#id link the fic but thats too hard to do on my phone

[stemmmm]

my fucking plane won't take off so theseus' guide chapter 8 spoilers be upon ye

[early-sxnsets]

Scales, Fins, and other Fishy Daydreams

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18215168/chapters/43151156

Chapter 3/10 of It’s A Handheld Disaster

Word Count: 1553

Chapter Summary: Baz takes Simon's shitpost text a step further, and the outcome ends up spreading a few rumors.

SIMON

bi-sammy: sammy would still fuck huxley if he looked like the fish from shape of water

I grin smugly at my screen, sitting in a dark room with nothing shining but my mobile. The shutters stay shut, and the light from the bottom of the doorway barely filters into the room. It’s just me, this scratchy blanket, and Baz, somewhere else in England on another screen. I absolutely adore that.

gaystrell: why would you say something so controversial yet so brave.jpg

Sometimes, I catch myself smiling. Other times, I elect to ignore how real it feels. It’s weird, given that it feels like I’m just chatting with someone who I see everyday. The casualness of this reminds me of texting Penny in the afternoon on a Thursday.

Except, given the current time, it could be interpreted as more intimate than that of a friend’s text.

8am on a Saturday is usually a time reserved for comfort. For staying warm with someone you care about. Instead, I’m just messaging Baz.

bi-sammy: because im right

bi-sammy: hear me out here ive got a brilliant idea

gaystrell: whoever taught you the definition of a brilliant idea was clearly misleading you

bi-sammy: dont be an arse until youve heard it

bi-sammy: wanker

gaystrell: you’re truly proving your point

bi-sammy: ANYWAY

bi-sammy: shape of water au

bi-sammy: thats all

gaystrell: i’m appalled.

gaystrell: hold on.

I don’t think much of it. Occasionally, he disappears for an hour to two. I don’t bother asking, assuming it’s none of my business, but I do tend to worry a bit. I hope he’s alright.

After clicking off my phone, my head settles against my pillow as my eyes fall shut.

There’s something about this. There’s something about him. It’s a bit hard to pinpoint what it is, but the overwhelming feeling of comfort I have in the notifications I get from him just answering my bullshit is incredibly welcomed. He’s semisweet. I don’t know why I didn’t see it earlier, but he’s a fantastically bitter person.

My head slowly turns over, eyes opening and straining in the darkness.

I hate my empty room.

I hate the absence of comfort--I hate the plainness of these walls.

I want to say I hate my foster dad, but I also feel like I’m not allowed to say that. Not because the system will take me again and throw me back (even though I could have left a year back, if I was still in it). Instead, I feel like I shouldn’t hate him. Theoretically, I should be thankful for what I have. I’m not in a boy’s home, and I haven’t been since I was 11, but the remnants remain. The fights don’t go away, and neither do the weeks of starvation.

Still, I sort of despise living here under Davy.

That’s what he makes me call him. His name. His nickname. Not dad; of course not dad. He’s had me in his care for roughly six years, but he’s still Davy to me.

Shitty fucking Davy, with his strict curfews and practically using me as a housemaid because he’s too cheap to care for himself.

Shitty fucking Davy, not letting me add anything to my room because the day I turn 18, I’m out of here until his next kid (and cheque, apparently) come in. Told me I’d wreck the walls and ruin his furniture if I did put anything on it, too.

So that’s what I’ve got. Blank walls, blank furniture, blank everything. It’s like a jail cell for a bedroom, and everything I’ve got to show for myself is in a backpack and two dresser drawers/

But, at least, I own my mobile.

Every summer job, mixed with odds and ends shit and whatever I can do for my bill. It’s all mine, and Davy can’t fucking touch it.

Maybe that’s why, when I feel it buzz against my chest, it makes me feel more alive. It’s a reminder of all that work just to be able to talk to someone freely.

Arguably, the best feeling in the goddamn world.

I grab it and flip it over. It’s just an email about uni.

Fuck.

I end up scrolling through tumblr for a little while, doing nothing but liking and reblogging a thing here or there. It takes a little while before a little drop down falls from the top of my screen.

gaystrell: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1r7Wkwj7MSFk0--DgquHGhYVBbqneEYq0J01t0uMRmxA/edit?usp=sharing

gaystrell: feel the need to apologize before you click the link, but then again, you asked for this hell

When I click on it, it pulls up a doc titled just “crackfic”, and I’m floored with the first sentence alone.

“Fuck my fish ass harder, daddy.”

My hand flies up, covering my mouth as I practically wheeze as quietly as possible. A few paragraphs in and I’m nearly crying into my palm, muffling my laughter as I read through pages upon pages of the most ridiculous fic I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.

I check the word count out of pure curiosity, and it somehow makes me laugh harder.

bi-sammy: holy fucking shit

bi-sammy: i swear to god if you don’t post that i will

gaystrell: already in the process of making the archive post

gaystrell: i seriously believe you underestimate my sincere ability to be the biggest dick on the street

bi-sammy: i dont know whether or not u meant that as ur literal dick or the big dick energy in making that a post but id probably agree with you in both

bi-sammy: tag me in the post pls i want to be the first to reblog it

gaystrell: you’re a ridiculous, sad, little man

gaystrell: of course i’ll tag you

Within minutes, it’s uploaded with the absolute worst slew of Archive tags attached to it, and as soon as he tags me in his post, I tap the notification.

