#god can the gays stop divorcing for two fucking minutes and give me a SECOND.

[bamfwizard]

juno steel and the recipe for disaster: part 1

[2023, colorized]

[neuroticbookworm]

Step by Step Episode 8 Ramblings

Episode 7 Ramblings, here

Put is not even gonna let Pat say his piece? 2 minutes in and I'm already burning mad

"I haven't taken you for granted like before"

"I know, you've been really good to me" Oh Pat, you pathalogical people pleaser

I continue being impressed by this show showcasing how adults do and should handle relationships and everything that comes with it. This must be one of the most realistic breakup scenes in BLs. And it is done without compromising the emotions of the characters. Hats off, really

Jane is wearing two layers of pink. Our resident Tumblr color demon @respectthepetty has taught us that pink = love, so good to know that his feelings has remained unchanged or even intensified from last when we saw him

My god, Khun Jeng looks so fineeeeeeeee

And he's wearing a dark blue shirt underneath his neutral brown jacket. While Pat is in a dark blue cardigan. Interesting

Ohhhhhhh wow Jane is pissed and Jaab is too. The cat fight between these two is gonna be hilarious

Put, you insufferable snake, ya dumped. Stop misrepresenting facts

Jeng, how the fuck did you know? Are you really THAT perceptive?

Oh man, that is the worst takeaway you can ever have from a failed relationship

*jaw dropped* Oh Jeng is going for the jugular. Oh he's done playing games, he wants to fight

Oooooooooof. Put, you manipulative bastard

Oh it's still not over. Oh they're still going, holy shit, this is intense

Is that a threat, about coming out? Seriously, what the fuck

I CAN'T WAIT to read all the body language analyses y'all are gonna write on that scene. Woah, that really was something

Ae and Beam are here!

Well, Ae looks like a goddess, as usual. What else is new?

I love this scene and the commentary that comes with it. Keep your noses out of pregnant people's business, for fuck's sake! How hard is it to have some basic decency?

I love that Tae is calling out how quickly Jeng's mood changes from brooding to giddy and vice versa in this conversation.

We have a new stuffie. The shark is out and the tiger is in. YES I SEE IT AND I LOVE IT

Oh I'm sooo ready for this non-date date. I want the sweet, sweet fluff to drown me. Gimme all the blushing, all the eye contact, all the accidental brushing of fingers, GIVE IT TO ME

OH MY GOD, he planned the whole thing. He had people move chairs out of the way for aesthetics. This complete bitch (affectionate)

GUYS, THE FLIRTING, I know I said I can handle it, but this is too adorable ^^

Jeng just hung up on his brother in a flash, not even waiting for him to respond? Oh that's cold

Oh shit, Pat is drunk, again, Here come the truth bombs

Damn, Man Trisanu is nailing this. He is acting his ass off to show how restless Jeng feels before every almost-confession

This slowburn is gonna kill us all, honestly

Oh we are dancing, oh it's so gloriously awkward, oh make it stop

Jaab, my beloved, I've missed your melodrama. You look like a divorced sugar baby who won half the riches in the settlement, I love it

Jeng tells Pat he can be just a safe space for him, while Pat is sobbing on his shoulder about his ex. All while Jeng has been trying the whole day to confess his own feelings for Pat. Every atom of this man is a green flag, I swear

These drunk disaster gays, I love them so much

Pat, sweetie, no. Please, you must be joking. Don't tell me you didn't know, DON'T TELL ME YOU ARE THAT OBLIVIOUS!

Okay, now Pat has to rethink each and every one of their interactions to see if he has ever misled Jeng, or if Jeng has ever crossed his boundaries. And then recalibrate his feelings with this new information. Yeah, this could take a while.

I'm leaning more and more towards the possibility of a second season, or even a special episode, after the show ends. Because there is no way they can fit all the domesticity these characters deserve within the next couple of episodes.

Ahhhh I can't believe the slowburn is still not over. I love it and I hate it and I'm pretty sure this show has turned me into a sadomasochist.

[stopeatingwhales]

about a girl (pt.2) x kurt cobain

hi guys :) so sorry for my inactivity, but i’m here finally lmaoo, this is a part two to my kurt fic that i wrote about a month ago, due to school its been much harder for me to keep up writing as usual, but i will absolutely try my best to finish your guys’ requests soon! anyways, hope you enjoy this <3 Pairing: pre-bleach era kurt x reader

Warnings: nothing :)

Word count: 2.167

Requested by anon (the second part was my idea, but i felt like i should still credit the anon for giving me the idea for this x) 

༉‧₊˚✧

The wind exhales short, breezy waves as you lay there, engulfed in your dreams. From the night succeeding to your outstanding performance, you were requited to a favourable hibernation which by admiring you, was needed for not only the sum of a few hours. Your solemn features are painted still, the only movement stimulating from your body is heavy breaths accompanied by a light snore from time to time. I question whether it's righteous of me to allow my eyes to adorn themselves in your serene features, yet I simply cannot stop myself. I find it surreal to witness you in such fragility; for all the pain and sorrow you’ve had to experience in your life, it’s almost like you shouldn’t be sleeping in such a tranquillic state. I wonder if you prefer sleeping than being awake, I wonder if you think it’s a chore to get out of bed. Does the world haunt you? Every click, flash, snap of a camera, does it devastate you? The image you portray to the world is magnificent, yet flawed. It’s almost as if you’re hiding something, yet you don’t care what others think of you, so you do whatever you please. My heart skips a beat every time you shift slightly, cradling your body in the duvet. I advert my stare to your arms, sculpted perfectly in God’s chamber, the lankiness of your bones withering an appearance of discrepancy. You’re not like the rest of them. Your steady breaths softly ease in and out of your flawless torso, your hair so impeccable it looks untouched even when you’re shifting around in your slumber - the hair you willingly dyed and strained with a flavoured drink mix. As I admire you, sleeping beauty, it reminds me of how lucky I am to have you in my life - regardless of where we stand. When you’re awake, you’re the only thing keeping me sane during the day; spending even just a day without you would feel as if I had lost my legs, lost what’s kept me steady for all these draining years. In all my time of knowing and understanding you, have you never not known what to say, for you have such a way with words, it's unfathomable. You carry a sort of intelligence that no one can seem to obtain; you speak words out of a bible and it’s ironic I say that, Mr ‘God is gay’, but it’s true. You’re the reason I wake up in the morning. You’re like a hard candy, sweet and delicate, although the texture is very hard making it a burden to get through to you. I want to taste you on my tongue every morning, if you would like me to be honest. I crave for things as little as your scent even before I’ve risen from the cushion. Your grace must be envied by the heavens; there is and will never be anyone as alluring as you, not that I’m surprised. 

As my eyes continue to wander on him, a sudden stretch of his arms and a small groan echoing out of his vocal chords results in my body almost instantaneously sitting up. I watch him as he blinks his eyes a few times, his vision still not clear enough. “Good morning,” he whispers, his arms thrown to the skies; he’s like a baby, reaching out for their mother in the early hours of daylight, moaning and whining for affection, warming my heart with soreful ease. Quickly taking note of the small clock situated beside him that I was aware of for the many hours I had been trapped in thought, it read a bright and early 11am. My stare continues to linger onto him as I watch him shifting around, the heart situated in my upper chest now beating as fast as drum solos in heavy metal songs. A short silence stood in between both presences; I assume that he hadn’t taken note of my pondering state adjacent to him, though was that idea contradicted by his light greeting. “Did you sleep well?” he chirps, now using both palms to rub his what-seemed-like itchy eyes.

Now what is humorous from this scenario is that he asks this as if it means nothing; a simple conversation starter it may be, though, to me it means so much more hearing those light words roll off his tongue, compared to if someone else had said it, even if it was in the exact same moment living right now. A whiff of bad breath hits my face as I laugh lightly, shaking my head in a sort of admiration towards the man lying down ahead of me. He again blinks a few times, now in attempt to adjust the bright scenery to his view. For a couple seconds the room is frozen, Kurt’s alteration in position to sitting up becoming the only sound ringing through both our ears. As I find my gaze glued onto him once again, I subconsciously repeat the question he asked me, this time directed for him. However, from what I’ve seen, I’m certain he slept wonderfully.

A tired chuckle escaped his mouth. “I asked you first,” he mutters, the morning rasp still prominent in his vocal chords. This makes me smile. The raw, genuinity forwards the idea of realism that this moment was actually happening, coming like a pinch snapping someone out of their daydream, though my thoughts will never be known to understand how I was able to spend time with such a man. “I slept well, though.” he adds, a warm smile playing on his lips. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” I answered, my face now being cradled by my palms. 

I now feel the stare of Kurt burn onto my face. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asks, a hint of annoyance laced in his words. “We could’ve stayed up together,” 

A small chuckle breezes out of my nose. How considerate, how caring must you be to, even when you have performed such an exasperating gig, stay awake with me because of one night of my mind’s continuous ambles? For all I know, Kurt wouldn’t sleep for days if it meant I would be in absolute glee. It’s those sorts of traits in those who are lost which draw you towards them becoming the significant other to stay with for life. It’s that sense of attachment, connection you hold with someone, so strong that you would give up the roof over your head if it meant a smile to be drawn on their face. ”You looked so peaceful in your sleep,” I replied, staring directly into his loveable eyes, the shade of blue brightening as the sunlight melted onto his face. His hair was now a little more messier compared to how it was less than ten minutes ago, and the urge of me running my fingers through his golden locks only seemed to grow even more as time passed on. For a moment I decided to hold back my words, inhaling sharply to gain composure to my fatigued state. “I didn’t want to disturb you,” 

Kurt sighed - knowing that he needed sleep more than anything, though a hint of sadness dwindled in his stomach, his mind conflicted from the idea of me drowning in worry as I tended to do when I couldn’t sleep. Reaching his arm towards the table sat beside him, his fingers got lost in between the opened packet of cigarettes that slept reverently on the white wood, grabbing a random one at choice before placing it in a loose grip between his lips. With the known information that you need a torch to light a cigarette, I threw the one I had on his lap, a small laugh escaping my lips for no apparent reason. Actually no, there was a reason. “Who the fuck smokes first thing in the morning?”

Before he torched the lighter, he stopped, his piercing blue eyes locking in contact with mine. “Me, I do,” 

Another laugh tempted to flee itself from my throat, yet I held it back. If you would’ve said that to me the first night I met you, in that small, cramped room, littered with amps that Krist had dragged me into going in to listen to your material, I would’ve scoffed at your blown attitude towards such a random question. Watching you now as you’re admiring the cancer stick with pure attachment, my mind begins to wander over such a topic. I look at you and see a troubled, young kid who just wants love and affection because he seemingly never got enough from the people who designed his childhood; for you haven’t grown up since then. Perhaps in size and features, yes (and definitely the fact that children do not smoke), but hidden inside you is the same boy that was hidden away all those years ago - following onto your parents’ divorce. You say you’ve never been happy since then, you’ve never been able to think optimistically, and maybe you haven’t. Maybe the smile you give to me isn’t genuine; with continuous assurance I’ll consider it to be. Maybe I’ll never heal those bruises that were once your only source of living, and that’s okay, if you’re able to cope with the imprints. If you’re the Kurt Cobain that prefers smoking than having a normal breakfast, so be it; I’d give up my heart for you, and if anything, you’ve already stolen it. Words merely brush the surface of my adoration for you, and sometimes I believe that I’m just lying to myself, that nothing I’m saying in my head is true. Yet, as every minute, every second passes throughout the day, even in silent, contented situations with ceilings bright as yellow from the smoke like these, everything I say to myself simply strengthens in morality. My sweet, you deserve more than one could wish for. You deserve things that this world cannot give you, yet all you believe is that you are worthless. If only you saw yourself in my eyes, maybe then you’d realise, realise the impact you’ve sincerely doused onto me and my mind, you’ve got the moves to empower a generation and perhaps hundreds more - even if you don’t see that yet. 

“Give me one,” He hands me one, the strong gusts of cloud escaping his mouth creating a want for the rough substance to coat my throat in brutal ways; even if it’s slowly murdering me. It was a murderous addiction, nicotine, yet it kills us all, our addictions; and we are too blinded by the goodness it seemingly overshadows what we force to neglect in our minds - the bad in it all. We become so unbelievably enthralled by the pain we choose to accept it; we believe it is favourable, not disastrous and catastrophic. Drugs are frowned upon dearly, as they should be, but once you’re stuck, it takes more than simple courage to escape out of the deadly grip it chokes you in. Placing the cigarette in between my lips, identical to how he had just done, I reached my arm out to obtain the lighter that was in my clutch merely seconds ago, swiftly lighting it with one hand. As I breathed out the first tar-filled cloud from my cigar, I fixed my gaze onto him once again, sucking in my top lip as I allowed the droplets of ash fall onto my shirt. “I know I always say this,” I began as I studied his features, trying to identify any solemn, unpleasant emotions, noticing that there was none at all for the time being. “You’re going to make it big one day, I’m now for certain you’re going to take over the world,”

His eyes now locked into mine, a short chuckle leaving his throat as he blew out an even bigger gust of smoke. “I don’t want that,” 

Smiling, I took hold of my cigarette and inhaled deeply, holding it in my mouth until my body was unable to carry on without oxygen for longer - not that the air in the room was even oxygen; it was more corrosive chemicals than anything else, yet we’ve become so dependant on a small roll of tobacco to guide us to a path of slow death, its unnoticable. I watched as Kurt’s eyes drifted on to admire the elusive sunlight gleaming through the window, the whiffs of grey contrasting the happiness that was attempting to journey itself into the silent room. No matter how many times I may tell, his belief that he will never be as big as acts like the Sex Pistols will empower over anything I endevour on to phrase. It was inevitable though, whether he dreamt of it or not, that they will be big, bigger than anything they’ve ever seen. The path bridging onto it may cause destruction, heartbreak, and even more addiction, but the future is never in our hands - only until it is close enough for the present to capture it. Time is simply a mantelpiece, the light eventually burns out when there’s not enough coal to keep it going. You continue to refill it as the days go by until you simply cannot any longer, which is what all youths fear and avoid. Surprisingly enough, Kurt wasn’t one of the many crowds in devastating apprehension; he wanted to burn out more than anything else, for there were only small things keeping him going, or perhaps he was waiting for a longer, more agonizing death, hence the many packets of cigarettes vanished in a day.

There was nothing left to say in the room; there was no need for a response - it was only going to result in the same bicker as it resulted in many a time. The room, now physically undergoing a change in colour from the smoke, held a significant ambience, one so serene it left you more relaxed than the aftermath of a crazy high in drug use, though sometimes the relaxation is more pain than anything else. Even when my mind was so consumed in ideation earlier in the morning, my thoughts were louder than ever in this given moment. My mind was mulled over the concept of Kurt and stardom. He would never like it, nor does he even want it. It’s humorous to an extent; how much authenticity can one acclaim, to not even look up to the sugar-coated concept called ‘fame’? You’re not like the others. You don’t want fame, you want to create music. And in all honesty, I wish I lie through my teeth whenever I mumble those encouraging words of how you’re going to make it big; I can’t stand the idea of losing you, but like I said, it's inevitable, one day simple moments like these will just be memories to look back on when you’re old and laughing about your previous attachment to drugs. Maybe you won’t look back on times like these however, maybe you’ll remember the more vivid, buzzing moments like your first gig as Nirvana, and maybe I won’t remember this either, maybe these moments aren’t to be remembered, to be lived in instead. If only you knew how much I loved you, would you be surprised that I haven’t ruined my life because of it. You mean more to me than the stars mean to the night sky, more than a memory means to a person’s mind. It hurts my heart knowing I can’t heal you, though I dream that one day, you’ll wake up, just like you did today, turn to me and say, ‘I’m happy,’ because that’s all I ever dream of you to be.

[turkisherlockian]

Books and Sins | Chapter Two [Benedict Cumberbatch AU]

Hello everyone! I'm Cer but you might remember me as @rosamundhr a.k.a. Rosamund, it was my nickname but I've changed my mind and I will use my own name Ceren, now. (Cer for short hehehe) Unfortunately I lost access to @rosamundhr so I will keep posting my stories here! I hope you enjoy it and I apologise for making you all wait for so long! Love you all, stay safe. 😸❤️

Summary: Katherine is a fan of Timothy Carlton, the writer who she knows nothing about. No photos, no interviews, no information, not even his age. And one day, a man comes into her life who claims to be her classmate from high school. But through the time, she has a gut feeling something is... Wrong.

Warnings: Mature content, self harm, violence, swearing.

Word count: 1855

Feedbacks are much appreciated and so motivating!

Chapter One

---

  Katherine woke up with a weird feeling inside her chest. She was mad at herself for being like this: She could like someone so easily and fall in love with them soon after. It was not her fault though, he was really charming. Too good looking to like her back. However, she tried to convince herself that she just liked him and was attracted to him because he was a writer and well... Handsome as fuck. Not to mention his gentlemanly behaviour. Taking a deep breath, she reached out for her phone to tell her best friend about it. She didn't really have lots of friends and she never complained about it, she liked solitude.

  She scolded herself for being that excited about the thought of seeing him again. He was the very first thing that was on her mind in the morning and she wanted to talk to him again. So badly.

  K: Morning!

  S: Morning to you too 🤣

You're texting me 'morning' since when?

  K: Stop being sarcastic. Can't I be nice to my best friend?

  S: Of course you can, I'm kidding. I just wondered what made you this cheerful... Or who, I should say.

  K: You know who.

  S: Oh do I?

  K: Come on, Samantha! The man I met yesterday. I can't get him out of my mind, I don't know what happened to me but he's like... Cigarette.

  S: You're smoking? Since when???

  K: Of course I don't! It was just an example, idiot. Just can't get him out of my mind. What do I do?

  S: Text him maybe?

You won't seem desperate, don't worry. I am sure he found you attractive as well and he might even be in love with you.

  K: Okay, no need to exaggerate.

What do I say, good morning or hi?

  S: It doesn't matter!

  K: Okay, I'll text you later.

Are you sure I won't seem desperate?

  S: JUST TEXT HIM FOR GOD'S SAKE!

  K: OKAY I WILL!

  S: Don't forget to tell me about it. I gotta go now, talk to you later. xxx

  K: Bye! ❤️

---

There was something different about him. Did she like him because he was attractive or because he was nice to her? She had to admit that he was attractive, but there was something else in his voice, in his looks, in the way he talked. She actually found him beautiful.

  Taking a deep breath, she finally decided to text him.

  K: Good morning. :)

  Was he still asleep? Maybe he was at work. Wait, do writers go to work? Maybe he had another job. Maybe not. Maybe he just did not want to talk to her... Why wasn't he replying?!

  She sighed in frustration as she took a big sip from her coffee and burned her tongue.

  B: Morning, Katherine.

How are you? :)

  He finally replied after 10 minutes. She bit her lip as her heart skipped a beat, and started typing.

  K: I'm good! Getting ready to go to school.

  K: I mean work.

  God, I'm an idiot, she thought.

  K: How about you?

  B: Just got out of shower, that's why I replied late by the way. Sorry about that. :)

  K: I was wondering if you would like to meet again sometime.

  She grinned as she bit her lip, that's what she always did when she was nervous or excited.

---

  K: I would love that! When will you be free?

  B:I'm always available for you.

Whenever you'd like. :)

  She started squealing in excitement. What did he just say?!

  K:I'm free in the afternoon.

  B: Wonderful. How about the café we met?

  K: Sounds good. Is 2PM okay for you?

  B: Yes. I am looking forward to it, Katherine.

  K: So am I. :)

I gotta go now, see you later. x

  B: Have a good day. See you. x

  She looked at her watch and she was 30 minutes late already. Without telling Samantha about it, she started to get ready in a hurry.

  She was never late for work, so no one was upset with her being late.

---

  ''...And my mum said I'm out of my mind!''

  Katherine just could not get him out of her mind, and she hated it. She did listen to her counselee but couldn't pay any attention, and now she was crying. She gave her a tissue, ''I understand you, Jane, and I hope telling me about it made you feel better. I know how difficult it is for you, but I have a suggestion. When I was your age, I found a way to deal with my problems: being your own counselor.'' She smiled warmly.

  ''My own counselor? How?'' The young girl sniffled.

  ''I imagined that I was told about everything I am going through, and I had to find them a way out. Think of it as if you're reading your life in third person of view. I did it for years and I still do when I don't want to tell people about my feelings. Plus, I found out that it was scientifically proven in college, so it is safe and it actually works. How does that sound?''

  She wiped her tears, ''I can try...''

  ''So tell me, what would you say to yourself if you were someone else?''

  ''I think I would say that maybe..." She sniffled, "Maybe her mother wasn't feeling good as well.''

  Katherine smiled, ''That's it! You are right. We all have problems that we don't want to tell the others and sometimes we might burn out on people we care about the most without being aware of it. You can ask your mother if she is feeling alright, it doesn't matter whether you are still upset with her or not; maybe you can help her as well just like you just helped yourself. That was very brave of you, in my opinion.'' She smiled wholeheartedly.

  The girl who was just crying smiled and said ''Thank you very much, Miss Daelan. It's going to be the first thing I'm gonna do when I'm home.''

  ''You're welcome. Feel free to talk to me anytime.'' She got up to open the door for her and then left the room as well before checking her phone.

3 new messages from Samantha

  S: Hey! Send screenshots!!!

Are you there?

Kath!

  K: I'm sorryyyy I was late to work already and then forgot to text you.

Here you go:

*screenshots*

  S: I told you that he liked you as well, he is flirting with you!

  K: No he's not!

  S: He adores you!

  K: You are really exaggerating.

  ''Miss Daelan, do you have a minute?'' Katherine looked up at the principle, "Yes, Mr Brealey."

  K: The principle wants to talk to me, I'll ttyl xxx

  S: What did he say?

  The old man opened his room's door for Katherine, she smiled and walked inside. He gestured her to sit down, "Please, have a seat." he said and closed the door. After sitting down, he cleared his throat and said "Miss Daelan, I... Erm..."

  He loosened his tie, couldn't dare to look at Katherine. His cheeks were red and there was a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. The young woman frowned a little, listening to him in curiosity. "I've known you since the day you started working here and... I must say that you are the most intelligent, kind, beautiful woman I have ever seen... I can't take my eyes off you because you're an amazing woman and I... I love you."

  Katherine was shocked, didn't know what to say at first. She did not feel honored at all, she was disgusted. "Excuse me? I thought you were married!"

  "Yes but I don't love my wife, I'm going to divorce her soon; you must understand Miss Daelan, I love you! Please give me a chance..." And now she felt her blood boil in her veins.

"I am sorry but it's never gonna happen. I suggest you to divorce your wife as soon as possible to keep her away from an asshole like you." Katherine stood up angrily and walked towards the door, "But Miss D--" and she shut the door.

  K: FUCKING HELL!

He said he loves me!

He's fucking married, Samantha!

*seen*

Are you there?

*seen*

  K: I guess you are busy

I'm going home to get ready, talk to you later xxx

  S: Sorry, I had to deal with a costumer

What a prick!!!

How dare he?

I want to kill him.

  K: Violence is never the answer but yeah, I pity on his wife to be honest. He even has children.

ANYWAY

WHAT AM I GOING TO WEAR?

S: Whatever you're comfortable with. :)

  K: How about a dress?

The one I wore when we last met?

  S: You look so hot in it 🔥

Wear that one!

  K: It covers all of my body, it's kinda tight and there's NO WAY I can look hot in it. I don't want to look pretentious anyway.

  S: Anything you wear looks good on you, love!

  K: Gay. 🤭

  S: Shut up. Wear it!

  K: LOL sorry!

I gotta go nowww

  S: Tell me all about it when you're home, IF you go back home ;) Good luck!

  K: I WILL and thanks! ❤️

  The young woman sighed as she tried to find her keys. She was still mad at the principal and it was frustrating her.

  After a short shower, she dried her hair with a towel and let her curls down on her shoulders. She wore the dress and looked in the mirror, It actually looks good, she thought. After applying some makeup and wearing her favourite her perfume, she was ready. She didn't like to wait and hated making the others wait for her as well, so she left her flat at 1:30PM. It took her 15 minutes to get to the café and she realized that she wasn't the only one who was punctual.

  "Hi..." She said as she walked towards the man she couldn't get out of her mind. He was wearing a brown jumper with beige trousers and she breathed his masculine, minty cologne in. Her heart was beating faster already.

  "Oh, hi, Katherine!" He stood up and for one second she didn't know what to do. Should she shake his hand or kiss his cheek? Or hug him? The young man leaned down and kissed her cheek before hugging her, she was shaking inside.

  He felt her body close to his. He felt her delicate, pale skin; and her linden scent made him feel dizzy. Her arms hugged his chest and he felt her plump, beautiful breasts. He watched her dress tighten around her curves as she moved.

  She was so beautiful and he could barely keep his hands to himself. He could kiss and take her right there, but didn't. He had to control himself until she submitted to him, which wasn't going to take long because it was in her blood. Submitting, obeying, and being his. He just knew it, and he was going to take what belonged to him. Katherine, belonged to him.

