#it becomes less about not disappointing Eddie and more about ‘there was nothing I could say that would make it stop’

[mustlovesteve]

I’ve read some excellent one-shots but… Are there any longer Steddie fics where Steve doesn’t tell Eddie about the Russian torture trauma and agrees to be tied up but gets triggered by that?

[inklessletter]

The first time Steve hears Eddie singing that song, it's nothing but a absent-minded humming while he's doing something else. Writing something down, he thinks, for the campaign, probably.

Steve knows that song, that's why he smiled when he heard the soft, muffled tone falling out of Eddie's throat. Steve's heard Will singing it, and it's so painfully Jonathan, that song wears his signature all over. Maybe it's because it's The Smiths, and The Smiths is Jonathan.

Steve holds a smile and keeps himself busy, away from Eddie's eyes, because of course, that's what he does. No need to cause a scene, he could go on with his day without Eddie asking him "why are you smiling like an airhead?" Nah, thank you very much.

It's not his music scene, but Steve admits that it has been a favourite since it came out. It was just so goddamn relatable. He first heard it when Nancy dumped him, and sometimes, when he was working at Scoops, he could hear that song coming from the rock station Robin liked, coming from the backroom. No surprise she likes that song too.

Those were dark times for him. Summer job at Scoops, that is. It was a disappointment after another; no university, no high school anymore, no girlfriend, no status to hide after, no friends but the kids he drove all around Hawkins (and yet, three weeks away from Dustin, who was the only one who actually went to see him without asking for anything in return), the most embarrassing dry spell and having absolutely zero idea of what to do next. And that song just randomly filled the air and he indulged himself for two minutes to sulk on his own misery and he felt surprisingly less depressed right after.

So, yeah, that song holds a special meaning for him, a soothing balm for his broken heart, a good nostalgia from his darkest period.

And it comes back to him, from Eddie's voice, and it comes to stay the rest of the day. The rest of the week.

It makes him sad. A good sad, Steve guesses.

He's not really better than a couple years ago, but he's less scared, which is undeniably a victory.

He lets out a sigh and walks away from Eddie, leaves him there, happy and focused and begging.

Steve comes to notice that Eddie sings that song a lot, and he's making it his business not to ask, not to sing along, not to say or do anything that may reveal that Eddie's version of that song is becoming so fast the best he's ever heard.

The day the older side of the group go to see him play with his band, and at some point, he just sits and grabs an acoustic guitar and sings it, that one song, the world turns around. It's hard to keep a straight face, and to breathe regularly. A prayer, a begging in form of ballad, the room is in respectful silence, or if there is any background noise his brain makes the greatest job ignoring it.

Feels Robin's hand slipping through his palm and lacing fingers, but he doesn't look at her.

He can't.

His lips, disloyal and treacherous bastards, shape the last sentence of the song.

Lord knows it would be the first time.

The last chord fills the negative space and the bar noises are there again out of the sudden, and some of his friends are shouting nice things, and Eddie is graciously discarding the acoustic guitar and grabbing his sweetheart again and Steve is hoping to go unnoticed when he wipes his face in a quick movement.

He knows Robin sees it, but she says nothing, merciful and elegant.

The gig goes on for a couple of more songs and it's far too soon when Eddie is there, letting himself fall on the stool next to him, all pleased and content and full of black smudged eyeliner and Steve knows he has to say something to him, so he opts to go with, "I really like that song."

It doesn't need any more saying, because Eddie grins and fucking bites his bottom lip, and looks at the floor like it's the most interesting thing in the world, leaning on the bar next to Steve, and Steve knows, he just knows Eddie knows which one he's talking about.

"Yeah. I bet you do."

He doesn't tease, doesn't go with the rancid bUt YoU lIsTeN tO tEaRs FoR fEaRs In YoUr CaR aLl tHe tImEeE shit like the kids like to whine. He doesn't pretend not to know which one he's talking about. Steve smiles at him, buys the guy a beer.

"So, Robin told you? About, uh, about the song."

He tries a bit too hard to look unaffected, but the label of his cold beer bottle has seen better days. Steve feels Eddie going still and turning his head to face him, wielding such soft, almost pitiful expression that makes Steve's inside go still, lungs not working, muscles tense, blood frozen in his veins, and somehow scalding in his cheeks. He dares to look at Eddie, who whispers, "She did not."

The time stops, or so Steve thinks, when he turns his head to look at Eddie, not really moving an inch.

The question goes unspoken.

The answer is one second too long of both their gazes taking residence in the other guy's lips.

And the song comes alive in Steve's mind, and his lips move again.

So for once in my life

let me get what I want

Lord knows, it would be the first time

[corroded-hellfire]

Steve having a little sister (who’s like a first-time) senior who has a crush on Eddie. But she’s a cheerleader, her parents expect her to marry an Ivy League, senator’s son or something. She kept her crush a secret until Jason calls him a freak in front of the whole cafeteria- and she punches him.

I had so much fun writing this request! I hope you enjoy what I've come up with, and if you notice the joke I stole from Glee, no you didn't. Reader’s race is not specified and she could be adopted because adoption is a wonderful, amazing thing. Harrington!reader and Eddie 4ever.

Words: 3.1k

“Mr. Munson, late again, I see.” 

Mrs. O’Donnell heaves a disappointed sigh as Eddie gives her an over the top smile.

“Sorry, had a meeting with the principal. He wanted to know why you gave me detention again.”

Mrs. O’Donnell frowns. “I didn’t give you detention.”

“Oh, phew,” Eddie says as he slides into his seat. “Glad to hear it. I’ll try and be on time next time.” 

The class lets out a titter of laughter as Mrs. O’Donnell rolls her eyes and turns back to the board. The dopey grin is stuck on your face as you lean forward in your seat. Resting your upper body on your desk, you bite your bottom lip as you look Eddie up and down. From your vantage point, you can only see the back left side of him, but you’ll stare at that for the entirety of the class period if you can. 

“Miss Harrington?”

Begrudgingly, you tear your gaze away from Eddie’s glorious hair and see Mrs. O’Donnell watching you impatiently. 

“Um, yes?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to enlighten us about the Stamp Act?” the elderly woman says. 

“Uh…” you trail off, mind suddenly blank of everything that isn’t Eddie Munson. “I would not.”

A few people in the class let out snorts of laughter, but Eddie barks out the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. It makes your stomach fizzle, and your head feel all floaty. Even O’Donnell’s disapproving scowl can’t dampen your giddiness. 

The rest of class, you’re riding on a high. You made Eddie laugh. Out of all the accomplishments in your life, you’re not sure if one has ever meant more to you. Making honor roll? Eh. Becoming a cheerleader? So what? Doesn’t compare to making the cutest guy you’ve ever seen laugh.

Okay, you tell yourself. When class is over, you’re going to talk to him. The bell rings, and you’re scrambling to get your things together. Tossing them into your bag, you sling it over your shoulder and follow Eddie out of the classroom. 

“H-Hey, Eddie?” you manage.

He turns his head to look over his shoulder and gives you a smile that has your heart stuttering.

“Hey, Harrington. What’s up?”

“Did you see A Nightmare on Elm Street Part 2?” you ask, somehow not stumbling over your words. You’d had Steve bring the VHS tape home for you to watch just so you could ask Eddie about it.

“Freddy’s Revenge?” Eddie asks, wrinkling his nose up. “Such a letdown after the first one.”

“Yeah,” you say with a chuckle. “The first one was pretty good. This one made me want to fall asleep.”

“Ironic,” Eddie says with a smirk. He opens the school door for you, and you give him a grateful smile as you step out into the parking lot. You watch as he digs his keys out of his pocket. “See you tomorrow, Harrington.”

“Bye, Eddie.” You’re staring at him as he walks away, and you know you need to stop. But how can you when his ass looks the way it does in his jeans? Once he hops into his van, the trance is broken, and you make your way to your brother waiting in his car at the other end of the parking lot. 

You groan as you yank open the car door and slip inside. Steve looks less than thrilled himself, but it has nothing to do with you. Your parents are forcing the two of you to join them at a company party tonight, which both of you are vehemently against. But Steve was tasked with picking you up from school, taking you home so both of you can get ready, then to the party. 

“Think I can fake an epileptic seizure and get out of this?” Steve asks on the way home.

“You’re not epileptic,” you say.

“That’s why I said ‘fake’ it,” Steve says with a scoff. 

“They’d find a way to make you come anyway,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. 

The party is just as horrible as you and your older brother imagined it would be. You’re forced into an itchy blue dress and Steve looks like he’s about two seconds away from ripping his tie off. The stuffy guests walk around with their noses in the air, only deigning to talk to those they deem successful enough. You want to throw yourself out of one of the windows as you see your parents approaching you with an older couple that they’ll probably expect you to remember from somewhere. 

“Well, look at you,” the older man says. “All grown up.” The way he says it makes a shiver go down your spine. 

“You must have all the boys chasing after you,” his wife says with a wink. It’s like they’re competing to see who can make you the most uncomfortable. Before you can open your mouth to speak, your mom jumps in.

“Oh, we have high hopes for her,” she says with a chuckle. “Going to go to Yale or Stanford and find her an Ivy League man to settle down with.”

And when exactly did we decide this? you think to yourself. 

“Someone well-to-do,” your father adds. “A senator’s son, maybe. Who knows? We could be raising a future First Lady here.”

You want to gag. Steve must sense your temper rising, because he rests a hand on your shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze. 

“Remember us when you’re famous,” the older man says. 

I don’t even remember you right now. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but your dad changes the subject to something about profit reports. 

Steve drives the two of you home before your parents, the two of them insisting they were going to stick around a little longer. The minute you get into your room, you throw your heels towards your closet. Your brother hears you banging around and comes to stand in your doorway, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest. He’s taken his tie off and undone the first few buttons of his white button up shirt. 

“What’s the matter, First Lady? Didn’t like getting signed up for an arranged marriage?”

You whirl on him, practically shoving a finger in his face. “Do not call me that. I am not some prized pig they can sell at the fair.”

“Technically, I think the pigs are judged at the fair, not sold.”

Groaning, you rub your hands down your face. 

“I’m running away,” you say, throwing your hands in the air. “I’m joining the circus. Or a motorcycle gang. Anything! As long as it’s not here.”

“Oh, relax,” Steve says. “When you go off to college you can date whoever you want. They’ll never know.”

“Why do I have to wait until I go off to college?” you demand. “Why can’t I date whoever I want right now?”

“Do you want to date someone right now?” Steve asks, furrowing his brows.

“That’s not the point,” you say, but you feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Holy shit, you do,” Steve says with a huff of laughter. He pushes himself off the doorframe. “Who is it?”

“Goodnight, Steve.” You shove him out of your doorway before slamming and locking your bedroom door. 

“The fuck did you say, Freak?”

Jason Carver’s voice grates on your nerves as you make your way down the hall. Unfortunately, there’s only one person the jock douche would be calling that name and it has you seeing red. You were still steamed from your parents’ comments last night, and this is just going to push you over the top.

“Who, me?” 

You walk into the cafeteria to see Eddie grinning at the basketball playing asshole.

“You’re the only freak here,” Jason says.

Your white cheer sneakers squeak to a stop on the linoleum floor, and you drop your bag down by your feet. The clatter has Jason’s gaze shifting to you. Most of the cafeteria’s attention shifts to you, actually. But you don’t notice as you stalk up to the bully. Normally, you might say something snarky to him, but you’re done with words. All your pent up frustration is taken out on Jason’s chin as you serve him a right hook. He stumbles back a few steps and there are gasps around the cafeteria. Your hand is throbbing, but the pain is nothing compared to the satisfaction you feel at shutting that jerk up. The small smear of blood above his upper lip has you smirking.

“Miss Harrington!”

With a groan, your satisfaction wanes when you see Principal Higgins glaring at you. His glasses are perched low on his nose and his hands are high on his hips.

“My office. Now.”

Thankfully, Principal Higgins’s secretary is kind enough to give you some ice to put on your knuckles. Some staffing emergency took precedence, so you’re stuck sitting on a bench outside his office while he deals. 

“You’ve got some arm.”

The voice that you’d know anywhere sounds from above you and your neck cracks from how quickly you look up. Eddie stands there with his hands in his pockets, a sheepish smile on his lips. 

“Oh. T-Thanks,” you say. 

Eddie takes a seat next to you on the bench. He yanks a black bandana out of his back pocket and smooths it out across his lap before folding it lengthwise. 

“May I?” he asks, gesturing to the ice you’re holding against your hand. 

“Sure.” You extend your injured hand out, and Eddie secures the ice against your knuckles with the bandana, then ties it tight enough to keep everything in place.

“How’s that?” he asks. 

“Better. Thank you.” You find it hard to meet his eyes, so you keep your focus on your hand as you bring it back into your lap. 

“So,” Eddie says, turning himself sideways on the bench and making himself comfortable. “What made you punch ol’ Carver? I mean, I know we all want to do it, but no one’s been quite so brave. Not until you, that is. And from a cheerleader? One of his own?”

“I’m not one of his own,” you say, looking up at him. But Eddie has a playful smirk on his lips.

“Nah, I know you’re not. I’m just teasing you. But what did want to make you do that? Couldn’t have been all on my account.”

“Why not?” you ask with a frown.

Eddie lets out a chuckle and shakes his head. “Listen, Harrington. I don’t see you as someone who goes around punching people for the hell of it. You’re one of the nicest people in this hell hole of a town. The jackass must’ve done something to deserve it.”

“He did,” you say. “He called you a freak.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he says, leaning in towards you with a conspiratorial whisper. “But most people do.”

“Well, they shouldn’t,” you say with a frown. “You’re not. And I hate how Jason always does it in front of a crowd. It’s like he needs to put you down in front of others to prove he’s this king or whatever. So, someone needed to knock him off his throne in front of people, too.”

“My knight in shining cheer skirt,” Eddie teases with a wink. He’s shocked when your face goes red and you’re unable to look him in the eye. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” you say, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. The heat in your face is getting worse by the second and you feel it’s only a matter of time before you crack. 

“You sure? I didn’t make you uncomfortable?”

God, that’s the last thing Eddie could ever make you feel. You immediately shake your head, refusing to let him think those thoughts even for a moment. 

“No, no, not at all. I’m sorry, I guess I’m just an…awkward person,” you say with a wince. 

“Maybe I like awkward,” Eddie says, gently kicking his black boot against your white sneaker. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, and they have plenty of room to buzz about, seeing as you hadn’t gotten to eat your lunch.

“Maybe I like awkward, too,” you say softly. 

Eddie smirks. “Oh, then you must adore me, Harrington.”

“Maybe I do,” you say with a shrug, forcing yourself to maintain eye contact with him. 

“Well, maybe I like sweet, pretty cheerleaders who can sucker punch like Bruce Lee and talk to me about horror movies.”

Your mind stopped listening after Eddie called you “pretty” though. Did he really think that? Or was he just saying it to be nice? 

“Hmm,” you muse. “Guess I should send Hailey Hudson from the team your way to talk about Halloween then, huh?”

Eddie chuckles and the same sensation as when you made him laugh before fills your body. 

“Nightmare on Elm Street is more my cup of tea,” Eddie says. “Plus, talking to any other cheerleader bedsides you doesn’t seem very appealing to me.”

“Miss Harrington,” Principal Higgins says, sticking his head out of his office. “You can come in now.” He steps back inside, and you release a sigh. Of course talking to Eddie would have to come to an end eventually, but why now?

“Well,” you say, standing up from the bench. “Guess it’s time to hear my sentence.”

“Maybe if you get released early for good behavior, we could grab pizza sometime?” Eddie looks nervous, and that alone makes you want to laugh. Why on earth would he be nervous asking if you wanted to hang out? 

“That sounds great,” you say, the euphoric smile unable to stay off your face no matter how hard you try. 

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, seeming shocked. 

“Why do you sound surprised?” you ask with a giggle. Taking courage from the fact that he seems to be getting nervous around you as well, you decide to be a little bolder. “I don’t just throw punches for anyone, you know.”

The most endearing smile grows on Eddie’s face, and he places one of his ring-clad hands over his heart. 

“I am very honored to have the most beautiful girl in school defending my honor.” He outstretches his hand out to you as you begin to walk backwards towards the principal’s office. “I’ll wait for you.” 

You can’t help but giggle. “I’ll have my parole officer contact you.”

“Should be easy since I’m in the phone book.”

“I’ll make sure to let her know. Bye, Munson.”

“See you later, Harrington.” He gives you one last smile before you step into the office.

The worst part isn’t the detention you were given or that you have to apologize to Carver. It’s that you’re told to call your parents to come and get you. Apparently, the school nurse is out for the day, and they can’t have you staying in school with a potentially injured hand. It hardly even hurts anymore, but you’re not going to let them know that. Let them think that you’ll be headed to the hospital for all you care. 

When you pick up the phone from the desk, your finger hovers over the numbers. Principal Higgins is sitting right there, making sure you’re going to tell your parents exactly why you need to be picked up. At the last second though, you dial a different number. 

“Thank you for calling Family Video, this is Steve. How can I help you?”

“Uh, hi, Dad,” you say, gripping at the receiver pressed against your ear. 

“Dad?” you hear Steve ask in confusion. “This is—”

“I-I know,” you say. “I’m just calling, Dad, because I need you to pick me up from school. I’m in Principal Higgins’ office. 

You can tell Steve understands now by the sigh that comes across the line. “What did you do?”

“Well, my hand is injured, and the nurse isn’t on duty today, so they don’t want me staying at school while I’m hurt and no one can check it out.”

“Tell him why it’s injured,” Principal Higgins says.

“Yes, tell me,” Steve echoes, obviously being able to hear his former principal’s words.

“I, um, I punched Jason Carver,” you say.

“You did what?!” Steve all but screams.

“He called Eddie Munson a freak in front of the whole cafeteria.” You say this piece looking Higgins dead in the eye. Are you going to do anything about that? you want to ask. “So, I punched Carver to shut him up.”

“Honestly, I’m impressed,” Steve says. 

“Thanks. So, uh, can you come get me?”

“My shift is over in ten minutes,” Steve says. “I’ll head there as soon as I get out of here.”

“Thanks, St—uh, Dad. I’ll see you soon.” You hang up the phone and Principal Higgins stares at you over the rims of his glasses.

“He on his way?” he asks.

“He’ll be here soon.”

“I can’t believe you punched Jason Carver,” Steve says, shaking his head in amusement as he drives you home. 

“He’s an asshole,” you defend with a shrug. 

“Over Munson, though?” Steve asks incredulously. “Seriously? Couldn’t have picked another hill to die on?”

“Nope,” you say through gritted teeth. Crossing your arms over your chest, you stare out the passenger window. 

“Why Munson, though, I—” Steve cuts himself off with a groan and shakes his head. “Oh, no. Please tell me I’m wrong.” 

“I’d love to,” you reply. “But I need to know what you’re wrong about first.”

“Munson isn’t the guy you want to date, is he?” Steve asks nervously.

Your face gets hot for what feels like the millionth time in the past few days. But that’s all the confirmation your brother needs, because he’s letting out a groan that makes it sound like he’s in agony.

“You really have a thing for the Freak?”

“I have one good fist left,” you say. “Want me to use it on you?”

“I’ll tell Mom and Dad about your detention then,” Steve says with a shrug.

“Then I’d tell them about you moving the dirty magazines from beneath your bed into the air vent,” you counter.

“How do you even know about that?” Steve asks, shooting you a glare before looking back at the road. 

“Your room and mine share the same vent and I can hear the pages rustling when the air is on.”

“You’re the worst,” Steve grumbles. 

“You also have no room to complain with some of the trash you’ve dated,” you point out. 

“Are you and Munson…a thing?” Steve asks, sounding like he hates every syllable of the question.

“No,” you tell him. “But he asked me to go get pizza with him. So, maybe soon.”

“And that will make you happy?” your brother asks.

A smile comes to your face just thinking about it. “It would.”

Steve nods his head and lets out a deep breath as if he’s resigning himself to the fact that you have feelings for Eddie. 

“Okay, but you’re telling Mom and Dad.”

