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hellfirenacht · 11 months ago

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Wing Man Part 7

Fic Summary: Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

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Chapter Summary: Dustin spills the beans, and Wayne gives some advice.

5k words

Chapter Summary: Dustin spills the beans, and Wayne gives some advice.

A/N: Happy New Year! I ran out of steam there for a while but I am bursting with new inspiration and have a billion ideas for new and old fics! Thank you for your patience and support 💜

The next night after dropping you off at home, there was a storm the likes of which Hawkins had never seen. Lightning lit up the sky through the night like a shitty rave, knocking out the power for Forest Hills Trailer Park for the better part of two days. It wasn’t until Saturday, when Eddie attempted to check in on Ronnie again, that he realized that their worn out phone had been completely fried. Shit.

Getting a new one was easier said than done, Eddie and Wayne had to pinch pennies this week after his uncle had been out of work a few days because of a cold, and having to replace a good chunk of groceries that had gone bad sitting in the dead fridge.

Sure, Bev had been nice enough to give Eddie a few extra shifts at the Hideout to help cover but that was a paycheck that wasn’t going to be in for another week. There was always his dealings, but he’d been keeping his head down after nearly having his stash blown by an over enthusiastic K-9 unit that, thankfully, was more interested in the jerky that Eddie had in his jacket.

For a week, he’d been without a phone now. Normally it wasn’t a huge loss, not many people actually bothered trying to call him anyway, and Wayne didn’t really socialize much working the night shift. But he missed Ronnie, and he really was stressing each day that went by that he didn’t call you. Eddie knew that whatever this was, he was probably already blowing it.

Tuesday rolled around again, and he hoped that you’d show back up to the Hideout. Jeff had even agreed to give most of the band a ride if Eddie agreed to haul their equipment and do all of the breakdown in case you needed another ride home. No such luck though, unbeknownst to him Keith had come down with the same cold that his Uncle Wayne had the week before, meaning you had to work a double.

It was now Friday, over a week since you’d written your name in the most stubborn permanent marker he’d ever come across. Your name still stained his skin in a faint and ugly shade of pea green. Eddie could now say your number by memory, despite never having punched in the digits once. If anyone at school had noticed that Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson had a girl's name on his arm, they didn’t say anything.

“Whose number is that?” Mike asked in the middle of a time out while Zach and Gareth were pouring over the rule book over the legality of a move that Eddie was sure was bullshit. So much for that.

Eddie’s head snapped over to the freshman while those in Corroded Coffin snickered and suddenly lost interest in the rules for the moment. With the candles and stage lights on, it was always warm in the Hellfire room, and Eddie had stripped his jacket giving his arms a chance to breathe while he guided the party on their next adventure.

It had also meant that the faded remains of your number was still visible, which he hadn’t thought much of until Mike had pointed it out.

“Yeah, Eddie, whose number is it?” Jeff snickered, which earned a hard look from Eddie that under any other circumstances would have shut Jeff up but in this case only made him laugh harder.

For a moment he debated internally about putting his jacket on, and telling them all to shove it. It was tempting, very tempting, but Eddie wasn’t a teen anymore. Hell, he had a good two to three years on most of the members in this club. Why should he be embarrassed because a cute girl had some sort of interest in him?

Because you’re blowing it by not being able to call her. He told himself.

Eddie then told the table about how you’d given him your number right before he dropped you off. How you’d been a perfect gentleman and hadn’t taken advantage of him or made any untowards moves to him. (Even if he had thought you almost did, but he kept that part to himself).

To his surprise, the ribbing was kept to a minimal. Without Eddie fighting against it, the group became less interested. Eddie’s love life was only of interest when it meant that the sheep could finally have some fun with the shepard.

That was going to be the end of it. Jeff had conceded that the rule they were looking up had been an old house rule from his middle school group that he had never questioned as not actually being accurate, and they were ready to move on. Eddie opened his mouth to guide the party to the next encounter-

“I thought you said you weren’t interested in her.” Dustin suddenly said. Eddie had thought that the shrimp had been suspiciously quiet for the past few minutes.

“If that was him not interested then I’m quitting Hellfire to be a cheerleader.” laughed Gareth.

“No one wants to see you in a miniskirt, man.” said Mike.

“They have guy cheerleaders!” protested Gareth. “I’d wear the pants.”

“That’d be a first.” ribbed Zack.

“Don’t you have to be crazy strong to be a cheerleader? Gareth, your strength stat sucks.”

“I haul my own drumset every week!”

“Can we get back to the game?”

“Eddie,” Dustin spoke up again. His brows were furrowed and he was messing with his pencil, the same way he did when someone in the party was about to do something that didn’t make any sense. “You did say you weren’t interested.”

So much for Eddie’s love life being of no interest, he now had a herd of sheep looking at him expectantly, no longer talking about Gareth possibly changing after school activities. He should ignore it, get everyone back on track, and lead them back into the Forbidden Caves where he was not tempted to throw a mimic in for messing with the flow of the game.

He should... but Dustin’s comment bugged him for some reason.

“I never said that.” Eddie said, looking at the kid.

“What? Yeah you did!” Dustin looked as shocked as Eddie felt. When had he ever said he wasn’t interested in you?

“Oh yeah, when?” Eddie crossed his arms and leaned back in his throne, his eyes narrowing.

“At the arcade!” Dustin sounded frustrated. “You told me that you didn’t want me introducing you to anyone when we were doing Hellfire related shit, and that you weren’t interested anyway.”

The warmth from the candles and stage lights were nothing compared to the heat of everyone’s eyes on him. What the fuck was Henderson even talking about?

Oh. Oh what the fuck?!

“Excuse me?” Eddie said slowly as that thirty second conversation started to play in his mind.

“Yeah, I remember that.” Mike added, in an attempt to back up his friend. “We just assumed she wasn’t your type.”

Eddie hadn’t been looking to be anyone’s boyfriend. He was never looking to be dating anyone, the few times he’d found himself in the good graces of a girl who’d shown interest in him it had always blown up in his face.

That had never stopped him from trying though.

“Are- wait. Back up.” Eddie stood up and made his way over to the opposite end of the table where the freshmen were suddenly looking very nervous. He grabbed them by the shoulders, as he’d done so many times in the past and hauled them up while the rest of the table watched on in amusement. Normally, Eddie would never pause the game but, fuck it. This kid had something to do with you, and he was going to figure out what.

“Jesus, Eddie-” Mike said, wincing at the grip. “I don’t have anything to do with this, it was all Dustin and Steve!”

