#first time doing Eddie not devil form & i want to pick him up and shake him like a snowglobe

[autisticredhood]

Literally so good for your health to draw your babygirls as just a lil guy. idk how to art but i do a little blob w a lil face standing like this 🧍and it’s like yeah :3 instant live laugh love!!!!!

[regrettablewritings]

Genre Blindness, aka The Brocky Horror Picture Show (Slight Eddie Brock x Reader)

A/N: Well, this is all I’m contributing to Halloween. Have at a “scary”(ly-written) fic. Have at it, kiddies. Also, kudos to K for making a punny name for this even though she knows it and everything about it (including myself) is trash!

Everyone likes to imagine themselves as the hero of their own story, a figure in the movie that was their life. The problem for you was that at this point, you had no idea to which genre your own life belonged. The easy route would’ve been to claim it was an indie, but where was the fun in that? But considering how you’d decided to start life a new in San Francisco, it was leaning somewhere along the inspirational biopic spectrum. Your apartment sure as hell supported that theory: Small, your own personal and lease-friendly touches attempting to cover up its slipshod glory, located in a part of town that, ahem, didn’t have a Whole Foods so to speak.

Clearly, you told yourself often, I am in the rough beginnings phase. You weren’t entirely sure how much of this you actually believed, but it was better to believe that something amazing was waiting just around the corner than to completely digest your life’s current situation.

The irony here being that your life, for just a moment, was about to look less like an inspirational biopic and more like a movie about being careful or at least more specific about what one wishes for.

When you hoped for something big to be around the corner, you’d meant like winning the lottery or acquiring your dream job or catching the eye of a dazzling celebrity. Or at least find the perfect pair of jeans that were both comfy and made your ass look great. What you hadn’t hoped for (or even really been in the same realm of even considering) was that something big would literally drop right by your apartment window – coincidentally in a back corner of your building.

You hadn’t noticed that anything had fallen passed your window. Not at first. You were far too busy blowing your store-bought microwavable cupcake cool, after all. But what you couldn’t ignore were the sounds that soon followed the thing’s fast descent: The loud thud of something hitting the pavement below; the bang of disturbed trashcans; the cacophony of garbage being crushed or toppled over. To be honest, you were so used to that sort of racket coming from that alleyway (never mind that it still caused you to jolt up with a vibrant, “Whatthefuck?!”) that you would’ve been more than happy to just leave it be and carry on with your lackluster night. After all, if you stopped yourself every time you heard crackheads getting into screaming matches or cats hissing at one another or party girls puking into that alley, you’d never have enough life left over to enjoy what little you had.

You glanced at the clock: a quarter to three in the morning. Most nearby clubs were probably beginning to close up shop at around this time, it was probably just somebody drunk on overpriced drinks stumbling about.

However, it was the groan that caused you to reconsider. Of all the disputes you’d overheard coming from the backway below, you’d never heard such a miserable sound of pain come rippling up the walls the way this particular one did. Normally you would’ve kept the window shut but with your busted A/C unit, you had to regrettably resort to using the rank but free air of the outside. It was bad enough you could smell suspicious things; it was no intention of yours to also hear suspicious things. But . . . Then again, maybe you didn’t hear it. Suppose you imagined it?

As if on cue, you heard a small avalanche of glass bottles and hefty garbage bags collapse. Its end was accompanied by a small whimper. It wasn’t as loud as the groan you thought maybe hadn’t happened, but it was definitely real. And still definitely human. Crap.

Against the best of your nerves, the guilt of possibly letting a genuinely injured person suffer any more than what was necessary overruled you. You crept towards your window, nudging the sill open just enough for you to humor poking your head out of it.

“Hello?” you called down in a loud whisper. You squinted at the shadows. Aside from the familiar forms of garbage cans and the dumpster and the litter you could just imagine was already there, nothing. That is, until one of those garbage bags appeared to move. Your breath stilled in your throat, eyes widening for a brief moment before narrowing once more with double intensity. The lack of proper lighting made it difficult to officially determine it, but there was little doubt about it: There was a person down there.

“Hellooo? Is anybody down there?” you called out a bit louder. Nothing. Your heart began to thud with worry. You inhaled (both with worry and with the intention of shouting) before releasing a far louder, “HELL –”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!!” bellowed some bastard elsewhere. The sudden yelling caused you to tense up and button up. Curiously (and concerningly), still no response from below. There were two possibilities to this: Either this person, like you, was not from the area and therefore lacked the devil-may-care attitude required for snapping back at the aggressor; or they had just proved your growing dread that they might’ve been unconscious.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit. You wobbled from foot to foot, eyes flickering about as your thoughts rushed. What should you do? Should you call 911? That would be the most sensible thing, honestly.

But . . . given that there wasn’t a Starbucks for an approximate twenty blocks from here – any help you called for likely wasn’t going to come immediately. Maybe you should just hope that they recover quickly and go about your business? You hated to admit to it, but the temptation was there.

After all, you shakily tried to reason, I’ve never really rushed in with all the other things that happened in that alley. This was true. But then again, the others never really had the double whammy of a person being in so much pain that they possibly blacked out. Or were on the brink of death. The shudder that thought caused forced you to shake your head. You were overthinking this. You had to have been; nobody else was making a fuss about this, were they? Probably because they’d already called the cops –

Oh, wait, you remembered bitterly, no Starbucks or Whole Foods or some shit. Plus, the screaming you’d received for calling out your own window did little to convince you of others’ sense of empathy. An expression of worry twisted your features as you forced yourself to go to the kitchen and retrieve a fork for your awaiting snack. Maybe if you took the actual steps to carry on with your previously planned night, you’d calm down some and things would take care themselves?

But could the person that you swore was in the alleyway do the same you wondered.

Clearly the cynicism of this corner of San Fran had not strangled you enough. You wished that it had.

You were currently seeing your life as veering more towards the horror genre. You concluded this with immense dread based on the following: You were creeping outside in the dark to investigate a strange noise on your own; you wanted to believe that you were perhaps defying it to some extent by arming yourself but alas: A skillet did not carry the same amount of threat as, say, a good cutting knife did. Which you didn’t have anyway. So yeah: You were being that bitch™.

You slowly waved your phone’s flashlight about the ground. So far, all you had been picking up were the usual suspects of grime and garbage and for that you were somewhat grateful. Maybe, if you hoped hard enough, the person would have retroactively recovered and buggered off before you’d gotten down. That would sure alleviate a whole lot of pressure weighing down on your nerves. But as the light encased the unmistakable figure of a shoe – still attached to a leg, no less – you knew no amount of hoping was going to relieve you. And as you traveled the light further along the body, taking in its current state, you were losing hope by the gallon.

You gasped shrilly as your eyes began to compute exactly what was wrong with the man: He was dead. He had to have been. From what little skin you could see (he was dressed in a rather blood-stained hoodie and even more unfortunate jeans), most of him appeared to be battered purple and blue. Some of his fingers had definitely been broken as evidenced by the unnatural angles they bended at. But, most horrifying of all, was the bone sticking out of him: Shins were not supposed to fucking do that. In fact, even the near absolute coverage of his clothing couldn’t hide from you just how mangled his body appeared to be in some places.

“Oh, God,” you gagged, jerking your head away from the scene. This was worse than a horror movie; this was real life. This shit was getting too out of hand, you’d finally decided. It didn’t matter if it would take them a while to get out here: You were calling the police right fucking now. This was a mob hit. This was a mob hit, and you fucking contaminated the crime scene with your mere presence. It was best to just make the call, give as much information as you could, and hole yourself up in your apartment until the memory of this faded from your mind – which would probably be never at this point.