Scales, Fins, and other Fishy Daydreams

Word Count: 3,192

Summary: Fish!Huxley and Sam get it on Shape of Water style

@bi-sammy this is your fault (you're welcome)

I immediately slam like and pull up reblog, rapidly typing out my response before posting.

absolute madman. cant believe youve done this. i trust you with my entire life.

As usual, he's quick to reblog back.

anything for the absolute pain in my life x

Smiling shamelessly, I ride on the moment's high as our conversation stays out in the world. I quite enjoy this version of his softness. The public, taunting replies to mine. In all this time of following him, I can't really recall him ever being this friendly with anyone but me.

Makes me feel special. Maybe too much so.

BAZ

The jarring shock of the seemingly endless notifications rattles me momentarily speechless.

It isn't even 15 minutes after I'd replied to Snow and there's already a few people reblogging it with comments about him and I. A quick “i ship y'all’ to “powermove of the century”. Each make me flush deeper as the replies flood in.

If I were to be practical, I'm aware that I shouldn't be so flustered over the concept of us being a couple. It's most likely my overactive, sad, lonely imagination, but the idea of being loved just makes me blush. Especially since it's someone who doesn't seem to absolutely loathe me.

gaystrell: are you reading these?

bi-sammy: the what?

bi-sammy: i have. nothing to read. i cant read.

gaystrell: use your two remaining brain cells look at the notes for the crackfic

bi-sammy: holy shit

bi-sammy: im cackling

A notification pops up, making me snort this time. I pull up the post and send it off to him without a second thought.

gaystrell: sent a post

gaystrell: “sounds like something huxley would do for sam”

bi-sammy: stop im gonna piss myself shits too fucking funny

I pull it back up, scrolling down to reblog and adding a quick reply that, in all honesty, I should have thought out more. Secretly, part of me is glad that I sent it.

huxley wishes he was this smooth ;)

Within seconds, replies flood in from everywhere. From jokes about Snow and I possibly dating to the concept of Huxley writing (purposefully) shitty homoerotica about himself as a fishman. I quite like the conversation about the latter, while the former makes my chest knot in ways inexplicable.

Going through the notes makes me smile, even if it's mildly embarrassing. The amount of times I've seen the eyes emoji used is definitely excessive, but still somewhat welcomed.

Even my archive has a few comments already, although more based around the fic itself. More ironically, though, is the one person who probably took it seriously and just commented, “Nice fic!” I love the abundance of shameless appreciation for obscure fanfiction in the depths of this community.

Snow's messages roll down my mobile screen as I'm checking the comments, continuously replacing the previous message for the top slot.

bi-sammy: mate

bi-sammy: i love you

bi-sammy: also every time you reblog something of mine i get like 5 followers

bi-sammy: if you mention me i get 10

bi-sammy: youre???????????? a god????????

bi-sammy: can i marry you????????????

I slowly close my laptop, eyes on my phone with an absolutely gleeful grin.

gaystrell: when and where?

[bittysvalentines]

If Pies Could Talk

Happy Valentine’s Day, @BajillionKittens!  I think I hit all of your requests, so I hope you enjoy the fic!  Thanks to Georgia and Silvia for organizing everything again this year! 

Love from @aflailureandamasterpiece aka Julibean19 

If Pies Could Talk (also on AO3)

Summary: Jack wants to ask Bitty something but he can’t find the words. If pies could talk, they’d call him a lovable failboat.

Zimbits, Explicit, POV Jack, Bottom!Jack, Communication Failure, Baking Jack, Cuddling & Snuggling, Special Appearances by Dex and Señor Bun

“Bits?” Jack asks, gently pushing unruly blond curls off Eric’s forehead.  “Time to get up.”

A soft, negative noise meets Jack’s ears as Bitty groans and rolls over, showing Jack his back.  

“I know it’s early, bud,” Jack says, lifting his comforter back and sliding into bed behind his boyfriend.  “But it’s not checking practice early… it’s 9 a.m.”

“It’s Saturday,” Bitty protests, pulling Jack’s arm around his waist and shuffling backward into his chest.  “It’s the day of rest. We’re resting.”

“Isn’t the day of rest Sunday?”

“Do not chirp me,” Bitty mumbles, barely turning his head toward Jack, eyes still closed.  “It’s five a.m.”

“It’s nine.”

“Do you want to argue or do you want to cuddle?”

Jack smiles, leaning in to press the tip of his nose to Bitty’s hairline and taking a deep breath.  Exhaling, he kisses the side of Eric’s throat, delighting in the happy murmur and wriggle of appreciation it gets him.  “I want to cuddle,” Jack whispers, still smiling.

He set an alarm on his phone anyway.  They have time. Settling back into his pillow, Jack pulls Bitty tight to his body and lets his eyes fall closed.

When his timer goes off forty minutes later, it feels like it’s only been a few seconds.  Jack groans and reaches for his phone, eager to stop the pop music that’s blaring from the speakers.  “Did you change my ringer to Beyoncé?” he asks, opening one bleary eye to silence the alarm.

“It’s Nicki Minaj, you heathen,” Bitty mutters, rolling over to face him.  

“It’s terrible,” Jack insists, dropping his phone back onto the nightstand as Bitty’s fingers slip under the hem of his tee.  “Crisse, your hands are cold.”

“Feel like warming me up?” Eric asks, apparently much more awake than Jack is.  

