#plus from what i can tell arms fandom THESE days is filled with very tolerable people that dont mind when you have different hcs

[texasflowers]

coyle sketches. for the same comic idea as the mechanica ones.

[preraphaelitepunk]

Fictober19 Day 25: Ducking Peckish

Prompt #25: I could really eat something.

Fandom: Good Omens

Characters: Crowley, Aziraphale

Rating: Teen (for brief discussion of vaguely phallic pastries)

Warnings: None

On AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/20843936/chapters/50389301

“D’you ever wonder what the ducks think about us?” Crowley bounced a frozen pea off a mallard’s head, enjoying the irritated squawk and ensuing scramble for the tidbit.

Aziraphale cut his eyes over at him, lips compressed. “I’ll wager I can guess what they think about you, my dear.”

“Come on, they love me.”

“I think you’re confusing the ducks with me. I love you; the ducks, I imagine, find you an infernal pest and only tolerate you because you bring food.”

Crowley grinned. That was the most amazing, wonderful, jaw-droppingly beautiful thing about this new life after the failed Armageddon: the ease with which they could say things like that to each other now. (The bit about love, at least; they’d always teased and poked at each other. For centuries, it had been their main form of conveying affection.) It wasn’t a panacea — they both still tended toward anxiety under stress, and Crowley still had to fight off the dark seduction of self-hating depressive episodes sometimes — but they were free, without fear of repercussions from their former bosses, and they were together. They were both absolute messes, but they were each other’s messes, and that made so much difference. He’d never believed happiness like this was possible. It scared him sometimes, how precious it was.

“Not really seeing the difference there, honestly,” Crowley said, shoving his sappy thoughts into the back of his mind.

Aziraphale chuckled and bumped his shoulder against Crowley’s. “Oh, hush, foul fiend.”

“Won’t hush. You know you love it, same as the ducks love us. D’you think they tell stories about us to each other?”

“What? They’re ducks.”

“So maybe they tell duck stories. Duck tales, sort of thing. After all, we’ve been coming here off and on for hundreds of years; they probably have ancestral legends about us, going back generations. How long is a duck generation, anyway?”

“I’ve absolutely no idea.”

Crowley pulled out his mobile and jabbed at it. “Five to ten years for a wild duck. Bless me, that’s nothing, poor buggers. So say we’ve been coming here for 350 years, give or take. Say 10 years for a generation, just to make things easy. That’s 3500 duck generations. That’s unreal. Their legends about us must be insane.”

“Again, my dear, they’re ducks. And I think you’ll find it’s 35 generations, not 3500.”

“Humour me, angel?”

Aziraphale sighed as he tossed a handful of chopped lettuce onto the water. “When do I do otherwise?”

“Right, so if we map duck mythology onto human mythology, they must consider us like gods or something. Not God gods, but like, Olympians or Egyptian gods. Lower-case gods.”

“Or mythical heroes, perhaps.”

“Ooh, I like that. I could be Odysseus, famous trickster. Though I’ve always fancied being Set — you know, from Egypt.”

Aziraphale frowned thoughtfully. “Wasn’t he considered essentially a demon?”

“Nah, s’more complicated than that. He killed Osiris, but he was also in charge of chaos and trickery and strangers. Plus, he was ginger.” Crowley landed a particularly choice bit of veg precisely equidistant between four ducks, smiling at the ensuing squabble.

“That does sound a bit like you,” Aziraphale admitted. “So for the purposes of this discussion, the ducks think of you like Set. What about me?”

“Thoth. Creator of writing, god of magic and healing.”

“Ooh, I like that.” Aziraphale considered this. “But ducks don’t have writing. They don’t even have hands; how would they hold a pen? With their beaks?”

“Point. And they don’t have fire, so you can’t be their Prometheus. Maybe you’re their Apollo, then. A shining golden god who brings light and art and beauty everywhere he goes.”

“Now you’re just being silly,” Aziraphale said, but he was blushing and cutting his eyes up at Crowley in that gorgeous way he had.

“Or Asclepius, god of healing. I’ve seen you sneaking in healing miracles on them. You’re really terrible at trying to be furtive.”

Aziraphale pretended not to hear that last bit. “Asclepius was the one with the snake, right? That would fit. That’s the last of the veg, by the way.” Aziraphale considered the plastic sack. “Does vanishing something count as littering?”

“‘Course not, angel. It’s vanished, not there any more.”

“But its atoms are still there, somewhere. I think. They might, I don’t know, contaminate the ecosystem.”