---

Chapter Three

Please let me know what you think! ❤️

[theres-a-goldensky]

32 Reddie Fic Recs

In honor of the joy I feel in finally getting out of this miserably terrible fucking year of my life, I thought I’d do something fun and make up a list of Reddie fic recs, since this has fandom has taken over my life recently. Strap in, friends. This is gonna be a long one.

These recs are in the order in which I read them. 

As ever, feel free to reblog and check out my other rec lists for the following fandoms:

IT chapter 2 list part two - Reddie

Good Omens fic

The Untamed list one and two - various pairings, mostly Wangxian

Various BL Series fic (fandoms: Love By Chance, TharnType, 2Moons series, My Engineer, Until We Meet Again, 2gether, History3: Trapped)

Or just head over to my bookmarks on AO3.

All fics are Reddie, all are complete.

** - denotes personal favorite

1. first love / late spring by vowelinthug - ~36,000 words, explicit - They both survive It, but not without some injuries, both physical and psychological. Richie takes Eddie to a secluded cabin to help him recover. And then they accidentally make a podcast. Nice slowburn, a good Richie characterization. I liked the conversations between the two of them, in particular one about Richie’s disdain for shoes that was pitch perfect.

The doctor’s evil eye is on both of them now. “Your friend is gonna be fine. Broken collarbone and a lot of blood loss, but the arm stays on, for now anyway.” Probably at the way Richie sags in relief so hard he groans in pain, the doctor stops looking so severe. “He’s a tough guy. I’ve never seen anyone regain consciousness from that much blood loss just to give me a full medical history.”

“Oh my god,” says Richie, covering his mouth. “I like him so much.”

Bill pats his shoulder in sympathy.

2. the fireworks that go off when you smile by zach_stone - ~10,000 words, teen - Post-movie the adult Losers, including Stan, go on a vacation together. There’s just lots of Richie staring at a wet, shirtless Eddie and pining.

Richie blinks at him, his stomach doing a fucking somersault, pinned under Eddie’s weirdly passionate stare. He swallows another mouthful of beer to stall for time, shifting his gaze away. Spread out before him, the lake looks like flat, black glass. “Jeez, is the risk analyst really telling me to ignore the risks? What’s the world coming to?” he manages to joke.

He expects Eddie to roll his eyes, to huff and lean away again, but he doesn’t. He says, still earnest, “I just think some things are worth the risk.”

And Richie doesn’t know  what  the fuck to do with that. He resolutely tells himself not to puke on Ben and Beverly’s porch, because he thinks if he did it would just be the words  I love Eddie Kaspbrak a hundred times over, all puddled on the slats of wood. He stands up rather abruptly. “I should go to bed,” he says, aware that he’s talking too loud, being too fucking obvious. “I’m jetlagged as fuck. Also maybe a little drunk.”

3. oh, i want the truth to be known by ShowMeAHero - ~7000 words, explicit - Richie sees Eddie die in the deadlights and then manages to save him at the last second, but It skewers him instead. I’m honestly not sure why there isn’t more fic with this premise, because Richie sacrificing his own safety for Eddie and then Eddie losing his shit is absolutely, 100% my jam.

The claw isn’t in Eddie’s chest. Instead, it’s in Richie’s, caught in his side, pinning him to the ground. He chokes on a scream, caught in his throat, and pushes at Eddie, just trying to get them away. He rolls into him, ripping Pennywise’s claw through his side to get away, but once he’s free, he’s scrambling into a half-stumble and dragging Eddie with him until they’re hidden under an outcropping of rock. His side is bleeding, he can feel it, and his entire fucking abdomen hurts, and, for a moment, it’s all he can process.

“Holy shit, Richie,” Eddie exclaims. The pain shuffles to the back of Richie’s mind so he can focus on Eddie instead. He sounds winded, but he’s fucking alive, unhurt and breathing and okay, and Richie huffs a laugh. He’s in so much fucking pain, but he can’t even figure out where it’s all originating from, and the only thought cycling through his brain is it’s okay, he’s okay, Eddie’s okay, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, over and over.

4. we'll be a fine line (we'll be alright)  by buckyjerkbarnes - ~9,000 words, teen - Richie and the other Losers in the hospital after killing It, waiting for news on Eddie. Richie has a bit of a breakdown.

The ambulance ride had been the longest twenty minutes of Richie’s life. He'd tried not to get in the way of the EMTs who worked frantically to keep Eddie alive; who were far more patient with him than Richie likely deserved. By the time they'd rolled up to the emergency entrance at the hospital, Ben stamping his breaks as the rest of the Losers came to a grinding halt not fifteen yards away, Richie was still a sobbing mess. He couldn't see through the cracked lens of his glasses, and when Eddie, who had not opened his eyes or said a word since they were still in the sewers, was about to be wheeled out of sight, Richie made like a battering ram and lunged towards the pair of swinging doors.

“Sir!" An orderly yelped. "You can’t—!"

And Stan, who had materialized at Richie's elbow, told the orderly: "He's the husband."

5. ** It’s Hard to Tell Sometimes by gallopingmelancholia - ~21,000 words, explicit - Eddie divorces his wife and moves to LA to live with Richie. Richie promptly has like five emotional meltdowns over it. So much pining. So much. This is one of very few that has Eddie in the hospital for a realistic amount of time, which I appreciate. When writers have been hoping out of bed after a day or whatever, it really throws me out of the story.

“When can we see him?” Mike asks.

“He’s asleep, but we’ll send in a nurse when he wakes up. I wouldn’t expect it until tomorrow morning at the earliest. He’s been through quite a lot, eleven hours of surgery, and is on a lot of pain medication.”

“Will he survive? What’s the percentage? He’ll want to know the probability, he’s a risk analyst,” Richie says.

The doctor hesitates. “The chances he makes it through the night are 65%.”

“That’s not bad!” Richie says even as his heart drops to somewhere in the region of his feet. The others look at him pitifully. “Tell him we’re here and we love him. Tell him the Losers are here and we’ll see him soon.”

6. ** it’s a nice day to start again by eddiespaghetti (foxwatson) - ~6000 words, teen - Post-movie, Eddie wakes up one morning to discover that Richie and a woman had a shotgun wedding in Vegas the night before. Great, sad-but-trying-not-to-show-it Eddie here. (And yes, Richie is a total disaster gay who marries a woman on a whim.)

 “Are you sitting down?”

 “I didn’t even get out of bed yet! Bev please just tell me what the fuck is happening.”

 “Sorry, I’m sorry. Just- Richie got married.”

 “What? No he didn’t,” Eddie scoffs, throwing the covers off. “I’m not - he’s not even dating anybody, I see him all the time. It’s probably just a big joke or something, that’s-”

 “He got married, in Vegas. It’s all over Twitter, and he- he sent pictures to the group chat last night. She’s some other comedian. None of us have ever met her, he didn’t invite any of us.”

7. Oh, But He Makes You Laugh by MellytheHun - ~9,000 words, mature - Teenage Eddie has to deal with some serious jealousy when a new friend enters their group. This one has a good, slow realization on Eddie’s part.

The boy is in their grade, though not part of their social sphere; he’s nearly as tall as Richie, with light eyes, and walnut colored hair. Eddie recognizes him from his AP bio class, but can’t inwardly recall his name.

The boy nods toward Stanley while keeping eye-contact with Richie, and informs him, “alligators - they can grow up to twenty feet.”

Richie opens his mouth to argue with the new kid, but he’s cut off.

“Which is weird, cause they usually only grow four.”

Eddie watches in abject bewilderment as a hearty, genuine laugh ��is startled out of Richie.

8. Richie Tozier: Pray Away the Gay by QueerOnTilMorning - ~4,500 words, teen - The official transcript of Richie Tozier’s comeback Netflix special. A lot of writers try to do Richie’s stand-up routine, but not many can nail it. This one feels realistic and contains actual, like, jokes and stuff.

Because I grew up in this little town called Derry, Maine--nope, absolutely not, do not cheer for that. Fuck Derry! I had this friend, for years he thought I was lactose intolerant, because he'd mention dairy and I'd be like "fuck Derry! Derry tried to fucking kill me!" No, I can eat cheese, I just hate my hometown. They did not fuck with the gays, in Derry. That's probably why I dress so shitty. It's a survival thing. I was already super into dudes. If I had developed fashion sense on top of that? No. Oh my God. It was so--I was so fucking scared all the time.

 And like, to put this in perspective, has anyone ever heard of Henry Bowers? Any true crime fans in the house? Henry Bowers, the baby serial killer? Yeah, you listened to that podcast! My friend Bill was on that podcast, doesn't he have a sexy voice? Anyway, Henry Bowers, also known very creatively as The Derry Killer, murdered a bunch of kids the summer we were thirteen. I say we, because that dude was in my fucking class. There was an active serial killer in Derry during my childhood and still, still my greatest fear was that someone would find out I was gay.

9. RICHIE TOZIER IS...THE COMEBACK CLOWN by owlinaminor & tinypersonhotel - ~11,500, teen - An excellent multimedia fic about Richie’s life with Eddie post-movie.

While Richie Tozier never stops talking, Eddie Kaspbrak never stops moving. Listening to a conversation between the two men is akin to watching a pinball machine with two balls going at once, slamming into each other and the walls and the levers and each other, lighting up their surroundings in a trance as mesmerizing as it is chaotic. (Kaspbrack laughed when I told him this metaphor—apparently Tozier spent many an afternoon at the town arcade when they were kids.)

Over the course of one twenty-minute walk with their dog, a beagle named Stanley, through their L.A. neighborhood, they manage to call off their engagement, call it back on, invite me, uninvite me, call the engagement off again, debate eloping, call the whole thing back on but disinvite everyone except me, and finally agree on what color napkins to have at the reception.

10. ** The Jenga Dream Date by stitchy - ~15,000 words, explicit - Richie and Eddie domestic fluff that starts at Ben and Bev’s wedding. It feels so sweet, and you can just see the happiness radiating off the screen. This is truly the ending they deserve.

Then a seriously, unbearably cute thought occurs to Richie. A thought he can’t immediately share with Eddie, because Bill and Mike each independently cornered him and made him swear not to steal Bev and Ben’s thunder.

Ah, fuck it.

“I can’t think why we would possibly be in another situation in the near future where there’s dancing but also my mother is there for some reason, but holy shit, Eds! I have got to see you dance with Mom. During this very special situation. For which I will make hand calligraphed invitations and hire a photographer and-”

Eddie’s eyes dart in either direction before he lets out a short, slightly hysterical laugh. “Uhhh, I  also have no idea when or why that would happen, or what sort of event that would be appropriate for.”

11. Bad Parts In by 50artists - ~9,000 words, not rated - It’s Richie that ends up in the hospital after it all goes down, and Eddie who has the crisis. And also some serious misapprehensions.

"I feel like Richie might be  slightly  weirded out," Eddie says dryly. "Like oh, hey, we've not spoken for decades and you're the straightest man I know, but it turns out I have been subconsciously in love with you since we were teenagers. I dunno, might make things a bit awkward."

"I'm sorry," says Beverly, "just to clarify, Richie Tozier is the straightest man you know?"

"Dude, have you seen his comedy? It's all, 'I love fucking chicks while drinking beer and watching football'."

"You mean the material that Richie doesn't write himself?'

12. ** We Found Love in a Chili’s ToGo by Amuly - ~14,000, explicit - Richie confesses his feelings to Eddie in the airport before they both headed back to their own lives. This is such a lovely story about friendship and love and putting yourself back together. And there’s some A+++ phone sex.

“Nah, Eds. It’s because I had a big gay crush and needed Stan to bitch at about it.”

Eddie frowned, then shook his head. “That doesn’t explain why you couldn’t bitch at me about it.”

“Well bitching about your secret crush to your secret crush is generally frowned upon, Eds. Kinda fucks up the ‘secret’ part.”

Eddie, bless his tiny heart, didn’t get it for a second. His expression scrunched up, about to say something stupid back to Richie, when his brain processed Richie’s words. In a second his expression fell open, jaw actually agape.

“Oh look: drinks!” Richie grabbed his marg, licking and drinking without even letting the waitress set it down onto the tabletop. Eddie barely had the courtesy left to let her set his down before he was grabbing at it.

13. ** Ask Me About My New Material by twoseas - ~7,000 words, explicit - I could read 10,000 stories about a confused and horny Eddie jerking it to Richie’s stand up without understanding why before they meet again in Derry. This one has a great Richie, who reacts like he got hit in the face with a bat when the truth comes out.

In the restaurant, as the gong resounded around them, Eddie looked up at a four-eyed, messy, middle aged Trashmouth and suddenly it all clicked.

 He had two thoughts.

Oh, he realized, it’s because I’m in love with the dumbass.

And, Aw fuck.

14. No Parenthesis by pineapplecrushface - 13,000 words, explicit - In the deadlights, Stan gives Richie some instructions on how to bring him back. Spoilers: it involves an orgy. And Richie and Eddie dealing with their feelings.

“Okay,” Mike said, holding his hands out to placate him, and honestly Richie was really fucking sick of Mike saying crazy shit and then somehow—somehow!—convincing them to do it anyway. “I’m not saying we have to do it. I’m just saying, the ritual exists and we could do it, and now that it’s out there, I feel like you should all have the choice.”

“Great. I choose no. I’m fucking leaving before I get ritualed into giving all my money to a cult leader and I end up spending the rest of my sad short life on an alpaca farm,” Richie said, standing up too fast and stalking across the room.

“Richie,” Bev said, and she sounded, unbelievably, like she was not thinking this was completely insane.

“Are you fucking serious?” He whirled around to look at them. They were all giving him varying levels of Richie, be reasonable, which was a look he was familiar with, but not when it came to sex rituals, for some fucking reason.

15. ** Stupid Deep series by anonymous - ~50,000 words, explicit - Richie has a huge dick, and Eddie is obsessed with it. Come for the super, super hot sex, stay for the sweet romance, twist of angst and happy ending.

It’s been five months since then, and Eddie has spent at least 40% of that time thinking about Richie’s big fucking dick. He spends about 20% working from home, 20% arguing with Richie about dumb shit, and the remaining 30% sleeping—this adds up to 110%, but that’s because there’s overlap between the sleeping and the thinking about Richie’s huge dick in the form of extremely graphic dreams.

He thinks about Richie’s dick in the shower. He thinks about Richie’s dick when they’re watching TV together. He thinks about Richie’s dick when he’s trying to eat breakfast. He hasn’t even seen it hard. But god, he thinks about it. Thinks about it hot and thick in his hand, thinks about it twitching as Eddie strokes it, thinks about it stretching his lips, thinks about it leaking precum all over Eddie’s fingers and tongue and stomach. And, most importantly—most vividly—he thinks about Richie’s dick inside of him, filling him up, fucking him.

At the same time, Eddie also spent a good amount of time, woven through the rest of his daily activities, falling so deeply in love with his best-friend-cum-roommate that it was disturbing at best. There was pining. There were lingering glances. There was lying on Richie’s bed while he was out just to ease the ache in his chest with Richie’s warm, familiar scent, which is disgusting and Eddie hates to think about it. There were, in Eddie’s darkest moments, daydreams about Richie holding his hand and kissing him and telling Eddie he’s in love with him. Like a fucking sap.

16. I’m quite alright hiding today by remusjohn - ~7,000 words, explicit - Eddie kisses Richie out of the deadlights, but Richie doesn’t know if that means anything.

On the first night they don’t do much of anything. They unpack (well, Eddie unpacks his massive bags while Richie tries to figure out how to sign in to his Netflix account on the tiny TV in the living room), and they order in, and they argue over what to watch while they’re eating, and Eddie falls asleep some hours later with his head tucked into Richie’s shoulder, and Richie tries not to think too much of it.

There’s been a lot of that, the last couple of days. Richie doesn’t know how to say, You kissed me to wake me up from the deadlights and I don’t know if you did it to save my life or if there’s something else too, but it’s kind of killing me, man.

So Richie doesn’t say anything at all.

17. Haunt Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me by Vulcanodon - ~20,000 words, explicit - AU where Eddie and Richie are ghost hunters who get stuck in a very trippy haunted house. This concept really shouldn’t work, and I’m not big on AUs in the fandom, but the relationship between the two of them really sells it. And, obviously, the pining. There’s so much.

The only time Eddie has ever witnessed Richie freaking out was when they had been fucking about in the woods near Montana for their werewolf episode. Eddie had been walking backwards, trying to get Richie and a creepy footprint in frame when he had suddenly felt nothing but air behind him. He had fallen for an impressively long time down the hill, blacking out briefly when a branch caught his head and when he came to Richie had been leaning over him, white and frantic, hands all fisted up in Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie, Eddie, Eds, Richie had said, nearly crying. Are you alright, can you talk?

Is my camera broken? Eddie had managed woozily to say, and for a moment Eddie had thought Richie might do something crazy like slap him or even kiss him.

He hadn’t done either in the end and Eddie remembers the disappointment, even with the haze of a mild concussion.

18. Five Times The Losers Gave Richie Permission by toomuchrootbeer -  ~11,000 words, mature - Each loser tries to let Richie know that they know in their own special way.  

“No I don’t mind,” Stan says evenly, shrugging his shoulders like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “I don’t mind any of it.”

“Cool,” Richie chirps, grabbing his backpack off of the grass and pushing himself to his feet. “Pip pip Edward,” he calls. “Shall we endeavor to find you a cleaner wardrobe?”

“Fuck you,” Eddie says back, but there is no venom behind his words.

But then Stan is reaching out, gripping Richie’s arm, “Dude what are you-”

“I don’t mind any of it, Tozier,” he repeats, voice lower and his words somehow more weighty, fixing Richie with an indecipherable look. “And I don’t think any of the other Losers would mind it either. If you wanted to,” he jerks his head in the direction of Eddie, “you know.”

19. String Theory by neverfaraway - ~17,000 words, mature - Richie starts slowly regaining his memories and has a disturbing experience in the deadlights.

The thing is, Richie knows this is a version of himself and Eddie that never existed. He can taste the pretence on the tip of his tongue, but the sticky air seems to sharpen and solidify around him. He can’t remember where he was before this moment, watching his fingers alight on the buckle of Eddie’s hundred-dollar belt.

The Voice wavers and Richie comes pouring through the cracks. It's painful to watch the careful way he places his hands on Eddie’s skin. "Fuck, I missed you," he says. "Even when I couldn't remember, I had a hole right through me, straight through the middle. You left a fucking entry and exit wound."

"Damnit, Richie," Eddie mutters, blinking rapidly. "Beep, beep."

20. hoping to be found by eddiespaghetti (foxwatson) - ~25,000 words, mature - Things don’t magically work out after Derry for Eddie. He doesn’t know what else to do, so he goes back to Myra and his depressig life. But at least now he has his friends. He has Richie.

With his memories back now, with all the knowledge of his mother and his placebos and his fake inhaler and his friends, it feels like Eddie has been living the last 27 years in sickly, yellow sepia tones. His memories and even the brief time he spent with everyone at the Chinese restaurant shine in his mind in vivid technicolor, and everything else pales in comparison.

He thought he would die, and now he doesn’t have a plan. His life in New York is miserable and cramped and leaves him feeling small, so he puts it off as long as he can.

The drive isn’t long, even with Eddie taking his time. He takes a detour just to drive along the coast and see the ocean, and stops at any given exit or National Forest along the way that strikes his fancy. He’s still home before nightfall.

21. After Derry series by pineapplecrushface - ~47,000 words, explicit - Richie and Eddie are both pining and miserable disasters post-movie. Until they finally get their shit together and figure some things out.

He woke when Eddie sat on the edge of the bed and touched his back, under his disgusting shirt. “Hey,” he said. “Your turn. I mean, your turn after I wash my hand again. What did you lie down in?”

“Your mom,” he said, sitting up and glaring at Eddie, who was half-naked, a towel wrapped around his waist. “How do you all look so good and I ended up looking like fucking Christopher Lloyd? Like, not young Christopher Lloyd. Present day.”

Eddie’s hand was still tucked under his shirt, rubbing a path across his lower back. “I guess you did grow into your looks.”

“Oh, fuck you, you weirdly muscular little shitweasel,” Richie said, escaping to the shower so he didn’t have to look at the slope of Eddie’s arms. He was weak for that, the line of a man’s shoulders and back. He was weak for all of Eddie, really. After everything he had seen, he guessed it was something he could admit to himself. There was no panic left in it.

22. for better, for worse by kaspbrak_kid - ~26,000 words, not rated - Eddie has just gotten through a messy divorce and is trying to deal with the fact that he’s been in love with Richie for 30 years, and then he has to go to Ben and Bev’s wedding. Not a great combination of things.

Eddie blows out a shaky breath and puts down his phone, then picks it back up again, restless. He scrolls up through his and Richie’s texts.

They’re not that frequent. They talk in the group chat, mostly. Eddie thinks about texting him all the time, several times a day, and then never does. It’s all just stupid shit, anyway. A dream he had or a movie he saw on TV that he remembers Richie used to like, and does he still like it? Some things his therapist tells him he should say, like that he’s been in love with Richie for somewhere between six months and thirty-odd years.

Instead, most of their private texts are just inane bickering, or Richie trying out jokes on him, or Eddie telling Richie how to clean the cut he just accidentally gave himself opening a can. He could have just googled it. But he asked Eddie.

23. feet on the ground, head in the sky by peggyolson - ~21,000 words, teen - I’m kind of a sucker for the slowburn, falling in love over distance trope. This one does it well, with bonus Richie dealing with his issues and figuring shit out.

Mostly, though, it’s just a slight tug at the back of his mind, another part of his day. A mumbled  let me call Eddie, like an afterthought, while he’s tapping his foot in line at Whole Foods.

Eddie always, always answers.

“Edward Kaspbrak,” he chirps during business hours, dry and glib, and Richie will respond in a deep, exaggerated baritone with something awful like  Mr. Kaspbrak, your test results are in and unfortunately you  will  keep shrinking at an alarming rate for the rest of your life, something barely funny that he says just to get a reaction.

(It had been  such  a mistake to give Richie his work number.)

24. it’s about time that you just unwind by fuckener - ~9,500 words, explicit - Eddie finds out that Richie is gay via his stand-up and promptly loses his mind.

“Yeah? Mine was weird, guys, I’m not going to lie. I came up with this really good idea on how to cause total chaos at a family event, you wanna hear it?” There it was - glasses adjustment, not even past the one minute mark. “If you really want to shake up another dull as fuck Thanksgiving with your parents, just wait ‘til you’re in your forties and your elderly father is spooning out his first helping of mashed potatoes for the night and then drop the bomb that you’ve been gay the whole time. Boom, happy Thanksgiving. Pass the sweet corn, I want to fuck the huge green dude on the can.” People laughed. Richie did that thing with his face between a smile and a scowl. “It’s the long game, yeah, but -”

Eddie slammed his laptop shut.

25. feel this burning, love of mine by floatingonthelehigh - 17,000 words, mature - The clown is a bastard. Richie gets a second chance.

“Don’t leave,” Eddie says quietly, and god  fucking  damn it, it breaks him that Eddie thinks he ever would.

“No,  fuck no, Eddie. I’m not going to.” He adjusts his grip on the jacket against Eddie’s stomach, winces when Eddie gasps in pain. Richie’s lip shakes again as he just keeps talking. “Frankly I’m insulted that you’d think I’d leave you, after just remembering you're my best fucking friend in the world, after twenty seven fucking years. My clown-murdering partner in crime! How could I ever leave you? Fuck no, I’m not leaving you, Eds. Idiot,” He laughs emptily, rubbing Eddie’s cheek, and pauses, beginning to nod to himself as a goal flits into his mind. “I’m going to pick you up, I’m going to get you out of here, to a hospital. Right now. And—” Eddie’s grip on his arm tightens, and he stops.

26. hey there demons (it's me, ya boi) by dharmainitiative - 12,000 words, teen - Is this another ghosthunters AU? Why, yes it is. I don’t know why there are two of these, but I enjoyed them both. This one is much lighter, and I really liked the way that the writer creates a very lived-in feeling as soon as you jump into this universe.

 As it was, BuzzFeed wasn’t a bad place to work, despite all the shit Richie gave it. He was paid well, there were always a bunch of cushy chairs everywhere, and the food that got brought in for lunch everyday was way better than the shitty grilled cheeses he ate at home for dinner. And despite what Richie expected, his coworkers were actually pretty cool, all things considered. Sure, they were all millenials who thought landing an internship at BuzzFeed was the height of success, but most of them were friendly, and occasionally funny, and like Richie, just excited to get paid to do something that required little to no effort.

 Most of them, at least. There was also Eddie Kaspbrak.

 Richie met Eddie his first day at BuzzFeed, when he was shown his desk and the incessantly chatty intern that sat at the desk right next to him. Working side by side — literally — let Richie learn a lot of things about Eddie Kaspbrak: he was a neurotic hypochondriac, exclusively owned Polo shirts, and talked faster than Richie could even blink.

