#her fifth birthday should be rolling around soon so i wanted to doodle her a bunch again

[mossyflowers]

That time of year again, here's a bunch of assorted doodles of Mossy <3

[voiceless-terror]

And Many Happy Returns

a sequel (or companion piece) to Inseparable, my childhood friends AU. chapter 1 of 2.

“Next week?” Jon shrieks, slamming a hand down on his desk and startling the nearby students. “That’s not nearly enough time to prepare!”

Martin does that blinky-eye thing that means Jon’s being too loud, but he can’t help it! Martin’s turning eight in six days (less than a week!) and didn’t think to tell him. They’re best friends, he should know these things. He curses himself for not asking about this at the beginning of their relationship, when he was collecting Martin facts. Favorite color and book seemed more important at the time. 

And while Jon doesn’t think birthdays are that important, it’s still a fact he ought to have known. Well, his Nan doesn’t consider birthdays important. These past two birthdays he’s gotten one new (!) book and a dessert after dinner, but that’s about it. Nan doesn’t have money to spend on frivolous things, and Jon’s never needed much, but he wouldn’t mind a bit of fanfare. His mum always made sure he felt very loved- he got plenty of hugs, a fun cake, an outing where they would do his favorite things. But maybe that’s something only mums do. Nan, with her rare, stiff hugs and general stand-offishness was never one to put up much of a fuss.

“It’s not that big a deal,” Martin mutters, his pencil twitching in his hand as he refuses to meet Jon’s eyes. He doesn’t like it when Jon starts fretting about him. “We never do anything for it, anyway.”

Martin’s mum isn’t anything like Jon’s, that’s for sure. It’s not every day you turn eight. It’s a nice number, very even and divisible. Much better than boring old seven. When Jon turns eight, he’s going to get fifteen extra minutes added to his curfew, and he’ll be able to walk to the corner store all by himself. He’s already walked there several times, but it’ll be nice to have permission. That’s the real treat.

“So you’re not going to bring in cupcakes for the class?” he asks, remembering the last birthday they celebrated- it was Lydia’s, a quiet, unassuming girl that Jon doesn’t mind but also doesn’t think much about. As soon as Jon asks it, Martin gets that sad look in his eyes again, the kind that’s always followed by an “I’m sorry” or something equally nonsensical. Jon hates that he’s the cause of it, him and his stupid mouth. Think before you speak, that’s what Nan always says. She says that for most anything he talks about, though, so he takes her advice with a grain of salt.

He reaches out to pat Martin’s arm consolingly, giving him his best sympathetic head tilt. “It’s alright. I’ve never brought any in either. Just thought I’d check in case you needed help bringing them to school.” Jon’s not very good at carrying things, but for Martin he would make an attempt.

“That’s nice of you,” Martin replies, though it’s not really nice, it’s just a normal thing a friend would do. Jon’s read books about it, he ought to know. “But yeah. I don’t think Mum’s planning anything, much less making cupcakes. She’s really busy.” Martin’s always saying how busy his Mum is, but Jon’s pretty sure she doesn’t do half the things around the house that she’s supposed to. Martin already knows how to cook and make tea and do the laundry without hurting himself. It’s very admirable. The last time Jon attempted to do laundry, he flooded the cellar.

“Do you like cupcakes, though?” Jon asks, scooching closer to Martin’s desk. “Lydia’s mum brought some for her birthday, but they were all carrot cake. Blegh.” He makes an exaggerated face to get Martin to laugh. It works.

“Carrot cake’s not so bad,” Martin says, poking lightly at Jon’s hand with the eraser of his pencil. Jon flinches back dramatically, putting on his most wounded look. “You just don’t like it cause it has the word carrot in it.”

“I don’t like it cause it has actual carrots in it,” Jon sniffs, turning away from Martin to show his displeasure. He decides not to talk to him for the rest of the day, or at least until he has something else to say to him. He’s got a lot on his mind now, and he needs to be left alone with his thoughts. Besides, Martin will poke him again once he gets bored enough. 

Jon flips open the school planner that he’s never used for actual school work and starts to write. He’s got a birthday to plan, and he’s going to give Martin a Mrs. Sims birthday special.

______

It’s a Thursday, which means Martin can’t play on account of his many, many chores. Jon hates Thursdays.