You tried to make quick work of getting to the dialer of your phone (a difficult thing to do with sweaty, shaking fingers) but it was in the process of that that you heard something unlike the distant sirens and dogs barking of the late night hour: A sort of . . . whistling? No, no, a hissing. You forced yourself to glance back at the body. There was your answer: A nostril, struggling to inhale in spite of the nose’s battered state.

A wave of relief washed through you as you concluded that the figure before you, in spite of the odds, was alive. That made the situation somewhat better, but frankly only by the smallest of increments. You hovered the flashlight of your phone over the stranger’s face. It was frankly not too much better than the rest of his body with blood streaking across the flesh and purple beginning to set into it. But in spite of the cuts and bruises marring his face, he looked vaguely familiar to you. You weren’t entirely sure if those lips of his were naturally poofy or if they had just been smacked around a bit, but you could’ve sworn you’d seen lips like them somewhere on a particular.

You grimaced; that was enough of that. Time to make that call and leg it. With fingers still trembling, you returned your focus back to turning your phone screen back on.

Crack.

You froze, your breath stilling. Normally, you would have been very willing to link another noise in the alleyway with the trash that adorned it. However, this was a very specific sound. In fact, you could’ve sworn it sounded like . . . bone?

You weren’t sure of the demon that compelled you to do so, but you dared to glance at the body once more. Your gut dropped and your heart beat a painfully cold palpitation.

Hadn’t his left shoulder appeared more broken than that?

Sn-ap. This time, you saw it: The shoulder, in an almost jerking but completely unnatural movement, snapped into a more normal-looking position. In fact, if you weren’t so ensorcelled for all the wrong reasons, you might have considered it good as new.

CRACK. The loudness of the noise caused you to jump, your eyes flickering to where you believed the source of it to be. You watched in horror as the bone protruding from the man’s leg began to inch inward, crick after crack until it finally placed itself back into its rightful home. In fact, it took you a moment to realize that as it was rehousing itself, the rest of the broken limbs and features were correcting themselves as well. You barely registered the cacophony of bones snapping and flesh squealching, either because your heart was drumming a fearful beat inside your head or because your brain just forbade it to spare you. Either way, after the longest minute of your life, the body that lay before you wasn’t quite the same one you’d just found.

It was back to what you assumed was normal for it: A regular guy with no broken limbs or busted lips. Of course, there was still some blood here and there but that was the last thing you were concerned about. Though frankly, with the blizzard of thoughts whipping about your head, it was hard to decide what you should be concerned about: The body, the fact that it was just busted beyond belief mere seconds ago, the fact that it magically (albeit grotesquely) fixed itself, if you should just call the goddamn police and get the hell of out here.

Then his eyes snapped open. With that, your thoughts collected themselves in a single file line of concerns, that eye-opening thing being at the very front of it.

A loud, wet gasp flew from his lips, creating a gurgling noise in the cramped space of the alley. He jolted his body upright so fast, it was a miracle he hadn’t broken his neck in the process. The sudden movement, the sudden noise – it was all too much.

The corridor rang with a glorious pang, followed by an unceremonious plop of the man’s body returning back to the dirty concrete. He was out cold once again, though it was probably for the better: Had he been awake, he definitely would’ve been complaining about his re-broken nose.

You shuddered; the fact that “re-broken” was the proper word definitely wasn’t doing anything for your mental state. You were in the middle of debating whether or not this was even still a matter for the police (twenty Starbucksless blocks for one, the fact that you might be dealing with a demonic possession for another), when you heard it again: That sickening crack of bone, though you knew without even looking that it was his nose. Your eyes screwed themselves shut, your body flinching along with every snip and snap of the cartilage repairing itself. Even when it all went quiet, you didn’t look. Frankly, you were at a loss of what to even do at this point; the entire scenario was way more than what you’d bargained for, and there was no public protocol. At least with finding a busted body, there was some inkling of what to do. But this? You weren’t even sure what you were dealing with, much less with how to deal with it!

“Impressive.”

For the umpteenth time in the last half hour, you jolted. The fear that spiked through you had been more than enough to pop your eyes back open against your personal wishes. Normally, hearing another person’s voice in such a bizarre situation could’ve been a godsend. But this voice . . . It wasn’t human. It was deep, but also unnerving. It was carried in a rattling, almost metallic way that made its threatening cadence all the more evident. It was your fear instinct that forced you to turn towards it and source it. But even with a face to match the voice to, you still weren’t certain as to what you were seeing.

The first thing that came to mind was goop. The second was oil or ink. But the third was, “HOLY SHIT TEETH TEETH FUCKING NEEDLE TEETH WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING?!?” And as tempted as you were to say any of that, you found yourself unable to so much as emit a whimper of horror. As you stared into the large, milky eyes of the many-toothed, oily goop thing that was protruding from the man’s arm, you found yourself rightfully out of words. If this evening didn’t kill you, you had a feeling that whatever the hell this thing was would. And its creepy grin did nothing to convince you otherwise.

“That’s some swing you’ve got,” it complimented. You did not appreciate it. “But as outstanding as it is . . .” It narrowed its eyes and widened its grin menacingly, “I would greatly appreciate it if you did not use it to damage my property. It was my general understanding that vandalism is a bit of a big deal for your humans. Consider this my warning.”

Okay, yeah, no the fear was too much. You raised the skillet at an angle. The thing’s eyes widened.

“I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU HIT ME WITH THAT – You know what? Go ahead: I dare you. Hit me with that thing again and I will eat you.” It capitalized on that threated by giving its rows of jagged teeth a lick. Normally you might’ve wondered if such an action would be painful given the nature of its mouth, but the foulness of its tongue made you immediately discard that query. Besides, as curious as you were, you didn’t want to know what sort of deity this thing was swearing to.

You lowered the pan albeit to a shield-like position, though a part of you recognized the idiocy of it. Nightmarish ooze or no, a shield does not a kitchen skillet make. Nevertheless, the goop demon seemed pleased enough.

“Good,” it hissed. “I will admit that while I am not enthused that such a small human managed to take us down using only cooking ware, it is at least more amusing than accepting that we got our ass handed to us by a guy with a stun gun and a dog whistle.”

There were many things about that sentence to unpack but specifically, there was one that was just enough to suspend your disbelief.

“‘U-us?’” you whispered. The creature nodded in one slow, oozing gesture.

“Yes,” it confirmed. “He and I.” You regarded the man from which the glob was sourcing.

“We are . . . one, I suppose you could say,” the creature explained. Your eyes drifted back upward to meet with the whites of its own. Your breath shuttered about your throat. You dared to continue.

“Who . . . Who are you?”

You never thought the thing’s smile could grow any further. But as its oily face drew back to reveal even more pointed teeth, you were proven wrong. You didn’t feel as nervous, though. It was almost as if you were beginning to forget how to be in all your curiosity.

“Us?” it smiled, eyes narrowing once more with delight.

“We . . .” It raised up with pride, “are Venom.”

Venom. So the thing had a name. At least that question was answered. Unfortunately, the satisfaction of that didn’t appear in your features so much as they remained as neutral as they could for the moment. From the look of bemusement beginning to leak into Venom’s oily countenance, you gathered that this wasn’t the effect he had been looking for from you.

“It’s a lot more effective when we speak in unison,” Venom glowered, nodding his “head” toward his unconscious partner. You sights once again flickered to the poor bastard and you winced.

“Oooohhh,” you groaned quietly. “S-sorry?” You almost wanted to smack yourself with the frying pan for that. Why the hell were you apologizing? To validate this thing’s stolen thunder? Hell no!

“Apology not accepted,” Venom muttered. You could practically hear the pout in his tone, a fact which almost disturbed you. It was then that you heard a low groan emit from the man. At this, Venom turned himself entirely towards his human.