[corrodedseraphine]

hellfire heart | one shot

this amazing edit of Eddie which i used here was made by wonderful @sofiiel

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

story based on a request by a lovely anon: could i request rockstar eddie who is a bit of an asshole, loves a drink etc? maybe something angsty! angst with half happy ending I guess?, established relationship, breaking up, modern!AU

4 310 words

the one shot is also avaliable on ao3

I was going to write this much later, but life sucks and my mood today is some kind of unfunny joke, so this request was the perfect opportunity to unload all my negative emotions in this angsty work!

Dear anon, thank you very much for your request, I hope you will not be disappointed. (I wrote the song myself, it's okay if you don't like this, you can pretend it is any other song yopu like!)

eddie munson masterlist | general masterlist

"I thought that when you come to Hawkins for a break we would organize a little campaign for the boys? They miss you so much." You lay cuddled up against Eddie's chest, who was browsing something on his phone.

"Yeah, about that." he said, turning toward you for the first time in twenty minutes. "I'm not coming to Hawkins."

"What?" you rose quickly. What did he mean he wasn't coming back? The breaks between tours were the only longer time you could spend together. Besides, you saw each other once a month when you visited him on tour.

"Babe, there are so many better things than playing some stupid game, so many parties we can go to, so many crazy things we can do." he replied, sitting down on the bed. "Being stuck for couple of months in Hawkins is not fun."

"But what about the kids? What about Wayne? Don't you miss them?"

"I miss them, but I guess if I don't come once, nothing bad will happen, right?"

"Since when is D&D just a stupid game to you?" you asked. Never in your life would you have said you would hear those words from his mouth.

"Honey, look at me, I am not that Eddie anymore. I am not a loser or freak, I am a fucking rockstar. People love me, I have fans all over the world I have everything I ever wanted. I am better, my life is better now." he said grabbing your hands. "Now I'm going to go to rehearsal, later I'll come back and we'll have dinner together, okay?"

"Yeah, sure, have fun." you replied weakly. Eddie quickly smacked you on the lips and left the apartment.

Being left alone with your thoughts was not good, as those thoughts began to wander into darker and darker corners of your brain. You loved Eddie and were happy like no one else that his dreams were coming true however, you slowly stopped liking the kind of man he was becoming. What didn't escape your attention was his sense of superiority. Suddenly everyone who wasn't recognized and famous, those who didn't participate in crazy parties whose motto was sex drugs and rock and roll, were suddenly worse. More and more, you could see the arrogance in him. At the beginning of his fame, he looked forward to visits home. He loved the hours spent campaigning, the fishing trips with Wayne, or the pleasant evenings at campfires where he played guitar and the rest of your little crazy family was singing. He kept saying that these were his favorite moments. What happened that suddenly they were no longer like that?

Eddie didn't show up for dinner. After three hours of waiting, you extinguished the candles you had lit, put the already cold food in the refrigerator, and took the wine that was supposed to be for both of you to the couch and poured it into a glass. You weren't even surprised that he didn't come back on time as he promised. Lately he had less and less time for you. Day by day there were fewer and fewer calls and messages, fewer and fewer I miss yous and I love yous, instead more and more arguments and misunderstandings. There were more and more drunken pictures of him that you saw on the Internet, more and more rumors about secret "friends" of Corroded Coffin members. At every turn whenever you went on any social media you were bombarded with theories that made you sick. Not wanting to bury yourself in this hole even more, you put your phone down on the coffee table and turned on the movie to occupy your thoughts, but somewhere in the middle of it you fell asleep.

You were awakened by Eddie's loud comeback and quiet curses from his mouth. You turned on the lamp that stood by the couch and looked at him sleepily. He was barely standing on his feet, you knew immediately that he was drunk, you couldn't stop the thought that he might have been under the influence of something else.

"Where were you?" you asked quietly, having neither the desire nor the strength to argue.

"At the re-rehsal." He replied trying to look sober. His tounge wasn't able to form any clear words.

"And later?"

"I hav' n'idea what you talkin'bout." he mumbled under his breath, you could barely understand what he was saying. He shakily walked toward the bedroom.

"Eddie you're drunk."

"'not."

"Why are you lying? Couldn't you at least write that you'll come back later?"

You received no answer. Without even trying to undress, he just threw the phone on the bedside table and landed on the soft mattress immediately falling asleep.

With a burden on your heart, you got up from the couch and, taking a bottle of water with you, because you knew he would need it in the morning, went to the bedroom to lie down next to him. The room smelled of alcohol and cigarettes. You watched his body move with every breath, wondering what happened to the boy you knew like the back of your hand. The boy who mocked everyone who devoted their lives solely to alcohol and parties. A boy who wanted more than just fame and money, who always cared about his loved ones and wouldn't even think of pushing them away in favor of other, "more famous" friends.

It hurt you what was happening to him, it hurt you that you couldn't do anything about it, because whenever you tried to talk to him on the subject everything ended in one big fight. It scared you how much you didn't like his new persona. Even scarier was the thought that this change was permanent.

You were awakened by the vibration of his phone. Wiping your sleepy face with your hand, you took it to turn it off, but you noticed a text message on the screen from an unknown number.

unknown: let me know if you want more ;)

You sharply inhaled the air feeling like your heart was about to jump out of your cage. You knew you shouldn't do this however it was stronger than you. You unlocked your phone and went into the messages with the unnamed number.

Under the message sent above was a picture of a pack of cigarettes. Did he want more cigarettes? You were surprised because after everything he went through in the Upside Down he promised you he would stop smoking. Biting your lower lip nervously, you started scrolling up. There weren't a lot of messages, the earliest one was sent a few hours ago, half an hour before Eddie got home. However, one detailed message from him was enough to make your vision begin to blur.

unknown: how can I return the favor?

eddie: send nudes eddie: just kidding

As if burned, you threw the phone straight at him. He woke up with a growl. Little did he know, though, that a hangover would be the least of his worries. You quickly got out of bed and started getting dressed.

"What's goin on?" he asked seeing your condition

"What's goin on?" you asked pointing your finger at the phone. He frowned and looked at the tiny screen and then realized what was the reason for your behavior. "Who is she?"

"Chrissy's friend." he replied as if nothing had happened.

"And what does she have to repay you for?" Your voice slowly broke.

"After the party she needed a ride so I ordered a cab and we drove her and then I came back here. I don't see what the problem is."

"You really don't see what the problem is? Maybe in what you wrote back to her!"

"It was just a joke don't be dramatic!" he replied sitting down on the bed.

You couldn't believe it. He really thought that writing such things to other girls was okay? Even if it was just a joke, you were not going to accept it. Although you've always known that Eddie can laugh at anything, jokes also had their limits, and this was definitely overstepping them.

"You can't be serious now." you said looking straight at his tired face.

"It was just a joke." he repeated through his teeth. "It's not my fault you don't get them."

The old Eddie would never do something like that to you. The old Eddie, when Steve made jokes like that with other girls was the first to point it out to him and say how pathetic his behavior was. Your old Eddie at least would have let you know yesterday that he would be late and wouldn't be back for dinner.

"I don't care if it was a joke Eddie. I don't give a shit it was a joke!" you raised your voice. Everything you had kept under lock and key for the past months was just being released from you. "How would you feel if I wrote to any of your friends like that?"

An expression of realization flashed across his face, but after a moment it was again replaced by irritation. "After all, she didn't send me any, at least she knows it was a fucking joke, not like you!"

"You wouldn't even admit to me if she had sent one! You could have flirted with each other all the way back and you still wouldn't have told me about it!"

"Maybe we were!" he yelled. "Just- Can you just shut up, my head is pounding." He said hiding his face in his hands. "Get the stick out of your ass, because lately you've been doing nothing but whining."

"No. I'm sick of it Eddie. I'm sick of the person you've become." Shocked, he immediately raised his head. His big puppy eyes found yours however, this time you didn't give in. What was going on between the two of you was not good and it was time to explain. It was time for brutal honesty. "You have changed. You have become someone you would have been disgusted with just two years ago."

"What are you talking about?"

"About you, Eddie! Now all that matters to you is alcohol and these stupid parties. I don't know if you remember, but during one of your speeches at the table in high school you emphasized how much you despise such people!"

"I don't know if it gets to you, but we're not in high school anymore." he scoffed.

"What happened to you? What happened to Eddie, who wrote songs about fighting knights and dragons? Who wrote beautiful love ballads? Whose music had a message? Your last album is all empty words about sex, drugs and how there is nothing meaningful in life! I can understand to devote a few songs to that, but not a whole damn album!" You knew that criticizing his music would be a blow to a sensitive spot, but what was your one blow compared to his treating you like a punching bag? "Where is Eddie who couldn't wait for the campaign and was excited to wonder if Dustin would find an ulterior motive in it? Where is the Eddie who could talk to Will for hours about his role as DM? Where is the Eddie who at every possible opportunity went back to Hawkins to spend some time with his Uncle? Where the hell is the Eddie who didn't choose getting drunk over our dinners together? Where is the Eddie who was always looking for ways to be close to me?!"

"Y/n…" he tried to interrupt you however it was too late. You sped away breaking all the brakes along the way.

"Where is Eddie, who always answered my I love yous? Because the one in front of me now doesn't even want to look at me anymore." You were crying, struggling with breathing out the words. "For the past few months, every time I come you have a problem with kissing me. If I didn't hug you myself you wouldn't do it. You don't answer my messages, you don't answer my calls, when was the last time you told me you loved me?"

"Maybe I wouldn't have stopped doing that if you hadn't criticized me all the time!" he shouted avoiding your last question. He knew the answer would not be acceptable.

"And in what should I support you?! In getting drunk to the point of unconsciousness? Asking for nudes from other girls?! Do you even have any idea how much it hurts me? You don't tell me anything! You keep everything a secret, your nights out, your new friends, you never want to talk about it! How do I know what the hell you are doing there?! I'm supposed to support you in this so that later I can see pictures everywhere from clubs of you having a great time with your fans who are pushing themselves straight into your lap and you don't even try to stop them?!"

"You're just jealous! You're pathetically jealous because you can't accept that my life is so much better now and I don't need you in it at all!"

Suddenly you had nothing more to add. Everything had become clear. Clearer than you had imagined.

It took a while for him to realize what he had said, his words broke the heart not only for you but also for him, because he knew that this was the moment when he would lose you.

"Baby, no. Shit, I am so sorry-" he approached you quickly grabbing your hand but you immediately yanked it away. "Sweetheart, please, that's not what I meant. You know I love you, I'm sorry I've been acting like this lately, please, I'll change, I promise." he panicked. It intensified when he didn't get any response from you. You walked around the room collecting your belongings, which you threw into a suitcase occasionally wiping away tears. Despite his begging and following you around like a lost puppy dog you never spoke a word to him again. Even when you left slamming the door.

For the first few weeks it didn't get to him. He completely lost himself in the party vortex forgetting all God's world "enjoying" his freedom. Waking up in places he didn't know next to people he didn't remember with a massive headache, lack of energy and nausea. This was his new daily life. A daily life that was wearing him down. The Internet was buzzing with news, stories and footage of him getting into fights with other people, or of Gareth and Jeff or Simon having to carry him out of clubs and bars because he was so drunk he couldn't do it on his own strength.

Locked in a vicious cycle, he was starting to suffocate. Suddenly all the things he wanted so much but couldn't do when he was with you were starting to push him away. Suddenly all the quickies with people whose name he didn't even know began to disgust him. The mere mention of any alcohol made him sick. Despite the fact that there were still plenty of people around him giving him their full attention, he felt lonely. Queues of groupies lining up for the tour bus, the forbidden fruit that tempted so much turned out to be nothing.

Lying alone in bed, he stared at the ceiling feeling cold. The darkness that surrounded him consumed his entire soul. Hearing the vibration of the phone he quickly grabbed it hoping it was a message from you, but it wasn't. Suddenly Eddie felt a burning feeling in his eyes that he hadn't felt in a long time. He touched his tear-wet cheeks in disbelief. He couldn't remember the last time he cried, but it must have been a very long time ago. Feeling despair spreading throughout his body, he decided to grab a lifeline and called the person he could always count on in such situations. The person who never refused to help him and who always managed to chase away his demons. Unfortunately, this person did not answer this time, leaving him alone. The person he shouted right in her face that he didn't need her in his life. Sadly, he needed her more than he thought, and loved her even more, but somewhere in his crazy journey, greedy for fame, he forgot all about it leaving him completely alone. He thought about the moment you separated, thought about everything you told him then, thought about how right you were. The longer he thought about it, the more disgusted he became with the person he had become. You were so damn right. He felt like a blinded fool. In fact, that's exactly what he was. The Eddie you loved got lost in the maze of celebrity and money, and in order to survive there he had to adapt to the new environment by creating a completely new version of himself. A version he wasn't proud of.

When he finally calmed down and wiped away his last tears he felt a surge of motivation. He was determined to find the old Eddie and bring him back.

Everyone immediately noticed the change. When rock star, social spirit, party monster Eddie Munson locked himself inside four walls cutting himself off from everything people were shocked. The real reason was known only to the members of Corroded Coffin, who forced him to talk. When he finally told them everything they showed him great support and helped him regain his former self. It was not an easy and quick process, but after a few months he managed to change tracks. Focusing mainly on writing new songs, after the concerts he always returned to the hotel, where he occupied his thoughts with planning D&D campaigns to which he also wanted to return. It turned out that escaping into the fantasy world was still great medicine for his tortured soul. He spent a great deal of time talking to Wayne. The old man was initially very surprised, but also happy to hear his nephew more often now. At his and Corroded Coffin's manager's urging, he also tried visits to a psychologist, which helped him not only find balance in his new life but also helped him deal with nightmares from the past.

The last destination on the tour was Indianapolis. Being so close to home, Eddie sent you all VIP entrance tickets. With a tightness in his heart, he watched as Max, Lucas, Dustin, Mike, El, Erica and Will lined up right at the barriers in front of the stage. Right behind them walked Steve and Robin, and at the very end you. After such a long time of no contact with you, he felt like crying at your sight. He didn't believe you would come, he thought you hated him and nothing would convince you to be here today. And yet there you were. Fate was giving him a chance and he wasn't going to let it pass.

The concert went well, to everyone's surprise, they didn't play a single song from the new album. They relied mainly on those that were written back in Gareth's garage in the days when the world had no idea who Corroded Coffin was. Some people, were not happy about this, but the vast majority sang the songs along with them as much as they had breath. At the very end of the performance, Eddie approached the microphone putting his finger to his lips, thus asking for silence.

"Before we finish, I'd like to announce something." he said looking around. "I'm damn grateful for each and every one of you here, if it weren't for you, we would never have gotten this far, and I will never be able to repay you for that." The crowd went wild, everyone started shouting and applauding, and Eddie smiled and once again asked for silence. "Unfortunately, even on the most beautiful journey one can get lost. And I got lost very badly, and I think that if someone hadn't shouted it in my face a few months ago I would never have found my way back." He grunted. He tried to find you in the crowd, but the headlights blinded him and he couldn't. You, however, saw him. You saw him very well, for the first time in a long time you saw Eddie. The real one. "But I found it. This road is not one of the easiest, so it hurts my heart to tell you that this is the last Corroded Coffin concert this year. It will be a few months before we start working on the new album and hit the road again, and I hope that at least some of you have the boundless patience to welcome us back in time as warmly as you bid us farewell today." he chuckled, receiving thunderous applause anew. "But before we say a final goodbye for today we have a surprise for you."

Unfamiliar chords rang out from the speakers as everyone realized it was a new song, and people started jumping and shouting with excitement.

Cold ground as your deathbed The last thing you hear is scream Heart-wrecking cry of a little ship The little ship is begging Praying to the God above for a miracle You don't know which one But one of them have heard the prayer And you are breathing again

You are back but something is wrong You are back but something is missing Your hands are cold Your heart is colder

Then you meet her Like a ray of sunshine cutting through the clouds Her touch is soft Her voice is calm But her heart Her heart was forged in the abyss of hell In the fire hottest than the Sun She's got a hellfire heart

You can try to avoid it You can try to escape But when she touches you she leaves burning marks She will break your ribs She will pull the lungs out of your chest She will find a way to your heart And you will let her

Be careful you blind fool Because once you lose her You feel like death is taking you back Be careful you stupid creature Because once you stop appreciating what you've got You'll end up alone Without the littlest spark to keep you warm You will freeze to death in the middle of a fire

When you meet her Like a ray of sunshine cutting through the clouds Her touch is soft Her voice is calm But her heart Her heart was forged in the abyss of hell In the fire hottest than the Sun She's got a hellfire heart

After the concert officially ended, the whole group went backstage. Seeing the excitement of everyone except you, Eddie guessed that you didn't tell anyone about what happened between you. When he found the right moment he pulled you aside and locked the two of you in a fitting room. Without a word you stared at each other waiting for someone to finally make the first move. Despite his fear, he knew he had to be the one to make it.

"Thank you for coming." he said quietly taking a step closer to you, but you took that one step back. "I know I fucked everything up, I know that some stupid song won't change anything, I know you have the right to hate me. I've been a complete asshole, everything at its worst, I've treated you in a terrible way, and to tell you the truth I don't even deserve to have you standing here with me…" he once again tried to approach you. This time you did not move away. "I love you, I haven't stopped loving you and you need to know that. I know I didn't show it to you like I should have, I know you didn't feel it and you had the right to doubt it. I want you to know that I have changed. At least I'm trying to do that, I'm in therapy and it's said to be having an effect. Who would have thought, huh?"

"Your apology won't make me forget all this Eddie." you said.

"I know, and I don't expect you to forget. All I'm asking you for is a chance, to show that I've changed. I may never be able to get back the old Eddie you fell in love with, but I can assure you that the Eddie you hated is definitely not coming back. In front of you stands a brand new Eddie, hopefully better than the previous ones."

"I can forgive you, but that doesn't mean it will stop hurting." The tears in your eyes were breaking his heart. Old Eddie would have killed him for how much pain he caused you. "Even if I forgive you it doesn't mean I'll give us a second chance Eddie. I don't know if I'll be able to."

"I know, but I beg you to try to get to know me again. Maybe someday you'll be able to fall in love with me all over again." he grabbed your hand. Large and warm, in which you could easily hide your own. Whose touch used to be home to you.

"I forgive you." you whispered. Hearing those words, he couldn't stop the smile that pressed on his lips. That was enough. From that moment on, he knew he would do anything to fix the mistakes of the past.

"Can I hug you?" he asked shyly, and you only nodded your head. Holding you in his arms, he felt that his life was becoming complete again.

Your path was uncertain, you had no idea how it would end, and neither did he. However, the end was far away, and for now you had to focus on the beginning.

taglist: @i-me-mine @phantypurple @tlclick73

[hippolotamus]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @alyxmastershipper @spotsandsocks @swiftiediaz. Thank you lovelies

Two things this evening

9-1-1 - The Letters (Buddie)

A collection of letters written by Evan Buckley in the years following his separation from Eddie Diaz. Brackets and all (for now).

To the finder of this letter,

My name is Evan Buckley. At present, I reside at [address] in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Also in residence are my wife, Lucy, and our two dogs, [name] and [name]. I would never claim to live here, for that requires living. And my heart hasn’t beat properly in ages.

I never wished to revisit these moments, nor transcribe them. However, it is at Lucy’s insistence that I am reluctantly doing so. She has this notion that it will help quell the ache, and perhaps ease the nightmares. Both the result of losing my beloved, the other half of my heart and soul. 

It is of little consequence to you as the reader, I suppose, but I still feel it necessary to explain the arrangement Lucy and I have agreed upon. The conditions we choose to live with because of the circumstances we could not decide for ourselves. 

After my father’s death I was forced to return home. To take my place as head of the household to provide for my mother, and sister, Maddie. I came to protect her most of all, only to discover I had lost her anyway. She only ever wished to see me happy. In pursuit of this, she married an abominable human being who shall not be named here. If I do nothing else with my remaining time on earth, it shall be to see to it his name is lost to history. 

Regarding the matter of Lucy. We met shortly after my return, during an outing with my mother. It was a festival in the park with musicians and acrobats. The sort of thing where young men court young ladies, and mothers bring their unmarried children to parade them about. Clearly I was the latter. Of every lady Mother attempted to force me to become smitten by (or as she later put it, be tolerant of) I was most intrigued by the fair-haired woman operating the flower cart. We did not speak that day, not in words, only in exchanged glances. For reasons I did not yet know, I already understood she would be vital for me and I for her. 