But this time it works in his favor, as he’ll actually have time to plan without Martin thinking something’s up. Jon very rarely cancels on Martin; he’s his most important (and only) friend. But he does on occasion get a little mixed up. One time, he thought it was a Wednesday instead of Thursday, and wound up at Martin’s flat when he didn’t show up at the park. Martin was very nice about it, though, and gave him a cup of tea to ‘calm down’ to drink in the hallway, before he went home. Martin thinks a cup of tea is calming. It doesn’t really do much for Jon, but it is tasty, and Martin gives him extra sugar just the way he likes.

But today is most definitely a Thursday so he scurries on home, slamming the door open and screaming a greeting to Nan that goes unanswered.  She must be off at the shops, otherwise she’d be giving Jon an earful for being too loud. He kicks off his shoes and gazes at the picture of him and his mum on the wall. If his mum were here, she would know exactly what to do to make Martin’s birthday extra-special. But she’s not, and Martin’s mum seems like kind of a jerk, so it’s Jon’s responsibility. “I won’t let you down,” he solemnly tells her smiling face, and turns to take the steps two at a time.

After grabbing his planner and throwing his backpack into the corner,  he pulls out the chair to his messy homework desk, which is usually only used for doodling or writing stories or reading when he wants the activity to feel more official. He flips open his planner to next Wednesday, Martin’s birthday (!!!) and taps his pen impatiently against the page. 

What do birthdays need? Food. Presents. Happiness. The first two might be a bit difficult to pull off, considering his lack of money and cooking skills. Martin deserves a lot more than stale discount biscuits from the grocery. He can get those any day.

But a whole cake is going to be hard. If Nan won’t make one for Jon on his birthday, she most certainly won’t do it for ‘his little friend,’ even if she thinks he’s a good influence. Martin is always very quiet and polite when he sees her, and Nan always gives him a smile in return for his good manners. She doesn’t smile at Jon like that. He tamps down his jealousy and gets back to birthday thoughts.

He thinks he had a purple- or was it pink? - cake on his fifth. It saddens him that he can’t remember. He thinks he’d forget his own mother’s face if he didn’t look at it every morning and night. Memory’s fickle like that, as his Nan likes to say.

Maybe, if he’s very nice and good tonight, Nan will take him with her on the weekly shop and he can convince her to get Martin a cupcake, a good one. One that doesn’t have any carrots in it, even if Martin says they’re alright. He must like them so much because they’re orange, like his hair. Unsurprising. 

He stops wiggling in his chair and straightens his back, as if Nan can see him in his room right now. It’s good to practice, he thinks. If he can sit still all through dinner and not make a mess, she’ll come round. 

Next, an essential part of any birthday: a good present.

His mum never really showered him with gifts, but she always gave him something good, something from the heart. The last present he received - Augustus, an orange cat plushie- still sits on his bed. It’s kind of babyish to sleep with a stuffed animal at his age (or so Marcus declared during recess one day) but Jon doesn’t really care. It helps him sleep.

Unfortunately, Jon can’t buy Martin a stuffed cat. He doesn’t have much money except for what he’s found on the ground and in sofa cushions. And he’s supposed to give that to Nan if he finds it (which he does, mostly).

He could be creative. Make him something. Jon’s not very good at crafts, though. And he doesn’t have a lot of supplies. But he has almost a week to figure something out, minus the times he’s playing with Martin. Well, even then he can stare at him and hope it jogs a good idea.

Lastly, he’s got to make it the happiest, most special day he can. Martin should feel special all the time, but Jon knows how hard that is, especially when you go home and you’re lonely and it seems like you’re the least special person there is. But if Jon is very nice to him and makes the day as fun as possible, maybe he’ll be able to keep that happiness all night, even when Jon leaves. 

That’ll be the hardest part, Jon thinks. He’s not the type of person to make someone happy. Sigh in aggravation, maybe. Roll their eyes. But Martin does neither of those things, so Jon might have a chance. He’ll try and ‘tone it down,’ though. His Jon-ness can be too much at times, and he doesn’t want that to get in the way of what should be Martin’s day.

Everything’s going to be perfect. 

________

And then it’s Saturday, and Jon still doesn’t have a present for Martin. 

He somehow managed to get Nan to agree to the cupcake bit- he’d asked very politely, ate all of his dinner and didn’t spill a thing. Though he thinks it has more to do with her liking Martin. She always acts surprised when she sees him over, like she’s shocked Jon kept a friend for longer than a week. He’s not that bad. But Tuesday she promised to take him to the grocery with her, so it’s fine. One part of his plan is done.