“Seems he’s coming around. Finally.” Venom swiveled back to you. “Do not hit us again. I can still eat you, even when he’s awake.” With that threat, he began to slink back into the body. For a moment, it was like ink was seeping into the human’s sweatshirt. But it disappeared just as quickly, signifying that Venom had, like the bones before him, returned back from whence he came. It was as if thick ink had splattered across the man’s clothing before disappearing all together.

Ordinarily you would have transfixed on that sort of thing but after everything else that had come before it (and in a span of about ten minutes at most), it was practically matter-of-fact by comparison. Therefore, you weren’t startled this time when the man woke up once more, sharply inhaling as though the air were finally being allowed back into his lungs. His eyes bulged against greying lids, flickering everywhere they could before landing on you. And then the skillet you were still holding. You could practically see the moment he remembered what you’d done.

It hurt Eddie’s lungs to breathe; apparently V hadn’t gotten around to fixing minor internal discomfort. Still, that didn’t stop him from taking a sharp intake of air as he felt himself being shot back into the realm of consciousness. But as a stinging sensation resonated within him, he regretted it. The only thing he could do in that moment of shock was wait it out; he did his usual method of taking in his surroundings, trying to recollect what all had happened when –

Aw, fuck, he cursed inside. There was another person present. He was beginning to wonder how much you had seen when his eyes happened to register that you were holding something: A skillet. Immediately, the memories of moments before began to flood back into the forefront of his mind. He woke up, you jolted, bang, he was back in the blackness.

It was therefore understandable for him to assume the worst and act on instinct – by scrambling upright and trying (and failing) to move away from you. Even with healed limbs, his body was sore but it didn’t stop him from raising an arm in defense.

“Whoawhoawhoa –” he slurred, blanking out your objections against his assumptions.

“Calm down,” he suddenly heard resonating inside his skull. “She won’t try anything. I made sure of that.”

What, what? It was enough to make Eddie pause. The hell did that mean!?

Brows furrowed, he lowered his arm. “Did . . . Are you okay?” he asked

Your face wrinkled incredulously. “E-excuse me?!” you demanded. “Am I okay!? What the hell about you?!”

“Well, I just thought –”

“You show up in a goddamn alleyway, looking like a Halloween horror show prop, you fucking heal, get panged, you have a – a thing, and you ask me if I’m o-fucking-kay?!” you screeched. With every addition to your list you made, the man grimaced. Though at that last part, that seemed to change: Less cringing, more realization.

“Wait . . . You –”

“KEEP IT FUCKING DOWN OUT THERE, FUCK!!” The sudden roaring from seven stories up the apartment building silenced the both of you. It was punctuated by a window slamming shut. The two of you remained silent, the only noise left being the distant sounds of the city and your labored breaths. You sat there, staring at one another, both clearly wanting to speak but being uncertain of what exactly to say amongst the array of possibilities. But for Eddie, there was at least one that he desperately needed to know before anything else.

“So, you uh . . . You saw him?” he asked.

“She just said she did,” Venom stated bluntly.

“Yes,” you confirmed in a low mutter. Eddie nodded, casting his eyes to the side. To alleviate the growing awkwardness, he raised a hand to the back of his head and scratched at an itch that wasn’t even there.

“Ah,” he offered plainly. He pursed his lips. “So, uh . . . What exactly did he do . . . Y’know, to keep you from bashing my brains out again?”

“. . . He said he’d eat me.”

“Still might,” Eddie heard. In spite of this, he forced an unconvincing smile of assurance.

“No, he won’t. He’s just bluffing,” Eddie insisted.

“Yes, I could.”

“We have a deal going on where we only . . .” He searched for the right word. Considering all the crap he’d put you through, no matter how unintentional, there was just nothing soft enough to lighten the blow. “We only deal with bad people, let’s just put it that way.”

That honestly wasn’t the most reassuring thing, but you had no choice but to take it. Still, your morbid curiosity wasn’t about to let it rest.

“Is it a . . . a demon?” You weren’t expecting a sensible answer, much less an honest one. But you needed something to grasp on to. Something to confirm, once and for all, that this wasn’t a shared hallucination of some kind.

The brunet shook his head.

“Nah,” he stated. “More like a paras –” He paused. He said, “An alien.” The beat he’d created for himself gave you all the reason to doubt his claim. However, in the lighted projected from your phone, you could see those eyes of his. Through all the exhaustion they held, there was honesty present in them. They told you, pleaded with you to trust his words.

And you did.

And that was when it hit you: the sudden realization of where you knew that face from. You almost wanted to sock yourself in the face for not recognizing him before – after all, how many men had lips like those?

“Holy shit,” you said mindlessly. “You’re Eddie Brock, aren’t you?”

Eddie tensed. Should he lie? He could totally lie, right? He’d been working on his career-destroying bluntness over the last few months, surely he could at least bend the truth a little into a direction that didn’t convince you he was Eddie Brock, take-down investigative journalist.

“. . . Nnnnnnooooooo?” He slurred. Fuck. He began to wonder if he had enough money to bribe you into silence.

“We could always eat her,” Venom offered. Immediately, Eddie was broken out of one panicked thought process into another.

“No!” he hissed to himself. “We are not going to eat her!” (Your eyes widened as your grip on your nearly forgotten cooking ware tightened.)

“Fine!” Venom scowled. His voice then returned, though with a hint of suggestion. “Maybe we could . . . ‘eat’ her in that other way, then. The non-sustenance-gaining but still plenty satisfying way –”

“NO!” Eddie snapped. He could practically feel the symbiote within shrugging.

“It’s a good method of keeping silence in my opinion. Won’t know unless we try.”

“Please. Just shut the fuck up,” Eddie hissed through clenched teeth.

“I, I promise I won’t tell,” you stammered insistently. You raised the pan back up as a mock shield, both to pathetically attempt protection but also to hide bits of your worrying appearance. “It’s just . . . Well, you’re some guy my college roommate got me into; she used to stream your stuff all the time, I used to watch your crap for essays and – Shit, no, I don’t mean crap, I mean –”

“Nah, nah, some of that was crap. You ever see the one about the rats at Cawthon Pizza Kitchen?”

You grinned wearily. “Only every time I consider ordering pizza.”

A beat of silence followed. Well, on your end it was silent. For Eddie, he could hear his alien parasite snickering.

“Ask her if she saw the outtake where you thought a rat scurried across your foot and you screamed like a pussy!”

Okay, enough was enough. Without warning, Eddie began to shove himself up off the dirty ground. You followed suit.

“Okay, not to cut this short or anything – it’s been a blast, almost literally, but, uh . . .” He fruitlessly brushed off his clothes. He paused, as if cut short.

“No,” he said sternly. After another moment of him not speaking, he repeated himself. “I said ‘no.’” You began to worry your lip. Considering what had been said previously whenever Eddie did this, you had every reason to feel concern.

“You’re not . . . gonna eat me, are you?” you wondered. Immediately Eddie switched his attention back to you.

“Nonono,” he raised his hands in defense. “Not you, you have our word, it’s just –” He bit a corner of his full lip. “Okay, the long and the short is that we’re kind of ridiculously hungry right now, and the bastard’s saying you owe us.”

“Oh!” You pursed your lips. “That’s, um . . .”

The man waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. Just point me in the direction of the nearest convenience store or whatever and we’ll be gone like the wind outta your hair.” He added a smile to the end of his sentence. You were happy to return it – at first. But the way he flinched as it spread caught your eye. You once again took notice of the small scratches and blemishes that still marked up his face, even after Venom’s apparent handy work. It was silly, but you couldn’t help the feelings they instilled in you. Sure, you hadn’t been the one to put them (well, most of them) there, but that didn’t negate the fact that you had smacked him hard enough to break a bone.