“Just come here,” Jack says, sliding one arm under Bitty’s neck and pulling them flush together.  He hooks his chin over Eric’s shoulder and curls around him, rubbing soothing circles against his lower back.

“This is nice,” Bitty says, sighing contentedly, letting himself sink into Jack’s body.  “We should do this every morning.”

“If we did this every morning we’d never make it to Faber.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Bitty says, breath hot against the side of Jack’s throat.

“Coach Hall might have something to say about it.”

“Well,” Bitty says, nipping Jack’s skin, “he’s not here right now.”

“That would be awkward.”

“I’m trying to set a mood here, Mister Zimmermann.  Work with me.”

“Oh,” Jack says, feeling his face heat.  He had been enjoying their morning snuggles so much he hadn’t noticed the hardness growing against his hip.  

“Yeah,” Bitty says, breathy and low.  “Oh.”

Before Jack has a chance to respond, Eric is rolling on top of him, straddling his thighs.  He looks up to see the sunlight bouncing off Bitty’s hair, giving him an ethereal glow. The effect is gorgeous and has Jack flicking his eyes to his phone and considering pulling up his camera app.

“I want you,” Eric says simply, biting down on his lower lip.

Smiling, Jack crooks his finger at him until he drops down low enough to kiss.

The moment Eric’s lips meet his, Jack melts, sinking deep into his pillows.  He runs his palms under Bitty’s sleep-worn shirt and splays them across his back possessively, moaning into his mouth.

Eric hasn’t brushed his teeth, but Jack did just before waking him, so it’s easy to ignore in favor of sucking on his tongue.  It’s hot, but slow—a deep kiss that Jack can take his time with. He pulls Eric in even closer and sucks on his bottom lip until Bitty is whining into his mouth.

Eager to find what other desperate sounds he can pull from Bitty, Jack reaches up to cup the back of his head before rolling them over and settling his hips between Eric’s thighs.

“Lord, I love when you do that,” Eric breathes, eyes fluttering shut as Jack slides his hands up his stomach, taking his shirt with them.  

“I love when you wear my clothes to bed,” Jack says, pulling the old Habs tee over Eric’s head.

“If we could turn up the heat once in a blue moon maybe I’d sleep naked.”

“I’ll consider it,” Jack breathes against Bitty’s exposed stomach.  He nudges one of Bitty’s nipples with his nose before wrapping his lips around it.  It might be nice to sleep wrapped around a naked Bitty, but Jack also likes what they have—a warm cocoon of bedding and threadbare pajamas—a twin bed just barely big enough for two.

“Fuck, Jack,” Bitty whines, arching into his mouth.  

Jack switches to the other side and sucks until Bitty’s hands fly up to twine into his hair, not pulling, but tensing every time a shiver runs through his body.  Letting out a satisfied huff of breath, Jack pulls off and follows his hands down to Bitty’s waist, licking and biting a line down his stomach on the way.

“Will you blow me?” Eric asks, trailing his fingers along the curve of Jack’s jaw.  “Your mouth is so hot and wet. God, it feels so good,” he says as Jack nibbles along the waistband of his borrowed flannel bottoms.  

Jack sighs.  

If only he found it just as easy to ask for what he wanted.  It’s not that he dislikes doing this for Bitty—quite the contrary—but there’s something else he’s been dying to try.  He just hasn’t been able to get the words out yet.

Hooking his thumbs into the elastic, Jack pulls Bitty’s pants down, lifting them up and over his erection and then down to mid-thigh.  He leans back for a moment just to look his fill.

Eric’s thighs are trapped together by the elastic, but otherwise he’s exposed, golden skin on display for Jack to admire.  His forearms look pale in comparison, and Jack marvels at the soft hair that sits below Eric’s navel, leading to his cock.

“God, I want you to fuck me,” Bitty sighs, looking down at him with his lower lip caught between his teeth.  

“Later,” Jack says, leaning down to get his lips around the head and lick at the bead of fluid at the tip.  The salt hits Jack’s tongue and he can’t stop the groan that builds in his chest at the taste.

Eric squirms below him, so Jack drapes his forearm across Bitty’s stomach and presses him back into the mattress.  He sinks down lower, taking more of Eric into his mouth before licking back up.

Bitty breathes hard above him, already panting before Jack even really gets started.  They’ve been doing this for a few months now, but every time with Eric feels like the first time—eager and a little sloppy, but also brilliant and intense and all-consuming.

He takes Bitty deep, relaxing around the stretch in his throat when Eric jerks under him, sitting up so abruptly Jack chokes before he has a chance to pull off.  

“Sorry, sorry!  God, I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Bitty says, thumb rubbing across Jack’s wet lips.  “It’s just… do you smell something burning?”

“Tabarnak!” Jack curses, dropping his head to Bitty’s bare thigh in defeat.  He groans, high and pained as he shakes his head back and forth. “I’ll go check.”  Pulling away, Jack rises to his feet and slowly marches downstairs, furious with himself.

By the time he reaches the kitchen, Dex is pulling the charred remnants of a pie out of the oven and Bitty is hot on his heels, redressed in his pajamas.

“I’m so sorry Bitty,” Dex sighs, placing the burnt wreck on the stovetop with Bitty’s cherry print oven mitts.  “I thought I’d gotten the temperature to stay even this time, but it must be on the fritz again.”