But the present. 

Actually buying something is clearly out of the question- he already exhausted his Nan’s good will in that department. And Jon, for all his usual creativity, is plum out of ideas. He could give him one of his books, but he does that already without prompting. He doesn’t have any good toys, and Martin certainly isn’t getting his best pen, the one that glides real smoothly on the page.

“Are you alright?”

He’s been staring at Martin too long. “Of course,” Jon snaps. “I just like your shirt today, that’s all.”

Martin looks down at his worn t-shirt. It’s not Jon’s favorite, but it’s Martin’s, so he likes it. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

They’re out in the woods behind Mr. Fletchley’s house to investigate what Jon thought was an ancient ruin but just turned out to be a couple of crumbling cinder blocks. It was an incredibly disappointing find, but Martin wasn’t discouraged.

“We don’t know where they came from, or why someone dumped them here,” he reasoned, a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “What if they were stolen? What if they’re part of a...a crime, or something?”

Jon doesn’t know what crime would need a cinder block, but he intends to find out. They’ve been walking down the relatively short path (it’s not so much woods as it is a cluster of trees) and haven’t seen anything suspicious, besides a few empty wrappers and a particularly sharp stick that Jon’s been whacking against the ground. He thinks it could’ve been used as a weapon.

“What are you going to do when you’re eight?” he asks, nudging Martin in the side. He hasn’t mentioned his birthday since the first time, so he’ll be in for a real treat come Wednesday. Jon just hopes he can think of something good in time.

“Mm, I don’t know.” Martin slows down to a mosey, and Jon tries to match his strides no matter how much he wants to jump ahead. Martin’s a real ‘slow down and sniff the flowers’ type of guy. Jon’s more of a ‘run ahead and accidentally trample them’ type. “Probably the same as I’m doing now. It’s not like it’s an important age. I can’t drive or anything like that.”

“It’s a very important age!” Jon insists, though he doesn’t have much to back that up. He’s mostly just excited because it’s Martin’s very first birthday with him. “You should look forward to something.”

“I dunno, I don’t want anything to change,” Martin says, his face going a little red as he stares at the ground. “I’d just like to spend more time with you. Have fun. That kind of stuff.”

Jon blinks. “We do that now, though.”

“Yeah. It’s the best.” Martin gives him a toothy grin, the kind that Jon puts away and thinks about later when he’s at dinner with Nan or getting ready in the morning. People don’t smile at him like that, only Martin. He does it all the time when Jon tells him a good joke, or shares his food, or passes him a particularly funny doodle.

And now Jon’s got the perfect idea for a present.

part 2

[stardewxcrossing]

Family Values - Mafia AU of the Losers Club

Characters: | Eddie | Richie | Stanley | Bill | Beverly | Ben | Mike | Pairings: | Reddie-centric | Stenbrough | Benverly | Rated: M A T U R E Chapter warnings: swearing

Summary: When Frank Kaspbrak dies, he leaves behind his blood stained empire to his wife and son. Eddie wants nothing to do with the family business, while Sonia is ruthless, manipulative, and will stop at nothing to keep him in her grasp. His life takes a different turn when the one person he falls in love with turns out to be a cop, who happens to be part of a team trying to take down his family. 

Chapter: | 1 | 2 - coming soon |

Read on AO3 // Word count: 3.8k

It really didn’t surprise anyone when squad cars swarmed the beach parking lot. Typical disturbances such as fights broke out all the time, or some dumb teenager thinking they can get away with petty theft, but not today. The body of a young girl had washed up the short earlier that morning, battered and bruised. This was the fourth body they had found this month, and they were no closer to catching the people involved as they were to figuring out why the body count was rising. They had some inkling of what was going on, but with no hard evidence, it wasn’t going to be easy to bring down the biggest family in Los Angeles.

Richie Tozier had transferred to LAPD for two full months now, and he was honestly bored. Not that there wasn’t anything going on; it’s more that no one will give him anything to do. No, actually, they gave me plenty to do, he thought bitterly as he stared at the mountain of paperwork the Chief had dropped on his desk yesterday morning. He get that being new and one of the youngest detectives on the force, he still had a long way to go to prove himself. But he figured having graduated the academy at the top of his class and pass the detective exam at the age of 24 should at least amount to something. Nope, still a rookie, rang out in his head as he doodled an obscene drawing on one of the reports he was supposed to be filling out.