“No,” you found yourself interjecting. If you weren’t possessed by enough guilt to be steadfast on the matter, you would have appeared just as confused as Eddie did upon your interruption. You went on, “I mean, I don’t have much on me but, like . . . I got one of those cheap microwavable cupcakes. You can have it, if you want, I mean. I feel like I owe you for clocking you.”

“Oooohhh. Eddie, I like her,” purred Venom.

You didn’t hear that, of course, but Eddie sure did. And something inside him was a bit concerned that that was his cause for quirking a grin at you, rather than the thought of actually eating something.

Epilogue:

For whatever reason, the gravity of the situation didn’t entirely hit you at its full depth until long after the two of you trekked up the stairs to your abode. Nor did it occur when Eddie (or perhaps it was Venom, given the ferocity with which he ate) attacked the consolation cupcake. It actually hit you after Eddie’s departure (though not before him expressing his thanks and a lighthearted if awkward inclusion of “maybe seeing you around”).

You had just taken an alien-possessed Eddie Brock into your apartment and fed him a cupcake to make up for the fact that you’d broken his nose with the skillet you used to cook your eggs. It was the sort of strangeness only heard about in stories from the web or on the silver screen. Granted, most stories and movies would have chided at you for wandering outside at night and then bringing somebody you didn’t even know back to your place. The fact that he was also a host to a carnivorous, insatiable ink thing stood only to worsen the effect.

But as you finally lay down in the wee hours of the morning, there was nothing you could do about it. What was done was done. Things would never be quite the same after this night. The story had changed lanes, the script revised to reflect something less like the boring biopic you’d initially imagined, and deep down knew you were probably never going to get back so long as Eddie and Venom existed in your life. Though as you fell asleep, you deliriously decided it wasn’t something you minded.

In hindsight, you would see this as the rough beginnings phase of the odd couple story your life actually wound up being.

[reddieforlove-archive-blog]

college au

The first time Eddie saw Richie Tozier, he was laughing.

For a boy whose body and soul still ached from the chains of a childhood spent sheltered from the world, it was like seeing a specter. Something that he didn’t even believe existed until now. Eddie could only stare from where he sat under a tree in the expansive university courtyard, his legs carefully folded beneath him. 

He wore shorts, defying the old rules he had to follow as he felt grass poking at his skin. I’m not allergic, he said determinedly in his head when he first sat down. Eddie pushed himself more and more each day. Baby steps. That’s how he was going to heal. But as Eddie sat there watching, he felt the strange desire to take a leap into the unknown.

The focus of his attention was straddling a bench, talking animatedly with a redheaded girl, hands waving wildly when they weren’t adjusting his constantly slipping glasses or uselessly trying to tame his unruly curls. Eddie could see the sun glinting off of the silver ring in his ear and the dark ink of a tattoo peeking out of his rolled up sleeves. Everything about him screamed of a careless freedom.

His knuckles were scraped and bruised and Eddie could have sworn that there was a healing cut just over his eyebrow. His laughter carried across the quad, loud and abrasive and lacking in any sort of caution or shame. He didn’t feel the stares or he didn’t care. Or maybe Eddie was the only one staring. No one else seemed to notice him, another impossible thing.

Eddie couldn’t imagine not watching. It was all that he could do, longing unfurling in his chest like a beast waking from a long rest. But then that head turned and those eyes darted around, settling directly on Eddie as if the enigmatic stranger finally felt the weight of his gaze. Eddie looked away quickly, cheeks warming at being caught as he gathered his things.

He didn’t know why he ran, his heart pounding and his lungs protesting. He sprinted across campus all the way back to his dorm, digging through his bag to find his inhaler as soon as he staggered through the door, grateful to see that his roommate wasn’t there. Eddie took three full puffs before collapsing onto his small mattress.

Tears stung at his eyes and he didn’t know why.

All he knew was that the longing feeling didn’t fade away.

The day that Eddie learned his name, he was squished into the corner of a booth that was never made to fit five people. It was easy to slip into his roommate’s social circle. Mike was the kind of person that brought people together with warm smiles and endless kindness. Eddie didn’t think he’d met someone that exuded quite the feeling of welcome that Mike Hanlon did.

They were in a diner near the campus, half-eaten dinners scattered across the table and conversation filling the air around them. Bill told them about a writing course he wanted to take next semester while Ben showed some of his architecture sketches to Mike. Stan slipped in and out of the conversation with his eyes on the door.

Eddie picked halfheartedly at his plate and debated getting a milkshake. The bell over the door dinged behind them. Stan looked satisfied, finally focusing on them as he settled further into the booth. Eddie heard that laugh behind him and a cold feeling twisted in his stomach. Then the scrape of a chair across the floor reached his ears.

“What’s up, fuckers?” the same heedless spirit knocked the chair against the end of the table before straddling it backwards, folding his arms over the back of the chair.

A beanie pressed his curls low over his forehead and there was an open grin on his face.

“Beep beep, Richie,” Stan sighed.

After raising his middle finger into the air, Richie stole a fry from Bill’s plate and popped it into his mouth. The redhead girl slipped into the bench beside Stan and smacked Richie’s hand, muttering about his manners. Eddie watched it all, his heart racing in his chest as he swallowed around the suddenly dryness of his mouth and throat.

Those dark, shining eyes scanned the table, holding a hidden amusement that Eddie suspected was always there. Then they settled on him and Eddie bit down hard on his lower lip, looking away as his breath seized in his throat. He prayed that his breathing wouldn’t grow labored as he curled his hands into fists underneath the table.

Eddie was leaving his inhaler back in his dorm more and more often, no longer wanting to use it as a crutch for asthma that he didn’t actually have. Breathe in, breathe out, he told himself silently, staring down at the food that was no longer appetizing in the slightest. Eddie felt the urge deep in his chest to look, to watch, almost as if his subconscious mind knew something he didn’t.

“I’m Beverly Marsh,” he heard the girl introduce herself.

He lifted his head, fixing his gaze on her and offering a wan smile and a nod. She looked a little bit concerned, a small crease forming between her brows.

“Eddie?” Mike said, sounding worried too.

“I’m fine,” he said in answer to a question that no one asked.

Eddie’s voice sounded strange to his own ears. He looked over at Mike. Or at least that’s what he intended to do. But those eyes were still fixed on him and he couldn’t help but stare back, feeling drawn in like a moth to the flame. His control slipped and his chest grew tight. Eddie felt like he was in a free fall just by looking into the other boy’s eyes.

“I need air,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Mike and Ben didn’t hesitate to slide out so that he could do the same. Eddie tried not to focus on the brush of his hand against Richie’s knee as he stood clumsily.

“Want me to come with you?” Mike asked, his hand touching Eddie’s shoulder as he passed.

“No,” Eddie said with a shake of his head, not wanting to ruin anyone’s night because of his own fear. “I’ll be fine.”

He pushed his way out into the cool night air without looking back. He found himself leaning against the brick wall of the building, taking measured breaths, in and out, until he felt like his feet were back on the ground again. Then the door opened to his right and he knew without looking. Eddie didn’t know how, but he just knew.

Eddie turned his head and watched Richie walk closer to the street, his face briefly illuminated by a lighter’s flame as he held it over the end of a cigarette that was held between his lips. Eddie didn’t move a muscle, watching as Richie dropped the hot pink lighter into the pocket of his jacket. Eddie hated the very idea of cigarettes but he couldn’t help but stare.

There was something entrancing about Richie right now. The way his lips closed around the cigarette and how his eyes shut when he inhaled. Eddie’s eyes followed the smoke as it curled into the air before fading into nothing. Richie flicked the ashes away with his thumb, looking up at a flickering street lamp that offered very little light.