This was getting more and more confusing by the moment. Eddie shoved the two boys to face them, leaning over them. Even with Mike’s growth spurt over the past few months, somehow Eddie still seemed to tower over them.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice was slow, trying to understand why that name was even being spoken in the private sanctuary away from jocks.

“Yes, Steve! They’re like, best friends or something! Ask Dustin!” Mike said, throwing his friend under the bus.

“What’s the big deal?!” Dustin asked, looking between Mike and Eddie with a look of bewilderment.

“Henderson, you have thirty seconds to explain what the actual Hell is going on before your character becomes Quasit food.” Eddie said, releasing his grip on both of the freshmen.

“Okay, okay!” Dustin held his hand up in surrender, looking nervous as everyone watched the scene unfold. “So, you know how her and Steve work together? Well, they had a deal going on where they’d help get each other dates.”

Eddie’s head tilted down slightly, but his eyes stayed firmly focused on Dustin. This was making less and less sense by the minute. Steve needed help getting dates? King Steve of Hawkins High who had the pick of any girl in school before he graduated? That Steve Harrington couldn’t get a date and so had recruited you into helping him?

And you, you with the everything about you couldn’t get a date either? Hadn’t you mentioned something about that before, at the Hideout?

“I help him and he uh... he helps me get out of the house.”

You’d said that, and he hadn’t thought much of it until now. All this time, Eddie had thought the arcade incident had been Dustin trying to have his two older male friends meet and be friends, but it had been you that he was supposed to meet?

“So you’re telling me that you, Dustin Henderson and Steve Harrington were trying to set me up on a date?” Eddie looked over at the rest of the table that looked just as bewildered as he did. This was a prank, right? He’d been tossed into some sort of alternate dimension where a freshman and a jock had any sort of interest in his love life, in any part of his life. He’d sooner believe that he’d run a drug deal with Chrissy Cunningham than this.

“Well, technically we were trying to set her up on a date and you seemed like a good fit?” Dustin’s answer came out as more of a question, leaving Eddie’s mind reeling. Behind him, he could hear the growing snickers of the party.

Eddie was ready for this to start making sense any time now.

“So she was helping Steve get dates and he wanted to set her up with me?” Nope, even after thinking it a half dozen times it still wasn’t clicking.

“That part was my idea actually!” Dustin said, showing off a smile filled with metal. “She’s pretty weird and Steve said she was picky-”

“Can’t be that picky if she was interested in Eddie.” muttered Gareth, earning another round of laughter at the table.

Eddie didn’t even have it in him to shoot another look at the table as he continued to try and piece together what was going on.

You and Steve had a deal to try and get each other dates. You were picky and so Dustin suggested Eddie. Steve then brought you to the arcade to force a meeting and-

“Wait, did she know that she was supposed to meet me?” Eddie asked suddenly.

“Oh yeah, she knew the whole time in the arcade.” Dustin nodded, hoping that Eddie wasn’t about to blow a fuse over this. “Well, she figured it out at least. See she was just supposed to be tagging along with Steve to find guys to flirt with but then uh... she realized she was supposed to meet you.”

“And she didn’t know who I was?” Eddie clarified, thinking back to the way you’d tried to talk to him about Hellfire, Chris Morrison, anything to try and start a conversation. How the hell was it that he could remember every time you two met so clearly, but you didn’t know who he actually was?

Because it wasn’t about you, Eddie. He had to remind himself.

Dustin shrugged. “I guess not? She’s never mentioned you before that night.”

Guess not everyone paid attention to the Freak. He hated that it bugged him that you didn’t remember him but could he blame you? He probably wouldn’t remember him either, just a Munson fuck up who everyone was waiting to end up dead in a ditch somewhere.

Eddie pushed Dustin back down into his seat, done interrogating the poor freshman. Everyone watched as he made his way back to his side of the table, behind the DM screen. He had a lot to think about, but he wasn’t about to start processing that in front of the rest of Hellfire.

“You all wander deeper into the cave, the only light coming from the torch carried by-”

“I have dark vision!”

Broke and bored, Eddie haunted the trailer for the rest of the weekend. He did have practice with Corroded Coffin for a generous two hours on Saturday, and then a long shift that night at the Hideout where one old drunk had slipped him a $10 tip for making sure he always had a cold beer in hand. But those few hours were just a minor reprieve from the information that Dustin had given him the previous day.

When he wasn’t distracted by work or practice he was practicing guitar, working on lyrics, prepping for the next Hellfire session.

He tried to think about you, but ended up feeling confused. When he was trying to think about anything else, all he could see was the way you had flirted with him at the Hideout.

Despite popular opinion, Eddie wasn’t stupid when it came to girls. He could tell when a girl was interested in him, and you had made it clear that you had at least some interest in him. You had told him point blank that you were not with Harrington, and had no interest as well. He’d seen the way you looked at him while watching them play, that excitement in your eyes. Your head had bobbed to the rhythm of their songs watching them with as much enthusiasm as if you’d been a fan for years.

Paige had watched with similar eyes, right? She’d seen something in them that no one else had before-

No. Not them. Not Corroded Coffin. Just Eddie.

It felt pathetic that he kept comparing you to Paige. He didn’t want to, he really didn’t want to. It wasn’t like he was still hung up on Paige, not really. She’d just been a turning point in who he was as a person. She’d been the first (and last) girl to really look at him as a person. If his dating prospects had been small before, they had completely dried up over the past two years.

Date the freak? Yeah, right. There had been the odd girl who’d hit on him as if daring themselves to get with him but he was done with that. A few mediocre dates that he’d agreed to out of boredom or loneliness had only added to the idea in Hawkins High that he was undesirable. Adding to that, the older he got, the younger his underclassmen became and the idea of dating someone younger was... well he didn’t need to add ‘creep’ to the long list of rumors about him. It didn’t matter to him most of the time, instead focusing on his friends, his band, his club, his business, himself. God knows he’d never be able to hold down a relationship unless he got his shit together and earned everyone’s trust again.

“Graduate and get laid, Munson.” Ronnie’s voice echoed in the back of his mind and he groaned as his face warmed. It was the middle of the week, just over two weeks since the night at the Hideout. Eddie was laying on the old couch face down, his homework on the counter half finished and the blue glow of the tv doing little to distract him.

The sound of the door opening didn’t even phase him enough to look up, even as Wayne grunted out a hello before setting something down on the counter next to his forgotten schoolbooks.

“Did you eat?” Wayne asked, which earned a shrug from Eddie. How could he think about eating when he was stuck thinking about everything else?