“Morning, Rich.” Richie leaned back in his chair and looked up to see Mike Hanlon approaching him. Hanlon was a few years younger than he was and just joined the force for about six or so months before Richie moved to LA. He was probably the only person Richie enjoyed talking to at the station, and the only friend he had so far. Unfortunately, he was also the Chief’s grandson. “Chief wants you to go get coffee,” he looked almost apologetic. Of fucking course. Shit was happening everywhere in the city, and he was stuck making a coffee run for the fifth morning in a row. LA fucking sucked.

“Sir! Yes, sir!” Richie jumped to his feet in perfect posture and saluted before patting Mike on the back and went out the door. The walk to the shop wasn’t a long one, and he would’ve rather enjoyed it, if it wasn’t for the fact that he knew he was only being sent out so that he’d miss the morning briefings. Again, LA fucking sucked.

He opened the door to the shop and was greeted by a beaming barista, “Morning, Rich-Rich.”

“Jenny, baby!” he winked at her.

“They got you on another run?”

“Always, but my day just got better seeing your pretty face.”

She let out a soft giggle, cheeks flushed, “Shut up, Richie,” and went to get started on his order.

As he stood waiting, he noticed a boy standing in front of him. He was wearing a light pink polo with a grey sweater and khaki pants. His hair was a dark brown color and curled slightly at the ends. Richie couldn’t help but trail his gaze downwards, and damn, that was  definitely the nicest ass he’s seen since he’s moved here. He smirked and let out a whistle louder than he intended. The boy turned around abruptly as Richie whipped his head up, but it was too late. He had been caught.

“Can I help you with something?” The boy said with annoyance.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself,” he said, still smiling. The boy rolled his eyes and began to turn around when Richie spoke up, “I’m Richie.”

After a moment’s hesitation, the boy replied, “Eddie,” his expression unchanged. Richie took a good look at his face, and had to admit he was really cute. They were standing close enough that he could see the light trickle of freckles on the other boy’s face. His eyes were chocolate brown that seemed to have a soft twinkle in them. Ok, maybe LA wasn’t so bad after all.

Before Richie could begin a conversation, the door to the shop jingled open, catching both of their attention. A boy with short, curly brown hair had walked in, caught Eddie’s eye, and made his way towards them. Hm, boyfriend…? Richie wondered. The other boy glanced at Richie for a split second before turning his attention back to Eddie and said, “Let’s go?”

Jerk. Richie thought.

Without another word or look in Richie’s direction, the other two boys walked out the shop.

“Here ya go,” he turned around to see Jenny standing with his drinks. “I gave you an extra muffin to get you through the rest of the day,” she gave him a smile before turning back to the register. Richie glanced down at the bag and noticed a message on the front.

Call me sometime ;) 310-555-9475

“Who was that?” Stan asked as they exited the coffee shop.

“Some creep,” was all Eddie said. “Where were you?”

The silence that followed was apparently all he needed for an answer because Stan could see Eddie tense up out of the corner of his eye.

“It wasn’t anything important. How was class?” he asked as they approached his car.

“Fine,” the boy said before biting his lower lip.

Stan resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. He could probably guess what Eddie was thinking, but he had already been screamed at by one Kaspbrak that morning and wasn’t really looking to have a lecture from another one. He knew the decisions he made were far from being right, and Eddie only wanted what’s best for him. But Eddie couldn’t possibly understand why he chooses to be like this. Everything he had was because of Eddie’s family. Helping out Sonia was the only way he could think of to repay his debt.

“Stan?” Eddie finally broke the silence. “Can I ask why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you continue working with her?”

Stan sighed. “I really don’t want to talk about this right now, Eddie.” Eddie must have sensed his tone because he dropped the subject completely. He knew his friend meant well, but he hated talking about his feelings. He tried not to think about everything that’s led him to this point in his life, but sometimes his mind wandered.

It had been his eighth birthday, Stan remembered it vividly. He had woken up that morning with excitement running through every part of his body. His father had promised they were going to spend the day at Disneyland, and it was going to be Stan’s first time there. He practically had their whole day already planned out with every person he was going to get an autograph from, every show he was going to watch, and every ride he was going to go on.