“Shouldn’t think so. Just atoms, not molecules or chunks or something. Its bits go into other bits, make something new. Circle of life thingie.”

“Good.” Aziraphale snapped the bag out of existence. “You know, I could really eat something about now.”

“You, angel? No, I can’t imagine such a thing.”

Aziraphale’s eyes narrowed. “Sarcasm is the lowest form of humour, Crowley.”

“Uh, gotta disagree with you there. Fart jokes, they’re lower than sarcasm.”

“Really, my dear.”

Crowley shot him a teasing sidelong glance. “If you like, I can switch to fart jokes any time. Got a whole slew of new ones courtesy of the Them.”

“I believe that will not be necessary, thank you.”

“You’re no fun, angel. So what food can this infernal pest provide you with? Are you thinking elevenses, or the full meal experience?”

“Elevenses, I think. Perhaps some eclairs? I saw a lovely little bakery on our way over here; we could stop in and get some pastries to take home?”

“Your wish is my command, angel. If you want suspiciously phallic-shaped pastries filled with creamy goo —”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale blushed and lightly slapped Crowley’s arm.

“Well, they are a bit suggestive. The goo spurts out when you bite into it.”

“What kind of penises have you been seeing that you think eclairs are phallic?”

“Didn’t say they look realistic. Just vaguely phallic-ish, that’s all.”

“Honestly, you are a child.”

“Takes one to know one.” Crowley stuck out his tongue, then offered his arm. “Shall we?”

Resting his hand on Crowley’s bent elbow, Aziraphale said, “I’ve quite gone off eclairs now.”

“Come on, angel,” Crowley said as they strolled away. “It’s not like it’s any more suggestive than anything else you eat.”

Aziraphale squawked. “There is nothing at all suggestive about the way I eat!”

“Ha! I should film you sometime when you’re eating asparagus. Or cake, for that matter. The sounds!”

“Are you determined to ruin every food for me? I’ll be too self-conscious to eat anything in public ever again.”

Crowley grinned and put his free hand on top of Aziraphale’s. “I’m teasing. I’m sure nobody else notices; it’s just that I’ve been watching you eat for millennia.”

“And you only just now think to mention how disgracefully I behave? How I sound?”

“It’s one of my very favourite things, angel. Seeing you enjoy yourself makes me happy. And hearing  you enjoy yourself,” he couldn’t resist adding, just to see the blush deepen.

“You are a very naughty demon, and I have half a mind to banish you from the table next time I eat.”

“Yeah, you’d never. Not now you know how much I like it.”

Aziraphale gave him a grumpy sidelong look, but he was obviously trying not to smile. “Perhaps not. But you are under strict orders not to smirk at me while I’m eating. Even if it’s eclairs, or asparagus.”

“No promises, angel. I’d do anything for you, you know, but that one may not be physically possible.”

[Author’s note: Apologies for the Duck Tales reference. I could not help myself. Also, apologies for being really bad at titles: my brain insisted on combining an autocorrect joke with a pun. Obviously, I need more sleep.]

[hollymartinswrites]

Chapters: 8/? Fandom: IT - Stephen King, IT (Movies - Muschietti) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh Characters: Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier, Ben Hanscom, Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough, Mike Hanlon, Original Child Character(s) Additional Tags: Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Domestic, Light Angst, Family Feels, Childhood Trauma, Adoption, Kid Fic, Adopted Children, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Marriage, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier Are Parents, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Minor Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier Are Best Friends, Catholicism, Richie Tozier Has Issues, Extended Tozier Family, Medical Examinations, Stephen King References

Summary:

Eddie and Richie embark on the most terrifying experience of all—parenthood. Or, the author desperately needed a domestic, family fix-it for Richie and Eddie and it turned into a much longer, angstier exploration than I expected.

Chapter VIII: Richie begins to understand his daughter a bit more and reaches out for help.

There were a lot of things Richie liked about parenthood.

He liked seeing the world through his children’s eyes and experiencing things he had long dismissed as if for the first time (watching Lydia watch Star Wars was better than watching it for the first time as a kid). He liked the structure that came with parenting. It put his anxiety in check and, like the weighted blanket Eddie had given him on their first Christmas, calmed and comforted him.

He liked making his children laugh—loved it, in fact. Making Lydia and Tess laugh was better than making an audience in a thousand-seat theater laugh. And he liked laughing with his children, and was particularly fond of their strange, nonsensical jokes.