Jack rubs his fingers over his temples as Dex retrieves his toolbox from the hall and pulls out what he thinks he’ll need.  “I’m really sorry about your pie, Bitty. Once I get it working again I’ll take you to Murder Stop & Shop for some more butter, okay?”

“That—” Bitty stops short, peering over at the blackened crust.  “That wasn’t my pie. The lattice looks nice though. Which one of y’all found my vlog?” he says, voice raised to call through the Haus this time.  “If I find the link on Twitter, I swear to Beyoncé I will end you.”

“It’s not—” Jack hesitates, hand clasped warily over his eyes.  “I made it,” he finishes, voice so low he can barely hear it over the pounding of his own heart.

“You… you made this?  Jack, honey,” he says, fingers catching Jack by the wrist and pulling until he stops covering his face.  “Did you make this pie for me?”

Jack nods, unable to find any words to explain further.

“Dex,” Bitty says, fingers now intertwined with Jack’s, “Thank you so much for tryin’, but I don’t think Betsy’s broken.”

“Are you sure?  Because the temperature has been all over the place and—”

“I distracted Jack.  He made that pie for me, but I burnt it.  Betsy’s working just fine. Isn’t that right, sugar?”

Jack nods, looking up just in time to see Dex’s face flush under his freckles.

“We’ll clean this up later,” Bitty says to Dex, reaching out to shut the oven off before pulling Jack by the hand all the way back upstairs to his room.

When they’re finally alone, Jack collapses against the back of the door, his entire body shaking slightly.

“Do you want to tell me what all that was about?” Eric asks him, hands on his hips.

Jack opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.  

“Honey, what’s wrong?”  In just a few steps, Eric is directly in front of him, cupping his cheeks and tilting his face up.  “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Taking a deep breath, Jack steels himself.  “I was trying to—”

He can’t do it.  It’s not happening.  This was all a stupid idea and now Bitty’s looking at him, wide brown eyes soft and expectant and Jack can’t say it.  He can’t say anything at all.

“Trying to what, sweetpea?”

A long minute passes before Jack can bear to open his mouth again.  “I wanted to ask—”

“Jack,” Bitty says, breath catching slightly on his name, “please tell me that was not a proposal pie—because as much as I love you, I am nineteen years old.  That would just be too much for us right now.”

“No,” Jack says, clearing his throat.  “No. I wasn’t trying to propose.”

“Jesus Christ on a cracker, you had me worried.”

“Not that I wouldn’t—”

“We will have that conversation later, mister.  Much later,” he says firmly, but with a sweet smile that speaks to their bright future together.  

“Okay,” Jack agrees readily, taking a deep breath.  They really are getting ahead of themselves.

“What’s this all about then?”

Jack sighs, resigning himself to embarrassment.  “You know sometimes words are hard for me.”

Bitty nods, tangling their fingers together again.

“I thought maybe if I made you something… you would�� ”

“Be able to read your mind?” Bitty says, with a fond laugh.  “I love that you tried to bake for me, honey, I do. But even the perfect raspberry pie isn’t going to be able to tell me whatever it is you want me to know.”

“It sounds so stupid when you say it like that.”

“It’s not stupid.  It’s actually kind of adorable, but I’d rather you were comfortable enough to just tell me what you’re feeling.  How can I make this easier for you?”

“I don’t think you can,” Jack says, voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” Bitty says, pulling Jack’s hand again until he stands.  “I have an idea.” He locks his door and flicks the lights off before leading Jack over to his bed and pulling the curtains shut.  

Jack gets in as soon as Eric yanks the covers back and relaxes into the mattress only after Bitty is curled around his back, tucking the duvet around them tight.

“Sometimes the hard things… they’re easier to say in the dark,” Eric tells him, breath hot and comforting against the back of his neck.  “So we’re just going to lie here for a while and if you feel like you’re ready, you can tell me. I promise I won’t laugh or be upset or anything.”

“I don’t—I didn’t think you would laugh.  I’m just nervous,” Jack tells the darkness.  Light still peeks through around the curtains, but he closes his eyes and pretends it’s midnight, that they’re alone in the Haus, that his words will never see the light of day—will never leave this room.

“Here,” Bitty says, reaching behind him and returning with Señor Bun.  He presses the doll into Jack’s hand before pulling the duvet up around their shoulders again.  “He’ll make you brave.”

“Now I feel weird,” Jack says, huffing out a laugh.  “I can’t talk about sex with him looking at me.”

“So this is about sex, huh?” Bitty asks, taking Señor Bun out of Jack’s hands and setting him on the window sill facing away from them.  “What Bun doesn’t see can’t hurt him.”

“He’s seen a lot already,” Jack points out.

“Well, if things are about to get kinky, I’d rather keep him in the dark.  Whatever it is you want, I’m sure we could work something out. So why don’t you just tell me?  I promise to keep an open mind.”

“It’s nothing kinky,” Jack says quietly.  “I don’t think it is, at least.”

“Then what has you so nervous?”

“I don’t know.  It just—Parse didn’t—” Jack can’t finish the thought.

“It’s something you feel like you shouldn’t want?  Because Kent didn’t?”

“I guess?”

“Honey,” Eric breathes, snaking a hand under the hem of Jack’s shirt and resting his palm against Jack’s bare chest.  “Whatever it is. I won’t judge you. I just want you to be happy.”