27. New Page, Same Old Book by Rend_Herring - 17,000 words, explicit - Post-movie, Eddie divorces his wife, moves across the country and makes himself comfortable in Richie’s home. Richie is totally fine and not freaking out at all.

He clips the wall coming into the foyer, practically crashes over the little table he uses to stack mail—fumbles around with the chain, the deadbolt, before finally wrenching open the door.  It doesn’t occur to him until he’s sending it bouncing back against the doorstop, that it might have been a good idea to check the peephole and make sure it actually  wasn’t  some asshole out for a smash and grab in the middle of the night, or worse — a  fan.  

Richie would be less dumbfounded by either option.

He squints at the person standing in front of him, blinks.

“I’ve had this dream before,” Richie says, voice still croaky from sleep, “usually you’re wearing less clothes.”

“Jesus christ,” Eddie sighs, and rolls his eyes when Richie jumps back a bit, genuinely startled that it’s  not some manufacturing of his sordid imagination.  “I knew I shouldn’t have come here.”

28. Drives Me Wild by rustywrites - ~4,000 words, explicit - Eddie and Richie have hotel sex after RIchie wins himself an Emmy.

"I thought I told you no more jokes about how much you love my dick," Eddie says, shifting to straddle Richie's waist in earnest, rolling his hips downward just to emphasize his point, no doubt. His hands are braced on both of Richie's shoulders, pinning him back with his bodyweight, while Richie's hands are on his waist, holding him in place. It's not the most comfortable position, all things considered--Richie's knees are bent over the end of the mattress, his feet still on the floor, and they're both still in their fucking monkey suits.

Richie had tried to make the case with his agent and his manager that he should be allowed to attend the Emmys in the same clothes he always wore (jeans, a shitty t-shirt, a semi-fashionable jacket, you know, the works.) They were good enough for his specials, one of which had earned him the nomination to begin with, but both Anna and Johnathan had pushed back hard, and when Eddie had not-so-subtly sided with them, well. Suit and tie it was.

29. Rewrite by sachi_sama - ~13,000 words, mature - Stan is dead, but somehow only Eddie can see him as they race to beat It. That’s...probably not a good sign. (note: Stan stays dead in this fic.)

“Whoa. Hey, Eds, you being a weepy drunk over there?” Richie asks, and he scoots over into Stan's seemingly empty chair, and Stan vanishes as Richie's hand is suddenly on Eddie's shoulder.

“I just—I saw...” Eddie pauses, and he wipes his hands over his eyes, sniffling. When's the last time he cried? It makes his head hurt every time. “Fuck. I'm sorry, guys.” He stands abruptly. “I'm gonna go splash some water on my face.” He hurriedly exits the room and he hears Mike asking what he saw, but Eddie is already power-walking across the restaurant to the bathroom, aware Dead Stan is hot on his heels.

“Lucky. The bathroom is empty,” Stan says as he leans against the wall. Eddie looks at him, really looks, and he sees the blood on Stan's wrists.

30. ** we are all going forward, none of us are going back series by theappliepielifestyle - ~21,000 words, teen - Richie gets stuck in a time loop and forced to repeat their last stand at Neibolt over and over until he gets it right.

Richie hears himself finish saying Let’s kill this clown  and it’s only when he finishes forming the  n  that reality sets in. What the  fuck -

He whirls around. Everyone’s standing around him, just like they were last night - they���re in front of the fucking house, it’s standing again.

“What the fuck,” Richie croaks. “No, come on - what’s going on? Ohhhh fuck.”

He only lets himself stare at it for a few seconds of unbridled hate before he keeps looking at the others, who are now staring at him, pausing from where they’d all taken a step towards the house before looking back and stopping to watch Richie’s nervous breakdown.

31. ** keep talking. i’ll keep walking toward the sound of your voice. by theapplepielifestyle - 16,000 words, teen - Eddie dies, sort of, and meets Stan in the afterlife. The two of them realize that they can communicate with their friends in their dreams. Eddie has to watch Richie slowly breakdown in his absence.

32. ** happily ever afters all the way around series by theapplepielifestyle - ~35,000 words, teen - I have so much appreciation for this author’s desire to fix the ending by any means necessary. In this one, that good old turtle lends a hand and sends Richie back in time to fix everything. It’s...a lot.

Then it smooths out into an actual scene, if jumpy: a sigil on wooden boards that look a lot like the floor of Richie’s apartment. The sigil is probably drawn in blood, but it could also be red paint. Although Richie’s being  very  optimistic about that. Anyway, the dream is mostly that: the sigil being drawn, slow and precise, by Richie. It’s dark in the dream, and the sigil being drawn is overcut with more fleeting images, chased with sounds: Stan’s bloody hand dangling out of a bath. Stan as a kid, on the tail end of saying something as he walks home in the evening. Eddie with blank eyed, slumped in IT’s lair. Eddie as a kid, in mid-argument in the clubhouse. A voice so deep and impossible that it hurts, a voice that reminds him of the turtle’s gaze:  come back come back you can change the -

At the end of the dream, the scene will stabilize. Dream-Richie will say some shit he can't make out. Then he'll say the one thing he can make out, which is: I’m coming.

And then he’ll wake up.

LINK TO REDDIE FIC REC LIST PART TWO 

[hamiltalian-creates]

Wine Mom Dadceit, Pt 5

Summary: Remus and Virgil get ready to go see their other dad for the weekend. Virgil is too big of a gay disaster to keep a secret. 

Pairings: Mentioned Virgil x Remy, Mentioned Queerplatonic Patton x Logan, Past Janus x Patton

Words: 1,774

Warnings: None

When they got home, Janus sat down with the two of them to help them with their homework, as usual, and gave Remus a snack. Virgil said he was too old for snacks, as if nobody saw him getting his own snack about half an hour in.

As he got up, Janus saw Virgil’s phone screen light up and, honestly, he didn’t mean to peek, but the screen lit up and he just glanced over. He wouldn’t have noticed anything if it weren’t for the heart emojis.

[Unknown #: Hey, Virgie!!! I got my phone back to message you! <3]

[Unknown #: Hope you appreciate this, I said I’d do extra chores for the rest of my grounding]

“Uh.. Virgil-”

“Dad’s reading your texts!”

Virgil immediately ran back over and snatched his phone up, glancing at the screen before looking back at his dad. “Seriously?”

Janus shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to read them, I just saw the emojis and I got a little curious... Is that a friend of yours?..” he asked, suggesting that he knew exactly which friend.

Virgil nodded and sat back down. “He’s pretty funny like that..” Come on, there was no way he took on a bunch of extra chores just to talk to him, they could talk in school. Virgil assumed Remy stole his phone back purely to talk to whatever friends he used to go to school with and decided to talk to Virgil for a minute.

[You’re insane, I hope you know that]

[Remy :) :What can I say? I’m crazy for you, emo boi ;*]

Virgil blushed and put his phone down, pretending like he didn’t notice his brother and dad staring at him.

“Remy says hi, Remus.”

Remus smiled widely. “Tell Remy to ask you out already!”

“Why don’t we just get back to math?” Janus suggested in a desperate attempt to get Remus to ease up.

The rest of the week seemed like just business as usual. Virgil would get be a gay mess and Janus would stop Remus from messing with him too much. So, technically, there was nothing new to tell Patton. At least, that’s how Virgil and Janus agreed to justify it.

It wasn’t that Virgil particularly enjoyed keeping secrets from his popstar, they just didn’t quite have the level of communication that Virgil had with his father. His popstar was definitely more likely to try and pry for information than his father was, though all three of them were working on getting him to not be so intrusive as well as finding a way to get Virgil to be a little more open without feeling like he had to be embarrassed.

But there was still a pretty big hole in the plan.

“Remus, I will give you five dollars if you don’t bring up Remy to anyone this weekend,” Janus said as he helped his sons get ready to go. “Virgil isn’t ready to share about him yet and you know that your father would be hurt if he knows that Virgil isn’t telling him something.”

Remus thought long and hard enough to make Janus sweat. He and Patton had a very civil divorce, they were friends as well as co-parents and Janus wasn’t sure how keeping this kind of secret from him would affect that.

“I’ll make it ten if you don’t torment Roman.”

“Make it fifty and we have a deal.”

Janus felt his eye twitch. He was a good liar, but how could he justify Remus or any eight year old walking around with a fifty dollar bill? “I’ll buy you a chocolate bar.”

“Two chocolate bars!”

“Done.” Janus held his hand out and felt himself relax as Remus shook it.

“I would’ve done it for free.”

“Just get ready to go.”

Remus giggled madly and kept packing his bag as Janus went to check up on Virgil.

“What did he say?..”

“He hustled me out of some candy, but he won’t be a problem.” He gave Virgil the two five dollar bills that was supposed to be Remus’s bribe and gave it to Virgil. “I promised him two chocolate bars. You can have the rest of the money.”

“Thanks..” Virgil put the money in his pocket and sighed. “I feel like this is going to go so badly..”

“You say that about everything. It’ll be fine, I promise.” He pulled Virgil into a one armed hug. “If it doesn’t, just say it was my idea to hide it.”

“Why would it ever be your idea to hide it?”

Janus shrugged and kissed his forehead. “I’ll figure it out. You just worry about keeping Remus from picking on you. Now finish getting ready, Logan’s going to be here really soon.” He got up and left, waiting for the two boys to be ready and for Logan to get there to pick him up. Usually, it was Janus who dropped them off, but after the last weekend, Logan felt bad for cutting Janus’s relaxation time short and insisted on coming to pick them up.

Janus let him in when he got there, inviting him inside.

“Good morning, Logan. Roman didn’t want to come along and say hi to Remus?” he asked jokingly.

Logan shook his head, smiling a bit. “I don’t think he wants anything to do with Remus after last weekend..”

“Yeah, well, I made Remus swear not to torment him, we shook on it and everything.”

“What did it cost you?”

“Just some candy, you know how kids are,” he shrugged. “I won’t blame you if you don’t want him all pumped full of sugar when he goes over, I’m sure he’ll live if he doesn’t get the candy until I go to pick them up tomorrow night.”

Logan shook his head. “I won’t mind. Like you said, I have Roman, I know that Remus won’t believe you unless you give him candy upfront. We can swing by the store on the way to the house.”

Janus smiled. “Thanks.. I was going to just give him money, but this way was cheaper.”

“No problem.” Logan smiled back and sat down with Janus as they waited for the two boys.

“How have Roman and Patton been getting along? I hope Patton isn’t going too upset by the fact that Roman and Remus don’t seem to get along particularly well?”

Logan shrugged. “I’m not letting him feel too much pressure there. I just keep reminding him that they’re all kids and they’re all different, they’re not going to hate each other forever. I’m just working on getting Roman to realize that Remus will only keep messing with him as long as he picks on Virgil.”

Janus nodded. “And I keep telling Remus not to do anything to Roman that he wouldn’t do to Virgil.”

“I will say that Patton and Roman get along exceptionally well. They both love Disney in a way that I will always support, but never understand.”

Janus chuckled at that. “Good.. I know Patton is pretty quick to feel guilty about this kind of thing. I remember he was really worried when you two were making plans to move in, he didn’t want Remus and Virgil to feel like we were getting replaced, even though we were all completely rooting for you two.”

Logan smiled at that. “That’s nice of you. It still kind of amazes me how well you and Patton get along despite the divorce..” He paused for a second. “I’m sorry, is it fine with you if I bring it up like that?”

Janus waved it off. “It’s completely fine. You know neither of us have hard feelings over this, marriage just wasn’t for us. You know we’re still good friends, I know you know we go out for drinks once in a while.” More like once in a parent-teacher conference, but that wasn’t the point.

“Good.. I just wanted to be sure, the other divorced parents at Roman’s school are either bitter about it or way too celebratory about it for their child’s sake.. It makes me glad that I don’t get those feelings.”

Janus just shrugged. There was nothing for them to be particularly bitter or celebratory about, he and Patton got along just fine when they weren’t living in the same house. They were just two adults who didn’t happen to be soulmates. “Yeah, romantic love is fucking weird. Young love is worse.”

Almost as if on cue, Virgil came out of his room, immediately hopping into defensive mode. “Who said anything about love? Crushes aren’t love. I mean, what crush? Can’t a guy just really like another guy’s face without everyone talking about it?”

Janus face palmed.

“Um... We weren’t talking about you, Virgil.”

Virgil froze for a second and slowly realize that he’d sold himself out. Still, he desperately hoped he could fix it as he shuffled towards the front door. “Who said I was talking about me? I didn’t even say anything about his face. Anybody can wear prescription sunglasses, Logan. You guys want to talk about me like I’m not in the room, I might as well wait in the car.”

Logan turned to Janus as Virgil went outside, hoping it wouldn’t take too long for him to realize that the car was still locked. “So... Virgil has a crush?”

“I will give you five dollars if you don’t tell Patton.”

Logan smiled. He knew this was a big deal for Virgil, he wouldn’t think about meddling. “I’m not Remus, I’ll stay quiet for free.”

“Hey, I would’ve done it for free!” Remus said as he stepped into the living room.

Logan stood up and walked with Remus to the front door. “Don’t worry, his secret is safe with me.”

Virgil stepped back inside. “Maybe you should’ve told me that the doors were locked instead of gossiping, Logan. Did you ever think of that?”

Logan nodded. “Of course, how thoughtless of me. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

“There’s no secret! Remy is, like, totally just a friend!” Virgil paused and realized what he’d just said. “Oh my god, he’s rubbing off on me... Next thing you know, I’m going to be sleeping in class and fighting the entire basketball team..” He walked back out in silent horror, Logan and Remus following.

“Have fun with that..” Janus told Logan. “Let’s hope he doesn’t rat himself out to Patton.”

“It looks like we’ll just have to wait and see.. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Janus nodded and watched them leave, closing the front door with a sigh. He gave it three hours before Virgil let his secret slip to Patton.

[dickytwister]

HEY do you maybe have like an oc page or could you tell me something about all your ocs because i'm Interested and you have my full attention :eyes:

AHSJDKGLHL that's so sweet i'm nfjghl???? i don't have an oc page bc i'm the embodiment of an old man being given an iphone after 50 years of using a rotary phone but !!! i can yell abt them a bit aaa thank you for asking abt them 🥺🥺💚

i put everything under the cut bc dear god i have a lot to say abt my kids and i'm not gonna make everyone scroll through that HHHHHH haw 🤠🤠

elliot fletcher

- he's my deputy in fc5!! he's from waverly in iowa and he's just...very tired nfjfkhl give my poor man a break

- everytime his radio crackles he ages 10 years and if it's john talking add another 10 years

- he keeps the three heralds alive but he doesn't care abt joseph <3

- gets in trouble bc he's impulsive af nfjghl when jacob is close to the cage?? ram his face in the bars. when john leans like rlly close in the confession scene?? headbutt 😌🙏🏼

- the only people who know abt his past are earl, grace, faith and john, the rest just kinda speculate and elliot lets them believe what they want bc not only does he rlly not want ppl to know the actual truth, it's also very funny to listen to the stuff they can come up with

- speaking of faith he often seeks her for advice and sometimes they get high together and he gets teary eyed bc she's just... very nice to him and when all you see everyday is violence it's overwhelming to be shown a little bit of kindness 🥲🙏🏼

- he's in love with john but also he'd kick him across the county if he could but also he'd give his life for him

- after the bombs and all he unlocks his final form and becomes A Husband™, complete with a beard, a scarf and bad jokes that make john want to officially marry him so he can divorce his ass

- fun fact i came up with the name elliot fletcher bc i thought it sounded neat but recently i found out there's a trans actor called elliot fletcher too??? like what were the odds ngl that's so cool

carter quill

- this is my character in the marvel dnd game my brother is dming!!

- his parents are peter quill and kitty pryde and he inherited his mom's powers (so he can become immaterial and stuff uwu) and his dad's tiny pebble brain~

- he grew up on a ship with the guardians so his family is just... a bunch of uncles, one of which is a tree

- he's part of an initiative called the peacekeepers with isaaq cage (luke cage's and jessica jones' son), finneas "zorn" reeves (brock rumlow's and sinthea shmidt's son), lu "highway star" khan (the mandarin's son), alexis "hex" pythagoras (doctor strange's protégé) and ev-lin (ronan the destroyer's daughter who also happens to be carter's bully when they were 11 HHHHHH)

- everyone agrees that carter is just... a puppy. a little labrador. so overexcited. head empty. he doesn't know what's going on but he's having fun with his friends and that's what matters <3

- he died once and went to hell for like 66 years bc he held a bomb while it was exploding but he got better and he doesn't remember most of his time in hell but also he's a lil traumatised

- he wears cute skirts sometimes and also froggie themed clothes 🥰🥰 he's terrible at applying nail polish and it ends up smudged most of the time bc he can't sit still for more than two minutes without going insane but he still likes it

- he has a pet bird called ink!! he thought it was a nice name bc his last name is quill so u know,,, ink,,, quill,,,, he inherited his dad's terrible humor also

- he's fruity and has a big fat crush on one of his teammates 😳😳👉🏼👈🏼

- he strictly refuses to kill, so he uses stunt energy guns and a three section staff to fight!! he accidentally killed someone once and threw up

- he knows asl and is fluent in it!! he's also very bad at reading measurements when cooking (and reading in general) so he relies on their proto-ai, dadji, to help him cook and he listens to audiobooks a lot!!

- idk what else to say abt him except like two games ago he was in the hospital bc lu got hurt and he wanted to get him muffins from a coffee shop across the streets but he panicked when faced with the selection so he bought one of each and came back to the hospital room with like,,,, twenty muffins

- i found this pic of his face claim and it honestly just radiates his vibe so here have it

thorgran galvish

- he's my dwarf enchanter from another homebrew dnd game!! in this universe (and maybe others idk shit abt actual dnd HHHH forgive me) enchanter dwarves are lowkey enslaved bc of their rare link with magic

- thorgran blew up a wall and ran away to the surface so now he's a fugitive and he's constantly on the run uwu trust issues ensue

- he loves the sky so much?? especially at night?? he knows abt constellations, but he thinks they're just whatever you see in the stars and doesn't know there are like,,, actual constellations so he sits on the roof of a tall building sometimes and finds his own constellations

- he also tries to draw them but he rlly sucks at it aslkdsgl that doesn't stop him from filling his journal with little stars and drawings!!

- during my very first game with him he found his rival, who turned out to be a 16 years old teenager?? millennial/gen z rivalry

- agh i don't have much abt him yet bc i've only just started to play him but he's my beefiest boy and also a dilf 🥰🥰

theadric "elder" montajay

- yet another character from the same universe as thorgran, but this time it's a funky little halfling bard

- his instrument is the violin!! he tried every other instrument and his mom was very supportive despite how bad he was at all of them. his community was raided and his father died, so he inherited his violin and that turned out to be the only instrument he could play

- took his love of the economy to the next level when he decided to fuck every gang leader he could find to control their operations and ruin their organizations so the money they hoarded could be put back in circulation

- accidentally fell in love with a half-orc gang leader and was abt to tell him the truth abt what he was doing but was exposed by the first person he'd cheated so he had to run without explaining himself to his lover smh ://

- "i don't wanna fall in the slutty bard cliché," i say before immediately giving elder the tightest leather pants and opening his shirt to show his majestic chest hair.

- surprisingly good with kids?? anyone younger than him who looks sad becomes His Child and he turns into a lil mama, tasting the food of an inn first to assure it's not poisoned, giving hugs, soft shit like that ngl he's just a mom 😔😔

- we abandoned the game he was in but we left off when he'd just escaped a dwarven prison with his new child and others owo anyway slutty bard with chest hair?? that's just the witcher's jaskier

scylla

- my gay pirate lady!! i don't have much abt her either bc AAA BRAINROT but !!! i still love her very much

- she's a hybrid between a human and a psaarinch (fish folks in our homebrew universe uwu) and she looks very human except she has like shark abilities?? she can smell blood, taste with her skin, breathe underwater for like two hours or smth, sharper teeth,,

- she started off as a privateer but like what was the kingdom gonna do?? track her down to make sure everything she did was legal?? nah man she got that sweet fleet and became a pirate

- she beats men up in inns and gives their wives a good time <3

- she's very close to her crew and they're kinda just a big family

- she fights with those s-shaped staffs?? but they're actually blades ngfhl she's very agile and looks like she's dancing when she's actually fighting

- fun fact she's my second shark oc the first one was called maito and she was a yellow lantern in a dc game we did (the main difference between them is that maito loved men while scylla is very much a lesbian 😌🙏🏼)

i have like so many more of them but that's already such a long post and i don't wanna do too much NGL if u wanna know more hmu i'll yell some more 😎😎🙏🏼🙏🏼

[fuckyeahjerik]

What do you think of doing the 19? Feel free to refuse and have a good day :D

Hello Anon! We hope you'll like it!

*

Love.

According to the dictionary it means, “an intense feeling of deep affection,” which Jellal isn’t sure he entirely understands the meaning of.

He grew up in a house where ‘love’ was expressed through yells and broken glasses. He is even sure that he saw his mother throwing a plate at his father once. While they tried to tone down when it came to Jellal, he was no stranger of cold shoulders and ignorance coming from his parents. And growing up without any siblings or relative around, didn’t really help either. His parents finally got divorced at some point, and he spent a good majority of his life switching from his father or mother’s house, who still managed to find a way to fight about ridiculous things each time they crossed paths. So, yes, “an intense feeling of deep affection”, is certainly not how his first experience with love went.

Which probably explain why he finds himself in this precise situation. If he has anyone to blame, he will be pointing fingers at Ultear. She is the first friend he managed to make despite his cold demeanor. She saw past through him when they met in middle school, and given the situation he’s in right now, he is not so sure if letting her in finally was a great decision.

Because being friends with Ultear, caused him three grands things in his life, which he likes to call “The Three Scourges”.

One, it forced him to open up, and lose his credibility when it comes to the deal with “I don’t want friends”.

Which leads him to number two, where out of nowhere, he became part of a group of people.

Which leads him to number three, Erik.

Erik with his beautiful brown eyes and dark red hair. Erik with his smiles and ridiculous scars on his eye that Jellal can’t help but think of, in ways that would probably make the boy blush if he could hear thoughts. Erik with his outgoing personality and who is also very straight with a girlfriend.

And this fact is probably the most devastating one for Jellal who is very not straight and possibly in love with him, at least according to Ultear. He’s not really certain of where he stands on the matter. Because really, all he feels is his heart beating faster when Erik talks to him, and sometimes he doesn’t know how to function properly in his company, but if anything, this just means that he is sick and probably dying from a cancer.

So, yes, it’s definitely Ultear’s fault, if Erik has been looking at him for at least five minutes, with wide eyes and mouth half opens with shock, suddenly incapable of letting out a single word.

“I’ll...I’ll go,” Jellal blurts out, before standing up from his chair and walking away.

He doesn’t know why his eyes are hitching so much, or why his vision is blurred. He’s pretty sure that it feels hotter now since his hands are sweaty.

It’s ridiculous, really. Because what was he thinking when he told Erik “I love you”, out of nowhere? They were just discussing their new project for a class they shared and were assigned together. They were in the library of the campus, so really even the setting wasn’t that great for a confession.

“I’m so stupid…” He mumbles.

He’s not sure of where he is going, at this point he doesn’t really care either, all he wants is to get out of here. Maybe even drop his classes for the rest of day, or even for the rest of the year. He doesn’t even like what he’s doing, so really it could be a great opportunity to just quit everything. He has some money on the side, and he’s pretty sure it’ll be enough for him to go a few months somewhere, far, far away. It might be a little be drastic but he’ll choose that over the fact of ever seeing Erik’s face ever again.

At least that’s the plan until, he feels fingers curling around his writ, urging him to stop. And it’s not long before his eyes caught Eric’s body moving, so they are now facing each other. He looks out of breath, a faint blush on his cheeks, and there’s a certain desperation in his eyes.

“Jellal,” he says, panting.

Erik takes a moment to catch his breath, not letting go of Jellal. He doesn’t dare to move as few seconds pass, too afraid of what could happen.

“You ran,” Erik finally lets out.

Jellal bites his bottom lip as he lets his gaze meet the ground.

“You said that to me and then ran away,” he adds.

“You didn’t give me an answer. I was not going to stay there and embarrass myself further,” Jellal whispers, and really he didn’t think he had it in him.

“You…You caught me off guard okay? I really didn’t expect something like that… ever. And I was just starting to be okay and moving on from you and then you just said...that.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tell you—wait, what did you just said? What do you mean?”

Confusion taking over him, Jellal lifts his eyes to Erik, who is looking slightly embarrassed now, as the words finally caught up to him. He is not sure if he really understood what Erik just said, and he’s feeling weird enough about all this situation to let his hopes high.

“Look, um...I know you’re not really into that “love” thing. You made it all clear, countless of time through the years. And while it hurt at first, I made my peace with it. Or at least tried. And then, you say something like that and – fuck- what does it mean?”