It would be three more weeks, and dozens more disappointed potential wives, before we held a formal conversation. Mother had, of course, observed the shared looks I was attempting to hide less and less. She voiced her distaste for the situation immediately, informing me I must focus my efforts on finding a wife, despite my insistence that I did not see the purpose. Under the ruse of purchasing a bloom for the latest disappointment-to-be, I paid a visit to Lucy’s cart. It was perhaps not the most well thought out plan, but it was the one I needed most to work. 

I stated my name and title, declared I had no debts nor lovers or gambling afflictions and, if she could declare the same, I wished to marry her. Lucy promptly rejected my offer, telling me to return when I was a paying customer and not a deceptive suitor.

Schitt's Creek - Ch 2 of I know all your secrets

David paces the length of the sitting room, wired and anxious. The penthouse, measuring however many thousands of square feet, is still too small. He’s already shed his jacket, hanging it carefully in the walk-in closet. He’s not a monster, after all. But it does little to ease the tension that continues building under his skin, making him spark with need. Eager to get his hands on Patrick again.

Patrick’s ragged breathing echoes in his mind, the way he writhed under David’s touch, so desperate for release he was practically begging. 

David won’t be alone for long. Patrick has always come, will always. David knows this, and it terrifies him. Yet, with every minute that passes, every errant sound that makes him turn toward the door, his doubts grow louder. 

Agent Brewer was supposed to be a personal conquest, a challenge. A one time experience. There was no room for a ‘next time’. David should have known better. From the first time he noticed Patrick in Monsanto he wanted him. He took one look at the cocky, competent sonofabitch – wearing his stupid midrange denim and braided belt – and wanted to take him apart. To ruin him. 

He finally got his chance at their third encounter in Vienna. There was no bed, not so much as a fancy, expensive chaise lounge. Only the two of them, hidden in the shadows of Neptune’s Fountain. Not how David envisioned it, but he wouldn’t exactly call getting buttoned-up Agent Brewer off against ancient architecture a loss. Especially not when he sought David out the following evening and let himself be reduced to a whimpering mess, barely capable of stringing two syllables together.

It's late, but I'll tag: @shortsighted-owl @elvensorceress @stereopticons @blackandwhiteandrose @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @fatedbuddie @buddierights @alysiswriting @apothecarose @rmd-writes @vanillahigh00 @jesuisici33 and my love @lizzie-bennetdarcy

[sergeantbuckybarnes]

girls like you // eddie munson

Summary: You'd had enough of Jason Carver's insults to your boyfriend and decide to take matters into your own hands.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word count: 725

Warnings: none

A/N: As always, remember English is not my first language. Also, this hasn’t been proofread, so I apologize for any grammatical error it might have.

main masterlist

You got yourself  bruised knuckles and three days of suspension but it was all worth it. Nothing compares to the satisfaction you felt when you punched Jason Carver's smug face and wiped the smirk off of his face.

The prick asked for it. Taunting you, bad mouthing your boyfriend. You weren't a violent person; on the contrary, if you asked anyone they would say you were “a being of light” , always kind and nice to others, and with a sweet smile on your face. Perhaps this is why Director Higgins was taken aback when you were accused of starting a fight in gym class.

“When did you stand so low to date Munson, Y/N? Didn’t know you were into fucking the devil,” He laughed, and the rest of his friends did it too. It almost seemed like they had it rehearsed.

"When did you become an idiot, Carver? Oh yeah. You've always been one!" You lunged at him, hand fisted and ready.

 You were way past the satanic cult “joke”. Eddie didn’t seem to mind, or if he did care, he didn’t show it. 

When the bell rang, signaling the end of the classes for the day, you made your way to your boyfriend. Eddie was leaning against his van. He had his arms crossed across his chest. He was waiting for you as he did every day. 

You hadn't seen him since lunch; you usually sat with him and the other Hellfire Club members, though you didn't really intervene in the conversation when they started talking about D&D; you knew nothing about the game. Eddie tried to teach you how to play, and you accepted because you liked how eager he looked and how much he liked the idea of you being a part of his club. And although you didn’t want to disappoint him, you eventually gave up.

“Hey, baby,” Eddie said, opening his arms and encircling you in a tight hug. Your nostrils were filled with the aroma of weed. “I heard you were up to no good today.”

You rolled your eyes, detaching from him. “He deserved it.”

Your boyfriend raised his hands in response to your defending tone. “I’m not saying he didn’t. Kinda wish I was there to see it, though.”

“Don't worry, you'll be staring at Carver's broken nose for a while.”

Eddie’s smile faded from his face, and he appeared more serious now. “How bad?“

Eddie appreciated you going out of your way to defend him, but he knew you weren't going to get away with it. And the last thing he wanted was you getting into trouble because of him. 

“Three days of suspension, and this,” you showed him your bruised knuckles. “When you saw Eddie's worried expression, you jokingly said, "Asshole has a hard face." He took your bruised hand in his, gently caressing your knuckles and kissing them with a feather kiss.“It’s just superficial.”

“Higgins also called my mom, so I’m pretty sure I’m grounded.” 

“She’s gonna like me even less now.” 

Since the first time you brought Eddie home, your mother has never tried to hide her dislike for your boyfriend. She made the dinner awkward and uncomfortable. Subtly, she insulted Eddie whenever she could. You apologized profusely to your boyfriend, but Eddie dismissed it, saying that everything was fine and that you didn't have to apologize for your mother's actions.

In that moment, you fell in love with him even more. He was such a wonderful person, and he didn’t deserve the way people treated him and the reputation this shitty town gave him. 

“You can still sneak in tonight. You know my window is always open for you.” You smiled, and it caused a smile to break on Eddie’s face too.

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let my girl alone while she’s injured?”

You shook your head as you laughed at his antics. You grabbed the leaps of his leather jacket and dragged him to you. His hand moved quickly to your waist. Eddie's warm, soft lips send shivers down your spine every time. You'd swear no one had ever kissed you like that before. Since your first kiss, every kiss has been laced with such passion, eagerness, and care. You love kissing Eddie. And you don’t intend to stop doing it anytime soon.

[thedanoriddler]

could I request some headcanons about how Ed would be different and more confident around his s/o when he's in the Riddler costume? maybe some NSFW headcanons as well?

Oof yes!

I hope you don’t mind, I kind of took the “NS/FW” part of the ask and ran with it 👀

There wasn’t a specified gender so this ended up leaning towards AFAB!reader, I’m sorry if that ruins it 😭

Warning(s): 18+ only because SMUT GALORE! Discussion of kinky shit ahead but nothing that hardcore, literally just talking about tape/being tied up/teased.

❔Riddler x Reader Headcanons (incl. sexy stuff) 💚

Eddie’s mask allows him to be his true self completely - so of course you get to be treated to seeing him in Riddler costume in person.

It’s a huge step for the both of you: Eddie wants to trust you with this knowledge of the fact he’s the Riddler, he wants you to see his true self - and for you, you’re touched that you get to see Eddie like this, in all his glory as The Riddler, especially when he tells you that this is his true self

He’s so much more confident in his Riddler costume and mask, and you can tell immediately: he stands taller, carries himself differently, his voice goes a little deeper, clearly more comfortable as Riddler and less self conscious about literally everything

You know it’s still him, your Eddie - for one, you’re thrilled that he wears his glasses over the mask, you love his glasses a lot and can’t imagine your Eddie without his glasses. But this is Eddie as his completely true self, uninhibited by social conventions or doubt or anything else, and you love it - you love him.

It doesn’t take long for you to find out that the more confident side of him when he’s in his Riddler outfit extends to all areas of life - especially the bedroom side of things

You can’t kiss him with the mask on but you’re running a hand over his green coat, over the material of the mask, and biting your lip. “God, look at you,” you whisper, and his eyes are staring intensely at you, “you look so fucking good”

It happens so fast: suddenly he’s grabbing you by the arm and pushing you towards a wall; you can only moan as he forcefully spreads your legs, clutching onto his shoulders as he pulls your clothes down, removes your underwear, unzips himself and lifts you up. He shoves his cock into you, holding you against the wall as he fucks you so hard that you see stars.

You’re a panting mess as he fucks into you with no mercy, hurtling towards your orgasm at an alarming rate, all you can manage to get out are swears and pleads for him to not stop. It doesn’t take long for you to climax the hardest you’ve ever in your life. He isn’t far behind; you hear him groan, muffled slightly by the mask, his thrusts desperate until he finally cums, and he’s certain he has never cum so hard in his life either.

Both of you are breathing heavily, unable to move for at least a few minutes, the only thing keeping you against the wall is his body. Finally, still shaking from the intensity of his orgasm, Eddie pulls away and lowers you to the floor; to your surprise, he removes his mask - and then you’re shocked because he looks worried.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he stammers to your confusion, “I was too… I should have asked, I…” - and you understand. You shush him, pressing a kiss to his mouth and smiling weakly; when he merely looks even more confused, you tell him, “don’t apologise - I liked it.”

Having sex with him while he’s in Riddler costume becomes a very welcome and regular thing after that

Sometimes it’s after one of his streams, where you’re watching from behind the camera and feeling pent up arousal at the sight of him talking to all his followers, he can even see that you’re getting more and more aroused with each passing minute, and so once the stream’s ended you’re on each other immediately

To be honest, most of the time you don’t even make it to the bed when he fucks you as Riddler - he will literally just shove you against the nearest flat surface and fuck you right there.

It’s never disappointing when Eddie and you have sex without him wearing the Riddler costume - god no! - but it’s undeniable that he’s rougher and bolder wearing it, which can be very exciting. Out of Riddler costume, he’s more uncertain about sex, he’s very much a sub - in Riddler costume, he absolutely is a Dom

Sometimes he doesn’t bother with foreplay; he will just shove you down, unzip his trousers and fuck you right away, very hard and desperate.

Other times, however, Riddler wants to play: when he’s in that mood, he’ll get you to the bedroom and strip you completely naked before shoving you onto the bed. He’ll use either the your hands together/to the bed frame with rope, or he’ll use duct tape to tape your hands together/attach you to the bed - he also doesn’t hesitate to put a little tape over your mouth

That’s when he teases you; he’s still fully dressed but you can see he’s hard in his pants as his eyes behind his glasses watch you intently, always watching your reactions and the way you writhe for him. He’ll do all kind of things to tease you; touching you everywhere but where you want - need - to be touched, making you beg more and more for his touch, and even making you answer riddles correctly before he rewards you.

It’s even more infuriating when he’s inside of you, moving hard and fast and rough, you’re literally on the edge and about to fall - and then he suddenly stops and won’t move until you get a riddle correct.

It’s almost unfair how easily he can turn you into a panting and desperate mess. You learn very quickly, however, that you have one advantage up your sleeve.

“Please, Riddler!” You’ll beg when it gets too much, almost crying with how needy you are. “Touch me, Riddler! Fuck me!”

Oh, that does the trick immediately; you can see the way his eyes darken with lust, pupils dilated, as he moans and quickly reaches down to free his cock. It’s amazing how much hearing you call him by his alias turns him on, how quickly it makes him desperate even when he’s in control. It has such an effect on him that it’s almost ridiculous

“That’s it,” you’re nearly sobbing as he pins you down with his weight, cock thrusting in and out of you hard and fast as you both chase that sweet relief, “fuck me, Riddler, no one could ever fuck me like you!”

When he has you bent over, fucking you from behind like an animal, he’ll slap your ass and grab both your ass and your hips hard enough to leave marks; “such a good little slut,” you hear him breathe, voice husky as his hand comes down on your ass cheek once more, “so desperate for me…”

No matter what, no matter how rough or fast he is, he makes sure you cum; it’s usually what brings him over that edge, you spasming around his cock and sobbing his name with relief

You love both sides of your Eddie; the slightly shyer, quieter, but still brilliant Edward - and then the more confident, more out there, rougher Riddler side too. In truth, you just love all of him completely and know that you always will

[backtothestart02]

Just Best Friends - 9/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: “It’s been 84 years...” lolz. I hope you enjoy this! I don’t know when the next chap will come, but as soon as I can write it, I will!

...

Chapter 9 -

A week passed. During that week, Iris made herself completely unreachable – not just to Barry but to Eddie as well. She worked through lunch, so Barry couldn’t take her out, and she worked late hours, so that by the time she returned to hers and Eddie’s apartment, she was so exhausted, she could only heat up some leftovers and collapse onto their bed when she was finished with them.

That also meant no sex, no cuddling, and hardly any talking that wasn’t an incredibly brief apology before passing out or running out the door. And for Barry, it was just one excuse after another, though they always sounded very similar.

Sorry, I have so much work to do. Or… Maybe another time? I just got a new story, and I have a hot lead on it.

He always understood in words, but she could see the disappointment on his face every time. As well as her failure to respond to the fresh bouquet of flowers he set on her desk daily.

They weren’t just excuses though. They were legitimate…most of the time. Were they unnecessary? Probably. She didn’t have to go out of her way to beg her boss for more stories, or to work so far ahead of schedule that she felt she was on the verge of a burn out or collapse.

But she didn’t know how to act now that Eddie was back. She knew she needed to break up with him. She knew that. But she didn’t want to break his heart, and she wasn’t 100% sure Barry would just agree to date her after the hell she’d put him through emotionally. So avoiding both of them seemed to be the only way out.

She’d also come to the conclusion that while irritating, her dad going out of his way to forbid Barry to tell her he was the Flash had come from a place of love, and that she couldn’t stay mad at him any more than she could with Barry. The only problem was she found having that conversation with him was almost impossible because either Eddie or Barry or both seemed to be in his vicinity at all times.

Little did she know though that there was one other person who was taking a keen interest in the situation developing over the past week, and it was the one person she’d been paranoid about for a while before Eddie came back, and who she’d entirely forgotten about as the weight of the three men in her life came barreling down on her.

And that person had apparently had enough of what she was doing and had decided to seek her out for a confrontation of sorts shortly after Barry left during his lunch break for the fifth time that week.

With a slow yet determined saunter, Linda approached Iris’ desk just as soon as Mason disappeared for his daily lunch walk.

“Iris.”

The familiar voice made her freeze. She recovered quickly, but she had a feeling Linda had caught her red-handed and completely unprepared for where this particular conversation would lead. After all, the last time they’d “talked”, Linda had completely brushed her off, and the time before that Linda had told her to her face that she knew Iris had feelings for Barry, even when she’d still been in denial of that fact herself.

“Linda.” She shuffled her papers around on her desk to somehow fill the awkwardness of the moment. “What, uh…what can I do for you?”

Linda folded her arms and sat on the corner of Iris’ desk.

“Was that Barry that just left?”

“Hmm?” She decided to play dumb. “Oh, yeah, it was. He uh, wanted to go to lunch. I told him I had work to do, which I did – do. So, if you don’t mind?”

Linda’s jaw actually dropped.

“Dismissing me so quickly? If I recall correctly, the last time we talked, you were only too eager to get my attention.”

Iris bit her tongue to keep from responding with something she’d regret.

“Let me guess. You’re giving me a taste of my own medicine?” Linda raised her eyebrows.

Iris cleared her throat.

“Not at all. I just…I have work to do. A lot of it.”

“You’ve had a lot of work to do for the past five days, haven’t you?”

Iris’ eyes squinted.

“Have you been…spying on me?”

“Please.” Iris waited. “I’ve been talking to Barry. He’s needed someone to vent to, you know, since before Eddie came back you were practically climbing on top of him every day at lunch and after work and sometimes before work, according to him.”

“That’s not how it was,” Iris said under her breath.

“No? You better clear that up with your supposed best friend then, because that’s how he saw it. He’s crushed that you’re avoiding him again.” She leaned forward. “Which you are doing, right? Neither of us is buying that you suddenly have so much work to do.”

“I do!” Iris snapped. “I…I asked for it.”

Linda’s eyes widened and her mouth formed an ‘o’.

“And why would you do that?”

She started shuffling her papers again.

“That’s none of your business.”

“You made it my business when you made out with my boyfriend after sticking your finger in his mouth and sitting on his lap on our date.”

Iris sighed testily.

“I thought you two broke up.”

“We did.”

“Do you wish you hadn’t? I know it wasn’t your idea.”

“I’m not stupid, Iris. I’m not going to blindly fight for a relationship with someone who clearly wants to be with someone else.”

Iris bit her lip, avoiding eye contact.

“He does?” she asked quietly.

“He’s in love with you!” She lowered her voice when she got a few looks. “He’d take you in a heartbeat,” she paused. “If that’s what you want.”

Iris swallowed.

“But you don’t know what you want, do you?”

“Yes, I…I do.”

“Then what do you want? Please, tell me at least.”

“Why?” She met her eyes again and glared. “So you can run off and tell Barry? Or Eddie?”

Linda rolled her eyes.

“I have no reason to tell your boyfriend anything. Barry, however, I do still care about. And we’re friends now. He deserves to know the truth, even if it isn’t from you. He’s going crazy with all your…mixed signals.”

Iris nibbled on her lip again, guilt weighing her down.

“Iris, hey, there’s something I wanted to…” Mason approached, then came to an abrupt halt, sensing the tension between the two women immediately. “Am I interrupting something?” He looked between the two.

“Not at all.” Linda smiled serenely before looking down at Iris one last time. “You know where to find me, Iris.”

Iris gulped, not looking at her but nodded just before Linda retreated – finally – to her desk across the room.

“What was that about?”

Iris closed her eyes and shook her head before swiveling in her chair toward him.

“Nothing. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

His eyes were full of suspicion, but it was clear his need to discuss something with her was greater.

“I want to show you something.” He took the seat Linda had vacated, then pulled out a folder, revealing to her a familiar face she’d nearly forgotten. “Simon Stagg. Remember him?”

…

Well, there was no longer any way of avoiding it. She had to seek out Barry. Mason’s suspicions about Harrison Wells stirred her insides too deeply, and honestly, made her worried about her best friend, since she knew how much he adored who had become to be his mentor. There was Caitlin and Cisco to consider too, who had known Dr. Wells even longer, but right now all she cared about was Barry.

So, she marched over to CCPD shortly after her conversation with Mason, using the excuse of pursuing a story – which, more or less, she was – to explain her absence at her work site and sought out Barry as soon as she stepped out of the elevator.

Unfortunately, her dad’s eyes locked with hers first. She swallowed, remembering how things were between them. She considered then abandoning a much-needed talk with Barry to finally hash things out with her dad. That course of action was dashed however, when within seconds he had looked away from her and gestured instead in her direction to whoever was standing across from him.

She should’ve known then who it would be, but it didn’t occur to her until he was walking toward her, a grin on his face, no doubt thinking she was there to see him.

“Iris, hey.” He kissed her before she could even think to turn her cheek to him. “Did you have a late lunch today? I have some time now. We cou-”

“Oh, actually, I’m here to see, Barry. Is he upstairs?”

“Huh?”

“In his lab?”

Eddie blinked.

“Um, yeah, as far as I know. There are no active crime scenes where he’d be at otherwise.”

“Great. Thanks. I’ll see you tonight.”

She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and headed towards the staircase before he could so much as pull her in for an explanation or something more.

Feeling confused and honestly a little hurt, Eddie returned to his desk, Joe sitting now at his, ignoring Eddie’s state as best as he could.

“Should I be worried?” he finally asked.

Joe pretended not to have heard him.

“Joe.”

“Hmm?” he asked, not looking up from the files he was pretending to look over in front of him.

“Should I be worried?”

“About what?”

“About Iris,” he said, as if it should be obvious.

Despite how he felt about the man dating his daughter, Joe looked up to address him. He was also his partner, after all.

“Why are you worried about her?”

Eddie let out a cough of relief, eager to unload his troubles onto somebody – anybody – who would listen.

“She’s made herself busy ever since I got back.”

“She has a job. So do you.”

“More so than usual though,” he pushed on. “She leaves earlier than she used to, and she comes home really late. When she does, she eats some leftovers and crawls into bed without so much as a ‘hey, how was your day’ or ‘I love you, too, Eddie’.” He frowned. “It worries me.”

Now Joe frowned.

“She’s been avoiding Barry too.”