“Are you gonna tell me why you’ve been moping around for the past few weeks?” Wayne tried again in an attempt to be a good guardian. When that didn’t work either he sighed and said “Might as well step outside with me and have a smoke.”

It was better than doing whatever the hell else Eddie was doing now, and so he rolled off the couch less than gracefully and followed his uncle out onto the porch to sit on the outdoor couch. Wayne offered him the smoke and for a moment it was peaceful. Wayne wasn’t one to push Eddie to talk about anything, but he did have a way to make him think even if it did piss him off occasionally.

Eddie took a long drag of the cigarette and released it slowly as he stared up at the sky. It was a dark night, a million tiny dots illuminating the trailer park, even if the moon wasn’t out. He scanned the stars, looking for the three that he knew were Orion’s belt. That’s about where his astrology knowledge began and ended, but it was something to look for at least.

“I think a girl likes me.” He finally said as he spotted what he assumed was the constellation he was looking for.

“Yeah?” Wayne asked, his own eyes gazing upwards as well, giving Eddie the space to talk more.

“Yeah.”

It was silent again for a few minutes as they smoked, the only other sound for a while was that of Wayne cracking open a beer. That’s what Eddie appreciated about Wayne, he didn’t need to fill the silence like his dad did, and Eddie didn’t need to either. He could just... exist.

“I don’t know what to do about it.” Eddie finally said a while later. “She only has an interest because her and some jock are trying to get each other dates.”

“Is that right?” Coming from anyone else that question would have been dismissive, a filler phrase to show that they were paying minimal attention. Eddie knew better though, which caused a knot of frustration in his gut.

“I guess.” he shrugged.

“How many dates has she gone on?” Wayne passed the beer to Eddie, who took a grateful sip.

“Don’t know. It didn’t sound like she’d been on many. Henderson said she’s picky.”

“But she likes you.”

“Yeah.”

Another long stretch of silence as Eddie stewed over the question. He hated how Wayne could break down his problems into simple questions.

“Don’t see why you’re moping around if she likes you.” Wayne glanced over at Eddie. “Are you sweet on her?”

Eddie snorted at the term, taking another drag from the cigarette and flicking the ashes off the porch. “She’s cute.” he said, thinking about how you’d looked the last few times he’d seen you. He might have been distracted that first night at the arcade, but not so distracted that he didn’t notice that at least. “Smart too. She got the guys to listen to her last time we hung out.”

Wayne raised an eyebrow. “She got Gareth to pay attention? That’s a damn miracle.”

“They liked her too.”

“More than the California girl?”

The question caught Eddie off guard and he looked up at Wayne who was still looking off in the distance. Eddie had never explained exactly to Wayne what had happened that first senior year, most of the details going to what happened with Al when Officer Morris was shot. They never talked about how Eddie was so damn close to packing everything up and running away to California.

Thinking about everything that happened that year still stung. Eddie had tried hard not to think about what could have been if CJ and Toby had just shown up one or two days later. Would Eddie have made it to the audition? Would they have really liked him? Maybe in another life he’d be signed and he’d be working on an album or on tour and him and Paige...

It didn��t matter, that ship had long since sailed. Eddie was no rock hero, and never would be. He tried to tell himself it was better this way, if anything it meant that his relationship with Al was over and done with which was a hollow victory if he was being honest.

“Definitely more than her.” Eddie finally agreed. You weren’t asking him to ditch the band and run away with you, so that had to give you some points for them, and for him. Dustin vouched for you, and even Mike, but he wasn’t sure how much that counted for yet. After all Dustin still seemed to worship Steve, and you were friends with Steve-

But did that actually matter? If you and Steve were close enough friends to help each other like this, and Steve was willing to vouch for Eddie, despite never having any real conversation just because Dustin said something-

“She gonna ask you to run away?” Wayne was now looking at Eddie again.

Sometimes he wondered if his uncle could secretly read minds.

“Doubt it.” Eddie said, “She works at the video store. I don’t know much about her, honestly.”

“So ask her on a date.”

“What?”

“She likes you, you want to get to know her. Ask her on a date. It’s not that complicated, Eddie.” Wayne dropped the cigarette on the porch and crushed it under his boot. “You always did think too much, always sucked up in your own world. You’ll be happier in the long run if you open up a bit.”

Easier said than done for a 20 year old still in high school that the whole town considered a satanic cult leader. Then again, when was the last time he’d really opened up to anyone other than Ronnie or Wayne? Right, his dad in the weeks before the heist.

“I think I fucked this up before I could even start.” Eddie sighed, snuffing out his own half finished cigarette. “She gave me her number and I never called.”

“Could’a grabbed a quarter from the change jar and used a pay phone.”

Eddie pressed his hands against his face and dragged them down slowly. Why did good advice always come too late for him?

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I brought back a new phone for the kitchen today.”

Eddie’s head snapped up so fast he should have snapped something, his eyes widening.

“Don’t get too excited. It’s a new used phone. Guy down the line from me offered it up and it’s better than nothing.”

Eddie didn’t care if it was a rotary phone, he’d take anything at this point if it meant that he could try to call you.

He wanted to call you.

He wanted to call you. Eddie didn’t care if you remembered that first time you met, did it even really matter? You had an interest in him, Eddie Munson, now.

“Thanks, Wayne.” Eddie stood up and hurried inside, seeing the new old phone that was sitting on the counter. It took a few minutes of making sure it wouldn’t fall off the wall before he plugged it in and heard that sweet dial tone sound.

Eddie grabbed his copy of Lord of the Rings from his bedside table and pulled out the paper flower, looking at the number scribbled in his own chicken scratch. He didn’t trust himself to punch in the number without checking, no matter how many times he read the ten digits over the past two weeks.

It rang once.

Twice.

Six times.

No response.

“It’s late, she might be asleep.” Wayne said, grabbing a box of pasta from the cabinet.

It wasn’t that late, not even 8:30 yet. Eddie sighed and hung up the phone, crossing his arms as he thought about his next move. He’d always had tunnel vision when he got an idea into his head, from Corroded Coffin, to his campaigns, to a book that he wanted to read, it was hard to shake the urge when he got one.

Grabbing the keys from the counter he called over to Wayne “I’ll be back later.” which was responded to with a confirmation that he’d save some pasta for Eddie in the fridge.

There weren’t many places he could think of where you could be tonight. You hadn’t shown back up at the Hideout, and the arcade was closed this late on a weeknight. You could be at home, but Eddie didn’t remember where you lived and showing up to your place after two weeks of radio silence would definitely get him in trouble.

So he drove to Family Video.