“I want…” Jack takes a deep breath just as Bitty presses his hand tight against his heart, pushing them together.  The pressure is comforting, grounding. Jack takes strength from it and finally finds his courage. “I want—I need you to make love to me.  I need you to fuck me.”

Bitty sucks in a surprised breath and then lets it out slowly, the air ruffling the back of Jack’s hair, making his skin pebble.  He leans in until his lips are just grazing the shell of Jack’s ear and asks, “That’s what you want?”

“Yes,” Jack says, a tingle shooting down his spine.  Heat spreads through his body as Eric hitches his hips even tighter to Jack’s ass, betraying his arousal.  

“All you had to do was ask, sugar,” Eric says, voice pitched low.  “I’d be a fool to not want to make love to you. And I am many things, but I’m no fool.”

“Please,” Jack whimpers, all shame gone.  The tone of Eric’s voice coupled with the insistent press of his erection has Jack hard and leaking already.  When Eric’s teeth come down around the tendon in his throat, he whines, unabashed. It sounds pitiful, but he doesn’t even try to muffle it.  He wants Eric to know how badly he needs this.

It’s a matter of seconds before they’re naked, clothes flung to far corners of the room, duvet lost on the floor.  Jack wouldn’t be surprised if his Habs tee was ripped at the collar considering how forcefully he yanked it off Bitty’s body.

Bitty preps him quickly, the both of them too keyed up to take their time.  As Eric slides a condom over himself, Jack feels an ache deep in his body, a ravenous, empty pain that has him hitching his knees up to his ears.  

Biting down on his lip, Eric slowly pushes into him.  He takes several measured breaths and then begins to move, absolute filth spilling out of his mouth.  In a matter of seconds, Eric is tensing above him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re so fucking perfect, baby,” is the last thing Jack hears before Bitty buries himself deep, coming in rhythmic pulses inside him.

It’s over before Jack feels fully satisfied, but that just makes his hunger pangs more pronounced.  He ignores them knowing Bitty will be ready again soon enough—that he always has more stamina the second time around.  Jack is already the first to know what Bitty feels like when he orgasms—the first to hold Eric inside his body. He shouldn’t be greedy, as much as his body begs to differ.

As fingers quickly take the place of Eric’s softening cock, Jack thrusts down hard remembering all the ways Bitty has explored his body—has touched every inch of him.  Eric knows him now… knows everything.

He comes with three fingers spreading him wide and Eric’s name on his lips.  

Neither of them touch his cock.

It’s messy and overwhelming and everything a first time should be.  

Jack can’t wait to do it again.  

“Thank God you burnt that pie,” Bitty says, breathless, as he flops onto his back next to Jack.

“Why?”

“If you came at me with a perfect raspberry pie right now after what we just did I’d think I was still dreaming.”

“Well, we’re out of raspberries now, but I could go to the store…”

“Jack Zimmermann.  What did I do to deserve you?”

“You taught me to make pie in the first place.  It was really all your fault,” Jack says, resting his head on Eric’s chest, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“I can’t believe you’re chirping me right now.  You’re the one that made me a ‘Please Fuck Me Pie!’”

“I can’t believe you didn’t know I was flirting with you that whole class.”

“I thought you were just really concerned about your GPA,” Bitty whines in embarrassment.

“Thank God we got an A,” Jack says, copying Eric’s turn of phrase.  “If we didn’t maybe we wouldn’t be dating right now.”

“You’re saying Betsy brought us together?”

“I’m saying I think we owe Dex a thank you gift.”

Thanks for reading!  Happy Valentine’s Day!

[reddieforakiss]

can u pretty please do either a sleepover realization of feels for reddie or just them being adorable and in love at school?? i would love that sm:))

Love the sleep over idea!! also holdin’ onto the school idea for later

We Belong (belong together)

//A Reddie Sleepover Fic (rated T) 

- the boys are 17// content warning for light underage drinking and passionate smoochin

- 3,669 WORDS

( this song will come in handy to get the full feel later on in the fic, so i suggest you listen to it either before, during, or after)

———————————————————————

  It was a Saturday night and Richie Tozier was straightening his room, Eddie  was coming over soon and he wanted the room to look nice (well as nice as a mess like that it could be). Richie and Eddie had sleep overs almost every weekend since they were in sixth grade when Eddies mom decided he was finally old enough to have them. They always planned their sleepovers for Saturdays so they could spend the day together as well as the night, opposed to purely nights after a long day of school on Friday. It always went as following: Eddie came over at 3pm, they talked until in got dark out (god they could talk for hours), walked down to the convenience store around 9pm and headed back to the house to eat their snacks and drink their booze. Paul, a scrawny red head riddled with acne, worked at the store and would let Richie buy beers with his not so convincing fake ID. In exchange Richie would try and “set Paul up” with girls he knew, none of which ever working out to Paul’s disappointment. Some nights he and Eds would do an activity like see a movie, or go to a shitty concert, but it was a rare occasion because both of them would have to save up their allowances for weeks to afford it.