Jellal stares at him, without saying a word, because really, this doesn’t make any sense. He wonders for a moment if he finally died from that cancer, he’s so sure he has and if he managed to reach heaven, or hell for that matter. Because really, this is torture. He can feel his hopes dancing inside his head and it sucks.

“Did you mean it?” Erik asks, a certain despair in his voice. “When you said you loved me, did you mean it?”

Erik looks ready to break at any moment, and there’s something in that, that makes Jellal wary, because that’s a side of the young man he has never met before.

“Yes, I meant it...whatever it means,” Jellal decides to tell him the truth.

And he can see it was the right thing to do, when relief takes over him. But it doesn’t make any sense because—

“Why are you asking? Why are you saying all of this when you have a girlfriend, Erik?”

Why, indeed, when not two hours ago, Erik was bragging about how awesome Kinana is, about how gentle she is.

“What? What girlfriend?” Erik questions, confused.

“Come on Erik, I know that Kinana and you have a thing going on and—”

“Wait! What?”

“—it’s okay really, you don’t have to pretend for my sake or whatever—”

“Damn it, what are you talking about? I’m not—”

“—I’ll admit that it bugged me for a long time, but it’s okay now, I mean, she’s gorgeous and I guess you two do look cute together—”

This time his sentence is cut off with a pair of lips on his and Jellal doesn’t even try to stop it from happening. It’s at the same time everything he imagined it would feel like and not.

Erik’s lips are surprisingly soft and warm. It’s easy for Jellal to just melt against him. There’s no pressure to the kiss, it will not lead to something deeper, they are just lips against lips, but it’s enough for Jellal’s heart to quicken.

But as sudden the kiss was, it doesn’t last long either as Erik retreats a little, so he can look at Jellal again.

“You really don’t know when to shut up sometimes, you’re unbelievable,” Erik whispers, a soft smile on his lips. “First of all, I don’t have a girlfriend, Kinana is my best friend, thank you very much. We grew up together so I see her like a little sister more than anything.”

“But-”

He is cut by a hand on his lips this time, and Jellal tries not to frown at the disrespect.

“Then, I’m very gay and she’s very gay so yeah...definitely not. Also…” There’s a little fond smile adorning his face now. “I love you too, idiot.”

It takes a few minutes for Jellal to process the words. And now he understands why Erik took so much time to say anything back to him when he let out the words earlier. It’s a strange feeling, to know that someone loves you.

But after a moment, Jellal brings his hand to the one against his lips to lower it, and he can’t help but smile in return.

“So,” Erik speaks once again. “You confessed even though you thought I had a girlfriend? What kind of sick game are you playing dude?”

At the sight of wriggling eyebrows and the now smirk on his face, Jellal lost his own smile as a groan escapes his lips.

“Oh my god, I’m going to regret this.”

Erik slides an arm around his waist to keep him against him as he laughs.

And despite his words, Jellal knows, he’s not going to regret anything at all.

*

Mod Océane

(beta by mod Sky)

[unfolded73]

Husbands: Two Years In (3/5) - schitt’s creek ff

This fic is complete, posting every other weekday. While I'm including it as part of the "Labels" series, the preceding fics are not required reading. Previous fics in this series: Boyfriends; “I Love You”, Partners, Fiancés

Warning: This fic deals with depression as one of its major topics.

Rated Explicit, this chapter 5153 words. (ao3)

Thanks to @high-seas-swan for cheerleading and B13_MaybeThisTime for many valuable comments (and also cheerleading).

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 3: Summer

Wherever Patrick Brewer might have expected his the trajectory of his life to lead, even after he’d broken it off with Rachel and left his hometown, even after he realized he was gay and fell in love with a man, he could never have imagined a future that included walking down a sunny sidewalk in SoHo on an August afternoon with a woman like Moira Rose on his arm.

This trip to New York City had been in the works for months, planned for the break between the filming of Crows IV and the date when Moira would need to return to set for season three of the Sunrise Bay reboot. The entire Rose family had converged to visit Alexis on this trip, and this afternoon the plan was shopping, which Patrick had gone along with good-naturedly. He didn’t care about the shopping, but it was still fun to be in a city like this, to people-watch as Moira, Alexis, and David orbited around him. Johnny Rose, meanwhile, was meeting with an old friend and hadn’t joined them for this particular outing.

Alexis and David were several feet behind him and Moira, standing outside the Burberry store and arguing about the merits of a coat. Patrick assumed that even had he lingered to listen, what they were saying would have gone in one ear and out the other. So since Moira had taken his arm a few minutes before, he continued their slow promenade, figuring her kids would catch up when they got bored with their debate and noticed that they’d been left behind. Moira moved gracefully in platform heels and a vintage silver dress that probably cost more than Patrick’s entire wardrobe, a hat and large sunglasses obscuring most of her face as she attempted to avoid being recognized.

At the very moment that Patrick was thinking this, a middle-aged woman stopped in front of them, her hands flying to her mouth. “Moira Rose? Oh my god, I’m a huge fan!”

So the attempt to hide her identity only went so far, Patrick realized, watching Moira’s reaction. She pulled off her sunglasses and smiled. “I’m out with my family at the moment, but I would be delighted to pose for a quick photograph.”

The fan gave Patrick a once-over, seeming to consider and immediately reject the idea that he might be anyone important. Moira let go of Patrick and leaned in, almost but not quite touching the woman, and smiled wide for the two seconds that it took for the selfie to be taken.

“They didn’t really kill you off at the end of the last episode, did they? I mean, no one saw your body,” the woman said.

“Now now, surely you don’t think you can dragoon me into revealing spoilers for Sunrise Bay out here on the street like a common newsboy.” Patrick stifled a laugh at the idea of a newsboy out on the sidewalk, selling papers full of TV show spoilers. “But I do appreciate your apprehensiveness about poor Vivian. It would be an inauspicious ending for her if after all this time, her life was snuffed out at the bottom of that cistern, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Do keep watching!” Moira said with a flourish of her sunglasses to indicate that the woman was dismissed.

“My mom texted me with that same question about your character,” Patrick admitted, holding his elbow out again for her.

“I was trending the night that episode aired,” Moira said, tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow as they began walking again.

“You’re very kind to your fans,” he said.

“I remember what it was like to feel like I didn’t have many fans left,” she said in a lower register, her accent less ostentatious, the way it got when she was admitting something real, something true. “I don’t take this revival of my career for granted. Not for a second.”

His heart squeezed in his chest for her, for everything she’d gone through and everything she’d managed to claw her way back to achieve.

“Ooh, that’s a lovely handbag,” she said, leading him over to the window of another store.

Patrick thought it was hideous, but what did he know? “Do you want to go in?” he asked, looking down the street to see David and Alexis had finally started to wander in their direction, albeit slowly.

Moira shook her head, resuming their walk. “After those years of deprivation, I find I’m still not used to buying things on impulse. Isn’t that curious?”

“I mean, it’s no surprise those years left a mark. And being frugal is… wise.”

She smiled at him, then glanced back in Alexis and David’s direction. “Do you know, I find I’ve almost forgotten what David was like before he was with you, Patrick. He’s so… secure. It used to surprise me, seeing him like that, but now it’s who he is.”

He winced at the idea of taking credit for David’s growth. At the same time, he knew that David still had deep wells of anxiety lurking under the surface. Marriage hadn’t turned either of them into different people, much as they might sometimes look idyllic as a couple from the outside.

Before he could respond, Moira’s phone chirped from inside her large bag. “I bet that’s John,” she said as she rooted around for the device.

“There you are,” Patrick said to David as he and Alexis joined them.

“Yeah, no thanks to you, just leaving us behind,” David complained while Moira stepped away and spoke into her phone.

Patrick laughed. “We were a half a block ahead of you, David.”

David reached out and put his hands on Patrick’s shoulders. “Yes, but you’re new to the city,” he said with a crooked smile. “You could get lost. Or abducted.”

“I’m sure your mother would have protected me if it came to that.”

Moira finished her call. “I’m going to meet John back at the Plaza and have a little repose before dinner. Shall we reconvene later?”

“We could go back to the hotel too,” Patrick said to David. The Roses were paying for David and Patrick to stay at the same Manhattan hotel, a generous gift that meant they didn’t have to cram themselves into Alexis’ tiny apartment or rent a room in Queens, which David had recoiled at when Patrick suggested it. Pointing out that David had absolutely no logical reason to be picky about hotel rooms, all of which were a step above the place he’d lived for a few years, didn’t sway him.

“I’m still trying to get ideas for your anniversary present,” David said.

“My goodness, have you been married a year already?” Moira asked. “How time does fly.”

David brought his hands up to his cheeks and shook his head in disbelief. “Oh my god, we’ve been married two years, Mother. At least, in a few weeks we will have.”

Alexis reached over and booped Patrick’s nose. “And Patrick hasn’t even mentioned divorce once yet, David, which is impressive.”

“Mm, eat glass,” David said. Patrick grinned — he’d missed their ridiculous banter.

“There’s a gelato place across the street,” Patrick suggested, pointing. He wouldn’t have minded going back to the hotel to rest, but stopping for ice cream would be a good compromise.

David’s eyes lit up. “My husband knows me so well,” he said.

~*~

Patrick let himself be pushed down into the soft mattress, David’s naked body covering his, his mouth working, wet and insistent, against his jaw. “God, good hotels make me so hot,” David whispered.

Chuckling, Patrick ran a palm over the stubble on David’s cheek and back into his hair. “Then it’s a good thing that your parents’ room is on another floor,” he said. He was still a little tipsy from the wine they’d had during dinner at a very nice restaurant, and the process of getting undressed with David once they got back to their room had been a frantic blur.

“A very good thing.” David reached down and cupped Patrick’s hardening cock. “What are you in the mood for?”

Patrick thrust against the inadequate friction David was giving him. “Can I fuck you?”

David squinted an eye closed. “Don’t think I can do that right now, not with the way I’ve been eating today.”

That was fair; Patrick didn’t think he’d be able to bottom at the moment either, now that he thought about it. “Or you could suck my cock?”

“Mm, yes, I can do that,” David said, already sliding down the bed and positioning himself between Patrick’s legs like he didn’t want to lose this momentum, this sloppy, slightly drunken desperation.

The first flutter of David’s tongue against him had Patrick throwing his head back and groaning. But then it quickly became clear that David was in the mood to tease, to savor him, licking him from base to tip with swipes of his tongue like his dick was some kind of obscene ice cream treat, and then only taking him inside his mouth with the gentlest of pressure, not giving him enough suction to get anywhere close to coming. Patrick’s fist clenching in David’s hair only made David chuckle in the back of his throat, like Patrick’s impatience was exactly the goal.

David pulled off, replacing his mouth with his slowly jacking fist. “If you’d let me pack the way I wanted to, I’d have you tied up by now so that I could really take my time with you.”

“I wasn’t going to haul an entire suitcase full of sex toys through customs for a one week vacation,” Patrick said, his hips rising in time with David’s hand. “I wasn’t that interested in giving U.S. airport security a thrill.”

“Your loss,” David said, turning and sucking a bruise into the skin of Patrick’s inner thigh.

When his thighs were mottled with hickeys and David was still only giving him incomplete friction with his hand, Patrick surged up from the bed, flipping their positions. “Your turn to be tortured for a little while,” Patrick said, biting David’s lower lip hard enough to make him grunt.

He worked his way over David’s chest, nosing through his chest hair, pausing to suck hard on one of his nipples, scraping his teeth against the skin stretched over the side of his ribs, then further down to position himself between David’s thighs. He tried to hold out, tried to stretch out the time before he took David’s cock in his mouth, but he felt too hungry for it to wait long. The saltiness, the weight of it on his tongue, made Patrick moan. He still could remember the first time he did this, that night at Stevie’s, and how that final tiny doubt that maybe he wasn’t actually gay, maybe it was just some spell that David Rose had woven, evaporated in the face of how much he loved sucking cock. How he powered through that first blowjob fueled by determination and desire, a puzzle piece of his sexuality slotting into place.

Now he knew David’s responses so intimately, he could play him like an instrument. If Patrick wanted David to come in under two minutes, he could usually manage it. Or he could edge him over and over until David was clutching fistfuls of the sheets and begging, voice hoarse with desperation. Tonight he wanted to tease him, to pay him back for the bruises he could feel now on the inside of his own thighs, but his arousal was pushing him to suck harder, to take David deeper, the tip of his cock brushing along Patrick’s soft palate as he drew him in over and over, matching his rhythm to the shallow thrusts of David’s hips.

“Fuck, I love your mouth,” David gasped. “God, Patrick…” and then he was coming, Patrick letting it pool on the back of his tongue as he soothed David down, slowing and finally pulling off when David relaxed. Patrick swallowed as he wiped saliva from his chin.

“Come up here,” David whispered, gesturing vaguely with one hand. “Let me finish you off. Fuck my mouth.”

Even in the midst of his intense arousal, Patrick was tempted to joke that David was just offering that so that he didn’t have to move, but he elected to hold that comment in as he shuffled up the bed. David put an extra pillow under his head and then grabbed hold of Patrick’s hips, opening his mouth and letting Patrick push his cock inside.

Usually Patrick could grab hold of the strong metal bars of their bed when he did this, but in this hotel he only had the faux headboard that was affixed to the wall. He braced one arm against the wall and reached down to thread his fingers through David’s hair with the other, holding him gently in place as he fucked into his mouth.

“God, that’s hot, David. I love the way you take me,” he gritted out, trying to resist the urge to lose too much control, to thrust too deeply even though he knew David could tap out if he needed. Still, it was an overwhelming visual, the sight of his erection sliding into David’s mouth, and it didn’t take long for Patrick to tip over the edge, crying out as he came, fist clenching in his husband’s hair.

He collapsed at David’s side as David exhaled a long breath, ending on a giggle. “How is the sex between us even better now than it was three years ago?”

Patrick wasn’t sure if the question was rhetorical, but he thought about the answer anyway. While he thought about a serious answer, he gave a non-serious one. “It’s the hotel turning you on so much.”

David smiled. “It’s not, though,” he said softly, signaling his desire to have a sincere conversation.

Patrick rolled toward David and settled a hand on his chest, feeling for the thump of his heart. “Because we know each others’ bodies so well,” he said.

“Mmm. By that logic, when we’re in our eighties, our orgasms will be visible from space.”

“Visible?” Patrick asked, laughing.

“You know what I mean.”

Leaving that aside, Patrick said, “Well, by then I imagine that our aging bodies will have something to say about the sex being all that amazing.”

“Impossible. We’re immortal.”

Patrick lifted his head and pressed a kiss to David’s cheek, and then to his lips. “We’re not.” He knew it wasn’t what David wanted to hear, that he was killing the post-coital mood by saying it, but for some reason he couldn’t stop himself. “If we stay together for our entire lives then there will be messy physical stuff. There’ll be… one or both of our dicks will stop working—“

“Okay, that’s not going to happen.”

“It might happen at some point.”

“You can just feel free to smother me with a pillow if that happens to me,” David said.

“But David, if I murder you, I can’t be the beneficiary of your life insurance,” Patrick replied with a smirk.

“Mmkay.”

“I’ll love you even then, you know,” Patrick said. “When we’re old and wrinkled and have unreliable dicks.”

“That’s very sweet, but can we get back to talking about how great the sex is now?” David whined.

Patrick kissed him again. “The sex is excellent.”

David gave him a warm smile, one of those smiles that filled up his whole face and radiated out of his eyes. “It’s nice seeing you so happy.”

Something about the way David said it gave Patrick pause. He pulled back, putting a little bit of space between them. “You say that like it’s a rare thing.”

He could see a spark of worry in David’s eyes. “No, not rare. You’ve been… exhausted a lot this year, and… and I think this vacation came at a good time, that’s all. I’m glad you’re enjoying the city.”

“I am enjoying it,” Patrick said, but his brain was focusing on the first part, the part about how he’d been exhausted. How David had noticed. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want his mental state to be a burden to his husband, or to make him feel like he was in any way lacking. “I’ve been fine.”

“Okay.” David leaned up and kissed him gently. “Let’s get some sleep.”

Patrick shifted over onto his own pillow, watching as David rolled to face the opposite wall, scrunching his pillow under his head. Sometimes Patrick took it as an invitation to be the big spoon, but tonight he turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.

He just wasn’t getting as much enjoyment out of things these days, that was all. And that was to be expected, wasn’t it? They’d been running the store for close to four years, so of course the day-to-day tasks had gotten dull. At the same time, the stress of deciding whether it was the right time to open a second location was wearing on him, because no matter how much planning and calculating he did, ultimately it was a gamble. And Patrick wasn’t a gambler.

Meanwhile, the novelty of being a homeowner was wearing off a bit, and he’d found himself focusing on the downsides of it lately more than the upsides. Rather than spending his early mornings in their warm kitchen, looking out onto the back yard and feeling content, he was struggling to wake up when his alarm went off, brushing his teeth and noticing the water-stained vanity for the hundredth time, feeling inadequate because he hadn’t figured out how to fit replacing it into their budget when the Rose Apothecary expansion was looming.

But the truth was, even with all of that, sometimes he did feel happy. He’d been happy while he was planning for this trip to New York with the Roses, looking forward to seeing David with his family again and excited to see what the city was actually like with his own eyes. At times like that, it felt like depression was just in his imagination. It felt like maybe he hadn’t been depressed at all, or that he had been in the winter, but that he was over it now. But at the same time he could feel it lurking in the back of his mind, waiting for a weak moment. Telling him he was a bad son, or a bad husband, or a bad business partner. Telling him that he didn’t deserve David’s love, not when he couldn’t bring himself to get started on fixing up the bathroom.

Patrick lay awake for a long time, listening to David’s sleep-breathing, before finally falling into uneasy slumber himself for a few scant hours before waking with the early morning sun.

While David continued to sleep, Patrick pulled on some underwear and a t-shirt and shifted the curtains aside enough to look out. The view of Central Park from their room was breathtaking, and he paused to wonder how much the Roses had paid for rooms with that view. Unplugging his phone from the nightstand, he went back to the window and took a picture through the glass.

He looked from the window over to David, tousled black hair against acres of white bedding, bare shoulders on display. Patrick took a picture of that too.

After brushing his teeth and taking a shower, Patrick got back into bed to read until a more reasonable hour to wake David up. The rest of the morning passed with a leisurely breakfast and an Uber ride downtown to the Whitney Museum, which David had been talking about visiting for months. It had the added benefit of being close to Alexis’ apartment in Chelsea; they were planning to meet her later in the afternoon.

Patrick soon learned that he and David had different approaches to art museums. Patrick liked to read the placards about each painting, circling each room methodically as he went from painting to painting. David liked to take it all in for a while from the middle of the room before deciding which paintings to approach for a closer inspection, stepping forward and back as he looked for the best viewing distance. His failure to study the text about each painting didn’t mean he didn’t know things about them, Patrick quickly discovered.

“I love this one,” Patrick said as David approached from behind him.

“Mm, I knew you’d be a Hopper fan. What do you like about it?”

Patrick studied the sewing woman’s shoulders, the way her dress bunched, the prominent veins in her hand. “I don’t know, I just like it.”

David was waiting for him to say more, Patrick could tell.

“She looks delicate but also, look at her back and her arm. She’s strong.” Patrick glanced at his husband. “She reminds me of Alexis.”

David pinched his lips together, which could mean he disagreed, or it could mean he agreed but didn’t like that he agreed.

Patrick squinted at the painting again. “So what’s the meaning behind it?”

David waved his hand at that dismissively. “It’s something to do with the post-World War I isolation of the early 1920s, I seem to recall. But it means whatever you want it to mean.”

In the next room, Patrick gravitated toward a couple of strikingly colorful oil paintings of factories, criss-crossed with lines that carved out contrasting geometric shapes on the canvas. As he was reading the name of the artist, David joined him.

“Charles Demuth was gay, you know,” David said.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mm hmm. He started out doing watercolors of flowers and men in Turkish baths in the nineteen-teens and twenties. Then he switched to painting…” He gestured unhappily at the works Patrick had been admiring. “This.”

“You don’t like these,” Patrick said, although the answer was obvious.

“There’s a theory that he was attempting to shrug off the stigma of being an effeminate man with these Lancaster oil paintings. Also, the art world didn’t take his watercolors that seriously,” David said, twisting up his face like he smelled something bad, and… right. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why David wouldn’t like these paintings.

Patrick nodded, and stepped over to put his arm around David. “Do they have any of the Turkish bath paintings here?”

“Sadly, no,” David said with a smirk, still gazing at the oil paintings. “There’s also a theory that all those smoke stacks are just dicks.”

Patrick barked out a laugh.

Leaving the museum, they went to a nearby café to wait for Alexis. They sat at one of the outdoor tables, a wrought-iron railing topped with pots of white and purple flowers separated them from the foot traffic on the sidewalk. While they waited and David munched on a pastry, Patrick texted the picture he’d taken of Central Park from the hotel room to his parents, telling them that they were enjoying the trip. Then he texted a couple of the photos he’d taken of paintings in the Whitney to his cousin Justin. Justin usually didn’t respond to Patrick’s texts, but occasionally he did.

Justin 🌈: You should have gone to nyc in june for pride

Patrick realized that was a topic he’d never talked to David about. “Were you ever here for the Pride parade?” he asked.

David looked up from his book, eyebrows high on his forehead. “Sure, lots of times. I mean, I wasn’t down in the streets with the heaving mass of humanity, but I could usually get an invite to a party along the parade route, back in those days.”

Grinning, Patrick repeated, “Heaving mass of humanity?”

David scoffed. “You know how I feel about crowds.”

Patrick turned back to his phone. David doesn’t like crowds, he typed. I did learn today about a gay artist who painted a bunch of smoke stacks either to seem less gay or possibly to be super gay. Jury’s out on which.

Lol, Justin responded.

Patrick smiled at the fact that he’d achieved a successful interaction with his cousin.

“David Rose?” a voice called out, and Patrick looked up to see who was speaking. He got a quick impression of an attractive woman with a stylish haircut and clothes before he looked toward David to gauge his reaction to the approaching woman. As he watched, David put on a simpering smile, the one he used with difficult customers, and held out his hand.

“Eloise,” he said flatly. “What a surprise.”

“David, how dare you not tell me that you were going to be in town?” she said, ignoring the offered handshake and sitting down at their table without invitation. “Oh my god, how are you.” She phrased it as a statement, and Patrick doubted if she cared how David was.

“I’m very good — in town for a few days to visit Alexis.” Patrick felt David’s hand settle on his shoulder, scratching absently. “This is my husband, Patrick. Patrick, this is Eloise; she’s an old friend.”

Eloise’s eyes widened as she took Patrick in. “Hi, nice you meet you,” Patrick said.

“I feel like maybe I heard that you got married? And I didn’t believe it. David Rose wouldn’t get married, I said. No way.”

David’s eyes narrowed. “Well, I did. Two years ago.”

“But you’re not living in the city? Surely you’re not still in… where was it? Somewhere in Canada?”

Here it was, the thing that still nagged at Patrick every time David expressed displeasure with Schitt’s Creek. Every time he acted disgruntled about the lack of restaurant options, or grimaced at Jocelyn’s opinions at a social gathering. Because the reason they were ‘somewhere in Canada’ was that was what Patrick had wanted.

“Our store is in Canada, yes, so that’s where we are,” David said, and to his credit he didn’t look the least bit ashamed of that fact. His fingers continued to move over Patrick’s shoulder. “Patrick and I own a lovely cottage on quite a large plot of land out there for a fraction of the cost of a one bedroom apartment here. We love it.”

“But the culture, David. How do you live without the culture?” Eloise asked.

David smirked. “How much culture did we really take in back in the old days, Eloise? The VIP section at the hottest club of the season isn’t exactly the Guggenheim. Besides, we get back here to visit Alexis regularly.” Regularly meaning once in two years, Patrick thought, although they did intend to visit more often in the future, now that there was more money coming in from their online sales.

Eloise immediately started talking about herself, about parties she’d been to or people she’d seen. Patrick tuned her out — she hadn’t shown any interest in him and the feeling was mutual. He watched people passing by on the street, walking dogs or going quickly to jobs or moving slowly and hesitantly like tourists. Eloise quickly seemed to run out of steam, maybe because David wasn’t hanging as desperately on her every word as she wanted, and she stood from the table.

“I’ve gotta run, David, but how much longer are you in New York? We really have to catch up.”

“Absolutely,” David said, standing with her. “I’ll text you.”

They kissed in the vicinity of each other’s cheeks and Eloise loped away, her attention mostly on her phone.

David dropped back into his seat with a puff of air.

“Nice lady,” Patrick muttered.

“She’s a monster,” David said. “I’m not texting her.”

“Uh huh, I cracked that code.”

David laughed softly. “Wow, she was boring.”

“Probably not as boring as your husband, to be fair.”

That made David’s eyes flash. “You aren’t boring.”