If you were there he’d do.. something. If you weren’t he’d call you after school tomorrow. Eddie winced internally at the thought. He’d been trudging through school and dragging his feet for the past six years to graduate, and now was the time he felt childish about it. You could legally buy him a beer, and he could illegally sneak you a drink in the Hideout.

At a stoplight he swapped out the Black Sabbath tape for W.A.S.P., remembering that you had mentioned liking them. How did he continue to remember these small details about you?

Because she’s treated you like a human each time you’ve talked. It was startling how something so basic was such a big deal to him.

The lights were still on at Family Video, and the open sign was still lit up. He could see movement inside the store, and he caught sight of someone wearing the signature green vest that the employees wore.

He’d walk in, and if you were there he’d- fuck what the hell was he supposed to do? Eddie stared at the door from inside his van for a few minutes. It was past nine now, and he could have sworn that they should be closed now but that stupid sign was still on. That had to be a good sign right? Eddie wasn’t one to believe in stuff like that but maybe he’d be stupid to ignore a literal neon sign hanging in the door.

Okay, now or never. Eddie had never really been one to hesitate before and he wasn’t about to start now.

He made his way to the entrance and opened the door before he could think about what he was actually wanting to do. Eddie could improvise, it was one of the more useful skills that came from years of running Hellfire.

“Who didn’t lock the door?!” Your voice was a welcome sound, sealing the determination inside of him. No going back now.

“It was Steve’s job to-” your co-worker said. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t place a name to the face.

“Oh, shit. Hi.” Steve was the first to actually notice Eddie as he walked in, looking as if he was expecting literally anyone else.

Turning on the Freak, Eddie smirked at Steve. “Cursing in front of customers, Harrington? Now that’s not very professional of you.”

“Well, we’re closed. You can’t be a customer if you can’t pay.” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips in a way that reminded Eddie of a mother hen. Steve did have a point, and so he decided to cut through any bullshit and looked over at you. You looked like you’d had a long shift, but the way you were looking at him... there was still the same shock that was on Steve’s face, but while his shock was laced with confusion yours was excited. As if you couldn’t believe that The Freak was here and that was a good thing.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Eddie blurted out the request before he could think. He had no idea where you two would go or what you would do but he had to do something.

Your coworker nudged you in the ribs, and your expression changed to a more professional one.

“I- uh. I have to finish closing.” you said, looking at Steve for a split second.

“Steve and I can handle the rest of closing!” Eddie made a mental note to learn this girls name and send her a fucking gift basket one day.

“Guys, I’m literally in charge of you both. I can’t leave before you.” You said, reaching down to grab something from below the counter- your bag. Eddie felt himself growing more excited, his heart pounding as you tossed your work vest and keys over to them. They were basically shoving you out the door to spend time with him.

“We can handle it!” Steve said.

“And I can handle Steve!” Robin added. “We close without you and Keith all the time, remember?”

You stepped out from behind the counter, looking up at him. The color of your eyes under the fluorescent lights reminded him of the stars he had been looking at earlier this evening. Eddie found himself smiling at you as you opened the door for him.

Someone was quick to lock the door and turn the OPEN sign off.

Eddie opens his van door for you, trying his best to make a good impression for whatever was about to happen. You hopped into the passenger seat and he thought that he might enjoy seeing you sitting next to him like this in his van more often.

---

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#Nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #wing man

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watchoutforthefanfics · 6 months ago

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achievement unlocked 🔓 (part seventeen) || Streamer AU! Reddie (IT)

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: this prompt + BIRDS OF A FEATHER by Billie Eilish

Summary: Richie liked to play video games, and by some stroke of luck, it became his job. Being primarily known as Trashmouth on stream, he found his own little group of streamer friends and they became intertwined: The Losers Club. It never did feel quite complete, though. Well, until, he got his very own backseat gamer in chat.

TWs: cursing, talk of sex, mention of toxic relationships, and shameless flirting.

[[A/N: There's a lot in this one. Mostly sweet stuff though. And more Loser shit !!! So get hype. Anyway. Enjoy :))]]

"If I wasn't an option," Richie posed, "-which Loser would you date?"

It was the second day of driving, they were about halfway through their 'driving hours' and Richie was trying to keep himself entertained. With Eddie now, it was easier to occupy himself -whether it be fidgeting with his hand or just keeping up a conversation.

"What?"

"If I wasn't an option, which Loser would you date?" Richie repeated -casually.

Eddie paused -thinking, wordlessly. Richie kinda wanted to look at him, but they were on the road. He'd get to look at him later anyway, he'd stare at him as long as possible later. Like he did in that mirror-

"Bill," Eddie answered, half-certain, "-He's kinda like you in a different font."

Good point.

"But you'd secretly yearn for me the whole time," Richie added, playfully, "-right?"

"Obviously," Eddie responded, grinning (completely in-sync, it made Richie want to scream how much they just... belonged).

"That's what... Beddie?" Richie thought on it, before shriveling up his nose, "-Disgusting, actually."

"That is pretty bad," Eddie relented, before stating -stubbornly "-Not that I like fucking... Reddie."

"Awe c'mon, Eds," Richie blindly moved around, searching for his hand -Eddie met him in the middle (laughing a little), "-It only means they love you."

"I already know that," Eddie added, and Richie could feel him look at him, "-They're always spamming chat with the fucking spaghetti emoji. Thanks for that, asshole-"

"Uh, uh, uh," Richie tsked, pulling Eddie's hand to his lips and kissing it, "-I have it on good authority that you like that shit, actually."

"You're such a fucking dick," Eddie rolled his eyes, but he was definitely smiling -it made a smile peek along Richie's lips too.

"A dick for citing my sources?" Richie asked.

"Shut up," Eddie stressed out, "-I take all that shit back. Turn around, take me back to that shithole-"

"It's so cute when you lie to me, Eds."

"Shut the fuck up-" Eddie laughed, taking his freehand (the others stayed intertwined) and shoving at Richie's shoulder -hard, "-asshole."

"Next question-" Richie started.

"Hey, no," Eddie interrupted, "-You didn't answer. Don't try and fucking slip out of that shit."

They were technically playing 20 questions at the moment but Richie was pretty sure they were way past 20. So, yeah, there were rules. Technically.

"Yeah, okay, Eds, let me think," Richie hummed -thumb dancing along the back of Eddie's hand (a mix of tapping and rubbing along the skin), "-Is this a completely imaginary world? Could I hypothetically like women? Because-"

"Bev is such a cop-out," Eddie hissed.

"Okay, okay," Richie laughed -tapping his fingers along the wheel.