The time was now 2:54pm and Richie heard a knock at the door, he jolted his head up from the electric cords he was fiddling with, a new record player. Richie shoved the rest of the filth under his bed and jogged out of his room to open the door. Right when Eddie was about to knock again, Richie swung the door open and posed in the frame of it, “couldn’t wait to see me, huh?”.  Eddie laughed and rolled his eyes, his pale blue duffle bag slung over his shoulder, “Oh i absolutely could not, I missed by husband”, he smiled up at Richie and stepped inside, Richie blushes stupidly. Richie and Eddie had always flirted as a joke but recently it was starting to make Richie feel,, well he didn’t know how it made him feel but it was just different. Richie shut the front door and  Eddie lead the way back to Richie’s room, throwing his bag on Richie’s bed and flopping down on it. “Parents not home?”, Eddie said, staring up at Richie’s navy blue ceiling. “You know it babe”, Richie laughed and sat on his bed next to Eddie. “So whats the plan tonight?”, Eddie sat up and looked at Richie smiling. “Ah just the usual, but i was thinking we could be a little wild and order Chinese rather than gorging gas station treats”, Richie wiggled his eyebrows and Eddie giggled. “OhhhH fancy!”, he grabbed his bag and placed it on his lap. “Well”, Eddie rummaged through the duffle and pulled out 3 VHS tapes, “I got some new movies from the video rental and i figured we could watch one”. Eddie held up all three chunky cases,  Say Anything, Sixteen Candles, and The Princess Bride,, all romances Richie noticed. “Ew why all the romance Eds, you trynna say something?”, Richie had really hoped he was, Eddie looked flushed but Richie figured it was the lighting. “No, they just happen to be good movies, asshole”, he set them down on the bed between them and pointed to Say Anything, “I really wanna watch that one, Bev says its good. But”, he pointed to The Princess Bride, “I know you like adventure so i grabbed that one too”. “How thoughtful my spaghetti man, but i’m feeling nice so we can watch your lame one”, Richie smiled down at Eddie, he still towered over the boy in their teenage years. “Okay first off its not lame, its romantic. And secondly, im sure you could use some pointers so take notes you fuckin’ anti-romeo.”. Richie laughed and picked up the VHS case and walked over to the small dingy TV that was across from his bed. Eddie got up and held onto Richie’s shirt sleeve, grab me more, “Not yet! I wanna watch it tonight with dinner!”. “Okay fine”, Richie walked back over to the bed and patted beside him, “Lets just chill then”. Eddie walked back over and they laid down next to each other and talked about the week.

As hours passed, their positions changed. At first they laid side by side, Richie’s hand twitching and aching to reach over and grab Eddies, he didn’t know why. Soon Eddie scootched over and rested his head on Richie’s shoulder, Richie’s curly hair like a pillow for him, smells good. When Eddie was close to Richie he always felt safe, like a wave of warmth and calm would wash over him, it made him want to be even closer. When Eddie got the courage to rest his head on Richie’s chest, both their bodies tensed up. Why did they feel like that, why did they feel so starved of touch all of a sudden, why did they crave more. Eddie nuzzled in which warranted a shuttered exhale from the taller boy. Soon Richie’s hands were playing with Eddies hair and tangling his long spidery fingers through it. so soft. Without realizing it, they had both gone silent as conversation faded and focus was directed to touch. This is what close friends do. Close friends make each other feel safe, make each others chests feel warm and arms tense,, right? They had gone about thirty minutes without talking and Richie looked out the window near his bed, it was dark. For Richie, the comfortable silence became an anxious one and he croaked quietly, “H-hey wanna go to the Convenient Mart?”. Eddie looked up at him lazily from his chest with his long eye lashes, his lips looked so soft. what the fuck. Eddie smiled and pushed himself off Richie, stretching, “Mhm! Lets head!”. Eddie bounced off the bed and was already scrambling to get his shoes. Richie was slower but he got up eventually and before they knew it they were out the door. “Remember”, Richie cautioned, “4 bottle limit, and, tonight we are ordering Chinese so no snacks”. “You got it chief!”, Eddie ran ahead giddily and looked back to smile at Richie. “Come on ‘Chee! Wanna make it home soon so we can watch the movie”. Richie grinned and ran to catch up to Eddie. 