Patrick chuckled, fiddling with a spoon on the table. “Yeah, I’m super interesting. Is it my knowledge of tax law or my books about baseball that do it for you?”

David looked a little bit hurt at that. “Everything about you does it for me,” he said seriously.

Alexis arrived at that point, interrupting them, and Patrick rose from his seat to accept her cheek kisses. David excused himself to the restroom.

Watching him go, Alexis said, “Is he okay?”

“Oh, some old acquaintance of his was just here.” He frowned; that wasn’t what had bothered David. “Actually, I think it’s me that’s been making him anxious.”

“Well, don’t do that, Patrick,” she said with a frustrated groan and a birdlike bob of her head. “Surely you know how to manage David’s anxiety by now.”

“No, I do, but…” What should he say? That he couldn’t exactly be the guardian of David’s emotions when he was struggling with his own? That he swore once, standing with David for the first time in front of their house, to make David happy, and that now he was doubting his ability to do so?

“Anyway, did you guys have fun today?” Alexis asked, unaware of his inner turmoil.

“Yeah,” he said, because he had. “David could have been an art museum tour guide in another life.”

Alexis nodded. “Because he talks too much and thinks too highly of his opinions?”

“I was going to say because he knows a lot about art, but sure, that too.”

“Well, I hope you didn’t wear yourselves out, because Mom and Dad have plans tonight and so we are going to go out and party like the young and vital people that we are.”

Patrick felt exhausted at the prospect of such an outing. “I mean, some of us are getting close to forty; I don’t know if young—”

Alexis flapped her hands. “Ugh, just David. You and I are young still.”

Laughing, Patrick consciously relaxed his shoulders. He could go with Alexis’s flow, surely. He was on vacation, after all.

Which was how he found himself a few hours later, a tiny bit drunk and grinding against David on the dance floor of a gay bar that Alexis had dragged them to. It was ridiculous and they were maybe too old for this and yet he loved it, loved getting to have this experience that he’d been robbed of by not figuring himself out sooner. Loved being sweaty and a little dizzy and watching a man with criminally nice arms dancing just over David’s left shoulder while David grinned at him.

“I love you,” Patrick shouted over the loud beat, euphoria swelling out from the bubble around him and David to encompass the other people on the dance floor and the DJ and Patrick’s sister-in-law, who appeared to be flirting with the woman tending bar.

David squeezed his ass in answer. “I’m glad you’re having fun,” he said against Patrick’s ear.

“I am,” Patrick said honestly. At a time like this, unhappiness seemed impossible.

(Chapter 4)

[cicici03]

Just Listen- Chapter 2

Hey Everyone! I’m so happy that you like this book so far! I love hearing y'all thoughts and hearing what y'all think about my characters. With y'all telling me and giving y'all input, that help find me look at my story plot, and to see if I should tweak it a little or keep it because of your feedback! So continue with the lovely feedback! Just know it is going be a lot of twists and turns in this story.

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As Tre slammed the door behind him all he could do was break down. He is trying to wrap his head around about the woman he loves. With their  14-year long relationship, and five of them years being married, they never fought like this.

Tre was silently praying to God. Lord, what is happening to my marriage? Help us please! As Tre was wiping his tears away, he saw the kids walking up slowly towards him. “Are y’all ready to go.” They all nodded slowly with not looking their father in the eyes. With Tre opening the door, Jakob and Amaya walked to Tre’s Ford truck to get in.

Before Mia walk completely out the door, she looked at her dad with a gloomy face.

“Daddy, you and momma has been arguing a lot. Can y’all please stop or get a divorce.”

Tre felt a pain in his chest as he looked at his daughter. His thirteen-year-old daughter or any of his kids was not supposed to feel like this. With her face looking just like Cierra, all he could do is feel bad.

With that, they both walked to the car with a cloud over their head.

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Cierra finally made it in the office before 7:45 and was not even thinking about what happen at home. However, she was about to give a good old- fashion cussing out to her assistant for messing up a deal that took months to negotiate.

As she walks into her office, she saw her assistant ,Angelo, waiting at his desk looking like a lost puppy.

“Angelo, Angelo, Angelo. Your ass almost was about to go apply for unemployment this morning,” stated while walking slowly to his desk. When she finally stops, he slowly looks up with puppy dog eyes.

“Now bitch, what would you do without my fabulous skills of not helping clean up the shit I mess up.”

Cierra gave a little smile to Angelo, which he knew that he is not in trouble no more.

“What am I going to do with you.” stated Cierra while walking into her office with Angelo following.

“Girl you would not have Ms. Ghetto Fabulous in the building. She will make sure you are getting your coin but will also help you cut a bitch if you need her too.”

Cierra just start shaking her head laughing at what this fool just said. Angelo is Cierra’s cousin, who got a lot personality, and just move to LA because he got kick out of cosmetology school in Houston due to altercation with a client who did not like her hair. With that, Angelo gave her a piece of his mind, but also “accidently” burn her in the process.

Angelo’s mom, Aunt Christy, ask her niece can he stay with Tre, the kids, and her for a while. Like she stated “You know Angelo is crazy. He gave his life to the Lord, but for some reason he has not been delivered from his crazy ways.” Cierra laughed at the statement because she knows it is true. Also, the sound of her sweet Aunt Christy angry, Southern voice did not help that either.

So, Cierra allowed for Angelo to move into the house for a few months, and to make sure he got on two feet so he could move his butt out.

“Do you know when Mike is going to get here for his appointment.” As she stated the words that was coming out of her mouth, Angelo rolled his eyes and just looked at her.

“Now Cierra, you already know I don’t like that man. All he wants to do is tap that ass, get a script from Ebonixs, and tell Hollywood that Trevante Rhodes wife slept with him,” responded as he gave Cierra a look.

Mike Johnson was a new upcoming producer of movies that started Angela Bassett, Micheal B. Jordan, and James Earl Jones just to name a few. Mike was a fine, dark chocolate man that just made any woman legs to open. However, Mike was a man that had a many woman, and was known for climbing over people to get to the top.

“Mike is truly a nice man. He brings many awards and standards for Black Hollywood. He might like to stick is penis in everyone, but he still a person,” said as she strutted to make sure she looks nice for her appointment with Mike

Angelo look at his cousin as she made herself all doll up and smiling. When Angelo move to LA a few months ago, he did not see Cierra look this happy. Oblivious to him and both Cierra and Tre, this is when Tre and Cierra’s marriage start breaking down. Angelo finally saw the smile that he loves, but it was not for the man she has been with since she was sixteen.

Angelo knew something was wrong with Tre and Cierra’s marriage due to him hearing some of the arguments at home before he moved out. Out of all those arguments, Cierra was the main aggressor. One-time Angelo had to intervene after one of those argument almost went too far.

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Angelo was in the passenger side of his date’s car coming from a late dinner they had. One thing is that Angelo absolutely hated the date. First, the fine brother did not want to pay for his half of the food. Second, the man is on the down low and they had to sit in the back. Finally, this is the part that really took him out, the man had three baby mamas.

With that, one of them decided to bring her lawyer to serve him papers because this man have 30,000 dollars in back up child support. That was when Angelo decided enough was enough.

“My nigga, you are a fine, gorgeous black brother on the down low and have back up child support. Please just take me back home before I blow you up,” exclaimed Angelo as he literally jogs with his finger wagging out of the restaurant with his date following close behind him.

“Well tonight was very eventful,” Angelo’s date stated while looking at Angelo with lust in his eyes. As they pull up to the gate of Cierra’s and Tre’s gated community, Angelo got his ass out and walk straight to Ms. Ernie, the security guard.

“Ms. Ernie can you take my ass back home,” asked Angelo with the most annoyed expression on his face. As Ms. Ernie look up from her newspaper with her glasses at the bridge of her noise. She got up and looked out the window and saw the man Angelo has been on date with.

“Angelo, baby, when are you going to stop using Grindr. Baby get like me and use Tinder! I know that got some gay people on there,” strolling out of the booth “I called Casey to take you home, but it is going to take him about thirty minutes.”

Angelo looked at the man, who kept telling him that he loved him and come out the closet for him. Lies. Angelo went through the door of the gate that the security guards and sashay his way to Cierra’s house with a deuce sign in the air.

He heard Ms. Ernie talk to the boy, which she stated “Baby if a black person is willing to walk somewhere, they do not like you! Baby it already looks desperate, get your ass in the car and go on about your business,” cackled Ms. Ernie while pushing him into the driver seat.

After 10 minutes of walking, Angelo finally reach Cierra’s house, which all the lights were off. He looked down at his phone and saw 12:14 a.m.  

He looks at the driveway and he realize that Cierra is not home yet. He quietly opens the door and tip toe up to his room. When he saw his bed, he saw heaven itself. He jumped on the bed and just took in the Tide smell of his comforter. As he was about to close his eyes, he heard a loud bang.

With Angelo being from the hood, he fell straight to the floor. Then it was following by Tre’s booming voice “Cierra why your ass just now getting back! Who is it Cierra?”

If Angelo could hear them, then he knew the kids could hear. Angelo tip toe down to see what was happening. Cierra was walking into her office with Tre following close behind her. “Tre it was just a lot of paperwork.,” Cierra sat in her seat and looked at her husband absolutely drained. Tre looked even angrier by her answer.

With that, he picks up the vase on Cierra’s desk and slam it to the ground. That caught Cierra’s attention because it was not just a regular vase, it was the vase that her grandmother Anita gave her before she died.

“What the hell is your fucking problem Tre! Why would you do that you bastard,” exclaimed the horrified Cierra on the floor with tears in her trying to piece it together. Tre did not back down from there either, “She would want to know if you are the cheating on me too!”

“Damn Tre, nobody is cheating on you. Your broke the one thing that I had left of her.” She looked up at her husband and she did not see her husband. She saw a man that personified anger. “I would not be this mad if you just tell me who you are sleeping with! No, scratch that, I am going be piss the fuck off. Just tell me who it is!”

Tre grab her arm tightly and pull her up. “Tre you are fucking hurting me. Get your motherfucking hands off me!” Cierra screamed and started punching him the chest. Angelo finally saw that he needs to intervene.

“Tre, Cierra come on now the kids sleep,” Angelo pushed them both off each other “Please y’all, I know yall don’t want the kids to see you like this.” In Angelo’s years of knowing them two as a couple he never seen them get so angry at each other.

“Tre what about you go and sleep in the guest room. Please Tre, you do not want to do anything crazy man,” Angelo looked at Tre with pleasing eyes. Tre look at Cierra crying hysterically on the floor at the vase. He realized what he done, “Cierra, baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.” Tre back away and took his keys off the table and ran out the door.

Angelo looked at his cousin crying hysterically calling out to their grandmother, “Grandma please help me! Please I need you more than ever.” Angelo saw his cousin heartbroken, all he could do was pull her in closely and rock her just like grandma use to do.

————————————————————

As he is recollecting that memory, Trevante was the main aggressor in that situation. Were there other times Tre being the aggressor? Angelo thought while looking at his cousin still dolling herself up.

After a couple of minutes, Angelo heard to the most annoying voice ever in his life. As he looked at Cierra, she realizes the voice and gave the biggest smile in her life. The voice exclaimed at the door, “Who is that fine, dark chocolate woman over there?”

Angelo and Cierra look at the door and there he was the infamous Mike Johnson. The man stands six foot even, with his all red outfit. This man looks like the red Power Ranger. While Angelo looked at him at the door. Mike walk over to Cierra and gave her a hug. A hug that was longer than ten seconds because Angelo counted.

Mike was whispering in Cierra’s ear and she was giggling like a schoolgirl. Angelo sarcastic cough loud enough for both to let go of each other. “Angelo, can you go to Logan’s office and tell her to rearrange the meeting for 2:00 for me,” Cierra slightly glanced at Angelo. Angelo look at Mike and Cierra.

He walked out the room, but he calmly said something before that last footstep out the door. “Cierra don’t do anything stupid.” With that, Angelo turn around to close the door and look Cierra dead in the eyes. Cierra looked at him, and Angelo could not read her.

Angelo went to his desk and looked at the clock, 8:30 a.m., even though Cierra told him to do something. He was about to sit there and listen for anything that sound suspicious in that room.

After two hours, he has heard nothing, but a couple of laughs, and he even thought he heard somebody crying. He called Logan to come down to his desk.

“Angelo, I heard you was almost heading into the unemployment office,” Logan laughed while walking to his desk. “Logan don’t come for me when I have not come for your fake booty and nose. Can you still breath with those small nostrils?” shouted Angelo while dying of laughter in his seat.

Logan looked at him with looks that could kill if that were possible. “What do your ass want anyway. My husband was about to give me some until you called me saying that it was urgent.”

Logan walked over to Angelo’s desk and sat on it. However, something caught her eye, Cierra’s door was close, and the door is never close until a certain somebody is here. “Is he here,” Logan mouthed to Angelo. “Yes, the hell he is,” Angelo mouthed back. Logan rolled her eyes and just shook her head.

Just as they were about to talk about, Mike walk out of the room. Angelo and Logan both to see if he looks dishevel. However, he was not and that surprise Logan. Logan loves her friend, but she been acting so suspicious. Angelo excitedly thought Thank the Lordt that I do not have to kill homeboy and Cierra.

“Mr. Red Power Ranger what was y’all talking about,” Angelo sarcastically looked at Mike. Mike laughed as he was closing the door. While, Mike was doing that, Logan saw just before the door close Cierra crying.

“Why the hell my friend is crying you Power Ranger,” silently said to Mike so Cierra would not hear. “You got my cousin crying, I hope you know I burn a hoe once, and I am not scared to do it again,” Angelo angrily stood up.

Mike started laughing, “You know what, that is between me and Cierra. Also, tell Trevante I said hi,” Mike amusedly said. “You know what if you even think about sticking your little wiener in my cousin. I will hurt you!” exclaimed Angelo as Logan pull him backed.

“Trust me if I really wanted to have sex with Cierra. I would have already fucked her better than her no good husband,” Mike walked with a smirk walking into the elevator, “Plus Cierra would have already left her husband and her kids would be calling me their dad.”

————————————————————-

So what do y’all think? Is Tre begin some of the arguments? What about Mike? Why was Cierra crying? So many questions that will be answer.

Taglist: @l-auteuse @munteanhore @Ijstraightnochaser @twistedcharismaaa

[morganaspendragonss]

Hey, I was wondering if you could do a TK sick or injured fic with the focus on Owen doing the comfort?? I’m loving your writing.

Hope you’re okay with sick and injured, anon, because that’s what I've written! (ao3)

This pairs as my submission for @911lonestarweek‘s day two prompt - I’ll be by your side. 

tw - implied/referenced homophobia, implied/referenced drug abuse and overdose, general injuries

The second Owen lays eyes on his son, he immediately knows he’d do anything to protect him from harm. He doesn’t know yet just how difficult that will be, but he suspects - although even his wildest suspicions don’t even begin to cover it. He still swears it, though, right there in the hospital, while Gwyneth is resting and Tyler is asleep in his arms.

“I promise, Tyler Kennedy Strand,” he whispers, almost so quiet he can’t hear himself, desperate as he is not to wake his son. “I’ll always be here for you. I’ll always protect you.”

i.

When Tyler is four - though they’ve switched to calling him T.K. now, his full name becoming too much of a mouthful, and just generally too much - he falls while playing with some friends in the park. 

At first, Owen expects him to get up and walk it off; T.K.’s tough like that. And, at first, it seems like he will. He pushes himself until he’s sitting rather than lying on the ground, but instead of getting to his feet, he just stares at his hands.

Owen’s up and moving before the first tear even begins to fall, kneeling next to his son and putting an arm around him protectively. T.K.’s not too injured, fortunately - he’s skinned both of his knees and there’s a tiny cut on his right palm - but Owen knows that the shock of the fall would have been worse than the actual pain itself.

T.K. sniffles and turns his face into Owen’s shoulder, his head tucked under Owen’s chin. 

“You’re okay,” Owen murmurs. He pulls away and tilts T.K.’s face up to look at him. “C’mon, bud. How about we get you cleaned up, then we can get some ice cream?”

T.K.’s face lights up and he bounds to his feet, injury forgotten. Owen is slower to get up, his knees cracking, but he smiles as he watches T.K. race around, grinning at the prospect of ice cream despite his bloody knees. 

Owen wishes all of a sudden that skinned knees and playground falls would be the only pain his son would ever have to worry about. 

ii. 

By the time T.K. is fourteen, it’s abundantly clear to Owen why his friends warned him about the teenage years. He’s angry what seems like all the time, pulling away from Owen and shutting himself in his room, snapping over dinner, and his grades are dropping.

Part of Owen knows this is normal - or, at the very least, something all parents have to go through. The other part of him knows it’s far from normal, even for a teenager; T.K. has had, after all, a far from normal upbringing. 

And, yeah, Owen knows pretty much every kid over the age of ten in New York has felt the impact of 9/11. Christ, the entire country - the entire world - felt it, maybe even still feels.

But not every kid’s dad was there. Not every kid had to deal with the fact that their parent might not come back - though their family was one of the luckier ones in that regard. Not every kid went through a divorce on top of everything else.

Point is, T.K.’s always had it harder than most, but Owen knows that still doesn’t fully explain this new behaviour. Particularly not when he gets a call one morning, telling him that T.K.’s been in a fight and could he please come in to collect him?

Except Owen can’t go, the alarm going off in the middle of the call, so the school just sends him home, though the woman on the phone clearly disapproves. Gwyneth normally deals with this kind of thing, but she’s away at a conference out of state, so Owen’s left to pick up the slack.

Fortunately, the shift’s only 12 hours, so he’s back home by seven; still not ideal, but it’s the better circumstance. T.K.’s sat on the couch when he gets in, a bag of frozen peas defrosting on the table next to him.

Owen clears his throat and T.K. whips around, exposing a split lip and a developing black eye. 

“You should see the other guy,” he says, but the joke falls flat, and he sighs, turning back around and hanging his head. Owen walks over and sits next to him, wincing at the way T.K. shifts away.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” he asks, as gently as he can. Anger, he’s decided, will not help here.

T.K. shrugs. “I got in a fight. It’s no big deal.”

“No big -” Owen stops and lets out a breath, forcing himself to stay calm. “Alright, let’s try this again. Why were you fighting?”

“It was nothing.”

“T.K.”

“Nothing, I swear!”

“So you just hit him?” Owen lets a little anger into his voice, and it’s enough to get T.K.’s attention, his gaze sliding over briefly before snapping back to the floor.

“No,” he admits. “It’s just. He said some stuff. Called me a -” He stops abruptly, then shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Owen raises his eyebrows. “So some kid called you a name, does that mean you should hit him?” he asks. “Come on, T.K., you’re fourteen, not four.”

It was the wrong thing to say, and Owen knows it as soon as the words leave his mouth. T.K. rounds on him, fury in his eyes, but it’s the tears that accompany it that surprise Owen. 

“You really want to know?” T.K. demands, though he doesn’t give Owen a chance to answer. “He told me it was my fault you and Mom split up. Said that it’s no wonder neither of you are around considering I’m a -” He stops, stricken. “A f - The f-word,” he finishes quietly.

Owen frowns. “Fuck?” he says, though he doesn’t mean to. He winces, but it’s enough to get T.K. to crack a small smile, brief as it is. 

“No, Dad,” he says, strangely gentle. “The other one.”

“The other… Oh.” 

“Yeah.” T.K. chews on his lip, then turns to Owen, apparently making his mind up about something. “It’s true, Dad. I’m a - I’m gay.”

“Oh.” And Owen knows that’s not the right thing to say, but he can’t find the right words just now. He watches his son, sorrow filling him at the tears in T.K.’s eyes, at the apprehension on his face, the doubt. Owen hates himself for it.

“It’s okay, kiddo,” Owen says eventually. “I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

“Really?” 

Owen smiles. “Yeah, really.”

And before he can get another word out, T.K.’s hugging him, so tight that Owen can’t breathe for a second. Once he’s got his breath back, he laughs, and brings his arms around T.K., only just then realising how much he had been missing this.

iii. 

The call comes in the middle of the night, just as Owen is finally dozing off after a 24-hour shift. He’s awake and pulling on clothes before he’s even aware he’s moving, calling a cab as soon as the woman puts the phone down. All his instincts are screaming at him to get in the car and drive, but common sense tells him that he’d probably crash it, tired and anxious as he is, and that’s the last thing everyone needs.

The cab doesn’t pick him up for another fifteen minutes, New York traffic playing havoc even at this late hour, and Owen gets more jittery by the second. By the time he’s en route, his mind has gone through every potential scenario, each one worse than the last.

Fuck, how could he have missed this? Sure, he’d noticed that T.K. had become more withdrawn from him recently, and he’s aware that his son likes going out and partying more than is advisable, but he’d just chalked it up to being young.

And yet… The more Owen thinks about it, the more he realises the signs were all there, and he’d missed every single one of them. T.K. had almost died tonight, and it’s all Owen’s fault.

He’s never going to forgive himself for this.

The receptionist at the front desk points him to T.K.’s room, her kind smile doing nothing to calm Owen’s nerves. He races there, earning himself several reproachful looks from staff, but he can’t bring himself to care. He needs to see his son.

T.K.’s room is dark, but through the windows, Owen can make out his prone form in the bed. His heart leaps in fear, but then he sees the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the heart monitor beeping out a steady rhythm. 

Owen breathes out shakily, taking a moment to compose himself before heading inside. 

T.K.’s awake, staring blankly up at the ceiling. He doesn’t acknowledge Owen’s presence in the room, and Owen feels his heart break a little, noting how thin, how small his son looks in the hospital bed. 

God, he’s really failed this time, hasn’t he?

But he drags his thoughts away from his own failures; T.K. is all that matters now. Owen eases himself into the chair next to the bed, debating whether or not to speak.

He decides against it eventually, instead just laying a hand on T.K.’s shoulder. T.K. looks over then, briefly, before returning his gaze to the ceiling. But he doesn’t brush Owen off, which he takes as his first victory.

Small steps, he tells himself. Small steps.

iv. 

T.K. rarely gets sick; even as a kid, he’d tended to avoid all the coughs and colds that plagued his school friends. His system had taken a hit after the overdose, but recently he’s seemed to have regained most of his old immunity.

Which is why it’s even more concerning when he calls in sick one morning, sounding even over the phone like death warmed up. Owen has to just take it at the time, no time to check on him before his shift, but he’s over to T.K.’s apartment like a shot as soon as he’s done, the fact that it’s the early hours be damned.

T.K. takes a while to answer his knocks, and Owen’s considering breaking in when the door swings open. 

“What the hell, Dad?” T.K. croaks, shuffling to the side to let Owen in. Owen doesn’t bother answering, instead surveying the mess strewn all around the place. T.K. doesn’t obsess over cleaning, but he’s generally fairly tidy, and never this messy; the table is buried in tissues, unwashed plates are stacked in the sink, and the laundry basket is overflowing. It makes Owen wonder how long T.K.’s been ill for without saying anything, but he chooses not to think about that too much.

But one look at his son confirms that he’s been feeling under the weather for a while - a few days, at the very least. He’s got tired bags under his eyes, and his face is pale and drawn. He’s hunched over, blankets wrapped around his thin shoulders, and he looks like he’s about to fall over any second.

It reminds Owen violently of the hell withdrawal had wreaked on T.K., on his body, though he’d been mercifully spared most of the fallout from that. T.K. had lasted it out in rehab and, whilst Owen had visited as much as he’d been able, he’d still had a job to hold down. 

He wonders if he should feel guilty about being grateful for that.

He shakes the thought from his head and steers T.K. over to the couch, easing him down into it even as T.K. weakly swats at him. Owen glances around the room again and sighs.

“Okay,” he says, then sets to work, starting off with the rubbish on the coffee table.

“Dad, don’t -” T.K. starts, but Owen sends him a look.

“Shut up, T.K.,” he says, and T.K. does. 

Owen cleans the entire apartment, guiding T.K. to bed as soon as he starts dropping off because falling asleep on the sofa is the last thing he needs. It’s late when he’s done; too late, he reasons, to go home now. His uniform’s with him in his bag and, besides, he knows he’ll sleep better here with T.K. in the next room. 

Sure, T.K. will probably be pissed when he wakes up and finds him still here, but Owen thinks that that’s a price he’s willing to pay.

v. 

T.K.’s silent the entire way back from the hospital. So is Owen. There’s no point trying to force a conversation now; T.K. will talk when he’s ready. 

They go back to Owen’s apartment, and T.K. heads straight to the roof. Owen is scared for a brief second, but then T.K. turns to look back at him, letting him know that he wanted Owen to follow.

T.K. barely looks at him as they talk, but it’s impossible to miss the shame and guilt in his expression. Owen tries to comfort his son as best he can, wishes he could tell him that everything’s okay, but he can’t. Nothing about this is okay.

He doesn’t know what to do. It’s all too much - Alex, the fact that Owen’s not sure it was as accidental as T.K. claim, his own cancer diagnosis. Even the New York air is stifling to him now.