Miles and miles of road ahead of them (but Richie didn't really mind that with Eddie there). He could probably do anything with Eddie. He gave him like secret fucking powers, he felt fucking invincible with him. Like everything was fucking amazing, like nothing could hurt him.

"Honestly?" Richie finally started to answer, "-Probably Stan. He knows what's best for me, and other than you and maybe Bev, he's the only one who can deal with me."

"What about Patty?" Eddie asked -curiously.

"Throuple," Richie clarified, "-obviously."

Eddie hummed, and he took it as a sign to continue.

He added, "I always told them if I was still alone at 30, to clean out a room and I'd be their practice kid."

"You already are their fucking practice kid," Eddie remarked -pulling their hands into his lap and fidgeting with Richie's (fingertips tapping along his knuckles).

"That's very true," Richie leveled, "-You can't fucking imagine how much Stan the man has helped me with you."

"Helped you with me?" Eddie furrowed his eyebrows, "-What the fuck does that mean?"

"Stanny's like my surrogate parent," Richie explained, "-So any time I had like new feelings or any of that... shit, I went to him. And well, Steve too, but you can only have so many appointments-"

Eddie followed up, brown eyes set on the side of his face, "But about me? What about me?"

"Um, early on, we talked about you," Richie answered, "-but like every big event, probably. Like when we actually like really started messaging all the time, when I said you could move in with me, when I figured out I was in love with you. Well, actually, he helped me figure that shit out-"

"When was that?"

"When was what?" Richie asked.

Eddie clarified, still staring at him, "When did you find out that you loved me?"

Richie's eyes flashed to him for a second, taking in his face -all big eyes and curious glance. He had to keep it quick, because otherwise, he would physically not be able to stop. Every time he looked at Eddie he found something fucking new to love-

"This count as a question, Eds?" Richie asked.

Eddie paused a second, before answering, "Yes, yeah, I'll answer it after you do."

Richie let that sit for a minute. Okay.

"When you told me my smile was crooked," Richie spoke -instinctively (it was still stuck in his mind), laughing a little, "-and then insulted me for getting embarrassed. That was... That was the first time it ever fucking... hit me. And I wasn't really sure that it was love, hence the Stanley thing, but yeah. Then."

Eddie eyed him silently for a second, "That was like 4 days before you actually said it."

"Yeah," Richie laughed, "-I'm really not fucking good at keeping my mouth shut. But I do think it was probably longer, that's just the first time I thought it."

There was a pause.

"What about you, Eds?"

"The first time I thought it?" Eddie asked.

Richie clarified, "Sure, whatever you can remember."

Eddie took a moment before his eyes fell to their hands -unlacing them just to trace the creases in Richie's palms. It sent goosebumps down his spine, he was getting used to the touching constantly still, not that he didn't initate 75% of it-

"I think-" Eddie started, before pausing, "-I think the first time the fucking... word came to mind was probably... um, when you were cooking? And you did that stupid alien skit."

Richie blinked, "What?"

"Yeah, I just-" Eddie continued, fidgeting with his hands with more intention (nervous maybe), "-I saw you fucking... being you. Just a giant fucking dork and only I get to see that shit, and I don't know it just... I thought about it for a second."

"Shit," Richie laughed, red climbing up his collar, "-Seriously? How did you-"

"I didn't like fucking cement it," Eddie clarified, a little flustered, "-it was just there. I think when it did was... Well, it's fucking cliché but a little after you did that fucking speech about loving me. It was when you told me that you'd drive fucking 43 hours for me. The fact that you'd thought about it beforehand, and that you would just do that shit for me. I don't know it just... I was just like 'fuck, I really do love you'."

"I'll never understand how you didn't fucking say it. It was all I could fucking think about, every time we talked it was like a blaring fucking alarm," Richie made his voice a little louder and more robotic, "-I LOVE EDDIE KASPBRAK, I LOVE EDDIE-"

"Because I have self-control, unlike you, idiot," Eddie snapped, playfully, "-but it wasn't fucking easy. It was the first thing I said to you, don't you fucking remember? Or is your memory-"

"Of course I do," Richie interrupted, seriously (noting that there was a gas station the next exit), "-I'm never gonna fucking forget that. Probably ever."

Eddie's lips snapped shut, and a silence enveloped the car. Richie paused, Was that too serious?

"Are we stopping anywhere soon?" Eddie asked, something in his voice that Richie couldn't name.

"Yeah," Richie's eyes flicked to the fuel gauge, "-Imma fill up at this next exit. Why?"

Eddie decidedly didn't answer that, and soon enough, Richie pulled off into the exit and then into the gas station. There wasn't much chatting, but Richie was a little focused on getting where he needed to, so he didn't note it.

With a breath, he pulled up to a pump and parked.

"Are we parked?" Eddie questioned -pointedly.

Richie furrowed his eyebrows, turning to Eddie and unbuckling his seatbelt, "Uh, yeah, wh-"

Before he could finish the sentence, Eddie launched himself forward and kissed him. So fast that Richie barely fucking blinked, and took a moment to understand what was happening. When he did though, Richie laughed. Eddie pushed forward (a little like he was craving it which made Richie's head swirl), but it only made it worse -in between kisses he laughed even more.

"Stop fucking laughing at me," Eddie finally separated, now fully over the gearshift between them -angled to match Richie's face, and smacked his chest.

"It's just you fucking-" Richie laughed, before retorting with a suggestive eyebrow raise (it should be noted that Eddie kissed him after each word with a cute little frown), "-My serious voice get ya hot under the collar, Mr. Kaspbrak?"

"Maybe," Eddie pulled back, but not too far, "-plus, I like when you drive. You do that thing where you stretch your arm out to look behind the car and-"

Richie was grinning, and Eddie’s voice faltered -frown flat on his lips (cute little cheeks puffed up). Fuck, I love him-

"-Fuck you, asshole. Sue me for being attracted to my boyfriend."

God.

"I love the fuck out of you, Eddie Kaspbrak," Richie laughed, putting one of his hands on the side of his face and pressing their lips together again. A slower kind, deliberate.

Richie felt Eddie relax into him, frown dissipating and the tight grip on his shirt lessening (his hands laid flat against his chest after a moment). And he was losing his shit a little that he could do that to Eddie. Because what the fuck-

With a breath, and when Eddie seemed completely... well, calm (if that made sense), Richie pulled back. And he relished in the second that Eddie stayed there -eyes still closed like he was waking up from a dream. God, Richie felt so fucking powerful-

His eyes fluttered open, brown resting on Richie -affectionately (lovingly, even).

