#and Eddie is an indulgent mother fucker when it comes to people he loves

[storygremlin]

Dear everyone who assumes Eddie’s horniness for clipboard Buck is a sub thing:

have you considered it’s actually a ‘You’re cute when you’re being a brat’ thing?

Like, it’s so indulgent, Eddie just wants to tell him he’s doing such a good job, get him all flustered with teasing promises and praise, slip that clipboard out of his grasp, and then unwind him until Buck is putty beneath his hands

Eddie is so horny for how obsessively Buck cares about stuff, he literally acts like it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. Just absolutely insane, the both of them.

[clairecrive]

“Little girl”- Alfie Solomons x oc daughter [Requested]

Here is a little Alfie action, as requested from a girl on Wattpad. I love Alfie and I love imaging him in a domestic situation with kids. I hope you like this, can’t wait to know what you think about it!

Tag list: @mollybegger-blog​, @br0ck-eddie​, @deaflikehawkeye​, @evelynshelby​, @fandom–0verdose​, @shadow-of-wonder​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​ (let me know if you wanna be added)

Alfred Solomons.

His name alone was enough to make grown-ass men shiver in fear. Whenever he walked into a room, everyone unconsciously moved to the side to let him pass. With just a look he was able to convey terror and make people shit in their pants. Whatever he said, goes. That was how things went in Camden or everywhere where people were aware of he was and what he was capable of. His reputation preceded him. He had grown quite used to it, he liked being the boss.

What he was not accustomed to was dealing with a fifteen years old young girl that had inherited stubbornness, sheer force of will and determination from him. She was a force to be reckoned with, he knew that much and was already wishing good luck to whoever will stand in her way. Of course, she didn’t fear him. Not one inch of fear was linked to his name when it came to her. Sure, she was aware of the fact that her father wouldn’t hesitate to punish her and locked her in their house if needed but she also knew that he was absolutely smitten with her and most of the time, he allowed her to have her way.

Countless were the fights that her parents had for this reason. Her mother tried to give her rules and make her follow them, but of course, if there was anything that her father had taught her was that rules were meant to be broken. It was a lost cause really, but her mother, just as stubborn and strong-headed as her husband, wasn’t too keen on letting this go. There were things on which she didn’t compromise. At the same time, she had been a young girl once too and knew the desire for freedom that comes with that age. So this was that rare situation in which her father was more rigid than her mother. For obvious reasons, he couldn’t empathise with his daughter when she asked him if she could go to the party like her mother did. The only thing that came to his mind as soon as he heard her request was the danger she could find herself in and that he couldn’t possibly protect her from being at home.

It seemed like the obvious decision to make to him so imagine his surprise when his wife, for the first time, took their daughter’s side. Had she gone out of her mind? Did she not see how dangerous it was? Their daughter was just a little girl, to send her in a place they didn’t know about, with people he didn’t know was absolute madness. This had to be a conspiracy against him, the women ganging up on him. But he was having none of it. His daughter won’t go to that party, he’ll make sure of that.

“For the last time Hannah, you’re not going to that party and that’s final.” His voice bellowed in their kitchen as he raised his voice trying to make her deterred from asking again. He should have known better. Hannah stomped out of the room, making sure he was aware of her disagreement shutting the door of her room. As much as he knew he was right, he couldn’t help but feel guilty about this situation. He hated when his little girl was mad at him. He’d give his life for her and her safety, he just wished she could see that.

“You know, you should loosed the leash you keep her on or you’ll seriously strain your relationship with her.” His wife’s voice met his ear and he looked at her genuinely surprised by what he’s hearing.

“Don’t talk about our daughter as if she was a dog.” He replied gobsmacked by her insinuation.

“Then stop treating her like one.” She simply stated.

“What are talking about?”

“I’m just saying that I understand why you’re so hellbent on not making her go but you can’t shield her from any danger of this life. It’s our job as parents to let her make her own experience while offering her guidance and comfort if needed. She needs to get out and see the world. If you’re going to restrain her, she’s going to hate you for it.” She softly explains, fully understanding where he’s coming from.

“It’s just… she’s my little girl. I don’t want anything bad to happen to her. Ever.” He quietly confesses. Cooing at him, she sits and takes his hand carefully stroking it.

“And you think I do? But you know as well as I do that pain is the best teacher and she needs to find her place in this world. She’s not so little anymore, you know? I was just a little older than her when I met you.” She smirked at the memory of their first meeting.

“I’ll be damned if I let her end up with a fucker like me.” He joked making her laugh.

“There’s quite no one like you, my beautiful bear of a husband.” She sweetly indulges him, leaving a sweet kiss on his mouth.

“Now go talk to her.” She prompts him returning to the meal on the stove.

Standing up, muttering profanities at the acute pain in his back, he goes to make his way out of the kitchen towards the stair of his daughter’s room. However, he didn’t need to go that far, seeing that Hannah was standing at the end of the stairs looking at him tear eyed. Smiling at him, she charges at him trying her best to circle his neck with her arms. Scooping her up in his arms he holds her closer to him, ignoring his back pain.

“I get that you’ve heard our conversation, cheeky bugger.” Alfie chuckles in her ear not letting her go. Pulling away from his neck, she looks at him and speaks after kissing his cheek.

“As much as it pains me to say it, mum’s right. That doesn’t mean that I’ll stop being your little girl.” She cutely says and Alfie could feel his heart flutter.

“There won’t ever be a guy I’ll love more than you daddy, you should know it.” Hannah delivers the last blow and for the first time in ages, he could feel his eyes get moist. Looking up, he tries to stop the tears from falling.

“I sure hope it won’t.” He mumbles losing his fight with his tears and opted for hiding his face in her neck. She laughed knowing what he’s trying to do and held him even closer to her enjoying this rare moment of affection from her dad.