He remembered running downstairs, calling for his parents, and not noticing the eerie silence that lingered in the air. When there was no response, he simply thought his parents were out buying breakfast, or something, and would eventually come back. He remembered thinking about how proud his parents were going to be if they came home to see him all dressed and ready to go, and it made him even more excited. Even after he had finished brushing his teeth, dressing himself, and combing his hair, his parents still were not home. So he sat on the couch, waiting, as he watched the television, looking out the window at every sound he heard.

He had waited for an hour… then two… then three. The small boy had been so hopeful when he heard a car pull up to the driveway because for one second, he thought his parents had finally come home. But no, it wasn’t his parents after all. It was Frank Kaspbrak who greeted him when he swung the door open. It was Frank Kaspbrak, carrying a big box wrapped in nice paper, that made Stan burst into tears. And it was Frank Kaspbrak who held him as he cried and took him back to his own house to wait for his parents, but they never came.

He had no other relatives, so Stan was eventually put into the foster care system. He was only there for about a month before Frank got the paperwork approved to adopt him. He never really knew what happened to his parents, and when he was younger, he used to dream that they would one day walk back into his life with a perfectly good explanation as to why they walked out in the first place. Those dreams ceased when he turned fourteen. He and Eddie had come home from school thinking they had the house to themselves, when they heard the fight coming from Frank’s study upstairs.

“Goddamn it, Sonia!” Frank’s voice boomed. “He was my best friend!” Stan and Eddie had quietly crept upstairs, and were standing in front of the room with their ears pressed onto the door. Frank’s voice was softer when he spoke again, “Stan… he deserves to know.”

“They left him, Frank. There’s no point in bringing anything up again. They deserted their boy, and that’s all there is to it,” Sonia’s voice was calm, almost cold.

Stan remembered Eddie stepping back and turning to look at him, but he had avoided looking into the other boy’s eyes. So that was the truth. They really had just left him no good explanation. Maybe they hated him. He must’ve done something that caused his parents to walk out. Eddie never spoke about that day to Stan, and he was silently thankful for that. Because he’s never spoken or thought about them after that day either.

“So, where are we going for lunch?” Eddie asked.

Richie trotted back into the station with both his hands holding a tray full of cups. “Honey, I’m h–where the fuck is everyone?” He stopped in front of where Mike was sitting and set the coffee cups onto the desk. The place was practically empty with only Mike and a few other rookie officers scattered around. “How long was I fucking gone?”

“They got a call. Some body washed up by the beach,” Mike answered.

Richie’s head perked up. “What beach?” Mike looked at him skeptically.

“Mikey, my love,” he tried his best attempt at heart eyes, but knew he failed miserably. “Come on. I won’t say I heard it from you,” Richie flashed what he deemed as his most irresistible grin.

“I don’t know, Rich,” Mike rubbed the back of his neck. “Last time–”

“Okay, that was absolutely not all my fault!” How is it his fault that he didn’t have the right description of the suspect and ended up chasing the wrong person for almost seven blocks? Plus, barely any damage was done, and the kid wasn’t even that traumatized. He’d just wet his pants a little that’s all… And Richie may or may not have let the actual perp get away… Okay, maybe that was bad, but this was going to be different.

Mike raised an eyebrow. “Whatever. Chief gave specific instructions not to tell you, Richie. Sorry.” Richie scowled, before Mike began again. “I mean, I gotta follow orders. Hope you understand. Just don’t go down to that sandwich shop by the pier for lunch.” Mike gave him a wink, and a smile slowly crept on Richie’s face.

“Michael, I could kiss you!”

“Please don’t,” Mike said scooting his chair away, but Richie’s hands were already on his shoulders as he pulled him in and planted a wet one right on Mike’s cheek. “Richie!” He went to push the man off him, but he was already running towards the door.

“Drinks tonight, Mikey. On me!” And he was out the door.

Stan and Eddie had chosen to eat at the diner right across from Eddie’s campus. It wasn’t a bad place, except for the fact that every time they walked in, the entire place seemed to shift their attention to the two boys. Stan must have grown accustomed to it by now because it didn’t seem to bother him anymore. Eddie, on the other hand, still felt very uncomfortable when it happened. He hated the fact that his reputation in this town was solely based on his parent’s reputation. He wished he could be far away, in a place where people didn’t know who he was.

“Do you have a preference on where to sit?” The waiter, Bill, had approached them, and Eddie snapped out of his thoughts. He was actually their next door neighbor, and surprisingly, always treated them very nicely when they came to the diner, which Eddie had noticed the visits were becoming more frequent lately.