"You satisfied, Eddie baby?" Richie laughed, "-That work for you for a while? Because I really gotta go get some gas and then we gotta drive a lot more-"

"You're such an asshole," Eddie scoffed, still a breath away, "-See if I ever let you kiss me again."

"You sure you can hold yourself to that, Spaghetti?" Richie leveled laughing a little, voice a lower than necessary whisper, "-If I remember correctly you kissed me first-"

"Shut up," Eddie puffed out his cheeks -lips in a thin line and pink crawling up his collar. He leaned forward a kissed him again, a surface-level kiss, a peck. A little like he needed it to physically survive, and you know what, Richie did too-

"Okay, okay, Eds," Richie laughed pulling back again -hands smoothed along his face, "-I love you, I do, but we really gotta fucking fill up now."

"I know," Eddie hummed, before letting out a deep sigh and pushing himself back into his chair -Richie on instinct almost chased him, "-Let's go get gas, fuckface."

"You coming with?" Richie posed, curiously.

"Of fucking course I am," Eddie responded, instantly, "-why wouldn't I?"

"I dunno, I just-" Richie shrugged, "-I just gotta go in and pay and then I'm back out here again, it'll just be a minute."

"I wanna stretch my legs, asswipe," Eddie countered, "-Plus, I've spent enough time away from you, I'm not doing that shit anymore."

Richie grinned at him, slightly tilting his head, and he saw Eddie's eyes flick over his face like he was taking him in. Totally and completely.

He teased, a cheesy grin clear on his face, "You want some candy don't ya, Eddie baby?"

Eddie's lips fell into a flat line, and he puffed up his cheeks.

"Yeah, maybe," he spoke, quietly, before adding (and combing through Richie's hair), "-but I really fucking do want to be around you 24/7, I'm not just saying that."

"Yeah, I know, Eds," Richie laughed, smiling at him gently, "-I don't think you could physically escape me ever now. I think you're fucked-"

"Not fucked," Eddie interrupted, "-That's actually what I wanted. What I want, present tense."

And then, after Eddie wrestled him down for one more kiss, the Eddie kind where it felt like he'd been wanting to do it for decades (in reality, they'd kissed like 1 minute beforehand. But hey, you wouldn't find Richie complaining-), they finally got out of the car and loaded into the gas station.

It should be said that Eddie left with a bag full of an assortment of candy. He actually didn't even fight him to pay, which Richie was pretty stoked about (If he could, he'd take care of Eddie for life). Even if it was just tiny little things. As said before, he'd give him anything he'd wanted.

All that being said, they were back on the road -splitting some Starburst. Eddie only liked the pink and yellow, and Richie ate all the others. So Eddie would meticulously unwrap them, and instead of placing them in Richie's hand (he kept their hands intertwined), he popped them into his mouth. He distinctly had to wonder how Eddie wasn't losing his shit touching Richie's lips because he sure as fuck knows he would-

"What's your go to move?" Eddie suddenly broke the silence, and clarifying, "-Flirting with a guy."

"Does Eds want me to pull the moves on him?" Richie teased, "-Sweep you off your feet? Because I-"

"Shut up and answer my question, asshole," Eddie snapped back -popping a yellow Starburst into his mouth.

Richie pressed his lips together in thought.

"Probably try and make him laugh," Richie started, "-Just kinda warm him up, I guess."

Eddie hummed, tilting his head, "You did start talking to me with jokes."

"I did," Richie agreed, "-and I was definitely trying to flirt with you. And your cute ass freckles."

"You can barely even see them," Eddie pointed out, hand patiently waiting with an orange Starburst (Richie's least favorite if he was honest, not that he'd tell Eddie that because he wasn't sure if Eddie would then try to eat them himself).

"Yeah, but they're there," Richie reasoned, "-and the sunny skies of San Francisco will get those babies out for me to love-"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever fuckface," Eddie shoved at his shoulder with the side of his hand -carefully of the candy, "-What about when you're actually trying to flirt? After the whole fucking... warm up."

"Uh," Richie blew a raspberry, "-I'm actually not fucking... sure, Eds. I don't... I don't think I'm great at flirting."

Eddie laughed, "Yeah, right, asshole."

"I'm serious," Richie relented -honestly.

Eddie stared at the side of his face, blinking, "You're so fucking stupid."

"Jeez, Spaghetti, I didn't-"

"Shut up," Eddie quickly interrupted, "-You're so fucking... charismatic and nonchalantly confident. It's fucking... hot."

Richie laughed a little in disbelief (but he believed Eddie wholeheartedly), "Nonchalantly confident?"

"God, you do it all the fucking time," Eddie paused for a second, maybe trying to explain, "-It's just... Like when you called me fucking... beautiful. I was trying to fucking embarrass you, and you just... doubled down. Confident as shit."

"That's-" Richie paused, "-I mean, I just meant it."

"You were being confident," Eddie annunciated, "-and it's hot as fuck. There's no way you don't pull that shit out."

"Well," Richie echoed, carefully, "-I did with you, apparently, and that's all that matters to me, personally."

Those words settled in the air for a second.

And then Eddie pulled their intertwined hands to his lips -kissing the back of Richie's hand. It made his heart skip a beat, so incredibly tender and fucking... loving.

"Your turn, Eds," Richie finally said, playfully, "-What are your moves?"

"Batting my eyes," Eddie answered simply, popping the Starburst into Richie's mouth (his lips tingled for a second too long), "-and probably the whole bullying thing. If you count that as flirting."

"I definitely fucking do," Richie clarified, before commenting on the other part, "-and your eyes are fucking... enchanting, you have the longest eyelashes in the world. You could probably make me do anything if you just fucking looked at me-"

"You'd do anything for me just by me fucking... existing," Eddie laughed a little -popping a pink Starburst into his mouth.

"And your eyes are definitely a fucking part of that," Richie pointed out, before agreeing, "-But yeah, just you being you makes me want to rip the moon out of the sky and give it to you."

"You know what that would do to the world?" Eddie laughed -throwing the Starburst wrapper into their makeshift trash bag.

Richie smiled, and wished he could kiss him then, "I would end the world for you, babey~"

"You're such a dumbass," Eddie kept laughing, as the road twirled ahead of them.

They drove for a few more hours until night fell. Well, actually, a little past that, which took a lot of convincing on Richie's part. But Eddie did eventually cave. At like 11 though, Eddie nearly grabbed the wheel himself to pull off. So, they ended up at a little hotel, one that Eddie was... okay with. Richie would've liked to make him more happy with it, but he actually was pretty tired -although, he made sure not to show Eddie that. Or tried to anyway (he was pretty sure Eddie could tell).