“I know I’m a gorgeous specimen but I’m gonna have to charge rent if you keep staring like that.”

He didn’t even look around as he spoke but Eddie jerked with surprise, not expecting the spell of the quiet moment to be broken.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, wondering if the words even carried over to where Richie stood.

But then he was turning his head and grinning at him.

“I was just joking, cutie. Stare all you want,” he said with a wink.

Eddie swallowed hard, looking away from him. It was Richie’s turn to stare. Eddie felt his gaze as he stared down at the cracked and dirty pavement beneath his feet. He briefly wondered what Richie saw but chased the thought away. There was very little to see about Eddie.

“So what is it about me that makes you run like the devil’s on your ass when you see me?” Richie asked bluntly.

Eddie’s eyes darted up to him and his lips parted in surprise. Richie must have remembered him from the quad. The idea of it only brought more color to his face.

“I-I don’t-” he cut off, unsure of what to say.

“It’s hard not to notice,” Richie said, though he didn’t look offended.

Eddie clasped his hands to keep them from fidgeting.

“It’s me,” he said, looking anywhere but at Richie. “Not you. I’m… scared.”

The last word left his lips in a rush and Eddie wasn’t even sure he meant to say it. Richie snorted as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

“Of me?”

“Of everything,” Eddie said, wondering what it was about Richie that made him so honest. “Are you scared of anything?”

Richie let out a laugh, that same loud, bright laugh that drew Eddie to him in the first place.

“Absolutely nothing,” he said before taking a drag from his cigarette.

Eddie glanced at him, wondering if that was even possible.

“Can you teach me?”

Richie gave him a look of surprise and uncertainty. Eddie didn’t blame him. He didn’t even really know what he was asking so he wouldn’t blame Richie for being confused. But then the other boy tossed his cigarette to the ground and stepped on it before speaking.

“Want to get out of here?” Richie asked, holding a hand out.

It was Eddie’s turn to be taken off-guard by a question. He glanced into the diner at their friends who were talking and laughing. It was safe in there. Nothing outside of Eddie’s comfort zone existed within the walls of the restaurant. But then his eyes darted back to Richie, who hadn’t wavered with his hand still outstretched. This was far beyond his usual “baby steps” approach but somehow, the decision was far easier than Eddie expected.

He took Richie’s hand.

Eddie eyed the object in Richie’s hand warily, unsure of what exactly to do with it. They were in Richie’s apartment, lounging on the floor. Richie had his back to his bed while Eddie was perched up on his knees. There were band and movie posters hung on the wall haphazardly, books, papers, and records covering the floor near their outstretched feet, the barest traces of sunlight filtering through the open windows, and soft music coming from the turntable on Richie’s dresser.

“It’s easy,” Richie said, pressing one end of the joint between his lips. “You just gotta take it slow, inhale, and breathe it out.”

He did it all slowly, showing Eddie before holding the joint out to him.

“I-I don’t think I can…” Eddie trailed off, shaking his head.

Richie stared at him for a long moment.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Eds.”

Eddie looked from his intense gaze to the joint and back. Those words had basically been Richie’s mantra for the past week, ever since they formally met that night at the diner. When they snuck into the university pool and took turns shoving each other into the water, swallowing more than they should have when laughter took over.

When they climbed the water tower just outside of town and looked down at all the twinkling lights beneath them. Richie hung over the railing with a grin as Eddie screeched and pulled at his shirt, trying to tug him back to safety. Eddie thought he’d never stop shaking once they climbed down but he did, eventually, warmed by the heaters in Richie’s old, comfortable truck with worn leather seats.

“What if I choke?” Eddie asked.

It was always something. What if we get caught? What if we drown? What if we fall? Richie always responded with a casual shrug of his shoulders. Life ain’t worth living until you actually live it, Spaghetti Man. But he didn’t say that this time. Instead he tilted his head to the side just a little bit as if he was considering something.

“Want me to help you?” he offered.

“How?” Eddie asked.

Richie didn’t answer, pressing the joint between his lips once more. Eddie watched him take a drag, pull the joint away, inhale, and hold it. Then he was placing the joint in the ash tray and turning to face Eddie, who remained perfectly still with wide eyes as Richie’s hands settled on his cheeks. It wasn’t until he leaned in that Eddie realized his intention and exhaled sharply, his lips parting just enough.

It wasn’t a kiss. Not really. Richie’s lips barely brushed over his as he exhaled into Eddie’s mouth. He shuddered and his chest started to seize up a little until Richie spoke in a low murmur, his face still hovering close to Eddie’s as he told him to inhale. Eddie squeezed his eyes shut and did just that, letting the smoke flood his lungs. As he let it all out, Richie pulled away just a little bit more without moving his hands.

“Good?” he said.

Eddie considered it for a moment, his head feeling just a little bit lighter.

“Yeah,” he breathed out.

Richie grinned and, before Eddie could really react, he leaned in again and brushed a soft, real kiss over his lips. Then he was gone before Eddie could so much as twitch, leaning back against the bed again to take another drag.

“Can we do that again?” Eddie asked in a quiet voice.

He didn’t really know for sure whether he meant the smoke exchange or the kiss. Both would be nice but Eddie wasn’t particularly choosy at the moment. Richie’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he exhaled yet again.

“In a minute,” he said, patting the spot next to him. “You gotta take it slow, short stack.”

Eddie glowered at him, though he settled against the bed next to Richie, their arms brushing as little shocks of warmth ran through him and every muscle in his body seemed to relax, tension bleeding from his limbs slowly but surely. When Richie offered the joint to Eddie a little over two minutes later after taking another hit, he shook his head and sealed his lips over Richie’s, inhaling the smoke with more confidence this time.

It was hard to be afraid with Richie around.

Eddie liked that.

“I’m not strong.”

They were in the courtyard again. Eddie was leaning against the same tree as before, wearing the same shorts as before. It was just the two of them, the late hour driving everyone else inside for either studying or partying. Richie was perched on a tree branch above him, one long leg swinging back and forth.

“Says who?” he asked, his voice floating down to Eddie.

“Everyone,” Eddie said, tilting his head back to look up at Richie. “They don’t have to say it out loud, though. They just know.”

There was no weed in his system tonight. Nothing to drive him into a confession he didn’t want to make. Eddie was just voicing the consistent thoughts that ran through his head.

“My mom didn’t think so. She told me I was weak, sick… loaded me up with medicine all the time. It was all bullshit but I let it go on. I took the medicine and I went to the doctor because… I guess everyone’s right. I’m not strong.”

There was nothing but silence from above him for a while and Eddie wondered if Richie stopped listening.

“Who got you out of there?” he finally asked.

“What?”

Richie swung out of the tree without responding, landing on the ground with an ungraceful thud before bending down to meet Eddie’s gaze, his hair falling into his eyes.

“Who got you out of there?” Richie said.

“I don’t…uh���no one?” Eddie said, feeling confused.

He smirked, giving Eddie a teasing look.

“So you magically materialized on campus? Eddie Spaghetti accidentally learned the ways of teleportation?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie huffed, kicking out at Richie’s ankle without actually meeting his mark. “I guess I, um… I did it.”

“You got yourself out?” Richie clarified.

Eddie shrugged, looking down to pick at a loose string on his shorts. But Richie was taking his chin gently and lifting his head, his smirk turning to a soft smile that made Eddie’s stomach flutter.

“Sounds pretty strong to me,” he said.

Then, before Eddie could react, he was knocking a hand into his shoulder.

“You’re it!” Richie yelled as he darted away.

Eddie watched him go with wide eyes before his mind caught up with what was happening.

“Are you five?” he shouted back.

Richie turned around, jogging backwards dangerously since there was no way of knowing what his gangly legs would trip over.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna back down,” he said.