He liked the fact that though people complained about how it hard it was to raise kids today, what with all the rampant technology and kids growing up too fast, he was raising his girls in a time and place where having two dads wasn’t that weird. Sure, most kids they knew didn’t have same-sex parents but very few people actually gave a shit about it. It warmed Richie’s heart.

Finally, he liked waking up with the knowledge that he truly wasn’t alone anymore, that there were people who loved him unconditionally.

Of course, there were things he didn’t like about parenthood. He wasn’t crazy about punishments, though he was reluctant to just let Eddie handle those for fear of their kids determining that one parent was the nice one versus the mean one. He also didn’t like extracurricular activities, but he had the sneaking suspicion Tess wouldn’t be interested in as many as her sister was.

He hated germs and the knowledge that if one kid coughed, the entire house was under quarantine. When he found himself wiping down all the doorknobs with disinfectant wipes, he realized all his teasing of Eddie was unfounded. He had turned into Mrs. K. Gross.

He also had a very low tolerance for other parents. Most of them were entitled shitheads who raised snotty-nosed idiots that ran around without any boundaries or consequences. Eddie always teased him for preening so obviously whenever they were complimented for how polite and well-mannered their daughters were in public. Whatever, a victory is a victory.

And finally, Richie definitely did not like how little time parenting left for him and Eddie. He wasn’t stupid, he knew having a family would put their romantic life on the back burner a bit but sometimes, it got rough. Sometimes he just wanted a date night without worrying about the kids with their babysitter but it wasn’t like he could shut off his brain. And yeah, when Bev and Ben flew down, spur of the moment, to visit Mike and his new girlfriend in the Florida Keys, he was a little bit jealous. But then Lydia and Tess had asked for help with building a blanket fort in the living room and he realized, this isn’t so bad.

So no, Richie didn’t regret having kids with Eddie. He loved his daughters and couldn’t imagine life without them. And perhaps it was because of what happened in Derry that made Richie so determined that nothing would threaten his girls.

And if that meant hours of research and more long nights reading than he had done while in college, then so be it. If it meant he woke up every morning exhausted because he had been up half the night digging through forums and links and hints on the internet, whatever. The only thing that irked him about it was the worried looks Eddie sometimes shot his way. But who cares? Tess needed answers.

And of course, the name scratched on the piece of paper the nurse had given him gave no real leads. Whoever this was had no social media presence, not even a LinkedIn. Was this guy a fucking 90-year-old? Even they had Facebooks, at least.

Eddie turned over in bed and groaning, blinking slowly.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he grumbled, squinting against the light of Richie’s iPad which, to be fair, was on the lowest setting.

“Reading,” Richie replied. “Go back to sleep.”

“You need to go to sleep to begin with,” Eddie yawned. “What fucking time is it?

Richie glanced at the time at the top right corner of the screen and winced.

“1:32,” he admitted.

“What the fuck,” Eddie said, reaching for his iPad. “That’s enough.”

“Eds, no, wait—”

“It’ll be there when you use it tomorrow morning,” Eddie replied, taking the iPad out of his hands and closing the cover. He placed it on the nightstand and wrapped his arm around Richie’s middle, causing Richie to wince once again. He had definitely gained some weight but stress-eating in the middle of the night will do that to a middle-aged man.

“Come on, lay down,” Eddie said softly. “Relax.”

“I can’t.”

Eddie sighed and maneuvered his head onto Richie’s chest.

“Tess has been fine,” he admitted gently. “No seizures, no bad dreams, no mentioning of anything out of our past for over a week. You can relax for one night, Rich.”

Richie swallowed and gazed up at the ceiling. He knew Eddie could easily feel his heart beating rapidly and he wondered, not for the first time, just how much he frustrated his husband. Suddenly, Eddie turned his head and kissed Richie’s chest, right above his heart. Richie looked down at him and was suddenly struck with the thought of how amazing it was to be laying here, in this house, with Eddie in his arms.

“Come on, love,” Eddie whispered, “try to get some rest with me, hm?”

Richie nodded and laid back.

“Alright,” he said gently. “Whatever you say, Eds.”

Pulling up to the preschool in the early afternoon always filled Richie with relief. Not for the first time, he reflected on how grateful he was that in their school district, kindergarten was also only a half-day. He had no idea how he would handle Tess going into first grade and having both girls gone all fucking day, the house empty and silent. What the fuck was he gonna do with his time?

Richie parked the car and stepped out, his hands in his pockets. He could write more, he guessed, maybe even take Eddie’s advice and try his hand at essays (“You could be the next David Sedaris, Rich,” Eddie had insisted one day. Richie thought he was being a bit too kind but whatever).