Eddie led him to book a room, hands intertwined -grabbing the keys and guiding him to the door. Richie was holding his bag, and only his on his shoulder (Eddie had told him just to bring his, "I'll just wear something of yours", he was decidedly not thinking about it). And then, they were off -tucked away into their room.

Both dressed, Richie threw himself into the bed and Eddie was going through his nighttime routine (he might have not had his bag, but he did have the 'necessities' or so he says).

Eddie was rubbing something on his face, probably a moisturizer. And Richie was watching him through the doorway -light trinkling into the room, as he leaned against the pillow. Eddie was wearing his clothes, a soft graphic tee that was a little too big on him and some gym shorts that hung too far on his legs. Richie almost fainted, but luckily he is currently, wrapped into the comforter -face peeking out (along with what he could imagine was an insane amalgamation of hair on his head).

"Eds," Richie called, sing-songy, "-Spaghetti, Eds, Eddie baby-"

Eddie snapped to him, face glistening with whatever he was putting onto it, "What, dickweed?"

Richie didn't say a word, just extending his hands forward and opening and closing them into fists. Grabby hands, like a toddler when they wanted to be picked up.

Eddie stared at him -blankly, he tried to keep his lips in a frown but Richie saw them quirk up.

"Are you serious?" Eddie spoke -flatly (or trying to be).

Richie ignored him doing it again, stressing out the words, "You know you wanna, Eddie baby."

Eddie laughed a little then like he couldn't help it -a flush bubbling up his skin. Big brown eyes skimming along Richie (lovingly, if he had to describe it), he tilted his head slightly to the left. Richie felt like he wanted to rip out his heart and give to Eddie. It's his anyway-

Instead of responding, Eddie turned to the sink and scrubbed at his face. Richie watched with a warm kind of smile, watching as he patted his face with a rag (his own packed one, of course). He put it back into his tiny little zipped bag that Richie somehow was cute. Because, of course, he did.

And with a breath, Eddie made his way to the bed -staring at Richie the whole way. It made Richie smile brighter.

Until he stood by the edge of the bed (the left side, naturally), brown eyes heavy on his -Richie wanted to squirm a little because he was just so... seen. Known, really. Had he ever been fucking known? Totally and completely-

Eddie stepped toward the bed, leaning forward slightly. With the gentlest of hands, he cupped Richie's face -all soft fingertips (because of course Eddie's skin was fucking soft). Richie leaned into the warm as much as he physically could, and it made a smile smooth across Eddie's face that made Richie's head spin. He just made him feel so-

Eddie interrupted his thoughts, warm (it made Richie's heart melt a little), "I love you so fucking much."

Richie grinned, brighter than before before turning his head to kiss Eddie's palm once, "I love you too, Eds."

"God," he huffed out (and it made Richie laugh), before gently taking his glasses off his face, "-You can't sleep with your fucking glasses on, dickweed."

With a breath, he turned to put them onto his, not Richie's, side's nightstand (funnily enough). Richie opened up his arms and Eddie climbed into them -unhesitantly. Richie near immediately tugged him into his chest -making Eddie giggle a little and the sound made him physically want to explode. Love, love, love, love-

Eddie turned to face him -brown eyes heavy on him. Richie must've looked a little tired because-

"We should've stopped earlier, huh," Eddie hummed, bring up his hands to trail along his face (Richie's eyes slipped shut because Eddie was Eddie and he loved him and he was touching his face).

"Maybe," Richie echoed out -not bothering to open his eyes (all he could smell was strawberry and it was fucking bliss-).

"Yeah," Eddie hummed again, maybe more passive-aggressive, "-You gonna fucking listen to me next time then?"

Richie laughed, cracking open his eyes -Eddie was close enough that he could see him (mostly), "Yes, dear."

Eddie rolled his eyes, and shoved into him -not far enough to move him anywhere (strangely, Richie didn't think he wanted him to really move at all), "Shut up and go to sleep."

"No pillow talk? No foreplay? Or, wait," Richie paused, "-what's the thing after sex?"

"First off, we didn't have sex. Secondly-" Eddie chimed back -sharply, which was in direct contrast of the way Eddie was looking at him (like he loved him so much he might die, in Richie's opinion), "-it's pillow talk, dumbass. You just said it."

"So, we can't ramble about the end of times?" Richie continued, midway yawning, "-Or the meaning of life? Or how, miraculously, Jennifer Aniston doesn't seem to actually age-"

"Maybe next time, Rich," Eddie hummed -gently, and brushed back some of his hair, "-I think you need to sleep."

"Yeah, okay," Richie breathed out, pulling Eddie impossibly closer to him -nose just above the rich smell of strawberries (he thinks he might be addicted), "-In the morning maybe?"

"Yeah," Eddie spoke, softer than Richie could comprehend then (all twinkly eyes and small little smiles), "-we can talk about it in the morning."

"Love ya, Eds," Richie hummed -low and barely there.

Eddie paused for a second, but Richie did eventually hear him say (in the loose caverns of his tired mind), "I love you too, Rich."

It didn't need to be said that Richie slept really fucking... good that night.

Now, they were stopped at a diner -eating lunch. It was actually pretty classy to be pit-stopping on a road trip, with the whole shiny floor, red accent aesthetic. Richie was crazy into it honestly, and Eddie was okay about it.

Until Richie bought him a milkshake.

Eddie was actually forcing himself to eat his chicken sandwich first. His brown eyes side-eyeing the shake sat to his right, pretty consistently. So much so that it started making Richie laugh a little.

"Eds," Richie interrupted the silence, smiling as he popped a fry into his mouth, "-just drink the milkshake."

Eddie puffed up his cheeks, flustered, "I need to fucking eat my meal first."

"Eddie baby," Richie leveled, grabbing his wrist, "-you can eat them both at the same time. No one's stopping you."

"I am," Eddie snapped back.

"Why?" Richie laughed, "-As a form of personal torture?"

"Well," Eddie paused, maybe realizing that his idea wasn't exactly... founded.

He pressed his lips together, before huffing out a breath -big brown eyes hitching on the milkshake (in a sort of wonder that made Richie just love him more), "Fine, whatever."

Eddie carefully pulled it in front of him and took a sip. His eyes widened like he was a kid trying candy for the first time. As a proper person with a sweet tooth, it was the sweetest option possible: birthday cake.

He took a breath and pushed the shake toward the middle of the table -excitedly, "Rich, try this."