Eddie narrowed his eyes and tried not to fall for the bait. But then he was pushing himself to his feet and rushing forward.

“Jokes on you, I started jogging every morning three months ago!” Eddie called out to him.

“And yet your cute little legs just can’t keep up!” Richie mocked over his shoulder.

“Fuck you! You have smoker’s lungs!”

Despite Richie’s trash talking, Eddie claimed victory when he practically leapt onto his back. They went down into the grass in a tangle of limbs and laughter, Richie taking the brunt of the fall as Eddie collapsed on top of him, sitting up only to pump his fist into the air triumphantly.

“Loser,” he said, pointing into Richie’s face.

“I let you win,” he said with an easy shrug, his hands falling to Eddie’s hips.

That’s when Eddie realized that, in this position, he was basically straddling Richie. His heart skipped a beat and he felt breathless for an entirely different reason as he reached down, pressing his palm over Richie’s quickly beating heart.

“You make me brave,” Eddie whispered after a long stretch of silence, looking into his eyes.

Richie stared up at him with a strange glint in his eyes, like he couldn’t quite understand the words.

“Nah,” he said, his thumb slipping beneath Eddie’s shirt to sweep lightly over his skin. “I’m nothing, Eds. You do that yourself.”

Eddie shook his head, reaching up to brush his thumb over Richie’s jaw.

“You’re not nothing.”

He bent down, pressing a kiss to Richie’s lips as his mind finished for him.

You’re everything.

Eddie didn’t really know when it happened. Richie was everywhere and then suddenly he was nowhere. Fear began leeching back in, choking him, telling him that he messed up. No one had answers. Bev looked at him with sympathy and Stan had the vaguest air of annoyance, maybe directed at Eddie, maybe at Richie. Ben assured him that Richie was probably just busy and Bill got a fire in his eyes when he saw Eddie trying to fight back his terror.

Richie was everywhere.

Then he was nowhere.

Then he was there.

Eddie was in a bookshop downtown trying to find a gift for Bill’s birthday when he saw the faded black paint and heard the familiar rumbling engine go by. He darted out without a second thought, leaving the books behind as he watched the truck make its way further down the street. He might have been able to outrun Richie but never a car.

But then hope sparked when Richie pulled into an empty spot.

Eddie took off before he could think, weaving through people and darting around obstacles until he found himself standing on the sidewalk next to the truck with his chest rising and falling quickly and Richie’s wide, shocked eyes staring back into his. He opened his mouth to speak but Eddie sent him a look and something about it made Richie close it again.

“Why?”

The word hovered between them. Richie looked at a loss for words and Eddie had too many words. He wanted to scream and shout but more than anything, he wanted to know why.

“Cause I was wrong,” Richie finally said, looking defeated. “You were wrong.”

Eddie watched him walk by, knowing that Richie wanted it to end there. But he wasn’t particularly concerned with what Richie wanted right now.

“If you didn’t think I was enough, why didn’t you say it sooner?” he demanded from the other boy’s retreating back.

As Richie stopped in place and turned around slowly, Eddie wiped away hot tears that he didn’t even know had fallen.

“You are more than enough,” Richie said, walking back towards him. “You’re more than I could-”

He cut off, stilling in place just a few short feet away. Eddie closed some of the distance, staring up into his eyes furiously.

“I get it,” he said, his tone scathing. “I’m not strong. I’m weak little Eddie and it’s too much for you to deal with. But the least you can fucking do is say it to my face instead of pulling this shitty disappearing act.”

Richie stepped back, running his hands through his hair as he took a deep breath.

“That is not why,” he gritted out.

“Bullshit,” Eddie spat, turning away.

“You’re not the fucking weak one here!” Richie burst out, drawing Eddie back around.

Like a moth to the flame.

“You…” Richie breathed, approaching him slowly. “You’re so fucking strong, Eds. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for you to pick yourself back up after everything that’s happened but you do it every goddamn day and you call yourself weak which is the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard. Cause I’m not strong, baby. I’m not anything like you. You deserve better and I can’t hold you back just cause I want you.”

Eddie stared up at him with wide eyes.

“You said you weren’t afraid of anything,” he whispered.

Richie let out a laugh and his hands coming up as if he would cup Eddie’s cheeks. But then he stopped.

“I lied,” he said simply, letting his hands drop. “I’ve got fears just like everyone else. I’m afraid of being overlooked and I’m afraid of being forgotten. I’m afraid that one day, my words won’t matter anymore and no one will want to listen. I’m afraid. But I had this gorgeous boy looking at me like I was some sort of fucking miracle and I wanted to live up to that cause guys like me usually aren’t looked at like that. I’m not fearless, Eds. I’m just me.”

Eddie let the words sink in, finally realizing how they’d both brought themselves to this point. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, reaching out to weave his fingers through Richie’s.

“Maybe we don’t need to be fearless,” he said, looking up at him. “Maybe we just need to be us.”

Richie didn’t look convinced even as he swept his thumb in soft circles over the back of Eddie’s hand.

“I keep telling you-”

“Shut up,” Eddie said, reaching up with his other hand to cup the back of his neck.

Richie didn’t resist when he pressed their foreheads together, breathing each other in for the first time in weeks.

“You don’t need to be a flame or a miracle, Richie,” Eddie whispered, the words for him alone. “Just be you. That’s what I need.”

Richie’s body slowly relaxed and he slid his arm around Eddie’s waist, pulling him in closer as he tilted his head down, capturing Eddie’s lips in a gentle kiss. When he pulled away, Eddie’s eyes fluttered open and he looked up at him to see uncertainty and fear mingling in those dark eyes. He didn’t know how he never saw it before.

“I don’t wanna lose you,” Richie said honestly.

“Then don’t,” Eddie said, simple as that. “And Rich?”

“Yeah?”

“Keep making me laugh, okay?”

The corner of Richie’s mouth ticked upwards and he nodded his head.

“That I can do.”

[teenmaximoff]

✵ ― Hard Times

I literally was just trying to sleep because I have to function tomorrow and in the middle of my nap, I was awoken by the devil telling me to write this fic right away. And I sort of got carried away. Also shoutout to me. This is my first Eddie-centric fic. I love my dead gay son so much. i’m going to call out @rememberingtozier​ because look !! I wrote fluff, who knew I could ?!?!

Words ;; 1850 ･ﾟ Pairing ;; Richie Tozier / Eddie Kaspbrak  ･ﾟ  Warnings ;; FLUFF BOYS, Strong language, pot smoking mentioned, an overall gay vibe

❝ — Richie had been crashing at Eddie’s the past week or so. The two had yet to really touch on the fact that Wentworth and Maggie had yelled at Richie to leave and never come back . Eddie hated that he had to see Richie like this. So broken and defeated. He felt like he was unwanted, abandoned. He craved attention so much. It explained why he was the front runner for class clown five years in a row. But Eddie and the losers knew the truth behind all the ‘your mom’ jokes and dick puns. He was all but homeless as of a month ago and still made an effort to make his friends laugh. It was incredible. He was incredible.

Eddie shuffled in the bed, Richie snoring alongside him. He turned to face the window, sun rays cutting through the ivory, plastic blinds. Eddie watched Richie sleep for a few moments. Just taking in the view. Eddie had developed feelings for the trashmouth long ago. He rolled his eyes and got mad when Richie cracked jokes, but Eddie wouldn’t have it any other way. And spending the past seven days sharing a tiny twin bed with the boy only made his feelings grow.

When Richie dropped the bomb that he was not welcome back home, there was nothing but chaos. All the losers yelled over one another, shouting different forms of ‘what the fuck ?!’ at Richie. But he was calm. He waved at them, waiting for them to calm down. He didn’t seem phased. It was not like Richie to want to bother his friends. After the chaos settled, Richie explained himself (to a degree). Not fully explaining the logic behind their huge fight.