Maybe he’d start hanging out with those stay-at-home moms who spend their free time drinking white wine, going to Zumba, and annoying their friends with pyramid schemes. He could charm his way into that group, couldn’t he?

Richie opened the door to the preschool and was greeted by the sound of children playing, a few whining, one crying, and teachers trying to maintain a semblance of order. He greeted one or two that he knew, along with saying hi to a couple kids from the neighborhood before spotting Tess, pouting in a seat.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said happily. “What’s going on?”

She said nothing, just looked down at her hands as one teacher, Miss Lisa, approached the two of them.

“Do you want to tell your dad what color you got today?” she asked Tess pointedly.

Richie frowned. The fucking color system. Tess always had green next to her name but from the look on her face plus the tone of Miss Lisa’s voice, he knew things were bad.

“What color did you get?” he asked gently.

Tess merely looked away and wrapped her arms around her knees. He turned toward the teacher.

“Yellow,” she replied, “for not listening and talking back.”

Richie raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“That doesn’t sound like you, Tess,” he said. He crouched down to her level. “What’s going on? Why didn’t you listen?” She remained silent, still avoiding her father’s gaze. “Tess, look at me.”

She glanced over and bit her lip before looking back down at her lap. She shrugged once. Richie sighed and straightened.

“Go get your jacket and backpack. We’ll talk about this at home,” he said. She took off for her cubby. He turned back to the teacher. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright,” she said, “all kids have days like this. It was just surprising from Tess, that’s all.”

Richie nodded and ran a hand through his hair.

“I’ll talk to her,” he offered lamely.

Miss Lisa nodded and then took a step closer to Richie, lowering her voice.

“Does Tess talk about her imaginary friend at home?” she asked.

Richie froze, and he briefly wondered if she could tell that the rictus smile on his face was false.

“Sometimes,” he breathed.

She nodded.

“That’s what the issue was today,” she said. “She was too busy playing with her imaginary friend to listen and then talked back when we tried to get her to focus. She’s quite protective of this friend.”

“Right.”

She must’ve thought Richie was upset because she quickly explained, “Most of the kids here have imaginary friends, it’s totally normal. It’s just that when they use them as an excuse to break the rules, we have an issue.”

“Of course,” Richie said blankly.

Miss Lisa smiled reassuringly as Tess arrived with her jacket and backpack and a pout still on her face.

“Come on, kiddo,” Richie said, leaning toward to take her hand. “Say goodbye and apologize.”

“Bye, Miss Lisa,” she muttered, looking down at her shoes. “Sorry.”

“Thank you, Tess,” the teacher replied gently. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Richie and Tess walked out of the preschool silently.

He sat at the kitchen table beside his daughter. She was in a much better mood now that she was home and eating apple slices coated in peanut butter. Richie took a moment to memorize how content she looked before opening his mouth.

“Listen, kiddo, I gotta ask, why weren’t you paying attention in school today?”

Tess shrugged and munched on another slice.

“You know you’re not supposed to do that,” he continued. “And you’re such a good student. You know better.”

She frowned briefly and nodded. Richie wiped a hand over his face as he sighed. Fuck, this was harder than he thought.

“Your job at school is to listen to the teachers,” he explained, feeling like the world’s biggest hypocrite, positive that when he tells this story to his parents, they’ll laugh for hours. “You know that. And you don’t talk back. That’s not like you at all.”

“I know,” Tess mumbled, sounding very near tears and sending a stab through Richie’s heart.

“Baby, you’re not in trouble,” he said quickly. “You just...learned a lesson today, right?”

She nodded and sniffed.

“Oh, come here,” he murmured, immediately taking her into his arms and pulling her onto his lap. He kissed the top of her head repeatedly. “It’s okay, kiddo. You had an off day. It happens to everyone. Even me.”

“Yeah?” she asked, muffled from hiding her face in his chest.

“Yeah,” Richie insisted. “I have them all the time.”

She turned her head and rested it against her father’s heart. Richie tightened his arms around her and allowed himself some time to just enjoy. But he had to find out more.

“Tess, baby,” he said softly, “do you have an imaginary friend?”

She hesitated every so slightly before nodded.

“She’s real,” she insisted.

“I know,” Richie replied, swallowing. “What’s her name.”

“Abracadabra,” she admitted after a moment’s pause. Richie frowned. Sounded like a regular imaginary friend’s name. Maybe this had nothing to do with...everything else.

“Sounds cool,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “Do you guys play together a lot?”

“No, only sometimes.”