Owen has lived in this city for pretty much his entire life. He loves it here. Everything he cares about is here. And yet.

Owen makes a split second decision.

“Pack your stuff,” he says. “We’re getting out of town.”

+1 

It’s the sort of thing Owen’s been dreading, ever since T.K. decided to follow him into firefighting. He’s always tried to shove the fear to the back of his mind, because their job is dangerous; getting hurt is an inevitability.

The job has put T.K. in the hospital before, but usually it’s just smoke inhalation, or some other simple, non-threatening injury. Nothing like this.

Owen’s trying to be optimistic; the doctors have told him there’s no reason not to be. T.K.’s young, healthy, and the surgery went as well as it could have done. But he also knows that T.K. almost died in that house, and there’s still a chance that Michelle just delayed it by a day or so. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to clear his mind. He succeeds, for a moment, but all the thoughts are back as soon as he opens them again, the sight of T.K. in that bed bringing too many memories back.

It’s the third time he’s almost lost his son, and the second in six months. He wonders morbidly if they’ve finally run out of chances, but he knows he shouldn’t think like that either.

This is different, though. Before, Owen was able to comfort T.K., to talk to him and hold him through the worst of it. He can’t do anything now except sit, and wait, and pray that T.K. will wake up. 

Helpless is not something Owen Strand is accustomed to feeling. And yet, as it settles deep inside his bones, he wonders if it will ever go away again.

[trashcanmarvelfan]

(Stand-Up) Routines and (Engagement) Rings

Summary: 2 years after the events of IT: Chapter Two, Richie brings Eddie out during one of his stand-up performances in order to ask a Very Important Question.

Warnings: Lots of F-bombs (like seriously there’s 1 for less than every 100 words or something but let’s face it, our gay little balls of sunshine can’t say anything without swearing)

Word Count: 2300-ish.

Author’s Note: The Reddie Fix-it Future Fic no one asked for. :) Enjoy!

CROSS-POSTED ON AO3

Richie Tozier paced back and forth backstage in the theatre at the Venetian  Resort as his manager watched him. “I don’t know if I can do this,” Richie muttered.

“Don’t worry, everything is gonna go smoothly,” Brian replied. “You’ll do great. Here.” He handed Richie a glass of what looked like vodka on the rocks.

Richie took a sip and grimaced. “What the fuck is this?”

“Black cherry Vitamin Water,” Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie’s childhood best friend and boyfriend of two years, replied from behind him. “You need to stay hydrated and get your vitamins in. This is the last stop of your tour, I’m not going to let you get sick right when you get a break to come home.”

Richie grumbled but took another sip as Eddie moved in front of him. The things I do for love, he thought.

He could tell Eddie was scrutinizing his outfit. Richie had chosen dark-washed jeans, a black T-shirt, and an olive green suit jacket for his performance this evening. 

Eddie brushed some imaginary lint off of Richie’s jacket before giving him a quick kiss. “You look great, babe.”

“Thanks,” Richie replied. His pocket buzzed and he pulled his phone out. He had a text from his & Eddie’s friend Ben. We’re here and in our seats.

Thank fuck, Richie thought, sending a quick k in response. He was glad that the rest of the Losers Club had made it to Las Vegas. Tonight was an extra-special performance – Not only was this the final show in Richie’s “Off the Rails” tour, tonight was the night that he would… Well. Richie would think about that when the time came so he wouldn’t make himself even more nervous.

The lights dimmed. “Showtime,” Eddie said, taking Richie’s glass from him and giving him one more brief kiss. “Knock ‘em dead, Rich.”

Richie took one more deep breath as he was announced.

Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage, Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier!

Richie stepped out on stage, waved at the audience, and grabbed the microphone. “What’s up, Las Vegas?” he greeted with a smile. “You guys feeling good?”

He grinned at the audience’s reply of cheers and hoots.

“It’s so fucking great to be here with all of you. At least now I’m not the only drunk one in the room.”

He grinned at the audience’s laughter. Interacting with his audience and making them laugh always helped calm him down, so he hoped tonight would be the same.

He continued through his act until he got to the final bit, where he usually talked about his & Eddie’s relationship.

“Alright, so I’m gonna get serious for a moment. As a lot of you probably know, I came out as gay a few years ago. Turns out all the dick jokes I made over the years were not only because I am a dick, but also because I like dick.”

He paused as the audience laughed. Here comes the surprise. “So yeah, anyway, I’ve been out for a few years now and it’s been nice not having to hide my relationship with my boyfriend. He’s here tonight, actually, you guys want to meet him?”

He turned to the wings. Eddie was staring at him like he’d grown an extra head. What the fuck are you doing, he mouthed.  

Richie grinned and gestured for Eddie to join him onstage. Come on, Eduardo, get your cute ass out here. “Aww, he’s being shy. Come on, babe, it’s ok.” He turned back to the audience. “He might need a little encouragement. Ladies and gentlemen, my boyfriend Eddie.”

The audience burst into applause and cheers. Richie could hear the rest of the Losers in the front row cheering, “WOO, YEAH EDDIE!”

After what seemed like an eternity Eddie finally stumbled onstage, where a stagehand ran out and handed him a mic. Richie suspected that Eddie had actually been pushed onstage, but the important thing was that he was actually out there.

Eddie gave Richie a look that said, you are in so much fucking trouble when we get back to the hotel tonight. “What’s up, fuckwad?” he said instead. 

Richie laughed along with the audience. 

“So yeah, everyone, this charming fellow here is my boyfriend, Eddie,” he explained. “We’ve been together for 2 years now but were best friends growing up, so we’ve known each other most of our lives. Although we did forget each other for 27 years – long-ass story, involves rampant homophobia and an evil demonic clown. And that was just Eddie’s mother.“ 

Richie saw Eddie shoot him an exaggerated glare as the audience laughed. "I kid, I kid,” he continued. “Actually, that title goes to his ex-wife.” He could see Eddie shaking his head at him, but at least there was no heat to it. Thank God Eddie knows most of my act. Richie needed to get through that part without accidentally pissing Eddie off before he got to the reason he brought him out on stage.

“So anyway, yeah, we were best friends growing up, then when we were 13 something changed – for me, anyway.” He chuckled. “I used to joke a lot when we were teenagers about fucking Eddie’s mom, but surprise, the whole time I actually wanted to fuck Eddie. Imagine his relief when he found out that saggy old boobs actually don’t turn me on.

We – along with our four other closest friends – have literally been through hell and back together. Twice, actually.” Richie paused again as the audience laughed some more. “But honestly there’s no one I’d rather have by my side in this insane thing called life than this motherfucker. So –” He broke off and turned towards Eddie, digging in his pocket and pulling out the small square box he had been hiding for the past month. He opened it and got down on one knee as a collective gasp rang throughout the theatre. “Eddie, my love, will you make me the happiest man alive by becoming my husband?”

Eddie, who had gasped and taken a step back when Richie had knelt, started nodding tearfully. “Fuck yes,” he said into his mic, then dropped it as he pulled Richie to his feet and into a kiss, burying his fingers into Richie’s shaggy hair.

(Richie had thought when he and Eddie first officially got together that Eddie would nag him to cut it, but it actually turned out that Eddie really liked both Richie’s hair and the noises Richie would make when Eddie would tug on it. Who knew that his Eddie Spaghetti had a hair-pulling kink?)

The audience went nuts, but Richie didn’t hear any of the noise. All he was focused on was his fiance. Fiance, sweetheart, betrothed, HUSBAND, Richie’s brain supplied helpfully. 

He pulled the ring, which was a simple platinum band, out of the box and slid it onto Eddie’s finger, pulling Eddie into an embrace. “I fucking love you,” he mumbled against Eddie’s neck.

“I fucking love you too,” Eddie replied. “So fucking much.”

Richie gave Eddie another kiss before turning back to the audience. “In case you guys didn’t catch that, he just agreed to put up with my bullshit for the rest of our lives.”

He wrapped an arm around Eddie’s waist. “Now if you guys will excuse us, we’ve got some celebrating to do. Thank you all for being a part of this with me, you’ve been a fucking fantastic audience. Good night!”

He and Eddie walked backstage to thunderous applause, where Bill, Mike, Ben, and Beverly were waiting for them.

“Oh my God, what the fuck are you guys doing here?” Eddie exclaimed. “I thought we weren’t seeing you until Friendsgiving next month.”

“We couldn’t miss our best friends getting engaged, could we?” Mike replied.

Beverly wrapped them both in a hug. “Congratulations, you two!”

“Thanks, Bev,” Richie replied. “Great to see you guys. Thanks for coming.”

Eddie turned to Bill and slugged him on the arm. “You fucker! I just talked to you on Wednesday and you said you were going to Atlanta for a film shoot this weekend.”

Bill just shrugged and patted both of them on the back. “Congrats, guys.”

“Yeah, congrats,” Ben echoed.

“It’s about time one of you put a ring on it,” Mike added.

“Shit, that’s right, your ring.” Richie picked up Eddie’s hand and gently twisted the ring off his finger. “I wanted you to see – I had it engraved on the inside.” He handed the ring to Eddie, who held it up to the light.

R + E

Eddie looked back up at Richie with a smile. “30 years later and you’re still carving our initials into things.” He pulled out his phone. “Hang on just a second.” He sent out a quick text message, then tucked his phone back into his pocket.

Richie grinned before taking the ring and sliding it back onto Eddie’s finger. “You know, this might be personal bias talking but I think platinum looks a lot better on you than gold,” he said, referencing Eddie’s wedding ring from his first marriage. 

Eddie smiled back at him softly. “Yeah you know, I think so too.”

They were interrupted by a stagehand. “Excuse me, Mr. Kaspbrak, here’s your coat that you asked for.”

Richie raised an eyebrow. “Jeez, Eds, are you in that big of a hurry to get back to the hotel to celebrate our engagement? Because you know, the limo is pretty roomy, we could start early.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, digging in the inside pocket of his coat. He pulled something out but kept whatever it was concealed in his hand. He handed Bill his coat. “Here, Bill, would you hold this for a minute? Thanks.”

Eddie took Richie’s hand. “I have something to tell you.”

“Oh my God, are you pregnant?” Richie asked jokingly.

“Jesus, Richie. Just shut the fuck up for a second.” Eddie shook his head fondly. “Anyway, I wanted to show you something as well, something… something I’ve been carrying since the day after my divorce from Myra was finalized.”

He opened his hand to reveal a platinum band very similar to the one currently resting on his finger.

 He handed it to Richie. “Check the inside.”

Richie examined the inside of the ring and caught a glimpse of an engraving. He tilted it to inspect it further.

E + R

His jaw dropped and his eyes flicked back over to Eddie, who was watching him with pure love in his eyes.

Eddie took the ring back. “I was planning on asking you to marry me at Friendsgiving.”

“Yes,” Richie blurted. His brain seemed to had gone offline again.

Eddie laughed. “Well considering you beat me to proposing and we’re now engaged I’d assume that would’ve been your answer, dumbass.”

Suddenly an idea struck Richie. “Hey Eds, since we are in Las Vegas, elopement capital of the world, what do you think about getting hitched tonight?” He gestured at their rings then at the rest of the Losers Club. “I mean we both have rings and the most important people in our lives are already here.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Eddie replied.

Fuck, I guess not. “Well, yeah, but you know what actually, nevermind, it was a stupid fucking idea anyway–”

Eddie was nodding his head. “–Shit, Rich, yes. Fucking YES, I’d marry you right this fucking second if we could make it happen,” Eddie replied.

Richie’s heart swelled with relief. “Well okay then, let’s fucking do this.”

Mike had pulled out his phone and was scrolling through it. “The marriage license bureau is open until midnight,” he read off, “so if you guys want to you can go ahead and apply online for a marriage license on the way there.”

“Ben and I rented an SUV while we’re in town, so we can all ride together if you guys want,” Bev offered.

Richie was already texting Brian so he could get a press release together. “Yeah that sounds great, just give us a minute to grab the rest of our stuff from the green room and cancel the limo that Brian had lined up to take us back to the hotel. Eddie hated it anyway, said it was pretentious.”

“That’s because it is fucking pretentious,” Eddie muttered.

“Ok, Beverly and I will go get the car and meet you guys out back?” Ben asked, taking Bev’s hand and giving it a squeeze. 

“I’ll come with,” Bill said.

“Me too,” Mike added.

Richie nodded. “Ok, we’ll see you guys in a few then.”

He and Eddie headed back to the green room and gathered the rest of their things. 

“That’s everything, right?” Eddie asked him.

Richie looked around. “Uh, yeah, I think so.”

“Ok, good.” Eddie turned towards the door.

“Eds, wait a second,” Richie said quickly.

Eddie turned back towards him. “What is it, Rich?”

Richie bit his lip. “Are you sure you want to go ahead and get married tonight? I don’t want you to feel rushed into anything just because everyone’s here.”

Eddie shook his head. “Yeah, I’m sure. We wasted so much time dancing around our feelings as kids, I spent the next 27 years feeling like half of myself was missing and not knowing why, then when we reconnected I was almost impaled by a fucking monster clown-spider, so yeah. I’m not putting anything else with our relationship off in case some other crazy shit goes down.” He smirked. “Besides, I want to spend the rest of my life annoying the shit out of my husband and the sooner I can do that the better.”

Richie grinned. “And I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life annoying the shit out of my husband.”

Eddie tugged him towards the door with a wink. “Then we better get going.”

[trickstump]

homeroom angel 

eddie kaspbrak/richie tozier rated e 5.5k 

thank you to @eddiekissbrak for beta’ing and cheerleading me through this journey. migz, you’re a real one. 

(read it HERE on AO3) 

Richie’s not looking for it.

Of course Richie’s not fucking looking for it, though; to look for it, he’d have to have had any idea that it existed, and the idea of Eddie doing anything like this was beyond unfathomable. It was a whole other level of this could never happen that even Richie fantasies couldn’t have predicted it- and he’d had some pretty wild ones.  

But. Here the fuck it was, skipping floors two through two hundred on the Wonkavtor and busting through the top of Richie’s head, staring back at him from the page of the magazine he’d picked up.  

Eddie. 

It’d been- there were so many fucking steps, really, to them even getting here in the first place. Richie had to have found this fucking magazine when he was in colleg- not this issue, god, not this issue; if Richie had picked up this fucking issue in college, he was sure his mind would’ve exploded. But, he had to pick up this magazine in the first place in college, furtive, snatching it off the rack at the drugstore and not bothering to pay because holy shit, he couldn’t stand the idea of looking the dude in the counter in the eye and paying for a porno magazine that shouted Boys! Boys! Boys!

So. He had to pick up this magazine, and then, in a drunken fit just after his first few paid shows, he had to buy a subscription to this magazine- fake name, correct address- meticulously updated every time he moved so that it could be delivered right to his door packaged in a discreet envelope, and occasionally shoved into the bottom of his suitcase while he was on the road, because he liked to have the company of Mr. January 2016 on cold nights in decent hotel rooms.

 And, then, he had to be subscribed at just the right time, because he’d really been about to cancel his subscription entirely when the throwback issue came out. It was getting fucking dangerous, having his porn hand delivered to him like some kind of creepy old man, when Eddie had just moved in after trekking out to LA as a part of his post-Derry, post-divorce midlife crisis. There’d been an incident last month when Eddie’s found mail with the fake name that had lead to Richie having to sneak back out to the mailbox in the dead of night to do some recon before Eddie’s neat little “return to sender; does not live at this address” got his jerk-off material for the month taken away. It was the modern era; he should just make the jump and start going digital, anyway. 

So. Petty theft, years of furtively waiting for his monthly fix of scantily clad men to arrive via the US Postal service, and someone somewhere’s visonary idea of “let’s just reuse some fucking old pictures this time; these dipshits’ll crank it to anything, I’m sure” culminated to this:  

Eddie.  

Not Eddie, now- obviously, not Eddie, now. That’d be fucking insane, and Richie would be losing more of his mind than he’d already lost. He’d just been flipping through the issue, admiring this and that, and- he’d almost skipped the pages on his first thumb-through, absentminded and half hard, free hand resting on his leg, when he saw the flash of a leg and flipped back.

And then, there was Eddie. 

Younger- a few decades younger, the little white Times New Roman in the corner told him; Eddie, November 1999. November, Eddie’s birth month- happy fucking birthday to him. He only caught it the second time he looked at the picture, flipping the page and then flipping back to make sure his mind wasn’t just projecting the image of a younger Eddie onto the pages. 

It wasn’t. 

It was Eddie- his Eddie, flushed a little pink in the way he got when he was flustered, doe-eyeing the camera. His mouth was just as pink as his cheeks and hanging open just a bit, and Richie spent so much time looking at his face, he almost forgot to look at the rest of him- all of the rest of him, most of all of the rest of him, because thank god, this was not where he was seeing Eddie’s dick for the first time. Narrow avoidance, though, only because of the artful drapery of the fugly pink fur- rug? blanket?- monstrosity they had barely draped over the area, which let Richie see everything except his dick. 

God. He couldn’t even fucking think about Eddie’s dick right now. Not that he let himself think about Eddie’s dick too much, anyway. He’d think about being in love with Eddie all day long, and maybe about the fucking phenomenal sex they could be having every so often, mostly when he was lonely on the road, because there was a weird line when it came to being in love with your childhood friend, and that line was drawn exactly on the other side of “jerking off thinking about him while he’s sharing an apartment with you.” 

Speaking of, Richie’s dick went from being passively interested in the goings on to standing at attention like a goddamn car lot flag pole the second he had enough brain cells to process what he was seeing. He was achingly hard, now, and at the same time frozen in place, free hand now gripping his leg so hard he was going to leave a bruise. He couldn’t do anything but stare, heart racing like he was running a marathon.  

It was the best thing he’d ever fucking seen, and he needed to stop seeing it. 

“Hey, Richie?” 

Eddie’s voice outside his door jumped him into action, and Richie dropped the magazine like it was burning him. “Uh- yeah?” His voice broke on ‘yeah’, and he really, really sounded like a kid whose mom was two seconds from walking in on him jerking it. 

Eddie, for his part, didn’t seem to pick up on it- or, more likely, he was just fucking polite enough not to call him out. “You coming out so we can go eat or what, dude?”  

Fuck. Richie had been so caught up in a past where Edward fucking Kaspbrak, world’s stuffiest man and love of his life, had posed for a gay porn magazine that he had forgotten about the present where said childhood sweetheart was expect him to get dinner. “Oh, for sure.” He’d managed to get control of his voice, because he was a goddamn professional. “Just give me a second, man, I’m not decent.” 

“You’ve never been decent in your life,” Eddie huffed. “But, fine. Be out in, like, five minutes or I’m gonna eat without you.”

Richie waited until he heard Eddie’s footsteps disappear to exhale, and then it was just him and- well, him and Eddie again, still staring up at him from the centerfold with a look that Richie had barely ever even dared to imagine he could pull off. 

Fuck. 

He gave himself a few moments to breathe, eyes squeezed shut least the air he was just getting back into his lungs be stolen again, and he flipped the magazine closed before he opened them again. This was- definitely crossing the line he’d drawn for himself, and he should probably just throw the whole thing out before he jumped over the line and directly into something dangerous. 

But.

But, he couldn’t bring himself to- for a lot of reasons, really, chief among them the fact that he knew having a missing issue in his back catalogue would drive him absolutely fucking insane, and totally, totally, not because he couldn’t imagine ever getting rid of the only proof he had of the divine fact that Eddie could have “fuck me” eyes. Totally. 

So, instead of the trash can, or the back of his closet in a box where the rest of the issues went, Richie played into the full fantasy of being in college again and shoved the magazine under his mattress, resolving to deal with this later. The rest of his five minutes was spent trying to will his dick to sit back down by any means necessary- mostly by thinking about Eddie’s mom, which was an irony that Richie was too wired to appreciate in the moment. 

Thank fucking god they weren’t going out or anything. Eddie had just picked up cooking in his quest for independence, and liked to show off whenever Richie was home, which Richie didn’t mind in the slightest. He’d survived the last several decades on his own on Hot Pockets and takeout whenever he was home, and room service or fast food when he wasn’t.  

Eddie cooked, and Richie did the dishes. It was disgustingly domestic, and thinking about the concept rather than the action actually made Richie happy to do it, instead of mildly irritated. Love was a hell of a drug. 

He couldn’t really focus on the food tonight, though, because every time he looked up across the table- because Eddie made them eat at the table, like what the fuck was that?- he was faced with Eddie, who hadn’t changed enough in twenty years for Richie to be able to not see flashes of his pink lips and flushed cheeks every time he saw him.

It was like being haunted by a sexy, sexy ghost. 

“And I- Jesus, dude, are you even listening to me?” Richie blinked when Eddie waved a hand in front of his face. “Earth to Richie; you look like an idiot, man. What’s up with you, is there something on my face?” 

“Uh,” Richie said, trying to say anything but ‘hey, you used to be, like. Hot, in college or whatever’, but obviously not reacting fast enough for Eddie’s tastes. 

“I already got the fucking mole checked, it isn’t cancer,” he said, and that was Richie’s Eddie, vision snapping back into focus. 

“I’m not staring at your fucking mole, dude,” Richie said, rolling his eyes. “Also, aren’t they only like… cancerous if they have hair in them, or something?” 

“No,” Eddie said, and sucked in a breath, and that launched them into a conversation- well. A tirade from Eddie with color commentary from Richie, really, and that was more like their normal dinner conversations, enough that Richie could phase out his lust for past Eddie and focus on the warm fuzzies that having this Eddie in his life gave him.

 Dinner and dishes done and conversation still rolling, though they’d cycled past about twenty different topics now, they moved on to the post dinner ritual of turning on the TV and not-watching Wheel of Fortune in favor of not-cuddling on the same couch, even though there was definitely a perfectly fine recliner in the room. This was the kind of thing that made Richie think that maybe, just maybe he had a chance in hell in all this- but, fuck if he was going to make the first move, so he just sat there with his arm flung over the back of the couch, hand dangling just so it brushed Eddie’s shoulder, and pretended he gave a shit about whatever Pat Sajak was saying, and wasn’t just watching Eddie.  

Because Eddie was double his age at heart, Wheel of Fortune faded into Jeopardy, and when Jeopardy faded into whatever the fuck came after, right on cue, Eddie yawned. “I’m going to bed,” he said, and Richie nodded.

“I’ll probably turn in, too,” he said, and they both just sat there for a few seconds after Richie turned off the TV, something- something- lingering between them. This part, too, was part of the norm; there was something one of them wanted to say, needed to do, but Richie was too chicken shit to be the one to do it, and Eddie was- well, Richie wasn’t sure what Eddie was, scared, nervous, too freshly out of an intensely shitty relationship, but what it boiled down to was Eddie yawning in again, breaking the moment, and saying “g’night, Richie,” as he got up, and went to his room. 

Normally, Richie’d just sit there for a few moments and stew in the moment he let pass again, but tonight, he only had to sit there for a second before he remembered what he’d been trying to get out of his head since dinner. 

He felt like a burglar in his own home, tiptoeing back to his room and closing the door. He thought about keeping the light off, for a second, but flipped it on at the last second. If he was going to be crossing the fucking line like this, he may as well be able to fucking see it in its full glory.  

He settled onto the bed and pulled the magazine out from under his mattress in one smooth move, flipping it open to the page without having to search, like the universe knew exactly what kind of self destruction he was looking to do. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and when he looked down on the exhale, Eddie was staring back at him, legs splayed and back arched artfully, like he’d just been waiting for him this whole time. 

“Hey there,” Richie said to an empty fucking room, and too much brainpower had already switched to dick power for him to be embarrassed about it. It didn’t take too long for him to get fully hard again- because it was fucking Eddie, of course it didn’t, and Richie wasn’t in the business of teasing himself when it came to jerking off, so he inelegantly wriggled out of his sweatpants and boxers, kicking them to the bottom of the bed. 

It was a little awkward, balancing the magazine in one hand while he had the other on his dick, but Richie was a pro at it, at this point. Normally, though, he’d only look at the magazine for a bit  before he let it fall aside, letting his mind do the rest of the work. Tonight, he couldn’t make himself put it down, though, because putting it down would mean he wouldn’t see how fucking right Eddie looked, laying back on that stupid, ugly pink fur, arms draped above his head and legs spread wide.

“Fuck.” He didn’t say it very loud, but Richie felt like he could hear it echo through the empty room. This was going to be the shortest fucking jerk off session he’d had in maybe his entire life, but, that should really be expected, considering the circumstances, and- 

“Hey, Richie, do you think I should get this mole checked again, because I really-” 

The world stopped. 

Eddie- real Eddie, now Eddie- was standing in the doorway. Fuck, normally, he’d knock, but Richie guessed the mole thing was really fucking bothering him, because he’s just slammed it open and given Richie no time to react. They both froze, when they locked eyes, and Eddie realized what was going on, and his face skipped right past the pretty pink Richie’d just been looking at to bright fucking red. “Oh. You’re- busy.” 