“Anywhere is fine,” Eddie smiled, as Bill led them to a booth in the back corner and set their menus down.

“Can I get you started on something to drink?”

“Waters, please,” Stan replied, eyes glued to a menu he’s already memorized.

“S-sure.” Eddie observed the way Bill’s cheeks reddened slightly as he walked away, and smiled to himself.

“What?” Stan asked.

“Nothing,” Stan raised his eyebrow at Eddie, but didn’t press.

Bill Denbrough had groaned silently when he saw the two boys approach from the parking lot. He knew they were coming because they were almost always here during his shift. He’d notice that he would always dread it if they came, yet when they didn’t, he’d somehow feel disappointed. Which made absolutely no sense, because he’s never even spoken to Eddie Kaspbrak or Stanley Uris, even though they were next door neighbors and went to the same school since they were kids. They had only began their interactions when he started working at the diner. He had picked up the job as a way to make some extra cash so he didn’t always have to ask his parents for money. Not that they would mind, but he liked the idea of being able to support himself. But Bill was beginning to rethink whether he made the right decision by working here. He really didn’t like the way his stomach twisted every time he saw those curls.

Bill tried his best to push the thoughts out of his head as he approached the table again, with their drinks in hand. “You guys ready to order?” he prayed his face wasn’t as red as he felt it to be.

“I’ll take a cheeseburger with fries, and a vanilla shake,” Eddie replied.

“Just a Caesar chicken salad, thanks,” Stan handed the menus back to him causing their hands to brush together for a brief moment. Bill was sure the entire diner could hear his heartbeat, but the other boy made no indication. He simply turned his attention back to Eddie as Bill hurried away.

He really needed to get a grip… Thankfully he only had to endure this embarrassment for another forty minutes or so before his shift ended. After he gave them their food, he tried his best to spend the rest of the shift avoiding their table as much as possible. Only stopping by once to ask them how their food was and to introduce them to the new waitress taking over their table once he left. He couldn’t be happier to leave when he saw the old Ford pull up into the parking lot.

“Bye, everyone!” Bill shouted to the diner and rushed to the car where a girl with firey red hair was dancing in the driver seat.

“Jeez, Billy,” Bev smirked as he settled into the car. “Why are you looking like a tomato?”

“Shut up and drive, Bevvie.”

When Richie finally reached the pier, most of the beach area had been blocked off by officers standing guard. Crowds of people still hung around, trying to peer over the officers to get a look at what was going on. He flashed his badge as he walked towards the crowd and ducked underneath the tape to walk towards the group of men hovering over the body.

Leroy Hanlon had spotted him and frowned, “I don’t remember asking you to be here, Tozier.” Richie opened his mouth to reply when he heard the sound of someone hurling and turned to his left. An officer was hunched over near one of the rocks. “Pathetic. Get ‘im out!” The Chief yelled, before turning his attention back to the body.

Richie moved to the other side to get a better look. “Hey, I know her.” Now he had the Chief’s attention. “Yeah, she worked at that club on 3rd Street… what’s it called?” Richie looked up to see the Chief exchanged a knowing look with the other officers.

“Ritz, go find out what you can,” he walking away from Richie, Ritz alongside him.

“Chief, I can-.”

“Go back to the station, Tozier. I want those reports done by today.”

Un-fucking-believable. He was already deep in conversation with the other detective. Richie had the urge to give both of them the finger, but thought against it. It wasn’t going to help anyway. And then the best idea he’s ever had struck him, and he smiled. Fine, he thought. I promised Mikey a drink anyway, and it just so happens we’re going to a certain club on 3rd Street. If he was going to be kept out of the loop, his only strategy was to have his own investigation. In the meantime, he had a pile of reports to continue doodling on.

Eddie hated anything to do with the line of work his family was in, and he hated it even more that Stan continued to do Sonia’s bidding. His mother was a bitch, and Eddie wasn’t afraid to admit it though he’d never have the courage say it to her face. He knew too well what happened to people who crossed her path wrongfully, and some part of him knew she was capable of doing the same to him.

He was starting to regret his decision to follow Stan as he sat in the corner of a booth waiting for him. Eddie was on his third cocktail, hoping the alcohol would somehow distract him, but it didn’t. He sat up to scan the room, trying to find Stan, when he locked eyes with someone. The boy across the room grinned, and Eddie thought he looked familiar, but couldn’t place where he’d seen him before. He started to turn away, when he noticed him walking towards where he was sitting, and rolled his eyes.