“But you guys played today?”

“Yeah,” Tess admitted, wiping at her nose. “She only stayed for a little.”

“What do you guys like to play?”

Tess shrugged.

“She just shows me stuff.”

Richie tightened his grip on his daughter.

“Like what?” he whispered.

“My shine.”

“Shine? What’s that?”

Tess sat back in her father’s lap and gazed up at him, confused.

“My magic,” she replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Your magic that...helps you see things? Like me and Daddy as little boys?” Richie asked slowly.

She nodded.

“What does she show you?”

Tess hesitated, then tilted her head to the side, and raised one hand to rest along her father’s face. All at once, the air rushed out of Richie’s lungs, as if he was in a vacuum. He was no longer in their kitchen, but everywhere at once, flashes of memories and images swirling past his eyes like trees when you speed down the highway.

He caught glimpses of himself as a child, Eddie with his broken arm, Bowers shouting at him in the arcade, stepping on stage and bombing, Edding kissing Myra in City Hall, Neibolt collapsing, Eddie pale and coughing up blood, screams and tears and laughter, Tess as a baby—before he had ever known her, Lydia pushing her sister to the ground in frustration, Richie and Eddie arguing—unaware that both girls could hear them, the Losers overwhelming Tess with their hugs and kisses when they first met her, Richie floating, the MRI machine. All of it streamed past in a dizzying smear of color and sound until, like water in a drain, it circled into a box and abruptly, a hand came down and slammed it shut.

Richie blinked. He was back in his kitchen with his daughter in his arms, her hands folded delicately in her lap.

He gasped, his chest heaving, tears running down his face. He gazed down, slack-jawed, at his daughter, who suddenly looked so much older and wiser beyond her four years.

“She shows me how to stop it,” she said plainly.

“Mikey, I need your help,” Richie said quickly, barely able to catch his breath.

“What? What is it? Are you okay?” Mike responded just as quickly.

“I’m fine, we’re all fine,” Richie replied. “I just need your help in doing some research.”

Mike hesitated. Richie bit his lip and tightened his grip on the phone.

“Is this about Tess?” Mike finally asked.

“Yeah.”

“Richie, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Mike admitted softly. “I mean, I’ve been doing some thinking and maybe Eddie’s right. Maybe this is all crazy.”

“It’s not, though,” Richie said firmly. “It’s not because I fucking saw it.”

“Saw what?”

“Everything,” he blurted out. “Her ability to see things that have happened fucking years ago. I saw it. She showed me.”

“How?” Mike asked and Richie could just picture the cautiously curious look on his face.

“She fucking put her hand on my face and, I don’t know, transferred it,” he said, realizing quickly how insane he sounded. “I’m telling you the truth.”

Mike was silent once again but Richie didn’t have time for it.

“I need your help finding the girl in the articles you sent me,” he continued. “They protected her identity but I need to find her.”

“Richie, how the hell am I supposed to—”

“I don’t know, but that’s what you do, right? Research,” Richie reminded him.

Mike sighed.

“And what are you gonna do if I find her real name and info?” he asked tentatively.

“Talk to her,” Richie said. “I’m not gonna show up at her house but maybe I could at least email her or something.”

“Rich, I think you’re working yourself up a bit,” Mike said gently.

“No shit I am,” Richie exclaimed. “Mikey, this is real. And I need your help. Please. For my daughter’s sake.”

“Oh, for fuck...” Mike groaned. “Why’d you have to go and say that?”

“Please.”

“Alright, alright,” Mike sighed. “I’ll do some digging but I make no guarantees.”

“Yes, thank you so much, man. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Rich.”

Richie jumped when he heard the front door open and close and both girls rush to greet Eddie with squeals of “Daddy!” He turned back to the stove and began stirring the pasta for no apparent reason. Stay calm.

Eddie walked into the kitchen, loosening his tie and smiled.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted, stepping up to Richie to kiss him on the cheek, “how are you doing?”

“Fine,” Richie answered quickly. “You?”

“Tired, but what else is new,” Eddie said. “The girls have a good day?”

“Yeah, fine,” Richie lied. The water in the pot suddenly boiled over, splashing onto his hand. He hissed and snatched his hand back.

“Oh, Rich,” Eddie sighed, grasping his wrist and rushing him to the sink and running cool water over Richie’s hand.

“I’m fine,” Richie said, wincing. “Lower the heat on the stove, would ya?”

Eddie nodded and reluctantly let go of Richie’s hand to lower the burner.

“Do you want some ice?” he asked.