“Yeah.” Richie’s hand had not moved from his dick, nor had he moved to put the magazine down, or cover himself up, or anything a normal fucking person would do. Instead, his gaze flicked from Eddie, down the magazine, and back. “I, uh- sorry.” 

“Oh my fucking god,” Eddie said, and Richie felt his heart jump into his throat for a second as Eddie started moving towards him, and- laughing? “Dude, is that a fucking magazine? What is it, the fucking sixties?” 

“Fuck you!” Richie was finally moving, now, but it was mostly to jerk the magazine out of Eddie’s reach when he reached for it. Eddie didn’t seem to care that his fucking dick was out, so Richie was gonna ignore it for the time being, and hope it went away. “It’s artful, man.” 

“You’re such a grandpa,” Eddie snorted, managing to snatch the magazine away from Richie and dance just out of reach before he could snatch it back, flipping through the pages. “Is this fucking vintage magazine porn? Richie, you’ve got to be fucking kidding m-” 

The last part of the sentence died on Eddie’s tongue as he reached the centerfold, and he went pale as a ghost. “I, uh-” 

“You looked, like... Really fucking good.” That was the wrong thing to say, the stupidest thing Richie could’ve possibly said, but he spoke before he thought. 

“It- college, man.” Eddie didn’t seem like he was entirely in himself as he spoke, still staring down at the page. “I… I wanted to feel hot. So.” 

Eddie’s voice was so fucking small when he said it, it made Richie’s chest ache. “Wanted to feel hot?” he asked, sitting up a bit. “Dude. Eds, you are hot.” 

“I mean, I used to look pretty good- I worked out and shit.” Eddie shrugged, finally putting the magazine down, setting it on Richie’s bedside table. 

“I didn’t say ‘used to’,” Richie said, using his single ounce of courage for the rest of the year. “I said you are hot.” 

“Present tense?” Eddie’s gaze snapped from the carpet to Richie’s face, brow furrowed, seemingly searching it for... something. Richie wasn’t sure if he found it or not. “You think so?”

“I’ve always thought so,” he said, because he had, and if he was being honest, he may as well go the whole way with it. Fuck the line.

“Fuck, Richie.” The two words left Eddie’s mouth in one gust of breath, and before Richie could add anything onto his confession, Eddie had surged forward, and kissed him, hands on either side of Richie’s face, holding him like he was something precious . It was honestly a very sweet kiss, for how inelegant it was, and the fact that Richie’s dick was still out, several decades worth of longing and things unsaid pushed from both sides. 

When they pulled away, they were breathless, and Eddie’s forehead was resting against Richie’s. “You were really gonna sit here and jerk off to my fucking picture while I was a room away, huh?” he teased, and even if Richie knew it for what it was, guilt wormed its way into the pit of his stomach. 

“The fuck else was I supposed to do?” he shot back. “Knock on your door and go, ‘hey, Spaghetti-O, I know you’re in the process of doing your old lady skin care routine so that you can pass out by ten like some kind of retiree, but I need you to know that I found your ancient nudes, and they dredged up every fantasy I’ve ever had about you and then some. Thoughts?’” 

“Yes,” Eddie said, and then, “You’ve had a lot of fantasies about me?” 

“You’re the only person I’ve ever fantasized about,” Richie said, and he hated how fucking honest he was being about that. “Even when I didn’t know it was you, it was always- the shape of you, the flash.”

“You’re not allowed to be that romantic when your fucking hard on is digging into my hip, man,” Eddie huffed, and then he kissed Richie again. This time, there was nothing sweet about it, all heat, biting and sucking, and when Eddie pulled away to kiss down Richie’s neck, there was nothing he could do but bite back a moan. “And, yeah, you should’ve fucking come to me. You don’t need the fucking magazine when you have the real thing.” 

“Have I got it?” Richie asked, and he wasn’t even sure what he was asking, but Eddie stopped pawing at his shirt for a second to give him the answer that he needed, anyway. 

“Richie,” he said, deadly serious and flushed the same shade of pink he’d been in the picture, now. “You’ve always had me. Now, take your fucking shirt off.”

Richie didn’t have to be told twice, and by the time he got the rest of the way undressed and retrieved his glasses from where he’d flung them across the bed in the process, he was treated to Eddie having done the same, stepping out of his sleep pants, silky, stupid, monogramed button down hanging off his shoulders. “God.” He couldn’t help the outburst, and it made Eddie look over to him with a smile- no, a fucking smirk, crawling back onto the bed like some kind of stupid sex kitten from an eighties porno and letting the shirt drop to the floor in the same move. 

“Like what you see?” 

“You already know I do, asshole,” Richie said, rolling his eyes at the line and running his hands down Eddie’s sides and back up again in the same motion. “You’re fucking hot, Eddie.” 

“I like hearing you say it,” Eddie said, surging to kiss him again. He’d settled on Richie’s lap, sort of, straddling his hips, and it was fucking rewarding to feel that he was just as turned on as Richie was, even if Richie couldn’t bring himself to look down at his dick yet. That was a shade too far; he wasn’t sure he’d be able to recover. 

“You’re fucking hot,” he said again, sort of mumbled into Eddie’s shoulder as he pressed a kiss there, and started working his way down. “I’ll keep saying it, then.” 

“You’re- shit, Richie, we’re not fucking kids, you can’t just go giving me hickies all ove- oh, you’re probably the only person I’ve heard it from in, like- a decade,” Eddie’s head was tipped back, eyes fluttering shut, and it was such a pretty scene Richie almost didn’t process what he’d heard. 

“No one’s told you you were hot in ten fucking years?” It sounded so impossible to Richie; who the fuck could miss all this, even with the not at all provocative polos and button downs Eddie usually wore- or. Well, Richie found them provocative, but he found everything about Eddie appealing in one way or another. 

“I- fuck- was married,” Eddie said. “And we weren’t, like… that kinda couple.” 

“Her loss,” Richie said. “My gain. You’re so fucking hot.” 

“Your gain,” Eddie echoed, and he was smiling, so fucking gentle that Richie forgot how to breathe, and also the fact that he was supposed to be ravishing him. “Do you, uh. Wanna fuck me?” 

Richie’s brain stopped working. “Do I want to fuck you? Eddie. Eddie, I think if I don’t fuck you, I’ll die.” 

“You won’t die,” Eddie huffed, even though Richie wanted to protest when he removed himself from his lap. “Do you have, like. Lube and shit?” 

 “First drawer on the left.” Richie made a vague gesture towards his dresser, and readjusted to give Eddie more room on the bed when he came back.

“I haven’t fucking done this in years,” Eddie when he found what he was looking for, tossing the bottle at Richie. “So, you’re gonna have to, like. Be patient.” 

“I’m so patient,” Richie said, fumbling to catch it and then fucking up his first few attempts at getting the cap open in his haste, undercutting his whole statement. “I’m like fucking Buddha, man. Did you- want to grab a condom?” 

“I checked, yours are expired,” Eddie said, settling back onto the bed. “Which tells me, like, how little sex you’ve been having. We can, like… make a run, if you really want one? But- I’m clean, and I… if you are, then.” 

“I am,” Richie said, maybe a bit too quickly, because the idea of raw dogging Eddie was the closest he’d had to a religious epiphany in his whole life. “I- am.”  

“Good,” Eddie said, the word coming out like a sigh as Richie repositioned himself once more, looming over him to steal a kiss. “Then, do you wanna do this part, or should I?” 

“Can I?” Richie was getting gift after gift tonight, feeling like Christmas goddamn Day when Eddie nodded. He shifted down again, getting probably too sloppy with the lube as he coated his fingers. Whatever, he’d change his sheets later. 

He couldn’t take his eyes off of Eddie’s face as he pushed his first finger in- slow, so fucking slow, because he was being patient, and gentle. The pink was back in his cheeks, and his eyes were half lidded, eyelashes fluttering every time Richie’s finger moved, small noises Richie wasn’t even sure he knew he was making falling from his lips. “Fuck, Richie.” 

“You good?” Richie was breathless- he’d been breathless a lot in this; maybe he should ask if Eddie had any of his old inhalers lying around. 

“Am I good?” Eddie almost sounded like he was going to laugh, but Richie must’ve hit something good before he could, because the noise turned into a drawn out moan. “Jesus, Richie. Another- another, and harder, and fucking do that again.” 

“You’re so bossy,” Richie snorted, but he did what he was told because he kinda liked that Eddie was bossy. 

Two more fingers and several minutes later, Eddie’s eyes looked like they had almost rolled back in his head, and he was tugging  Richie’s hair. “Okay, you’ve- you’ve gotta fuck me now, or I think I’m gonna lose it.” 

“Losing it is the point,” Richie said, even as he drew his fingers back. The whimper Eddie let out when he did was intoxicating. 

“Not before I’ve had your dick in me,” he countered. “I’ve waited way too fucking long for this, and I’m not gonna be waiting until I get it up again because I came like a fucking college kid before we got the main event.” 

“Then here comes the show, baby,” Richie said, shifting once again. He had to manhandle Eddie a little bit so that they were both positioned properly, handing him a pillow to put under his hips because neither of them were fucking twenty somethings anymore, and he was realistic about the level of crazy they could be getting here. 

Eddie rolled his eyes as he readjusted himself. “Don’t call your dick ‘the show,’” he said. “Even if it’s- Jesus, Richie, where do you even fucking put that thing?”

“I’ve never exaggerated a big dick joke in my life,” Richie said, a little smug because fuck yeah, finally, some respect. 

“I guess not,” Eddie said. “But, having a big dick doesn’t mean you know how to fucking use it.” 

Richie’s eyes narrowed. “That a challenge, Eds?” 

“Just an observation,” Eddie shot back, laying back on the bed and looking up at Richie with a smile that was definitely a challenge. “Prove me wrong.” 

Richie took that as his cue to do exactly that, lining up and pushing in- just a bit, at first, small thrusts of his hip before Eddie kicked- literally, fucking kicked, the asshole- him into action. “We just spent twenty fucking minutes working me up to this, Richie,” he said. “Fuck me like you mean it, now.” 

“I’m trying to be a gentleman, so you can sit pretty in your desk chair tomorrow,” Richie said. 

“You can be a gentleman next time,” Eddie said- and, holy shit, next time. “This time- fuck me like you mean it.” 

Richie didn’t have to be told twice. He was really, really considering maybe starting going to church again, with all the religious experience he was having this night, but he could mull that thought after he finished processing how fucking good Eddie looked, gripping Richie’s sheets as he rocked into him, slow at first and then building. “Jesus Christ, you’re fucking phenomenal.”  

“Stop using words with more than three syllables,” Eddie said, eyes fluttering shut and then open again, locking with Richie’s and not moving. “Your dick is turning off my brain.” 

“Phenomenal,” Richie said. “Effervescent. Show stopping, beautiful, an absolute fucking knock-out-” 

“Shut up,” Eddie moaned, tugging Richie down and kissing him. “You’re already fucking me, you don’t have to flatter me.” 

“It’s not flattery if you’re fucking everything,” Richie said, and that got Eddie’s eyes to widen.

“Everything?” he asked, and his voice was way, way too gentle for the moment. It seemed like an important question, for being only one word. 

“Everything,” he echoed, sure, more sure than he’d ever been about anything in his life. “Always been, Eds.”

“You can’t just say that shit, Richie,” Eddie said, but he kissed Richie again, and when he pulled away, added: “Say it again, anyway.” 

“You’re everything,” Richie repeated, and it became a mantra. “You’re everything, Eds,” like he was trying to burrow the idea so deep in Eddie’s mind he’d never fucking doubt it again, for better or for worse. They were fucking clinging to each other, now, and Richie wasn’t sure when this had turned from fucking to romance novel love making, but he wasn’t about to stop it. There was no way he could detach his feelings from this, if any of the shit he’d been saying didn’t make that obvious on its own. 

It only took a few more minutes of everything, you’re fucking everything, you’ve always been everything for Eddie to tighten around Richie, whole body curling like a spring when he came between them. “Richie, Richie, holy fucking shit-” 

“I’ve got you,” Richie said, sounding wrecked, because he was fucking close, too- he’d been close before Eddie’d come in, it was a wonder he hadn’t already blown it like a virgin- and he needed Eddie to know it. “I got you, I got you.” 

“Richie.” Eddie sounded just as wrecked, and it just took one look at his face- pink lips, pink cheeks, doe eyes blown wide under his lashes- to push him over the edge, coming with Eddie’s name on his lips. 

“Fuck.” His arms gave out, as he came down, and he flopped on top of Eddie. “Fuck, I think I’m dying.” 

“Don’t die with your dick still in me, idiot,” Eddie huffed, nudging him until he shifted and hissing as Richie pulled out. “God, I forgot this part.” 

“The afterglow?” Richie flopped on the other side of the bed now, and was pleased when Eddie shifted and followed, tucking himself against Richie’s side.

 “The part where I need to fucking shower,” Eddie said, making no move to get up.

“Do it later,” Richie said. “I’ll hop in with you, save water.” 

“If you hop in with me, neither of us are getting clean,” Eddie snorted, and god, if Richie hadn’t just came, that would’ve done some shit to him. 

“All the more reason,” he said, tucking Eddie a bit more securely into his side and dropping a kiss to the top of his head, getting a little bold. 

“Did you mean all that stuff?” Eddie asked after a beat of silence. “About-” 

“You’re everything,” Richie said, and he could feel Eddie’s breth hitching without even looking at him, because he wasn’t brave enough to do that right now. “Always been. It’s… yeah.” 

“Always?” Eddie sounded like he couldn’t believe it, which was stupid, because of course it was true. 

“Which part of that did you miss, Eds?” Richie asked. “The part earlier where I told you you were the only guy I’d ever fantasized about, or the way I used to follow you around like a puppy when we were kids, or-” 

“Shut up,” Eddie said. “It’s- you were my everything, Richie, so please, give me a damn minute to adjust to the reality that I haven’t been stupid for thinking that maybe you felt a little the same the whole time.” 

“Take a minute, then,” Richie said, because, oh, he didn’t know what to do with that, so he probably needed a minute, too. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Neither am I,” Eddie said, and that made Richie relax a little bit. “I’m staying here, tonight, by the way. I’m not sure my legs work.” 

“That good?” Richie hummed, smug, and Eddie didn’t answer, but the kiss he pressed to Richie’s shoulder did for him. “Told you, I’m fucking good.”

“One time doesn't count,” Eddie said. “You’re gonna have to give a repeat performance.” 

“Oh, I’m gonna,” Richie said. “A few- later. Probably not tonight.” 

“Probably not tonight,” Eddie agreed. “But- soon.”  

“I’ll fuck you every night I’m home if you let me, Eds,” Richie said, and sounded a lot more lovesick than he intended. 

“You’re taking me to dinner, first,” Eddie said. “Nice dinner, that I’m not cooking.” 

“Deal,” Richie said. “It’s a date.” 

“A date.” He turned to look at Eddie, then, and he was grinning like Richie had just done something amazing. “Good.” 

Richie had to kiss him for that. “I’m getting that picture framed, by the way,” he said as they both tucked in for the night. “We can hang it in the living room.” 

“We have people over, Richie,” Eddie said. “You’re not putting my nudes in the fucking living room.”

“They’re tasteful!” Richie protested. “And, like. That wasn’t a no on the framing.” 

“It’s a good picture,” Eddie said. “But, not in the living room.” 

“My office it is, then,” Richie said. “I’ll hang it right behind me, so when I do Skype interviews, it’s there.” 

“You’re the absolute worst,” Eddie groaned, but he kissed Richie again, so Richie decided he was gonna take that as ‘maybe.’ 

[ilovemygaydad]

part 5/? of punk!patton gets adopted by single parent logan

part one - part two - part three - part four - ao3 version - masterlist (includes asks and art!)

pairings: moxiety, eventual logince, background pining remceit, mentions of past thomas/female oc

warnings--these are very important this chapter: food mentions, stress, anxiety, kissing, flirting, divorce mentions, making out, mentions of murder (i’ll mark it out), attempted murder, guns, gunshots, gun wounds, head trauma, homophobic parents mention, homophobia, there’s so much swearing i am so sorry, maybe something else

a/n: no joke i’ve had this planned out since before the last part came out, but i literally just couldn’t write it all at once, and i’ve been having a really emotionally weird week. next chapter should start out pretty funny. idk. please enjoy this.

a/n 2: sorry that this took so long to get out. i don’t think it’s that great, but... yeah. whatever.

it’s friday night babey which means that it’s dinner time with the sanders, and logan and patton are freaking out

logan has been cooking/prepping food for the past day, and he immediately started finishing up as soon as he got home from work

patton, on the other hand, was feverishly cleaning the entire house 

it isn’t even messy, but he’s worried that virgil and/or roman are going to be upset

(which they aren’t????? but whatever)

and patton even cleaned himself up! he tried (and failed) to tame his wild curls into some sort of neat anything, and he wore his nicest pair of black jeans and a black sweater with floral designs that he’d bought at the mall with virgil a while back

it was a little out of his comfort zone, but virgil insisted that he get it because it looks very good on him

and, god damn it, you can’t say no to virgil’s puppy eyes

the doorbell rang just before five, and logan ran out of the kitchen to get it

patton literally vaulted over the couch, skidding to the door just behind logan

virgil is like

literally the cutest person on the planet

he’s wearing a white lace dress that has a flowy skirt, and he’s got a white flower crown on, and he looks like an angel

during the time that patton’s being a gay disaster, virgil holds out a bouquet of blue flowers and says, “dad made me get them for you”

patton smiles gently and takes them, pulling virgil in for a quick kiss before leading him inside

roman has, like, eight giant tupperware containers full of cookies and brownies and stuff in his arms, and logan’s like

what???? the fuck?????

“you didn’t need to bring desserts, roman. i have ice cream...”

and roman gives this cocky smile and says “my best friend, emi, loves to bake for us, but he doesn’t really know how to limit himself, so we have tons of baked goods lying around that we can’t eat. not to mention that i can’t keep up this fabulous figure if i only eat sweets!” wink wonk

and logan can feel his face heating up after that wink, but he pretends that it’s just the heat from inside

roman really does have a good figure...

logan chooses to not respond to roman, instead saying, “let’s go inside so you can put those containers down”

they turn to go, and they catch a glimpse of patton and virgil from down the hall

the kids are sitting on the couch, laughing and talking and exchanging the occasional kiss

the adults watch for a second because aw, but quickly move on to the kitchen

“you can set the containers down on the counter over there. i made a a couple of different things for dinner just in case you two didn’t like something that i made, so there’s spaghetti, pizza, and hamburgers. everything is absolutely gluten-free; i know because i triple checked with a list online and bought new utensils to reduce contamination. you’re free to have as much or as little as you like--i won’t be offended either way.”

roman kind of freezes because holy shit that’s so thoughtful and kind

“that’s... logan, that’s too much. you didn’t have to do all that for virgil.”

“what are you talking about? it’s only common courtesy to assure that your guest is able to eat without getting sick, especially when they have a disease that can cause irreparable damage to their body.”

“yeah, but a lot of people don’t care enough to ask or remember, so virgil often has to find something else to eat last minute... i brought an extra dinner just in case, which is very unfair to your person, but virgil has suffered too much for me to not be careful.”

“that’s...” logan starts, trying to express what he feels. “that’s just shitty.”

roman smiles and laughs a bit, replying, “yeah, it is, but at least you aren’t, you know, shitty”

and they have this little moment where they smile at each other, and both of them are like wow this man is... good looking but they snap out of it because

dumb gays

everyone in this au is a dumb gay

including yours truly but that is noT important

logan’s like “hey we should get the kids for dinner” and roman obvi agrees

but when they go to get them, they see the kiddos being all adorable and gay and logan turns to roman with this very serious expression like

we must spy on them. this is the cutest shit i’ve ever seen.

so they shuffle over to the edge of the doorway, just out of sight, and logan peeks his head in every now and then for visuals, and he’s repeating what he hears so that roman can understand what’s happening

logan’s in the middle of telling roman something when

dun dun dunnnn

a voice suddenly appears from behind them like

(the voice is virgil)

“what... are you two doing...?”

fucking busted

logan is like

aHa i can lie to these children!

and he says, “we were talking about work--”

but patton just cuts him off with this deadpan look and “you two are horrible liars”

cut to: roman gasping in offense that this emo nightmare of a child just called him a liar when he didn’t even say anything

so he says, “i didn’t even say anything”

patton, being... well, being the asshole that he is, says, “my point still stands”

roman splutters for a while longer, trying to look at virgil and logan for help, but virgil just shrugs and walks with patton to the table, and logan is still very embarrassed about getting caught

it takes a few seconds, but both adults recuperate and move on to what’s important

which is, obviously, dinner

logan walks virgil through what’s available and offers to cook something else if he isn’t feeling particularly happy with anything

virgil damn near cries at how nice logan is

dinner gets served, and they all start eating the (delicious--who would guess that calculator watch knew how to cook something that tasted like it was served in a fancy restaurant) food

after a few minutes of idle chatter and slight pda between the kids, logan offhandedly comments, “you know, i am extremely happy for the both of you that you didn’t cycle through numerous girlfriends before finding out that you’re queer like many of us do.”

and everyone at the table freezes because

logan’s gay????

“hold up,” roman says with a shocked expression. “you’re gay?”

and virgil sighs and shakes his head because “dad, you’re an idiot. he literally has a pride phone case, and there are multiple pictures of him at pride around the house--including one right behind you.”

he also elbows patton when the punk mutters out a very soft “what the fuck”

“i applaud your observational skills--”

“i assume neither of you knew that he was jewish, either”

and now it’s logan’s turn to be surprised because... who the hell is this kid

“you have a dreidel on the mantle that i assumed you forgot to put away after Hanukkah last year.” everyone stared at him. “oh, i’m sorry that i’m not as much of a dumb gay as my father.”

cue roman getting offended again

“excuse you! the role of ‘dumb gay’ is exclusively reserved for thomas f. sanders!”

poor patton hasn’t stopped being confused this whole time, but roman luckily jumps right back into his explanation

“my twin brother, thomas, didn’t realize that he was gay until he had been with a woman for six years and had a child with her. they amicably parted ways because, like him, she was also gay. i am not nearly as stupid as my brother, and i take great offense to virgil calling me a ‘dumb gay!’” he said matter-of-factly

virgil opens his mouth to say something, but roman cuts him off with a swift “if you so much as think about saying what you’re going to say, i will throw you into the ocean without a moment’s hesitation.” roman then very calmly turns to patton and says sweetly, “so, only good child at this table, tell me a bit about yourself so that i know what my devil child is getting himself into.”

unbeknownst to roman, virgil mutters “dumb gay,” under his breath, causing logan to crack a smile across the table

patton shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “my birthday is february nineteenth, my favorite color is blue, and i’m homoromantic asexual.”

roman waited for patton to say more, but the teen averted his gaze back on his food and took another bite

logan decided to pick up the slack after the few seconds of awkward silence “what about you, virgil?”

unlike patton’s less than enthusiastic reply, virgil perked up at the chance to speak

“oh, well, my birthday is june second, and i really like purple! i’m pretty sure that i’m pan, but i have a preference for guys. oooh! and i really want to be an elementary school teacher.”

that made logan perk up. “really? i currently teach first graders across town.”

“no way!” virgil gasped. “that’s awesome! i love little kids so much. they’ve got so much energy.”

“and their intelligence is unrivaled!”

“yes!”

roman and patton watched as the two excitedly conversed about kids and teaching

patton admired virgil’s enthusiasm, and was happy that he was getting along with logan.

and virgil looked really cute with his happy smile and the little glimmer in his eyes

patton may or may not have zoned out in favor of staring at his beautiful boyfriend

roman couldn’t really tell what logan and virgil were talking about (they were speaking far too quickly for him to follow), but he admired how excited logan looked when he was speaking

oh no

roman was falling for logan

time to not follow his own advice and pretend that his feelings don’t exist

after another half hour or so of chatting, the adults and kids split ways for a while

patton and virgil went up to patton’s room, and logan and roman stayed in the living room

the boys settled together at the end of patton’s bed, holding hands and leaning on each other

“you look paw-sitively purrfect, virgil” patton giggled

“is... are you saying that because i have cat-eye eyeliner on?”

“...maybe”

virgil smiled and pulled patton in for a kiss

they kissed for a little, but patton eventually pulled away

he looked worried, and he fidgeted with his hands as he said, “do you think that your dad likes me?”

“well...” virgil started. “he didn’t like you for a long time. after the first day of school, he kind of held a grudge on you.” patton winced, but he didn’t get the opportunity to say anything. “i think he’s forgiven you now.”

“really?”