Eddie’s frown deepened.

“When had Barry been trying to meet up with her?”

“On her lunch breaks,” he blurted without thinking, then met his eyes, trying to play it off. “She always says she’s too busy working on a story.”

Eddie leaned back in his seat.

“I haven’t tried to meet up with her for lunch at all this week. I guess I’m so used to her coming here, and if she didn’t, that she had a good reason. I guess she did.”

“Well, there you go.”

Joe started to stand, eager to escape the awkwardness of the conversation.

“But I mean, we haven’t had sex all week.”

Joe finished straightening, then shot him a glare. Eddie’s face fell.

“You didn’t want to hear that.”

“Not particularly, no,” Joe said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He turned and headed for the bathroom. Any place was better than this.

…

About a step and a half before the entryway to Barry’s lap, Iris stalled, nibbling on her bottom lip. Barry had been as pleasant during her intended lunch break as he’d been all week, but she still wondered how accepting he’d be of her, especially when he found out this was a working meeting. She definitely needed to apologize first. How and when was the question, though. It was still beyond her how he hadn’t lashed out at her yet. She’d been treating him so unfairly, and yet time and time again, he kept crawling back to her, as if he was a glutton for punishment.

Well, no more of that. She couldn’t guarantee when she would break up with Eddie, but maybe Linda was right and she could at least explain her behavior this week and tell him she planned to break up with Eddie. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe…eventually.

“Is someone there?” Barry called out, and Iris realized she’d started tapping her shoe against the floor in time with the rapid rhythm of her mind.

She stopped abruptly, then cleared her throat and peeked her head into the doorway.

“Hey.”

She gave an awkward hand wave.

“Iris?”

His brows furrowed, but he started to smile. Lord, help her, it made her heart do a flip.

“What are you doing out there?” He got up out of his seat and headed towards her. “And why didn’t you just come in?”

“S-sorry,” she stuttered, shocked by it as much as he was, then forced herself to walk through the door.

He came to a stop as soon as she was inside and waited for her explanation.

“I guess I didn’t know if you’d want to see me.”

He gawked.

“Iris, I’ve been trying to see you all week.”

“No, I know. Of course. Right. But uh…I thought my rejecting you today might’ve been your breaking point, and that you wouldn’t want to see me now. Without an apology. Which I am totally willing to make, by the way.” Her chuckle was strained, and she couldn’t meet his eyes.

“What’s there to apologize for?” he asked. “You had work to do. That isn’t your fault. I’m sure you’ve been working hard to catch up.”

“Actually…” She took another step toward him. “I haven’t.”

His brows furrowed, and he sat back down.

“I don’t follow.”

She sighed and sat on the corner of his desk, the only spot where there wasn’t files or a conglomeration of office supplies.

“I asked for extra work.” She swallowed. “On Monday.”

He tilted his head, confused.

“I was trying to be busy. On purpose.” She licked her lips. “So I’d be too busy if you came to see me.”

He froze, his heart thudding away inside his chest. He didn’t know how to take that bit of information, and honestly, he was crushed.

“I don’t understand…you didn’t want to see me?”

The hurt in his voice was palpable. Iris hated that she was doing this to him again. He shouldn’t even want to be her friend after this, no matter how apologetic she was.

“Not just you,” she said, hoping that would soften the blow. “Eddie too. And my dad.”

He was mystified by that. He understood Joe, what with the Flash business and all that, but Eddie?

“What have you got against Eddie?”

“Nothing!” she burst, then got up and started to pace. “I just…” She licked her lips, unable to stop walking and unable to form words either, it seemed. She couldn’t stop though. Not to leave, not to make eye contact. Her hard was pounding, and her breath was coming in short bursts. She felt everything closing in around her and wondered if she was having a panic attack.

Suddenly, she stopped and forced herself to look at him.

“Do you want me to go?”

“No,” he said instantly, standing too. “I want an explanation.”

She swallowed.

“I thought you and I were good last week.”

“We were,” she said. “We are.”

“Yet you purposely didn’t want me near you this week?”

Her knees locked, and she tensed up.

“And Eddie…what in the world did he do except home to you? I would’ve thought you’d be happy about that.”

Tears welled in her eyes. Her fingers were sweaty and tingled. She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

“Iris.”

Answer.

“I don’t love him anymore!”

She covered her mouth at the same moment his eyes bulged, and he nearly stumbled backward.

“What?” he finally managed.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair as she started to pace again.

“I realized it last week. Or rather, I’ve been slowly realizing it for the past several weeks. I’ve just been…in denial.”

Barry’s pulse started racing. He approached her moving form with one determined step after another.

“What have you been in denial about, Iris?”

She stopped.

“What I just said!” She licked her lips again. “I don’t love him. I’m not in love with him anymore. But I don’t…I don’t know how to tell him. I don’t want to break his heart. Especially after I went out of my way to make him feel bad about thinking there was anything between us, when really-”

“Wait, wait, wait, us? As in, you and I, us?”

She looked up at him reluctantly and nodded.

“Yeah.”

“He doesn’t know I told you how I felt, does he? At Christmas?”

“No!” Her eyes widened. “No, I didn’t tell him that. He’d probably have punched you by now if I had.”

Barry paled, then squeaked, “Really?”

“Uh-huh,” she confirmed.

“W-Why?” He wrapped his arm around the back of his head.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He gave her a blank look. “You were trying to get his girlfriend to break up with him. To be with you.”

Barry thought about it for a few seconds, then realized that yeah, he kind of had been. He shook his head after he got past that thought.

“I still don’t understand though. If you didn’t tell him about that…” He locked eyes with her. “Did you tell him you…find me attractive?”

“Oh, God, no.” She pressed her face into her hands. “That would’ve been even worse.”

“Worse than a love confession? How?”

“Because it’s coming from me! And I…”

“What?”

She power-walked to right in front of him and prepared herself for the blow of all blows.

“I don’t just find you attractive, Barry. I have…I have feelings for you.”

I’m in love with you – But she couldn’t admit to that yet. Not while she was still dating Eddie.

He swallowed, fighting with the smile that wanted to take over his face.

“What kind of feelings?”

“Barry.” Her voice softened. “You know what kind.”

“Tell me,” he said. “Just so I know for sure.”

He was holding his breath, and she couldn’t blame him. Honestly, she was on the brink of holding hers too.

“You make my heart race, Barry.”

“Iris.”

He started to lean in, and it took all of her willpower to step back out of reach.

“No, we can’t. I can’t. It’s bad enough I cheated once. This can’t go any farther until it’s over.” She met his eyes. “Until Eddie and I are over.”

Barry swallowed.

“And when will that be?”

Her shoulders slumped, and her bottom lip quivered.

“I don’t know.”

His shoulders caved in as well. He forced himself not to get mad, but he couldn’t help feeling disappointed. So, the love of his life finally felt the same way, but she wouldn’t let herself act on it? And she wouldn’t do the one thing that would allow them to be together.

“Is that the only thing you came to tell me?” he asked, unable to keep some chill out of his words.

Iris supposed she couldn’t blame him.

“No…” she admitted, deciding not to mention how she hadn’t meant to tell him as much as she had.

“What else?”

She pursed her lips, hating that she had to turn this conversation into a business one before she could give him the answer that he wanted.

“What else, Iris?” he asked, sounding exhausted when she didn’t answer for too long.

“It’s about, Dr. Wells,” she finally said.

That caught him off guard.

“Dr. Wells? What does he have to do with anything?”

“I hope nothing, but just in case…can we go somewhere else? To talk?”

He wanted to ask her what was wrong with his lab, but he supposed the fresh air would do them both good. Give them a clear head and put everything she’d already said to rest for the time being. After all, she sounded awfully serious about whatever else she wanted to talk about.

“Sure,” he said. “Just let me grab my jacket.”

“Barry,” she called after him as he walked by her.

He stopped when he reached his garment.

“I’m sorry about…everything.”

“Don’t worry about it, Iris,” he said, as he slid his arms through the sleeves. “It’s fine.”

…

Hours later, and on a whim, Eddie found himself at a jewelry store – diamonds, to be more specific. In the back of his mind, he knew his intentions probably weren’t smart. Especially not right now, not with the way things were between him and Iris, especially this week. But there was another part of him that thought this might be just the thing to jolt their relationship back into what it had once been and the potential of what it could be, the future he’d seen from almost the minute he started dating her.

He pointed out a ring nestled in velvet that caught his eye in the display case below him. An employee walked up, inspired by his curiosity and tried to catch his attention.

“Sir?”

“Can I see that one, please?”

The man smiled.

“Of course.”

He reached for the key and unlocked the case. Just as he was pulling the velvet block out with the specified ring upon it, Eddie’s phone started to vibrate.

“Oh, excuse me.”

He turned partially away and glanced at the screen on his phone. He answered immediately, a smile on his face.

“Hey, Iris, what’s up?”

“I’m home,” she said, and he could hear the frown in her voice.

“So early?”

“Yeah, I felt bad for coming home so late every night this week…I thought we could have dinner together.”

“That sounds great.”

“Yeah?” She sounded relieved.

“Definitely. I’m uh…just running a last-minute errand. I’ll be home soon.”

“Okay. See you then.”

“See you.”

He turned back to the jeweler as he slid the phone back in his pocket, and his eyes widened with enthusiasm as the ring was presented to him.

“Oh, yeah. This is the one.”

[mst3kproject]

Godmonster of Indian Flats

If I had a dollar for every movie I’ve seen about a bloodthirsty mutant sheep, I would have... two dollars.

I was entirely willing to feature Godmonster of Indian Flats based on its strangeness alone, but it does have one connection to MST3K in that actress Peggy Browne was also in Avalanche. Another performer here, Kerrigan Prescott, also had a part in previous Episode that Never Was Fiend Without a Face, so hey, close enough!

Dr. Clemens and his assistant Mariposa discover a mutant lamb on Eddie the Rancher’s sheep farm, and take it up to a secret lab at Indian Flats for study.  This seems somewhat outside of Clemens’ claimed purview as an anthropologist, but whatever, I’m just here to watch the movies.  While the monster grows to maturity in a tank, the mayor of a local tourist town, Mr. Silverdale, is refusing to sell land to a Mr. Barnstable, who is interested in the mining rights.  We soon get the idea that Silverdale is less interested in tourism than he is in having his own private Wild West LARP, and the townsfolk have an almost cult-like reverence for him.  Eventually, their increasingly violent attempts to run Barnstable out of town cross paths with Dr. Clemens’ pet mutant, and all hell breaks loose!

Well, maybe not all hell.  This movie hasn’t got the money for all hell.  Rest assured, though, that they unleash all the hell they could afford.

The hell in question takes the form of a lumpy hunchbacked sheep creature with a rubbery sock puppet head, one long dangling arm, and a huge Kim Kardashian ass.  It interrupts a picnic, and blows up a gas station by knocking over a pump with its bubble butt.  It may or may not understand English, and it breathes poisonous gas when injured.  The puppet is pretty weird and scary-looking in the darkness of Clemens' secret lab, but out in the full light of day it is ridiculous.

Any movie with a mutant sheep monster is going to be weird, and the monster is the weirdest thing in the movie, but make no mistake – Godmonster of Indian Flats sans monster would still be a weird fucking movie. The other story going on here, Silverdale vs Barnstable, is thoroughly bizarre in itself.

Apparently it's not enough for Silverdale and the townspeople to simply refuse to sell Barnstable their mining rights.  Instead, they have to totally ruin his career and both his physical and mental health! First of all, they invite him to their 'Bonanza Days' and have him take part in a shooting contest, where the whole town conspires to make it look like he accidentally shot the sheriff's dog.  Then they hold a funeral for the dog as if it were a person.  The whole time the dog is fine – it was just playing dead, and afterwards the sheriff sends it to live with a friend.

When Barnstable still doesn't leave town after this, Silverdale's toady Phil whacks him over the head with a bottle, then shoots himself in the shoulder and puts the gun in the unconscious man's hand.  Barnstable wakes up in jail and demands a lawyer, but everybody ignores him.  Eddie and Mariposa help him escape, and the sheriff then forms a posse to hunt him down and lynch him!  At the end of the movie Silverdale triumphantly tells Barnstable that he's going to lose his job because his boss is embarrassed by all these goings-on.  At this point Barnstable also has a cracked skull and a broken arm.  He's a PTSD-ridden shell of a man and yet Silverdale is still yelling “I've beaten you, Barnstable!” as the end credits roll.

All of this might become a little less weird (but way more horrible) when I mention that Barnstable is the only black character with dialogue.  And yet, none of it is ever overtly framed as racist.  Nobody ever uses a slur – in fact, Barnstable's race is never once referenced in dialogue, not even obliquely.  You could cast a white actor in this part and nothing would have to be changed. What Barnstable seems to represent, and what Silverdale and the townspeople claim to be fighting against (Silverdale declares that he is 'the custodian of an era'), is decadence and capitalism, concepts traditionally associated with a white elite.

This in itself should be read as a commentary on race.  It's notable that Barnstable is playing by white rules.  He's a smooth businessman representing the interests of his presumably white boss.  When Silverdale invites him to Bonanza Days, he is happy to step into that role, too.  He dresses the part and takes up the six-shooter, and does a pretty good job with it.  Barnstable is a 'model minority' figure, a black man with the trappings of white success... and in spite of that, he is still abused.  Hard as he tries to fit into the white people's world, he is not welcome there.

I don't think that's actually what Barnstable is supposed to represent to the viewer, however.  The people of this town are described in the opening as 'living in the past' and we see that they're very dedicated to it.  Silverdale dresses the part of a nineteenth century gentleman even when he's at home.  Everybody dresses up in period costumes for occasions like parties and church, and the town's status as a tourist attraction requires many people to play such a role full-time.  There's a dark underbelly to this quaint little world, as we see in the opening when a barmaid steals Eddie's casino winnings, but even that fits their chosen period.

Barnstable intrudes into this world as a representative of modernity and reality. If you're paying attention, you soon realize that the 'past' the townsfolk are living in isn't like the real past at all.  The real history of this little mining town would have involved filthy, back-breaking work in the mines, and saloons full of drunks, prostitutes, and crime.  The modern town has adopted the pretty trappings of the 19th century – the clothes, the horses, and nice little shows of piety like the dog funeral – while sweeping the dirt and violence under the rug.  The latter are only to be turned on outsiders.

This fantasy version of the old west is also very, very white.  In the real world, history is always more diverse than we usually think it was – one of the historical figures who inspired the character the Lone Ranger, for example, was Bass Reeves, the first black US Marshall in the west.  The people in Silverdale's town have no interest in that.  There is not a single Native American character in the movie, and I've already mentioned the lack of other people of colour, except for a couple of background tourists.  This is an essential part of throwing away the ugly parts of the past – race brings conflict, and Silverdale and his followers want none of that. Barnstable's race makes his status as an outsider all the more obvious, both visually and as a reminder that the world these people are trying to live in never really existed.

This puts Barnstable in a very strange place in this movie.  He's definitely a victim, but never a hero – in fact, Godmonster of Indian Flats is yet another movie that doesn't have a hero – yet he is not a villain, either.  He's just some poor bastard who wandered into a horror movie and now he can't find his way out of it.

So... what does any of this have to do with a mutant sheep monster?

I dunno.  There seem to have been mutants in this area for a long time, since Clemens talks about legends of a 'mine monster' and even shows off weird fossils he's found, but how does that tie into the theme of clinging to the past?  Maybe it's supposed to be about history repeating itself, since new monsters are being born just as the mines are about to re-open?  I have no idea.

Does the monster die at the end?  I cannot tell you.  I think it dies when the truck it was caged in blows up?  The movie ends with an angry mob pushing the truck over a steep slope where they dump their garbage, while Eddie, Clemens, and Mariposa try to reveal Silverdale's own land-grab scheme.  This all degenerates into chaos and people tumbling down the hill and shooting each other, while Silverdale stands there yelling about how violence controls the masses and how he's beaten Barnstable. It's an ending that seems calculated to leave the audience going, “... huh?”.

Why is it a God monster? Now this, I do have a theory about.  I don't think the sheep is actually the godmonster – I think the titular menace is actually Mr. Silverdale! He wields a god-like authority within the town, even when his evil scheme is apparently exposed at the end, and uses it to do monstrous things!  If that's not what they were going for... then I have no idea.

I mentioned in the opening that I've seen two movies about mutant sheep monsters.  The other is Black Sheep, which is one of those off-the-wall movies they make in New Zealand when they're not doing Tolkien-related stuff.  Black Sheep was apparently inspired by Godmonster of Indian Flats, but it throws out the race relations stuff and runs with the 'mutant sheep' thing to make on of the most perfect dark comedies I've ever seen.  I would recommend it to the strong-stomached in the same way I recommended The Valley of Gwangi to anyone disappointed by Beast of Hollow Mountain – it is everything the older film should have been but was not.

[luxshine]

Supernatural and the Dark Tower... Or how some writers are better gods than others.

The Dark Tower, by Stephen King, has a very interesting take on endings at the end of the seven book long journey Roland the Gunslinger took to reach the title Dark Tower.   I was going to write it all but it’s about two pages long, and if you haven’t read the books it may not make much sense. However, the main take is that there is no such thing as happy endings, but there are endings that are happy enough. That the ending he gave us, with Roland reaching the tower, and Susannah meeting Eddie and Jake in Central Park is one of those, and that if we, his Constant Readers, go on reading the last pages of the Coda, we will be “disappointed, perhaps even heartbroken”. That “Endings are heartless. Ending is just another word for goodbye.”

I keep thinking about those lines when I think of Supernatural’s 15x19 and 15x20.

15x19 is not a perfect ending. I mean, we’re still missing people, Jack saying he’ll be hands off is not really nice, and Cas is still in the Empty. BUT we have hope. The Brothers are free. And just as we can imagine (And King tells us it might happen) how Susannah and Eddy and Jake may meet a dog version of Oy (If you’ve read the books, it makes sense. If not, well, just trust me that it is a happy situation), we can picture Dean hitting the books, and he and Sam finding a way to get Castiel back, human or angelic depending on your preferred tea, and Sam reuniting with Eileen. And afterwards? Well, you decide. Whatever happens, we still have hope.

It’s not Happily Ever After, but as King says, it’s good enough. We could’ve stopped there and pick our own ending. But of course, there’s still 15x20. And when we saw it, we were certainly disappointed, even if we weren’t heartbroken (I was, but I digress)

Just as King warned us not to keep going in the Dark Tower Coda, someone should’ve warned us not to keep going to the end of Supernatural. And here, doing a full circle on the meta, I warn you that if you keep reading, I will go on spoilers for The Dark Tower AND Supernatural (Of course, if you got to Supernatural 15x20 and are heartbroken over it… you probably remember what happened in seasons 4, 5 and 9 so … those wouldn’t be spoilers)

If you’re still with me, I am sorry, I am about to go on a long, long diatribe about how the Dark Tower is an amazing meta tale, even if the end made me cry in public for the first time in years while reading a book. And how Supernatural, by accident or by intent, tried to do the same and kind of went the wrong way in Albuquerque when it could’ve been a lot better.

Yes, Supernatural could’ve been better than a Stephen King book, and that coming from me is high, HIGH praise.

See, The Dark Tower is a tale about well, a lot of things, but in the axis, in the tower, so to speak, is a tale about tales. About stories and how we relate to fiction and about how we, the readers, relate to fiction. Of course, this is REALLY subtextual, since the actual story is about a sort of medieval cowboy traveling across dimensions to save the axis of existence.

It’s a complicated series of books.

In any case, around book 6, Roland, our cowboy, ends up in the real world. Our real world. And he meets Stephen King, OUR Stephen King (Well, a douchier version of King, to be fair), who upon being confronted by his own characters has a big ego boost and declares himself a god.

Pretty much like Chuck did back in the Monster at the End of the Book, except that there, he changed his mind pretty quickly and went back to his “meek prophet” disguise. King didn’t, by the way, and Roland left that world even LESS impressed than the Winchesters with their own author.

Now, we all know that at the End of season 5, it so happened that Chuck WAS God, and we got confirmation back in season 9 when he still liked fan fiction and his characters, apparently, until he went all megalomaniac “I am a God and I can destroy you if you don’t follow my plot”… thing is? King did the opposite.

See, The characters had to go back to the real world to save King from a drunk truck driver that ran over him in real life. In the book, one of the characters even sacrifices himself for it. But now, King is no longer so full of himself that he thinks he’s a god and he deserves said sacrifice. He admits he, as a writer, is only telling the story that the real god, in this case Gan, lets him see. He only has keys to peek through doors of reality, and what he writes, is what he sees. Not what he wants, not what he thinks is better, but what the CHARACTERS want.

So yeah, the opposite of Chuck.

But then, The Dark Tower goes a bit further. Once again, comparing ends, the End of Supernatural left us empty because it WAS a Goodbye. A bad one too as it left us with absolute no hope (except for those fix it fics where Dean goes and finds out why his angel is ghosting him in Heaven, for fucks sake, and Sam’s blurry face wife is Eileen, but those are FICS. Not the story). The story ends with Sam and Dean dead, in a Heaven that may be as well Earth-lite as far as we know, but we have no real way of knowing if it’s not just a bigger version of the original “repeat your happy memories ad nauseaum”

No change, no free will. No to be Continued, no hope of a better life. Just… End. Bye. Nothing more to see.

The end to the Dark Tower is equally heartbreaking ,but at the same time, a bit more hopeful.

Because in that universe, characters whose stories end? If they keep going, they go back to the beginning. Not to the beginning of time, or of their lives but to the Beginning of THEIR Story. For one brief moment they know this is happening, that they’re back in that first opening sentence, that they will have to suffer through all of it again UNCHANGING and all the joy will happen, but also all the sadness. All the tragedy. And then they forget. And the story starts again, because the story is a book, and a book can only have one plot, one ending, and re-reading it won’t change what happened.

Roland cries and begs for mercy, but the Tower is unmoving and he goes back. We, the Readers, go Back.

EXCEPT

There’s a tiny, small change from the “beginning” we read now, to the beginning we read in the first book. We’re told that the time we read was not the first time, that Roland has done this a thousand times before. But this time, we went with him, so he gets a small change, a tiny thing, but big because, in Roland subconscious, may mean that this time, the story will be different. So we’re left with a tiny bit of hope, despite how badly we were crushed seconds before.

And Supernatural could’ve given us that. Not the same of course, not with Dean or Sam (Let’s be honest, it would’ve been probably Sam, given how much the writer’s room loved him) waking up in the pilot, Remembering all that happened, and knowing that they can’t really change it because it was already written, but then noticing they already have the Colt, or Ruby’s knife. Or perhaps they have the key to the bunker and a map already. That would’ve been too close to comfort for plagiarism so nope.

BUT

We could’ve ended with Billie closing one of her books and telling Dean, the Dean from season 12, that that COULD be how his story ends, and that he now has the choice to make his own ending, that he can either go against Chuck or convince Chuck his ending was crap.

We could’ve ended with Sam convincing Chuck that there’s another road to the ending he wants, as long as he lets them go on. He may be bored of the characters now, but he can always wait for a bit.

With Chuck giving the reins of his world to Becky and the fangirls, really closing on the whole “death of the author” and not ruining a character that, prior to season 15, the fandom loved.

With a thousand of ways that left both the meta world intact, and our hearts hurt, but not broken. Not angry.

(And that is not touching on the usual misogyny, racism, and heteronormative that the ending insisted on reinforcing)

Supernatural could’ve ended with a bang, and become an absolute legend. Instead, it ended with a whimper, and as a cautionary tale.

There’s no such thing as a happy ending, said King. But we could have had a Hopeful one.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

You should do hc for if one do the losers kids got hurt, like, badly, where they would need surgery or something, and how that ship/parent would deal with that, like taking care of them after it.

Thank you so much for the request. I hope you enjoy.

A/n: Okay, so for all of these I’m gonna have the same scenario in which the ships kid fell down the starts and hit their head, this cause them to be very disoriented and needing stitches.

Warnings: mention of blood and stitches

Reddie:

- Within Reddie, I feel like Richie is the one who freaks out the most, while Eddie is the level headed one

- Because of all the things his mom put him through, Eddie tends to minimise every sickness or wound he himself gets, and he tries to be cautious about how to react to his child when they get hurt, because he read an article that says that children pick up on their parents moods.

- Richie however is very Squamish of blood, so he’s in charge of keeping their kid calm and distracting then from the pain, while Eddie asses the damage.

- On this particular day, Richie and Eddie are in their yard, bating in the sun with Richie writing his jokes and Eddie reading a book, while their kid was upstairs to locate their phone.

- They vaguely hear a bang inside the house, but they don’t start to panic until they hear one, anguished scream

- They know their child and they know that they wouldn’t cry or yell out in pain if it wasn’t serious, so they’re instantly on high alert.

- As suspected, at the bottom step of the stairs a trial of blood drips down, and an open wound is gushing on their kids forehead.

- Despite their earlier screams though, they’re very calm and only let the occasional tear escape.

- Eddie’s instincts kick into serves as he inspects their wound. He’s level headed enough to determine that while they for sure need to go to the hospital, the blood mostly stems from the fact that they hit their head in a spot that is natural to bleed a lot.

- He runs to go get a towel and an ice pack, and is back as soon as possible to create a make shift bandage that will hopefully stop the blood flow until they get to the hospital.

- Richie meanwhile is tying their hair in a dot (if their hair is long enough for it) so their hair doesn’t get caked with blood, but he’s starting to really panic because their kid is barely responding.

- They’re saying yes and no, but they avoids answering if it hurts, and they almost seems to be looking through their dads, instead of looking at them.

- So they hurry to get them to the hospital.

- Richie is in the back with them, telling them stories about all the tomfoolery he did when he was still a kid. It coacs a chuckle out of them, but not a full laugh like it usually does.

- They get to the hospital and the doctors check then over and inform Richie and Eddie that they have a concussion, and that’s the reason they seemed so confused.

- Like a second after he says this they suddenly start crying in full again, and Richie and Eddie turn their full attention to them.

- The doctor is about to start stitching their skin back up, and though their child isn’t really scared scared about needles, they would prefer to not get them

- Richie is a bit Squamish about blood, but he holds their hand tight and hopes that is soothes them (it does)

- Eddie narrates as the doctor is doing things and explains things in a less scary way so they know what’s happening.

- They are required to stay overnight, but the doctors let both of their dads stay, and they spend the evening in the hospital playing board games or watching whatever is on the TV to distract them from their wound.

Hanbrough

- okay, honestly , Bill really tries his best, but he becomes so panicked he’s really of no use.

- Mike is essentially dealing with two people who need care and attention, but he can only really focus on one to begin with.

- Like Bill sees his child bleeding and gets flashbacks to Georgie and he much he must have suffered and he shuts down completely.

- Je starts to cry, and their child sees that, panics too and cries with him.

- He really can’t do anything besides pressing in the 911 number (he can’t even talk he’s that shaken up about it) while Mike is has to both calm their child and Bill, and talk to the operator.

- Bill hugs their child really close to his chest and rocks them back and forth, therefor calming them down albeit it being none intentional.

- Mike runs to get a towel but seeing as the ambulance is on it’s way, he doesn’t really have to worry about whether or not the gaze is gonna stick or not.

- It’s not until the ambulance pulls up on their drive way that Bill snaps out of his panicked haze. Suddenly all he can think is that he is there to help his child, unlike he was with Georgie, and he’s not gonna let them down.

- So he calms down, slightly, and comforts his child as Mike helps the Emts to load them up in the wagon.

- They both are allowed to drive in the back with their child on the way to the hospital, and opportunity they both love to take.

- I’m the ambulance, Bill promises to write a bad ass character based on them in his next book, as long as they promise to be brave and not fight against the doctor. Which they obviously don’t.

- They do need both Mike and Bill’s hand in theirs though, just to feel extra safe.

- When the stitches are finally done and they’re escorted to an overnight room, Mike cuddles up both with his husband and his kid, thankful that their day is over.

Stozier

- in Stozier is kinda see the same dynamics as in reddie.

- Except Stan can’t handle touching any wounds that have blood pouring out them, out of fear of what germs are in there, so he has to coach Richie to do it for him

- Richie is (like I said before) still Squamish about the blood, but it’s his child so of course he’s gone to bite his teeth and push through.

- Stan, though he’ll try to hide it, is very concerned, and honestly feels like crying.

- He feels a bit like he failed to protect his kid, and that he somehow allowed them to fall down the stairs as if any of it was in his control.

- So he really spoils his kids in the hospital, by buying them all the food they want, all the toys they once upon a time mentioned they would love to have, until the point where it seems like they almost died.

- Richie gently tries to make Stan aware of this, especially since as soon as their kid so much as whimpers he’s out the door asking the nurses for more medicine so they can’t feel any pain.

- I just feel like Stan is very disappointed with himself if something happens to his kid, to the point where Richie will have to convince him for days that there was nothing he could have done.

- Stan just hates the fact that he can’t take their pain away. Richie hates this too by the way, he’s just better at putting it in perspective.

- Stan will follow the doctors orders to a T. If the doctor says they need to wait at least a week before doing any sports, you best believe they’re not going to either

- But his kids really loves him for it, because they know they can trust on their dad to keep them safe as much as possible.

- And they can count on Richie to be just as nurturing and kind.

[sugarandspace]

Step by Step (Keep Moving Forward)

Summary: Buck reflects on the talk he had with Eddie when he went to pick him up from the hospital

Warnings: mentions of the time when Buck was younger and didn't care if he got hurt/got hurt on purpose so that his parents would notice him. It's short and not graphic.

AO3

When Buck lays down in his bed later that night, he’s unable to fall asleep. He stares at the ceiling in the dim light coming from the tall windows and waits for his soul to catch up with his body. The past two days have been a lot and he thinks he needs more than the eight hours of rest he could have before his shift if he were to fall asleep now.

However, sleep is very far from his mind when all it can do is play a loop of the conversation he had with Eddie earlier. The one where Eddie told him that if something were to happen to Eddie and he wouldn’t make it - a situation they all came too close to experiencing - Buck would be Christopher’s legal guardian.

And it’s a lot, on so many levels.

Not so much that Buck would ever think to refuse. He loves the kid like he’s his own and he wonders when that happened. He wants nothing but the best for Christopher and if Eddie thinks that Buck could give him that, who is Buck to argue.

And that means the world to him.

He knows that Eddie trusts him. They wouldn’t work so well together if he didn’t. In their line of work being able to trust your partner is one of the most important things. But to have Eddie trust him with his son? Buck knows Eddie and knows how much that means.

He’s heard the words before, in the aftermath of the tsunami. He never thought that Eddie was lying when he said that there’s no one in the world he trusts with his son more than Buck, but nothing really made it sink in so thoroughly like the words Eddie said today.

It’s in my will that if I die, you become Christopher’s legal guardian.

Eddie had had an answer for every question Buck had asked. It was obvious he had really thought it through and honestly, Buck wouldn’t expect any less when it comes to Eddie and deciding what would be good for Christopher.

But no one will ever fight for my son as hard as you. That is what I want for him.

Eddie said he did it last year and Buck had no idea. He wonders when Eddie would have told him if it weren’t for what Buck said when he first visited Eddie in the hospital.

He still stands by his words, thinks that it would have been better if he were the one who got shot. If he could go back and somehow change it, he would. In a heartbeat.

He thinks about how scared he was in the truck, not because they were still being shot at but because Eddie had been hit. Eddie was bleeding and had already lost so much blood and they were nowhere near a hospital. The only words Eddie spoke were when he asked if Buck was okay.

The realization makes Buck gasp, his eyes flying open after he’d squeezed them shut against the tears that had threatened to fall at the memories of helplessness.

Eddie had been worried that something had happened to Buck as well and Christopher would lose them both.

It makes Buck think about the accident at the crane. If he’d known then, would he have been so quick to act so recklessly? Would he have stayed down for a while longer while they tried to come up with a safer way to help that man?

Would Eddie be disappointed if he knew that Buck had once again been ‘Buck’ and played hero?

Once upon a time, Buck used to think that he was alone, that he had no one to go home to. He’s grown since that, worked through things that have been weighing him down. He’s by no means done with that, knows it will be a long journey to let go of the baggage he carries and to learn to live with the part of it that has become a permanent part of him. He might come back to his empty apartment some days, but is it really where his home is? Maybe home is not a place but a feeling, one he feels when they are in the middle of a long shift and sit together to eat dinner that Bobby made for them, the same warmth he feels when he spends time with Maddie, the love he feels when he’s around Eddie and Christopher.

There are a lot of people in his life that he loves, and Buck knows without a doubt that those people love him back. He even has a small niece now, and he can’t wait to be there to see Jee-Yun grow up.

It’s not like he wants to die. His days of being reckless simply because he didn’t care about the consequences are over. No more impulsive actions and hoping that if he gets hurt, maybe someone will see how much he’s hurting inside as well.

Most of that hurt is gone now. Part of it left him when he told his parents how they really make him feel, part when he understood where they were coming from. Therapy has been hard, but it has been a huge help.

He still has his reckless moments, his moments of being a Buck like his friends like to call it. But the motive has changed. It’s no longer because he doesn’t care, it’s because he wants to help. Because it doesn’t matter if he gets hurt if it helps someone else. Eddie hit the nail on the head with his words.

You act like you’re expendable, but you’re wrong.

Maybe that’s the next step. To realize that he’s wrong. That there are people, several of them, who would be sad if he were to get hurt. He’s not going to stop helping people, but maybe he could think a little more before he acts. He thinks about the conversation he had with Bobby after the stunt he pulled at the crane and remembers how disappointed he had been that Buck had made himself a target.

Buck might think that he’s expendable, but there are plenty of people who don’t. And maybe, until he can convince his own mind that he's wrong, he can try to believe it when other people tell him.

He’s not alone.

[soulwillower]

buttercup • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

requested: Would you mind writing a Richie Tozier X reader soulmate AU where Richie is VERY self conscious and he finds out that the reader is his soulmate and the reader is well known and very pretty, so he’s just like djjdjfgjjcbvnfnf but once they actually meet she really likes him? :0 thanks if you consider!

warning: swearing, angst, richie being edgy and also a bit unstable (king shit), neuroatypical richie!!!, fluff, soulmate au!! <33 also sorry this may be rough, i havent edited it at all

[reader + losers are in college]

lmk what u guys think of this one,... idk LOL

4.1k words

♡

richie was about to be sick. yes, he really, really was going to vomit in approximately ten seconds and he didn’t know what he was going to do. the room, full of barely-adults chugging jungle juice was sweaty and bustling and the walls were closing in on him quick. those people who weren't in the main rooms were doing sniff in the bathrooms and blocking his pathway to heaven (the toilet) so he quickly stumbles towards the sliding-glass door.

he passes a guy who claps his shoulder and says in a deep voice, "you good, bro?"

no, no. he's not good, bro. thanks for asking, though.

as he finally breaks free of the plastic, out of the crusty balloon that was holding his body hostage, he takes a deep breath and sprawls himself on the back deck, staring up at the clouds in the nighttime sky. maybe he should go home and mull this over, before he crams it down his own throat and chokes to death, alone and broken on the back deck of a 22 year old business major's rental house.

he laughs to himself - an image which he's sure would be a full on maniacal scene to an onlooker - as he lights a cigarette with very shaky fingers. even if he chooses to give this situation some thought, he will end up being forced regardless because this is, quite literally, richard tozier's destiny.

y/n y/l/n is richie's destiny, and it makes him feel like complete shit.

you see - his whole life, richie knew about the fucking soulmate tattoos. of course he did, everybody did - it was, like, one of the first things you learn, ever. he knows that there's basically a soulmate for every person and often times the soulmate marks were different, the ways of finding your soulmate were wide and far.

for most of richie's life - actually, almost all of it up until the last month - he'd had a big, fat 0 tattooed on his arm and below it a humiliating phrase that was quite the epitome of richie himself.

yet it never changed, which led him, his friends, and his parents to determine that he'd gotten a time-counter soulmate mark, which he likes to pride himself on believing he did not give a single fuck about.

the number is supposed to count the amount of time that you've spent with your soulmate, and there's usually a sentence or phrase that's associated with your soulmate's first thoughts of you below it. and yeah, of course the first thing the lucky guy or gal thought of richie is 'wow, those are the ugliest socks ever.' pretty fucking on-brand, if richie says so himself.

so yeah, he never really paid attention to his soulmate mark - partly because the thought of emotionally opening up to someone enough for them to know his whole and true self was repulsive and terrifying enough to make him physically ill, enough for him to develop a crazy sense of humor as a less-than proficient coping mechanism for the insecurity and fear that lives in his mind rent-free, 24/7 365. but mostly he didn't pay attention to the mark because, you know, he thought it was lame.

that is, until it changed from the 0.

it happened on the first day of classes fall semester of this, his freshman year of college.

which, honestly, was a huge fucking bummer, because he literally came into contact with almost 800 new people that first day through classes, dorms, walking around campus, and the dining hall. and yet, as he got back to his dorm and smoked a bowl with bill, he'd noticed that his arm had said 00:51:26.

bill had been so excited he'd almost lifted richie through the roof, because 'holy sh-shit, rich, y-you did it!'

it was hard to believe someone was out there for him, though. and yeah, he didn't give a fuck about it, but he also kind of did.

richie, now thinking back on that day, groans a bit. if he'd just known, if he had just fucking looked at the thigh of the girl in front of him with the soft-looking grin and the alluring scent of orange creamsicle shampoo, who'd smiled a bit when he borrowed a pen - if he'd just known then that y/n was meant to spend the rest of her life with him, he could've... well, he's not really sure what he could have done.

he thinks to that moment in time, as he was blowing smoke out the dorm window with bill and giggling as he ate an entire bag of cheez-its, and how much he wanted to know who it was back then.

but tonight, it had become a nightmare when the information practically fell into his lap. he's at this house party in late september, and about five minutes ago it was just boring enough to warrant sitting on the rug in the living room and just fun enough to actually stay.

“-yeah, she said the first time you guys met was in microeconomics, right?” ben says, and richie huffs in agreement as he picks at the skin on his nails. ben was talking about her again, and richie's heart was beating stupidly hard. y/n, one of his closest friends that he'd made outside of the losers, never failed to make his heart run a goddamn marathon.

“-she told me the first thing she noticed was that you were wearing socks with sandals. and she thought that your socks were really ugly.” he finishes with a laugh and richie’s head snaps up at that. he feels chills spill over back as if he’d been doused with ice water and he gapes at ben. “wait, what?” richie shudders, the words escaping his lips quietly enough that his friends mistake it for a forceful exhale brought on by offense at the word 'ugly.'

“well she was right to think that.” stan says from behind his solo cup, carefree, as if richie’s life wasn’t crashing to an alarming and unbelievable halt. eddie giggles faintly somewhere from the floor where the losers are sitting, but richie’s mind is reeling too much for him to react to or even comprehend anything.

“rich, i th-thought i got you to st-stop wearing socks and sandals so long ago.” bill adds, laughing into his hand. but richie’s barely registering any other fucking information because he’s staring at ben, who is finally noticing his friend’s perplexed face. “you good, rich?” ben asks carefully.

“wh-er, wait. what exactly did she say?” richie asks, really not wanting to know the answer and yet wanting to know more than life itself. it can't be her. he’s getting odd looks from everyone now, but he's starting to breathe quickly and he thinks he might vomit. he kind of regrets never showing anybody but big bill his soulmate mark, because he's suffocating right now in embarrassment and bill is a little too drunk to assume what richie's assuming right now.

“wait, y/n y/l/n, right? from my dorm. she’s here tonight, she told me- oh, y/n!” stan calls, looking directly over richie’s shoulder. it happens so fast. y/n, in the flesh, walks past at just that moment, breaking out into a breath-taking, world-halting smile. richie's chest hurts worse than it ever has before as she waves and bustles over to plop herself next to richie. and holy shit, she's wearing shorts because even though it's cold out, the house is warm and richie can see dark ink on her thigh. a soulmate tattoo. he can't draw his eyes away even though his brain is screaming to knock it off because there's going to be something there he doesn't want to accept, but he then does it anyways.

he almost hyperventilates as he reads the words emblazoned on her thigh,

27:36:08 and right below it: "holy hell her hair smells like orange creamsicle"

he almost sobs right then and there as she greets him with a soft hand on his shoulder, completely unaware of their fate and richie has to stand up abruptly because he can literally feel the numbers changing on his arm as the seconds go by with y/n at his side.

and now, mere minutes later he's out here, laying in self pity as anxiety claws at every inch of his body and fear tingles on him like the slight presence of snowflakes falling on his skin - briefly he wonders if, as an older man, he'll wonder how he never got cold wearing nothing, vulnerable as he welcomes in that falling snow.

he would be totally daft not to wonder how he ended up with a soulmate like her, someone not only so fucking attractive but so kind and undeserving of a monstrosity of a human like him. she is, in every place he isn't, a complete and utter success of a person; he's a hurricane where she's whitecaps in the sea, he's loud and abrupt while she is kind and outgoing. maybe they do work well together, hell - they spend enough time on study dates outside of class for him to know that he does really like her. but richie also knows his standoffish, happy-go-lucky and untamed personality paired with his unwillingness to make himself appear vulnerable to most people will probably have a very large impact on... whatever it is that happens with y/n.

because that's really the point, isn't it?

she is stuck with him. bucky beaver, the trashmouth, mr. i-can't-keep-my-trap-shut-for-three-seconds. y/n, the most incredible person in this world, is the kind of person that was designed for richie to admire from afar, as he is so willing to suffer through. because as much as it hurts to watch her and to love her without loving her, it is a thousand times safer for both of them than the inevitable look of disappointment that will befall y/n’s angelic features when she discovers who her burden of a soulmate is.

the thought makes richie choke out a weak sob, sitting up and digging the heel of his palms into his sockets, trying to scrub out the image of himself from his brain. awful, awful, bad.

he takes a long drag from his cigarette and for a brief moment he wonders if, just maybe, she’ll love him back eventually. the thought makes him feel like crying all over again.

huge nose, big teeth, awkwardly skinny and too tall. maybe he's got nice hair, but he sometimes wakes up too late and can only brush his teeth and swipe on deodorant before he's sprinting out his dorm with his pickle socks and stan's old sandals, trudging to class and getting in the way of y/n's future.

but he is her future, after all - how can that be right?

he doesn't have enough time to take another drag from his cig as he hears the glass door open, the noise from the party bursting through the gap in the foundation of the house and sending him back to five minutes, ago, inside. he cranes his neck and can't bring himself to be surprised when he sees her, backlit from the party inside and figure in his mind standing like the only being in the world.

she thinks he looks devastatingly beautiful tonight. she loves the awkwardness in his bones, the way he carries himself with confidence although she's not sure he always really has it. he's wearing some dumb socks again as usual, though they're mostly covered by his black pants and red high-tops this time. it makes her smile softly.

she wants to know him, really know him, as more than just a classmate, a crush, a boy who's friends with stan uris from the floor above her own room. she wants to feel his large hands on her in more than just fleeting greetings, knucks to the shoulder or jaw. she wants the sharp taste of nicotine and mint from those life savers he was always sucking on in her own mouth as he holds her tightly against him, she wants to know everything about him and be with him, even if they aren't somehow destined to be forever. which, she thinks with an array of wild animals tumbling around her chest, they might be.

after all, someone at this party is her soulmate, and she's almost 99.8% sure it's richie. it gives her the most beautiful butterflies she's ever had, even when he stares at her from the deck with glassy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"what’s up, buttercup?” is all she says, in her mind because he's stunned her to near-silence once again by just existing, and in his mind because she is the most perfect being.

he doesn't respond despite being completely charmed by her, because he's breathing in the nicotine and its making his fingers twitch and even though he's sober by now, he thinks he may be tweaking a bit, mostly from the overwhelming set of information that just smacked into his face when y/n walked over into that room.

he watches as suddenly she's dropping herself so she's sat next to him, her legs swinging off the edge of the deck. she eyes his cigarette. "that's so unhealthy, rich." she says softly, teasing but with a lacing of truth behind it that really makes richie itch to never smoke ever again in his life. but he's a stubborn ass, so he instead takes a deeper drag, maintaining eye contact. he can feel one tear slip from his eye and he feels so fucking melodramatic as he does so, but he's at the lowest he's been in a while, so he gives himself a bit of credit.

she reaches out and pulls the cigarette directly from between his lips, sending him a pointed look as she presses it out on the finished wood of the deck. he wipes the tear away when she's not looking. and as she turns back he smirks, unsure what else to do, as he blows the smoke out of his mouth towards her face.

"hi, toots." he says in what he hopes is a normal tone, despite his blotchy and tear-trailed face. she blinks her eyes owlishly at him but just shrugs, "you left a little prematurely back there. what, do i smell that bad?" she jokes. no, he thinks, you smell like orange creamsicles.

it's bittersweet, the irony in her statement. because he knows that she probably knows what she smells like every day, as it's literally tattooed right on the meat of her leg, on display for her and whoever else lucky enough to find themselves being acquainted with the skin of her upper thigh. the thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

maybe if he were feeling a little less in-the-dumps, a little less like a complete and utter disappointment and failure that ruined this sweet girl's life, he would have ribbed her back a bit. you know, grind her gears in typical tozier fashion.

but he's exhausted and so distraught that he can't bring himself to even look at her. "i'm not in the mood" he grumbles, his heart pounding. she frowns, tilting her head.

"okay, what's wrong, richie?" she asks, and it's in that caring voice that she uses that isn't pitying but simply solicitous in nature. her calming force on him is obvious and immediate and his teeth stop rattling around in his head

he wants to scream because she's burning warm and perfect while he's frigid cold inside his body; a wasteland full of broken slinkies and half-formulated 'your mom' jokes that are melded to the crust of him with the tar that's been sucked straight from those damn ciggies. for crying out loud, if he were to so much as touch her, she'd get corrupted.

she notices as he scoots a bit away from her, and her heart hurts. he's so upset, clearly, and yet it hurts her that he can't trust himself or her enough to open up; no fault of his own surely, but heartbreaking all the same. "i care about you, and i really want to be here for you." she says it like there's going to be more, but the words kind of die in her throat as she realizes the extend of her words.

holy shit, she thinks, i'd go to the ends of the earth for him. if richie asked me to, i think i'd probably kill the queen.

"i stubbed my toe, and it really hurts." he says then, and the absurdity of his excuse makes her laugh out loud, head tilting back towards the moon as the bubbly giggles tumble from her lips. she looks at him after and his face is a twisted mix of affection and utter pain, a combination that hurts her to her core but lights a fuel in her that makes her want to help him.

"it's true." he mutters, motioning to his shoe limply, and she looks at his foot, the tip of his converse scribbled in sharpie with the word 'half-brain' and then a bunch of hearts.

"i like your socks." she says absentmindedly, grinning at him as she says it, voice teasing. but the reaction she was hoping for was nowhere to be seen as richie suddenly heaves a hiccup-sob, one so upsetting and quiet that she thinks she misheard it.

but he's keeling over and clutching his face with his hands, shaking his head, and her heart breaks. "richie, honey please tell me what's going on. or i can just sit here, if you'd rather-"

her sentence is cut off with richies own rushed words, expelled from his mouth so quickly that it's almost as if they were trying to escape while his lips tried to hold them in.

"-you're going to have to spend the rest of your life trying to force yourself to love me, and that terrifies me.”

as he says it, his stomach twists itself inwards at his admission and he thinks he's going to be sick. he doesn't deserve you, you're going to resent him for it. she's silent for a few moments, and he doesn't dare look anywhere near her as tears trail down his solemn cheekbones and drop onto the black corduroy that wraps around his jittering legs.

"richie, please, what are you trying to say?" she says quietly, sounding scared, nervous, upset... richie did that. it's his fault. he tilts his head back, his brain buzzing in guilt. "fuck," he says, and it comes out broken, "you... i- you're my soulmate." he says, looking down to where his chest rises and falls almost unnaturally, a consequence of muscle memory being tampered with by the lethally college combination of nicotine, alcohol and marijuana on an empty stomach.

earlier he was afraid that if he opened his mouth too wide he would lose control of his tongue and then the words would come out without him wanting them to, but he knows he's basically sober by now, as sober as y/n is next to him - he's just neurotic, but he doesn't want her to know that, because oh god, what if she hated him for it?

she wouldn't, right? isn't she supposed to find a way to love him?

this was a really stupid idea, but in his mind it was one that had to be done. shutting his eyes, he tugs the sleeve of his left arm upwards, taking a shaky breath. again, it's silent as she reads the words written there. wow, those are the ugliest socks ever.

she stares at the words, and the number above it, then she looks at her own thigh, where the exact same number counts on in time with his.

he wastes no time, though: "-don't worry, doll. i've got it figured out, we can just- maybe we can get yours covered and you don't have to think about it anymore. fi-find someone better, like, oh, bill - he'd treat you nice i think. just- we don't have to think about it, i'm sorry." he says in one breath, not looking at her at all.

"richie, how can i be yours if you're not mine?" she says thickly because she's fighting off tears wondering how someone so incredible and full of life could feel so undeserving.

"you can't want me, you can't." he insists, not looking at her as she gapes at him because if he were to look at her expression he may lose it. it's quiet again in their own little world here, the air silent and numbing as y/n takes a breath.

"oh my god, wait richie how are we this stupid?" she asks, perking up and lightly slapping his arm. he looks at her in shock as she begins to laugh, "we've been alone together so many times. how did we not notice?" she asks, and he chuckles a bit, shrugging.

"maybe we're not the sharpest crayons in the drawer, toots. all i'm sayin' is that i figured it out first." he says cheekily, and secretly both of them are shocked to see how quickly they fell together, as if the knowledge that they were made for each other made all their insecurities fall away.

her face softens again. "you know, i saw my timer counting tonight and i was hoping more than anything that you'd be here. that we'd be-" she adds softly, a hand landing lightly on richie's thigh, sending licks of flames up his body. she takes a breath and restarts. "do you know how fucking bad i wanted it to be you?"

and just like that, y/n unintentionally provides a luscious mix of words and tricks that fill him with barely enough confidence to let him bet when he knows he should fold.

what's life without a little risk?

he meets her eyes for the first time in a few minutes and hers are large and hopeful as they wait patiently for him to give her something. but he still can't speak without running his mouth, so instead he cups her cheeks. her lips part slowly and he stares in awe at her raw beauty, unable to hold it in longer.

he presses his lips to her quickly and to her it feels like he is trying to prove something. it makes her heart soar as he comes alive against her, pressing as enthusiastically as she is into him. he tastes, as she'd guessed, like nicotine but mostly like a mint and it makes her grin as he pulls back.

"is this okay?" he's asking then, his thumb soothing over her cheek sweetly and giving her the same butterflies she gets when he smiles; the very same butterflies that release when he says anything to her, when he comes to her dorm for a study date with two red bulls in his hand, and when she realized their tattoos beat the same.

"yeah, of course." she whispers against his lips, the feeling of his teasing lightly making her sniffle. she presses their lips together again, this time warmer, more comfortably and his hands move to her hips and tug her closer, her hands winding to his neck as his own hands explore her body, caressing her sides gently. he pulls back and holds her softly.

"your hair smells nice." he says sheepishly, and she grins so widely she thinks she may split in two. her heart flutters as she looks into his eyes, finding nothing but love. "orange creamsicle, huh?" she asks with pink cheeks, and he laughs lightly, nodding his head. "best smell ever, babe."

"you make me happy." she says it onto his lips again, and the shiver that runs down his spine is a feeling he wouldn't mind feeling forever. his heart soars because he believes her, he trusts her. she wouldn't lie to him.

"we're so dramatic, aren't we?" richie jokes, his walls sliding back up a bit, but as y/n cuddles into his chest, head against his beating heart as she presses kisses to his neck, he realizes she accepts him.

"yeah, well. we're made for each other, aren't we rich?" she asks gently as his hand falls to brush over her thigh, right over the words. "that's right, toots." he says softly, looking down at her hairline softly, still in disbelief that it worked out for him. she turns to look at him, cheeks dusted a bit as she leans up to press a kiss on his lips.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings​ @stenbrozier​ @simplesammyx​ @dickology64​ @clownsloveyou​ @baby-yoda-a @moon-shine-baby​ @daughter-of-the-stars11 @lets-vibe-bro​ @trashedfortozier​ @oceandog13​ @finnskindofwoman​  @kait-tozier​ @upamongthestarss​ @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs 

[grapesodatozier]

Dreamboat

summary: Richie’s his pining mess self, and it only gets worse when he has sex dreams about Eddie every night for a week. Eddie asks him why he’s been avoiding him all week, love confessions and smut ensues~

tags/warnings: pining-typical angst and guilt in the beginning, but it’s all resolved by the end! also, this is top!eddie/bottom!richie bc i haven’t written that dynamic in forever, gotta balance the scales lol

this didn’t need to be 7k words, but it is lmao enjoy

(also, if you wanna be taken off or added to my taglist, lmk! i have one for reddie fics and one for all of my fics, so please specify which one you’d like to be added to. thanks!)

read on ao3 or below!

notsfw below the cut!

Richie could not believe this was happening a-fucking-gain. This was the fourth time this week that he’d woken up hard after a dream about Eddie. He ran his hands over his face and groaned, his skin burning from his face down his chest. Guilt sank low in his stomach as he shut off his alarm and stared up at the ceiling of his dorm room. 

Guilt, and a sizable helping of heartbreak.

It had felt so real. He could still feel dream-Eddie’s fingertips ghosting over his skin. He could feel his tongue teasing over Richie’s own, so soft and warm and the perfect balance of rough and smooth. He could feel Eddie grinding against him. He could picture so vividly Eddie dropping to his knees, a sweet smirk on his face as he—

No. Fuck, fuck, no. Richie breathed in sharply through his nose and scrunched his eyes shut, willing his aching boner to go down. The emotional come down helped, realizing he would never get to touch Eddie like that, would never get to know what he felt like, how he liked to be touched. He tried to ignore it, he really did, he’d been trying to get over it for years. But how was he supposed to get over someone like Eddie? Richie had never felt his heart flip like it did around Eddie. He’d realized one day in the seventh grade that Eddie’s laugh made him feel different than anyone else’s, warmer. He wanted to know that Eddie was okay all the time, and he selfishly wanted to be the one to make him happy. His heart sang every time Eddie chose to sit next to him. The first time Eddie rested his head on his shoulder Richie thought he was gonna vomit. But, like, in a good way. 

So yeah, being in love with Eddie was par for the course. It was a part of Richie as much as his freckles and knobby elbows. But these dreams… He’d had a few before, scattered here and there across the years, but he’d managed to black them out. One or two flukes was okay, right? He’d had a sex dream or two about Bill before. Hell, he’d had sex dreams about a cashier he saw once at a Burger King. It was fine. The mind was a weird thing.

But four in a week? That was different. It made him feel like a fucking creep; he made his own skin crawl. And they were so vivid. How could he look at Eddie now? How could he let Eddie touch him, not knowing what Richie had dreamt of those hands doing? 

He bit his lip as he thought about it, the most confusing mix of arousal and shame blooming in his chest. He only came back to his senses when he tasted copper on his tongue. He did his best to shove the thoughts aside as he swung his legs over the side of his bed, halfheartedly tossing his comforter back toward the top of his bed before deciding to smooth it down more neatly. He took another deep breath and ran his hand through his hair, trying to collect himself enough to pick out an outfit for the day. He just needed to locate a shirt, boxers, and pants. And socks. God, why did that feel difficult?

Showering didn’t help clear his mind. Cocoa puffs didn’t help. Not even his acting class could help; his teacher just had them lying on yoga mats that smelled like disinfectant and stale rubber doing breathing exercises for the first half of class, which did absolutely nothing to calm him down or take his mind off of the fact that it was Friday, which meant movie night in Bill and Mike’s room. Nights when Richie and Eddie “fought” over who got to sit on the giant Yogibo before settling into it together, nice and dizzyingly close. 

He managed to avoid sitting next to Eddie at lunch just by luck of the draw. But Eddie was still there laughing harder than anyone else at Richie’s jokes and trying to toss things into Richie’s cup without him noticing, and it still made Richie glow, he still pretended to not notice who was throwing things at him, playing along with Eddie’s innocent shrugs and smiles until he “finally” caught him, which in turn made Eddie burst into giggles that were so precious they made Richie want to cry. And then after lunch Eddie came up to Richie and touched him on the arm, making him jump like he’d touched a hot stove. 

“Jesus, you good?” Eddie asked with a confused smile.

“Yeah, must be the static electricity,” Richie said, fumbling over his words, “or the fluorescents.” 

Eddie gave him a look, but he was still smiling. “Okay, that was bad, even for you.” Richie gave a small laugh. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Do you wanna go to the Auburn to study? This stupid fucking poetry class is melting my brain, so I think you owe me a scone as compensation for making me sign up for it.”

Richie’s heart ached. There was nothing he wanted more than to fuck around with Eddie at one of the too-small tables at their favorite little coffee shop downtown. But then he was looking at Eddie’s lips and the guilt was rising in him again like bile. Or maybe it was actual bile. Richie clicked his tongue. “Sorry, you know I’d love to treat my little muffin to a scone, but I’ve got a paper to write and you know they turn the wifi off Friday to Sunday.” 

The disappointment on Eddie’s face made Richie’s chest ache. “Okay, well, I’ll see you tonight then.” 

“Wear those panties I like,” he winked, his mouth getting ahead of him as usual. God, Richie wanted to kick himself. And maybe puke. But Eddie left him with a smile and a playful shove, so Richie figured he wasn’t in too much trouble. 

Richie, Stan, and Patty had been tasked with getting the pizza that night, so the three of them showed up to Bill and Mike’s after everyone else. Richie’s heart did flips when he saw Eddie lying sprawled across the giant bean bag, just like he always did when he beat Richie to it. He blushed when Eddie met his eyes and beamed, leaping up and bounding over to him. He nearly choked on his tongue when Eddie draped himself over his arm, having to get up on his tiptoes to rest his chin on Richie’s shoulder. Richie instinctively crouched down a bit to accommodate him. 

“Did you get barbecue chicken?” Eddie asked, batting his eyes.

“I’m offended you would even have to ask,” Richie grinned as he opened the box. The others were scrambling around the boxes, trying to get slices of their choice, but Richie’s long arms gave him an advantage.

“Will you get me a slice?” Eddie asked.

“And let you get to the Yogibo first? I may be pretty but I’m not stupid.” Richie grinned as he lifted his plate far above Eddie’s head and spun around, finally able to breathe once he no longer had to worry about the electric feeling of Eddie leaning against him.

“You’re gonna regret that, Tozier,” Eddie huffed, but he could never hide his smile. 

“Ooh, last names,” Richie grinned as he plopped himself down on the beanbag, fully spread eagle. “I’m scared now.”

Eddie stuck his tongue out at him before ducking under Bill’s arm to get at the pizza he was going for. Richie really tried not to linger on how cute that was. 

However, it was becoming quickly apparent that Richie was not going to be able to avoid those thoughts, as well as his less savory ones. As soon as Eddie got his pizza, he was standing over Richie with one hand on his hip. Richie made sure to look at his face and not his thighs, which his movie night sleep shorts left on full display. Richie didn’t dare let himself look down, because right then he was wondering if he’d be able to see up Eddie’s shorts from this angle. God, he bet he could. “I was sitting there,” Eddie groused. 

Normally Richie would’ve replied with something crude, would’ve grabbed his crotch with an obnoxious wink and said, “I’ve got a seat all warmed up for you right here, baby.” But now his stomach twisted at that, and when Richie managed to stop himself from saying something he struggled to come up with something else. So all he could manage was a halfheartedly sarcastic, “Here?” 

He pointed to what he thought was the beanbag, but Eddie apparently had something else in mind. “Yeah,” he smiled before dropping himself into Richie’s lap with a grace and bounce that left Richie breathless. “Right here.” 

Eddie looked so smug, and he was on Richie’s lap, and Richie could feel the situation getting real bad for him real fast. So, setting the slices of pizza aside so as to not earn himself any disappointed looks or lectures from Bill and Mike about respecting and maintaining the cleanliness of their space, he grabbed Eddie by the waist, doing his best to ignore his own rushing blood and the amused look on Eddie’s face. “Alright, short stack, you ever try asking a guy to move over?” With Eddie lifted, Richie scooted over to one side of the bean bag, then plopped Eddie on the other. Richie couldn’t decipher the look Eddie was giving him, but it somehow was making him even hotter under the collar than Eddie sitting in his lap had. 

Richie thought he was safe when Eddie huffed and grabbed his pizza, but he barely had three seconds to breathe before Eddie was wriggling his way across the bean bag to press himself against Richie. “You’re taking up the whole thing,” he grumbled as he tucked himself against Richie. Richie could not have been closer to the edge of the bean bag, but he didn’t have the breath in his lungs to say that. Every time he breathed he could smell Eddie’s shampoo, clean and fresh and somewhat minty. Richie shovelled his pizza into his mouth so he wouldn’t have to respond. And to give himself something to do with his arms other than wrapping them around Eddie and pulling him closer. 

Richie could not for the life of him focus on the movie. He felt like he was dropping on a rollercoaster, but it had been twenty minutes and the feeling hadn’t stopped. Eddie kept shifting, but never away from him, and Richie was going to lose his mind. Then, Eddie leaned up to whisper something to Richie, and he couldn’t even process what he was saying, just that the feeling of Eddie’s breath warm and soft on his neck was going to make him pop a boner. Eddie’s face was so close to his, and his hand was on Richie’s chest, and Richie couldn’t stop seeing his dreams playing on repeat. 

Eddie’s tongue in his mouth.

Eddie’s hands running down from his chest, to his stomach, lower…

Eddie on his knees, Eddie in Richie’s lap, Eddie on top of him, inside—

“Well!” Richie exclaimed, rolling off the Yogibo with the grace of a newborn calf, popping up to the fond annoyance of his friends, “I do say, nature calls, so pip pip and tally-ho, off I must go to the loo.”

“Seriously?” Eddie groaned.

“Hey, you’re the one who’s always telling me to stay hydrated!” Richie retorted. “You’ve only got yourself to blame for this waterfall.” Really? he thought to himself. Yeah, that’s gonna get him to like you. Nice one, dumbass.

“You know you really don’t have to announce that,” Bev snickered, throwing Mike and Ikes at him until he reached the door.

“Alright, alright, tough crowd. Try not to miss me too much.”

He could hear Stan yelling something about not getting lost on his way back as he closed the door, finding himself alone in the hallway of Bill and Mike’s dorm.

God, fuck, he was so fucked. He had to take himself on a walk up and down the hallway just to calm himself down. Eddie made him so hot, like he was burning up. And he’d thought his feelings were messy before he started having the dreams. Eddie whispering to him like that, touching him like that… He knew when he got back in the room that he couldn’t do it. He felt a guilt heavy in his stomach when he plopped down next to Bill, squeezing himself in obnoxiously, but he knew he couldn’t be next to Eddie just then, not without crawling out of his skin. 

He ignored the weird look Bill gave him, the weird looks everyone gave him. He ignored the way Eddie kept glancing over at him, looking so small sitting on the bean bag by himself. He ignored the aching in his chest when Eddie asked Ben and Bev to walk him home instead of Richie. He told himself this was better as he walked home alone, that yeah, he missed Eddie’s banter, he missed the sleepy way he would bump into Richie, but it was better this way, better to get some distance and let the dreams peter out. Maybe if he didn’t touch Eddie, maybe if he didn’t see him for a few days he’d get his lips out of his mind, maybe he could forget the way Eddie’s skin felt against his own, and then the dreams would stop. Things could go back to normal if he could just stay away for a bit.

But that night only brought another dream, one filled with moans and giggles and Eddie’s hands and tongue all over him, inside of him. Another dream that had his blood rushing to his cock. 

He woke up hard and grinding against his mattress. His mind still lingering in the dream, the sensations still fresh in his mind, warming his skin, Richie rolled over onto his back and desperately shoved his hands down his boxers. He stroked himself tight and fast and came into his fist in under a minute, his toes curling and his breath coming out in gasping moans. It took a minute for his mind to clear. Once it did, his blissful haze shattered pretty abruptly. “Fuck,” he muttered, reaching for the roll of toilet paper on his desk to wipe his hand off with. He tossed the wad at his trash can with way more force than necessary before angrily throwing his sheets and comforter off of himself. He needed a fucking shower. A cold one. 

He didn’t get why the fuck this kept happening. Like, fuck, the dreams were amazing, sure. But Eddie was never gonna touch him like that. He could dream and fantasize all he wanted, but that was all he was ever gonna get.

He dodged Saturday brunch, grabbing a cinnamon roll from the dining hall and eating it in his room alone. He ignored Bill’s text asking if he wanted to talk about the night before. He holed up in his room and threw himself into the essay he had to write, hoping that that would be enough to make him forget. But finding quotes didn’t exactly scratch the same itch, and his mind kept drifting to Eddie, always Eddie, whispering in his ear, touching his chest on the bean bag the night before. There was no song he could blast loud enough to get it out of his mind.

It was around three when Richie heard an insistent knocking at his door. He paused the music and groaned, figuring Bill had come by to talk to him. But when he opened the door, Eddie was standing there with his arms crossed. Richie’s heart stopped. “Hey,” he said, “wasn’t expecting you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

But Eddie was already pushing past him into his room. Richie closed the door; the pout on Eddie’s face made him figure this was about to be a door closed kind of conversation. Which made him want to vomit, but here they were. Eddie took a breath, paused, then finally blurted out, “Did I do something wrong?”

Richie’s head was spinning. “What?”

“You’ve been weird all week.” Shitshitshitshit. “You didn’t wanna study together, you sat next to Bill last night, you haven’t called me Eds in days—” Eddie cut himself, his voice breaking and eyes falling to the floor. Richie’s heart was beating so hard he was pretty sure he’d be able to see bruises on his chest in a few hours. “So, what, are you mad at me? ‘Cause whatever I did, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what I did, I don’t know why you’re avoiding me like this.”

“Eddie,” Richie started, stepping toward him. He reached his hand out, but let it drop. He was so torn. Eddie looked so small, so sad and confused, all Richie wanted to do was scoop him up into his arms and make everything better. But how could he touch him? How could he make this better? How could he explain what was wrong without scaring Eddie off? “Fuck, Eddie, I don’t know what to tell you.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because Eddie’s eyes started filling with tears. “So, what? You just don’t like me anymore?”

“What? No, fuck no, Eddie, jesus, I love you!” Richie blurted. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to run out the door, to get the fuck out of there, to not say anything more. But fuck it, he couldn’t see Eddie cry and do nothing. Grossing him out was better than hurting him, right? Eddie didn’t say anything, but he wiped a tear away and stood up a little taller, his eyes wide, urging Richie to go on. Richie took a tentative step closer before deciding against it and leaning against his bed. “Fuck, this is so awkward. Um. So, okay, so I’ve been acting weird.”

“Yeah?” Eddie prompted, turning toward him. He started to move closer, then apparently thought better of it. 

“And I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” Richie ran his hands over his face, pushing his glasses up then readjusting them. “Fuck,” he said with a humorless laugh. “So um. So you’ve kinda been livin’ rent free in my dreams this week.”

Eddie gave him a confused look. 

God he was gonna have to spell it out, wasn’t he? “Like…” Richie mimed jerking himself off. Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Like, every fucking night this week.”

“Oh.” Eddie’s cheeks were pink.

“Yeah. So, you know. Kinda makes it hard to be around you knowing I’m such a fucking creep.” Richie gave a sheepish smile. 

Eddie gave him a long suffering look.

“Sorry, that was supposed to come out a lot funnier than it sounded—”

“Richie,” Eddie sighed, walking over to him. Richie straightened up, his heart in his throat as Eddie stood right in front of him. “You’re not a creep for having some wet dreams.” He gave him a smile and smacked him playfully on the chest. “I can’t believe that’s the whole reason you’ve been a dick this week.”

“Yeah, but it’s different,” Richie said before he could stop himself, thoughts flooding out on their own. 

“Why? Because we’re friends? I mean, sure, maybe every night for a week is kind of a lot, but I can’t say I’m not flattered.” He smiled then, but it softened, and he took Richie’s hand in his, running his thumb comfortingly over Richie’s skin. “I’m definitely not creeped out.”

You have to tell him, Richie’s mind screamed at him. You have to fucking tell him. If you don’t tell him now you never will. “Not just because we’re friends,” he whispered, his voice shaking. He tried to slip his hand out of Eddie’s, but Eddie just held him tighter as he looked into Richie’s eyes, waiting for more of an explanation. “I’m kinda, like… in love with you.” He waved his free hand in a ta-da motion, hoping to god that he could joke his way into making this less painful for both of them. Eddie’s eyes widened, but he didn’t let go, he didn’t move or say anything, and fuck, what was Richie supposed to with that? Fill the fucking silence was his go-to, so he started rambling, but nothing that came out was funny. “So, it’s like, the dreams are shit I’ve thought of, y’know? And I feel really fucking gross, because like, I’d do it. And I didn’t want you to find that out and think that I was taking advantage of you or whatever by letting you cuddle me and shit, because, fuck, when you were whispering to me last night, and pressing against me, I want that, y’know? You were gonna give me a fucking heart attack, and that’s weird, that’s gross, and I didn’t want you to be mad, or to leave me—” He broke on that and had to bite his lip to keep himself from crying.

“Richie,” Eddie sighed, pulling him down into his arms. Richie collected himself as Eddie held him, slowly bringing his arms around Eddie, trying to process what was happening. 

“You’re not mad?” he asked as he pulled away. Eddie cupped his face, and Richie couldn’t help but lean into his hand.

“Why would I be mad? All you’ve done is love me back.”

Richie’s eyebrows lifted hopefully. “Back?”

“Yes, back,” Eddie grinned. “I love you, too. I’m in love with you, too.”

“Fuck, for real?”

Eddie giggled and leaned up on his toes, bringing his lips to Richie’s. Richie placed his hands lightly on Eddie’s waist, kissing him back softly, making sure this was all happening, that touching him like this was okay. Once he was sure he wasn’t being pranked, he wrapped his arms around Eddie and pulled him closer, kissing him deeply, hungrily. God, he’d needed this for so many years, but he never could’ve prepared himself for how amazing it would feel. Eddie’s lips were so soft, so intentional with every move, and Richie could feel him smiling as he pulled him closer into him. Eddie’s arms were wrapped around his neck, their chests were pressed together, still Richie needed more, needed him closer. He needed to satiate the years and years of pining. 

“God, Eddie, Eds, my love, I love you so much.” He felt breathless and giddy to finally say it.

“I love you, too, Rich,” Eddie beamed, kissing the corner of Richie’s mouth, then his cheek, then his jaw. Richie moaned as Eddie pressed a kiss to the pulse point where Richie’s jaw met his neck and ran his hand over Richie’s chest, just like he had the night before. “So these dreams… what happened in them?” Richie shuddered at how low Eddie’s voice had gotten. “What was I doing in them?”

“Shit, what weren’t you doing?” Richie laughed breathlessly. “Sucking me off on your knees, stroking me and kissing my neck, fingering me, fucking me…”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked, his eyes sparkling. Richie gasped as Eddie’s hand travelled lower, teasing over Richie’s belt. “You want me to fuck you?” 

“Fuck, yes.” Richie’s breath trembled over the words. He had to grab the bed behind him to steady himself when Eddie’s palm pressed against Richie’s cock, which was quickly growing hard under his touch. At the same time, Eddie nuzzled his face against Richie’s neck, kissing the sensitive skin there. RIchie couldn’t help but moan and roll his hips into Eddie’s hand. “Eds, fuck…” he groaned. Eddie kept kissing his neck, his lips wet and warm and soft, and he tightened his grip on Richie a bit, the outline of Richie’s hard cock clear through his jeans by this point. 

“Is this what you want, baby?” Eddie murmured against his skin. Before Richie could gather himself to respond, Eddie was swiftly dropping to his knees. His brown eyes were wide and full of faux innocence, glittering with mischief as he looked up at Richie. “Is this what you dreamt about?”

“Yes, fuck, oh my god,” Richie whined, his voice thin and already so desperate as Eddie rubbed his face against the tent in Richie’s jeans. “Please, please, will you suck me, baby?”

“Wow, you’re so polite when you’re turned on,” Eddie mused. Then, with a wink, “I’ll keep that in mind.” God, Richie was excited to find out what Eddie meant by that, but for now he was fully occupied with watching Eddie undo his belt, then the button on his jeans, then his zipper. Richie got with the program as Eddie tugged his jeans down and stripped his shirt off, tossing it aside as he stepped out of his jeans, leaving him in his boxer briefs. He giggled at the exasperated look on Eddie’s face. “Where the fuck did you find Hello Kitty boxers?”

“What, like it’s hard?” Richie said. “You can find anything on the internet, my love.”

Eddie shook his head, but he was smiling. “I really love you,” he sighed, leaning in and pressing kisses to Richie’s stomach. He took his time trailing his lips down. “God, you’re so hot,” Eddie murmured against his skin, nuzzling into the patch of dark hair just above his waistband. “Every time your fucking shirt rides up I get half hard, can’t believe I’m finally getting my mouth on you.” Richie cursed as Eddie ran his lips over the outline of Richie’s cock. 

“Fuck, Eds, please.” Richie had one hand still supporting himself on his bed, but the other was now in Eddie’s hair. “I need you so fucking bad.” Richie felt his breath being knocked out of his chest when Eddie looked up and met his gaze as he sucked on the head of his cock through the fabric. But this time it was a fun breathlessness, the best kind of breathlessness. Feeling himself leaking, his cock throbbing, Richie let out another, “Eddie baby, please,” genuinely whining.

Eddie gave him a satisfied grin as he finally pulled Richie’s boxers down and let his cock bob up against his stomach. “Fuck, you have such a nice cock,” Eddie marvelled. Richie gasped as Eddie wrapped his fingers around him, stroking him. “Did you touch yourself after your dreams? Did you make yourself come while thinking about me?” Richie couldn’t believe Eddie, his Eddie Kaspbrak was talking to him like this. It made his head spin.

“Yes, oh fuck,” Richie groaned as Eddie lapped at the head of his cock, his tongue all pink and warm and wet. He pressed it flat against the base of Richie’s shaft and licked him all the way to the tip, never breaking eye contact as he did. “God, it feels so much better when you do it.”

“I know, baby,” Eddie purred. Richie let out a strangled moan as Eddie tongued at the sensitive bundle of nerves under the head of Richie’s cock. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

Richie had barely gotten out another, “Please,” when Eddie wrapped his lips around him and bobbed his head forward. Taking him in his mouth. Sucking on the head, making his knees shake. “Eds, fuck, oh my god,” Richie moaned. His eyes fluttered shut as Eddie took him further down his throat, but he didn’t wanna miss this. He’d already messed up Eddie’s hair, and his cheeks were pink and hollowed as he ran his tongue along Richie’s shaft, as he moved his lips over him. Eddie looked him in the eyes as he slid off with a popping sound, clearly happy with himself as he swirled his tongue around the head of Richie’s cock. To Eddie’s credit, the triumphant smirk was well-earned; Richie was already a whimpering mess, his knees trembling. “Eds, want you, please.”

“What do you want, baby?” Eddie asked. His voice was soft as he covered Richie’s cock in kisses that were so sweet in the filthiest way. 

“Wanna touch you,” Richie breathed. “Please, I need to feel you.”

Eddie groaned and pressed one more heated, sloppy kiss to Richie’s hip before standing up and bringing their lips together. Richie leaned into it, happily pliant in Eddie’s hands. He was still chasing the feeling of Eddie’s lips against his own when Eddie pulled back to pull his shirt off over his head.

“Oh fuck,” Richie muttered, staring at Eddie’s chest. Richie’s entire body burned as he drank in Eddie’s skin, the toned muscles underneath. Was he really allowed to look at him like this? Was he really allowed to let his gaze linger as long as he wanted?

His hesitation must have shown on his face. Softly, Eddie said, “Touch me.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Richie joked, but his voice shook, and his movements were slow as he brought his hands to Eddie’s chest, sliding them down to his waist and pulling him in. He saw Eddie grin, then felt it against his lips. Richie melted into it. God, Eddie’s chest felt so nice pressed against his own. He was so warm, his heartbeat right against Richie’s. As much as Richie’s heart was racing, he felt so incredibly safe. And that safety and warmth flooded into heat as Eddie shifted Richie’s hands down, guiding them to his belt. “Fuck,” Richie shuddered, fumbling to undo Eddie’s belt. He couldn’t get his hands to stop shaking.

“I got it,” Eddie giggled, gently pushing Richie’s hands away. Richie watched in awe as Eddie rid himself of his jeans, leaving himself in tented Calvin Klein boxer briefs. 

The fumbling and giggling actually helped Richie relax—enough to laugh as he pressed his lips to Eddie’s neck and palmed him through the black fabric. “You are such a brand whore.”

“Fuck you,” Eddie laughed breathlessly, bucking into Richie’s touch.

“Oh, you better, Mr. Gucci,” Richie winked. Eddie shook his head and brought his lips to Richie’s. He slid one hand down and took a hold of Richie’s wrist, guiding his movements. 

“Don’t worry, baby, we’ll get there.” Richie groaned at the low tone in Eddie’s voice; he had no idea he could sound like that. He dipped his hand past Eddie’s waistband and wrapped his hand around Eddie’s cock, unable to wait any longer. He moaned as soon as he felt him, his cock hard and smooth and warm in his hand. Kissing his neck, he stroked Eddie slowly, running his fingers over him. “Fuck, that feels so good,” Eddie moaned. “Just like that, baby, yes, fuck.” While Eddie pushed his boxers down and stepped out of them, Richie spit into his palm, wrapping it around Eddie’s cock as soon as he was ready, getting it wet. They both groaned at the slick, smooth way Richie’s hand slid over Eddie. Richie’s chest bloomed with warmth as Eddie leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Richie’s shoulder, pressing kisses to Richie’s chest. 

“You are so fucking hot,” Richie said, pressing kisses to Eddie’s hair. Then, feeling emboldened by the way Eddie moaned and rocked his hips into his fist, he continued, “Can’t fucking wait to feel you inside of me.” 

“Fuck, I love you,” Eddie groaned. He pulled Richie into him, kissing him deeply, messily, desperately. Stroking him faster, Richie kissed back, matching his passion. “Oh my god, fuck, Richie, get on the bed.”

“Holy shit, yeah, okay,” Richie breathed, scrambling to do as Eddie said. At first he sat up, unsure where to put himself. But Eddie made it clear what he wanted as he climbed between Richie’s legs and pressed his hand against Richie’s chest, guiding him to lie back. With the way Eddie draped himself over Richie’s body and brought their lips together, running his hands over Richie’s thighs, he really truly could not believe this was his life. He moaned into Eddie’s mouth as their cocks rubbed together. “I love you,” he panted as Eddie kissed down his neck. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Eddie looked up at him and gave him a smile, pressing a kiss to his lips, one much softer than his previous ones. “So have I.”. Running his hands appreciatively over Richie’s body, he asked, “You sure about this?”

“Fuck yes,” Richie said, nodding enthusiastically. 

Eddie giggled and kissed him again. “Do you have lube and condoms?” 

“Top drawer of my desk.” As Eddie leaned over to grab them, Richie said, “God, this is actually happening, wow, okay, fuck. I’m clean by the way, like STD-free and everything, and also in the shower earlier—”

“Hey.” Richie shut up as Eddie stroked his hair. “Relax, okay? I’m gonna take care of you. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.” Richie nodded, but that wasn’t why he’d been rambling. Luckily, Eddie knew him, and he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to Richie’s lips and told him, “You’re my best friend, you know that?” Richie let out a small breath as Eddie kissed the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, then his chest. “You are so gorgeous.”

Richie grinned. “So what you’re saying is you only like me because I’m hot?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yes.” He cut off any response by spreading Richie’s legs. 

“Oh, fuck,” Richie moaned, happily going where Eddie guided him. The satisfied smirk on Eddie’s face made Richie glow. 

He watched, enraptured, as Eddie poured the lube onto his fingers and spread it around. He watched Eddie’s eyes track his own movements as he brought his fingers down between Richie’s legs before looking up at him. “You ready?”