“No, I’m fine. Not a big deal,” Richie said quickly, turning off the water.

“Rich, I think you should hold some ice on it,” Eddie insisted, gazing at the angry burn on his hand.

“I said I’m fine,” Richie repeated, drying his hand on a dishtowel and trying not to wince at the pain.

Eddie gazed at him, a hurt look on his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly. “You seem jumpy. Did something happen? Something with Tess?”

“Nothing happened,” Richie lied again. “I’m just tired and headachey.”

“Okay,” Eddie said slowly. He turned towards the cabinet where they kept the first aid kit and took out a bottle of ibuprofen. He poured two in his hand and handed them to Richie. “Take this for your hand and your headache. I’m gonna go take a shower before dinner, alright?”

“Fine,” Richie said, swallowing the pills dry. He turned away as Eddie walked out of the kitchen.

Richie hated lying to Eddie. He also didn’t think he was particularly good at it, which was quite funny considering he had lied all throughout his career and most of his adulthood. You’d think he’d have this down perfectly but now, lying to Eddie’s face, it sucked. He didn’t mention what Tess had showed him and probably wouldn’t have discussed her behavior at preschool but they were somehow raising two oddly honest children and she blurted it out at dinner.

“How was school today, girls?” Eddie asked as he served them both.

“Okay,” Lydia said, more interested in her food than anything else.

“I got yellow today,” Tess admitted sadly.

Richie flinched as he watched Eddie try to decipher just what on earth she meant by that cryptic statement before he remembered.

“Oh,” he said, mildly confused, “why’s that, sweetheart? You’re always on green.”

Tess shrugged and looked down at her plate of spaghetti sourly.

“Had some trouble listening today,” Richie said quickly. “I talked to her already.”

“I see,” Eddie said, nodding. “Did the teachers and Papa explain why it’s important to pay attention?”

“Yes,” she sighed.

“I always pay attention,” Lydia pointed out.

“I know you do,” Eddie replied before glancing back at his youngest. “You okay, Tess?”

She nodded and gazed up at her father as if wanting to say more.

“I think she’s just embarrassed,” Richie said suddenly.

Eddie frowned but dropped the subject as Tess began eating. Richie relaxed, guilt nevertheless rising in his throat.

Later that night, as they laid side by side in bed, Richie wondered if he should just tell everything to Eddie—about Tess’s imaginary friend, the visions he saw, asking Mike for help. What’s the big deal? The worst he could say was that he was crazy...again.

Suddenly, Eddie reached for his hand and held it gently in the dark.

“How’s the burn?” he asked softly.

“Fine,” Richie said blankly, having completely forgotten about it.

Eddie brought his hand to his lips and kissed it gently in the general area of the burn before trailing kisses up Richie’s arm in an exaggerated imitation of Gomez Addams. Normally, Richie would laugh, but this time, he just pulled it out of Eddie’s grasp.

“Not now,” he sighed, staring up at the ceiling. He could feel Eddie’s eyes on him and just knew they probably looked ever sadder than usual.

“What’s going on, Rich?” Eddie implored. “You’ve been weird all evening.”

“Nothing’s going on,” Richie lied again. “I just got a lot of things on my mind.”

“So tell me about them,” Eddie asked, rolling onto his side to fully face his husband. “That’s what spouses are supposed to do. Share issues.”

“You do that with Myra?” Richie snapped, horrified even as the words tumbled out of his mouth.

Eddie tensed and stared at him, shock written plainly on his face.

“Fuck you, Richie Tozier,” Eddie said after a moment’s pause. “I don’t know what the fuck your problem is but fuck you. I haven’t done shit to you.”

He rolled over onto his side, away from Richie, and pulled the blankets up over his shoulders. Richie clenched his eyes shut and took a deep breath, wondering just what the fuck was his problem.

The email wasn’t very long.

I can’t find the girl from all those studies. They did a solid job protecting her identity. But I did find more about the guy she mentioned as her mentor a couple times in the articles. It is the same name that nurse gave you. I recognized it from a story an old-timer once told me back in Derry. I did some digging and found out that he works in a hospice in New Hampshire. The number’s below. I hope this helps.

Richie typed the number into his phone, his thumb hovering over the call button. He took a deep breath and put his phone down. He turned his gaze to the laptop screen, Mike’s email staring back at him.

If he called, he could possibly get the answers he needed for Tess. Or he could literally be opening Pandora’s box, if the vision she had showed him had any truth to it. He dropped his face into his hands and groaned and before he could second-guess himself, he picked up the phone and called the number.