“Eds!” The curly hair boy sat down next to him and flew an arm across his shoulder.

“What the-don’t call me that!” Eddie shoved him off. “Who the hell are you?”

“Eddie Spaghetti, you wound me. It’s only been a few hours and you’ve already forgotten me?”

Then he remembered. The creep that was looking at his ass at the coffee shop. “My name is just Eddie, asshole. And I thought I’d never have to see your face again, so I didn’t bother.” Eddie had no idea why he was being so rude to a stranger, but something about the boy in front of him made him unable to stop his word vomit.

Apparently, the boy wasn’t even offended because he gave out a hearty laugh before saying, “Yowza! Okay, Just Eddie, can we start over?” He was still grinning. “I’m Richie.”

He rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink, just as Stan was walking back towards where they were sitting.

“You ready to go?” He barely made a glance at Richie.

Eddie stood up, started walking away with Stan, and heard Richie say, “What the fuck?” He turned back and gave a small smile before the boy disappeared out of view.

Richie was in an irritating mood by the time Mike came back from the restroom. It was the second time he had been cockblocked by the same curly hair boy, and he was more than annoyed. Next time he saw Eddie, he wasn’t going to let him get away without having a decent conversation.

“What the hell happened to you?” Mike asked with a laugh.

“Nothing.” It was clearly something. “Let’s get out of here, Mikey.”

Richie had filled Mike in on what happened at the beach, and while the other boy was hesitant at first, he had agreed to go along with him. He said it’d be better for him to be there in case Richie got his ass kicked from mouthing off, to which Richie had given him the finger for.

Mike had told him a little about the club they were in. It was owned by a family named Kaspbrak, supposedly the biggest criminal organization in LA. The head of the family, Frank Kaspbrak, had died a few years back, and the organization is now being run by his wife, Sonia.

“She’s fucking crazy,” Mike had told him. “Chief and Ritz have been trying to get her for years. I hear she’s worse than Frank was. She really doesn’t care about who she crosses, and from what people say, it seems like almost everyone is afraid of her.”

“What’s the organization do?” Richie had to admit he was intrigued.

“Typical stuff like selling and smuggling drugs. Some hitman stuff too. The clubs and other businesses under the Kaspbrak name are supposedly a front. Crazy things go on behind the scenes, apparently. But no one has ever come close to finding any evidence to shut it all down.”

“What about the bodies? You think they’re related to the Kaspbrak situation?”

“Who knows. Chief doesn’t really talk about work at home.” Richie thought it was weird for Mike to call his grandfather Chief outside of work, but didn’t comment. “All I know is the age range is around 18-20 years old, boys and girls alike. Not all are bad kids either. Some of them have never even been arrested or had any record in school. I overheard Chief on the phone with Ritz the other day, though. Something about an overdose. So maybe that’s what’s happening to these kids.”

They decided to split up and had agreed to keep their badges hidden unless absolutely necessary. Mike seemed to think that two cops in the middle of a criminal den flashing their badges was not the right approach, and Richie had agreed. He may be thirsty for some action, but he sure wasn’t stupid. However, they had come up with absolutely nothing during the brief investigation. Either everyone here was in on a secret, or Richie was crazy, and the girl never worked here. Both him and Mike think it was the former. They had both noticed the “security” team slowly forming in the club the more they were pressing for information. Something was being covered up, and Richie knew it.

A/N: finaaaaally??? i hope i didn’t disappoint! i’m going to try to be a little faster with updates. this took a lot longer because i had a lot of planning to do to make sure that everything was going to flow. so i’m sorry >.< but i also work a lot, so i hope everyone can understand. anyway my ask box/messages are always open if anyone wants to send feedback/criticism! please, because it’ll help a lot! <3

@sassyclassysatan​ & @asteroidbill​ - wasn’t sure if you guys wanted to be tagged because your comment on the hc post… so i’m only going to tag you in the first chapter. if you want to stay, let me know! (:

tag list: @tomorrowtempley @zoinkstoto @ask-irljennarolan @staruris @killerxqueer @multifan-multishipper  @ravenpuffholland @drunkrichietozier @reddieformeerkat @stranger-than-cherry @lemonadeandrice @riverdalexvixens @riverswolfhard @tiptoeingquietly @wilding-throught-thehallways 

i hope i tagged everyone? let me know if i missed you (: