Bakugo insists. “Are you guys fine though? You know this is technically a work event,” Midoriya chides. “If they didn’t want us to get at least a little drunk they shouldn’t have offered free champagne,” you point out. “We’ll be fine dumbass, go hang with your girl and we’ll stay here and be responsibly drunk,” Bakugo insists. Midoriya looks between the two of you multiple times before casting a look back over his shoulder where he can see Uraraka, Iida, and Yaoyorozu all talking. “We’ll even let you be the one to take us home! Promise!” you add on. Midoriya casts one last skeptical look before breaking. “Ugh, fine. But I’m serious guys! You better stay right here,” Midoriya finally relents. You and Bakugo both give him a mock salute before he finally relaxes and goes to join Uraraka. “Hey Katsuki?” you suddenly pipe up. “What?” “I just realized something.” “What did you realize?” “I’m pretty sure since Monoma and I broke up I’m technically fucking homeless right now.” It’s not funny but the two of you crack up anyway.

“I still think this is a bad idea,” Tokoyami groans as he trails behind Hawks, who is on the lookout for Mirko. “Even Dark Shadow thinks this is a horrible plan,” he insists. “Dark shadow does not think this is a horrible plan. Don’t put words in his mouth to prove a point,” Hawks says rolling his eyes. “I’m not, look,” Tokoyami insists. Hawks sighs and turns to face his friend. As the now very familiar black form emerges from Tokoyami’s torso, Hawks is 90% sure he’s about to be proven correct. In reality it’s a very good thing Hawks doesn’t gamble. Dark Shadow had promptly agreed with Tokoyami and it had only made the other man even more smug. “Whatever, I’m still going to find her,” Hawks huffs. “Why are you so insistent?” Tokoyami questions him. “She’s the love of my life! I’m sure of it!” “Oh my god you finally snapped.” “Fuck off.” “She is not the love of your life and even if she was she wants nothing to do with you now!” “You just don’t understand. I have to fight for her back.” “Would you tell her your real name?”

The last question makes Hawks stop in his tracks and whirl around back to this friend. “What are you on about now?” he asks. “If she’s the love of your life would you let her touch your wings and would you tell her your real name and if you had to choose between her and work would you choose her?” Tokoyami presses. Hawks opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He wants to say yes. He wants to stick it to his friend and tell him he would indeed let himself be vulnerable with Mirko because she’s the love of his life so there! But Keigo has always hated lying and he knows the answer is no to all of the above. So he opts instead to say “I don’t see how that’s relevant.” “I give up. When Mirko inevitably slaps you or this otherwise blows up in your face at least try not to let it happen in front of paparazzi. Endeavor is very proud we’ve been bad headline free this month,” Tokoyami sighs before turning the opposite direction and leaving Hawks to his own devices.

“One question remains (y/n),” Katsuki announces to you as you both finish your drinks. “And what would that be?” you giggle. “Who are we taking home tonight? Or I guess who am I taking home and who are you convincing to take you to their home since you’re technically homeless,” he elaborates. “We told Midoriya we’d stay here and he could escort us back home so he wouldn’t have to worry,” you reply. “You were actually going to listen?” “No I was gonna sneak off during the speeches to bang someone and then be back here in time for Midoriya to escort us home.” “Smart woman.” “Thank you.” “So who are you thinking?” he asks.

Your eyes scan the banquet hall before finally alighting on a pair of red wings. He’s wearing a black suit with a tie and mask to match the color of his wings. His sandy blonde hair is wild and you wonder if it was styled that way or if the man had flown here and made it that way. Something about him is magnetic and you can’t explain why but you have a strong desire to follow its pull. “I may have found someone, not sure yet,” you hedge. Bakugo hums in acknowledgment as he too scans around the hall. “Why are you bothering to look?” you ask. “The fuck are you on about?” he questions back. “We both know you’re big gay for Red Riot. I would bet you have been since high school,” you tease. “Shut up,” Bakugo grouses. “Am I wrong though? He’s gotta be around here somewhere,” you say looking around. You finally spot the tell tale red hair of the man Bakugo once drunkenly confessed to you he lusts after. “There he is,” you grin. “I swear to god dumbass,” Bakugo warns, looking suddenly nervous. You roll your eyes and flag down one last glass of champagne. You press it into Bakugo’s hands and then you look him in the eye with all the seriousness your tipsy ass can muster. “Listen here Katsuki. Take this liquid courage, down it in one go, march right up to that sexy ass motherfucker and whisk him off his goddamn feet. You are Katsuki motherfucking Bakugo aka Dynamight aka explosion murder GOD, the number three hero in Japan. Now go get your mans,” you tell him. You watch his crimson eyes fill with determination and you have to resist laughing at the way he looks eerily similar to how he does before a particularly daunting battle. “I’m gonna do it,” he decides. “Fuck yes!” you encourage as he knocks back the champagne before passing you the empty glass and storming over to where Kirishima is.

Meanwhile Hawks is still searching for Mirko when he lays eyes on you instead. It’s like everything else stops. The rest of the world fades away as he watches you talk with Bakugo. There’s something about how casual and wild and free you look, even dressed as elegantly as you are. There’s something different about you and he can’t peel his eyes away. How has he never seen you before? Surely he would’ve noticed someone as captivating as you sooner. The speeches are due to start soon and he really should find a seat or something, but then Bakugo leaves and you’re standing there all alone and Hawks’ feet are taking him over to you without his brain having consciously decided to do so. “Mind if I join you?” he asks before he can talk himself out of it, taking a spot next to you leaning against the table. “Not at all,” you reply with a grin. Mirko walks right past the two of you and he doesn’t even notice, too caught up in your smile and your voice. God your voice is just as beautiful as the rest of you. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before,” Hawks admits. “I could say the same to you,” you fire back. “Trust me this isn’t my first rodeo around here. But I’d remember someone as stunning as you coming to one of these,” Hawks replies easily. “Probably not if I was on another man’s arm,” you admit. “Oh, you have a boyfriend.” “Had a fiancé. Now I’m free,” you pause, looking him up and down, “well free as a bird I guess,” you finish smirking. Hawks laughs at that. “Wow, I definitely haven’t heard that one a million times,” he teases you. “I never said I was creative, just that I was free,” you tell him. When your eyes meet again it’s like a million volts have shot through your gazes and suddenly you’re hungry for him in a way you haven’t been hungry for anyone in a very long time. The lights dim as the first speaker takes the stage, out of the corner of your eye you notice a familiar blonde head leading a red one out of the room. A quick search soon reveals Midoriya eagerly watching the stage for whatever crusty retiree is about to speak. Basically, the coast is clear. “As much as I would love to listen to a bunch of old people recount stories of their hero glory days, what do you say you and I sneak over to the hotel bar for a drink,” you offer. “I’d like nothing more,” Hawks grins.

As it turns out the hotel bar is closed, but you and Hawks have no intentions of letting that stop your fun. After a quick check for security cameras or nosy bystanders, you reach out with your quirk and carefully bring a nice bottle of hard liquor from behind the bar. You promptly pass it to Hawks who raises an eyebrow at you. “I’ve been drinking most of the night, you sir need to catch up,” you explain cheekily. “Fair enough,” Hawks laughs. He cracks open the bottle and takes a long pull from it, wincing a little as it burns down his throat. “Now where to since the bar isn’t an option?” he asks. You pause and think for a moment before coming up with an idea. “Follow me,” you whisper conspiratorially before grabbing Hawks’ hand and dragging him down the hall to the stairs, both of you abandoning your masks as you go.

Hawks has never done anything this wild and reckless before. Regardless of the press’s perception of him, Hawks has had a highly regimented life since the HPSC took him in, and his sense of duty and responsibility had only grown since he properly began his career. Sure, he’s had a few girlfriends over the years, but he truly was looking for love in every one of them. Yes, even the ones after Mirko.

You are something different entirely. What he felt for all of them combined could not compare to the feelings racing through him now as the two of you run up the stairs two at a time, the sound of your footsteps echoing up the tight stairwell. He can’t take it anymore and when the two of you reach the next landing he tugs you into him by your hand and kisses you. He can taste the champagne on your tongue but there’s also something uniquely you in the kiss that he can’t get enough of. So he takes and takes and takes like a man starving and you’re all too happy to give it to him. When you two stop to catch your breath you whisper, “come on, we’re almost there,” and then press another kiss to his lips quickly before tugging him out the door into the hallway.

You keep going until you finally find the door you’re looking for. When you try the handle it’s locked but you’re not concerned. You bend down and extend your quirk into the lock, closing your eyes so you can concentrate. You can feel the different tumblers and get to work pushing at each one experimentally until they click into the proper position and the door unlocks. You grin and push the door open. “After you,” you say. “That’s a neat party trick. You sure you’re a hero?” Hawks teases as he steps into the room. As he finally turns to take it in he realizes you’ve brought him to the hotel pool. “I’m sure,” you laugh, “just grew up a bit rougher than most have. Lockpicking is pretty simple to be honest. Regardless, we should have this place to ourselves.” Hawks can relate but he’s not allowed to tell you that, so instead he asks “Oh really?” “Really.” “Wonder what we should get up to then,” he muses before suddenly pushing you into the water.

It takes a half a second for you to register what’s happening and then you’re plunging under the surface of the water. You quickly resurface and you want to be pissed but your mystery man is laughing and it’s so beautiful it’s as if the sun itself is contained within his smile. Something tells you he doesn’t laugh like this much, so, instead of getting angry, you decide to get even. “Oh you think that’s funny bird boy?” you ask. “I do,” he grins down at you as he stands what he thinks is a safe distance away from the pool’s edge. “Then why don’t you come join me,” you smile back. You reach out with your quirk, feeling it wrap around his body and then tug. You can see the shocked look on his face as your quirk drags him to the water’s edge and then unceremoniously dumps him in the water. As he comes up for air, shaking water out of his hair he looks so affronted but you can see the amusement there too. He hadn’t expected you to retaliate. So now it’s your turn to laugh. Even though your dress is probably ruined and your perfectly styled hair definitely is for the night, you laugh in a way you haven’t in ages. “Oh it’s on now,” Hawks declares and suddenly the two of you are splashing each other like children, both trying to use your quirks to gain an advantage. It’s crazy and chaotic and soon splashing turns to all but wrestling and when he finally has you pinned against him and immobilized, your back to his chest and his arms holding you tightly so you can’t squirm away, both of you stop. You both try to catch your breath, the sound of the water and your heavy breathing echoing off the pool walls. You can feel his growing erection pressing against you and you know how the rest of this will go. You’ve got an impressive resume of one night stand experience, have heard all the lines, so you’re prepared for whichever one he’s about to use. At least you think you are. “I’ve never met anyone like you before,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, “I don’t usually do stuff like this. Someone like you is new to me.” You’re about to roll your eyes when you notice his hands are shaking and it occurs to you that he must mean every word.

You hadn’t expected that. Not at all. This is different than those one night stands. He’s different. The scariest part is that this is new for you too. You don’t do play fighting in the pool. Even with Monoma there had been no magic in the relationship. It was a necessary work deal and then it morphed into something comfortable. When you invited Hawks to the bar you had just meant to drag him away for sex and then leave to go back to the gala the minute you both were satisfied. You’d weather Midoriya’s concerned look and Bakugo would high five you and then you’d forget about the mystery man with the red wings. You turn in his arms, your eyes meet his golden ones, and immediately your heartbeat is kicking in your chest. This is not that. This is more than that.

And that fucking terrifies you.

Before you can fully panic Hawks is kissing you with an intensity you can appreciate and a yearning you are shocked by but can relate to all the same. This is a one night deal. That’s how these things go. But there’s a small, traitorous part of you screaming that it doesn’t have to be this way. So you kiss him like this is the first of many to satiate that small part of you, but you also kiss him like it’s the last one ever because you know that’s the more likely option. You kiss him until kissing isn’t enough and your hands move to push his suit jacket off. He catches onto the memo quickly and removes his jacket easily before tossing it aside. He goes to remove his shirt and fumbles, Jesus Christ his hands are still shaking, so you replace his with yours and carefully begin to undo each button as he instead reaches to pull down the zipper of your dress. Between the two of you and your quirks it isn’t much longer until you’re both naked, pressed together, your clothes laid out on the side in the vague hope they’ll be drier by the time the two of you have to leave the haven you’ve created. You don’t even notice that Hawks is walking you backwards until you feel the pool ledge against your back but small details like that feel irrelevant when he’s got one hand on your waist to keep you steady and the other on your breast to thumb at your sensitive nipple.

“Up,” he commands and it sends a bit of a shiver down your spine as you obediently hop up onto the ledge. You expected him to join you but he doesn’t, instead grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer to him. It’s interesting looking down on him like this but you think you could get addicted to the hungry look in his eyes. He slowly spreads your thighs apart, maintaining eye contact in a silent request for permission as you realize what he has planned for you. You give a short nod and then he’s diving in, his tongue immediately licking up along your folds. You shudder and your grip on the pool ledge tightens as he finds your clit and begins to lavish attention on it, licking at and sucking on the sensitive nub. You think you could get off on that alone but then he switches focus, not wanting to end things too quickly, as he instead begins to tongue fuck you like his life depends on it. You throw your head back and moan as you feel his tongue sliding in and out of you, his nose occasionally brushing over your still sensitive clit. He reaches one hand up to give your nipples some attention too and soon you can’t help the keening noises that spill from your lips unbidden. You card one hand through his hair and then grab onto some of the locks as you press him in deeper, helping guide him and that magic tongue of his exactly where you want it. It doesn’t take much longer after that for you to reach climax and the look of smug satisfaction on his face after has you hungry for more of him.

You’d let him be the boss so far but it’s your turn now. “I need you up here now bird boy,” you pant as you try to catch your breath, tugging on his hair to emphasize your point. He looks a little bewildered but you can tell by the way his dick twitches he’s not opposed. “Yes ma’am,” he replies cheekily as he climbs out of the pool. As soon as he’s on the side with you you move to straddle his hips and his hands instinctively go to your waist. “Ready?” you ask and he quickly nods his head. You don’t need any more encouragement as you line yourself up and then slowly sink yourself down onto his dick. For some reason the moment you’ve fully sunk down and he’s buried all the way inside you is incredibly overwhelming. So overwhelming, in fact, you think you might cry. It’s inexplicable, but when your eyes meet Hawks’ you can tell he feels exactly the same. You stare at each other with watery eyes as he whispers “This is...” and trails off, shaking his head as he struggles to find the words to describe this moment. “Heaven in hiding,” you finish for him and it’s like something clicks into place in both your hearts. “Yea. This is heaven in hiding,” he confirms and then he’s kissing you and there’s something there you’re too terrified to identify but you still give it back to him.

You start moving, lifting your hips slowly before sinking back down onto him again and the way he whimpers into your mouth is intoxicating. He lets you control the rhythm as you ride his dick, instead focusing on trailing kisses down your neck as he rubs and pinches your nipples. You’re so incredibly tight around him that he can barely stand it. So he allows himself this surrender, allows himself to be lost in you and wholly unrestrained for the first time in a very, very long time. “Can I-?” you ask with your hand reaching for, but stopping just shy of, his wings so he can see what you’re doing and decide first. He drops his hands to your waist to still you for a second as he stares at your face in wonder almost. “No one’s bothered to ask before,” he confesses and he hadn’t really realized how much that bothered him until now. “They should’ve,” you reply simply. He takes hold of one of your hands and brings it to his mouth to press a kiss to your knuckles before guiding your hand to one of his wings. You carefully run your hands through the feathers beneath your fingertips, shocked at their softness, and notice the way he shivers at the touch. “Are they sensitive?” you ask curiously as you continue to stroke them. “Fuck. Yes baby, very,” he groans as he leans forward to rest his head against your shoulder, his grip on your hips tightening. You experimentally clench your fist around a handful of the feathers and tug slightly, immediately his hips buck up into you and he groans. “It’s ok I’ve got you,” you tell him. He pulls back so he can finally look into your eyes again and quietly replies “I know.”

You’re not even sure who initiated it this time when the two of you begin kissing each other again. You start riding him again, the two of you quickly finding a tender rhythm together to move in sync. His wings flare and puff up behind him as if loving the sudden attention you’re giving them and as you continue to stroke through them Hawks brings one of his hands to your clit to provide extra stimulation to you too. Your moans echo back to you and it’s like the two of you are creating a symphony in this little safe haven you’ve created for yourselves in the hotel pool and it’s all so much. Almost too much. You can feel tears on your cheeks and you’re not sure if they’re yours or his, but you don’t care. You don’t care in the slightest you just need him, all of him. Finally you give a particularly strong tug on his feathers and it’s enough to have him crying out as he reaches his orgasm. The feeling of him filling you up and the gorgeous picture he makes is enough to send you over the edge as well and there’s nothing either of you can do besides hold each other tightly, moans choking out of your throats like sobs as you’re overwhelmed by your climaxes and the unnamed feelings bursting between the two of you.

When the feeling finally passes it leaves both of you somewhat drained as you pant to catch your breath. Hawks carefully reaches a hand to your cheek and brushes away your tears. You’re more than happy to return the favor. Turns out both of you had been crying. “Was that as insane and overwhelming for you as it was me,” Hawks asks quietly. “Yea... Yea it really fucking was,” you confess. “Good,” Hawks replies before pressing another sweet kiss to your lips. Both of you have the distinct thought, “I could stay like this forever,” at the same time, but it would seem the universe has other plans.

Your quiet moment is disturbed by the sound of an alarm blaring overhead. You both curse your luck but still are in no hurry to move. You carefully remove yourself from his dick, trying diligently to ignore how obscene it looks to watch his cum start to dribble out of you and how it feels like a loss for it not to stay. Hawks seems to be having similar thoughts but tears his eyes away as he goes to get dressed. You use your quirk to squeeze out as much water as you can from your dress without further damaging it. The alarm is still blaring and you’re both well aware you should be moving with more urgency but it’s hard to make yourselves leave the little world you created for yourselves in here. Once you’re both redressed you quietly clasp each other’s hands and finally leave the room.

The alarm is even louder in the hallway and it’s like the magic of the previous moment is shattered by it. “We probably should arrive separately. Avoid scandal and all that,” you say. “You’re right,” he admits. Neither of you let go of the other’s hand. Finally you sigh, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, before slipping your hand from his and heading the opposite direction. You both jog away in a bid to exit the building and figure out what’s going on when a thought strikes you. You don’t know each other’s names. You decide it’s for the best. Hawks spins around to try and catch up to you and ask but you’re already gone. It feels like an ending.

It’s actually only the beginning.

Author’s Note: I typically try to keep the reader’s quirk nonspecific in my work because I know a lot of people have ideas of what they’d want their quirk to be if they were in the MHA universe but (y/n)’s quirk has plot relevance so I gave her a specific one. She can move objects with her mind (telekinesis) but she feels it almost like a physical sensation, as if there’s an invisible extension of herself reaching out to grab things. It’s why she can use it for something as specific as picking a lock. As y’all can see this one got away from me lol but I hope it’s worth the wait. OH ALSO the pool scene is inspired by the one from Baz Luhrman’s Romeo and Juliet.

Taglist [open]: @akkaso @cathy8taffy @eeppff

[dontmindmyshadowhunting]

The new Shadowhunter Academy - Fan Fic (Chapter 6 - Staying Alive)

Chapter 6 of the new Shadowhunter Academy (fan fic) is out! ;)

Kit & Ty are both at the Academy for a few days to act as guest lecturers :)

Dru is attending of course, and an unexpected guest might show up :)

AO3 link to Chapter 6 - Staying Alive

Link to entire fic up until Chapter 6 is here (fair warning - there is explicit content in Chapter 4 so skip it if you want to avoid it ;)).

****

Kit was ten minutes late. It wasn’t a big deal but given the students’ eagerness to learn from the famous Christopher Herondale, it seemed like hours of anxious babbling that he might not show up.

Dru was starting to wonder about that herself.

When the door of the training room finally opened, Kit’s cheeks were flushed, his blond curls soaking wet - as if he had just come out of the shower - and he looked… pissed. Like he wanted to be anywhere but in that room.

“What am I to teach you for the next hour?” He snapped.

“Spear?” Daniel, one of Simon’s mundane recruits, replied. He was an enthusiastic student who had been nicknamed “Harry Potter” on his first day at the Academy because of the resemblance he bore to the hero from the eponymous books (if said hero had acne problems).

“Oh, right. Spear.” Kit grumbled as he grabbed one from the table filled with multi-sized weapons and twirled it gracefully – the circle moves almost a blur – before instantly stilling it into a horizontal position in front of him. “See that pointed head? Well, you put that right through your opponent’s body. Preferably hit a vital organ.” He threw it toward the dummy placed at the far end of the room. The spear pierced straight through its chest where the heart should be. “Like that.” The students started applauding.

“That’s it. That’s the lecture.” Kit whirled and started toward the door. He stopped short before the figure of Catarina Loss barring the door. She looked furious, her blue complexion a shade deeper than usual.

“KIT HERONDALE, you go back in there and I don’t care if you look at your fingernails for the next hour, you are NOT LEAVING THIS ROOM.”

For the rest of the class, Catarina remained seated on a big granny armchair she had conjured up, in front of the door, knitting a tiny pink pullover (probably for Mina), while Kit told the students everything they needed to know about spears. As it turned out, he was an excellent teacher, and aside from technique, had several stories and anecdotes to share about these weapons, and their history through the ages. He certainly knew how to catch his audience with witty jokes and, yes, Dru had to admit, his Herondale charm and good looks.

****

He wasn’t what Henry had expected. Not by a long shot.

First, he looked nothing like his sister Drusilla, whom Henry shared most classes with. He had gray eyes - the color of iron - where hers were blue-green, and his hair was crow dark where his sister’s were a deep, warm brown. He knew that the Blackthorn siblings were born from two different mothers, but didn’t he have a twin who died during the Cold Peace, and who shared Drusilla’s traits? He had been too young to fight at the time but Henry had seen Julian Blackthorn on a big screen in Idris right before the battle of the Imperishable Fields and he definitely looked like his sister.

To be honest, when the rumour had spread that the best Centurion of his generation - and the creator of several groundbreaking inventions - had finally decided to make an appearance at the Academy, Henry had imagined a crazy inventor wearing oversized safety goggles and a dusty lab coat. Obviously not some Adonis, who looked like he belonged more on a runway than in a library or a lab.

Second, he was more than a little surprised to discover that he was shy and reserved, for a Blackthorn that was. His rigid stance and the way he kept stroking the pendant tied around his neck, to quote only a few tells, betrayed how nervous he was. The whole character was a mystery to him. If he had his reputation - hell, if he had his looks - Henry would probably be parading around like a peacock.

“I am curious. So we are going to start with a question,” the teacher said, his expression bemused and his gaze fixed above the students’ heads toward the far end corner of the room. Most of the time, Henry had noticed, it looked like he wasn’t really addressing them. “Why do you want to become Centurions?”

Several voices erupted at the same time, and he flinched, before lifting a halting hand. “Please. Speak when you are granted permission to.”

The voices subsided and several students raised their hands instead, including Henry.

“Gillian?” He asked as his gaze flickered to her. Henry realized that he never looked anyone directly in the eye.

“Because I want to study faerie lore, the real deal, not the load of crap they teach you at the Academy,” she said smugly, and most students sniggered approvingly.

The Centurion’s lips twitched but he nodded in acknowledgement.

“Henry?”

“Because we get to wear that hot uniform,” he replied, giving the Blackthorn teacher a slow once over.

There was a collective roar of laughter in the classroom. The Centurion just nodded, straight-faced, as if it was as good an answer as any. Henry realized that he was starting to like him.

“Shut up, Henry.” Her Highness Amber Cartwright said as she entered the class. She shooed a student from his seat in the front row and sat there. “I am sorry for being late, Professor Blackthorn,” she said in a sultry voice, as she crossed her long legs in an exaggerated gesture.

The teacher spared her a brief glance. Henry braced himself for the double take - everyone, boys and girls alike, did a double take upon beholding Amber for the first time - but... nothing. The Centurion’s face remained impassive. Moving on. There is definitely something off with him, Henry thought. He is either half-blind and not wearing his binoculars or one fucking hundred percent gay.

“Call me Tiberius. I believe we are all around the same age.”

Amber beamed, her usual scowling face alight. “Okay. Tiberius,” she said, her voice caressing his name.

“And you are…?”

“Amber Grace Cartwright,” she said proudly, as she brushed her fingers through her blond hair.

Tiberius moved to his desk and furrowed his brows as his gray eyes scanned the paper lying there.

“You are not on my list.”

Amber’s face fell a little. “I know, I did not initially register for these training sessions, but Talib agreed to give me his spot. You see, I changed my mind and I really really want to become a Centurion someday.” Henry wondered how she had managed to convince Talib. Only the twenty most promising students - among those interested in becoming Centurions, and Amber had never expressed such an interest - were allowed to follow the course and there was a waiting list.

The teacher just lifted a dark eyebrow. “Oh. Okay.” They all waited as he sat at his desk and started scribbling on the paper, dark curls falling over his face as he bent his head. He was nothing if not meticulous. At the start of the class, he had asked, one by one, each student’s name. Henry had the feeling he had memorized all twenty of them. “Xian?” He asked without looking up.

The girl’s eyes widened and she whipped her head right and left, wondering whether he really was addressing her. As if there was another Xian in the classroom.

“Yes, Pro- Tiberius?”

“You don’t need to pass that folded paper on to your friend Barbara, I can provide the answer to your question.”

“Oh.” She flushed a deep red, and hastily crumpled the paper that she had been clutching under the table. Henry wondered what the message had been about.

“The answer is no. I don’t provide my personal number to students, but if you want to communicate with me, you may either send a fire message or a letter to my attention at the Scholomance, depending on the urgency of the matter.”

His tone was even, his face serious, as if he hadn’t meant to humiliate the girl, but simply state a fact. A low chatter erupted in the class, students casting worried glances at each other. Henry wondered himself how the Centurion had managed to read Xian’s paper when he was seated at the desk in front of the class, a few feet from her. The only one who didn’t seem troubled by that was Amber, who turned to glare at her friend. Xian stuck her tongue out in turn. Oh, Henry thought. Let the Hunger Games begin.

****

After a short recess, the students had another hour of training with Kit.

“As you well know, Shadowhunters use Runes to heal faster when they are injured in battle. Sometimes, it’s all that you need. But other times, a wound needs to be tended before an Iratze is applied. For instance, if you have foreign bodies in your wounds, you have to take them out before using your stele. Except, of course, when it would do much more harm to retrieve them, for instance if it's an arrow. Also, and although you should carry a stele with you at all times, situations may occur when you are without them. Finally, although we have a stronger constitution and heal faster, us Shadowhunters are humans, and we suffer the same diseases as mundanes. We can faint. We can die of a heart attack. We can die of blood loss following a car crash. Therefore, it’s important - and Catarina shares my view on this - to train you in first aid.” A crooked smile lit up his gorgeous face, his blue eyes glinting mischievously. “So who wants to be my dummy?”

All students - save for Dru - raised their hands eagerly. Brianna actually elbowed the girl next to her so she would put her own hand down.

“Drusilla Blackthorn,” Kit announced, with a smirk on his face.

Dru rolled her eyes and came to stand next to him.

“I think it’s more efficient to work on the basis of real-life situations’ simulations. So, what happened to my dummy in this scenario?”

“She fainted!” A student said.

Several students giggled.

“Okay,” Kit said, then looked over expectantly at Dru.

She rolled her eyes again and mimed fainting. As she lay still on the floor, she wondered if he would consider them even after the demonstration or continue to make her pay for the trick she had pulled earlier that day.

Kit knelt next to her.

“Is she conscious or unconscious?” He asked.

“Unconscious!” Another student said.

“Dru, close your eyes,” he said. She did as requested, letting out a deep sigh. “Okay, so how do you check whether or not someone is unconscious?” He asked, and she felt his fingers brush her hand, then he pinched her. She swallowed a swear word.

“Dummy? Dummy? Can you hear me? If you can hear me, blink or move your fingers. No answer. So you can assume she’s unconscious. Next step: you have to check if she breathes.”

She felt Kit’s fingers gently cupping her chin and forehead and tilting her head backwards. He pulled her lips open. “Check the airway first. If the throat is clear…” His hair tickled her face, and the Blackthorn locket grazed her jawline, as Kit leaned over to put his ear directly above her mouth. “See what I am doing? I am checking for a breathing sound while observing the rise and fall of her chest. So, tell me, is she breathing?”

“No,” a student said. Dru recognized Brianna’s voice. You will pay for this, roomie, Dru thought.

“Okay.” Dru realized Kit’s voice trembled a bit. She opened her eyes and saw the conflict in his gaze. What was the matter? “If you are with someone else, that person must go fetch a defibrillator that’s now in every patrol car. If you are alone, you can’t leave the patient so you must call for help. Do not - and I repeat - do not leave your patient’s side to do that. You must practice CPR at once.”

Realization dawned on Dru. Oh, bugger.

“In a real-life situation,” Kit said, drawing the words out. “You should… take your patient’s shirt off or - more accurately - rip it open.” He flinched as he said the last words, but swiftly regained his composure. She had to give him credit for his professionalism. “You must give chest compressions on bare skin. In our case though…”

Dru smirked. “Didn’t think it through, did you?” She whispered to Kit. Seeing his look of dismay, witnessing him trip over himself, was surprisingly satisfying, and if there was something Dru never missed, it was an opportunity to play a prank. Especially when she had been the intended victim of the stunt. She just couldn’t resist. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, and she became reckless. Act first think later became her course of action.

“That’s fine”, she said out loud as she sat up. She pulled the top of her gear off before lying back, wearing only her bra above her gear pants.

There were a few gasps in the crowd. Kit gulped.

“First of all, make sure your patient is lying on her back on a firm, dry surface. If there is blood, move the body away from it. I understand Catarina already taught you how to deal with hemorrhage.”

A few students mumbled a confirmation.

“You should push on the chest at a rate of 100 to 120 compressions per minute, which corresponds to the beat of several songs you can use to help you maintain the proper tempo.” He fiddled with his phone and the sound of “Stayin’ Alive” by the Bee Gees started playing.

Dru snorted. Kit was barely looking at her as he plowed on.

“Position your hands above your patient’s chest, like this. Interlock fingers. Then, give chest compressions. Like this.”

Dru tried to hide a smile. Kit’s palm was sweaty against her bare skin. He was flushing a deep red, his face a mask of embarrassment. Punk’d, she thought. Had he known he would be giving chest compressions to Dru - that he considered like a little sister - he would have thought twice about using her as a dummy.

He stopped abruptly, after thirty compressions. “Okay, we are… going to stop here for today.”

“What about the rescue breath?”

“I’ll show you next time,” he choked, as he stood and almost tripped on his feet scouting back. It seemed like he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.

“Does… anyone have any questions on CPR before we move to another exercize?”

“Yeah,” Talib raised his hand. Shit. Not him, Dru thought. What the hell was he doing here anyway, wasn’t he supposed to follow the Scholomance training course?

Kit nodded to him.

“Is that the Blackthorn locket you are wearing?”

Kit’s mouth dropped open. Dru tensed. She knew that Ty had asked that they keep their relationship a secret. Only family and very close friends were in the know. Not because Ty was ashamed, far from it. But because, as a Centurion, he was entrusted with all missions related to the First Heir, and that would change as soon as the Scholomance found out how involved Ty was with the subject of his investigations. Ty didn’t trust anyone else with these missions, so he had begged Helen and Aline not to tell the Penhallows about Kit and him, even though the identity of the First Heir remained a secret to most. One could never be too cautious.

Watching his face fall, the glint of panic in his azur eyes, Dru started to feel really bad for the Herondale boy. She knew that if he had been allowed, he would have screamed his love for Ty at the top of his lungs, from the Academy’s roof. Instead, he lowered his gaze to his feet, swallowing hard.

“Yeah, it’s mine,” Dru blurted. “Seriously, Kit? I told you not to wear it at the Academy!”

Kit whipped his head up in surprise, his blue eyes wide and questioning. He looked like he was about to say something, but Dru wouldn’t give him a chance to deny. What was done was done. She whirled around and retreated to a corner of the training room, bowing her head in order to conceal the blush that had started creeping up her face.

****

“Do you know who founded the Scholomance?” The Centurion teacher asked.

Amber was the only one who raised her hand.

“Amber?”

“It was originally founded by an alliance between the Fair Folk and prominent Shadowhunter families.”

Most of the students gasped. Everyone turned a questioning look at Tiberius, whose lips quirked. “Correct. This is not common knowledge, to say the least. How have you learnt about it?”

“I read a lot and… I may have borrowed some of my brother’s notes. Cartwrights have been filling the ranks of Centurions for generations.”

“But…” Barbara said, looking confused. “I thought the whole purpose of the Scholomance was to investigate all Downworlders, especially faeries, since they are the Nephilim who possess the most extensive knowledge about them.”

“And where do you think the Centurions got their knowledge from?” Amber snapped.

“Why would the Nephilim create a school with Downworlders?” Xian interjected.

“About that,” Tiberius intervened. “The classification of faeries as Downworlders is not entirely accurate and has been challenged over the past few years. Contrary to general belief, some of the Fair Folk species do not have any demon blood. Maybe you’d like to carry on, Miss Cartwright.”

Amber pursued, with a smug look on her face.

“As the story goes, not long after the creation of the Nephilim, the Angel warriors and the Fair Folk made an alliance to protect the Earth from demon invasion. They shared their knowledge - the fey teaching the Nephilim how to use magic in the school they created together, a sort of real life Hogwarts - and even… consorted. After all, the biggest problem that the fey have been facing in the past centuries is the thinning of their blood. Why not mix it with that of Raziel’s chosen warriors? Ultimately, a union was arranged between the Faerie King and a member of a highly respected and powerful Nephilim family. Not all fairies were happy with the union and there was a secession. The Faerie lands were split between two courts from then on. The Unseelie court, choosing to acknowledge a Nephilim queen, considering her as part of the fey royal family, ara nothlir, and the Seelie court, refusing the Angel warriors’ influence.”

She paused to watch the effect of her words on the wide-eyed students.

“The Nephilim queen was not immortal but the King used his magic to stretch out her years. Although they were happy, they had to rule in troubled times. The strong divergence in traits, opinions and customs between the Fair Folk and Shadowhunters soon drew them apart. Raziel’s warriors criticized the fey for being cunning and strongly disapproved of the tricks they played on mundanes and the creation of changelings. Faeries thought Shadowhunters to be ruthless, overbearing and contemptuous.

The Unseelie king’s death - it came as a shock, everyone thought the mortal Nephilim queen was bound to die before him - without any heir being born from their union, was a fatal blow to the alliance. Unseelie laws were clear, the queen dowager no longer held any claim to the throne - the full fey blooded prince Arawn succeeded to his father - and she hid in Faerie under the protection of a few Nephilim who swore to protect her. They could easily be distinguished from the red caps as they wore black cloaks identifying them as Angel warriors. They were not sanctioned by the Clave though, which preferred to sever all ties to the Fair Folk. With the magic they had learnt from the fey, these protectors created an enchanted wall of thorns surrounding the tower where the Shadowhunter queen and her family lay low for hundreds of years.

When an heir was born from the union of the Seelie Queen and Unseelie King, most Nephilim took it as the last stroke of the Fair Folk’s betrayal. It didn’t help that there were whispers about a prophecy stating that the world would fall to shadow under the First Heir’s ruling. So began the witch hunt, the primary target being the cursed descendant. That’s how Centurions began to use the knowledge they had collected from their former allies at the Scholomance against them.

The chase officially ceased when the disappearance of the First Heir was officially announced by the Unseelie Court and the tensions between the Nephilim and the fey eased until they finally made peace with the signing of the First Accords in 1872. The Scholomance was closed then, as a show of good faith that Downworlders and Shadowhunters were no longer at war.”

“What has become of the Nephilim queen’s family?” Henry blurted.

Amber turned to look at him. She was positively gloating.

“They had nothing to be blamed for, so the Clave as well as the Fair Folk let them be after the signing of the First Accords. After all, they were a very influential family to begin with. So, they are still among us.”

“Who are they?”

“Before King Arawn changed the Unseelie Court’s sigil, the symbol was that of a full crown…adorned with a rose, symbol of his father’s attachment to the Lady of Roses,” she said mysteriously.

“The Nephilim queen’s descendants are known as the Rosales,” Tiberius specified evenly.

A low chatter erupted and the words “Inquisitor”, “Diego” and “Cristina” were thrown around repeatedly. They all knew the Council kept a lot of secrets, but the fact that the current Inquisitor belonged to a family that had forged an alliance with the fey in the past, confirmed how little they really knew about Shadowhunter politics.

“And what about their protectors?” A voice suddenly raised from a corner of the classroom.

Amber turned to look at the Centurion who nodded imperceptibly.

“Easy,” she said. “They were released from their oath a long time ago but they have kept their Shadowhunter names. Some say the earlier generations had sharp, elven features due to their closeness to - and interbreeding with - the Fair Folk. They were black cloaked warriors guarding the queen’s family like thorns protecting the delicate rose from its predators. They called themselves the Black Thorns.”

As the students suddenly burst into commotion, Henry’s gaze focused on Tiberius, who stood straight like an arrow, his expression unfathomable. He had a feeling there was more to the story but, whatever it was, Henry knew he would have to swear the Centurion vows before being allowed to hear it.

****

Being a Shadowhunter had major downsides. No matter how hard you tried to shut yourself from your environment, your highly trained senses betrayed you by fulfilling their role like obedient little soldiers.

Dru had never better understood Ty’s need for headphones as she weaved a path in the main hall towards the exit - she wanted to crawl in her bed and hide there until at least the next morning - and tried to ignore the glares and angry whispers that followed her.

“Seriously? Christopher Herondale and Drusilla Blackthorn? It’s like some stupid chick flick where the hot jock hooks up with the weird geek.”

“He’s probably with her because she’s easy. Did you see her take her shirt off in the training room like it was no big deal?”

“Oh, come on, every girl does that here. We’re warriors, we undress to draw Runes on each other all the time. And how is it different from when we train in sports bras when it’s summer?” Well, Dru was relieved to hear at least some girls had her back...

“It’s different when you have a pair of breasts like hers.”

“Right. Tell me about it. Best boobs at the Academy.”

“Yeah, I would definitely hit that.”

“You’re kidding? That girl’s creepy, I would be afraid to be strangled in my sleep.”

“What does he see in her anyway? She has a pretty face, but she dresses like a Goth freak. And don’t get me started on the size of her thighs...”

Dru never allowed anyone to say a single bad thing about her family and friends. But where her own securities were concerned, she was like an open wound anyone could poke. Dru bit back tears as she hurried her footsteps. She needed air. Fresh air.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and whipped her head around. It was Brianna.

“Seriously, Dru? Why didn’t you just tell me before I made a fool of myself?”

“Brianna. I just gave him a necklace. I am not dating him or anything. He’s just a member of Livia’s Watch, that's all. Hence the locket.” Why had she not thought of that excuse earlier?

Brianna lifted her eyebrow dubiously. Dru felt her temper rising.

“Fine.” She snapped. “Believe me or not, I don't CARE.”

NNNNEEEEW YOOOORK. They both startled as the voice of Alicia Keys suddenly blazed through the main hall’s stone walls.

As one, all the students rushed outside to see where the noise came from. Brianna and Dru exchanged puzzled glances before following them wearily out of the wide double front doors.

Dru blinked and, when her eyes finally adjusted to the sunlight, tried to hide her shock as she took in the incongruous sight.

In the Academy’s front yard, a crowd had already started to gather in a circle around the main attraction, giving it a wide berth.

A splendid charcoal grey convertible car was parked at the center of it, as if it had appeared there by magic. "Empire State of Mind" by Jay-Z and Alicia Keys was playing full on from the vehicle’s sound system.

Leaning casually against the hood of the car with his arms crossed was the tall figure of Ash Morgenstern. His platinum blond hair was peeking out of a green beanie and he wore an elegant gray cashmere coat that made him look like a British gentleman.

In the back of her mind, several questions buzzed like little alarms. Was he not supposed to be under house arrest? What the hell was he thinking showing up in front of the Academy ? Where did he get the car anyway?

But foremost in her mind was Ash. It’s Ash. It’s really Ash. How gorgeous he was - even more so than she remembered - and how she had never felt more relieved to see anyone in her whole life. She had missed him, she realized with surprise.

Ash straightened up and gave Dru a crooked smile as soon as he caught sight of her.

She couldn’t help it, she ran to him and threw her arms around his slender neck, burying her face in his chest. He smelled of aftershave, a sophisticated fragrance of amber, sandalwood, mandarin and jasmine. Ash stiffened at first, obviously startled by her sudden display of affection, then relaxed and squeezed her tighter.

“If I had known I would receive such a warm welcome, I would have broken out of jail sooner,” he whispered in her ear.

She drew back and shook her head disapprovingly, though a grin was still plastered on her face.

“What on earth are you doing here, Ash?”

“I have come to rescue my Queen.”

“Rescue me? From what?”

“Food poisoning, of course. You told me it was awful here. I was in the neighborhood and it just so happens that I know a perfect French restaurant in Manhattan.”

“And so you decided to break out of your confinement and show up at the Academy in a flashy sports car?”

He shrugged. “I thought it would be a more inconspicuous way of traveling.”

“Inconspicuous? Really? As compared to what?”

He raised a silvery eyebrow. “Flapping my dark wings?”

“Where are you going with my sister?” Ty demanded with a frown as he marched towards them, his voice louder than usual, probably due to the headphones covering his ears.

“Manhattan. For dinner.”

“It’s not safe,” he said, then glanced at the vehicle. “Is that an Aston Martin DB9 GT Volante?”

“What’s not safe?” Ash asked. “My company? The car? The whole idea of a crazy night out?”

“All of the above,” Ty answered, his gray eyes like saucers, still fixed on the car.

“Oh, so now you care about where I go and who I am with?” Dru intervened.

Ty’s gaze snapped back to her, and his eyes crinkled in confusion.

“Of course I do. Why do you ask? Wait- Are you… angry with me?”

“Of course I am! I had to find out you were at the Academy by eavesdropping on fellow students!” She was grateful the music was loud and the observers far enough that they could not overhear their conversation.

Ty’s eyes widened and his jaw went slack. “But... But I wasn’t sure I was coming until this morning. I didn’t want to tell you before I was certain. I thought you would be happy to see me.”

“Yes, Ty, I am happy to see you. But I started at the Academy months ago, and you have only decided to show up today! We both know who convinced you, and it certainly wasn’t me.”

The look of hurt on Ty’s face almost made her regret her words. As if on cue, Kit suddenly appeared, coming from the opposite direction to where Ty was standing. Dru realized with a pang that they were purposefully avoiding being seen together and maintaining a safe distance between them.

“Hey guys, I think I missed the invitation to the party,” Kit said playfully, but Dru knew him and could sense that his heart wasn’t in it. He was just trying to ease the tension.

“You didn’t miss anything,” Dru replied sharply. “Ash and I were leaving.” Ty opened his mouth to object but she cut him. “And you, Ty, do not get to tell me what to do.”

“Where your safety is concerned, I do,” Ty snapped back, red starting to creep up his white neck. His hands were now fluttering at his sides.

“If you’re worried about her safety, Ty, why don’t you come with us?” Ash offered in peace. “You too, Kit. Raziel knows we all need to… let off steam.” He looked like he was holding in a laugh and Dru wondered whether she was missing a private joke.

Ty’s gaze flickered to Kit then, and their eyes met for a brief second before they both hastily looked away. They were clearly blushing now, Ty nervously stroking his heron pendant and Kit thrusting his hands in his pockets and staring at his feet.

“I can’t,” Kit said, kicking a pebble. “I have to stay here where I am protected. Catarina and my parents will kill me if they know I left the Academy’s grounds.”

Ash raised an eyebrow. “Tell me, Kit. Who would you rather have as bodyguards? Me and the badass Blackthorn siblings?” He said, gesturing at their little group. “Oooor… these frightened little squirrels posing as Academy students?” He pointed toward the crowd of students who were still gaping at him. And the car. But mostly at Ash.

“I guess you have a point,” Kit conceded.

“Okay,” Ty answered hesitantly, looking away.

“Then jump in, Angel warriors,” Ash said as he opened the door for Dru. She ignored it, and instead, grabbed the edge of the back door to jump inside and landed on the front passenger seat. “What? I have always wanted to do that!” She told him when he lifted his eyebrow at her. Ash laughed and shook his head as he rounded the car to take the driver’s seat. Kit and Ty crammed in the back - the space had definitely not been designed to hold two full-grown Shadowhunters - and immediately stared out the car, pointedly avoiding looking at each other.

Ash put the Aston Martin in gear, as the students parted to let them through. The engine's roar was deafening, almost drowning the sound of the music still blasting from the sound system. Dru felt exhilarated, gusts of wind carrying away all her resentment and worries as they blew her hair. Everything was perfect… save perhaps for one thing.

“Ash,” she called over the noise. “Can you turn the music down?”

He threw her a puzzled look, his hands tightening on the wheel.

“Why? I thought you’d like it. We are in New York after all.”

“It’s not my hometown,” she observed, winking at him.

He grinned as he fiddled with the dashboard and suddenly 2 PAC's "California Love" was booming full volume.

“Better?” He asked.

Her answering smile was so wide it almost hurt her cheeks.

“Not just better. Perfect.”

[jemmahazelnut]

Classmates

Summary: In this Modern AU Laxus and Freed are classmates but at first, they don't really get along. 5+1 style fic. [Freed/Laxus]

Links: AO3 - Fanfiction

I tried to write about a love born in school. I hope I’ve kept them in character enough even though they are in a different context (and they are younger). I hope you like it :)

Classmates (or 'Five times Freed and Laxus argued at school and the one time they didn't')

1-When Laxus tries to be kind

It had been a while since Laxus had noticed that boy with long green hair and, he had to admit it at least to himself, it intrigued him a little. Perhaps because of that strange color in his hair, so in contrast to his rigid way of behaving, perhaps because he was so different from all his classmates. So, they were all troublemakers while that guy was pretty calm. Okay, Laxus had also noticed his ass, but he would never have said it out loud. In any case, it was precisely because of his attitude that he was intrigued. As if he believed himself superior to anyone, even the professors themselves.

Laxus observed professor Brandish Myu's test the following week and made up his mind, reached out and patted the boy on the shoulder, who turned a little surprised. The blond handed him the paper.

“What’s that?” the green-haired guy asked. Laxus snorted.

“Next week's test. That bitch Myu does it the same every year, because she doesn't want to work. There are all the correct answers there” he replied. The boy looked up at him, and Laxus noticed how peculiar his eyes were. They weren't blue, they were just a deep blue, and the right one had a darker spot. Laxus would have called them beautiful.

"It's called cheating" the boy said dryly, without taking the paper. Laxus arched an eyebrow, and wondered what the fuck was wrong with that guy. Anyone else would have accepted it, at least not to have to study. Maybe he really was one of those nerds who hated cheaters and didn't let anyone copy.

"With that bitch you’ll never get top marks, no matter how hard you study" Laxus warned him then. Maybe that guy didn't know that teacher well yet.

"I'll get top marks and won't cheat" the confident boy said. At that point Laxus gave up. If he wanted to waste time and study, let him do it. He had grown tired of being kind. So, he put the paper on the table.

"As you like, you'll regret it" he muttered.

"No. I won't” the boy retorted and turned back to pay attention to the lesson.

Laxus was right, however, when the teacher gave the grades, Freed -Laxus had found out his name- took B+, while Laxus A. The blonde pointed this out to him, and Freed badly told him that it was that bitchy teacher who didn't understand a shit. The point is that he not only said it to him, but also to the teacher herself and the blonde couldn't help but chuckle seeing how pissed off that guy was.

2-When Laxus underestimates him

In the end, Freed was convinced by his schoolmates that he would join the basketball game. The boys were still choosing how to divide into the team, on the one hand there was Gerard as captain, on the other that idiot Laxus. That guy was nothing but a pain in Freed's ass. He could also admit that he was not very smart to refuse that sheet -to himself, obviously he would never have told a soul- but in any case, it was the professor's fault if his grade was only a B+. His test was perfect, it was the teacher who didn't understand a shit. But of course, that didn't interest Laxus, and every time they saw each other he brought up that story, just to make him nervous.

In any case, at the moment Freed was waiting to figure out which team he should go to.

"Choose Freed, he's good" Bickslow was saying to Laxus, who stared at him skeptically.

"That little guy?" he asked and Freed felt the irritation rise and his cheeks flush with anger. Like hell he was little, Freed would have shown it to him. "He's just a nerd, he's probably never played a team game, I choose Gray" Laxus decided. Freed became even more annoyed, and when Gerard chose him, he was more than happy. He didn't want to be on the team with that windbag anyway, and it would show him how wrong he was to underestimate him.

The game began and Freed wasted no time. His height was actually a limit compared to other guys, especially that blond one, but that certainly didn't stop Freed. He was fast and exuberant, he kept going from one side of the pitch to the other, more than once he had managed -with great satisfaction- to steal the ball from Laxus and take it to the other side to make a basket. He basically played as a playmaker, and when his team won, Freed smiled in satisfaction. It was presumptuous to think it was because of him, but it certainly had made a difference and blowing the balls under Laxus's eyes had been very, very satisfying. That's why Freed turned to Laxus at the end of the game.

"You got beaten up by a shorter nerd than you" he teased. Laxus tensed his jaw, obviously irritated and stung.

"Tsk, thanks to your mates, not yours" he growled nervously.

"Really? Because I counted the baskets, and I scored four more than you. Not to mention the countless times you've gotten the ball stolen from under your nose. If you play like this, I suggest you review your technique” he told him with an air of superiority and a smile that, he was sure, would have made the blonde even more nervous. Laxus could not argue and Freed walked away from him, knowing that he would throw him back for the rest of the year.

3-When Laxus has to endure him

Laxus couldn't believe it. He should have guessed it, he really should have. Who else could the math teacher pair him with? With Freed Justine of course, nerd par excellence with excellent marks in every single subject. And since Laxus absolutely had to catch up on his bad grades, he was forced to put up with that presumptuous little fellow who wasted no time telling him how ignorant he was. And as much as Laxus had tried to be patient until now, he had had enough now.

"You have to go on for a long time, or will you explain to me how the fuck to solve this problem?" he growled irritably. They were just wasting their time because of his chatter. Freed rolled his eyes, as if he were the one who must be exasperated there. It was Laxus who had been putting up with his complaints so far, what the fuck.

“Haven't you figured it out yet? I gave you a lot of things to think about” he snapped.

"Actually, I've only heard complaints" Laxus muttered.

"You weren't listening" Freed reiterated, and re-explained a few passages. Laxus forced himself to listen to him and finally figured out how to fix that damned problem. Satisfied he completed it. A half smile was printed on his face, he had taken less time than expected, now he could go. He started to get up but Freed tapped the pen on his arm.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked him.

"At home" was the obvious answer.

"Do you realize that we’re only at the beginning? There are a lot of topics you need to catch up on. Sit down and focus” Freed told him. Laxus stared at him in shock. He was joking, right? He had spent twenty minutes listening to him, and another ten minutes solving that exercise. He wouldn't stay there a second longer.

“That will be enough to get a good grade. I understand everything” he said quietly.

"No" Freed persisted in saying "We’re only at the beginning, what if the teacher asks you about trigonometry? Sit down now. If you don't get a good grade, it will weigh on my credits, and I'm not going to make my situation worse because of you” he snapped irritably.

"Fuck it" Laxus snapped, surrendering. He didn't even know what Freed was talking about, he had never been careful in math class. Partly because the subject was boring, and partly because the teacher made it even more boring. "Just stop being an annoying know-it-all" he snapped at Freed, who gave him a dirty look.

"It's not my fault you're ignorant" he retorted right away. Laxus put his hands through his hair, knowing full well he would go mad.

4-When Laxus has to protect him

Freed hated bullies. He especially hated Torafuzar and Tempesta, two moron who thought they could do what they wanted just because they were big and thick. Which was also Laxus, except that Laxus, in contrast to them, was much more handsome, kind and -even if he still made him nervous- Freed almost liked him. In any case, it was really not the time to think about the study partner. No, since those two had now only targeted him because he was gay. Okay, maybe Freed had instigated them a bit, telling them that they were probably impotent and that with violence they were trying to compensate for the fact that they had a tiny dick. He had been an asshole, okay, but Freed felt justified as those two started insulting him for his long, colored hair.

So now Freed found himself between two guys who are taller and much more muscular than him. That didn't stop him from still having the poisonous tongue. He wasn't stupid, he knew the two of them would hit him, but he was confident that they didn't expect to have to deal with someone who had trained in hand-to-hand combat. And that actually helped him, he managed to dodge a punch of Tempestar and thrust one into his stomach. The taller boy doubled over, and Freed quickly turned to the other idiot. What he hadn't foreseen was that he grabbed his wrist and twisted it so much that he let out a moan, and then knocked him to the ground.

Shit, he had underestimated them, and now he found himself dealing with two guys much bigger than him. Before Torafuzar could hit him again, Freed grabbed his leg and dropped him from behind with his ass to the ground. Then he tried to get up but Tempestar punched him in the face. And fuck if it hurted. He felt dizzy and for a moment considered the idea of running away. He really thought that despite his pride, because he wasn't stupid, but he didn't have the time to do it. He saw Tempestar hit his head against the wall, and only after that did, he realize that it was Laxus who hit him.

The blonde looked really pissed off for some reason, and he started hitting the two boys.

"What the fuck do you want?" one of the two moron snapped.

"Beat the living hell out of you, asshole" Laxus growled. Torafuzar grinned.

"And I guess you think you can do it even if there are two of us, Dreyar" he mocked.

"A kid half your height has beat you two a pulp. I don't think I'm going to have any problems" he challenged them. The two glanced at each other as Freed stood up beside him, assessing the situation. He didn't have to think about anything though, because the two boys, after spitting on the ground, walked away. Freed turned to Laxus.

"Kid half your height?" he repeated offended. Laxus stared at him puzzled.

"A ‘thank you’ is enough for me, you know" he told him.

"I don't have to fucking thank you, I'm not as short as you insist on saying, and in any case, I was doing it alone" he retorted. Laxus raised an eyebrow.

"It's unbelievable, not even after get hit you can lower your head" he said in amazement. Freed stared at him in annoyance. He knew that Laxus had helped him, but he was pretty sure he would be able to escape from those two idiots without any problems.

“Thanks” he forced himself to say between his teeth, Laxus widened his eyes but Freed didn't let him speak. “Even though I didn't ask for your help. And let's be clear, they were two against one, it wasn't fair anyway” he specified. Laxus smiled in amusement.

"So, admit you needed help."

"I didn’t say this".

"No, but it's true".

"It’s not…".

“Oh fuck, stop talking, he's bleeding your nose. And go to the infirmary before you mess around” Laxus told him.

"I don't need to…" Freed began to moan but Laxus grabbed him by the arm before he finished the sentence and began dragging him down the hall.

"You are extremely annoying, has anyone ever told you that?" he made rhetoric.

“Many in fact, but…”.

"I'm not surprised".

“Do you want to stop dragging me and interrupting me while I speak? I can walk alone. And anyway, I'm not annoying, it's other people who can't accept reality” Freed pointed out, trying to ignore how hot and strong Laxus's grip on his arm was. He tried to free himself but the wrist Torafuzar had turned before him hurt and he barely stifled a groan. Laxus immediately let go and turned to him, his eyes worried.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, gently taking his wrist in his hands and approaching. Freed instantly tensed, feeling the strong scent of Laxus flood his nostrils and his fingers gently feel his pulse. A shiver ran down his arm and he felt a blush reach his face. No no no, he couldn't blush in front of Laxus. It didn't matter how handsome and thoughtful the boy was, and how close he was to him, and how deep-down Freed liked that attention. Freed swallowed hard and jerked away before the situation became more embarrassing. He turned around so as not to show his stunned expression.

“Hell no, you can’t hurt me. I just twisted it” he said, hoping his voice didn't sound strange. Fuck. Fuck. Why was he getting so excited? Laxus put a hand on his shoulder and new shivers of excitement ran down Freed's shoulders. No, no. This wasn’t good. Freed pulled away quickly. "And stop it, why don't you mind your own business instead of busting my balls?" he blurted out.

Laxus snorted. “You know what, make do. I’m not surprised that you’ve been beaten with the tongue you have” he told him badly and turned away. Freed sighed in relief, finally starting to breathe normally again. As much as he hated admitting it, he liked Laxus's closeness more than he wanted to admit. He put his hands to his face and realized that his nose still hurt. He really had to go to the infirmary.

5-When Laxus wants to kiss him

"And as if that weren't enough, now I find myself wasting an entire afternoon that I could have used to study the new chapter of history, only to find myself here cleaning a fucking shit room with the most annoying person in school" Freed was saying. Laxus was now used to his background voice, it accompanied him most of the time, since they had been studying together for quite a few months. Freed actually did not speak constantly, on the contrary, there were moments in which Laxus also had fun with him. But when he was angry, he started with those monologues so long that they seemed to have no end.

And that was one of those moments, as they were in punishment together. It was Laxus' fault of course, and the blonde had no problem admitting it. He had dragged Freed into trouble for him because it seemed funny to make him do something forbidden. In particular, the two boys had gone to the roof and Laxus had tried to get Freed to smoke. After listening to a long monologue from his friend -he could now consider it as such- about how bad smoking was and how stupid smoking was, in the end -Laxus still didn't know how- he managed to convince Freed to take a drag. Obviously, the boy immediately coughed, reiterating how stupid it was and that he would never do it again, but Professor Clive had caught them and put them to clean up a classroom in the school.

At one point Freed kicked the garbage can causing it to fall to the ground and scatter papers. Laxus looked at him in shock.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

“I'm sick of being here. You should be here, alone. You dragged me into your follies!" he exclaimed "Now I have a demerit, do you know how much it will weigh?" he asked and Laxus rolled his eyes.

"You decided to follow me" the blond pointed out. "Anyway, if you do that, you only mess up the classroom even more" he commented.

“At least help me. You've been there for twenty minutes doing nothing” Freed snapped.

“Why, you instead? You've been complaining for the same time” Laxus retorted. Freed gave him a dirty look, but then he snorted and began to work. Laxus was lost watching him wondering when they got along more. Sure, they often argued, but they spent just as much time having fun together. It wasn't the first time Freed had followed him to do something stupid, it was fun to have a partner to bullshit with. Especially if that mate was Freed. They enjoyed bullshitting assholes, and now they had even begun to see each other after school.

The last time Laxus had taken his grandfather's moped, and had done a few laps with Freed. His friend had taught him to wheelies, or at least, he had explained the whole theory to him -suffering about the physics of the engine, part that Laxus no longer remembered anyway- and then it was the blond who tried. To make himself cool, he had tilted the scooter more than it should, and eventually they overturned. Luckily, they weren't hurt, but Freed had put all the blame on them. After arguing about that, they found themselves laughing and trying again, with more caution.

Yes, Laxus was having more fun than he had thought with that boy. And, strange and uncomfortable, he found himself all too often watching him. He liked how Freed brushed his hair off his face when he studied, or how he looked curiously at anything he didn't know, the way he nibbled his pen when he was agitated, or the way he smiled with satisfaction when he won a match against him. Indeed, Laxus was in too good a mood around him.

Even now, he was glad that Freed was with him, even though the boy kept muttering softly about how unfair that punishment was, and Laxus was sure, it wouldn't shut him up in any way. When Freed started, there was no way to stop him, by now he knew him. Who knows, maybe if he had kissed him, he would finally close that mouth. The idea didn't seem bad at all. At one point Freed turned to him.

"Are you going to help or not?" he blurted out. Laxus found himself blushing slightly, realizing he'd gazed at him for too long. He shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

“I was hoping you did everything” he said, avoiding looking at his lips. Freed threw a cast on him.

"Work" he ordered.

"And you stop messing up the classroom even more" Laxus retorted, taking the chalk off the ground and approaching the blackboard and, inevitably, to Freed, who always put him in awe with that intense gaze. Damn it in his eyes, they were so peculiar that he took more time to look at them each time. Better than looking at his lips, Laxus thought. Okay, he definitely had to stop thinking about weird things.

“In any case, you should serve most of the punishment, so you will clean most of the room. If you were wondering, from that corner over there to... " Laxus couldn't take it anymore, he pushed himself forward and placed his lips on Freed's, who initially jumped and widened his eyes. Laxus almost feared that he wouldn’t respond to the kiss, but after a few seconds the boy parted his lips and Laxus pushed himself even more towards him. He shook his hands on Freed's hips, pulling him against him and felt his friend's fingers tickle his neck. He was more beautiful than he had expected, a little uncertain on the part of both of them, sweet, and incredibly electrifying.

When they broke apart, Freed was silent for the first time, red-faced and wide-eyed. Laxus would have made fun of him if it had been another moment, but in that instant, he felt the same way. Embarrassed, surprised, excited. Freed had reciprocated. Without thinking twice, he pushed Freed towards the wall and kissed him again, this time more intensely, making their tongues collide and running his hands over his friend's body. Before long he felt too excited, with Freed's hands on his shoulders it was impossible not to be. God, he was freaking out completely. They broke away panting and flushed again and stared at each other for long seconds.

"W-what ...?" Freed stammered. Good heavens, he had managed to silence Freed Justine. Laxus grinned, although he felt high, he liked to see his friend in those states. Especially if it was his fault.

"Finally shut up" he commented. Freed's face became even more red if possible. In a short time, however, he narrowed his gaze again, although he was no longer credible as usual given the blush that colored his cheeks.

“You know, you just kissed me. I think I may be surprised, especially considering…” Laxus kissed him again, not sure whether to shut him up or because he wanted to. Damn, it didn't matter, those kisses were dizzying him and the more he had, the more he wanted. When they broke apart a third time, the blonde didn't stray too far from Freed. That closeness was all too tempting, and having Freed with his back to the wall thrilled him too much.

"We should clean the room" Freed murmured. Laxus raised an eyebrow.

"Are you seriously interested in that now?" he asked him. Freed seemed to think about it for a moment, then placed his hands on Laxus's chest and pushed him back badly, so much so that the blonde felt disappointed. He didn't have time to think about anything however that he found himself with his back against the desk.

"No, I don't care" was Freed's response, who immediately put a hand through the blond's hair and forced him to kiss him. Before long they both forgot the punishment.

1-When Laxus allies himself with him

Freed didn't think Laxus would trust him that much. But he did. Indeed, if Laxus had been caught stealing a moped not his own and voluntarily swiping it against Professor Brandish Myu's car, he didn't know what would happen to him. But he trusted him and Freed had no intention of betraying him. In any case there was little to worry about, Freed had thought of everything so that the blame would fall on those assholes of Torafuzar and Tempestar. Yes, the plan was all his. Well, almost everything. He had to admit that Laxus had contributed, but in any case, Freed was keen to point out that most of the credit went to him.

It all started when Laxus found himself with the scooter completely destroyed. Obviously, it had been those assholes of Torafuzar and Tempestar, who had done little to deny it. Indeed, they had boasted about it like never before. Laxus' first instinct had been to go beat them both, but Freed had stopped him in time, before he got suspended. And so, he had come up with a plan to take revenge. The plan included Professor Brandish Myu only because Freed hated her, and so he would kill two birds with one stone. They would just have to steal the keys of one of the two mopeds and swipe it against the professor's car, then leaving the evidence there. Perfect. Everything was perfect. Freed just had to keep the janitors busy and make sure no one came out, a pretty easy task for someone with his gab. In fact, when he felt the phone vibrate in his pocket and saw the message from Laxus he smiled.

“Laxus <3: Done! ;) "

Yes, Freed had put the little heart next to his name, but the blonde didn't have to know. He greeted the janitors, who in any case adored him for his kind and polite face -all facade, as Laxus said- and went up the stairs, returning to the first floor and opening the security door.

"Those assholes will have a nice surprise" the blond grinned.

"I hope you did a long scratch" Freed commented.

"Oh yes" Laxus smiled. Freed chuckled. He couldn't wait to see the scene.

And the scene came. Laxus and Freed were in the parking lot when the professor approached the car. Freed was quite curious what his car looked like, but he didn't lean over to avoid arousing suspicion, and Laxus just watched the two assholes walking towards Tempestar’s scooter. But when they were there, the professor's scream attracted everyone's attention.

"You stupid degenerate kids!" she exclaimed to the two assholes, who stared at her worried, but also pissed off. Because they knew they were framed. Freed and Laxus enjoyed the scene a few meters away, while all the other students stared too. "If you think you can pass the year, you’re very wrong, I will crush you, right?" the professor threatened them, while she looked at her own car that, in fact, Laxus was really committed to ruining.

The blond glanced at Freed, who was watching the scene strangely in silence. He put a hand on his shoulder and leaned slightly towards his ear, lowering his voice.

"Hey, are you feeling guilty?" he asked him worried. Freed turned to him and giggled.

"Not even a little" he replied without any doubt.

"Then why are you so silent?" Laxus asked puzzled. Freed watched the two boys.

“Oh nothing, I was thinking about how many assholes I have yet to take revenge. So far, I’ve reached seventeen people, but I only have revenge in mind on ten of them. Do you have someone to take revenge on?" he asked him. Laxus smiled in amusement.

"Hell, you're a bastard".

"Is it really a surprise?" Freed asked.

"No, actually no" Laxus said, taking Freed's hand in his and walking towards the bus stop. "So, who’s the first?".

[redxblueihateloveyou]

Hey!! 👋🏽😄 I know you said in your last rant about SK8 and Reki and Renga that you were one of those people that always looks up and learns from others, but after your last Langa edit, I just wanted to remind you how immensely talented you are. I might have not seen your first attempts at editing, but I know how it looks like when you're barely starting something, and I'm sure everyone is proud of the progress you've made and many people looks up to you as the level of skill they want to achieve. You're doing amazing! 💖💖💖

Hi, my love!!!!!! ASDFSDFGHG that’s soooo sweet, thank you so much for saying this, it really means the world to me <3 Oh, haha I’ve deleted most of my old videos so it wouldn’t hurt anyone’s eyes lmao T_T I’m still a bit nervous each time I’m uploading my vids to the day to be honest, even with so many subs rn, but at first I really didn’t have any supporters at all and my god I sucked at this, but I guess the love for my fav ships was stronger apparently haha. So I always get silly happy at each nice comment and feedback, so thank you seriously. 

I really love love love vidding, Idk why but when smth comes out the way I wanted it’s a super addictive feeling for some reason, but many times I just looked at the final result and just threw it in the trash and started over and my god how many times SonyVegas crushed and didn’t autosave the project. I’m like Suga now, I’m pressing the save button each 2 minutes, cause don’t want to lose anything xD Being someone’s inspiration is truly an honor to me, I’ve got some messages that hit me too hard. Still feels weird bc I’m like “but do you know that I can’t even use photoshop tho, how do u like me now then?” lol.

I’m always drawn to talented characters, bc they amaze me, esp the humble ones. Like those who hate Haru or Lanaga just buffle me honestly. I understand that they’re pretty and talented and everything, but they’re also the sweetest and loveliest human beings, so like...??? And I adore those who don’t whine and get what they want. I just can’t help it. I’m a strong believer in the fact that "you can do anything if you put your mind to it”. So far it worked in real life so suck it lol.

People are also saying like Langa doesn’t deserve to win this and Haru doesn’t deserve to be in Olympics, like Langa didn’t snowboard since he was 2 and Haru wasn’t swimming every day since he was born. I’m like.. and you need to check in the mirror if your face is a shade of green. BTW I’ve also been in a professional sports for quite a long time since I was a little kid, ballroom dancing and adored it back then, and I did not get jealous at ppl who were talented than me, I was watching the tapes actually with a popcorn. And oh god those large competition events when you sit there for days and give it all, but then you’re like 296 out of 1000. Why was I proud instead of being sad? Idk xD It was fun.

So thanks for liking the vid, cause I even regretted uploading it a bit yesterday. Sadly everyone already knows that we lost this fandom to the middle schoolers being extra, so they do not care for anything each episode except for this ship, so that’s what I got for posting a just Langa vid:

And etc. and that just made me sad, cause I do not like such fandoms, like it’s not even related to the video, that I’ve been making... with love.  Also thanks for the "sama” title, I’m flattered, but editor only wants to vid matchablossom for now, so like there’s no need for any warnings. I’ve been in such horrendoes fandoms, that I’m immune to this. I also in fact didn’t know some keep ruining Langa’s page and saying that he steals Reki’s screen time... cause he’s aparently the only main character...? ...lmao? I didn’t even know Langa can be hated tbh. I wasn’t really ready for all the drama that followed me making a vid about him.

I’ve already deleted some comments, cause I’m like what this even has to do with the vid about Langa? No, I am not obliged to make a vid about Reki, too. What if I post a matchablossom vid, everyone will only start commenting “do renga”, cause fuck your efforts? I’m like... I hate such fanbases, seriously. I do not even know where this is going, but their fans are already pissing me off. I’m still trying hard for this to not affect my point of view about the ship, cause it’d be kinda unfair to them, but its getting harder each week istg.

And I maybe can’t take requests, but I love when some try to get me addicted on their ship with passion and great arguments. It happened to me with some nice ppl. But def not with agression and stupidity haha.

Cause apparently its one of the fandoms where you can’t NOT care for the main ship, even if you accept it for the only possible Langa ship (cause he doesn’t give a shit for anyone else, so like what’s the point), but it doesn’t do anything for you. I’m like... thanks for threatening. This will make me on board ASAP. Like it’s not the epitomy of love to me... I’m sorry? LMAO 

Some anon even sent me a “you’re dense” (literally thats it) ask after that Reki ask. I was tempted to write smth like “oh I’m sorry, this is the most epic love story of my life and his character is the most complex in the world and he’s the best friend and the most inspiring human being that ever hit my screen. can I become undense now? xD”. But you know I do not know if they’d realise the sarcasm and my pride sadly never allowed me to sell my life values for a bunch of 12 years olds to love me lol

My sister always laughs and jokingly says “but you’d probably get much more subs if you made a vid about this or that, but at what price that would be lmao”. Cause yeah, I never could make myself vid smth I do not like, cause I love vidding and do not want it to be associated with things I do not like, plus it’ll most likely turn out ugly, if I do not care. My mom says that she can feel love I put in my shipping vids that’s why she loves them. I really don’t think she’s wrong. But that also kinda makes me an idiot technically, cause I’m not into many of the popular ships, and some popular animes I just find really basic. 

Also I’m like 100% sure it ain’t happening, but even if they miraculously suck each other’s dicks while sitting on a skate board, I can still have the rights not to care at the end. Like did I sign some form where I’m obliged to love each and everyone canon gay ship even if it’s not what I like? Like gay is not the type of love in relationships. You can only care about his ass like Lan Zhan for example or you can only care about your ass. Like that’s different types of relationships, and whatever you like you like. So get all the way of people’s backs, please.

Also do ppl know that you do not need to be blind to the bad sides of the characters in your ships? Or you just gonna be like “I suddenly can’t see” for forever.

So really thanks for such wonderful message and liking the video and for the boosts when I need them and not being an ass to me if I’m not being obsessed with smth, when you like it. (like I think we have different ship in bnha, right? but we’re still doing great tho, thanks for being an angel <3)

I still didn’t expect this becoming a Voltron 2.0. situation tho. We in our twenties see everything differently, I guess. I do get extra about “their love is everywhere”, but I do not get extra by anonymously attacking ppl, threatening creators and yelling “queeerbating psychotic blind assholes if these two aint fucking by the end of the season I’m shaving my head and jumping out of the window and shoot the director. you do not ship it HARD? YOU DUMB FUCK. THAT’S THE BEST LOVE STORY IN THE WORLD”. Like damn, take your blinders off and see the world, kid. Firstly, it’s definitely not, secondly, ppl see love differently in general and at each age too.

Ah, also you must kill Adam, cause he’s a pedo apparently. Like he ain’t even a threat to your ship, unless you’re blind, but they’re still at it, like they do not know that this kind of age difference is literally nothing for an anime? And that there are canon ships with a huger age difference left and right, too. It’s like its their first time approaching an anime or smth. Like in anime world character can literally kill 1000 ppl with his bare hands and bathe in their blood and we can still stan them, depends on their story, ok? Also Langa couldn’t care less for his advances, so like separate Adam from your ship pls. Like, fuck off, if someone is interested in his character. Yeah, he’s a weirdo for reasons, but anime kind of weird do not apply to real life. Stop acting like you’re some purist, when later you’re gonna ship smth else and it suddenly will not apply. Also rules do not apply to animes, everyone knows they do not apply. These are not western cartoons, my god. And 24 years old flirting with 16 year old is defiinitely not the weirdest shit anyone has ever seen in the anime. Chinese BL has characters who were 14 and 30 when they met and happily married. Also FICTION is not life. Literally no one cares. If you’re scared for your saint eyes, do not watch animes, you’re gonna have a heart-attack from what you can see there. Also we’ve seen gayer bromances in animes, who are just bromances, so pls do not shoot anyone if it’s not canon.

So basically I was kinda pissed yersterday, cause fuck them for ruining the tag, but after chatting with my hommies and your ask, I’m okay again, I just have to avoid this fandom and stick to a tight community xD. I just got used to my nice fandoms and forgot for a bit about the precautions you need to take if you’re in one of those. You know. Who make a circus out of lgbt, instead of supporting it, and make other ppl hate being in fandoms.

P.S. sorry for this partially unrelated rant, your messages really always make my heart bloom, so thanks for supporting me, and I know you’re proud of my progress, too <3 and this makes me happy. LY

[romansleftshoulderpad]

Take A Chance On Me

Ship: Royality

Word Count: 3,127

Warnings: Mentions of being horny, breakups

--

If you change your mind, I’m the first in line. Honey, I’m still free. Take a chance on me.

Patton had never been one for sunbathing, but he was rather inclined towards any activity that involved Roman. The warmth was like a blanket, keeping him cozy and safe (though Logan would warn quite the opposite, going on a lecture about the dangers of overexposure to ultraviolet rays). Patton was with Roman, that was safe enough for him.

“He just wasn’t my style, I guess,” Roman said, continuing on his rant. Patton was trying to listen, but the sun was putting him to sleep. He wondered if Roman would have to wake him with a kiss.

“What is your style?” Patton teased. “A knight in shining armor?”

“Hey, knights have to be strong under that armor. If a buff strong man wants to suplex me then he can go for it.”

“What if he has a frog face?”

Roman thought for a moment. “I can live with that. If he keeps his helmet on.”

Patton laughed, which made Roman laugh, which only made Patton laugh even harder. He moved his hand, letting it brush up against Roman’s. He wanted to grab his hand. He wanted to take his face and kiss him senselessly.

But the timing wasn’t right.

“Carlos sucks.”

Roman shrugged. “He’s fine. I don’t regret dating him or anything. I think it could’ve worked out if things were different.”

“Things?”

“If we were a year younger. If I didn’t know what I know now.”

“And what do you know now?”

Roman moved his hands to his chest- away from Patton- and looked to the sky. He didn’t answer, but Patton could hear him humming under his breath. It was a song he recognized from Into the Woods but he couldn’t think of a title. The two went back to cloud gazing and laid in silence. He closed his eyes, tucked under the warm blanket of sunlight, and tried to fall asleep.

If you need me, let me know, gonna be around

Roman and Patton had been friends for longer than either of them could remember. But what Patton does remember is years of movie marathons and blanket forts with a projector turning the ceiling into the galaxy. He remembers losing a tooth when they were ten and Roman pulling one of his own out in solidarity. He remembers that wasn’t a pretty picture.

He remembers being thirteen. He remembers clearing “Am I Gay quiz�� from his search history time and time again. He remembers watching his friends start dating. He remembers thinking of Roman.

Roman was someone Patton always considered fortunate. Roman never had to come out, no one ever expected him to be one thing or another. Patton remembered when they were twelve and Roman told him about how he learned how to kiss in a game of spin the bottle.

Patton remembers feeling jealous. Not of Roman, but of those who had the honor of kissing someone so carefree.

The honor of kissing Roman so carefree.

He remembers being thirteen and laying by Roman’s side as Dumbo played on screen. He wasn’t watching, there wasn’t any point.

“Roman,” he whispered, “when did you know?”

Roman glanced at him in confusion. There wasn’t much light, but his braces shined from the television screen. “How did I know-“ Patton turned away. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no, hey,” Roman whispered. He grabbed the remote and hit mute, giving them a moment of privacy. “You don’t, really. You just find someone attractive- and sometimes you don’t even know what that means- and you just... figure it out.”

“That sounds so simple but-“

“It’s not,” Roman sighed. “It’s not simple. But you’ll figure it out, okay?” Patton didn’t look convinced. “You have a whole lifetime to figure yourself out.”

Patton grabbed the remote, turning the volume back on and making it just louder than comfortable. “Thanks, Roman.”

If you’ve got no place to go, if you’re feeling down

He can still remember being angry, boiling with rage just after homecoming. He found Roman crying in the school parking lot. There was still an hour left of the dance.

“Roman?” he whispered.

“P- Patton, I- What are you doing here?”

“Roman, I’m here. What happened?”

Roman wiped at his eyes, stepping back into the shadows to try to hide. Nevertheless Patton knew that his cheeks were stained with tears and his eyes were red with pain. “He broke up with me,” he whispered. “At homecoming, of all things!”

“He’s an asshole and he doesn’t deserve you,” Patton said. “Can I hug you?”

Roman gave a weak nod and let himself fall into Patton’s arms. “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have to see me like that.”

“Roman, please, don’t apologize for feeling.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, listen to me,” Patton said. “My date and I were going to go get ice cream. You should come, I think it’ll help.”

“I’m not going to third wheel on your date.”

“Oh, no, we’re just here as friends.”

“Still-“

“You need friends right now.”

“Okay,” Roman sighed. “Okay.”

Patton smiled and took his hand, walking him through the parking lot towards the only lit car around. “Roman, I want you to meet Logan.”

If you’re all alone, when the pretty birds have flown Honey, I’m still free Take a chance on me

It was March when Roman and Carlos broke up. It was mid-April now. The four of them were tucked up in Patton’s living room, watching the rain outside. Virgil, Patton’s new roommate, was half asleep with his head on Logan’s shoulder.

“Go fish,” he said, barely coherent.

“How are you this tired at three in the afternoon?” Roman teased, grabbing another card.

“Movin’s hard,” he yawned. “Logan, got any aces?”

“The only ace I have is myself,” Logan said. “Go fish.”

Patton grinned. “Logan made a dad joke!”

“Fuck.”

“Didn’t you move in a week ago?”

“Roman, be nice,” Patton said with a frown. “You can’t move in on day one.”

Virgil flashed him a smile and took a card. They continued playing for another hour or so before Virgil actually had fallen asleep. Roman and Logan had carried him off to his bed while Patton loaded up a movie. The storm was coming in harder and no one wanted to leave.

Gonna do my very best and it ain’t no lie

Patton smiled, quick to take Virgil’s place against Logan’s shoulder. He gave a fond sigh, accepting his fate. After knowing him for years, one simply grew accustomed to Patton’s displays of affection. (And, while Logan would never admit it, Patton’s friendship was the perfect way to stave off touch starvation.)

As the movie started, Patton could see the sad glances from Roman. He reached out and grabbed his hand, watching Roman’s eyes light up like the same old galaxy projector they’ve used for years.

If you put me to the test, if you let me try. Take a chance on me. Take a chance on me.

He had Roman exactly where he wanted him.

We can go dancing, we can go walking, as long as we’re together.

It was the first clear day in a week. Roman was stealing Patton from Virgil for all of it. They were hand in hand walking through the park on the way to Roman’s house. It was a perfect day.

Listen to some music, maybe just talking, get to know you better

When Patton and Roman were little they could lay in the same bed and feel all the space of the world between them. They were so small and the mattress was only a continent. But they’re bigger now, adults now, and the two of them on the same float drifting in the middle of Roman’s pool didn’t offer the same space. The sun was still beating down on them, but it felt different now. Their skin was still damp and Roman kept his arm around Patton’s waist to stay afloat. Patton could feel his breath on his skin.

It was hot. And Patton was dying.

He pressed his hand against the side of Roman’s face and moved even closer, smirking as he did so. He waited a moment for Roman to respond, loving the way he turned bright red. Patton held his breath and rolled off of the float, taking Roman down with him. When the resurfaced Roman’s hair was stuck to his face and he was coughing up water.

“You FIEND!” he yelled, splashing Patton with water. “Ugh! It’s in my nose! Fuck, it burns!”

Patton only continued laughing, watching Roman’s every movement. Behind him, things were blurry. They didn’t need to be focused on because Roman was there and he was the most important person alive.

Maybe he just needed to put his glasses on.

He swam over to Roman and grabbed his hands, pressing their foreheads together. “However can I make it up to you?” he teased.

“I-”

“Yes?”

Roman moved away, taking his hands back to himself. “I think we should, uh, dry off. I’m going to take a shower. If you want to too, you can- wait shit-” Patton almost felt bad for how flustered he was. Almost. “I just mean like after I’m done and-” He stepped out of the water, and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist.

“I know what you mean, Roman,” Patton said. “Go dechlorinate yourself.”

“Right,” Roman gave an awkward wave, hanging his swim trunks up on the towel rack and heading inside.

‘Cause you know I’ve got so much that I want to do When I dream I’m alone with you It’s magic

It was later that month when they saw each other again. It was different from their typical meetings, Roman had called him late at night. “Hey,” he whispered. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t,” Patton lied. He glanced at the clock. Just past one in the morning. He held back a yawn.

“I- It’s stupid, nevermind. I shouldn’t be bothering you right now.”

“Roman. You’re never a bother to me.”

There was a moment of silence, and Patton wondered in Roman had fallen asleep. All he could hear was breathing.

“Roman?”

“Do you, um, want to watch a movie? Like we used to?”

“We both know you’re not calling me at one in the morning just to watch a movie,” he said.

“Oh.”

“I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

You want me to leave it there, afraid of a love affair

He walked into Roman’s bedroom exactly twenty-seven minutes later. He slipped his shoes off and let himself fall into Roman’s bed. “Welcome back to childhood.”

Roman brushed his hand against Patton’s. “Yeah. Just like childhood.”

Patton wanted to grab his hand. He wanted to take his face and kiss him senselessly.

“So, why did you call me?” He decided to let that choice be Roman’s. “You must’ve wanted to talk about something.”

“I was thinking,” he admitted. “About Carlos.”

Patton felt something settle in his stomach. Something bad.

“And I don’t like thinking about him.”

“Are you upset about the breakup?”

“No,” Roman said. His fingers brushed against Patton’s again. “You know me. I don’t like to regret the past.”

“Do you regret the breakup?”

“No, Patton, stop.” He sighed. “I regret being with him. And I don’t like that.”

“Oh.”

“He was a rebound, I guess. A distraction. He loved me and I loved that. I loved the attention.”

“Sounds like a few old memories of mine.”

“I was too busy waiting for someone to love me back. And now, I’ve been waiting for so long that I don’t know if he’ll ever-”

“Roman.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

But I think you know

Roman moved so slowly and carefully. Patton held his cheeks in his hands and pulled him forward, kissing him like there was nothing else in the world.

That I can’t let go

“There isn’t a world where I don’t love you.”

“Oh,” Roman tiredly murmured. “Does that mean we can kiss again?”

Patton pressed a tender kiss to his cheek. “You need to sleep.”

“No, I don’t.” Roman yawned. “I need you.”

“I’m here for you, Roman.” Another kiss. “Now go to sleep.” And the world went quiet. And the world went black.

Oh you can take your time baby, I'm in no hurry, know I'm gonna get you You don't wanna hurt me, baby don't worry, I ain't gonna let you

They decided to wait a few days before telling everyone. Roman, however, wasted no time stealing every bit of Patton’s affection. “I’m starved,” he’d said. “I’ll die without your kiss, my love.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Patton said, pressing a kiss to Roman’s cheek as he made pancakes. Roman was holding onto his waist, resting his head on his lover’s shoulder. “I love you, Princey.”

Roman hummed. “Love you too, Pattoncake.”

“Awww. Roman that’s adorable.”

“Only because you are.”

Patton squealed, turning around to hide his face in Roman’s chest. He was a blushing mess; he felt like Roman when they were merely flirting.

“Your pancakes are burning, darling.”

“Fuck the pancakes, my face is burning.”

Roman laughed and flipped each of the pancakes quickly before lifting Patton’s chin and kissing him softly. “You’re too easy.”

“Could’ve said the same about you in that pool float.”

Roman kissed him again. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“That’s how I wanna go,” Patton said. “Now go, sit, I need to make sure these don’t burn.”

Let me tell you now

They decided to tell everyone at the next game night, though it never really came to that. Logan had walked in on them making out in the kitchen, muttering “Fucking finally” before grabbing a soda from the fridge and walking out.

Patton blushed and hid his face in Roman’s chest as they both failed to hide their laughter. “I suppose we should get back to cards.”

Roman hummed, snaking his arms around Patton’s sides and pulling him close. He pressed a kiss to Patton’s lips and let it melt into more as sugar dissolved at his touch. “I have much more fun things in mind than cards.”

“Baaabe.”

“Yes?” Roman asked, kissing him again.

“If you two don’t get your asses over here I will stab you both,” Logan called.

Virgil then continued, shouting, “STOP BEING FUCKING HORNY!”

Roman laughed. “Let’s get back to cards.”

My love is strong enough

They settled into a nice routine. They spent more time together, yes, but also readjusted to spending time apart. Being a couple felt natural, it was hard to imagine living any other way.

Patton was laying in bed, squinting at his phone screen without his glasses. He smiled, half asleep but not willing to end his conversation so quickly. Roman was gushing about some book series or maybe it was a YouTube video, Patton really couldn’t tell. But it didn’t matter, seeing the stream of texts was comforting enough.

Pattoncake: Wait, hold on

Princey: ???

Pattoncake: I love you <3

Pattoncake: Okay, keep going

He smiled at his phone. He knew there had been times in life when he had been hurt. Upset. Injured. But Roman made it feel like nothing bad existed. Roman made everything feel like love.

To last when things get rough It’s magic

“Fuck,” Roman groaned.

“What’s wrong?” Patton asked, leaning against his shoulder.

“Tomorrow got cancelled due to weather.”

“That’s Florida for you.”

He groaned in response. “Florida can suck my dick.”

“But then I’d be out of a job.” 

Roman’s face went bright red as Patton laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Patton said, “We can still be gay in the rain.”

“Not with the other gays though.”

“We can be gay together. We can hang out with our friend gays.”

“I guess.”

“There’s other events,” Patton reminded. “Just let the weather pass. I’ll make tomorrow special.”

You say that I waste my time, but I can’t get you off my mind

Roman was out getting groceries while Virgil and Logan were sneaking into his apartment with every rainbow thing they could find. The apartment was covered wall to wall in flags and lights and for some reason a framed picture of the kiss scene from Love, Simon that had not been there before.

“Patton, I don’t intend to sound rude, but,” Logan looked up and down at Patton’s rainbow suit, “is this, perhaps, a bit superfluous?”

Patton adjusted Logan’s lapel pin, a heart in the colors and arrangement of the demisexual pride flag. “I’m dating Roman, if it’s not extra it’s not us.”

Logan rolled his eyes but gave a fond smile. “I will never understand how I am friends with either of you.”

“Yeah, yeah, love you too. Now I need you and Virgil to show how much you love me by leaving, Roman will be back any minute now.”

No, I can’t let go

Roman’s hair was sticking to his face when he came inside. He dropped the grocery bags by the door when he saw everything around him.

‘Cause I love you so

“Patton, what the fuck is this?”

“Surprise,” Patton said. “Or should I say ‘surpride!’”

Roman smiled, picking up the grocery bags and putting them properly on the counter. “You look ridiculous.”

“Do you not like it?”

“Oh, Patton.” Roman pulled him in close, holding his cheeks in his hands. “I adore it.”

Patton leaned into the touch, pressing their lips together. “I adore you.”

“Not as much as I adore you.”

“Hmm, nah,” Patton hummed. “I think I love you the most.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe,” he said with a smirk. “OH! I have to show you something!” He grabbed Roman’s hand and they ran into the living room. Patton pressed play on his phone and grabbed Roman’s hands.

“You can’t slow dance to Troye Sivan.”

“Maybe not,” he said. “But I want to. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

If you change your mind, I'm the first in line Honey, I'm still free, take a chance on me

Patton pressed his head against Roman’s chest.

If you need me, let me know, gonna be around If you've got no place to go when you're feeling down

“We should stay like this forever.”

“What? Dancing?” Roman asked. “People have died from that.”

“No, not dancing,” Patton said. “I mean...”

If you're all alone when the pretty birds have flown Honey, I'm still free, take a chance on me

“Together. Forever.”

Gonna do my very best and it ain't no lie If you put me to the test, if you let me try

“I agree completely, my love.”

Honey, I'm still free, take a chance on me

[a-very-fond-farewell]

The forbidden crack! Untamed prompts: 22/?

Drama AU [this is just an idea tho, no plot basically]: “Did you find a bitch in me?”

[JC-focus crackships galore baby! title is from a Marina Diamandis’s song (“Hermit the Frog) but that’s probably not important for the non-plot so... yeah]

*

“So... wait a minute.”

“Hit me.”

“I’m still confused.”

“About?”

“Wen Qing... why should I know about your ex’s exes?”

“Because he’s a bisexual menace and I don’t want him to ruin this for me.”

“Jiang Cheng is not going to sleep with me.”

“What do you know tho? He’s that powerful.”

“Babe, I’m a lesbian.”

“And he has dated everyone in our circle of friends and their significant others.”

“Big lesbian energy, you’re absolutely right.”

“Thank you. I taught him well.”

*

or the only au where there’s only drama and no plot and JC went from experimenting to actively turning people gay or straight just because.

[attn: in this au Jin GuangShan is not, I repeat, not a bitch and did not, in fact, have other kids aside from Jin ZiXuan bc I say so. don’t make me complicate this non-existent plot more, please]

[under the cut for more!]

ok. got it. JC knows he’s no saint. hell, he doesn’t even qualify as a decent human being, alright. he’s that socially abominable. but things have escalated to a point where he doesn’t even know what to do. maybe become a hermit, lock his dick and call it a day. yeah, that should do the trick. because he really doesn’t know when it all started... no. that’s a lie. total bullshit. it was Nie HuaiSang.

so, SO, he may have been 16. sweet bush child with no future nor name. a great big sister, a stupid big bro, an overachieving mother, a distant father, the usual. save for fucking Nie HuaiSang and his stash of porn. and JC was straight. and he just wanted to check if the link his high school friend sent him was a jumpscare or not. he closed the tab right after the first moan echoed in his room late at night, he forgot to put the jack in and his earphones were possibly all the way back in his backpack on the kitchen table. fuck his life. and also fuck HuaiSang for being into weirdly sensual artsy porn on top of that. fuck his life. fuck the replay button too.

coincidentally, HuaiSang was his first kiss, first head, first everything only one year later and JC still talks to the jerk to an extent, but not because he wants to, okay? they were experimenting, but JC was still straight. he wanted to do good on his first actual relationship with a woman, whatever that meant for him at the time. HuaiSang was okay with that, the lying bastard. JC may or may not have grown fond of him by the time their graduation came, but they never got around to talk about it because they were stupid and young.

also, HuaiSang’s brother had caught them once and JC had known there and then why his non-boyfriend had decided to cut things loose afterwards. that jock was scary as fuck.

.

then. THEN. university came and Wen Qing was the one reminding JC he was still very much as straight and unbendable as he could get. it took him three years to not yell at her in frustration and ask her out: the sexual tension between them fueled by rivalry over good grades and the scholarship program they both wanted to have access to for their masters.

she had been the one asking him out. JC was lying about having the balls to do it, obviously. the fact that she also discovered to be a lesbian while being with him could have burned less, all things considered, but JC knew he had made love to her and that was enough for him. letting her go had been the right thing to do and they still talk everyday and she loves his nephew and everything is fine.

JC is FINE.

it only took him the two remaining years of his masters to get over her, but. FINE.

.

he’s not gonna talk about her brother. it happened only once. okay maybe once that particular night, at a bar and they were drunk and Wen Ning was nothing like his sister and the boy always had a slight crush on him and he was the one suggesting it, okay?

Wen Ning was kind and gentle and kissed way better than his sister and maybe after two years JC could get over it and move on and they could still be a family after all and that last stall in the staff toilet had been where JC’s bottom cherry was popped and oh gods that felt so good...

“actually, Jiang Cheng, you’re lovely. but I think I’m actually really straight so... I’m sorry. I hope we can still be friends?”

yeah. JC’s not gonna talk about fucking Wen Ning.

.

maybe the fact that his brother Wei Ying got married so soon was the reason why. it has to be.

JC hated, HATED Lan Zhan. he hated how much in love they were. how softly they moved around each other. how much he wanted some of that as well.

and since he was THAT petty he had to flirt with Lan Zhan’s brother (Lan Huan) because of it. the man was terrifyingly good looking and a gentleman. so much he didn’t want to give in to JC’s requests... because he already had a boyfriend.

JC knew nothing about said boyfriend aside from the fact that he was apparently a snake, whatever Wei Ying meant by that.

Lan Huan looked very intrigued, but he’s also very loyal and JC admired him for that. he didn’t want to have that conversation tho, the one where Lan Huan politely asked him to stop being so charming in his periphery, so JC decided to hide for a month or two and maybe extended that period of time and never show his face again while he’s at it.

Lan Zhan would have also had his head on a fucking plate if he dared touching his precious older brother so, there’s that as well.

.

so he dated a bunch of people after swiping them on apps left and right, got the hitch out of his system and felt miserable about it.

Nie HuaiSang came back into his life like, the day before JC started working for a new company and asked him out for a drink. HuaiSang was crushing for a man too young for HuaiSang’s comfort because he usually liked older men and this boy was fresh out of his bachelor and JC’s friend was well in his late twenties and didn’t have a job yet and...

JC shut him up with a kiss and they felt slightly less lonely afterwards, until they actually talked about their issues and decided to stop being messy and grow out of their bad habits.

JC still fells sick at the idea of being someone else’s “bad habit” though.

.

Wen Chao was a mistake.

Wen Chao’s girlfriend was a mistake.

Wen Chao’s brother was a mistake.

Their bloody uncle was a mistake.

Their father was an even more spectacular mistake.

JC has yet to find out how he survived the year of his thirtieth birthday, honestly. that shit had been wild as fuck.

.

YanLi and her husband offered JC to look after Jin Ling more often in order to make him feel some sense of safety, he knew that much. at the time, JC hated the fact that ZiXuan worried over him and that his own sister didn’t know how to help him either.

people at work had started to treat him differently as well, now that they knew how messy he was. he started getting treated for depression soon after being promoted to supervisor, his workaholic tendencies saving him from himself after years of sleeping around and drinking too much for his own good.

A-Su was YanLi’s friend from university and was kind enough to ask him out one day. she stayed with him for a year before apologizing to him, saying she wanted something more: a family, a future, something JC could have not given her anytime soon.

.

his brother and Lan Zhan adopted a boy and JC became an uncle for the second time. A-Yuan was difficult to look after, having survived stressful living conditions in his early childhood, so Wei Ying appreciated the extra hand when JC offered it to him and his husband.

looking after children forced him to be not so angry all the time and now Jin Ling had a cousin he could play with and was very glad his Jiujiu was feeling better.

.

when Lan Huan came back into his life, JC had forgotten about even attempting to win him over in his early twenties. it felt life a lifetime had passed.

they started as friends this time around, but JC felt nothing for him and he was okay with that. they were good uncles to A-Yuan and that was enough.

.

what really caught JC off guard was when Meng Yao stumbled upon him one day in midwinter, crashing on JC and sending his briefcase up in the air. the older man was apologetic and kind and gods forbid JC still needed some of that in his life. even if it was the other who had crashed into him, JC offered to buy him coffee since Meng Yao’s cup was now sadly rolling out frame on the snowy path.

to his utter astonishment, Meng Yao accepted.

JC took his time with him, willing to slow down and really get to know this new man who seemed so welcoming and easily approachable... yet so impossibly far and unreachable.

Meng Yao confessed cheating on his previous partner with his best friend five years prior and how he felt undeserving of another chance with someone as kind as JC. he revealed how therapy helped him work on his tendency of manipulating others and that this was the only reason why he wanted to be honest with JC and tell him the truth. so that the younger man could make up his mind if Meng Yao could be granted a chance with him.

this heartfelt confession startled JC in the beginning, especially bc Meng Yao seemed adamant about not sleeping with him for the foreseeable future, unless they talked it out some more.

on JC’s thirty-fourth birthday, one year after meeting Meng Yao, JC asks him to marry him during a pleasant dinner the older man has planned for him.

to his horror and absolute joy, A-Yao accepts.

JC didn’t mind not having been intimate with him until then, nor he would have minded if A-Yao never happened to change his mind on the matter. JC felt safe with him, even when he saw him reminiscing the past with grief painting his features behind his fake smile. JC knew he could give him happiness and so he asked him to meet the Jiangs for the first time to announce the good news.

all but Wei Ying and his husband have arrived the even JC brought A-Yao home, their car stuck in traffic. they start eating without them, with the couple’s permission. YanLi and ZiXuan didn’t bring A-Ling this time around, not willing to leave too soon and waste a chance to really get to know the new member of their family. JC’s father seemed pleased to meet with A-Yao, exchanging pleasantries and conversing about common interests...but JC’s mother is weirdly cold and distant that night.

once dinner came to a end, finally Wei Ying arrived, apologizing profusely for making the lot of them eat without them. however, nor he or his husband could take their eyes off of A-Yao...and neither could JC’s fiancé.

“if you still have some dignity to spare, I suggest you leave this very moment,” said Lan Zhan, the most he has ever spoken in one breath in front of JC. to which, to JC’s astonishment, A-Yao answered by giving JC one last look and the saddest smile he had ever worn...before leaving the house and never look back.

.

confused, heartbroken, humiliated...JC didn’t know what to feel when Lan Zhan explained to the lot of them what Meng Yao had done to Lan Huan after eight years together. cheating on the kindest man alive with an old acquaintance of his that to that day remained unnamed bc Meng Yao refused to reveal their identity.

JC’s mother didn’t have to tell her son that she had known all along something was off about A-Yao: JC could feel it in the way she was looking at him, sitting next to him on the couch. she had a sixth sense for venomous people.

the following year, JC is pretty sure it passed in a blur. he remembers working less hard than what he was expected to do, been consequently and rightfully demoted in his company. others gossiped about him being so proud for nothing in the end, which aggravated his mood.

to his surprise, his mother was the one suggesting him to take a break somewhere nice. to clear his head for a month or two before deciding what to do with his life. Wei Ying booked him a trip to Taiwan the following day and in less than a week JC is on a plane to take a long vacation there.

.

one night, roughly a week after his arrival at the hotel, JC was staring blankly at the skyline in deep thought. he had done the tourist-y shit, eaten all the foods in the best restaurants, brought presents for his family. and now he was bored out of his mind. the same, old questions swirling in his mind: did A-Yao lie when he said he loved him? did he lie just so he could have a fresh start and forget about the past? did he leave bc he felt guilty for his past with Lan Huan? was he serious when he had accepted JC’s proposal?

that’s when Mo XuanYu came barging into his life like a hurricane.

the younger man, seven years his junior, spotted him from an adjacent balcony and proceeded to talk to him as if...trying to de-escalate a suicide attempt from his part.

“sir, please. I’m sure there’s more to life than this. I don’t know what happened to make you feel this way but...everything will be fine in the end. I promise you. I was there. It’s okay. please don’t jump over the balcony.”

JC had no intention of jumping, just to be clear, but something in his eyes must have caught the kid’s attention and...was that a steward uniform he was wearing? did he work for the hotel? JC was none the wiser but that was the first time someone had reassured him so wholeheartedly without even knowing him and it felt...weird.

he started tearing up and the younger man panicked, promising to keep him company all night if necessary, reaching out with a hand to touch JC and reassure him from the other side. JC grasped it gingerly in his own and let himself be coaxed back to the realm of the living by such gentle soul.

JC hated himself for sleeping with him not even a week after their encounter.

but it just felt so good to let himself be guided by hand to the most hidden and wonderful places. away from the tourist crowd, eating delicious food with someone smiling prettily at him. yet he hated himself more for thinking about someone else in bed with him, at least in the beginning.

Mo XuanYu seemed to know anyway, and even encouraged him to just do whatever he felt like with him. casual hookups didn’t have to be meaningful, the younger man had said, and it wasn’t even the first time someone used him as a rebound either. still, something ugly stirred in JC at that.

so he decided to stop thinking about himself for once and shoved every bad memory away. all to pour his affection into someone else and cater to his lover for the following month and a half. borrowed time of a stolen season, during which JC doted on the younger man and learned to listen.

some of the stories Mo XuanYu told him felt slightly familiar, almost as if they had a friend in common and didn’t know who it might have been. after his shift, the younger man would ask to eat with JC and share his frustrations, repaying him in kindness with sweet kisses and even sweeter smiles that felt a little bit too brittle in the morning, when he was bound to leave.

by the end of JC’s trip it was clear to him that he had grown fond of the other man, too much for his own good. but during a vacation, away from home, surrounded by new and exciting things...anyone would have worn a mask to forget their normal life, that reality they would have eventually been forced to come back to.

by the end of his vacation, JC had figured out who their common friend was and remembered how distant Nie HuaiSang had felt falling in love with Mo XuanYu. how sad the younger man’s emotional unavailability has made him feel.

and when they parted ways at the airport, JC kissed him goodbye and never saw him again. the memory of Mo XuanYu’s brittle smile engraved forever in the back of his mind.

.

back to work. back to his bad bitch persona. it felt good to focus on his job and nothing else for a year or two, keeping others at distance while bossing them from his office as he regained his boss’s trust. being promoted a second time gave him the confidence he needed to move on with his life and by his thirty-seventh birthday he could finally see a future for himself.

therapy was helping a great deal and even his siblings seemed to notice his progress, praising him for his willingness to seek help and his hard work.

A-Yuan and A-Ling included: the kids were growing up too fast, involving their uncle in their school projects and plans for mischief any chance they got to see him.

Lan Huan caught everyone by surprise one day in autumn by confirming YanLi and Wei Ying’s suspicions about his breakup with Nie MingJue, Nie HuaiSang’s older brother.

the older man didn’t tell them why he had stepped back from his engagement with the man, aside from saying that the both of them had found out something concerning about their past and common acquaintances. the discovery making them feel so disheartened to the point of braking their engagement of mutual accord.

JC felt bad for the man, knowing how much it hurt to lose someone so dear. not that they had had been able to discuss over the matter much, not even after A-Yao had left. it would have been awkward to talk about their common ex and his penchant for secrets and hurting other people’s feelings.

but they understood each other well enough and started talking more, out of their common interest in their nephews and their well-being.

.

five years later, JC was forty-two and content with his life. A-Ling was close to thirteen and A-Yuan quickly approaching fifteen. he could see them growing up and out of his reach, but their affection for him never wavered. until one day A-Yuan called him in the middle of the night, startling him awake.

apparently, his best friend JinGyi had called him for help after being beaten up by his foster mother and A-Yuan didn’t know what to do. calling his parents would have only alerted and worried Wei Ying and Lan Zhan, who were probably still asleep and hadn’t even noticed their son had sneaked out in the middle of the night.

panicked and worried, JC called Lan Huan instead and they left for the hospital. and something hurt at the sight of such a young boy lying still on a bed too big for him. something else clicked in JC’s brain at the sight but it would have taken him several months to realize what exactly.

furious and restless, Lan Huan spend months looking for the woman who had hurt the child, eventually destroying her in court until he pried a confession out of her. social services immediately alerted as JC inquired over the possibility of giving the child a permanent home himself.

not even a year later, JC was able to welcome the kid in their new house in the quietest part of town. it took a while for the boy to adjust, worrying over JC eventually changing his mind and letting him go. “who even adopts someone close to be of age?” JinGyi had asked, frustrated and certain JC would grow bored of him.

but JC was there to reassure him every step of the way, telling him family was forever and not something easily dismissible. he repeated it until the boy seemed satisfied and called him “dad” for the first time one inconspicuous evening at dinner. if JC cried on his pizza, well, nobody has to know.

.

Lan Huan was glad to listen to JC gushing over his son, more than supportive and borderline enthusiastic to listen to every little progress and new success.

JC knew this was enough, but he would lie saying he hadn’t felt loved by the other man. yet, he didn’t dare hope he could have another chance at happiness at almost fifty years old. Lan Huan himself close to fifty-five and well settled into his career as a lawyer...too much to consider a valuable partnership with someone like JC.

his therapist had bashed him for ages over such insecurity, but JC could only smile at him and shrug. many people didn’t find their happy ending and he still had JinGyi to look after. which seemed a good way to spend the rest of his life.

so it came as a surprise when, one evening, as JC overlooked at Lan Huan building a piece of furniture with JinGyi in their living room, he started crying with love and affection.

“why are you crying Jiang Cheng?”

“I’m happy.”

he really was.

he still is to this day.

*

[they don’t marry, but they do spend the rest of their life together anyway]

I need a break, this took days to make D:

[2sunchild2]

Daminette au: When Karma bites back

Au created by the one and only Ozzie Osbourne @ozmav this is dedicated to you ♥️♥️♥️

Tags ûwû: @realrandomposts @slytherinsheashire @kelelamentia @justatempo-writes @maxdark158 @maribat-archive @mindfulmagics @chloe-bourgeois-is-big-gay @jaynintodd @miraculous-mangoes

===================================================

“Are you nervous?”

Marinette looked at her husband through the bathroom mirror. He was leaning against the doorframe of the hotel bathroom, looking at her with concerned eyes. She sighed and put her hairbrush down and turned around.

“About what? They already have their deluded opinions of me, I’m just going to see if they acquired any brain cells since high school.”

He said nothing. He simply chuckled and strolled towards her to embrace her in a comforting hug and tucked her head under his chin. They stayed like that for a good minute before he released her and cupped her face, “You’re a terrible liar, Angel.”

She pouted and pushed him away, “Shut up, I have to fix my hair, shoo.”

Damian smiled and walked out.

Marinette looked back at herself in the mirror and sighed.

“Tikki, would you mind helping me out?”

The kwami only let out a giggle.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

“We can always back out you know,” she looked at her husband, “You don’t have to see them again.”

“Yeah I know, but I want to. I’m gonna the bigger person here.”

They drove quietly to the school, though the silence was interrupted by Damian’s laughter. Marinette’s eyebrow twitched. He was mocking her. She hated being mocked. Keeping her eyes on the road, she calmly asked him, “And just what, is so funny darling?”

“How can you be the bigger person if you’re so short?”

Marinette scoffed and parked the car, “I can kick your ass.”

Damian stared back at her lovingly, “I know.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& &&&&&&&&

If you ever told eighteen year old Marinette she would come back to François-DuPont for a high school reunion, she’d laugh at you and would proceed to make fun of you.

As soon as she graduated from that hell hole, she attended Regal Academy to pursue her career as a designer, and she managed to find a tight knit group of friends. Felix joined her in designing, specifically men’s fashion, Allegra became a musician, Claude became a famous theatrical artist and Allen was a composer working with Allegra. She had other friends too, she was a social person after all. Luka, Chloe and Kagami. She cherished those idiots and loved them with all her heart. She and Chloe put their differences aside and turns out, they actually have quite a lot in common. During her last year of high school it felt like it was just her and Chloe against the world. And then Kagami and Luka came.

Her heart warmed at the thought of seeing Chloe again. She hadn’t seen her since the wedding five years ago. Yes, she was married. At twenty two she had accepted Damian Wayne’s proposal and they got married the next year. Sure, she married young, but when you and your fiancé are already doing very well in life you don’t need to worry about anything.

She felt Damian squeezing her hand for reassurance. She looked at him briefly before looking back at the gym doors.

Here goes nothing.

@@@@@@@@@ @@@@@@@@@ @@@@@@@@@ @@@@@@

Lila was a lawyer, a very successful one at that. She was rich, she lived a lavish life and she had a rich husband. Being Lila Agreste was amazing. That didn’t stop her from spewing lies fro her lips.

Her old classmates, except a few who didn’t care for her anymore, hung onto every word she told.

“Why yes, I did meet MDC. We didn’t get along at first but we managed to put our differences aside.”

It was no secret MDC was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. But the raven haired girl was far more successful than she was and she wanted people to know she still has connections to famous personalities.

Alya lightly flinched at the name, “Didn’t you and Marinette used to hate each other? You told us she used to bully you.”

Lila knew this question would come up so she smartly replied, “yeah well, we’re adults now. She apologized and we made up. We’re like this.” She crossed her fingers.

A loud scoff was heard and she, along with a few others, turned to see Chloe of all people standing there. Kim let out a low whistle and Alix elbowed him. She stood there in a gold dress that hugged her figure beautifully and she was dripping in jewels a champagne glass in hand.

“What do you want Chloe?” Alya rolled her eyes and put a hand on her hip. “Shouldn’t you be crying to your daddy about someone getting dirt on your tote? Oh wait— daddy’s in jail now for being a fraud right?”

The blonde only glared at the other girl and gripped her glass tightly. She took a deep breath, “I’ll have you know I no longer that connections to that spineless coward. I moved to New York with my mom and studied to become a human rights activist. But you wouldn’t know that, would you Alya? And just what are you doing now? Filming more gossip for your tabloid?”

Alya got predictably angry and wasbkut to hell at her before being stopped by Nino. He merely shook his head, telling her it wasn’t worth it, when she tried to defend herself.

“Chloe? Is there a problem?”

The rather large group turned to see none other than Kagami Tsurugi walk up to them. Chloe simply smiled, “No darling, everything’s fine.”

“You... you guys... are a thing?” Alya managed to spit out after the shock.

“Yes, is there a problem?” Kagami glared at the other girl who flinched and looked away.

“Kagami, don’t you think that’s a little rude?”

That voice gave Alya and Lila a sense of relief. There he stood, looking as good as he did in high school, just a tad bit more mature. His blond hair was cut short and his green eyes seemed to pierce through everyone’s soul.

“Adrien! Darling!” Lila yelled and jumped to hug him.

Chloe stepped back, eyes widened when she caught sight of a ring she realized what happened between those two. He got married. He got married to that lying bitch no less. He got married and... and he didn’t even tell her. He didn’t even invite her.

“I was just telling everyone how I met up with Marinette. I did give her the inspiration for her latest fashion line, after all.”

Chloe and Kagami opened their mouths to tell her off, knowing that Marinette got her idea when one of her employees told her how hard it was to find nice clothes in her size.

“You know,” a cold voice called out, “ I would appreciate it if you didn’t talk about my wife as if you actually know her.”

All heads turned to see a brooding man with black hair and the scariest green eyes they’ve come to know. He wore a fitted designer suit and stood tall, with the aura only a business man could have. And by the looks of it, he seemed to be a pretty successful one at that.

And right there, holding his hand was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She looked stunning in the dark red red she wore. It was a simple backless halter top and the skirt of the dress had two long slits on each side that showcased her legs. She held herself with pride and most importantly dignity.

She scanned the room, ignoring the many eyes looking at her before they stopped on one couple. Her eyes widened with excitement and she could’ve squealed like a school girl.

“Chlo! Mimi!”

She grabbed her husband’s arm and dragged him across the room while she sped to her two friends and engulfed them with a hug.

“Oh I’ve missed you guys so much! How’ve you two been? Are the preparations going as planned? Do you still want me to make your dresses?”

A million questions were asked and the girls couldn’t answer any of them with how quickly Marinette was going.

“Angel,” her husband called her, she stopped and looked back at him, “Let then breathe a little. They’re won’t be able to answer any of your questions if you’re going a hundred miles per hour.”

Marinette smiled sheepishly, “I guess you’re right.”

There was a cough and the raven haired girl turned to see none other than her former best friend, Alya Césaire. Or Lahiffe. She was not invited to the wedding, but she was requested to make the dress. She only agreed because she was getting paid. Thought Alya did throw a fit for pay because “girl we used to be friends!”

Funny.

“Aren’t you gonna say hi?”

Marinette looked at her, genuinely confused, “Now why would I do that?”

“Aren’t you friends with Lila? You could at least eat civil and say hi to the rest of us.”

Marinette slowly blinked. Realization dawned on her quickly. Lila lies about her. She told them they were friends. They were far from it. If anything, Marinette hated that girl with every fibre of her being.

“I don’t recall saying I was friends with Lila,” she turned to Chloe and Kagami, “Do you girls remember me saying that?”

They shook their heads.

“Honey,” her husband looked up from his phone, “Do you remember me saying I was friends with Lila?”

“What? No. You told me you hated her ever since she threatened you in the school bathroom.”

Now it was Lila’s turn to flinch.

Her husband seemed lost in thought for a moment before snapping his finger, “And I remember you telling me how she told you she’d alienate you from the class, when she lied about napkins somehow being dangerous? Knowing Prince Ali. I know the man, he doesn’t know of a Lila by the way. Saving Jagged Stone’s cat, which he never had and being Clara Nightingale’s emergency contact? Don’t those two treat you like family Angel?”

“Damian, sweetheart,” she put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, “that’s enough.”

Lila glared at the man, “Who do you think you are?!”

He gave her a bored look, “A Wayne.”

Conversation stopped. Now everyone looked at the couple in the middle of the room. A Wayne. A fucking Wayne.

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitfuck

“Hey now, let’s not argue about this,” there he was, trying to solve conflict like the fucking saviour he thought he was. Marinette scoffed and looked away.

“Mind your god damned business Agreste.”

“This is my business, Wayne. Especially if my wife is involved.”

Ah yes, another dress she was requested to make. She had charged extra for that dress because she was asked to make it a month before the wedding itself.

Damian simply glared at the blond boy, “You’re acting as if this doesn’t concern my wife either.”

“Damian, love, don’t bother. You’re better than this,” she put her hand of his chest and when he turned to look at her she smiled, “how about we get some champagne and sit at one of the tables yeah? Chloe? Kagami? Will you be joining us? “

“In a minute hun, we need to talk to them first,” Chloe replied dismissively and Marinette nodded.

“You have a lot of nerve trying to lie about her,” Kagami started, “ you know damn well she doesn’t want anything to do with you. And I’m sure you’ve made it clear you don’t like her, so why bother lying about it?”

Lila fidgeted. The classmates watched her expectantly. Fifteen seconds later Alix yelled out in frustration and dragged Max and Kim to the table to apologize.

“I... I.. um..” she started, not being able to form a proper sentence.

“You... you...” Chloe mocked. Adrien gave her a dark look but she didn’t flinch. She gave him a blank stare in return.

“You don’t actually know Jagged Stone, do you.”

“Was Spielberg a lie too?”

“Why’d you lie about everything?”

“Was it really all a lie?”

Lila, who couldn’t work this fast under pressure, walked away to the girls’ bathroom.

€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€

The couple watched the mess unfold and waited while several people came towards them with apologetic faces.

“Don’t you think that was a little harsh?”

“Angel, it was well deserved.”

They laughed together for what seemed like forever. She was happy where she was. She had accepted their apologies naturally because she was a kind person. The same couldn’t be said for Damian but it didn’t matter to the rest of the class.

Adrien watched her. She looked so happy. She smiled like that when they were younger. She smiled like that when they were running on rooftops on warm Parisian nights.

He traced the finger where his silver ring used to be. He missed those times. He missed being with her. Maybe if he stopped Lila when he could, things would have been different. Maybe he would’ve been on the receiving end of that smile. Maybe he would’ve been the one to embrace her like that. And maybe, just maybe, she would look at him the way he looked at her. But she didn’t. All because of his passive stupidity.

He caught her husband’s eyes, who immediately glared at him and sucked in a deep breath. He whispered something in her year and she looked back at him. And all he could do was look away. She didn’t spare him a second glance because she turned around and gave him a peck on the cheek.

££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££

the end? maybe I’ll continue? This was getting long anyways. Should I make a part 2?

🤷🏼‍♀️ yes or no

[maddie-the-princess]

If You Love Me, Let Me Go Part 7

Fandom: Sanders Sides

AU: High School 

Pairing(s): LAMP

Summary: Virgil and his family are new to the neighborhood. He starts a new school where he learns to love himself, and maybe, love his new friends. 

Warnings: Cursing 

Thank you to @kuroyurishion for helping me with this chapter. Please enjoy the story. 

Chapter Seven: Dress to Impress

Virgil’s POV

Sunday passed with me not leaving my room unless I had to eat. My parents were out that day with their new co-workers, so I was left alone in the house for the day. Then came Monday. I had woken up before my alarm this time. Groaning, I snuggled further into my comforter, wanting to catch a couple more minutes, but I remembered what Remy said on Saturday. He wanted me to wear a couple of my new clothes, so I got out of bed with a huff. I’ll use this time to prepare a new outfit after going through my normal routine.

I decided to wear my new Twenty One Pilots t-shirt and a new red and black flannel. I rolled the sleeves up to my elbows and put on a couple bracelets to hide my wrists. I wore my new dark blue ripped jeans and black Doc Martens. Moving over to my vanity, I put on my makeup and painted my nails a light blue, like the sky. Taking a deep breath, I looked in the mirror at my new outfit. It was different. I looked different, but in a good way. 

I went downstairs and was surprised to see my dad sitting alone at the table, my mom nowhere to be seen. She did, however, leave French Toast and milk for breakfast. My dad raised an eyebrow at my new outfit.

“I see you're breaking out the new colors.” he joked, hinting at the red and blue as opposed to my purple and black. “Did you buy that?” I nodded in response and sat down to eat breakfast. I was almost afraid of what my mom would say about my new look. My dad seemed ok about it, but my mom was a whole different story. Thankfully, she wasn’t here, but that still seemed suspicious. Glancing over at him, he answered my silent question. “Your mother went to work early. Said something about making a good first impression.”

I hummed as I cleaned up breakfast and went to get my stuff before I raced out the door. As I walked to school, I took deep slow breaths. These were new clothes. New school, a new style of dress, I suppose. Oh god, what are my friends gonna say? What if I looked terrible and they’re all gonna give me a look of sympathy or whatever. I shook my head.

‘I’ve made it this far. Can’t go back and change now.’ I thought and finished my walk to school. ‘Wonder who I’m gonna see first?’ I thought as I waved at Talyn and Joan who was chatting with them. I walked over to my locker in eager anticipation. I caught the sight of a red jacket, and smirked. Guess I didn’t have to wait long. 

*** Roman’s POV

Neither Patton nor Logan were here to greet me when I walked into school. Patton was talking to Mr. Sanders about presumably Virgil and his first week here, and Logan arrived at school early for his club. You know, doing his job as Junior Class President. That means, I get to see Virgil first this morning. I dragged a whining Remus down the hall.

“Roro, chill. You don’t even know if he’s here or not.” Remus whined. I rolled my eyes at my twin. You would think I was the older one.

“If he’s not, then we’ll just wait for him at his locker.” I retorted. Remus groaned goodheartedly. 

“Why do you wanna see him so early anyway?” he asked. 

“I just wanna ask him how his week was.” I answered with huff. Remus rolled his eyes. I was about to say something back to him when I suddenly stopped. Remus crashed into me a second later. 

“What the fuck Ro! What gives?” he said with a scowl, but he looked at what I was looking at and his face morphed into a gleeful smile. 

Virgil stood at his locker, taking his books out dutifully and checking his phone ever once in a while? Was a picture of his schedule on his phone? That didn’t matter at the moment because right now, Virgil had all of my attention. He looked appealing, with his dark colors that seemed to match. His makeup looked awesome too. I didn’t notice I was staring at him until I heard his locker door slam. 

“Close your mouth Ro, or you’ll catch flies.” Virgil said with a slight smirk. “See something you like?” 

Remus cackled but I ignored him as I scanned his outfit. My eyes were drawn to his red flannel and the black choker wrapped around his neck. I saw him waiting with some nervous anticipation. He wanted me to answer? If so, I'll answer honestly. 

“You look stunning Hot Topic.” I complimented with a purr. I saw Virgil falter for a second and a light blush appeared on his cheeks. I smirked when I saw this. 

“Aww you think I’m hot.” he said with a shy smile. Is that how he wanted to do this? Two can play at that game. 

“I don’t think. I know.” I replied cheekily. “You look really good.” Virgil let out a small squeak. 

“RIght back at you.” Virgil stammered. Oh, he’s so cute when he tries. I opened my mouth to say something back, but the warning bell rang. I cursed under my breath. It really has the worst timing.

Virgil sighed. “Well that was fun.” he said. “I’ll see you in class Ro.” He turned and walked away but paused and looked back. “I’ll text you later Re!” he called and walked off. 

Remus waved him a goodbye. “Later shortie!” he called. I turned and looked at him dead in the eye. “Roro? You good? Did Vee break you?” Remus asked gleefully. We both stared at each other for a couple minutes.

“How the hell did you get his number?!” I exploded. 

“Eeek!” Remus squealed and ran down the hallway with me close at his heels. 

*** Virgil’s POV

I can’t fucking believe I flirted with Roman King. When I reached Math class and sat down at my seat, all confidence left me as I slammed my head down into my arms. Dee looked at me curiously with a concerned frown on his face. 

“Nice to see you wearing your new clothes, but are you good over there shortstuff?” he asked. I grumbled a response. “What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

“I flirted with Roman King.” I whispered to him, my face red. Dee hid his laugh with a cough. 

“I’m sorry, please repeat that.” he said. I glared at him, but explained what happened in the hallway. He grinned mischievously. “Who knew that shortstuff could flirt? Remy would be proud.” I groaned at the thought of telling Remy. Dee continued to tease me throughout class while I was trying to concentrate. 

When the bell rang, I raced over to Science class. Logan was already sitting there, looking over his notes. I was curious to see what his reaction was, so I quietly sat down in my seat next to him. 

“Good morning Logan.” I greeted quietly. He looked up at me to return the greeting, but suddenly stopped. I could hear the computer error noises as I laughed at him. Logan regained his composure first before greeting me.

“Good morning to you too, Virgil.” Logan began, placing his notecards down. “And I must say, you look very nice today.” I blushed at his words. 

“You think so? I wanted to try something different. You know, a new school means a new outlook.” I replied weakly. Wow, that was a lame excuse for wanting to impress you, Roman, and Patton. But so far, I think it’s working? 

Logan hummed. “Yes, well, a new, positive outlook can be beneficial to a person. It’ll benefit you most importantly as you are the new student here. Think of it as a way of getting comfortable in your own skin.” he replied. Damn it Logan, stop being a hot nerd for just one second please!

“Alright Lo, I’ll keep that in mind.” I replied. 

“Of course. As the Junior Class President, and as, presumably, one of your friends, it’s important for you to be comfortable here.” Logan said dutifully. A hot nerd who’s also considerate? Just wonderful.

“You’re my friend Lo, don’t worry.” I said as Mr. Williams began the lesson. 

*** Remy caught me walking into the lunch room with a whistle. “Look at you babe!” he called, approaching me with his coffee in hand and slinging his arm over my shoulder. “Don’t you clean up nicely?” I pushed his arm off playfully.

“Yeah yeah.” I muttered with a small smile. We walked to our usual table where Remus and Dee were waiting for us. Remus had this maniac grin on his face that basically spelled trouble. 

“Doesn’t Vee look good in his outfit?” Remy asked the other two whe we got our lunches out. I had another sandwich. Dee nodded in agreement.

“He does. We both agree on that.” Dee said, leaning towards me from the other side of the table. “But we’re not the only one who agrees.” 

Remy peers from above his sunglasses. “Oh? Got something to spill?” he asks curiously, taking a sip of coffee.

Remus giggled when I gave him a glare. “Don’t you dare!” I hissed. Dee hissed back.

“Shortie over here has some game.” Remus said, interrupting us and giving me a teasing wink. “He flirted with my brother.” I buried my head in my hands as Remy gaped at me.

“Shut up.” he exclaimed, looking at me with wide eyes. “Vee did?!”

“He did.” Remus confirmed, nodding. “I was there, and I witnessed everything.

“And I missed it?!” 

“Thank god for that.” I mumbled, finally removing my head from my hands. This was embarrassing. “And keep your voice down!”

“No way babe! I can’t believe you flirted with one of the most popular guys in this school! And I missed it!” Remy lamented dramatically. 

‘Roman was one of the most popular boys in school.’ I thought. “Makes sense. I mean, he’s cute, charming, and has a nice personality. He also has a nice- ok Virgil, let’s stop these thoughts right now. Now’s not the right time to have a gay panic because you’re in front of your friends.’ 

I snapped out of my thoughts when Remy placed his hand on my shoulder comfortingly. “You good there babe?” he asked, and I nodded. “Good. What were you saying Remus?” We turned to our resident trash goblin, who took out his phone.

“I recorded the whole thing.” Remus said gleefully. I looked at him in horror while Remy looked with glee. Dee chuckled at my expression

“Delete that right now!” I hissed again. Dee hissed back.

“Don’t listen to him Re. Send that right now to the group chat.” Remy demanded, and I watched in despair as Remus did just that. 

***

I saw Roman during English, and I fought down a blush as the two of us sat next to one another. Roman shamelessly flirted and complimented me the entire time.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” Roman said when there was about five minutes left of class. “When did Remus give you his number?”

I looked over at him in surprise. “Last week during lunch? He and his friends wanted to hang at the mall on Saturday, so they invited me to come with them. Why?” I answered. A strange expression crossed his face. 

“No reason.” he answered lightly. I wasn’t convinced, but let the subject drop. The bell rang, signaling the end of class. I got up to leave.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Ro, ok?” I said soothingly when he got up. He seemed upset, but smiled when I said goodbye. 

“‘Until then, gatito.” he said and left the room. I followed after.

Art was next. Patton was already inside the room when I walked in. Patton whipped his head up to greet me with a bright smile, but instead his jaw dropped and stared. I blushed when he started squealing and waved his hands over. I walked towards him with a bashful smile and sat down in my seat.

“Eeeee is that outfit new Kiddo?!” he asked excitedly. I nodded with a smile. It looks like all three of them like it. Patton looked over my outfit with an attentive eye, taking in the red and the dark blue. I suppose being an artist will give you that. His eyes landed on the light blue on my nails and gasped, eyes wide and sparkling. 

“Kiddo!” Patton breathed excitedly. He grabbed my hand and inspected my nails. “You’re matching with me!” He wore a light blue jacket today.

I laughed nervously. “What a coincidence, right?” I choked out as the teacher began the lesson. We were practicing shading. Patton and I worked while talking, but I noticed that his eyes wandered over to the light blue of my nails. This continued for the remainder of class. When the bell rang, he followed me to my locker. 

“So kiddo,” Patton started when we got to my locker, “I was wondering if you’re doing ok, especially after your first week of school.” I hummed in response. The first week was different and exciting, as much as I’d like to admit. I made new friends that seem really nice. I told Patton such, and he smiled.

“That’s good! Here, give me your phone for a minute.” he asked kindly. I gave Patton a confused look, but handed it over cautiously. “I’m not gonna do anything! Promise.” Patton tapped the screen a couple times and handed it back to me. 

Patton gave me his number, and my heart nearly leapt out of my chest. I stuttered out my thanks and he giggled at me. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me. Doesn’t matter what the time is, just send me a text or something if you need help.” he said happily. Oh lord, this boy is too much, too nice. “Bye Cutie Pie!” Patton left me in my state of shock.

“I can’t believe I just witnessed that with my own two eyes.” I snapped out of it and whipped around to see Remy holding his phone up and grinning wickedly at me. “Look at you Vee! Guess our little shopping trip did something to you.” 

“Delete that.” I wheezed. I didn’t even see him walk by! Remy shook his head and started texting on his phone. 

“Oh the others are going to get a kick out of this.” Remy snickered. Oh this was so embarrassing. I flushed red and chased Remy down the hall and out the building, the two of us laughing the whole way out. 

“Remy! Delete that right now!” I huffed. Remy shook his head. 

“Now way babe! This is gold!” Remy yelled back and raised his phone up in the air teasingly. I glared. Why do all my friends have to be taller than me? But I got one of my crush’s numbers, so I guess it makes up for the teasing Remus and Dee are going to put me through later tonight.

Anyone wanna be in my taglist? Let me know!

Taglist:

@sure-i-exist

@theoretically--speaking

@sups-stuff

[liesyousoldme]

the last WIP of eddie month! i saved the longest for last (it’s over 11k words lmao) and hopefully you all enjoy it even though it’s forever unfinished. this was meant to be my big bang fic and then life happened and i was never able to finish it - it even has a few plot points outlined at the end (but even those don’t take you to the actual end of the story, oop). anyway, happy eddie month everyone!

this was a fun experiment in which i combined my favorite parts of each canon - book, miniseries, and movies - into one weird amalgamation that probably only makes sense to me. there is canon-typical violence, homophobia including slurs (henry bowers), and mentions of suicide (stan lives, but it was close).

“Eddie?”

He groaned out loud, turning his computer monitor off and turning in his desk chair.

“Yeah, Ma?” He shouted.

“Eddie come down here, please,” she said, her voice traveling up the stairs. He rolled his eyes and left the home office and found her standing at the bottom of the stairs. He stood on the landing at the top, looking down at her. “Down here, Eddie.”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes again as he took the stairs two at a time.

“Eddie, stop that! You know how dangerous that is! What if you fell and broke a leg? You know how easily bone fragments travel, Eddie, you know –“

“Yeah, Ma, I know,” he answered, ignoring her demand. “What is it?”

“I wanted to let you know you have plans on Friday evening,” she told him, beady eyes staring into his own. He walked past her, squeezing by to get through the hallway and into the kitchen. It was about time for dinner anyway, he told himself, might as well make something while he was here.

“And what plans would those be, Ma?” He asked, assuming he had to take her to bingo or the pharmacy or the emergency room. 

“You’ll be taking Vicky Beck to dinner.”

He turned to look at her, eyebrow raised. “Who?”

“Vicky Beck, dear,” she repeated, as if saying the name again would stoke the embers of his memory. He just looked at her blankly. She sighed, annoyance radiating off of her as she plopped down into a chair at the kitchen table. “She’s Marjorie’s daughter, Eddie. Very nice girl. Around your age, too. She’s a receptionist at one of the local doctor’s offices. I gave Marjorie a photograph of you to show her – she’s very interested.”

“No,” he said without making eye contact. He used the excuse of taking out ingredients for dinner from the pantry and refrigerator to not look at her. “I’ve told you so many times, Ma, I don’t want to date. I’m not interested.”

“Oh, Eddie,” she frowned. “I just worry! Who’s going to take care of you when I’m gone? Your health is so delicate, someone needs to be there –“

“I’m an adult, I can take care of myself,” he told her, pouring tomato sauce from a can into a pan. 

“Clearly you aren’t if you think it’s okay to use canned sauce, young man!” Sonia said, standing and smacking his hand. He huffed, putting his hands up and stepping away. “You don’t even know what’s in the disgusting preservatives they use, this stuff is full of chemicals, you’ll get cancer if you eat too much of this. I’ve told you so many times to stop buying things like this. You think you’re an adult but you don’t know, you need someone to steer you right, you make terrible decisions when no one’s around to stop you…”

“Buying canned sauce is a terrible decision? I’m the one that pays for the groceries, Ma! I should get to choose what I buy!”

She glared at him. “Edward, I’m not in the mood for your foolishness. When you stop purchasing cancer and bringing it into our home then we can talk. In the meantime, you will be going out with Vicky Beck on Friday evening. You’re too old to be alone, Eddie. My own health is beginning to falter, you’re going to need someone to take my place when I pass.”

He blinked at her. “You want me to find a woman to be my new mother when you die?”

“Do not use that tone with me, young man!”

“I’m 20, I hardly think I need to be taken care of by a surrogate mom!”

“Eddie,” she said, placing a sweaty hand on his cheek. He could smell the stench of her perfume and he did his best not to wrinkle his nose. “You have always been so… strong-willed. So full of ideas. And that would be okay, were you not sick. But you are sick, Eddie. Your delicate immune system can’t handle what others can… I’ve spent your whole life making sure you don’t go too far, to get yourself sick or hurt. And that’s what I’m doing now, with Vicky. I’m protecting you, because you need protection. No matter how hard you try to fight it, it’s the truth. So. You will see Vicky on Friday, take her to an early lunch after church on Sunday, another dinner next Wednesday, and she’ll be your girlfriend in a week’s time.”

He knew his horror was evident on his face but he couldn’t do anything to stop it. “That’s ridiculous, Ma, you can’t pick out a girlfriend for me! I don’t even want a girlfriend! And you know, just because I have asthma doesn’t mean I need protection from the big bad world, okay? I take my meds and I use my inhaler and that’s all I need! I don’t even need you! All you do is smother me, and force me into things I don’t want, so –“

“You stop that right now –“

“You know what?” He said, a burst of adrenaline-fueled courage shooting through him. He left the kitchen and started back up the stairs. “I’m leaving. I can’t stand it here anymore.”

“Eddie!” She screamed, and he knew the crocodile tears were starting. He ignored them as he grabbed a suitcase and began to pack everything that would fit.

*

Twenty-six year old Eddie Kaspbrak answered his phone, wincing when his mother’s voice came through the tinny speaker.

“Eddie? Eddie!”

“Yes, Ma, it’s me,” he said, barely containing his annoyance.

“Eddie you have to come home,” she said, sniffling. “I’ve been put in a wheelchair, Eddie, I can’t get around like I used to. I need help, you need to come home and help me.”

He sighed, massaging his temples as he felt a stress headache blooming behind his eyes. He eyed the medicine cabinet in the kitchen that held the Advil. “I’ll hire an in-house nurse, Ma, how’s that?”

“No!” She shouted, leaving him cringing. “Those nurses don’t know what they’re doing, Eddie, they’re the rejects that the hospitals and doctors offices won’t take, and I refuse it!”

He looked around his small house. He had a spare bedroom downstairs, and he supposed it wouldn’t be too difficult to add a ramp to get through the front door. With a little bit of self-hatred settling in his stomach, he said, “I’m not coming home, but you can come live with me.”

*

“You’re 32, right?” Angela asked, her fingers running through the condensation on her glass. Eddie nodded, only thinking about how disgusting it was that she wasn't using a straw. (Dishes and silverware and cups at restaurants are breeding grounds for disease, Eddie, his mind mother reminded him.) “So what are you doing living with your mom?”

He huffed. “My mom lives with me, there’s a difference.”

Angela raised an eyebrow at him.

“I take care of her. She’s old and sick, she needs help with just about everything.”

“You know…” Angela trailed off, glancing around the room. They sat in a small booth in the corner of an Olive Garden only twenty minutes from Eddie’s house. He wasn’t about to pull out all the stops for a date with yet another girl his mother set him up with. “You’re not a very good date.”

His eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

She laughed a little. “I mean, sure, you’re cute, but… Nobody wants to date a guy in his thirties who lives with his mom. You probably should save that bit of information until like, date three, at least. You won’t look me in the eye, and it makes me a little nervous because you don't seem to have a problem making eye contact with anyone else. Everything about your body language screams that you don’t want to be here. With me, specifically.”

“Do you do this on all your first dates?” He asked, offended.

“Just the bad ones,” she answered. “You know, the ones with men.”

He choked.

“Oh, come on, dude, look at me,” she said, gesturing to herself. Eddie frowned; he thought her flannel and boots looked comfortable. “This look is about as gay as you can get. My mom can’t accept it; she's constantly setting me up. Usually I tell her no but she showed me a picture of you and… well, I just had to find out what your deal is.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He asked. His face was hot.

“Eddie,” she said in a voice meant for a young child. “Your mom has a lot in common with my mom. I mean, I hate to assume, but I can almost guarantee that, just like mine, your mom is sending you on dates with the opposite sex as a very clear nudge in the right direction.”

He gaped at her, unable to form words.

She laughed, but this time it was a bit more sympathetic. “Did you not know?”

He shook his head, then reached into his pocket to take a hit on his aspirator. She raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

“Well, whether you are or aren’t, your mom thinks you’re gay.”

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself, heart pounding against his ribcage. “I don’t – what? Why?”

“I mean, you’re a single 32 year old, for starters. I’m assuming you’ve never had a girlfriend. Had any boyfriends you kept secret? She probably would’ve caught on.”

“I’m not – I’m not –“ He couldn’t bring himself to say the word. Angela’s expression was changing quickly from one of amusement to one of pity. She opened her mouth to say something when the waiter stopped at their table, placing their food in front of them. They began to eat in silence (Eddie had already sanitized his knife and fork), and when they started to talk again, neither of them brought it back up.

*

There weren’t enough people for a funeral so instead they had a simple graveside memorial service in the Bangor Cemetery. One of his aunts spoke through crocodile tears so much like hers about what a good mother Sonia had been, and Eddie’s eyes stayed dry.

After, he met his three aunts at a café for a small lunch, and they got onto him when he didn’t order salad. They got onto him because he didn’t cry during the service. They got onto him for constantly keeping his poor mother in a state of such stress. They got onto him for leaving her for New York in the first place. They got onto him for not being married at 35, for not giving his mother grandchildren before she died.

He nodded and kept his mouth closed.

*

There was a method to his madness, he’d swear by it. Vitamins in the morning, followed by an anxiety pill if he needed one (he always needed one), followed by breakfast, which usually consisted of eggs (he enjoyed variety, so he made his eggs differently each day of the week – Wednesday was scrambled) and wheat toast with margarine spread on one side, the crusts cut off (the crusts are too easy to choke on, his mother’s voice said from inside his head), and then brushing his teeth. He got dressed, checked his email and the weather on his phone (a sunny day, cloud-free (but you never know, storms can just crop up out of no where – best bring your boots and rain jacket and umbrella just in case, you wouldn’t want to catch a cold and end up with pneumonia just because the weather forecast was wrong) and cool), and stepped out the door of his Queens apartment.

He walked to his stop and got on the subway, used an antibacterial wipe to clean the place where his hand would be holding onto the rail (his mind mother reminded him how easy it was to catch something that way – all you have to do is rub your nose, Eddie, and suddenly you’re sick with whatever the germ-infested subway rider that stood there before you had), and held onto his phone for the 30 minute ride. He exited at the financial district and walked for 2 minutes to his office building. He used the stairs to get to the eleventh floor (take the elevator, Eddie, you don’t want to aggravate your asthma) because he liked the slight burn in his legs by the time he made it to his floor. He stopped in the bathroom to wash his hands (you have to wash your hands, Eddie, you have to), said hello to Brianne at the front desk, and sat in the chair in front of his computer in his cubicle.

The work day tended to be boring. He spent a lot of time typing up reports, and even more time responding to emails. By his lunch break, he usually felt as though his brain was going to melt out of his ears. He popped two Advil to stave off the oncoming stress headache.

He ate lunch with his co-workers – they walked together a few blocks to a deli that made great sandwiches, and though he sat with them he didn’t talk much. In the beginning he fielded a lot of questions he didn’t want to answer, but after fifteen years they knew not to ask.

Except Daniel, who had started two weeks prior.

“So, Eddie,” he said, as they sat in the break room. He gestured at Eddie’s left hand. “I see you’re not married.”

“No,” Eddie agreed, taking a bite of sandwich. He hoped it would send a solid shut the fuck up message, but Daniel kept on.

“No? You got a girlfriend, at least? You’re what – 45?”

“40,” he said, his voice clipped.

“You’re 40 and not married? That’s rough man, what’s up with that?”

Eddie breathed in deeply, hand patting his pocket to feel for his aspirator. “Just never met the right person, I suppose.”

“Not even divorced?” Daniel asked, his voice getting higher with incredulity. Eddie bristled; it felt very much like he was being made fun of, but he didn’t know what to say. It reminded him of childhood bullies, calling him names before he even knew what they meant. He'd always talked back to - well, to whoever his tormentor had been back then. Now his brain wouldn't supply him with any quippy response, any thinly veiled insult. How had he been so brazen as a kid and so timid now? He tried but he couldn't even remember much of his childhood, like everything before he was 18 and living in Bangor with his mom had a thick haze covering it.

“Never married, no girlfriend,” he said plainly, unable to come up with anything better. He looked away.

“Boyfriend, then?” Daniel said. Eddie’s stomach turned and he flushed.

“I’m single, Daniel,” he said, before wrapping what was left of his sandwich (almost all of it) and standing. “I’m going to have lunch at my desk today, if you don’t mind.”

He didn’t wait for an answer before leaving the room, ignoring Daniel’s exclamations of “I wasn’t trying to upset him!”

He sat at his desk, fuming. He could hear the voice of someone he’d been out with once, laughing in his head.

Your mom thinks you’re gay.

But he wasn’t. And it wasn’t that strange for someone to be 40 and single. He knew plenty of people his age that weren’t married! Granted, most of them were divorced, but the point stood. Marriage wasn’t everything. Love wasn’t everything. He’d made it on his own for 40 years, and besides that he wasn’t interested in anyone. Couldn’t remember ever liking anyone enough to do anything about it. He could recognize when women were attractive, but it didn’t go beyond that. Can’t a man live alone with no romantic relationship and not get shit for it?

“Hey, Eddie,” said a voice from behind him. He spun in his chair. Jeanine stood there, a regretful frown on her red lips. “I’m so sorry about Daniel back there. Apparently he’s the type that doesn’t know when to shut up.”

(Your mom thinks you’re gay)

“A lot of that going around,” Eddie said, trying to ignore the voice in his head telling him to ask Jeanine out. He couldn’t even tell if it was his mother or someone else. It wasn’t his own voice, though.

Jeanine smiled awkwardly, like she wasn’t sure what he meant. “Right. Hopefully you’ll still eat with us tomorrow. We told Daniel to cool it.”

“No worries,” Eddie lied. “I needed to get some work done anyway.”

Jeanine glanced over his shoulder at his computer that he hadn’t turned back on. “Of course. And I wanted to let you know… This office is very accepting. There’s no… Judgment here. Just… So you know.”

Eddie pulled his aspirator from his pocket and took a hit.

(You’re sick, Eddie, you’re delicate, but I can protect you from yourself, a wife could protect you from yourself, you’ll always be sick but)

“Thank you for the sentiment, Jeanine,” he said, turning back in his chair. He heard her walk away and sagged against the backrest. Moments later, his phone rang.

He picked it up and frowned at the area code. Derry, Maine? He was… He was from there, wasn’t he? That was where he’d lived with his mother before they moved to Bangor. Derry was the town covered with thick haze that he couldn't completely conceptualize.

He answered the call with his heart in his throat, unsure why his hands were shaking so badly.

“Edward Kaspbrak speaking.”

“Eddie?” The voice said. He didn’t recognize it. “Eddie, it’s Mike. You need to come home. It’s back.”

The haze began to lift.

*

“I’m glad you made it, Eddie,” Mike said, offering a hug. Eddie warily wrapped his arms around Mike before glancing around the restaurant. 

“If I’d remembered more before I got on the plane, I probably wouldn’t have,” he said honestly. Once he started getting flashes of a rotting leper, of a decrepit house, of a clown’s drool on his face, he wanted to turn right back around. 

“How much do you remember?” Mike asked.

Just before he could answer, another voice joined them.

“Hey, guys.” Eddie turned and smiled. He would recognize Bill Denbrough anywhere (though he hadn't, had he? He owned his books, had seen his picture on the back cover, and he'd never thought twice about it). He stepped away after another hug, letting the other two catch up. He stood looking into the large fish tank, anything to get a reprieve from the memories that were hitting him, and then jumped when something hit the large gong next to their table. He spun, his eyes catching on red hair first. Beverly was smiling, and another man stood next to her, tall and thin and handsome, and somehow Eddie knew it was –

“Ben?”

“That was my reaction!” Beverly said with a laugh.

“You acknowledge Ben before you acknowledge me? Some kind of best friend you are, Eds.”

“Don’t call me Eds,” he said, the words spilling from his mouth without thought. He looked to Richie, wearing an ugly mustard color shirt beneath a leather jacket. He wore glasses much like the ones he’d worn in childhood, though they magnified his eyes a little less, and his hair was messy. He'd seen Richie's face, too, on a Netflix special he'd felt oddly compelled to watch. “You actually became a comedian.”

Richie’s cheeks turned pink and he took a few steps closer, hands in his pockets.

“I mean,” Eddie continued, “It’s not ventriloquism but not half-bad!”

Richie laughed loudly, his head thrown back. “Fuck, even I forgot I wanted to be a ventriloquist!”

“You would’ve made a terrible ventriloquist, Rich. Eddie was just too nice to tell you.”

They turned at the new voice, smiling at the curly hair and sweater.

“Stanley!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said through a smile. After Eddie felt like he’d hugged everyone twice, they took their seats. He sat between Richie and Ben, right across from Bill. Stan was on Richie’s other side, already talking about his accounting firm and his wife Patty.

“She sounds lovely,” Beverly said with a smile.

“You’re not married?” He asked, pointing to her left hand. 

She frowned, touching her ring finger. “Uh, technically I am. I guess I kind of… left him?”

Eddie’s eyes widened. 

Beverly shrugged, waving them off. “It’s fine! What about everyone else? Anyone else married?”

“I am,” Bill said. “Her name’s Audra; you guys would probably recognize her if you saw her –“

“Oh shit, she’s that movie star!” Richie said loudly. “And you’re an author, I’ve totally bought your books before, dude!”

“I have, too,” Eddie admitted. He hadn’t known why he bought them at the time, but it had felt like something he needed to do. He thought he might even own a jacket from Rogue & Marsh.

“Nobody else is married? What about you, Ben?”

“No,” Ben said, cheeks pink. 

“But dude, you’re so hot, how are you single?” Richie said, punching a shocked laugh from Eddie’s chest.

Ben rolled his eyes playfully. “I mean, I’m not lonely by any means –“

Richie cut him off to whoop loudly.

“Anyway, what about you, Trashmouth?”

“Nope!”

“Divorce?” Bill asked with a smirk.

“I’m offended, Big Bill. No, no divorce. Haven’t had a serious relationship in… probably fifteen years. Kinda hard to hold anything down when you’re touring all the time.”

“Makes sense,” Beverly agreed, before her eyes met Eddie’s. He groaned. “What about you, Eddie?”

“Uh, no marriage, no divorce, very boring. Next.”

“No way, Eds, you can’t get off the hook that easy!” Richie exclaimed. “C’mon, when was your last relationship?”

Eddie looked down at the table. “Haven’t really had one. I was never really interested.”

The table had quieted, like Eddie had dropped a blanket of discomfort on all of them.

“It’s not a big deal,” he said, finally looking back up. He could feel Richie’s eyes burning a hole in the side of his head but he didn’t look. “I like living alone. I have friends at work and I always have nice chats with the pharmacist and... Look, it’s not like I’m lonely, okay? It’s fine. I’m fine.”

The conversation moved on quickly, Eddie’s discomfort obvious to everyone. Richie kept looking at him as though he were a puzzle, and as soon as the waitress returned to their table Eddie ordered himself a shot of whiskey and a bottle of beer, not even thinking about the fact that he would be drinking straight from the glass and don't you know, Eddie, dishes and silverware and cups at restaurants are a breeding ground for germs! Now that he'd remembered his asthma was fake, his aspirator a placebo, he felt like he could count the hours wasted on sanitization and worry about his delicate system. It made him boil with anger, that she had taken so much from him while giving him so many issues. He didn't want to waste more time. His system was fine.   

The night was long and draining, as much a reunion as it was a horror show. He was almost positive he remembered everything now, as did the others, and Mike claimed to have a plan. For now, though, they had some time to sleep. No point in heading into Neibolt exhausted, Bill had said with a shrug, and everyone had agreed. Eddie was finding it hard to sleep, though, with images of the leper running through his mind -

I’ll blow you for free

- And leaving him terrified and shaking. He thought back to being a kid, the same fear had kept him up at night then, too. He remembered talking to Richie about it as they read comics in the room above the Kaspbrak house garage, and Richie admitting he was having trouble sleeping, too. Kept seeing the werewolf, his own name written on It’s letterman jacket. 

He turned the bedside lamp on and picked up the phone without bothering to sanitize it even as his mind mother screamed at him. He looked at the directory and tried to remember which room was Richie’s. He was almost positive it was 207, one floor down and one over from his own, so he dialed the extension and waited. As the ringing sounded in his ear, someone knocked heavily on his door.

His heart seized up in his chest and he grabbed his aspirator from the side table and took a hit, even though he knew it was a placebo. 

“Who is it?”

“Eddie Kaspbrak?” A male voice from just outside the door said. “There’s an urgent message for you at the front desk.”

“Hello?” Richie’s sleepy voice said in his ear. He sighed in relief, not answering him yet.

“A message from who?” He asked loudly.

“What are you talking about – Eddie?” 

“A message from… Your wife,” the voice said, and Eddie froze.

“Uh, one second,” he said to the person on the other side of the door, then lowered his voice and spoke into the phone. “Rich, someone’s at my door saying I have a message from my wife.”

“You don’t have a wife,” Richie said, confused.

Eddie huffed. “Yeah, exactly!”

“Oh, fuck,” Richie said, and Eddie could hear shuffling on his end of the phone. Then, another noise, somehow both quiet and the loudest thing he’d ever heard. He watched with wide eyes as the lock on his door turned slowly until it clicked.

He opened his mouth to tell Richie whoever it was at his door had a key and to hurry the fuck up, but the line was beeping like Richie had already hung up. Slowly, he shoved the blankets off, putting his feet securely on the floor. He glanced around for something he could use to defend himself. A lamp? The phone? Why the fuck hadn’t he brought a knife or a gun to this clown fight?

The door slammed open, hitting the wall and revealing a man in a tattered jumpsuit. He had a knife in his hand.

Panic seized Eddie’s chest. The irrational part of his brain wanted to grab his aspirator for another puff but he knew it would be his last, so instead, without thinking it through, he charged forward as fast as he could, throwing his weight against the door as it bounced off the wall and back toward the man. 

Both men screamed. Eddie out of pure adrenaline and fear, some part of him wondering why the fuck he’d done that, and the other man because his foot and arm were smashed in between the door and the frame. Eddie kept his weight against the door knowing he didn’t have a lot of time; he didn’t weigh much, and this guy seemed particularly strong. He looked at the hand holding the knife, the small rivulets of blood dripping where the edge of the door had cut into the skin, and he grabbed a hold of it with both hands, trying to pry meaty fingers from the handle without cutting himself.

He didn’t manage it before the man pushed back with his own full body weight, throwing Eddie to the ground. He landed with a muted thud on his back and the man pushed into the room, spotting Eddie immediately. In the brief eye contact, Eddie realized with certain clarity that this man was Henry Bowers.

Henry Bowers, who had held him down and broken his arm with his bare hands. Henry Bowers, who had punched him in the nose more times than he could count. Henry Bowers, who had beaten Richie up again and again, who had mocked Bill’s stutter and Stan’s religion. Henry Bowers, who left even Beverly, the strongest of them, trembling. Henry Bowers, who had killed Mike’s dog. 

Eddie’s eyes flitted to the knife in his hand and a chill ran down his spine. Just yesterday he couldn't remember this man's name, but he remembered he used to fight back.

As a kid, he fought back against Henry Bowers, who somehow had the same knife he’d used to carved Ben open, the same knife with which he’d murdered his own father.

Henry lunged at Eddie, still on the floor. He kicked upward, one foot landing in the soft pudge of Henry’s stomach, the other his groin. Henry didn’t seem to notice, which left Eddie feeling terrified – what if this wasn’t Henry at all? What if this was something much, much worse?

“How ya doin’, little queer boy?” Henry asked, his voice hardly having changed at all. “Ready to get all cut up? Teach you to throw rocks!”

Eddie kept his foot wedged against Henry’s stomach, though the weight of him was causing a steady throb down his leg. Moving quickly, he pulled his other foot back and kicked again, this time aiming for the hand with the knife. Henry seemed taken off guard but he didn’t drop the knife, just leaned more of his weight onto Eddie’s leg. He cried out, giving in and planting his other foot against Henry’s stomach to hold him back. Henry didn’t seem to mind that he was leaning all his weight against Eddie’s feet, hovering over him like a ghost. 

“Not quite strong enough, are ya, fag?”

Eddie grimaced - the first time Henry called him that, he hadn't even known what a fag was. 

Henry brought the knife closer, almost able to reach Eddie’s face. With fear stronger than he’d felt in a long time thrumming through his veins, he grabbed Henry’s wrist with both hands, pushing him back. He let his fingernails dig into the place where the door had cut him, and Henry screamed, finally dropping the knife. Eddie glanced to his left and saw it, and with one hand still gripping into Henry’s wounded arm he reached over and grabbed it, plunging it upward into Henry’s chest just above where his feet held him up.

Henry’s eyes widened and Eddie sobbed as blood dripped onto his hand where he held the handle of the knife. He yanked it back out but Henry had become dead weight and his legs crumbled beneath it. He yelled, and then heard another voice.

“What the fuck!”

“Rich, help,” he said, hardly able to breathe under Henry’s weight. He was still wriggling, but Eddie kept a tight grip on the knife. Then Henry’s weight was being lifted a bit and Eddie helped, shoving until he landed on his back next to Eddie, blood seeping into the front of his shirt. Eddie stabbed again, but Henry caught the blow with his hand, and Eddie screamed as the blade sliced through the rough palm. Henry stared up at him, with a look that Eddie could almost describe as confused.

“Eds, Eds, what’s –“

“It’s Bowers,” he shouted, finally gathering the nerve to rip the knife out of Henry’s hand. Henry yelled and swung, smacking Eddie in the side and knocking the breath out of him. His uninjured hand came at him curled in a fist and managed to land on his eye. He stumbled backward a little on his knees, eyes closed against the blow, and without looking plunged the knife down again. Henry’s shrill scream and Richie’s Jesus fucking Christ oh my God oh my God let him know whatever he hit wasn't pretty but it wasn’t enough to be fatal.

A final time, he lifted the knife and opened his eyes. Henry’s face was covered in gushing blood, what was left of his eyeball hanging out of the socket. Eddie felt the Chinese food he’d eaten threaten to make a reappearance. From the corner of his eye he saw Henry’s arm begin to move and he flinched, not ready for another hit, but then Richie’s foot slammed the hand into the ground and Eddie plunged the knife back into Henry’s chest, over what he was pretty sure was his heart.

He pulled the knife out and threw it on the ground. It slid across the floor and stopped beneath the TV stand. Eddie pulled himself off of Henry, uncaring if he was still alive; if he was, Richie could deal with it. His own head spun, pain radiated down his legs, and his eye socket throbbed. He fell onto the bed with his eyes closed. For a moment he only heard the slight noise of movement from Richie, and then:

“Holy fuck, dude, you fucking killed him.”

Eddie let out a long breath of relief before saying, “don’t say it like that. It was self-defense.”

“Well obviously,” Richie agreed, and then threw up. The sound and smell made Eddie’s stomach turn again, and he leaned over the bed, grabbed the wastebasket, and lost his own dinner.

*  

They had migrated to Richie's room, after a brief talk with the rest of the losers to inform them of what happened. Everyone was appropriately horrified and offered to come sit with them for the rest of the night, but Eddie insisted he just wanted to sleep and he wanted to do it in a room without a dead body. Richie had offered his own, promising to keep quiet so Eddie could get some rest. 

Eddie had been unable to sleep, though. By the rigidness of Richie beside him, he was sure he wasn't the only one.

"So what's it like, being famous?" He said quietly into the darkness. He felt Richie jolt and he apologized with a laugh.

"No, it's fine, uh," Richie sighed. Eddie felt the comforter jostle like he was resituating himself. "I dunno, honestly. Kind of boring? I mean, don't get me wrong, in the early days I partied a lot. Slept around, got into things I shouldn't have. But… being clean and telling jokes you didn't even write? Kinda shit, not gonna lie."

"God, I fucking knew you didn't write your own shit," Eddie said. "I don't even know how I knew, but I'd watch all your stupid specials and like, be annoyed at myself because this guy is so obviously a fraud, why the fuck do I religiously watch everything he puts out?"

"Could have been my charming good looks," Richie joked, and Eddie felt his cheeks heat up. 

"Definitely not that," Eddie said with a hollow laugh. "Apparently somehow I just knew you were my best friend and I was pissed because I know you're so much funnier than the shit you say onstage."

"Oh," Richie said. Eddie squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't know how to fucking do this. How do you have conversations with people that aren't too much but don't feel like fucking small talk? Richie was his best friend once upon a time, would've been his best friend their whole lives if Derry hadn't fucked them up. 

But would they have been? Would they have been best friends if they'd grown up together? Navigated their early twenties together? Would he have dropped Richie the second he got into whatever shit he got into in LA? Would Richie have dropped him when he realized Eddie was fucking boring, with a desk job and a mother he couldn't escape? Would he have been just another person shoving him on dates with girls he didn't want to date? Another person asking why he wasn't married yet? Another person to think -

Your mom thinks you're gay.

He bit his lip. He couldn't think about that right now, not when their literal lives were on the line. He'd been putting off his sexuality crisis for years, it could wait another 24 hours.

Because that's what it was, and he knew it. He remembered the feelings from being a kid. He remembered the swooping sensation in his stomach, the blushing, the constant need to be the center of Richie's attention. He didn't think he knew what it was back then, but now? Now he knew what all those things meant. He knew what they meant when he felt them sitting next to Richie at dinner, and now, laying next to him in bed. 

But that was for a later date, if he even made it to a later date.

All Eddie could hear in the room was the whirr of the air conditioner, Richie's breathing right next to him, and his own heart pounding in his ears. He closed his eyes, willing himself to relax enough to even doze, but the quiet was broken when Richie cleared his throat.

"Yeah?" Eddie asked, when Richie didn't follow up with anymore sounds.

"I just - " He sighed. "You remember how we thought… When we were kids… That some of our power, or whatever, came from the lucky seven? None of us could have hurt It on our own but we could together, and we worked together and we all loved each other and looked out for each other."

"Yeah, I remember that."

"I don't feel like we're the lucky seven anymore," Richie admitted. Eddie didn't know what to say. "We're not… Together… the way we used to be. We were like one single unit back then. Even with Ben and Bev and Mike, we'd barely met them but they just fit with us. And now we just feel like…"

"Like seven adults who haven't spoken in over 20 years?" Eddie finished for him.

"Yeah." Richie's voice was sad. "We're not kids anymore, you know? And we don't know each other. Eds, I don't think we can even say we're friends anymore."

"That's not true," he argued, turning his head on his pillow to see the outline of Richie's face in the dark. He wasn't wearing his glasses but he was facing the ceiling. Eddie couldn't tell if his eyes were open or closed. "We all fell right back into old habits at dinner! It was like nothing's changed."

"But it has changed!" Richie said, his voice rising a little. Eddie jostled when Richie pushed himself up, sitting on the bed with his head in his hands. Eddie stared at him and chewed on his lip. "God, are you telling me you still act like that as an adult? I can just look at you and tell you're not somebody who trades sarcastic insults with anyone. And I don't still joke about fucking people's mothers and I don't constantly slip into shitty Voices all the time and I don't just fucking make fun of people like an asshole! But we both - we both regressed! Like, some shit happened when we got back together and all of a sudden we were both shitty little teenagers again! All of us! Bill's stutter came back, for fuck's sake! Ben's an awkward fucking mess around Bev, as though that guy isn't swimming in pussy right now -"

"That's fucking gross, Richie," Eddie muttered, pushing himself against the wall. 

"I'm just saying," Richie continued, "that we all get along as 13 year olds. Not as the people we are now."

"That's - " Eddie paused and blinked hard, surprised to find his eyes filling with tears. "It's just because that's how we're used to acting with each other. If we all spent time together again I bet we'd end up acting more like who we are now."

Richie scoffed. "Eddie, who you are now would hate who I am now."

"I wouldn't hate you." He reached out hesitantly, rested his hand on Richie's broad back. "Why do you think I'd hate you?"

"You - You hate getting dirty! And you dress like you're ninety, your hair is like, combed, and you've clearly never used a drug in your life. You -"

"I'm gonna stop you, dude." Eddie readjusted himself so he was sitting facing Richie, who's blue eyes were clearer than ever without his glasses on, even in the dark. "The actual regression I experienced was turning back into the person I was before that summer, before I found out about my asthma. The scared kid who carried a fanny pack full of disinfectant wipes became a scared adult who kept disinfectant wipes in his briefcase and Advil in his pocket right next to his aspirator. I have been alone for the last 20 years. And I've wasted so much time being the delicate child my mother wanted me to be. Who I was at 13 is more me than who I am at 40. And I think - I think that's why we all regressed the way we did. Because we were happy together, at 13, and I don't think any of us are happy now."

Richie stayed quiet.

"Well," Eddie amended, "except for Stan. But he acted like an adult as a kid, so I don't think that counts. Anyway, I don't give a shit about what you've done in your past. I lived with my mother until she died in my mid-thirties. I've never had -" He cut himself off, feeling his face heat up. "Never mind. The point is that we are still the same people we were at 13. The people we've been for the last 20 years? That wasn't really us. This is us. Lucky seven."

"Okay," Richie whispered. Eddie ignored the way he swallowed thickly. "I think I - I think I'm just scared. Just going over every single way we could fail. And even - even if you're right about us, how we're all still the same… There's so much about each other we don't know. We don't really know much about how we've each spent the last two decades. Or where we've worked, where we've lived, who we've fucked. It's like we're strangers…"

Eddie cleared his throat, willing his blush to disappear. "Maybe… Okay, this might sound stupid, so if you laugh afterward, I'm giving myself permission to hit you."

Richie snorted. "Alright, go ahead."

"We should find a way for all of us to know each other again. So we're not strangers. We should be the strongest version of the losers club when we go into the sewers, right? Losers club doesn't have secrets. Maybe we - you know, we bond with each other again. By telling each other stuff. You know?"

"Are you saying you want to sit in a circle and tell each other secrets?"

Eddie huffed. "Essentially, yes."

Richie laughed a little but held his hands up in surrender. "I'm not laughing at you! Just - I mean, why not? It couldn't hurt. Maybe we could re-do the blood pact, too?"

Eddie grimaced. "Yeah, Rich, let's physically weaken ourselves before we go fight a demon space alien. That's a super good idea."

"Well you don't have to be mean about it, dickhead."

Eddie laughed and shook his head. "How about, if we all live, we'll -"

"If we all live?! Don't say shit like that man!"

"I've already killed a man, Richie, I don't think death is completely off the table."

"Fuck, you killed a man." Richie sounded awed and a little scared.

"And you were very helpful, by the way." Eddie smirked.

"Listen, Eds, you've always been the brave one, we all know that, Mr. This is Battery Acid."

"I think I called It Fucknuts, too," Eddie recalled. He remembered spraying his aspirator at It, but even still he couldn't picture It clearly. "Do you remember what It looked like? It's real form, not any of the glamours."

Richie paused. "I don't - I don't think so? I just - I remember the eye in the sewers. When we all stood around like idiots and you screamed at us to step the fuck up. But other than that…"

Eddie remembered that, too. He'd lost his shoe in the eye, kicking it and screaming at the others to help him. It almost shocked him, to remember himself as being brave. But he had been. He'd attacked first, both the eye and… Whatever It became, in the end. His aspirator had really hurt It. 

"I wonder if we really saw It…" Eddie said. Another memory had hit him, one of Richie holding a baseball bat, of Bill trapped under Pennywise's arm. "I think - I think we hurt It while It was the clown. Maybe that's - maybe part of why It didn't die is because it was still using a glamour. It escaped before we hurt it enough to see the true form."

"That's - I mean, it was weird that Pennywise just bolted…"

"And Richie?" He reached out again, a little more confident, and touched Richie's arm. The contact made his chest clench. "You're brave, too. Don't you remember? Now I'm gonna have to kill this fucking clown."

Richie laughed quietly. "I hadn't remembered that until you said it."

Eddie hadn't remembered the battery acid or the eye until Richie brought them up, either. He wondered if it was because neither of them were the kind of people who looked for the good in themselves, and if there were other things they'd done that they could be proud of and just hadn't remembered yet. He hoped so. He hoped they still had some of that bravery left.

Richie flopped back down, head hitting the pillow as he released a loud sigh. Eddie followed suit, his face warming when he realized Richie had landed closer than he was before. They weren’t touching, but he could feel the heat from Richie’s arm only inches from him.

“We should probably try to sleep before… Well, we should try to sleep.” Richie’s voice had quieted. Eddie could barely hear him over the whirr of the air conditioner. “Goodnight.”

“Night, Rich,” he murmured. He hoped Richie couldn’t hear the fondness in his voice over the sound of the AC. He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes. He was asleep in minutes. 

*

Three short knocks on the door woke Eddie a few hours later. His left side was warm and he mindlessly moved into the heat before his muddled and tired mind remembered it was Richie next to him, still sleeping with breaths so loud it could almost be called a snore. Light poured in through the window so that Eddie could see Richie’s relaxed face, and staring down at the other man distracted him enough that he jolted at the sound of more knocks.

“Rich? Eddie? W-w-wake up, we’re meeting d-d-d-downstairs in twenty!” Bill’s voice drifted through the door and Eddie sighed, sitting up and shaking Richie’s shoulder.

“Mph,” Richie said, rolling away from Eddie.

“Wake up, didn’t you hear Bill?”

“Was ignoring him,” Richie answered bluntly. Eddie rolled his eyes and got up, heading toward the door just as Bill began to knock again.

“Hey,” he said, opening the door to find Bill’s fist mid-air. “We’ll be down soon, but can I talk to you first?”

Bill nodded, and Eddie closed the door behind them.

“Rich and I were talking last night and… Well, we were talking about how we don’t really feel like the lucky seven anymore. We’ve lost some of the connection we had as kids, and that connection is a huge part of why we survived last time. I just think – We think we should do something to bond again, like how we bonded at the Jane but… More. Maybe – Maybe we could go downstairs and just… share things about ourselves. You know, the kind of important things you share with your closest friends.”

Bill’s eyebrows had risen and Eddie bit his lip awkwardly. If Bill didn’t go for it, it wasn’t going to happen, and something in Eddie’s chest told him it needed to happen if they were going to survive.

Finally Bill shrugged. “I m-m-m-mean, it couldn’t hurt.”

“Right,” Eddie agreed. “So… If you could let everyone know what’s going on? We’ll meet you downstairs soon. I’m probably going to have to physically yank Richie out of bed, so…”

Bill nodded. “That’s fine. I’ll see y-y-you down there s-s-soon.”

Eddie thanked him and went back into the room, surprised to see the bed empty and the bathroom door closed. He sighed in relief that Richie had gotten himself up and went to his suitcase to pull out clean clothes. Richie finished in the restroom quickly and they switched, Eddie hurrying through his morning routine and dressing, anxious to get downstairs.

He stepped out of the bathroom without looking up, his pajamas folded in his hands, and after a few steps toward his suitcase he raised his head, confused by the silence.

He swallowed thickly at the sight of Richie standing in the middle of the room in just jeans, the hem of his boxers visible, the trail of hair leading down into his boxers all Eddie could see.

“Sorry,” he choked, looking away as quickly as he could force his head to move, feeling the heat light up his cheeks. He cursed himself in his head, power walking the rest of the way to his suitcase and focusing all his energy on making sure all his things were placed neatly and organized inside, trying not to think about Richie, half-naked, a few feet away.

He could hear Richie clear his throat behind him, but his voice still came out strained. “No worries.”

Eddie nodded without looking up. His hands were clenched into fists.

“Um,” Richie said awkwardly, when Eddie didn’t move. Eddie let out a breath and stood up, turning to face Richie, only to find himself again faced with a bare-chested Richie.

“What the fuck!”

“Sorry!” Richie said, not moving.

“Put your fucking shirt on!”

“Right.”

Richie bent over to reach into his suitcase and Eddie stared with his mouth open at the way the muscles in his arms moved, the way his back arched. He realized as he stared that there was no longer any attempts at denying his sexuality. This was it. He couldn’t look away as Richie pulled a shirt over his head. His cheeks were still hot and he waited for some joke from Richie, something like take a picture, it’ll last longer, or like what you see, Eds?, but Richie remained quiet.

“So,” Eddie said once Richie was fully dressed. “We’re meeting the others downstairs.”

“To share secrets?”

“Shut up,” Eddie said, walking out the door. They could hear the chatter of the others as they headed down stairs, and Eddie realized without surprise they were the last to make it down.

“Hey!” Beverly greeted. “Good thing you’re here, we were about to start without you.”

“Actually we already finished without you,” Stanley said, sly grin on his face. “Guess you guys don’t get to be part of the club anymore.”

"How dare you, Stanley," Richie said, skipping over to plop onto the floor next to Stan's spot on the couch. Beverly and Ben sat on the loveseat while Bill, Mike, and Stan took up the couch. There was a single armchair waiting, empty, between Richie's spot on the floor and Ben and Beverly, and Eddie took his spot. 

"We decided Bill will go first," Mike said, and Eddie nodded. It made sense in a way he couldn't explain. Of course Bill would go first. Bill would always go first.

"So," Bill started, then stopped. He cleared his throat and turned his face to the floor. Eddie bit his lip nervously, his heart beginning to beat faster as he waited for Bill's secret. "I wasn't s-sick. The day G-G-G-Georgie died. He - he wanted me to go out and p-p-p-play with him, but I didn't - I didn't want to. It wasn't that I didn't l-l-l-love him, or -"

"It wasn't your fault," Beverly said to him. "Nobody could've known what would happen."

Bill's face was red but he didn't cry. His eyes were resolute as he looked around at each of them. "I feel so g-g-guilty for what I d-d-did. And I feel g-g-g-guilty that I hadn't th-th-thought about G-Georgie in over 20 years."

"Pennywise wiped our memories, man, that's not -"

"I knew I had a l-l-little brother thatd-d- died. I knew his n-n-name, how old he w-was. And it was like… I d-d-didn't care. It d-d-didn't m-m-mean anything. I re-re-re-remembered him and it didn't m-mean anything."

"Fuck that," Richie said suddenly. "Seriously, Bill, fuck that shit. You didn't really remember Georgie, because if you did you would've spent the last 27 years feeling like you feel right now. We all know it. It's not your fault you didn't remember and it's not your fault he died."

"I know you probably don't believe that," Eddie added, "but it's true. None of it was your fault. And you're the one who led us to beat Pennywise the first time. You ended the cycle early, man. You saved lives."

Bill shook his head, still avoiding meeting anyone's eyes. "W-W-We all did that."

"Then maybe we should all get a pat on the back for it," Ben suggested. "We all did something that saved who knows how many lives. We should all - you know, give ourselves credit for it."

Eddie thought back to the night before, discussing all the things with Richie that he hadn't remembered doing. All the moments he was brave, strong, powerful. How he and Richie didn't remember them because they struggled to see their own strength.

"I agree," he said, nodding to Ben. "We all need to give ourselves more credit for what we did. Yeah, It came back, but we stopped it back then. The killings, they stopped. We were all brave as fuck, guys. And we can be brave as fuck again."

"I don't recall being brave as fuck," Stan said quietly. "I only remember being terrified out of my mind."

"That's what being brave is, though," Mike told him. "Doing something even when it scares you. And you're being brave right now, just by being here, Stanley. All of you are. We're all terrified but we're all here, and that, as Eddie so eloquently put it, is brave as fuck."

"Well said." Beverly smiled softly. "You should go next, Mike."

Mike looked surprised for a moment, eyes widening a bit, but he quickly nodded, shuffling in his seat. 

"Well," he started, looking around at each of them. "I guess you know I've kept up with each of you, but not - not quite the extent that I've kept up with you. I've read all of Bill's books and seen every movie adaptation. I've seen every television appearance Richie's ever made. I've read every article ever written about Ben. I've driven up to Bangor a few times, to one of those fancy department stores, just to see Bev's clothes in person. Couldn't afford to buy anything, but -"

The group paused as an uncomfortable undercurrent swept through the room. Eddie noticed he wasn't the only one who wouldn't meet Mike's eyes.

"Don't be weird about it," Mike said with a soft sigh. "It is what it is. And this - this tension, this discomfort… That's what Eddie's talking about. To be the Lucky Seven we have to push through what makes us uncomfortable. You guys can't walk on eggshells around me anytime finances come up. We can't walk on eggshells around each other at all. This is the point of this. We've got to share the hard shit, too."

Eddie didn't know what to say, so he kept his mouth shut. He looked up, though, and Mike was giving a comforting smile to them all. Eddie breathed in deeply and let it out slowly as Bill agreed with Mike, and the awkward tension began to dissipate.

"Anyway," Mike continued, "it's been hard to be the one to stay here. I won't lie, there were so many times over the years that I thought about calling one of you. And there were times over the years that I even resented you guys a little, for being able to leave. But this was what I was meant to do. This was my job. I accepted that, and I'm okay with it. I've made my peace with it."

"I'm sorry you had to stay here, Mike," Ben said. Mike just shrugged good-naturedly.

"Well, if we're going to be talking about the uncomfortable shit, maybe I should go next." Eddie raised his eyebrows at the bluntness in Bev's voice. She huffed a short laugh. "I mean - I mentioned leaving my husband at dinner but… There's so much more to it. He - Well. I'll start with - I have one very close friend. Her name's Kay, and I've known her a long time. And it's… it's funny, you know, when someone knows you, how they can see through your bullshit? Kay can see through my bullshit. But she never called me on it. Don't get me wrong, she told me to leave him for years, before we were ever even married, but she never… She had to have known, you know?"

Eddie swallowed thickly as Bev rambled, her voice catching a few times. His hands balled up into fists, a response to the anger that was slowly building inside his chest as Beverly spoke.

"But I'm glad she never brought it up because… I don't know how to talk about it, especially with someone who never met… Well, someone who never met my father. I didn't know how to talk about the shame I feel for running from my abusive father into the arms of an abusive husband. I don't know why I did it. I don't know why I stay."

Tears were dripping down her cheeks now, and Eddie had the urge to reach over and hold her hand, but Ben already had an arm around her shoulders and Stan was clutching her hand.

"Anyway, I - I left him. I had to… He didn't want me to. And part of me is… so fucking scared that I'm going to go right back to him after Derry."

"That's n-not going to h-h-happen, Bev," Bill said quickly, leaning closer to her to put a comforting hand on her knee. "We won't l-let you."

“It shouldn’t be like that. Isn’t it the same thing? Putting my wellbeing in the hands of yet another man? Trusting in you guys to keep me from going? It needs to be my own decision, and it needs to come from my own strength.” 

No one spoke for a moment. Eddie watched as Beverly wiped her tears with her free hand. Finally, Ben turned to face her and said, “we won’t make the decision for you, but no matter what you decide we’ll be there to support you. Obviously we all want you to be safe and not go back to him, but no one here is your keeper. We just love you and want the best for you. And if you leave you won’t be alone. We’ll all be there for you.”

The others murmured their agreements and Bev smiled through her tears, thanking them quietly.

"I'll go next," Stan offered, raising his hand a little. "I… Well, I guess I'm sort of Twitter famous? I've got a blue checkmark and everything."

"I'm sorry?" Richie asked, voice rising in pitch. "It took me two years to get a fucking checkmark and they gave one to you?!"

Stanley shrugged. "I had a commercial for my accounting business go viral."

No one said anything. Eddie stared blankly at Stan as though he'd grown a second head.

Stan huffed. "Patty and I made a commercial when I first started the company. We filmed it ourselves because we didn't have money to hire anyone and it was just - it was just me at my desk, and Patty standing next to me. And I'm just talking, you know, about why people should choose me as their accountant. But Patty apparently found it absolutely hilarious because she kept, like, laughing - snorting while I was talking. And in my head I'm thinking, there's no way we're going to use this, this is ridiculous, and I smile at the end - well, Patty says it's a grimace but what's the difference, really? - and Patty, completely unscripted, yells "call Uris Accounting for all your accounting needs!" and then I started laughing. Anyway, she posted it on Facebook without telling me and it went viral -"

"Holy fuck, I've seen that!" Richie yelled, throwing his hands up. "It's - there's a YouTube video, one of those compilations, called 'People Breaking and Laughing on Camera (Almost Entirely Richie Tozier Laughing at His Own Jokes)'! We're in the same compilation YouTube video!"

"You have the name of the video memorized?" Eddie asked. Richie laughed.

"That's terrible news," Stan said. Richie laughed harder. "Anyway, now the company's Twitter has thousands of followers who think my deadpan humor and random observations are hilarious. My actual secret is that I don't actually write any of it - Patty does. She's the funny one but she isn't a big fan of too much attention so people think it's me."

"Aw, it's okay, Stan, Richie doesn't write his jokes, either," Ben said with a grin. Eddie laughed, watching happily as Richie began to yell indignantly. 

It took a few minutes for the group to calm down. Eddie sat and soaked it in, trying to ignore the twisting in his gut that told him this lighthearted fun was going to end soon. That they may never get this feeling back again.

"Anyway," Stan said finally. "Patty's very funny. She calls my car The Sedanley."

"Aw," Bev cooed, grinning. "That's cute! You guys sound really happy together."

"We are," Stan agreed, his cheeks pink. "Anyway, who's next? Eddie?"

Eddie's stomach clenched and he bit his lip. He cleared his throat, finding a spot on the floor to stare at so he could avoid the eyes of his friends. This was his idea in the first place, he certainly couldn't back out now.

"Before I say anything, I just want to say I've never told anyone this, and it's… Well, it's quite embarrassing and I'd really appreciate you all not making fun of me."

"W-We'd never m-m-make fun of you," Bill assured him immediately. Eddie gave him an incredulous look. Bill laughed a little. "Okay, f-f-fair enough, we d-definitely would. B-B-But wew- won't! You can t-t-tell us."

"Yeah," Eddie muttered. He took a few deep breaths and opened his mouth. “I’ve never… you know, done it. Like…” His eyes darted around at each of them and his cheeks pinked. He lowered his voice to a whisper, “Sex.”

Stan laughed. “Clearly, if you feel like you have to whisper the word sex.”

“We promised no laughing! Nobody laughed at your stupid Sedanley!”

"Oh, honey," Bev said. "Why not? You could get any woman you wanted!"

Eddie didn't look up from the floor. His hands were balled up into nervous fists.

"Or man?" She continued. A question. 

Before Eddie could speak, Richie's voice broke the tense silence. “No! You aren’t allowed to come out!”

“I kn-kn-know you’re not about t-t-to be homophobic,” Bill interrupted.

“Like you can talk,” Richie answered, annoyed. “Have you ever written a character that wasn’t straight?” Bill tried to answer but began stammering worse than usual. “And I’m not being homophobic. But if Eddie comes out right now and steals my goddamn thunder then that would be biphobic. Because I’m bi. That was my secret. So. Now, Eddie, if there’s anything you’d like to say…”

“You’re the fucking worst,” Eddie told him. “And I don’t… I don’t know. I’ve never had feelings strong enough for anyone, man or woman, to ever do anything about it. I suppose I’ve found men attractive before, but never anyone that I knew or liked or – I suppose mostly celebrities, strangers on the subway, things like that. I never… I guess I haven’t met many people that have caught my interest.”

"Sounds like you need to lower your standards,” Stan said bluntly.

“Nah,” Ben said, smiling at Eddie. “I get what he means. I never really formed any connection with anyone either. Before you guys I was lonely, and after you guys I was lonely. I suppose I had been interested in someone when I was younger, but… I forgot about her. Maybe eventually you’ll remember someone, Eddie. Someone who caught your interest.”

Eddie finally glanced up, his eyes immediately finding Richie, who was staring resolutely at the floor. He chewed on his lip. Finally he looked over at Ben and said, “I think I will remember. Eventually.”

"Well," Richie said loudly, and Eddie jumped. Richie's cheeks were bright red and he shoved his glasses up his nose with his pointer finger. "Since I already spoiled my secret, I guess I don't have to go."

"We're very proud of you, Richie," Bev said with a soft smile. "Even though you ruined Eddie's moment."

"Sorry 'bout that, Eds," Richie said with a small shrug and a sheepish smile. "Couldn't let you steal my gay thunder."

Eddie furrowed his brows. "Didn't you just say you were bi?"

Richie waved him off. Eddie noticed his face was still flushed. He pushed his glasses up his nose again. Eddie clenched his hands into fists as he watched Richie fidget, knowing the other man was nervous but not being completely sure what he was nervous about. Eddie had said he would probably remember someone he had feelings for… Could Richie be figuring him out? Could Richie already know that Eddie had those feelings?

And now that he knew Richie was into men as well… Could he return those feelings?

"-but like I said earlier, to Eddie, I feel like I'm only just remembering the girl I loved…" Eddie realized he'd been ignoring Ben, who was obviously talking about Beverly. The two of them were still next to each other, but Eddie could sense some discomfort in Beverly's body language. He thought about how her entire life had revolved around men and felt a pang in his chest for her. She deserved a break.

"So, w-w-what do you th-th-think, Eddie?" Bill said. Eddie startled, tearing his eyes from where they'd rested on Bev. Ben had finished talking and Eddie was hit with a wave of guilt that he'd been too inside his own head to really listen. But he knew the gist of it, right? Ben loved Bev, Ben had been lonely as an adult. He was basically just repeating Eddie's life story, although probably without the virginity aspect. 

"I mean… I dunno. Do you guys feel closer?"

Bill shrugged helplessly. Eddie's heart sank. He didn't feel any different, either. 

"I think this was good," Richie said, stepping up beside Eddie and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "At the very least we're better off than we were before. It was like a trust exercise, you know? It - it worked."

Eddie looked up at him. He was giving Eddie what was probably supposed to be a reassuring look, but from the angle Eddie was at, looked more like a grimace. Eddie laughed a little.

"W-Well, alright th-th-then," Bill said, heading toward the front door of the Inn. "Let's g-g-go."

*

By the time they made it to the small door that led to It's lair, Eddie could barely breathe. Nothing had happened the entire way. Why had nothing happened? Where was It?

"Well…" Richie said with a shrug. "No news is good news, right?"

"I don't think that applies here," Stan said, his voice trembling.

"Are we ready, then?" Mike asked. Eddie gripped his aspirator and shot it into his mouth. The others nodded grimly. Mike pushed the door open, and they went inside.

Amidst the chaos - It turning into a giant spider with Pennywise's face, chasing them down tunnels that lead to nothing good, three doors with no right answer - Eddie had clutched his aspirator in his hand. He hadn't thought about it, but now, as he watched Richie's body float into the air, eyes white, he thought that perhaps he'd known all along. He remembered spraying the aspirator into the giant eye, remembered - this is battery acid, fucknuts! - and he stepped forward.

He didn't utter a sound as he sprayed the aspirator at It, watching as the mist hit one of the spider legs. It's head swung around to face Eddie, so close Eddie could smell It's rancid breath.

"Battery acid," he said coolly, before shooting off the aspirator again. He was close enough now that the mist sank into one of It's eyes. Pennywise's voice bellowed around the cavern, screaming in pain, and Eddie sprayed again, this time aiming for It's open mouth. Just as his finger pressed down, just as the HydrOx filled It's mouth, Eddie was slammed into from the side. He lost his grip on the aspirator and landed hard on the ground, but his eyes didn't leave the spider. He watched as the mouth, filled with razor-sharp teeth, clamped down where his arm had just been. 

"You're a fucking idiot, Kaspbrak," Stan said, helping Eddie up.

"Holy shit," Eddie said, breathing heavily and looking at Stan, who was shaking. "You saved my life."

"Yeah, well," Stan said. Then, more quietly, so low that Eddie didn't think he was supposed to hear it, he said, "You saved mine first."

"We gotta save Richie," Eddie said, as It's yell pierced the air again. It was rounding on Mike and Ben on the other side of the cavern, and Richie still floated in mid-air.

"Hey!" Stan screamed, his voice echoing in the lair. Eddie's eyes widened and he grabbed Stan's arm. "You're not real, clowns are human and don’t have spider legs, either you’re a human or a spider, make up your mind!"

Eddie watched in horrified shock as It began to shrink, spider legs pulling in toward its body. The others began to join in, yelling what seemed like nonsense to Eddie, who suddenly could only focus on Richie, collapsing to the floor.

He rushed to Richie's body, lying on the ground, and began to shake him.

"Clown! Clown! Clown!"

"Rich, wake up, man," he said, patting Richie's cheek. Richie groaned. "Yeah, hey, buddy, open your eyes!"

"Eds, wha-" His eyes widened as he took in Eddie's form. He grabbed tightly onto Eddie's right arm, staring at it in wonder. "Fuck, you're -"

"Come help us!" Ben's voice carried over to them. Eddie looked over to where their friends stood in a semi circle around It, now shriveled and small and not a clown at all. Eddie helped Richie to his feet and, feeling more powerful than he ever had in his life, squeezed It's heart until It was no more.

Richie saw Stan kill himself and Eddie losing his arm and dying in the deadlights and when they’re out of the house he grabs Stan’s arms and looks at his wrists angrily and Stan realizes what it means and Richie asks “Why didn’t you do it?”

 “First I didn’t remember… I was in the bathtub… I was… Ready. I could only remember promising Bill, the blood oath… But then I remembered Beverly saying she saw us all as adults… And I remembered that I had, too, when I was in the deadlights, and that Eddie was going to die. I knew – Somehow I just knew that if I killed myself Eddie would die, and if I came back he wouldn’t. I could – I could end my own life, but I couldn’t bring myself to end Eddie’s. So I came back.”

not even the author knows what happens next :-)

[joshslater]

Russian Dolt

Another Hank collab. Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I was just about ready to give up and head back to the hotel. I’ve spent 16 years being a sales representative across Southeast Asia, and I know all the regional variations on the prostitutes fairly well. Here in Manila, a Russian girl would go for at least twice the price of a local. A Malay girl would go for a discount. But too much of the same old thing grows boring, and that’s why I was out in the bars tonight instead of just calling an escort to the hotel for a “massage”.

I wasn’t sure what I was after, to be honest, which was part of the problem. Maybe a threesome? A gymnastics girl doing tricks for me – and on me? I’ve heard that in some countries the Olympic teams even earn some side money in brothels. I’ve never found it myself, but that would be something different at least. So far nothing I had found had really turned my crank. I was polishing off a mediocre whiskey when I was approached at the bar by the man.

The guy was younger than me, maybe 25, and looked very Russian. Buzzed hair, tank top, tight jeans, flip flops, cheap tats and the don’t give a fuck attitude that their entire nation has adopted since they lost the Cold War. He smelled of smoke and cheap cologne. He looked to be in great shape. I didn’t want anything to do with him.

“I overheard you speaking of freak sex, yes?”

The accent was heavily Russian as well. This could be exactly what I was after, but it could also end up with me robbed and dead in a ditch.

“What’s it to you?”

“We have proposal. Have you had sex as not you?”

Despite the hot and wet climate, I could feel a wall of heat radiating on my other side as one real furnace of a man stepped closer to me. I turned my head and looked right into a black tank top. It was filled with a huge pile of meat. I looked up at his face and he made a silent nod. Perhaps not as stereotypically Russian, but still very much old Soviet stock, and presumably lots of old Soviet hormones, not all his. His muscles seemed to have muscles.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “Sex as not me?”

“We have a thing that lets you do sex as if someone else. Understand? You could be me?”

“I could be you? Who would you be?”

“I would be you, for short time. Very short. Then you as me do any things, dangerous things. Nasty things. But safe for you. When finished, you are you and I am I.”

I was thinking really hard on how this scam worked. Was this just going to trick me out of 5000 pesos, or was the end goal to take me for all I was worth? The setup was intriguing. Performing sex as someone else… I’d certainly never tried that before. I didn’t want to let fear hold me back, in part because I knew, loathe as I’d be to admit it, that it often did.

“What kind of nasty things?” I finally answered.

“Many different things. You chose. How about fucked by wrestler?”

He gestured towards the pillar of meat on my other side. That surprised me. Back home where I grew up there was a lot of "God hates fags" and crude gay jokes, but I always thought it was a bit obsessive. It's a free country so they can do whatever they want, as long as they keep me out of it. I’d never had sex with a man before, obviously. Never even considered it. I was about to protest how I wasn’t a fag, when a small little voice at the back of my head pointedly said “Damn straight, but apparently he is one.” Well, if I was going to be someone else, then why not go for something truly wild and different? Something I would never put my own body through.

“How does it work? How do we do it?”

“We put your body somewhere safe. To keep your mind off it. Then we swap. When you are done, we swap again. 3000 pesos per hour.”

Twenty minutes later, if even that, the three of us were standing in my hotel room. The lobby was deserted, save for the night manager who gave us a disapproving look on our way to the elevator. On the way up, I made a quick estimate of what everything I brought was worth. I only had my carry on, some clothes, my laptop, cell phone and travel wallet. If I was completely cleared out by these guys, I could stay an extra day, have the cards blocked and reissued, use insurance to buy replacements, and be on my way. Not much to lose, really.

The big hunk of meat was Boris, because of course he’d be a Boris. He didn’t speak any English. The sleazy guy in the wifebeater was Mikhail, and he was now explaining the details of how he proposed we do this. He had a handcuff with a really long chain, so I could be cuffed to the bathroom water pipe and still make it to the bed. This would allow Mikhail, in my body, to stay securely in the room, watch TV, use the bathroom and such and such while I was out in his body. I was full of doubt. Step one really can’t be that I chain myself with handcuffs to the bathroom pipes? Mikhail saw my hesitation without me saying anything.

“You want to see first, yes?”

“Please.”

From his pocket he pulled out two thumb rings. They were plain iron rings with no inlays, but with engraved symbols running around them, which gave them a brutish look. He gave me one.

“Sit down. Put it on, right hand.”

I did as I was told, and nothing happened. He sat down next to me on the bed and unceremoniously slipped on his ring. Instantly, everything shifted a few feet to the side, and I suddenly looked out of his eyes instead of mine. It worked. It felt amazing.

His body was in such great shape. I ran my hand over the buzz cut stubble on my head, feeling the prickliness of it against my palm. Then, swiftly, just as quickly as I had jumped into his body, I was back in mine, looking at my hand. Mikhail had just removed the ring.

“You can see it works. You want to continue, yes?”

I sure did. I could scarcely believe this technology was legit. Perhaps it was magic. I know, magic isn't real, but then neither are body swaps. I put the ring back on, and wow, the rush. I was back in Mikhail’s body.

Mikhail patted me and got up. It was so trippy to see my body moving next to me. He quickly locked the handcuff to to his left wrist and then stepped into the bathroom to attach the other end of the cuff. He then stepped out again and gave me the key.

“Here, keep this safe. My suggestion would be to put it in the room safe, so you don’t lose it in the excitement.”

To my shock, he was talking fluent English now, without any accent.

“I will do,” I answered, immediately laughing a dumb Russian laugh. Wow, how stupid my own voice sounded. I sounded just like Mikhail in voice, accent and whacked English.

I immediately realized that whatever these rings did wasn't simply placing my brain inside Mikhail's body. That would just change the voice. But to also changed my accent and even words and grammar, which hinted at something more complex. It somehow both frightened and excited me, and I felt a stir in my pants. I wondered what else would be different, what else this body I now inhabited might be made of.

I put the key and my wallet in the safe, and locked it with 7478. Same code as my old phone, based on the Boeing 747-8 plane. As an international businessman I've had many trips on those. Boris started moving and ushered me out of the room, almost impatiently. As the room door clicked shut, I realized that I’m standing outside of my room with no key, no ID, a different body, and next to this oversized hunk of meat. I reminded myself that I can, at any moment, just remove the ring and appear back in the room. I could then open the safe, grab the key, unlock the shackles on my own body, and pretend like nothing had happened. As long as I have my hand free to remove the ring, there is no need for a safe word tonight. I chuckled with Mikhail’s voice at my own internal pun.

The feeling was amazing, getting accustomed to the body. I could tell my first thought was spot on: this bod was in great shape. It was lithe, almost sprightly compared to where I was at normally. Toned and packed with just enough firm muscle to have a bit of a swagger, it seemed. As we strode out of the hotel and into one of the waiting taxis, I ran a hand through my buzzed hair once more, feeling the spike of the flat cut against my palm. I tugged a little and played with the studs in my ear lobes.

Is this how fags felt, I wondered? Are these sort of bodies part of where their pride and sex drive comes from? I hadn’t given any thought before to the idea that men who are attracted to men might find their own bodies hot, too. I looked down at my forearms, noticing the fit power in them, the veins lightly popping. It did look good to me. I could feel queer thoughts, but I wasn’t ashamed or repulsed by them. This wasn’t me, but I could tell it could be very hot to play the gay. And looking at my arms, I felt an erotic buzz. I was starting plump up a little. I was legitimately turned on.

“In Soviet Russia, you not find faggot. Faggot find you!” I said out loud, laughing, thinking that I sounded even dumber than Mikhail did in this voice. One of my favorite jokes finally had a body worthy of it. Both Boris and the driver ignored me.

I suppose Russians didn’t usually make such a classic Russian joke, did they? Or did they? This really was the most out-of-body experience I’ve ever had, quite literally. Talk about risk versus reward payoff. I had to do it again.

“In Soviet Russia, big dick find you!” I found myself slurring, stupidly, and just hearing the ridiculous accent come out of Mikhail’s mouth, a mouth that was mine for the time being, made me snort with laughter again. I didn’t expect that the first few things I’d be doing in this body would be laughing my ass off. It was truly surreal. But it was hilarious, I mean, wow. Maybe it was my way of trying to find my sea legs after such radical change.

We arrived at a different hotel only 15 minutes away from mine, but looking at it they couldn't be further apart. If Mikhail and Boris looked seedy in the lobby of my hotel, they would appear posh in this neighborhood. I was still not used to this body, and wobbled a bit getting out of the taxi. Boris stopped and waited by the hotel entrance while I made a few jumps to test that everything is fine.

“Boris,” I say, my voice reminding me of some squirrel and moose thing – Natasha – Rocky and Bullwinkle – I can’t get over this accent –

“Boris, where is room?”

I find that I almost have a feel for the way the Russkies talk, I think, and that if I just roll with it, I’ll be able to work with it almost effortlessly. Boris started leading me into the hotel and down a hall. He stopped by a door and opened it, with a real key. Not one of those card reader doors. He entered the room and I followed.

First thing I did was to swagger on over to the mirror. I didn't get a good look while in my room before Boris ushered me out. Yeah, I pretty much looked amazing. This body, or whatever sense of sexual desire was in this bod, recognizes male beauty in a way that wasn’t apparent to me at all as a straight guy. This body is fit, it is toned, it is more tanned than I would have expected from a Russian guy. He must have been in The Philippines for a while now, I figured. The tats, which I thought looked like cheap pieces of shit from a budget tattoo parlor before, looked masculine, tough, and sleazy.

I looked like the mirror image of a guy who lived to fuck, drink, smoke and party, I thought- And I could feel that I was craving a smoke, too. But man, that mirror… I was boned, totally erect over a man for the first time in my life, even if it just was myself, in a way.

Mikhail had been wearing that rich brand of underwear to try to act like he was worth something, I suppose. What’s the name of it? I can’t even remember, not being an underwear type myself. To me, despite whatever he must have spent, the briefs and tats all just made him look cheap and trashy. But I liked it. It’d be perfect for tonight. I fully intended to take advantage of it all, go out for a while, have fun and bring someone back tonight. If things stayed chill, I was ready to fuck. Boris looked bored, and wasn’t even really watching me, so I was guessing things were cool.

I recalled Mikhail had blurted something out earlier about “Fuck Wrestler,” which I presumed meant Boris. And I had been thinking maybe I’d do that, initially, not really being sure what I’d do. But now that I was attracted to men, apparently, I really just didn’t think Boris was my type. Or this body’s type. Or whatever. He didn’t seem to be into me, either. I like the look of Mikhail’s body for sure, and it’s almost mesmerizing to me. Breaking away from the mirror is a bit of a challenge, I notice, as I put my tank top back on. Maybe the old line about Narcissus isn’t so far from the truth after all.

“Boris, I want to go to bar,” I said. “Gay bar. You know where?” “да,” the oaf answered.

I understood it as "Yes", of course, but I understood it in a fluid way. Could I speak it, too?

“Вы можете общаться со мной на русском языке?” I blurted to see if he could understand me. My own words sound like something an insect would come up with. They buzzed. They sounded slushy, and they sounded like shit. I really don’t know how folks can speak such an ugly language, how anything could evolve in such a strange way.

“да.” he said again, without any emotion.

There’s some male jewelry on the counter, I noticed as I started to turn out the lights. Dog tags, a pendant. I picked them up and put em on. Looks good- Wonder if Mikhail walked around with that, normally. The whole walk to the bar, I couldn’t help but to act cocky, shifting my posture, feeling playful with this body. Boris, as I found out by trying to chat him up, despite him being a man of few words, did have a pack of cigarettes to help me out with. Soon I’m bumming a couple off of him, and as soon as I could get away with it outside of the lobby, I light up.

The guys walking around Manila that we passed – some are kind of, I don’t know how to put it…not ugly, but not really attractive. I wasn’t really drawn to the girls, I noticed, but not the guys either, all that much. Some of them caught my eye a little more than others. I hoped when we got to the bar that I would find one of the Russians I was expecting to be there. Was that what my genes were hunting for, or was that what I just was expecting to find? A Russian? Would I be attracted to a German, a Frenchman or an American if I ran into any? Good luck picking one up with this voice, I thought to myself. But this is a sexy body. I bet I could pick up a lot of different kinds of guys. Gays aren’t really known for being particular, I thought. At least they’re known to do a lot of depraved shit with anyone. They aren’t like women. They have it easy, so I should too.

The thought of trying to hit on a guy, though I had no clue how to do it, seemed amusing. I felt a tinge of nervousness, but then I remembered this isn’t my real body. I could say anything. There’s a wallet in these jeans and I flipped through it. Was that arranged? There’s enough cash in there, 400 pesos, to drink for a while depending on the prices. I wonder if Boris would loan me more, but how smashed would I really gonna get? It should be more than enough.

Soon we were in the bar. I eyed the field. I spotted my prey almost instantly. Dark beard, full, thick. Bomber sunglasses tank top, twists of tribal tattoo down one arm. I wondered what sort of guy wears glasses in a bar, and I was thinking, fag guys do. And that’s you too, fag boy, so hop to it. And it was alluring, even as I knew it was done for affect. I didn’t care. He was hot.

I didn’t sit down by him right away, though. Boris and I took a spot at the corner, by the entrance. Soon enough, though, I wink at him on his way to take a piss. Why not? Nothing to lose, man.

Once he was out of sight Boris stood up, and surprised I asked him if he was going to leave. I kind of expected he would stick around to make sure I didn't do anything too stupid with Mikhail's body. He smiled for the first time, patted me too hard in the back, responded "Ты справишься" and left. And with that I was on my own.

Well, that’s all fine with me, because I was worried these guys might think I already scored Boris or something. Didn’t want that crimping my game. I was totally comfortable on my own, too. Fuck, it’s not my body. Still can’t get over how liberating it was to just know it.

The night got rolling, more folks were trickling into the club, and Bomber Glasses and I were talking, finally. He is German, but does speak some English. This body did the work for me, I thought. He was into me. I couldn’t help but be fixated at his beard, man, and the chest hair that foofed out of the top of his tank. He has a dog tag of his own around his neck. It’s all so sleazy and fucked up. It’s weird, knowing that what once would have repulsed now allured.

Soon he was buying me a drink. I wondered if I was attracted to powerful guys, as this was the first one who caught my eye out of the bunch, not that there were many to choose from. He was at least a good three inches taller than me. Darker complexion. Thicker hair, and of course that beard. That chest. Mine’s got just a little fuzz. I started to wonder if Russians were a hairy people compared to Germans. I didn’t think they really were, but some definitely are. The train of thoughts caught me by surprise. I’ve never before considered how hairy guys are. Must be the fag in me for sure. Wondered what mixing with this body for the night is gonna do to my mind, long-term. You know, like what if it’s like the long-term effects of a powerful dose of shrooms? That might not be good, depending. It felt OK in the trial swap we did earlier, so clearly it reverts without any seeming issues, but then that was just after a few seconds.

No time to be nervous, though. I wanted to get my money’s worth.

Now the guy’s looking at me, intensely, right in the eyes over drinks, and I was feeling like maybe the gays have a point about wanting their public display of affection. I was feeling like if this guy wanted to fuck out in the streets of Manila with me, I’d do it, despite the filth and chaos. By the time he was kissing me, right in the bar, and I was feeling his thick beard press into my jaw, and we’re speaking our stupid, malformed English to each other, all I could think about was the hard cock that might end up in my ass tonight if this kept going well. I wantws this guy to come back to the hotel with me.

“You and I,” I said, between kisses. “Go wild, with sex, you make sex with me. Hot as sex,” I went, fascinated by the chest hair he was got spilling out of the neckline, rubbing it with my fingers, playing with it, all as best as I could. He was trying to slobber on my earlobe stud and probe my tongue with his ear. We’re making a scene in the bar. I couldn’t care less. He stripped my shirt off right then and there in the bar so he could see my chest. He was playing with my pecs, rubbing the muscle, slapping my firm belly, my firm biceps. “Flex for me,” he commands. I've never done that in my life before, and don't really know how, but somehow I manage to make some tight abs for him. He is lost in admiration, I could see.

We walked out the backdoor of the club, his fingers in the back pocket of one of my jeans, not just kinda steering me, as I’m rather sloshed, but claiming me. Showing who is the top. He squeezed an ass cheek through the denim, and I loved it. He leaned in for another kiss. It’s a steamy night. I needed a smoke, so I lit one up, buzzed up, feeling dreamy as hell, wondering what "nasty things” would actually going to be like. A cock up my ass? I could take one, fuck if I care. Sounded glorious right then. I wondered if I could feel that desire in my ass that they supposedly get? Not yet, I thought, searching my thoughts to see if I felt anything, and decided that maybe it’s because I haven’t tried it, yet. I wanted to try it. This German guy, a man, had me feeling like a creature of beauty. I felt beautiful in a way no woman had ever made me feel before.

I can scarcely remember the walk back to the hotel, for all the alcohol, hormones and groping. I remember wanting to be rather cautious the whole while. Manila is just loaded with chaos, deep pits and potholes you can step into, nothing in the way of sidewalks, not to mention motobikes and jeepneys. The hotel was much too close to bother with a cab.

I remember thinking that the longer I stayed in this body, the more risk I was taking, but I’d come this far tonight and intended to finish it. We didn’t set a time limit. “When you are done” was the deal. That made sense, as they got paid by the hour. They’d want to give me time to fuck until I’m sick of it, presumably by dawn at the latest, and I would obviously want my body back. This set of jeans didn’t even come with ID, and most of my few bucks had already been spent at the bar.

As for the sex, this guy was experienced. I figured as much, but found it out fast once we were in the bedroom together. I mean, I had barely latched the door behind me when he really flaunted his power, flipping me right around, pressing my back up against the door, passionately taking my jaw in his big hands and kissing me, licking me, tenderly and firmly, all at the same time. It’s hard to describe. He was even licking up my neck in broad strokes like I’m a fruit that’s ripe on the vine. It was hot. I suppose I must be a fruit, at least for tonight, haha. I could smell the alcohol on his breath, on my breath. I wanted to hear my dumb, hot, sexy Russian voice again. I was fumbling to get him out of his tank, which should have been an easy move, but I was too drunk.

“Chest, man,” I said. “You hairy, man. You are hairy. It’s hot.” I sounded like an idiot, I know, but it’s hot to hear my voice, too, my slurring, Russian voice.

”Yeah, boy,” he went, feeling up my pecs. I liked being called boy by this guy. Made me feel young, sexy, which I am. And I knew it.

He was practically ripping me out of my briefs and threw me on the bed. He got me naked, and he has got coke. It’s not my body, I think. I knew what to do, believe it or not. I've been to the bars around Wall street and seen what happens in the men's room. So I snorted up a line off the glass counter, walked over, naked, lit up a cigarette right in the room. Didn’t see any non-smoking signs, at least. This isn't the kind of hotel that bothers with smoke detectors. He slapped me on the ass and I couldn’t believe this was me, just hanging out casually, naked with a guy who’s occasionally slobbering all over my lower jaw.

I snorted another line. I felt amped, like coffee, only crazier. I took more at once. With a cross-fade like this, I know it’s more dangerous. Not my body, not my problem.

He was wrestling me down. I loved the feel of my muscles pushing back against his, and I loved trying to toss him, to pin him down, but he was stronger. We wrestled a lot that night, playful. I was so drunk it didn’t really hurt even when he threw me to the floor and body slammed me. It’s just fucking fun, don’t know how to put it, that state when you’ve got adrenaline and passion and lust and a few drugs pumping through your veins.

Man, his cock was a thick one. At one point I remember him shoving his hand in my ass, licking and slobbering all up in my crack, and I’m just on hands and knees, drooling, playing with my own dick as it flopped around and dangled down, making slimy fish line circles of pre-cum in the carpet. Although most dicks in the world are uncut, it somehow felt wrong  that my dick now was one of them. Like peeing with boxers on. I was on my haunches, and he was fucking the living shit out of me. It hurt and I yelped out, but guy knew what he was doing, I told myself.

At one point, I half cum, forcing myself to hold it back, not wanting the experience to end so soon. “Try,” I said to him, stopping, getting up off my knees. “Try not to cum,” I said. I had pulled back, hard, using my groin muscles to stop it so I could save my load. A minute later I was good to go again. He put a cock ring on me, telling me that will shut the dick up. I don't know if he brought it or if he found it in the room. Everything was a blur. “You are my pet now”, he told me. He was pushing me down, going for my armpits, slobbering and licking all over them. I had no idea men did that. I was shocked, but it felt great.

There were other surprises. I didn’t expect to be gagging on his thick cock, or expect that he’d seemed to want to pleasure in making me choke on it. But I sure as hell did choke on it. “Spit on it,” he ordered, so I did. “Lick,” he said, so I did, licking my own spit on his cock. I was slobbering up his cock as much as I could with my tongue, thinking that must be what he wanted. It felt good to do. I mean, what an iron rod, what a maypole. This was better than eating pussy, I thought, for sure. I wondered if I’d feel that way tomorrow, realizing I wouldn’t, so I’d better make the most of it now. This would have just seemed sick to me yesterday.

“Fuck me, fuck hard, fuck my ass,” I said to him. My ass had almost started to throb after getting fucked for a while, and it was starting to feel almost empty when it wasn’t getting fucked. Crazy but true, like I wanted him in there. I wondered if this was the prostrate being activated. I could feel it, almost like a heartbeat or something, inside my ass. “Put it in,” I said, wanting him to fuck me more, wanting to understand these sensations better. My ass was sore and yet it just felt so good. Fuck the pain away, and why not?

We took a breather and it was hard to even keep my hands off him for a little while. I wanted to at least massage his shoulders, wrap my arms around him, stroke his legs. If I didn’t have a life of my own, a successful, straight life, I could almost love this guy. The feelings were just so intense, drunk as I was. Probably the alcohol was causing the feelings, but did it matter? He was so beautiful to me. He made me feel sexy. We knew what to do with each other, even as new and awkward as I surely was. The dumb Russian voice Mikhail had was awkward, so fuck if it would matter if my technique was, too. This was all for my excitement, not for the sake of the performance, I remembered.

How long did we fuck? It must have been hours. Time passes at such strange rates when you’ve been partying. I remember my cock being sore, the skin rubbed raw, the thing just aching from the weight of the cock ring, swollen up, but not wanting to stop. I wasn’t sure if I could even get the ring off at this point, drunk as I was. Fuck the pain. “Harder,” I grunted at one part. “Fuck me harder. Deutschland!” I shouted, playful, in lust, this German sex king… my own command sounded like a woof. I really was his pet. But he was also mine.

I didn’t just pass out, I blacked out. I blacked out hard.

I was utterly confused when I woke up in a hotel bed, but then memories started trickle in. The body swap. I clearly was still in Mikhail’s body, I knew, because I could feel it. I felt sore. Wait, why was I still in Mikhail’s body? Looking around I could see I was in the bed in his shitty hotel room, no German to be found. I got up while the whole body was screaming in agony. The bed sheets were pretty much ruined with semen and other fluids. What a mess. My head throbbed with a hangover worse than I have ever experienced before. I stumbled over to the mirror.

Young, muscled, and well-hung were the bright side of what I saw. Everything else I saw in the mirror disgusted me, even more now than when I swapped into it yesterday. I was naked except for the thumb ring and a cock ring. The dick and balls looked bruised, a dangerously purple color. I tentatively touched the dick and pleasure tinged pain shot through my body. It was swollen and had a dull ache, but a small part of me even wanted to play with this dick some more, as I was still horny as fuck. I didn't remember cumming. I didn't even dare to think about the agony it would be to remove that cock ring. I needed to recoup.

I knew Boris and Mikhail were basically showboating a lot of this from the get-go, but after all that, I was really tired of this immersive experience shit. I didn’t know where the German went. I didn’t know if he even kissed me goodbye, and I tell myself it doesn’t matter. This was the wildest trip I’ve ever been on, and definitely worth it. But I didn’t want to deal with this body. I didn’t want to be a fag any longer. I reached to remove the thumb ring when a sudden fear came over me, like I needed to think this through. I paused.

When I remove the ring, where would I end up? Strapped to a cross in a BDSM dungeon? In a Filipino jail? Who knew what sort of Willy Wonka arrangement these guys had in store for me? Hopefully this is just part of the game, or it’s something else that I’m not thinking of. I was trying not to panic. I was not feeling amused anymore. I just wanted out.

I was hungry, thirsty, sore, emotionally drained, horny, and I had a godawful craving for a smoke. Whatever they’ve done to my real body, it couldn’t be any worse than this.

I removed the ring.

Nothing happened.

I screamed. I punched the wall. I screamed ‘fuuuuuuck!’ until I was sobbing on the filthy bed. I was reduced to a crying mess, not surprisingly.

This is my body now. A trashy fag’s body, with an unrelenting sex drive, a smoking habit, a drinking habit, and I no doubt more addictions waiting to be discovered. No surprise he was eager to ditch it. I'm sure my hotel room was cleared out by now, the credit cards emptied to the limit. What would I do with the stuff there anyway? Clothes that doesn't fit and a passport I can't use. This is who I am now, and there is no way to even begin to explain it to anyone, without seeming like a madman.

I really needed a smoke.