“i promise. he just wanted to protect me because he’s my dad, but i think he’s realized that you’re not actively trying to hurt me, and you’re just a bit dumb at times”

“hEY”

virgil smiled and nudged patton “you know i love you”

“hnnnnnn i love you too”

“heLL YEAH!”

meaNwhiLE downstairs

logan led roman into the the living room and roman was

stunned

because logan had at least a thousand books meticulously organized around the room

“how many books do you have in here...?” roman asked, running his hand over an entire collection of encyclopedias 

“about one thousand two hundred on the shelves, but i have some children’s books in those baskets at the bottom as well as the books that are starting to fall apart like my copy of hamlet”

“how did you even get so many books? i’ve been collecting novels my whole life, and i only have a few bookshelves full”

“my mom is a librarian, and whenever they would get newer copies of books or get rid of unwanted books, she’d give them to me. i’ve bought a fair few of these myself, but there are only so many that i can buy on a teacher’s salary”

and roman’s like

????? hot

and logan keeps rambling on about books, and roman’s just having a gay crisis but it’s fine 

but then logan looks at roman expectantly, and roman hadn’t exactly been paying enough attention to read logan’s lips, so he played the “can you repeat yourself? i didn’t catch it” card

“sorry. i asked how you came to adopt virgil”

and roman obviously is like hey how about we spill a lot of sad life things with this almost stranger because he’s cute

~this is where the murder is mentioned~

“his mom was my best friend in high school. although we went our separate ways for college, she stayed supportive of me after i came out. she was... the only one from my old life who would even think to talk to me. even thomas hesitated to talk to me for fear of crossing our parents and their ridiculously catholic ideas.” roman sighed. “eventually, though, she got mixed up in some bad stuff, and she got with this drug addict who got her pregnant with virgil. when virgil was about a year old, the guy thought that my friend was cheating on him, and he shot her. the shot, luckily, didn’t kill her right away, and she was able to push him into the corner of a table and kill him before he could get to virgil. she called the police, but she died before they could get there. as soon as i found out, I went and started the adoption process. i had only been a year out of college at that point.”

~end of the murder mention~

logan was stunned. “that is... horrible, roman. i am so sorry for your loss.”

“it’s alright,” roman said with a shrug. “it was over a decade ago, and it led to me getting the best thing in my life. the circumstances were shit, but virgil has made me a better person, and i wouldn’t know what i’d do without him keeping my head on gay.”

“you mean straight...?”

“nothing about me is straight, logan. don’t be absurd”

eventually, it’s time for roman and virgil to leave

virgil and patton walk out to the car and leave the adults at the door because they wanna kiss each other goodbye without being spied on

on their way to the car, virgil whispers “how much do you want to bet that they’ll be flirting with each other by the time we leave”

“ten dollars. i mean, didn’t you see how your dad looked at logan? it was gross!”

meanwhile, at the door...

roman leans back on the doorframe and smiles. “this was a nice night, logan. virgil definitely had a lot of fun”

“that’s great; i’m glad”

“here--give me your phone. i’ll put my number in, and we can get together some other time to get to know each other better”

logan obliged, and roman sent himself a text using logan’s phone and set his contact name as “prince of your dreams”

they chatted for a minute or so longer, just to give the boys enough time to say their goodbyes, before parting ways

logan didn’t spend the rest of the night texting roman

don’t be ridiculous

to be continued

asks are loved and encouraged, and make sure to check out the amazing art people have made on the masterlist! 💖💖💖

tag list: @residentanchor @eeveeawesome @xionical@absolutesandersidestrash @stormcrawler75 @musikasworld @ironwoman359@a-weirdo-with-a-computer @thegaypotatoroyalty707 @darkrainbow333@ravenclawunicorn1 @noahlovescoffee @whymustibedraggedintofandomhell@romansleftshoulderpad @still-waiting-for-cookies @emounicorn2006 @lana–22 @angels-ofthe-sea @demonickittykat @lonelysoul43 @the-virgil-mary @five-second-cookies @noisywolfbatbakery @band-be-boss-blog @heck-im-lost@lamp-calm-sanders @patton-e @knightofbloodcancer @cloudchaser7@really-sleep-deprived-nerd @era-eclipsed @khadij-al-kubra @anxiousmorality@are-you-really-sure-about-that @today-only-happens-once@notalwaysthevillian @backatthebein @sunshineandteddybears @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @emo-sanders-sides-loving-unicorn @dodos-in-damnation@some-lost-meme-boi @dead4sevenyears @spookyingarbageisland @the-poison-apple-of-art@radioactivehelena @the-melody-of-eliza @im-a-mess-aaaaaa @whycantihavemorethan32characters @broadwaytheanimatedseries@veryvirginvirgil @llamaavocado @unisaurioamorfo @caterpiller-tea@cornycornfriendo @simon-at-3am @calico-kiri

[whatevenismyaestheticidk]

Things I’ve heard high schoolers say pt 1

-Person:I don't want to go to college. I want to join a rock band.

-Person 1: A dangerous pogo stick

Person 2: Do you mean a jackhammer?

-Person 1: I only have five minutes, what can I do in five minutes!?

Person 2: Masturbate

Person 3: Dab

-*Person 1 snaps fingers in a Z formation and points* No.

-Person: It's the computer Jesus.

Person: I’m okay with being the human embodiment of a cookie recipe.

-Person: Her eyes were as blue as... the color blue.

-Person: angrily clicks pen

-Person: Fight me *said while dabbing*

-Person: Did you just assume the gender of that table?

-Person: How does that child have popcorn! It's Wednesday!

-Person: Yo no speako Shakespearean Englisho.

-Person: I AM looking at an AC! *shouted across campus during finals week*

-Person: You fancy English tomboy! *shouted during an argument*

-Person: The salt the salt it burns! *followed by horrendous screaming and someone collapsing on the ground*

-Person 1: It's spiky.

Person 2: Depression?

Person 1: No a porcupine.

-Person: I don't know what fake tan you put on, but you’re not brown. *Indian girl to another Indian girl when one thought a food was spicy*

-Person: Thicce. When she thicc but she French. *pronounced thick-ay*

-Person: Everything's breaking and falling apart. *cue a chorus of 'my life' and 'same'*

-Person: I searched up the word 'search'. Nailed it!

-Person: *to the tune of making my way downtown* Make a meringue right now.

-Person: Legiterally. *legit +literally*

-Person: See, the problem is, I don’t want to.

-Person: We're boycotting Amazon. Siri play despacito.

-Person: Dishwashers are just machines from the evil overlords. You don't do the dishes, the dishes do you.

-Person: It makes me want to dig my own eyeballs out of my sockets and eat them but I'm fine.

-Person 1: Is this strawberry jam?

Person 2: Yes

Person 1: Ehhh I'm allergic but it's fine.

-Person: You human bobby pin.

-Person: Technically, Fire trucks are just giant water guns.

-Person 1: But what happens if you take helium and sulfur hexafluoride at the same time?

Person 2: You die.

-Person: I want to breath fire like the dragon that I am.

-Person: (girls name)! Stop trying to graph life!

-Person 1: Great I’m a pterodactyl with 3D printers for ears.

Person 2: Oh my god it’s me!

-Person: I will consume your soul!!!

-Person 1: Did you just fall and accept it?

Person 2: Yes.

-Person: Dang. Life is just crunchy.

-Person: I relate to that shoe, because I am also alone in this world.

-Person: Being alive is to0 much of a commitment. TBH I have enough commitment issues as it is and I’m just not fully committed to this whole life thing.

-Person: Swiper no swiping! *shouted as another student tried to steal their water bottle

-Person: (persons name), you either have to solve the problem, or you have to stop whining and ignore it. That’s how life works.

-Person: I want an emotional support komodo dragon to emotionally support me by killing my enemies.

-Person 1: Move the table by (mans name).

Person 2: What? Physically?

Person 1: No, mentally… of course physically (person’s name)!

-Person: What do they speak in Brazil? Brazilian?

-Person: I’m  not going to have five kids fuck you buzzfeed.

-Person: How many calories are in a Pringles container? Cause I just ate all of them.

-Person: I could listen to him say penguin forever. If someone ever says penguin as good as he does I’ll just….

-Person: And then his reply just savaged me yeah!? I just want him to like me.

-Person: Me watching my life fall apart like ‘that’s a shame’.

-Person: Carry yourself upstairs! For gods sake (person’s name) it’s not that difficult!!

-Person: Do I look like the basic gluten free white bitch? Okay I thought so.

-Person: How could I give up on life when I never even lived it in the first place?

-Person: Have you ever gotten into a TED talk spiral? Like just a spiral of knowledge and inspiration?

-Person: You don’t know true fear until you almost drop your laptop without its case.

-Person: So they just yeet you into the water when you die.”

-Person: And in that moment she made four very straight girls turn gay for five seconds. That’s how fine she was.

-Person 1: Why is the sky screaming?

*thunder*

Person 2:It probably has cramps.

-Person: I’m here, I’m queer, and I shall be scoping you my dear.

-Person: You. 20-20. Vision. Person. Gah!

-Person: I guess I’ll just phase through the walls.

-Person: He has the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair.

-Person 1: Not even sarcastically though, why do you care more about my life and health more than I do?

-Random Girl walking by: same though

-Person: Wait are potatoes a fruit?

-Person 1: Come on (person’s name), chop chop!

Person 2: I’m chopping!

-Person: I thought I ran into (boys name) but it was actually just a bench.

-Person: Are streptsils supposed to burn?

-Person: Does static electricity work here?

-Bro 1: Close your eyes bro

Bro 2: Okay bro

Bro 1: What do you see bro?

Bro 2: Nothing bro

Bro 1: That’s my world without you bro

Bro 2: Bro

Girl: I swear to god if you two do that again… *insinuating that this wasn’t the first time they had done so*

-Person 1: And how do you exactly get to the sketchy parts of London?

Person 2: Google maps.

-Girl in a dark room to roommate: Well you know what? *Turns on light* well fuck you I hope your eyes burn.

-Person: Oh my crapety crap crap.

-Person: Oh yes, we love a spiky shistar

-Person: Tbh no one else can hate me as much as I hate me sooo yeahhh

-Person: So I guess I’m just gunna dab and pretend like everything’s okay then cry later.

-Person 1: Well you’re... fricking... stupid.

Person 2:Wow language.

Person 1: I’m 15 I can do whatever the frick I want!

-Person: *shouting*I don’t have energy for this today!

-Person: I didn’t know the lady was not wearing garments.

-Person: That went from getting water to doing drugs. That wasn’t a jump at all.

-Person: I am a bright and colorful piñata and god is a 13 year old birthday boy whose parents have just announced their divorce.

-Person: Oh my god I just got a message! *pause* Never mind it’s just my cellular company

-Person: I only know how to express love in either dramatic, multi-page, 19th-century-style love letters or single memes presented without commentary so jot that down

-Person 1: As a member of the stop the bull community I kindly request for you to cease this activity.

Person 2: Oh yah? Well as a member of the START the bull community I wanna ask you to umm BACK OFF.

-Person: I’m feeling very third wheel. You and (boys name),  (boys name) and (girls name), (girls name) and 8-ball.

-Person: My entire life is the ‘awkward YouTube phase’.

-Person: Sliding into (girlfriends name) dms like *proceeds to perform a giant sock on hardwood floor style slide*

-Person: (Teacher’s name)’s voice just puts you to sleep. If you need to take a nap, just listen to a recording.

-Person: And then there’s me, having a mental breakdown over a water bottle.

-Person: Like girl, I know you’re thirsty but just drink some soda.

-Person 1: I’m sad lemme have some.

Person 2: Who broke up with you this time?

Person 1: HEY!

-Person: Excuse you, I’m always ashy.

-Person 1: 3/8 people on this group chat aren’t straight. That’s 0.375. Quick maths. Who needs to pass the math final when you can calculate the amount of gay in the group chat?

Person 2: Politicians use statistics to argue their points anyway so you need it in life.

Person 3: That was intelligent, (Person 1) you’ve been outplayed.

-Person 1: YAY WERE ALL GOING TO DIE

Person 2: Me in the face of the apocalypse.

-Person: God I miss Lagos, even the bumpy ass roads. at least Lagos had LESBIANS.

-Person: Does anyone else want to pretend their okay with me? No?

-Person: 8-Ball Bitches!

-Person: I’VE GONE BACK SO FAR INTO THE CLOSET I’M IN FUCKING NARNIA NOW

-Person: Attack! *Squeals as she’s squirted wit a water-bottle* Ahhhh you fricking fudger!

[ayellowcurtain]

Finding Polaris - Chapter 5

Finding Polaris - Chapter 5 

Disclaimer: none of the pictures are mine (just the lame edit with their two pretty faces)

And it’s my first cover! I guess it’s not terrible.

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It was a long, mostly sleepless night for Lucas. He can’t be sure because he couldn’t see Eliott’s face but he was also restless all night long.

It’s his aunt’s wedding tonight and he didn’t tell Eliott about it yet. The original plan was to just go by himself, play a few songs and enjoy the party, then he met Eliott and the plan turned into going there, spend a few hours with his family and rush back to Eliott’s arms. But now he wants Eliott there with him, can’t afford spending hours away from him while he has a choice.

He can’t help a dumb smile on his lips thinking about Eliott wearing formal clothes, meeting his mom and his family. Eliott is so incredibly handsome, he’ll be the main subject of the wedding after the bride and the groom.

Lucas closes his eyes when he notices Eliott finally moving, rubbing his eyes. He can feel the bed moving and Eliott is looking at him, coming closer.

“I know you’re awake, stalker.” Lucas frowns, opening his eyes.

“How did you know ?” Eliott laughs and Lucas comes closer, putting one leg around his waist, pulling him even closer, resting his hand on Eliott's chest.

“You barely slept tonight. What are you thinking about?” He puts one hand on the small of Lucas’ back and the other one on the top of his head, combing his hair, looking at his fingers running through the strands on hair.

“We need to talk…” Lucas looks down, his fingertips touching the small tattoo on Eliott’s chest.

“We do?” He just nods with his head, thinking about how to say it and what Eliott’s reaction will be.

“I have a wedding to go later today. That’s why I came here. It’s my aunt’s wedding and I took the opportunity to come a few days earlier to relax a little...And I want you to come with me, if you want to.” Eliott smiles, pressing his hand against Lucas’ back, pulling him closer and Lucas hooks his leg perfectly around Eliott’s waist.

“You sure you want me there with you?”

“Yes.” Lucas looks up to meet his eyes again and he doesn’t seem bothered or insecure about it. Eliott's eyes are still soft and inviting.

“Ok. I’ll go with you. But I need to buy clothes.” He talks so easily about it like he really wants to go. Lucas looks for any doubt in his expression for another second, he doesn’t want Eliott to feel uncomfortable but he seems ok with it.

“Ok. We can go shopping.”

-

Eliott is taking forever inside the fitting room. He tried a bunch of clothes but he didn't seem happy in any of them, even though he looked fantastic in all.

Lucas could tell that he was getting a little anxious about deciding which one he should buy so he helped him and the final choice was black trousers, a black button shirt and a leather jacket that he really wanted.

“Are you ok in there?” Lucas decides to ask, getting up, stopping close to the door and Eliott instantly opens it, looking like a scared wild animal holding his purchase on one hand.

“Yeah, sorry.” He smiles but it doesn’t go all the way to his eyes like usually happens. Lucas stands on his tiptoes, putting his hands on Eliott’s chest, kissing him softly.

“We’re done now. It wasn’t that bad. And now we can go back to the hotel! We can eat a little, spend some time together, take a shower…” Eliott tries another smile, nodding his head and putting both hands on Lucas’ cheeks, kissing him again.

-

Deep inside Eliott notices his feelings creeping up on him, very slowly climbing to the surface, making everything black and numb.

He wanted to go to this wedding with Lucas but now he doesn’t want anymore. There’ll be a bunch of strangers in there, in a small place, drinking and partying the night away while he doesn’t feel like it. He doesn’t feel like doing anything right now.

He’ll meet Lucas’ family and they’ll look at Eliott and see how Lucas deserves better. Even if he's just a plus one to some aunt’s wedding he doesn’t really care about. Lucas is also nervous, biting his nails while putting his fancy clothes on, looking at Eliott through the mirror.

“You don’t want to go.” It’s not a question and Lucas can read him so well it’s the weirdest thing. But he needs to go, needs to man up for once and do what others expect from him.

“I want to, it’s just hard to get out of bed and put clothes on when there’s a hot guy as you right next to me, putting his fancy, sexy clothes on.” Lucas exhales relieved, turning to really look at Eliott, putting his black suit and it fits him perfectly. Eliott needs to get up and put some clothes on or they’ll be late. He needs to try harder.

And so he does, doing everything consciously or he would let his body take him back to the bed and stay there for days.

-

“Can we hold hands tonight or we’re just friends?” He asks and Lucas stops buttoning up Eliott’s shirt, looking up.

“What?” Eliott tries to give him a smile but it doesn’t work again.

“Can we hold hands tonight?” Lucas seems upset by the question, finishing his task and stepping back before answering.

“Yes, of course, we can, if you want to.” He can only force himself to nod, pulling Lucas closer again, kissing him just to make the other one happy and soft again and it works, Lucas melts into him like he always does and he seems to forget about the question.

-

Eliott is trying to play his uplifting and social self while walking around the place, constantly holding Lucas’ hand or at least his index and middle finger when they walk to the bar or to get more food.

The ceremony was beautiful, Lucas told him that he knew how to play the song on the piano and Eliott didn’t even know he was able to play the piano.

Apparently, Lucas thinks he was invited just to play at the party. He doesn’t really see his family, everyone sort of disappeared when Lucas’ parents got divorced and he’s used to it by now, couldn’t care less about his family but his aunt acted like she cared enough and even paid for his trip to the wedding so he accepted.

It seemed like a fair trade: to play a few songs in exchange for a train ticket and some money for the hotel and free wedding food that Lucas is indulging in a lot. Eliott isn’t hungry, just drinking a few beers and Lucas doesn’t complain about his lack of appetite, he's too worried about the time.

The dinner was already served, everyone was starting to get drunk and his aunt was looking around, probably searching for him.

“Shit. Guess I have to go.” Lucas buttons up his shirt again, putting his suit as well, putting a hand on top of Eliott’s, caressing the back of his hand. “You’re gonna be ok here by yourself? It’s just a few songs and then I’ll be back and we can go back to the hotel.” Eliott just nods, trying to smile for the third time to Lucas and he gets a quick kiss on the lips as an answer.

“Good luck.” He manages to say before Lucas leaves him by himself at their table. He manages to finish his and Lucas’ beer while he watches the other one walking to the small stage, fixing his clothes and hair.

-

For the first time, Lucas feels in control. These last couple of magical days with Eliott were all about doing what the other one suggested. He had just as much fun but he wanted to show Eliott how happy he was to spend this time with him and to take him as his plus one to the wedding.

He’ll have to go back to Paris in a few days and they didn’t talk about it and he didn’t think about it until now, on his way to the piano. Lucas doesn’t know what will happen, he doesn’t even know if Eliott lives in Paris as well.

It’s been such a long time since he played the piano for the last time but he thought about which song he wanted to play. He still knows a few songs but he needs to play his favorite one, it’s powerful and until today that was it, but now it has a different meaning to him. Even if they don’t have time to say it or to explain their feelings, he’ll show his to Eliott.

Lucas sits on the bench, pulling it closer to the piano, breathing slowly, trying not to fuck everything up. He looks back one more time where he left Eliott. He nods quietly trying to give Lucas some type of reassurance. Eliott is still alone at their table so that’s good. Nobody went to sit with him and talk about Lucas being gay or something stupid like that.

Eliott looks like a God wearing all black, everything fits him perfectly. His pupils were still blown when Lucas left him a minute ago, maybe it was a bad idea to smoke on their way to the wedding but they were both nervous and a bit shaky and Lucas couldn’t think of a better opportunity to finally smoke Arthur’s weed. Eliott also seemed relieved to have something to smoke and make them relax a little bit.

Every girl and some guys around their age attending the wedding seem to be looking at Eliott but he never leaves Lucas’ eyes, biting his nails.

He’s with me tonight.

Lucas forces himself to look at the piano, forget about everyone else but Eliott. He puts his hair back, touching the keys quietly for a second, making sure that it’s there and it’s happening, praying that everything will go perfectly.

The room slowly goes quiet, you can only hear whispers and a few chairs being dragged against the floor and someone coughing. And then he starts playing.

Soon he’s letting himself be pulled by the music and the notes, thinking about what it all means to him right now. His heart is racing, his body is overheating but it feels good, like certainty about his feeling and about his company tonight. Eliott.

-

Eliott is having a very hard time. He’s exhausted, maybe the lack of sleep from the past days are catching up to him. He doesn’t dare thinking about his medication left behind in Paris. It’s probably still on his nightstand, staring at his empty bed for days, blaming him again for forgetting about getting the small flask before leaving the house.

It’s been years and he still forgets about it. Maybe deep down he hopes he’ll be able to live his life without having some kind of drug controlling him when he doesn’t feel like being under control.

He’s never been as happy as he’s been these days hiding from everyone else. He’s with Lucas and that’s all that matters. But he’s aware of the thousands of messages unread of his phone, the missed calls and the voice messages that Lucille left him. She can’t leave him alone. Ever.

The moment he saw Lucas on that train station he knew his heart was taken. By the most beautiful human being and he couldn’t fuck this up, not today. At his aunt’s wedding.

Eliott could easily marry Lucas right now. If it was the hardest decision of his past life with Lucille it would be the easiest to just marry his boyfriend tonight and spend their lives together, running away all around the world, constantly traveling, tasting the best food, sleeping on the most comfortable beds, making love every night.

He thanks the waiter when he finally brings more drinks, putting it on the table, taking the empty dirty plates and cups with him. Lucas is still playing so Eliott empties the new drinks, putting the empty cups back on the table. He can feel his hands cold but sweaty and his body buzzing with energy. He can’t wait to go back to the hotel.

Lucas is suddenly by his side, the live music stopped playing, he looks around and the other guests are still applauding Lucas but everyone is moving around close to the dance floor to join the newlyweds.

“Can we go home ? I don’t feel good.” He manages to explain, already getting up, feels like the world is spinning around him. Lucas frowns, nodding and coming closer, hugging him by his waist, guiding him out of the party.

-

“ Cause it's a beautiful night, we're looking for something dumb to do

Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you

Is it the look in your eyes or is it this dancing juice

Who cares baby, I think I wanna marry you”

He whispers against Lucas’ ear making the other one laugh, holding his waist tighter. They’re out of the party, walking on empty streets to their hotel.

“How much did you drank while I was playing ?” Lucas teases him and he just rolls his eyes. He’s not drunk.

“Not enough. I’m not drunk, I just think this is a party song and it fits the moment.” He shrugs, holding Lucas tighter. He’s trying very hard not to ruin his night, his vacation. If they were married, he would have to tell Lucas everything.

He knows about him being bipolar but Eliott is not sure if Lucas understands what it means. He’s definitely not ready and he doesn’t have to be, Eliott wants Lucas to be happy, not a worrier that would become his nurse and he would lose interest in Eliott.

“ If we wake up and you want to break up

That's cool

No I won't blame you

It was fun, Lucas .”

“That’s not how the song goes.” Lucas comes closer again, hiding his face against Eliott’s neck, kissing it and putting both arms around his waist to steady the other one.

“I don’t know. I want this song to play at our wedding.” Lucas makes them stop, looking up. Eliott can see him again, his cheeks starting to blush and he’s trying to hold back a smile.

“So we’re getting married ?” Eliott frowns, putting both hands on his face, brushing his lips against Lucas’.

“Of course we are. A big fucking wedding. I wanna marry you, Lucas.” Lucas looks up to meet his gaze, he opens his mouth a few times but never says a word. “I would marry you right now if you wanted as well.”

“I-We can get married sometime in the future.” Eliott chews his bottom lip, stepping back and starting to walk again, finally arriving at their hotel.

Lucas is still looking at him, trying to ask for forgiveness without saying and without needing to apologize. Eliott is stupid for even talking about marriage when he left his ex when just the idea of getting engaged to her became a reality.

“Eliott…”

“Don’t worry, Lucas, it was just a stupid idea.” He locks the bedroom door after Lucas, taking his new clothes off and leaving in a pile right next to the door, he’s exhausted.

“I-I like you. Really like you.” Eliott passes by him on the way to the bed, taking his underwear off when he’s under the covers, Lucas is still where he was a minute ago, looking like he’s about to cry, ashamed.  

“You don’t have to. I’m a whole lot of problems and it’s so fucked up, no wonder why you wouldn’t marry me, I get it, I know I’m asking too much. I need to sleep, we’ll talk later.” He doesn’t let Lucas answer him, making it clear that the conversation is over when he covers himself completely with the covers, trying to stay still so Lucas won’t bother him.

The room is silent for a long time, Eliott is trying to keep his breathe slow so he won’t start sobbing and call Lucas' attention to come see what’s going on. The other one finally moves, walking around the room but Eliott doesn’t bother looking what he’s doing, he closes his eyes, trying to fall asleep for a little. Soon it will all be over and Lucas won’t even remember they existed.

And Eliott will be the one thinking about it while he walks up the aisle to marry the girl he doesn’t want. He finally closes his eyes, hoping to be able to fall asleep tonight.