Stan took the first session. They were best friends after all. Eddie often thought about that. If Rich and Stan were the closest out of the losers, what did that make them ?? He liked to think him and the curly haired boy got along just a much as him and Stanley. But they always seemed to have these moments where neither of them could cross the line from friendship to something more. An invisible wall of awkward preventing them from making progress. What that progress entailed was still unknown to the two of them.

Richie stayed at Stan’s for about a month, all without papa Uris finding out. Andrea snuck extra food to Stan for Richie and it was going fine for a good amount of time. But the jewish holidays came up, and with family coming in and out, Richie had to move on. Eddie was next. Sonia would flip if a homeless kid was squatting in her home. It was for the best if they kept it all under wraps. Richie climbed through Eddie’s window each night and they stayed shacked up like they used to when they were kids. Eddie couldn’t wait for the rustling outside his window. He counted the minutes after school until he arrived.

Eddie’s alarm went off and Richie’s eyes shot open. Eddie quickly turned to smash the snooze button, so not to look like he was just watching his friend sleep for the past ten minutes. His heart was racing. These thoughts for Richie. Thoughts about snuggling him, holding his hand in public, kissing him were not new. But they were sixteen now and a little too old for crushes. What Eddie felt for Richie was far more than that.

“Five more minutes...” Richie moaned, taking the blanket and pulling it over his head.

“You need to shower before school, mister.” Eddie poked at the hump in the comforter, to which a hand came out and slapped away. Eddie just chuckled, grabbing Richie by the shoulders and shaking him. “Wake up, sleepy head !!” Richie moaned again and this one was so groggy and low, coming from the back of the boy’s throat. It made the hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck stand up. Fuck - it was beautiful sounding and it didn’t help that the noise was coming from a boy in Eddie’s bed. He regained his composure and pulled the covers back, revealing Richie’s speckled back. Since when did he sleep without his shirt on ?? Both tore off their pants before hopping into bed together - that was just normal, because honestly who sleeps with pants on ?? Eddie barely noticed it. He tells himself he barely notices. But the truth was two nights ago, their bare thighs collided in the middle of the night and Eddie nearly had an asthma attack. But this whole sleeping with no shirt on ?? This was very new. New and very alarming.

“Okay! Okay. Eds, I’m awake.” Richie murmured, head stuffed into the pillow. He turned his head to face the shorter boy, gripping the pillow under him, as he yawned. He curled his back up, a disgusting popping noise resonating from the stretch.

Eddie made a disgusted face - as if he wasn’t thinking that Richie’s bare back should be named the new eighth wonder of the world. Richie squinted, rubbing his face before yawning once more. “Ugh, what time is it ??” Richie couldn’t see a thing. Eddie’s room was just a blur of blues.

“Oh - um - seven something -” Eddie squeaked out, having a hard time speaking because Richie was now leaning over him, patting around the end table for his glasses. “You forgot about last night, didn’t you ??”

Richie was out with Bev last night. Eddie could practically smell the weed smell before Richie began giggling outside his window. He would be annoyed, if it weren’t for the fact that Richie was clearly going through a lot and Eddie didn’t want to judge him for coping the only way he knew how. When Ed propped open the window, a wasted Richie tumbled to the floor, a lens from his glasses popping right out and cracking. Richie was way too exhausted to do anything about it right there and then. He started to kick off his pants and buried himself under the covers saying something along the lines of ‘that’s an issue for tomorrow - Eds.’

Richie then picked up the broken frames and sighed, memories clearly re-filling his brain. “Right...Well fuck...” Now Richie was just hovering over Eddie without a care in the world. As if his bare chest wasn’t just there, right in Eddie’s face. It was marvelous in so many ways. The moles and beauty marks that scattered all over his torso, the slight scar he got from jumping off the monkey bars when they were twelve. Even the dumb stick and poke tattoo of the Pythagorean theorem he gave himself on his ribcage while stoned on his birthday four months back. All of it was glorious. Maybe he lingered too long, but could you blame him ?? This was the closest he’s ever been to a near naked Richie in so long. And for sure - not since he started seeing the male form in a - sexual - way. He was just in his boxers and casually sitting on top of him, fiddling with his broken glasses - as if he wasn’t destroying Eddie from the inside out. Then Richie put the glasses back on the end-table, making the effort to lean down again and on his way back up, Eddie and Richie were mere centimeters from kissing. A gasp left the anxiety-stricken boy. “Woah there - Eddie Spaghetti. That was a close one.” He laughed. “No need to stare - I know I can barely see, but I can practically feel you undressing me with your eyes.”

“You’re not wearing any clothes.” Eddie fought back, trying to get the blame off him. Because he was very much staring.

“Yeah. Well.... I was hot last night. Stripped my shirt off...No big deal...”

“You are hot.” Eddie said casually and then the words caught up and he let out a noise that only could be described as a yelp.

“What ?” 

“What ?!” Eddie shadowed, much louder and high pitched.

Then there was this long pause between the two of them. Too long. It was really awkward, Richie couldn’t see Eddie’s panicked stare. He was kicking himself for speaking from his heart. He couldn’t help himself. He was falling for his best friend and you’d have to be as blind as the trashmouth to not see they had chemistry. The fact was the last few years, their friendship seemed to fizzle. Holding hands and pinching cheeks became awkward with age and the two’s puppy love had to be pushed aside. When they were alone, they let some things slip through the guarded cracks, but it still didn’t feel right. Both unsure of one another’s feelings - they were left at this stand-still of cautious touches and concealed feelings. But Eddie had enough. He couldn’t stand watching Richie in udder awe of his beauty and not being able to call him his own. So Eddie, for once in his life - wasn’t afraid. He lifted himself up and grabbed the boy’s cheeks laying a quick kiss to his lips. Richie’s instincts were to reach out and hold up Eddie, both pulling back a slight distance to marvel at each other. 

“You really think I’m hot, Eds ??” Richie joked, but there was a slight lace of serenity there. He had this sweet smile on his features, like he was waiting for this moment as long as Eddie had been. So many people nowadays had been pushing away Richie. He was a burden - having to sneak into his friend’s houses for shelter. He felt like no one wanted him. But Eddie did. And that made the trashmouth feel genuinely happy. A feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. The truth was he was kicked out of his house over a fight about him coming out. He confined in his mother that he was falling in love with his best friend, Eddie. Thinking the drunk wouldn’t even notice what he was saying or remember. But instead Maggie told Wentworth and sparked an all out Tozier screaming match. A fight that ended in Richie being disowned.

“Maybe a little...” Richie was blushing now - Eds probably too. The two attempting to hide their faces. Not like Rich could see. But then Richie leaned back in, kissing Eddie once more. They deepened their embrace, Eddie reaching up to tangle his fingers in the boy’s beautiful curls.

The alarm blared again. Both boys jumping back to stare at the clock. If they didn’t get ready now, they would miss homeroom. Or at least Richie assumed, because he could in no way make out the numbers. A unison sigh fell from both their lips, when they concluded they would have to cut their moment short. The two both laughed, inaudible from the loud barring of the alarm. But in that moment Richie - leaning over to turn off the alarm, letting his lips collide with Eddie once more - never felt more at home.

notes: I guess I could write a part two if people wanted it ?? I’ve got some ideas ;)

[beochanpaiseanagustaifeala]

💖”Star🌠Gazing”💖 Finale

Tommy’s Story

From that moment on, every once or twice a week me and Sanjay (sometimes Jenny would join us) went to Bikini Atoll so he could meet up with Craig and have a good ol’ get-together.

One fateful day, Queen Angelica made a special announcement in the rose garden with a mysterious little chest in her hand, waiting to be opened to all of her knights; raising a hand, I asked her: “What’s inside the box?”

“Good question, Sir Thomas.” she replied back in a-sort-a snarky little tone.

Finally, she talked over near us and opened the chest, revealing little, round, golden badges with each with a huge ruby encrusted right in the middle.

“These will come in handy for your most dangerous threats.” she said in a much nicer tone than before, handing each one to all of us; Sanjay was very stoked, bragging about his status to Spongebob and Patrick and going on and on about how he was gonna rescue them whenever they where in deep slime, then going back to me in private, squealing on how cute and pretty it looked~ that night, me and Sanjay slipped out of the palace and decided to go to (where else?) Bikini Atoll, this time Sanjay planning on giving Craig a small gift consisting of a meat-lover’s pizza and hot wings in a little basket; when we finally arrived in the hotel, Craig (who was probably living there now) greeted us and hugged Sanjay, telling him how happy he is to see him come every week.

“I have a gift for you!” Craig proudly roared with joy.

“Me, too!” Sanjay squeaked.

I could hear the audible “Awww”s from the crowd at the joint, seeing the two birds in such a sweet state; first, Sanjay presented the lunch he brought him, with a smile: “I made you this.”

“For me? aw shucks, thanks dude.” Craig told him, following: “And now, here’s my gift to you.”

He hands Sanjay a small box, kinda like the one Angelica clutched in her hand earlier, the eager boy opened the trinket and found a very rare and exotic treasure: a perfectly round saltwater pearl from the depths of the sea; Sanjay couldn't help but express his gratefulness with tears of happiness.

“It’s absolutely beautiful, Craig...thank you...”

“Sanjay, there’s also a question I’ve been wanting to ask you...”

“What is it?”

Before he could ask his question, two lasers shot out of my badge (Sanjay wasn’t wearing his) and zapped the two boys right in the chests, leaving them in screaming agony and pain and both me and Jenny in shock.

“I’ll get the boys to a hospital immediately, there’s stuff there that can heal you!” Jenny proclaimed as she grabbed the boys and prepared to fly off before another laser could strike at her as I took a quick, suspicious look at my badge and saw Angelica’s face on there, realizing she was spying on us while controlling the lasers just so she could kill her “traitors”! and with that, I take the badge off my shirt, threw it on the ground to stomp on it but before I could do so, one last laser was shot into my left leg and zapped it right off of me, next thing, sure enough: I found myself lying on the ground, screaming in agony.

.................................................?

Much later, I woke up in a small hospital room somewhere, possibly far away from Bikini Atoll, on top of a comfy bed with a drawer and lamp on one side and a vintage TV on the right that was playing Reptar movies, I also felt as if somehow I got my left leg back; I was thinking: "Did Jenny save us?", to find out, I removed the covers to find that I have, indeed, got my leg back but I had no idea how so I got up out of the bed to look for answers, only to feel blood leaking from my leg after a few seconds into leaving the room; I turned around and saw it wasn't typical blood: it was pitch black like squid ink (no offense, Squidward)~ Finally, Jenny appears to clean up the mess and apologize a dozen times, now was my chance to ask her some questions.

"Jenny..." I ask: "...why is my blood black?"

"Tommy, that's not blood: that's an oil leak from the prosthetic leg I gave you."

“Thanks.....wait a minute, you’re a doctor!?”

“Well, yes....you see: my Mom teaching me how to build and create things outside of school inspired me to become a doctor so I could save more lives, especially those who get injured during my fights with the giant monsters I battled in Tremorton, I am a superhero so I thought it would make sense.”

“I see, thank you Jenny....also, where's Craig and Sanjay?"

"They didn't make it" she said, "No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t fix the damage that laser did to the inside of their hearts...I'm so sorry, Tommy." she said as she hung her head in grief.

My jaw dropped, my hands started shaking and my heart boiled with rage aimed at Angelica~ look, I know she's overzealous and prideful but she went far over the line, going as far as to physically hurt me and kill my friends, something even her 4 year old self would have never done and that's when I realized it was too late for her to change, no matter how many times I've tried, she'll always get worse but before I could vent my feelings on that blonde witch, I saw a little girl around Fabian’s age, seated on a chair by the window; she kinda looked like a tinier Sanjay but with pigtails and Craig’s golden eyes.

"Where did the kid come from?" I ask her.

"Well, they asked me a favor, you see: they told me that they always wanted to have a little buddy to have around when Sanjay would be able to move out so their final wish was to see her brought into the world; I couldn't use a DNA sample from either of them since they where already dead so I decided to improvise with some good ol’ mechanics.”

“I wonder if she has a name.”

“Sanjay suggested that they’d name her a name meaning “💖”.”

“What would that be?”

“Lalasa.”

✨

💔

Lalasa’s POV

All this time I could have been living with a couple of very happy people being there for me 24/7 instead of living in a crummy school dorm with no one around and all I could do was hide my face in Tommy’s chest, letting it all out; moments later, I stopped sobbing and we both heard the faint sound of a crowd screaming from outside~ we looked out the window and saw an aircraft carrying out a couple members of the infamous Cartoon Network, as they where panicking like headless chickens; I wonder why?

🌠

Plucky’s POV

“WHY THE HECK DIDN’T YOU THREE CHOOSE THE QUICK-DRY PAINT!?” I roared with all the rage in my body at my so-called “Golden Boys” (more like “Bronze Boys” at this point) as I was trying to find a safe place away from the Dictator and her army.

Eddy back-sassed: “But it was Lumpy over here who picked it out!”

“You shoulda known better and picked out the paint yourself, you pink roach!”

“How dare you call me a roach after all those plans we gave your high and mighty hiney!”

The two of us argued and argued as Angelica and her goons where catching up on us, without any warning, a painted “golden” anvil quickly-as-possible got launched right at my face, booted me out of the craft and lead me into the lake as the craft crashed into a tree; it was about that time she was gonna arrest us~ was this the end of an era for our organization? well, no, not really for I had one more trick up my sleeve....literally! I hid a walkie-talkie in there for a special occasion.

“Do any of you me!?” My break-of-silence caused everyone to get their own out of their compartments and respond.

“Yo, have any backup plans?” Mordecai, my fellow fine feathered friend, replies first.

“See the blimp?”

“Yeah.”

“Is Alpha Quebec still aboard our ship?”

“Waaay ahead of you, dudes.” Amethyst chirps.

“Well, you’re a shape-shifter and you have a whip with a sharp, pointy end~ you have multiple choices so do the math! over and out.” I sign off.

It would not be long before I saw the glorious sight of Amethyst turning into a form familiar to her “Purple Puma” facade, breaking off a sharp, pointy tree branch and then launching it at the blimp’s balloon and making it whiz off into the sunset to the cheering of the other crew members~ we later celebrated our victory at the Cold-Kauss that evening, inviting all the rest of the CN team and our allies at Ghost Planet Industries for an all-nighter’s banquet in honor of our greatest attempt at our brand of Le Parkour.

“Goodness, you must have had a wild night....If I was still serving under you, I would have definitely had my sword handy.” said Jack, noticing the bandages that covered my head from the great fall I had.

“Yeah, but it turned out to be one of our best though! you shoulda seen the look on An-Devil-ca’s face!” I chuckle.

“So who’s paying for all of this?” He asks.

“I made a deal with the three stooges (the Eds): So don’t get fired, Eddy loans me their cash for every time a plan of theirs backfires~ riiiiight Eddy boi?”

Eddy, with a sour look on his face replies: “Yeah yeah, don’t rub it in.” as he gives me another dollar to pay for Jack’s tea.

🌠Thanks for reading!🌠