At the Mart they both waved hello to Paul and went straight to the back to look at the liquor. Rule was they got two each, which meant they had to choose wisely. Richie always liked the sweet stuff because he would always be a child at heart, while Eddie preferred light Mexican beers. Richie studied the back of each bottle, trying to find one with the highest alcohol content. He knew drinking shouldn’t be just for the buzz of being drunk, but the buzz sure was fun and it helped as an excuse for any weird shit he did. maybe if he got drunk he could try and figure his feelings out about Eddie. The logic was poor but Richie was desperate for answers. He ended up with some hard lemonade and some, probably shitty, raspberry flavored beer. Eddie got two Carona Lights, and they met at the counter to check out. Richie checked out and chatted it up with Paul about his latest encounters while Eddie walked out to use the payphone and call to order the Chinese. Earlier Richie had given Eddie the Brochure for the place so Eddie had folded it and put it in his fanny pack, Eddie stepped into the booth and rang the number. He ordered some noodle dish for himself and orange chicken for Richie, it was his known favorite. Eddie also ordered some potstickers, a large bottle of coke and extra fortune cookies. Eddie was giving the woman on the phone Richie’s home address as Richie stepped out of the store, Eddie held up his finger to silently say “one minute”. When Eddie hung up and walked out of the booth Richie snaked his arm around Eddies to link their elbows and the two began to walk. “How much was the Chinese?’, Richie asked as they came around a corner. “Just 17 dollars, nothin to sweat over”, Eddie shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t being held up by Richie’s grip due to their height difference. “I think i got some cash under my bed we can pay for it with”. “No don’t be silly Rich you know the deal, i pay for entertainment and food, you pay for booze and host”. “I know i know”, Richie sighed lightly when they arrived at his house and he unlocked the front door, “Just wanna be a gentleman for my Eds, thats all”. Richie held the door open for Eddie and let him go in first, making a show of it all, Eddie rolled his eyes and laughed. They brought the bag of booze to Richie’s room and put it on the floor, Richie grabbed the VHS of Say Anything, and cued it up to watch by the time the food arrived. Some dick who had rented it previously had not rewinded the tape which meant Richie had to unwind it, closing his eyes as not to get any spoilers. When the food arrived, Richie was still unwinding the tape so Eddie got the door and tipped the driver. Eddie brought in the takeout bag and plopped down on the floor next to Richie, close enough that it made Richie’s skin prickle. It had gone to the beginning and Richie paused it looking over at the food and grabbing towards it, Eddie slapped his hands away, “Nu-uh Richie let me set this up so you don’t make a big mess like you always do”. Richie made an exaggerated frown, “okay wifey”, he reached over to grab the booze bag and unpack it. Richie fished his pocket opener out of the pocket of his jeans and popped open his hard lemonade and one of Eddies Caronas. Eddie meanwhile was unpacking the food and laying it out as nice as he could in front of them, he had the shimmy the food boxes to nestle them into the carpet. If they spilt it would be a sticky and colorful mess, and Eddie knew he’d have to clean it up if he didn’t want it to be there forever. Richie looked over, “Ohh! Orange chicken! my favorite!!”, Richie leaned over and kissed Eddies shoulder. wait. why did. why did he just do that. They both tensed up but kept talking as to not make it a weird moment, thats just what friends do, they both thought. They scootched back against the side of Richie’s mattress and pressed play, Eddie giddy to see the movie that Bev had continuously raved about. A few minutes in and Richie had already finished his food and more than half the potstickers, Eddie on the other hand was slowly slurping his noodles in between sips of beer. Richie nursed his hard lemonade and rested his head on Eddies shoulder, already feeling his filter fade and a buzz come on. Despite his height, that boy was a lightweight, in fact they both were, Eds being tiny in every way and Richie just being a total bean pole. By the time things were becoming even slightly romantic Eddie was feeling nervous, staring all too often between the screen and Richie’s big mop of hair that lay on his shoulder. Why did he care? He had schoolboy crushes on Richie his whole life yea but, but they were never more than that. He had gotten over him and Richie never had to know, the boy being obviously straight after all. obviously. No one knew Eddie was gay anyways, and he was planning on waiting until college. Richie was just a friend, just a friend who made him feel things, a friend who-. Richie sighed and nuzzled deeper into Eddies shoulder. Shit. Feelings had faded or so he thought and now, god now he felt giddy all over again for his best friend, his straight best friend. Richie was oblivious to Eddies feelings, too focused on his own fidgity body. Eddie was so warm, so nice. Richie didnt know what it meant, he never felt like that before for anyone other than Eddie. Was this how best friendship feels? are you supposed to want to kiss your best friend? i mean moms kiss their little kids and we are like family so,,. Richie tried to justify it any way he could, the real answer right in front of him yet so easily unseen. 

When the infamous boom box scene played, they had both finished off all their drinks and food besides the fortune cookies. Richie sighed as Lloyd held up the boombox, “He shouldnta gone back for her, she’s a biTch.”. “Richie!”, Eddie teasingly yelled and swatted at the boys head which had somehow found itself resting on Eddies lap. Richie turned from the screen looked up at Eddie with furrowed brows, “But Eds he did his very best and she just gave em a pen”. Eddie smiled down sweetly at Richie, drunk on beer and his good looks, “Sometimes people don’t always do the right thing at first Rich, sometimes people get scared”, he pushed Richie’s hair back off of his face. “if i was in love id never be scared, id stay for ever ever”, Richie frowned. “Not all of us can be brave like you Rich”, Eddies heart ached a little when he smiled down at the boy. “Yeh, imma real Romeo. But to be fair i never been in love so i dunno how hard it is”, He fingered at the folds of eddies pajama pants and turned his face inward to face eddies stomach. god slightly drunk Richie is like a baby. “Mm yea its harder when you’re in love”, the melancholy in Eddies voice luckily unheard by Richie. “Eds whats it feel like?”, Richie looked back up at Eddie like a little kid asking to hear a bedtime story. “Well, it”, he started cautiously, “its hard to explain. Love is hard to explain because well we all feel it differently. I think i’ve been in love but im not sure, its hard to know sometimes”, he brushed his hand through Richie’s hair. Richie furrowed his brows again, “Well how does you’re ‘maybe love’ feel?”. Eddie paused for a moment. “It feels good, but aches at the same time. Its this feeling deep inside of you that makes you never want to let go of that person.” thats how Richie felt, fuck. “ Its this little part of your brain that just, just tells you to do things and you don’t know why. Love is feeling safe in someones arms.” i think i love you Eddie “Love is wanting the best in the world for someone. Love is wanting to give every piece of yourself away if it means that it would make that person smile. Love i-”. Richie leaned up and kissed Eddie. Eddie went stiff and his mouth hung open. why did Richie do that. Richie looked scared, Eddie would hate him. “R-Richie, why did you do that”, Eddie wanted to cry as he looked away from Richie. he was so fucking scared, scared it was all a joke, it was always a joke with Richie. Richie sat up quickly and turned away from Eddie, arms wrapping around his own huddled up knees. “Im sorry Eddie”, the shame rang high in his voice, his mind suddenly all too sober.  “Its just, you were describing it and i, i, i”, he was choking back tears, “Ive been so confused lately and i, i didn’t know what these feelings meant and, i think,”. His tone dropped dead serious with fear, ‘Eddie i think i love you”. Eddies tears began to fall now, dripping down his face. “Richie you idiot”, a smile present in his voice, “i love you too. Richie i was describing you”. “Really?”, disbelief yet a song of hope sang in Richies voice. Richie turned around to be surprised with an embrace. They were both crying like dorks. Eddie began to kiss Richie’s tears away, trailing up and down and Richie did the same, both touching each other like they’d always wanted to but were too afraid to admit to until now. Eddie held onto Richie like he was a lifesaver, held onto him like his life depended on it. He never wanted to let go, Richie didn’t either. They calmed and held each other closely like that for a while. 

Richie spoke up, “Hey Eddie”. Eddie looked up with a red, tear stained face. cute. “yeah Rich?”, he smiled weak and warm. “Can i show ya something?”. Eddie nodded and let go of Richie so he could get up. Eddie sat on the ground and saw Richie walk over to the record player and dig around in his giant pile of records looking for the right one. After a while of searching to no avail Eddie giggled, “Need any help there?”, “No no i got it hold your horses,, Ah! Here!”. Richie set the record down, flipped the switch and put the needle at the start of the song he wanted. 

♫♬Many times I tried to tell youMany times I cried aloneAlways I’m surprised how well you cut my feelings to the bone♫♬

Eddie got up and walked over to Richie who had turned to him with a smile. He held onto Richie and Richie offered out a hand for Eddie to take, so he took it.

♫♬Don’t want to leave you reallyI’ve invested too much time to give you up that easy♫♬

Eddie nestled his head into Richie’s shoulder and they rocked back and fourth to the beat.

♫♬To the doubts that complicate your mind♫♬

The music picked up and Richie began to spin Eddie around the room, swaying lazily in what could barely be called and dance. His hand was around Eddies waist and Eddies on his shoulder while their other hands remained clasped together.

♫♬We belong to the light, we belong to the thunderWe belong to the sound of the words we’ve both fallen underWhatever we deny or embrace for worse or for betterWe belong, we belong, we belong together♫♬

They both started to tear up again and held onto one another, their grips tightening in fear of loosing any contact at all. It was all Eddie had ever dreamed of, it was all Richie never knew he needed. 

♫♬Maybe it’s a sign of weakness when I don’t know what to sayMaybe I just wouldn’t know what to do with my strength anywayHave we become a habit? Do we distort the facts?♫♬

Richie danced Eddie down onto his bed and laid him down, looking over a tear stained, smiling and breathless Eddie. 

♫♬Now there’s no looking forwardNow there’s no turning back♫♬

Richie bent down in a buzzed confidence and kissed Eddie, this time with no questioning in his touch. This time he was so fucking sure of what he wanted and Eddie was too.

♫♬When you say We belong to the light, we belong to the thunderWe belong to the sound of the words we’ve both fallen underWhatever we deny or embrace for worse or for betterWe belong, we belong, we belong together♫♬

They kissed more and the music faded out from their ears, minds too focused on one another. The softer kisses turned into a starving passion of touchings and hums. Eddies arms snaked their way around Richie’s neck and pulled him down closer so Richie was on top of him, the contact they had both always needed. Hands were lazily drifting all over, touching and exploring, needing to feel everything and anything the other had to offer. Eddie scooted back so he could be all the way on the bed and Richie got up to walk around his bed and put his glasses on the night stand. He eagerly jumped back into bed which made Eddie giggle and go to kiss him again. Their cheeks were burning and so were their touches, fingers like searing fires on one another’s skin, a welcomed warmth. Eddie licked into Richie’s mouth and Richie obliged granting access, Richie moaned load from this which made Eddie hold onto him tighter. Eddie moved his fingers through Richie’s curly black hair and grabbed it a little too hard, earning an even louder moan from the boy which made Eddie smile into his mouth. Richie grasped at the bottom of Eddies shirt and tried to pull it up, Eddie disconnected and pulled it off. Before he reconnected with Richie he just stared at the boy, flush cheeks and swollen lips, fuck he was beautiful. Eddie moved close again and tried to pull off Richie’s shirt, being surprisingly successful without any of Richie’s help. Their bare chests touched, warm contact that sent an electric shock through their systems. So much more to feel, so soft, so rough, hot touches all over. Richie bent down to kiss and nip at Eddies neck and Eddie purred at the wetness of his mouth. “R-rich”, Eddie struggled out before Richie could move back to his lips, “Hm?” Richie looked up at him. “I think its time for bed”, he kissed Richie’s forehead. “oh, OH, sorry yea too fast”, Richie pulled away. Eddie closed the gap again, “aha no not too fast, just not sober ya know? wanna take in every new moment”. “mmm” Richie kissed Eddies lips lightly, “Makes sense”. Richie grabbed some pillows and dragged them underneath their heads. Eddie nuzzled his face in the crook of Richie’s neck and held onto him like a koala bear, legs wrapped around him and everything. Richie kissed Eddies hair, “I love you”, Eddie smiled up, “I love you too”.