[terriblelifechoices]

💖 Send this to 10 other bloggers that you think are wonderful. Keep the game going, make someone smile! 💖 (💖 have a lovely day!💖) ---- Sending back to u because I think ure wonderful!

Likewise, my friend.  You’re a constant delight.

You mentioned wanting to see more of the Hughes siblings, so here is some completely self-indulgent fic.  I had a lot of fun with the swearing.

Some context, from Nothing Shall Be Impossible:

“Win?”

“It’s the only thing she’ll answer to, outside of Hughes,” Percival told him. “Her full name is Winifred Hughes. Her parents died when she was small, so her oldest brothers pretty much raised her. Win’s got five older brothers and one younger. Ezra and Miles didn’t know much about raising little boys, much less little girls, so the youngest four grew up … a little wild. It explains a lot about her personality, really.”

Percival liked her personality. Credence could tell. Percival wouldn’t have sounded nearly so amused if he wasn’t secretly fond of Win Hughes’ persuasive brand of crazy.

“I have no idea where her vocabulary came from,” Percival sighed. “Hughes could make a sailor blush.”

“An Auror,” Ezra repeated.

An Auror, of all the fucking things.  Merlin’s hairy wrinkled scrotum.  An Auror.

Win raised her chin and narrowed her eyes at him, radiating defiance.  “What’s wrong with being an Auror?” she demanded.  “It’s a good job.  The hours are shit, but the pay is good.  It’s stable,” she added, using the word as an invocation.  Win was too little to really remember the bad years just after Mom and Dad died, but she wasn’t blind to its aftereffects.  Stability – financial or otherwise – had just been a pretty dream, then.  Stable was the Hughes family watchword, their invocation, their prayer.  Stable meant a little patch of the world that no one could disrupt or take away.  Stable meant food on the table and clothes on their backs and not worrying about whether or not having one meant going without the other.  Stable was everything they’d dreamed about when they were young.

“There’s more to life than stable, Win,” Ezra told her, feeling vaguely blasphemous and more than a little heartbroken.  He wanted more for his siblings than what he’d had.  “If you’re just signing up for the paycheck –”

“Fuck yourself,” Win interrupted, flushed red with rage.  “I’m not, okay?  I’m not you.”

Ezra felt the words like a slap.  It would have hurt less if she’d slapped him, he thought.  Having his failures thrown in his face like that hurt.

“No,” Ezra said.  “You’re not.”

“Ez,” Win said.  “Ez, I didn’t mean it –”

“Oh, yes you did,” Ezra snapped.  He stopped, swallowing down his angry reply.  They went down like ground glass, an awful raw thickness in his throat it hurt to breathe around.

At eighteen he’d had parents.  At twenty he was one, and he’d taken any job he could to make ends meet.  He worked shifts in No-Maj factories during the day, tended bar in the wizarding part of town at night and ran errands for Gnarlack and his ilk, knowing full well that what he was doing wasn’t legal and telling himself he didn’t have the luxury of principles.  Not with five brothers and a sister to look after.  He slept whenever he could, which wasn’t often, in between work and trying to make sure that Joey and Win and Danny grew up healthy and safe, that Miles and Eddie and Colin were passing all of their classes.  Miles had wanted to drop out, to help, because he was seventeen and thought he was old enough to shoulder some of the burdens.  Ezra hadn’t wanted to let him, and they’d spent the entire summer after the funeral having a series of shouted arguments.  Those invariably ended with slammed doors and hurt feelings.  Things were better between them now, but Ezra had lost his taste for fighting with his siblings years ago.  He wasn’t going to start again now.

“If that’s what you want to do, then you should do it,” he said, measured and calm.

“Ez –”

“No,” he said.  She couldn’t take the words back, and he couldn’t hear her apology.  Not yet. Not while the wound was still raw and new.

Ezra took a deep breath and told her what he’d come here to say.  “I’m proud of you, Win.”

*

Miles stormed into Panacea just after closing.  He had a key, but Ezra had been expecting him, so the door wasn’t locked.

“What the absolute shitting fuck,” said Miles.

“Hello to you to,” Ezra said, wiping down the polished golden oak of Panacea’s bar.

Miles slammed a bottle down on the bar between them and took a seat on one of the stools and pointed an accusing finger at Ezra’s face.  “Don’t play coy with me, you miserable bastard.  I know you too well to fall for it.”

Ezra sighed.  “You’re my brother, not my spouse.  Kindly stop haranguing me like some tentacle fucker’s fishwife.”  He turned the bottle towards himself so that he could read the label, reasonably certain that he already knew what it was.  Miles was a distiller for Philosopher’s Stone Distillery; he rarely brought anything else.  It turned out to be a bottle of Prima Materia, which was the Stone’s brand of vodka.

“Good stuff,” he observed.

“Get us some glasses, yeah?”

“I’m not drinking with you,” Ezra warned, bringing out two shot glasses.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Miles, waving this aside as inconsequential.  He cracked the seal on the bottle and filled both shot glasses.  “Drink up.”

Ezra tossed it back, exhaling just after he swallowed and savoring the light notes of fruit and something floral.  The Stone brewed their vodka from pears, and while it had been distilled until it had no fruit flavor, he fancied he could still taste just a hint of it.

Miles immediately filled his glass again.  “Drink.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“You gonna fucking talk to me if you’re not?”

Ezra drank.

“She’s really fucking sorry,” Miles said, several shots later.

“I know,” Ezra said.

“She didn’t mean it, either.”

“I know that, too.”

“You still mad?”

“Yes.  No.  I don’t fucking know, I’m drunk,” said Ezra, crossly.  He sighed heavily, snagged the bottle and poured himself another shot.  He sipped this one.  Prima Materia was really too good to waste pounding it back like it was rotgut.  It was meant for sipping.  “I’m not mad at Win, not really, I’m mad that she’s right.  She’s not me.”

“No,” agreed Miles.  “You saw to that.”

“We both did,” Ezra said, muttering the words into his vodka.  Things had gotten a little better after Miles graduated from Ilvermorny.  Eighteen was still too young to help pick up the slack in parenting their younger siblings, but Ezra hadn’t been able to stop him.

“Yeah,” Miles said, gesturing for Ezra to refill his glass.  “We did good, I think.”  He laughed.  “An Auror, though.  Morgana’s tits, you ever think we’d end up with one of those in the family?”

“Fuck, no.  Of course not.”  Ezra was perfectly ordinary law-abiding citizen these days, but he’d done what he had to in order to put food on the table.  They both had.  The fact that neither of them had become fully-fledged petty criminals still surprised him sometimes.

“She’ll probably be good at it,” mused Miles.

Ezra scoffed.  “You kidding me?  She’s gonna be fucking amazing.”  Ezra had never met anyone as fast with their wand as his baby sister.  The Aurors would be lucky to have her.

“You should tell her that,” Miles advised.

“Yeah,” said Ezra.

*

Win was fucking amazing.  It killed Ezra that no one else saw that.

He wondered if this was his fault.  He didn’t know anything about raising little boys, much less little girls, but at least he’d actually been a little boy at some point and had some idea about what made them tick.  Win hadn’t seemed to mind all that much growing up, even if she’d had to get the sex talk and an explanation of her womanly monthlies from Healer Zhong at Ilvermorny rather than her mother.

Win was a round peg in a square hole, and she didn’t care who knew it.  She was incredibly, unbelievably fast with her wand, to say nothing of good at piecing things together from the very faintest of clues.  But she wasn’t polite or diplomatic or anything other than herself, which tended to put people off.

Those people had their brains of twice digested tuna as far as Ezra was concerned, but those people were also in charge, and Win had pissed off enough of them to cripple her chances at a promotion.  Win claimed she didn’t care, but –

Stable, Ezra thought.  Being bounced from department to department after she pissed off a superior officer wasn’t stable, and Win still craved stability.  If she didn’t seem to actually like being an Auror so fucking much, he’d have begged her to quit ages ago.

“So now I’ve been seconded to Covert Magical Investigations,” Win concluded.

“Ah,” said Ezra.  He paused, and then decided that the obvious question really did need to be asked.  “Doesn’t that require, oh, I don’t know, subtlety?”

“Fuck you, I can be subtle,” his sister grumbled.

“Win,” Ezra said patiently, “your default setting is ‘agent of chaos’ and your favorite word is ‘fuck.’  People tend to notice that sort of thing.”

“I’ll fit right in!” Win said cheerfully.  “Fischer wants me undercover with Reckoning’s lot.”

“I’m sorry,” Ezra said.  “I don’t think I heard you correctly, because what I thought I just heard you say was that your assigned department head wants you undercover with motherfucking There-Shall-Be-A-Reckoning Johnson.”

“Er,” said Win, looking somewhat taken aback.  “No, you heard that part right.”

“Motherfucker!” said Ezra.  “No.  No, no, no, and also hell no you are not going anywhere near that psychotic sister-fucking shit weasel!”

Win stared at him.  “So you’ve heard of him,” she said.

“Reckoning is insane.  Actually, literally, godsdamned crazy.  Whatever pox he had on his pathetic pencil dick has rotted its way up the rest of him and scrambled his brain like a motherfucking omelette.  The only reason he still runs a gang is because he scares the shit out of everyone else.  Even the other bosses won’t do business with him.”

“You are strangely informed about New York’s criminal underworld,” Win observed.

“I’m a bartender, Win.  You wouldn’t believe the shit I hear.”  And maybe he kept an ear out for that sort of thing.  Just because he wasn’t a petty criminal didn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention.

“Sure,” said Win, who clearly didn’t believe him.

Well, fuck.  At some point, Ezra was probably going to have to explain some of the things he’d done in the bad years.  He’d really hoped to avoid having that conversation with Win, especially now that she was an Auror.

That was going to be awkward.

Win sighed.  “I’ve got orders, Ez.  I don’t exactly get to pick and choose what orders I follow.”

“Then find a way out of them.  Piss Fischer off.  Hell, I don’t care if you have to seduce his damned wife.  Just stay away from Reckoning.”

“You worry too much,” Win said.  “I’ll be fine.”

She wasn’t.

A/N: Yes, I totally named Win’s brothers after the actors in the Fantastic Beasts cast.  

The Hughes siblings, circa 1926:

Ezra, age 48Miles, age 45Edward, age 43Colin, age 40Joseph, age 37Winifred, age 33Daniel, age 31

[hanzier]

Richie Tozier was 17 years old that summer and gloriously self-destructive. Much like Bev, he had just finished barreling through an awful year. Although, unlike Bev, he did nothing in attempt to prevent himself from spiraling- instead he let himself fall. No house, no health insurance, no future plans and no problem with any of that. He had his job, his friends and enough weed to keep him in a permanent state of semi high.

It could be said that much like Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier was at an all-time low. But, Richie didn’t consider himself to be any lower than he’d always been. Over the course of the summer he had many opportunities to change that, and though he took advantage of a few of these well…

Like I said Richard Tozier was tragically self-destructive, but more on that later.

Richie was seldom caught frowning in the company of Bill Denbrough.

The pair could have close to intense arguments and still have a hint of amusement in their voices and a tug at the corner of their lips. They just played off of each other’s goofiness and complimented each other in such a way that only brothers could. Richie loved being around Bill, because his smile was infectious.

But as of present, Richie was not smiling at his best friend. He was, in fact, almost ready to toss him out of a window. Which would be difficult, considering they were walking down the deserted main street.

“Three god-damn shots and a beer!” Richie was incredulous and speaking to no one in particular, “How the fuck-“

“Rich, knock it off. He apologized.” Bev’s voice called from behind him, he turned around.

Bill was slung over her shoulder, a goofy grin plastered on his intoxicated face, “I didn’t mean to flush them I swear, Rich.”

Richie blinked furiously as he heard Eddie giggle somewhere to his right, everything was already kind of hazy and that damn sound made the world go blurry.

He soon realized that the additional fuzziness wasn’t due to Eddies laugh, but to a drunk Stan Uris knocking his glasses off of his face.

Two large blobs knocked into each other to his left and Stan murmured, “Whoops, sorry Rich.”

Richie blinked again, unsure of where they had fallen on the dark pavement, he was too high for this, “Mother fucker…You know, Denbrough, this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t flushed my fucking contacts you drunk slut.”

Eddie’s giggles started again, “Drunk slut?” He was closer than Richie realized, right next to him, actually. And Richie really wished he could see what the hell was happening as more giggles erupted from everyone in the group.

“Here ya go,” Richie felt his glasses slide onto his face from someone below him.

He looked down at Eddie who was very much in his space, and seemingly decently intoxicated. Richie liked that he wasn’t as uptight as he’d been that morning. He seemed like he was having fun, and Richie got a little selfish thrill knowing that he had played a small role in making that happen, (although some could definitely be contributed to his two shots of tequila and a hit from Richie’s own blunt).

Eddie had been kind of closed off at first, but Richie wore him down with a few mom jokes and an inappropriate amount of touches for someone he had just met. By the time they left the apartment, Eddie had been calling Richie a ‘blind want-to-be stoner’ with a glimmer in his eye.

Richie grinned, “Well thanks, doll. I was getting tired of not seeing that pretty little face.”

Eddie just rolled his eyes, stepping back out of Richie’s space.

Richie turned around to see what the laughter had been about and realized that Stan had been impersonating him with a large pair of sunglasses on, feeling around Bill’s chest and Bev’s hair as if he were blind.

“Hardy har har. When did you become such a menace, Stanny?” Richie laughed, enjoying the rare sight of his most responsible friend letting loose.

Stan was by no means the stick in the mud strangers had mistaken him for, due to his clean-cut look, but he defiantly didn’t indulge in shenanigans as often as Bev, Richie and Bill.

“I learned from the best.” Stan said with a smug look, his hand still firmly placed on Bill’s bicep.

Richie raised a brow, but didn’t say anything, instead putting on his best Scottish accent, “Tha’ ya did, Stanleh.”

Bev groaned under Bill’s weight, “Stan, you gotta keep him up. He’s way too heavy for me.” Without waiting for a response, she tilted to the left, unloading all of Bill’s mass onto Stan’s shoulders.

He didn’t seem to mind.

She skipped a few steps forward to Eddie, who was suddenly looking much more bitter than he had just moments before, “I hope Mike remembered the oreos. I’m really craving double stuffed.”

As if on cue, Mike Hanlon: knight in shining armor, emerged from the 7/11 brandishing a cure for the munchies, rather than a sword. In Richie’s expert opinion, sour cream and onion chips were much more impressive than any medieval weapons. But, that could have been the weed talking.

Eddie was the first to Mike, nearly snatching the bag out of his hands. He grabbed a water bottle and the back of pretzels and made his little way over to Bill and Stan.

“Here, Bill. Try and sober up a little so that you don’t fall asleep before we get to the beach.” Eddie held out the opened water bottle and Bill took it with unsteady hands. Stan held it to his mouth instead and Eddie deflated a little more.

Richie watched the interaction in awe, “The kid is six feet tall. This isn’t even close to his first time drinking… How is he still such a massive lightweight?”

Bev giggled sifting through the shopping bag as she sat on the curb next to Mike, “God had to give him some flaws, right?”

Mike snorted and popped an oreo into his mouth. Richie and Beverly looked at him in awe, “Why’d you just eat that?”

“Oreos are vegan,” Eddie entered the conversation, the same slightly sour look on his face, “Mike told me before when I was asking how he survived on that diet without junk food.”

Bev’s face contorted in horror, “What the heck are they made out of then?”

Mike shrugged, “Chocolatey goodness.” he offered them around the group and Richie took six, and sat down next to Bev. He looked across the street at Stan and Bill while he munched.

The pair was sitting on the opposite curb, sides pressed together, Bill’s head on Stan’s shoulder, while Stan held the bottle of water to Bill’s mouth.

“How long has that been going on?” Richie directed the question at Eddie, leaning back on his hands and looking up at him for a change.

Eddie rolled his eyes, “According to Ben it hasn’t been going on. But, they’ve been awfully close all year.”

Mike spoke, clearly noticing the sore spot and trying to change the subject, “Ben’s the one who broke his leg right?” Eddie nodded, “He’s getting his cast off in a week, so he’ll be joining us soon enough.”

Bev hummed, clearly not as interested in this as she was in the situation across the street. She leaned her head on Richie’s shoulder, the proximity made him smile and he gestured to her bag, she handed it over knowing exactly what he needed, “So did either of them say anything…”

She trailed off nodding across the street and Richie dug through her extensive collection of lipsticks, clothing swatches and what would be a suspicious zip-lock bag to most, finally pulling out a cigarette. She lit it for him with her sparkly hot pink bic. He liked it when they were in tune like that. It was getting rarer and rarer.