Richie’s stomach was ice as it rang several times and he was about to hang up when a cheery voice answered, thanking him for calling the hospice and asking where to direct his call. Richie licked his lips and opened his mouth.

“Dan Torrance, please,” Richie said.

[catladychelsea]

First for Everything

Pairing: Otabek x Yuri 

Rating: Mature, Sexual Content

Summary:

"Yuri was never one to care about relationships. About having firsts with someone. Skating was his priority and that was what he loved to focus on. It’s what he was born to do. That was until a certain 18 year old, now 19 year old, Kazakh man with an undercut entered his life and became his very first real friend. And then everything changed."

Yuri looks back to all of the firsts he's shared with Otabek.

Yuri was never one to care about relationships. About having firsts with someone. Skating was his priority and that was what he loved to focus on. It’s what he was born to do. That was until a certain 18-year-old, now 20-year-old, Kazakh man with an undercut entered his life and became his very first real friend. And then everything changed.

Falling in love with his best friend was never Yuri’s intention but it had happened. It scared Yuri at first. Not having any experience or knowledge of this new feeling petrified him. The only person he truly loved was his grandfather. And while he has people he can tolerate being around and that are his acquaintances, he most certainly does not love them.

But that was then and this is now. Yuri had managed to get himself a boyfriend. A very attractive boyfriend to say the least. Not only was he good looking but also a very caring, genuine man. Yuri knows he isn’t the easiest person to deal with but Otabek his whole personality seemed to have changed. And Otabek likes him for who he is.

Yuri’s mind is clouded with thoughts of his incredibly handsome boyfriend as he gets pounded into the mattress, sweat rolling off of his body. They are finally taking their relationship to the next level after many rounds of fingering and prepping Yuri for something thicker and longer than just fingers. Though he will admit, fingers felt very nice. And though he was extremely nervous, the nerves melted away the second Otabek started touching him. Being completely naked meant being completely vulnerable but with Otabek it didn’t matter. He would trust him with his life if he had to.

It definitely isn’t as painful as he originally thought but it isn’t entirely pleasant either. Though like his boyfriend had mentioned, after doing much research, it may take a few times before becoming pleasurable. But it’s perfect and he would’t change anything. Because it’s him and Otabek taking the plunge together into something new and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

There are so many firsts that him and Otabek had accomplished together. Something both boys were incredibly proud of. Sometimes he still can’t believe everything that had happened. It seemed surreal to him.

Otabek was Yuri’s first crush and vice versa. It was embarrassing and he hates to admit it but at one point he even had to ask advice from a certain Katsudon about love and he left cursing, grumbling under his breath how gross him and Viktor were. Even his own grandpa could see that something was different. Yuri never opened up to anyone and was usually rude and loud mouthed until meeting the Kazakh man. What was even more surprising was when one day Otabek randomly asked him on a date. Words were fumbled and the usually calm, collected Otabek was actually embarrassed. It was probably the cutest expression he had seen on him and he will never forget it.

Their first date was something to remember. The dark haired man had shown up with flowers and a stuffed tiger toy, knowing how much Yuri loved felines. Clearly he was nervous and didn’t know what to do. The toy stayed with him constantly and is still currently with him, and he took it everywhere. Even taking pictures with it while traveling and posting them to his Instagram. Their first date was a simple one. They had dinner and Otabek took him on a tour of the city on his motorcycle. Everything looked so much nicer on the back of a bike. It was a simple date, but both were immensely happy. The date ended without a kiss as neither knew how to bring that up but it was slightly chilly and while walking, both reached for the other’s hand. It was the first time Yuri had ever held hands with someone besides family members.

A few dates after that, Yuri had enough. He knew the other man was taking his time and didn’t want to move too quickly but Yuri has always been known for being impatient. “Are you going to kiss me or not?” He remembers the look on Otabek’s face and he wished he had taken a picture. It was a reminder of how he had asked him to be his friend while in Barcelona just as the sun was setting. Red and orange hues filled the sky. The two alone in a seemingly romantic setting. Looking back it almost seemed like a scene out of a love movie. Their first kiss was very awkward and uncoordinated but both were so happy that their lips were finally touching. That night, Yuri had lost count how many times they actually kissed and he couldn’t remember a time in his life when he was that happy. It was a cold night and the two held each other tightly as their lips melted together in an attempt to keep warm.