“Hell yeah,” Richie said, his grin wobbly from how breathless Eddie already had him. Eddie snickered at that before circling Richie’s entrance and slowly pressing his finger inside of him. Richie gasped, his head falling back to the pillow with a broken moan. He tensed at first, but soon relaxed as he felt Eddie work him open.

“You look so good,” Eddie murmured, almost as if to himself. It made Richie blush. He really wants this, he thought to himself, He really wants me. He settled comfortably into that reassurance as Eddie pressed kisses to Richie’s thighs and hips as he worked him open, thrusting his finger in and out gently. When Richie began rocking his hips with Eddie’s movements, seeking more, Eddie complied and thrust into him faster, soon adding a second finger. Richie moaned at the stretch and spread his legs wider. “Do you like that?” Eddie asked. 

Richie could tell from his voice that he knew the answer. Still, he breathed a blissed out, “Yes,” and groaned as Eddie thrust even deeper inside of him. It felt so amazing, Eddie’s fingers filling him up, sliding in and out of him. Just as he was settling into the rhythm, his mind pleasantly warm and fuzzy, Eddie curled his fingers, sending waves of electric pleasure through Richie. “Oh my fuck—” Richie cried, arching off the bed. He twisted his fingers in the sheets as Eddie’s fingers continued to graze over his prostate, making him buzz, the pleasure so deep and so intense.

And Eddie had the nerve to fucking giggle. “What? Does that feel good?”

“God, yes, yes, oh my god, oh my fucking god, fuck,” Richie answered, his words a string of broken whimpers. As he continued massaging that sweet spot, Eddie leaned forward and licked a stripe up the underside of Richie’s cock, making him practically scream. “Eds! Fuck, fuck, not gonna—shit oh my god, I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that.” 

Eddie looked up at him, feigning innocence. “You want me to stop?” Richie was so conflicted as Eddie licked the tip of his cock in short, light strokes, making his cock throb as he lapped up the precome dripping down the head. It was fucking heaven, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out if Eddie kept going, and he needed to feel Eddie inside of him. So, reluctantly, he nodded. “Why? What do you want?”

“God, fuck me, please,” Richie whined, shamelessly impatient and petulant. 

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Eddie said. He pressed slow kisses to Richie’s hip as he slowly pulled his fingers out. Richie sat up on his elbows to watch as Eddie rolled the condom onto his cock.

“Now that’s hot,” Richie said as Eddie poured lube onto his cock and stroked it, spreading the lube around. Eddie grinned and leaned down to kiss him. Richie ran his fingers through Eddie’s hair, holding him close a moment, really feeling his lips, the way he kissed him. He melted when Eddie pulled back and nuzzled his nose against Richie’s. He straightened up a bit then and lined his cock up with Richie’s hole. Eddie gently took Richie’s chin in his hands, guiding his gaze up to meet his.

“Are you ready?”

Looking into Eddie’s eyes, warm and brown and more familiar than the back of his own hand, Richie had never been more ready for anything in his life. “Eddie, my love, I’ve been ready for this for years.” His voice was soft as he reached out and stroked Eddie’s arm. “I am so in love with you and so, so, very horny.” 

“Richie,” Eddie sighed, an exasperated but amused grin on his face. “I love you, too.” Any other words Richie might’ve said died on his tongue as he felt the head of Eddie’s cock begin to stretch him open. He held Richie’s hips still with one hand and intertwined his fingers with Richie’s with the other. “Tell me if it’s too much, or if there’s anything you don’t like, okay?” Richie nodded, squeezing Eddie’s hand. He took a deep breath as Eddie moved his hips forward, going slow, letting Richie adjust. He needed a few moments to even out his breathing and get used to the sensation; as amazing as it felt, it was a lot. Soon, however, he was pressing his lips to Eddie’s knuckles and asking him to move. He gasped as Eddie pulled his hips back, but all of the tension flowed out of his body as Eddie pushed back in. It felt so natural, having Eddie inside of him, being connected like this. He could feel every nerve in his body sighing out a finally. “How does it feel?” Eddie asked. His voice was soft as he slowly, shallowly rocked his hips. 

With a lovestruck grin on his face, Richie answered, “Perfect.” 

A look crossed Eddie’s face then, one full of love and overflowing feelings. Richie only had a second to commit it to memory before Eddie leaned down and kissed him, kissed him like he wanted to press all of those feelings into Richie’s lips to make him understand them. Richie had a feeling he would never forget what Eddie looked like in that moment, how it felt when he kissed him like that. 

He whimpered when he felt Eddie tease his tongue over his, somehow gentle and so, so dirty at the same time. Eddie groaned and leaned in further, deepening the kiss and pressing his cock even deeper into Richie. Richie moaned at how good that felt; it was so much, almost too much, but he needed more. He rolled his hips as Eddie kissed him, pressing small moans into Eddie’s mouth every time his cock brushed against Eddie’s toned stomach. Searching for something to hold onto, something to ground him, his hands ran up and down Eddie’s back, gripped at his shoulders. It felt so amazing to have him so close, to be able to linger and really appreciate the feeling of Eddie’s soft, warm skin under his hands. “I’ve wanted to hear you moan like that for me for so long,” Eddie murmured, kissing along Richie’s neck, making him shudder. 

“Feels so good,” Richie breathed, his ability to string a complete sentence together already faltering.

“Yeah?” Eddie said, smirk evident in his voice. Richie moaned and threw his head back as Eddie picked up the pace of his thrusts. Hands sliding down to Richie’s hips, holding him up a bit as he fucked him harder, Eddie told him, “Fuck, you look so good like this. You feel so amazing.” Richie’s skin burned under the praise. He went to cover his face with his arm, not used to being complimented like that, but Eddie caught him by the arm and brought his lips to the inside of Richie’s wrist. He couldn’t believe how good such a simple touch felt. It had him bucking his hips into the air, his cock begging for attention as pleasure bloomed deep inside of him. It had him whimpering for more.

“Harder,” he begged. “Please, please fuck me.” With a hungry look, Eddie leaned over and pinned Richie’s wrist above his head and began fucking Richie hard and deep and fast, just like he’d asked for. Richie’s eyes went wide as he let out a broken, “Yes.” He threw his head back and screwed his eyes shut, really feeling every thrust. Eddie was fucking him so good, filling his room with the sound of skin on skin and Richie’s desperate moans of yesyesyesrightthereohfuckyesyesfuckyes. As he opened his eyes to find Eddie’s hooded and trained on his face, Richie couldn’t help but let out a dreamy, “I love you.”

Eddie groaned and pressed himself against Richie, chest to chest, his face buried in Richie’s neck. “I love you so much.” Richie wrapped his arms and legs around Eddie and held him tight. Eddie rolled his hips, burying his cock so deep inside Richie before pounding into him hard and fast again. With the way Eddie was fucking him, Richie’s cock sliding between them where they pressed against one another, Richie was getting close fast. It was all so much in the best way. He buried his face in Eddie’s shoulder, biting down. His muffled moans were punctuated by every thrust. He raked his nails down Eddie’s back as he felt his pleasure building, coiling within him. He was right on the edge, and he wanted to live in that intensity forever. Sinking further into his desperate haze, he rocked his hips, making his cock throb. 

“Eds,” he panted, throwing his head back, “‘m close, fuck, oh my god, I’m so close.”

Eddie sat up then, and Richie let his legs fall back to the bed, spread open wide. He cried out when Eddie wrapped his hand around Richie’s cock. He arched into Eddie’s touch, his hands gripping the sheets tight. “Come for me, baby,” Eddie moaned. “Fuck, I’m so close too, wanna watch you come on my cock.”

“Oh, fuck!” Richie cried. “I’m coming, I’m coming, fuck, fuck, yes,” he moaned, his eyes screwed shut and words slurring into moans as he came, his pleasure crashing over him like a wave, engulfing him entirely. All he could feel, all he could think was Eddie. Eddie, inside of him, touching him, making him feel like this. It made it so much better than it had ever felt, knowing it was Eddie holding him, that it was his Eddie looking at him, fucking into him, telling him:

“Rich, baby, I’m coming.” Richie was still catching his breath and coming down when he felt Eddie still his hips, burying his face in his neck, biting down and sucking hard as he groaned and gasped. Richie held him and stroked his hair as he came, barely believing he was making Eddie make those noises, that he made Eddie shake like that. Once he felt Eddie relax against him, pressing light kisses to Richie’s skin, Richie held him tight and buried his face in his hair. 

“Fuck,” he laughed, kissing Eddie wherever he could reach.

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed breathlessly. “That was… wow, that was amazing.” He rearranged himself so his head rested on Richie’s chest and smiled up at him. 

“Tell me about it.” Richie kissed his nose, then delighted in the adorable way Eddie scrunched up his face.

Eddie’s eyes searched Richie’s for a moment before he said softly, “I really love you. A lot.”

Richie melted; for a second he thought he might actually cry. “Eds, you’re the fucking light of my life,” he said, barely able to finish his sentence before he was bringing his lips to Eddie’s. “I love you so much.” He knew in that moment that he would never get tired of feeling Eddie smiling against his lips. 

Eddie pressed a kiss to Richie’s cheek before saying, “I’m gonna pull out, okay?” He giggled when Richie whined.

“Just a little longer?” he pouted. Eddie kissed it right away.

“As long as you want. I could stay like this forever.”

Richie snuggled into him, taking a moment to bask in the glow before saying, his voice smug and full of love, “I knew you’ve always liked it when I call you Eds.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eddie giggled before attacking Richie with kisses.

taglist: @clouded-eyes-and-salty-tears @eddieeatsass @deadlighturis @constantreaderfool @reddieloserz @jessicaheartsderry @vegetarian-avocado @tinyarmedtrex @sml1104 @thelazyeye @itfandomprompts @montconde @fizzylemones @lexinatorwrites @scribbles-solo @nancythebisexualslutwheeler @cutedubutokki @peachcartoon123

[ufonaut]

you: [analyzes the canon of GA and Connor and thoughtfully interprets the found family theme in Dixon's writing while acknowledging he is deeply problematic] /// other people: DIXON STANNNNNNN. ok like fr i think people take the whole "writers are either Good or Bad" too black-white. I have a generally wary approach to tom king but you know what? I read Strange Adventures and his MisterM series bc of you and I love them! Do I automatically love /all/ his work? No, but nuance, people, nuance!

that's what i'm saying, babey!! nuance!!!!!

i have talked about dixon's politics nearly every single time i've mentioned him, it's obviously a genuine & real concern to me as a lesbian etc but i also think his green arrow run is tremendously good with the obvious caveats that apply to just about anything ever written. mike grell is often cited as the definitive green arrow writer besides denny o'neil and i love his run as much as i love dixon's but the way he writes women is atrocious and so's the fact that ollie, at fifty years old, sleeps with a teenage runaway -- notably, none of that seems to have stopped anyone from reading & praising his work because it's obviously understood within fan spaces that it's an abysmal thing to write and i'm not out here calling anyone out for sweeping it under the rug or anything equally ridiculous, i trust their personal judgement in being able to tell that much

i love love love the found family theme in dixon's ga run and i've been sorely disappointed by the lack of acknowledgement of it in the fandom as a whole, that's mostly where all of this comes from. i've seen endless discussions about ollie as a father and nothing about eddie's relationship with connor even though i was under the impression people like him (as it turns out, they only like him orbiting ollie). what dixon did in the construction of the found family theme with connor & eddie and both their respective character development is well written and there's no way around it

like i've said extremely often, i understand cherry-picking in fanwork but when talking meta i sincerely think comparing my insistence on canon to the "curtains are blue" negative analysis discourse misses my point completely, which is that a work that's ostensibly in the same volume as the grell run in a continuity unbroken by crises/flashpoints/rebirths/frontiers becomes part of the text in question regardless of anyone's personal feelings. this is getting long enough already but there's definitely a lot more i could say regarding dixon's take on oliver as the natural conclusion to the downward spiral he'd suffered during the grell run (and how his lacklustre funeral is a result of the fact that he'd alienated everyone in his life during the seattle years -- an intentional effort on mike grell's part as he'd wanted to set his book apart from the regular superheroics of the dcu and there's immediate consequences to that as early as an action comics weekly issue where hal's looking for a place to stay & ollie could not care less)

even my tom king stan blog title is halfway ironic because of the sheer hatred for him on here. i don't love all of tom's work and i know it's got its flaws but then there's absolute masterpieces like strange adventures or mister miracle or rorschach or what have you and it's proof enough that he IS a good writer with a good track record who should be enjoyed critically! same goes for dixon! the idea that good writers are only those who write objectively (or whose biases align with our own) is not only ridiculous but it's completely unrealistic, no work of fiction has ever been produced like that

THANK YOU SINCERELY FOR BEING SO NICE ABOUT THIS!!!

[gaylittleeddie]

some buddie prompts: "you're my family too" "when I first met you I didn't think you would become this important" "I didn't want to cry" "I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong" "it's alright I'm here I'm real, it was just a nightmare" I'm a sucker for angst with an happy ending lmao, sorry if you have already done of this.

I’ll probably do another one of your prompts too but you said angst with a happy ending so here you go. I apologize if it’s bad. This is my first time doing prompts

prompt: you're my family too

word count: 1585

sent in by: @lil-italian-disappointment

Send me a prompt :) it can be for any characters/ships but I don’t do smut so

Eddie didn't know what to expect when he showed up unannounced at Buck's house, but it certainly wasn't this.

Buck was in his kitchen, sobbing over a picture before he had turned to look at whoever walked in. The older man didn't know what to do but stand there like an idiot in the doorway with his hand clutching the doorknob so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Sure, they've had their emotional moments. It's not like the two have never been vulnerable with each other. They're best friends. That's part of the point of someone being your best friend. You trust them with you and allow them to know parts of you that never usually never see the light of day.

But the way the blond quickly wiped at his face and pulled a grin that didn't quite sit right only made Eddie believe he walked in on something that he wasn't meant to ever know about. Which, kind of stung a bit. He smiled back anyways, "Hey man."

"Hey," Buck responded, sliding the picture into his pocket, "To what do I owe this pleasure to?"

It was a weak attempt at a joke. Or rather, a way to brush off whatever it was that had been witnessed. Every part of Eddie was screaming at him to investigate. To figure out why those blue eyes were bloodshot from tears that should have never even been there in the first place. They stood there, bodies tense. Both most likely afraid of what the other would say. What is there to say? What can they even talk about?

The city a couple of stories below was still the same as it had been just moments before but somehow the whole world had felt almost darker than it did. On the borderline of eerie. Something heavy had found its way in and rested uncomfortably in the area where his heart should be. The sound of throat clearing slightly shook him out of it.

"Oh, uh. I just wanted to see you, I guess," Eddie chuckled.

That was the truth, honestly. He never planned on telling Buck that. However, it was out there now, floating around innocently. The brunet probably, if not under the circumstances that he was now, would have died before admitting that to himself much less Evan Buckley. It held meaning. Hidden in plain sight but very obvious at the same time.

“I wanted to see you” didn’t mean just now. When then? Every day. For the rest of their lives if he was given the chance. He did want to see him that much, true. Yet, there were so many other things that he wanted more. Like two matching wedding bands glistening in certain lighting or turnout gear with the same names etched on the bottoms of it. He wanted family. Not that they weren’t now. But, he wanted a different kind. Not the “my best friend is someone we consider to be a pseudo-member” but more of “this is my boyfriend/husband and my son.” They were there, just out of reach of it. Eddie swore it taunt him every day.

He allowed himself to finally close the door. The taller man pulled out two beers and opened them before gesturing to one. Eddie continued, "It was getting a little boring staring at the same four walls in silence."

As he made his way over to the beer and picked it up to take a sip, he thought about how exactly to approach this situation. Comforting people was never a strong suit, of course excluding Christopher because that his son. It’s somehow easier. Well, kind of. He still needed his friends help with that sometimes, too. So how does one console the person who’s usually doing it?

“Eddie, I’m fine,” Buck sighs.

Even though he claimed that, it didn’t match what he was conveying. The firefighter’s posture was slightly slumped, his eyes were still red, and his hair was unkempt as if he’d been tugging at it in frustration. “I didn’t say you weren’t, Buck.”

“You didn’t have to. I can hear your thinking from here.”

Even though he knew it was just a saying, the thought of having Buck being able to hear his every thought scared the hell out of him. But that’s totally off topic. Eddie sighed into the air, shaking his head. He knew his friend wasn’t okay. He knows that man like the back of his hand.

“What’s going on?” Eddie asks, “We both know I saw you so let’s just not cut corners and get right into it. Why were you crying?”

The blond huffs, walking to the stairs and sitting down. His blue orbs glared at the floor, like it was it’s fault that he was feeling this way. The other man sets the beer down gently before coming over to lean against the railing, willing to wait for him to be ready to talk whenever. No words came, though. Instead, Buck reached back into his pocket and held out the picture.

Eddie took it. At first glance, it was nothing special but upon further inspection it was easy to make out that it was both Maddie and Buck. They were staring at the camera, neither smiling. Suitcases were piled in front of an old beat up car and a bag was slung across the older sibling’s back.

“That was one of the times she left. College. I’m not mad at her, obviously. I ran from our parents as soon as I could too. But looking back at it, especially after Red, really makes me realize that at the end of the day it’s always just been me,” Buck explains, “And I’m not even enough for myself so I get why everyone leaves.”

Eddie’s head snaps up at that. Did this man really just have the audacity to say that? Buck not being enough? That in itself doesn’t even sound partly right. “Buck, what-“

His partner cuts him off, “Don’t Eddie. I know you want to make me feel better but it’s not going to work. It’s true. I’m not enough. That’s why I have no one. Everyone around me has someone else, has family outside of the 118, so it has to be something wrong with me.”

Eddie felt like someone just punched him clear in the chest. No, actually he’s felt that before. It doesn’t hurt as bad as this. This was like he couldn’t breathe in a full breath, as if someone was strangling him. How long has Buck felt like this? How come he’s never noticed? Why would Buck feel this way?

Couldn’t he see? Couldn’t he tell that Eddie was so helplessly in love with him? Why didn’t he know that Christopher looked at him as if he created the world itself. Was Buck that good at hiding it or was Eddie just not paying attention until it slapped him clear in the face?

So many questions, none with clear answers. Eddie swallows down all of his own feelings, sitting next to Buck and stared at him until their eyes met. The younger man seemed slightly taken aback from the reaction, probably expecting him to say something rather than just observing silently.

“You have family,” Eddie states.

“Not like that-“

“Exactly like that.”

Buck blinks a couple of times at that. Confusion was slowly forming upon his features and Eddie’s heart broke just a tiny bit more at the fact that this man didn’t know how important he was in the Diaz unit. Without him, where would they both be? Chris wouldn’t have met Carla, Eddie would of probably gave in and move back to Texas. So many things would have been different and not for the better. Hell, his parents probably would have tried to get custody over their grandson at this point and something tells him he wouldn’t have won against them. Not because he’s some terrible parent. No. He just works a lot. Buck has improved their lives so much.

Of course, it only went worse from there. The tears were coming back from wherever they were stashed away before and wasn’t that just a kick in the chest?

“I mean, I know I have Maddie but she has Chim. Hen has Karen, Denny, and Nia. Bobby and Athena have each other plus their own thing going on with Michael, May, and Harry... You have Chris-“

“You’re my family too, Evan,” Eddie whispers slightly, “And not just in the best friend way.”

And the look that he got from that little sentence? It was like he hung the stars. Complete awe. Buck looked so beautiful, just like always but somehow that expression just complimented him so well. Why haven’t they always done this? Especially when it’s like Evan Buckley was meant to gaze at Eddie like that, with hopeful eyes and a genuine smile.

“Yeah?” Buck swallows.

“Yeah.”

He took a leap of faith and reached out to wipe a stray tear from his best friend’s cheek with his thumb. Buck leaned into the touch, grinning even wider if possible. They move together at once, both closing their eyes and pressing their foreheads together.

The city below resumed to it’s busy life, the darkness from earlier no longer being a threat to it. Eddie knows, in the very deepest part of him, that he got his partner to understand tonight. Just for safe measures, however, he breathes, “Mi familia es su familia.”