He inhaled sharply, staring at Eddie.

They both knew what she was really asking.

Had Bill come out?

It was a good question. One that Richie was sure he knew the answer to. One that Richie was sure Eddie needed the answer to.

Eyes never leaving Eddie, he blew out a stream of smoke.

Eddie shrugged, trying and failing to come across as nonchalant, “Stan came out a year ago. He told us all about how he liked you last summer, Mike. He said all you guys knew.”

Mike smiled fondly at the memories. But that wasn’t the answer Bev was looking for, she opened her mouth to pry again. She really could be quite the gossip, Richie recalled the hours she and Stan blabbered on over the phone.

Richie wasn’t particularly interested in talking about Bill all night while he sat twenty feet away, “Yea, no one was particularly surprised about that one.” He said flatly. The topic of coming out was not one that Richie was at all fond of.

Mike spoke, “We should get a move on if we want to even make it to the bonfire before it gets shut down.”

Richie leaned forward, gently shaking Bev off, “Big Bill! How ya feeling, fella?” He made his way across the street to Stan and Bill, who both looked a bit better than they had five minutes ago.

They albeit leapt apart at the sound of his voice, “Much better, Rich. Sorry about the contacts, they were just so slimey…”

Stan grimaced, standing up to adjust his pants. Richie offered Bill a hand up, which he gladly took, standing much steadier than he had before.

“See,” Mike said, crossing the street to meet them, “All you needed was a little break and a little water. Let’s try to pace ourselves for the rest of the night.”

Richie laughed, knowing that Mike was trying to be reasonable, but also knowing that across the street Beverly and Eddie were smoking another joint.

“All right, losers, let’s roll out.”

When the finally stumbled onto the beach, the bonfire was roaring.

About forty or so kids were scattered a few yards from the lifeguard stand, around a burning pile of wood.

“PARTY’S HERE!” Richie hollered and was greeted with a roar of approval from the people he was jogging to.

Eddie didn’t know what to do. Parties were something he had steered clear of ever since a disastrous encounter on Halloween in freshman year. He looked to his left and wished he hadn’t.

Bill and Stan were laughing to themselves, sharing a new bottle of beer, closer than they needed to be. Eddie wondered when the germs had stopped bothering Stan.

Feeling uncertain, he followed Richie. Mike was preoccupied spinning in a circle with Bev on his back, both of them laughing wildly.

He made his way over to the bonfire, the heat greeted him before anything else.

Richie was standing with his arm looped around a blonde girl’s shoulder, she was wearing a red lifeguard hoodie and handing him a red solo cup.

Eddie teetered on the edge of the fire for a moment before the sound of Richie’s voice permeated his thoughts once again, “Everyone, this is Eddie,” he had his solo cup raised in Eddies direction, “Give him a warm welcome, it’s his first time in Paradise.”

From what Eddie could tell, these kids would cheer at anything, because there were several shouts of approval from the group.

Someone handed him another drink and Eddie realized he was still too sober to deal with such a new social situation.

Bev and Mike came to his side and Bev looked at his drink, “You want that? I can light up with you instead.”

Eddie looked at the drink and shrugged, “I’m gonna be honest, I’ve only smoked a few times. So, for now I’m a little more comfortable drinking.”

He didn’t need the drink, it was only a beer but he was already feeling light and floaty. He drank it anyway.

Time was drifting at an odd pace, as it tended to do when you were drifting under the influence.

There were claps on the backs and informal introductions and Eddie found himself successfully distracted from everything he wanted to be distracted from.

He wasn’t a fan of the music, rap wasn’t something he was too fond of and it was blaring. But he was a fan of the way Bev was dancing to it, twirling by herself, offbeat and happy.

He stood from a log he didn’t know he was sitting on and joined her to the back of the crowd. It was a bolder move than Eddie usually made; he wasn’t one to go to parties, let alone dance with girls at them. But, he had already become very comfortable with Beverly, and the alcohol and weed were certainly making things easier for him.

He grabbed her hand and she giggled. She jumped up and down with him until he tried to spin her, failing miserably because she was about an inch taller than him.

They both collapsed into peals of laughter and Eddie continued to forget that Bill and Stan had disappeared the moment they stepped on the beach.

The stars were shrouded in a fog of sorts. It took Eddie a few seconds to realize that was because of the smoke.

Richie walked over with the blonde girl, interrupting the dance.

He squeezed his wiry frame between the dancing pair, pressing himself almost flush to Eddie and spoke, “Mind if I cut in? Estelle wants a word with our Bevie.”

Richie was leaning down to Eddie, almost blocking his view of Bev, but he could just see her pick up her bag as the blonde girl whispered something that made Bev frown.

“I guess… what’s that about?” Eddie pried, feeling loose as Richie swayed in front of him.

The taller boy grinned, “Estelle is a client of Bev’s. She’s also a life guard. Cute huh?”

It wasn’t a question. It was a challenge. And Eddie was too drunk for it. He was about to fail miserably.

Eddie shrugged, finishing off his drink, “I’m not really into blondes.”

“Red heads then, right?” Richie had an infuriatingly sly look on his face and Eddie prayed to whatever god was listening that this stranger didn’t know what he was trying so hard to hide.

“You mean Bev?” He wasn’t convincing enough. His voice cracked and Richie smirked. He hoped his breathing wasn’t as shallow as it felt.

“No, not Bev- our other resident ginger B.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world and his casual tone made Eddie’s blood boil, “You have a crush on Big Bill too right?”

Eddies world was crumbling and he couldn’t make a sound, but Richie was gladly jabbering on.

“I’m starting to think it’s some sorta rite of passage to fall for the fucker… Bev was head over heels for the guy. They only hooked up a few times, but she gushed about him for weeks. Obviously, she’s over it now, but Christ, did ya see the look on her face when she saw how hot he’s gotten.”

Richie didn’t notice that he was more or less talking to himself, “Now Stanny- I’m surprised he didn’t have higher standards, but have you ever seen a kid so in love?” He laughed, “Besides from looking in the mirror, I guess.”

Richie hadn’t meant to be malicious. He was high. And he was perpetually jealous of Bill. He was also maybe trying to get a rise out of Eddie, in a twisted attempt to see if he was right about his hunch. He was teasing for entirely selfish reasons, he knew there was no positive outcome, but like I said, Richie Tozier was incredibly self-destructive.

And once he started talking, he couldn’t stop.

But Eddie knew none of this. He simply knew that this boy had uncovered his darkest secret in mere hours and was making fun of him for it.

He was still going, as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, “Tell me, what is it about Billy that makes your knees quiver? Gotta hand it to him, he has some charm if he can rope three-’’

Eddie managed to regain control of his mouth, “I’m not gay,” he snapped, “Especially not for Bill.”

Richie put the cigarette to his lips and lit it with that tacky lighter once again, “Whatever you say, Eds.”

“Don’t call me that!” His voice was shrill and he tried to get a grip, but it was easier said than done.

His breath was shaky and far too thin. He felt like he was having an asthma attack and then he felt stupid. Because his asthma was fake. So, Eddie just stood there breathing in and out while Richie abused his lungs.

One…two…three… inhale. One…two…three… exhale. One…two…three… one…two…three…one…two…three…

He wasn’t sure how long they stood like that, but they had long since stopped dancing when Mike greeted them with a blissful grin. Eddie wished he could reciprocate it.

“Hey, guys. You seen Bill or Stan?” he sounded genuinely concerned.

Richie grinned around his cig, “They ran off the second we got here. They’re probably in the dunes, sucking face.”

Mike frowned, “Well, I’m gonna look for them. You should get Bev out of here, Rich. Someone heard sirens…said the cops were on their way.”

Richie’s whole demeanor changed and he dropped his cigarette, “Okay. Call me when you find them.” He looked down to Eddie, “C’mon, Eds. Looks like the party’s over.”

He walked off, expecting Eddie to follow him. And Eddie wanted to do nothing less than sprint in the opposite direction, but his body was feeling the toxic mix of anxiety, alcohol and weed and his brain wasn’t working. He was scared if he let Richie walk off, he would be stranded on the beach for the rest of his miserable little life, so he followed the douche.

Bev was making a drug deal in the dunes when the sirens got closer. She pocketed the cash and zipped up her bag, quickly turning on her heel.

She tried not to panic, it was always worse when she got in her own head, so she merely sped walk for a minute. However, the second she heard the tires screech she took off in a sprint.Someone was calling her name. She moved faster and crashed squarely into the guilty party, “Rich,” she breathed out.

“Hey Ringwald, a little faster maybe?” She started moving again, barely registering that Eddie was also running alongside them.

There were kids scattering every which way and the music had shut off. It was pitch black on the beach; the cops had put out the fire and the only source of light was from a shitty streetlamp on the board walk. The only thing that could be heard now was chaos.

“Richie!” A deeper voice called out from a few feet ahead. It was Mike, gesturing wildly for them to hurry up, “Stan and Bill are out already. Hurry!” They finally reached him, he was holding up the wire fence that stretched from the bottom of the board walk to the sand.

Bev was the first to throw herself under it. It smelled awful and the sand was wet and cold but she crawled like her life depended on it. Because it did.

Stan was holding up the fence on the other side and she slipped out, hearing the other boys struggling behind her. There was another cop car driving towards the boardwalk.

The second she saw Mike stand up she yelped, “Book it!” And the six of them took off into the dimly lit street, leaving the blaring sirens behind.

Heyyy guys enjoy chapter three! Any feedback is welcome, I’d love to hear what you guys have to say about the story so far. :)@

@fuckuris @dewdropseddie @richietoaster @sad-synth @rrichiettozier @its-stranger-than-you-think

[zillanewt]

Merc With A Trashmouth

Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three // Chapter Four

summary: Despite growing up in Derry together, the two boys went down two very different paths. Richie is the world’s most notorious mercenary and assassin, while Eddie is none other than New York’s sweetheart - the literal poster boy for bringing justice to baddies without unaliving them. This is the self-indulgent spideypool!reddie au that literally nobody asked for.

pairing: reddie

words: 2.3K

warnings: general lewdness, non-graphic violence, the loss of a limb.

A/N: holy shit so i didnt expect this to get such a positive response like it did???? im just going to say that since this is a spideypool au, im literally not going to skimp out on any of the deadpool stuff, including the scarring and the angst. oh yeah and i was worried about this being too out of character and just becoming literally spiderman and deadpool, rather than richie and eddie, but since their dynamic is the exact same, i think it blends quite nicely. the dialog between them is the easiest thing to write in this fic. Please message me if you would like to be added to the taglist!

For some stupid fucking reason, Richie must’ve expected finding Eddie to be a lot easier than it actually was, which was completely unrealistic because there must be at least two million people in Queens alone. It wasn’t like the file actually helped any. There was an address scribbled inside it, but it had to be an old one because when Richie went, all he found was a delightful old Thai lady. Much to his dismay, Eddie could be literally anywhere in New York, and Richie had no clue where to start.

All he really wanted to do was crawl back to his shitty bar in Canada and pretend he had never even heard Eddie’s name in first place.

Seriously, he’s been around to literally every pharmacy and Starbucks (he knows that boy must drink pumpkin spice lattes) in Queens, and there are still no leads, just dirty looks due to the suit. At least, he left his guns in the hotel room. He learned on a job a couple years ago that NYPD does not fucking play around.

Every single day he’s still there, the lack of action causes cells in Richie’s brain to shrivel, and he just wants to fucking scream, because god dammit..he needs to shoot something. He has been in New York for a total of 5 days, and that’s a lot of days to go without unaliving somebody. All he needs to do is find Eddie, make sure nobody’s done anything stupid, and go the fuck back home, so he can continue playing with Bea and Arthur.

Perhaps, he wasn’t meant to find Eddie, in all honesty. The guy is probably married with a kid or two, doing god knows what American dream job. Richie can tell from personal experience that when Derry memories flood back into your life, it’s like watching a grotesque monster infecting and suffocating anything good you currently have. Derry kids so rarely had the chance of happiness, so who was Richie to waltz into Eddie and rub his excess Derry angst all over Eddie’s perfect life.

But, would any of the Losers grant Richie the same kindness if the roles were reversed and he lived a happy life?

Yes....actually.

Damn his friends for being thoughtful and ethical!

Rationally, he should just give up his search and look for the nearest seedy titty bar to crawl into, while he still has his dignity and Eddie has his.

But, Richie always kinda sucked at being rational.

Most people had their heads to be reasonable over their hearts and dicks, but Richie’s head was just as irrational as the latter two.

Richie giggled to himself on a full subway car, earning the glare of a very scary looking Puerto Rican woman. “You said head,” he mumbled to himself, still immaturely sputtering out laughs.

Like the dumbass he was, Richie decided the best course of action would be to track Spider-Man rather than Eddie. Spider-Man was broadcasted all the time. At any given time, there was a camera ready to film that cute little bubble butt every time a baddie caused some big explosion or killed some people.

If Eddie was Spider-Man, then Richie just had to find Spidey and let him know there’s a hit out on his secret identity. Then, he could finally get the fuck out of New York City!

***********

Six days later, Richie began to realize his plan wasn’t as genius as he expected it to be. Mass destruction doesn’t just happen every day in New York, surprisingly. That wasn’t to say Spider-Man wasn’t active on the streets every day. It just wasn’t exactly news. Crime happens. Spider-Man stops it. Yawn.

He supposes he’d just have to find out what route Spider-Man takes his patrol on because there was no way he was blowing anything up to attract the guy. The feds were already on his ass because he “assassinated over 150 American citizens.” Pffft. Like he didn’t kill anybody who didn’t deserve it. His victims were always drug lords, pedophiles, and other scumbag criminals because he still had a moral code (thank you very much!).

It shouldn’t take this fucking long to find one guy. He’s an assassin for fuck's sake!

He began to question locals about Spider-Man sightings, though most of them just talked about the footage they’ve seen on the news.

It wasn’t until he came across a Deli owner in Queens that he found an actual lead, completely by accident. Truthfully, he just wanted a roast beef sandwich. He wasn’t looking for anything.

“Man, how hard is it to find Spider-Man in this town?” Richie said conversationally, leaning against the counter while the owner sliced the meat.

The mustachioed man looked him over cautiously, then spoke in a gruff voice. “I thought all youse masked freaks knew each other or something. Are you tellin’ me there’s not a giant bat signal shining out each of your assholes so youse can locate each other?”

For the first time since he came to New York, Richie busted out laughing so hard that he was hunched over and slightly crying.

Thank god for vulgar Deli owners!

As the man finished making the sandwich and rung it up at the register, he still kept a judgemental eye on Richie. When he finally determined Richie wasn’t a threat, he chose to continue speaking.

“Spider-Man comes swinging over this street right here every night,” he gestured out the window. “We appreciate having him in the neighborhood. Stopped my niece from getting mugged. He seems like a good kid...whoever he is.”

Immediately, Richie reached across the counter and grabbed the man’s face with both hands. Before the man could cold-cock him, Richie placed a chaste kiss through his mask the man’s mouth.

“You have just made my decade, buddy,” Richie shouted, throwing a 20 on the counter and snatching up his sandwich. “Keep the change!”

As he ran out the door, he exclaimed to himself, “I can finally get out of this godforsaken city and go home to my sweet, sweet Canada.”

*********

He camped out on the roof of one of the apartment buildings, after convincing an old blind woman to let him in the building because “his son locked him out.” All he had to do now was wait for Spidey.

He was like one of those animals that preyed on spiders.

Lizards??

At least, he thinks lizards eat spiders.

From this day forward, Richie Tozier a.k.a Deadpool a.k.a Trashmouth a.k.a the Sexiest Man Alive was now officially a lizard.

What a day.

At about one in the morning, Richie, sure enough, spotted Spider-Man in all his spandex glory swinging towards him. Before the little fucker could pass over him and get away, Richie stood up and shouted “Spidey!” at the top of his lungs.

Sure enough, Spider-Man noticed the antihero, standing in all his red and black, weapon yielding glory. But, he wasn’t as thrilled to see Richie as he thought the hero might be. Because, Richie is a gay dumbass, he didn’t consider the fact Spider-Man did everything by the books and was a goody-two-shoes, while Richie had been suspected of over 150 murder charges in the United States alone. So it shouldn’t have been a shock when Spider-Man immediately webbed him to the roof before landing.

“Oh wow. This is kinky,” Richie purred, wiggling underneath the webbing.

“Shut up, Deadpool!” Eddie shouted, crossing his arms over his chest. “What are you doing in my city?”

This definitely wasn’t the time to say anything to agitate the arachnid, but Richie once traded in his self-control for a pretty radical shirt.

He blew a raspberry, then opened his mouth, “like this is your city.”