The first time they had to part ways while being in a relationship was incredibly difficult for both of them. While Yuri knew that time apart could possibly strengthen their relationship, it still depressed him to no ends. Even being on the ice was not enough. They had kept in touch non-stop, texting each other constantly, which had annoyed his rink mates. Yuri had even convinced Otabek to download snapchat. He missed the physical part, though. The two ended up having multiple Skype dates, which was extremely awkward for both at first but they eventually figured it out and even watched movies together, silently longing to be together once again. One day while practicing a particularly tough routine, Yuri ended up falling down on the ice, landing on his butt. Collapsing backwards onto the ice, he let out a groan of frustration. A familiar voice calling his name brought him out of his miserable state and he remembers how fast he flew into his boyfriends arms. Yuri hates crying in front of people, but that day he did not care. All he cared about was that his boyfriend was there. He didn't even yell at the people aww-ing at them in the background.

And now here they were. Sharing another beautiful first together. Their bodies finally connecting and the feeling of their souls becoming one as well. Before dating Otabek, if someone had asked him if he believed in soul mates he would have laughed and called it stupid. Now he wants to believe in it.

“Yuratchka?” The familiar deep voice brings Yuri out of his reminiscing over past events and back into the present. Green eyes meet brown and a wave of emotion bubbles in his chest.

“Hm?” A pleased sigh slips from his parted lips as pleasure courses throughout his body.

“What are you thinking about? You look deep in thought…” Otabek's movements come to a halt and he raises a hand to run through sweaty blonde hair, catching a few tangles.

“About you. About us.” Yuri grabs his lovers hand, placing kisses against his knuckles, palms, everywhere his lips can reach. The other hand runs up his chest, feeling his heart hammering against his chest and a beautiful pink tint dusts Otabek’s cheeks. As much as he loves when his boyfriend pampers him and makes his heart flutter, there’s nothing he loves more than reciprocating and in turn watching the Kazakh’s reactions.

“Yura…” Their lips meet in the gentlest kiss, both pouring all of their love into it. A faint salty taste of sweat coats their lips but neither care. Impatient limbs wrap around the body above him, pulling him down so their sweat covered bodies are meshed together. Not being able to tell where one body starts and where one ends.

“Beka, move.” Heels dig into Otabek’s lower back and he wastes no time before picking up the pace again. Only a moment later is Yuri’s body wracked with pleasure, the familiar spot inside him being struck causing him to arch his back right off of the bed. Legs tighten around his hips in a desperate attempt to get him deeper. The noises escaping Otabek's lips only turn him on more and the fact he can make him feel that good boasts Yuri's confidence greatly. Fingers dig into the strong back above him and he knows there will most likely be marks but he's sure his lover will wear them proudly.

Yuri is looking forward to what the future holds between the two skating lovers. While being apart, long distance relationship being necessary for them, is tough, he knows that no matter how far apart they are, they belong together and nothing can ever separate them. Yuri might not have had a lot of experience prior to his relationship with Otabek but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t need it. All he needs is Otabek. Plus there are so many more firsts they have yet to experience yet and Yuri cannot wait.

The two reach their climax together and Yuri can’t help but press a chaste kiss on the flushed cheek beside him while he attempts to catch his breath. The body on top of him is heavy but he doesn't complain, even if it is sticky between them. The warmth is a welcomed sensation.

“Yura, Мен сені жақсы көремін.” The words are whispered into his ear, causing goosebumps to cover his entire body.

There is a brief moment of silence between the two, their laboured breathing the only noise in the room. Yuri tosses his head back, smiling widely and he wonders if it's okay to be this happy.

“Я тоже тебя люблю.”

....

Hi! I’m back to writing! (kind of) So this is my very first fic for the Yuri on Ice fandom. I do apologize if they don't seem in character. Honestly I watched the series only once and don't remember all of the specific details, so I really didn't want to put many in and be wrong. I do LOVE OtaYuri, though. Such a fantastic ship.

God, this literally has nothing to do with skating in it. It is ALL fluff and sap. I hope you all like that :')

Please do go easy on me! This is my first time writing this ship and I'm super nervous to even post this. Please do point out any spelling/grammar errors. I check my fics over SO much, but we all miss small mistakes at some point, right?

Not quite sure if I'll write any other OtaYuri fanfics but I'll consider it. Especially if someone wants to collab with me and can help me with more details!

I didn't know if I should italicize the past events. If you guys think it would make it easier to read, please do let me know~

I'm always open for constructive criticism, but please no hate. Like I said, it's my first time with this ship.

If you enjoy the ship, come join me on Twitter!! I’m ALWAYS screaming about them: 

https://twitter.com/catlady_chelsea

Enjoy!