Everything about this situation annoyed Eddie. It was supposed to be an easy, pleasant patrol with maybe some carjackers, not Deadpool! The man wiggling around on the roof seemed almost bored already with the conversation going on, and he insulted Eddie outright.

Eddie crouched next to Deadpool, prepared to cock him in the jaw for that comment. “Excuse me?”

The merc turned his head to look Eddie in the eye as best as he could with the masks on. “You heard me, Spidey. This isn’t your city. Derry is. Am I correct?”

For a split second, Eddie flinched away from the antihero as if he had been burned, then the shock was immediately replaced with indignation and rage. How dare anybody mention Derry’s existence in his presence! Doesn’t this guy understand how hard he worked to claw his way out of that hellhole?!

Richie sees the anger outlined on Eddie’s mask, the way his jaw and fist clenches, yet he’s completely defenseless. He’s sure he could take whatever beating Eddie could give him, but he sure wouldn’t enjoy it (despite what some people in Hong Kong might tell you).

“I was gonna be nice and leave you webbed to the roof for a couple hours,” Eddie strained through gritted teeth. “But, I guess I’ll just deliver you to the feds mysel-”

“Your name is Eddie Kaspbrak,” Richie interrupted, maintaining utter calmness and seriousness. “Your mom’s name is Sonia Kaspbrak. Your dad died of cancer when you were 5. Your first kiss was with Bill Denbrough during a game of spin the bottle when you were 14. You love the color pink, even though your mother would never let you wear it because it was ‘a color for queers.’ Oh yeah! And, your childhood best friend was Richie Tozier, who you promised to marry as an adult when you were 8.”

Though neither noticed, they both swallowed thickly at the last part. All the tension and anger flooded from Eddie’s body and was replaced by confusion with every word.

“Who are you?” Eddie whispered softly, sitting near Richie’s body.

“Uh-uh, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie scolded, “let me out of your web, and we’ll talk. I’m not going to be privy to your dungeon porn hour.”

The other man looked skeptical, as expected, but he knew he could easily overpower Deadpool if he tried anything, Carefully, he began ripping away his webbings and releasing Richie. All the while, Richie quietly observed him. It seemed as if Eddie’s heart was going to beat out of his chest.

When Richie was finally free, Eddie stared at him expectantly.

“Richie,” the merc muttered under his breath, brushing excess web away from his suit.

“What?” Eddie demanded.

“Richie,” he repeated louder, looking Eddie straight in the face. “My name is Richie Tozier.”

Eddie scoffed and stood up. “Bye, Deadpool.”

As Richie watched Eddie prepare to swing away from the roof and ruin his weeks of hard work, he decided the only appropriate course of action would be to appeal to Spidey’s sense of goodness. A few feet away from him, there was a ventilation system with Big Sharp Blades.

Perfect!

Quickly, he got up and strolled over to the system, sticking his right arm completely. He let out some fake screams, along with actual real grunts of pain. Though he knew the fucker would grow back, losing an arm was literally always going to be painful no matter what. As predicted, the hero turned around at the sound of the screams and immediately ran over.

“Deadpool! What the fuck!”

“Look, Eddie! I’m Georgie,” Richie giggled, which broke out into maniacal laughter. It soon died down, then he deadpanned, “oh yeah. Wrong universe. You won’t get that joke.”

Richie was mentally patting himself on the back for yet another genius idea, as Eddie picked him up and slung him over his shoulders, piggyback style. Wow, this boy was strong. Richie would have to store that knowledge in the wank bank.

“Are you a fucking lunatic?!” Eddie demanded as he began swinging through the air.

A little delirious giggle from the blood loss escaped Richie. “Crazy’s my middle name,” he paused. “Wait. No, it’s actually not. It’s Michael. But, Crazy seems more rad.”

Loudly, Eddie groaned, mourning the loss of his nice easy night on patrol.

“I am so dumping you at a hospital.”

“No hospitals,” Richie said firmly.

“Where the fuck else am I supposed to take you?” the other snapped.

“Your apartment.”

Richie could practically feel the eye roll. “You know this was a lot of effort to get into my pants, but I’m not going to sleep with you while you’re bleeding everywhere.”

“So, you’d sleep with me if I wasn’t bleeding everywhere?”

Suddenly, the spot where Richie’s chest was resting on Eddie’s shoulders felt slightly warmer, and if Richie didn’t know any better, he’d say the man was blushing.

“Shut up, asshole! Give me one good reason why I should take you to my apartment.”

Dramatically, Richie cleared his throat, “because my arm will grow back, first of all.” Eddie turned his head slightly to see a small tiny hand poking out of what was a bloody open wound not five minutes ago. It gave a tiny little wave at him. Every thought he ever had about Deadpool being attractive shriveled in literally five seconds as he grimaced underneath his mask at the little hand.

“Second of all, I gave you literally every reason to believe I’m Richie Tozier, yet you still won’t listen to me! Do I have to start whipping out the cringy middle school memories to get you to believe me or what? Because I personally remember the “Eddie’s Booty Jams” mixtape. The ‘80s definitely weren’t as cool as everyone made them out to be.”

It was quiet for a long time, just the sounds of New York below them.

“If I take you to my apartment, will you shut up?” Eddie sighed, no longer willing to fight this crazy situation.

“Gladly, baby boy,” Richie purred, and Eddie honestly debated dropping him from this height.

“God, I hate you,” Eddie muttered. “And for your information, I would literally never sleep with you now that I’ve seen your weird baby hand.”

“So, I had a chance before!?”

Eddie groaned, not for the last time.

taglist:  @eds2fannypacks, @welctothelosersclub, @its-stranger-than-you-think, @reddiietoship, @richietoaster, @hickey-richie, @dandeliontozier, @kaspbrck, @yalocalemo, @hearteyes-m