Richie was insanely in love with him. So, he did.

It was almost too sweet for him, actually. Richie, despite the appearance, was really more for savory shit. Or sugar that wasn't really... sweet, if that made any sense. But otherwise, it was pretty good.

"Wow," Richie started nodding, pushing it gently back to Eddie, "-it's good, Eds."

"I know, right?" Eddie grinned, still so excited like a little kid (eyes twinkling with wonder). Richie wanted to scoop him up and never let him go, ever. Die with Eddie in his arms-

"I love you," Richie hummed, warmly.

Eddie blinked, a smile pulling onto his lips, "I love you too."

Richie blew a kiss to him -the obnoxious loud kind. Eddie rolled his eyes, but he was smiling -the affectionate kind that Richie really only saw for him. It was a special one, for him. He kept it right next to his fucking heart-

Bzzt, bzzt.

Richie paused, shooting to his phone -quickly picking it up to check the notification.

reddy.bevvy ✔️

Tozier

you've had 3 days with him

if we don't get pictures soon you're a dead man

Richie laughed.

Eddie peeked up then, asking curiously, "Whose that?"

"Bevvy," Richie answered, "-she wants update pictures."

"Shit," Eddie responded, "-we did say we'd do that, didn't we?"

"Yup," Richie hummed, before switching to his camera and aiming it at Eddie, "-Smile, Eds!"

"What the fuck?" Eddie hissed, frown strong on his face, and motioning aggressively with his hands, "-Give me more of a fucking warning, that's not-"

Richie snapped the picture -hand motions, puffed up cheeks and all.

He grinned, and opened up the groupchat, "Perfect."

The picture was in the middle of him talking, eyebrows furrowed with his puffed-up cheeks (which were blooming a pretty pink). Hair slightly messy, and a t-shirt (that was decidedly not his) that had some sort of comic book cover on the front, Richie thought for a second that he might be the love of his life-

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

attached image

Eddie frowned, opening the picture on Instagram, "Asshole."

"What?" Richie asked, smiling, "-You looked cute, Eddie baby."

"Fuck you."

And when he moved to look up at him, Eddie's phone was held up with the perfect angle of Richie (or what he assumed to be).

"You sly motherfucker," Richie laughed out -a shit eating grin swallowing his face.

Eddie smirked, putting down his phone and repeating, "Perfect."

Richie smiled, shaking his head and opening up the chat.

e.kaspbrak

attached image

He eyed it for a second.

It was him, obviously, with, surprisingly less-than-normal, messy hair and a peek of his white button-up shirt (which had tiny ketchup bottles scattered in a kind of pattern). But what he was kinda stuck on was the way he was staring. The way he was looking at Eddie.

There was just something in his eyes that he'd never quite seen before. Something fucking... twinkly. Happy. And god, he was so fucking happy. But Eddie? God, Eddie made him so fucking happy-

reddy.bevvy ✔️

AHHHHHH

you twoooo

benny.boy.official ✔️

so cute ☺️

mike.me.up ✔️

so glad to see you guys !!!

how far along are you on your trip?

big.bill ✔️

Trashmouth on a date?

Unexpected, but not unwelcome.

Get me a good souvenir.

stan.the.man ✔️

You guys have really been off the radar for like 3 days.

Glad to see it's with good purpose though.

e.kaspbrak

Thanks everyone!

And we're about halfway through, Mike.

Richie flashed a grin up at him, and Eddie caught his eye too. They smiled at each other for a few seconds, and if Richie had any less dignity he'd kiss the shit out of him right then and there. But he did have dignity, tragically, so-

"Here's your check," the waiter smiled, "-Hope you guys enjoyed your meal. Any to-go boxes today?"

"Yes, yeah," Richie quickly answered, "-and can I get a to-go cup for his milkshake?"

Eddie interrupted, motioning to his cup, "There's not enough for that, Rich."

Richie eyed it for a second, before deciding, "Can I get a to-go milkshake then? It can be on a separate check if it needs to be-"

"Richie, you don't-"

"Yeah, no, of course," the waiter (he feels like he should've known their name) grabbed the check, "-and I can just update this for you. Everything will be just a second."

"Thank you," Richie chimed, and he turned to Eddie -who was frowning at him.

"You didn't have to do that," Eddie spoke, briskly, "-I already had one."

"Well, I love you and you liked it," Richie shrugged, accepting the to-go boxes handed to him (handing one to Eddie), "-Just accept it, Eds, for me. Because I want you to have it."

Eddie's lips pursed for a moment before he smiled a little, "Okay. Just this once, asshole."

"Agree to disagree, but-" Richie hummed, putting his fries and some of the appetizer into his box, "-thank you for accepting my love, Spaghetti-"

Eddie rolled his eyes, frowning at him in a way that Richie could tell was hiding a smile, "I hate you."

"Do you?" Richie raised an eyebrow, sipping from his cup and grinning.

Eddie pressed his lips into a thin line, and letting out a frustrated sigh, "No."

Richie laughed -head tilted back and eyes squeezed shut. Racking through his lungs, he felt happy tears in his eyes because fuck, he loves Eddie Kaspbrak. So, so much.

Eddie started laughing too, "You're such a dickhead-"

And in a separate groupchat, a conversation went entirely unnoticed.

big.bill ✔️

Where did they go?

reddy.bevvy ✔️

probably making out

stan.the.man ✔️

Ew.

reddy.bevvy ✔️

you're literally married ???

stan.the.man ✔️

Yeah, but they're in public.

benny.boy.official ✔️

I don't think Eddie would let Richie kiss him in public

mike.me.up ✔️

I dunno they're batshit crazy for each other

stan.the.man ✔️

We all know Eddie's all talk.

He probably actually kisses Richie more than the other way around.

reddy.bevvy ✔️

can confirm

I talk to Eddie regularly and he wanted to jump him before even meeting up

and now he can so

it is entirely possible

mike.me.up ✔️

they could have some class and be like in the bathroom or something

stan.the.man ✔️

Do you know Eddie at all?

big.bill ✔️

Yeah, you've known him way longer than me, and even I know that he wouldn't use it if he had to.

And to kiss in there? Yeah, no way.

benny.boy.official ✔️

where else though ?

reddy.bevvy ✔️

probably the car

stan.the.man ✔️

Ew. Again.

big.bill ✔️

Not all of us can be classy, Stan.

Sometimes making out in the car is just the cards you're dealt.

reddy.bevvy ✔️

exactly Bill

it's very them, and I think that's all that matters

benny.boy.official ✔️

I'm happy for them 😊

big.bill ✔️

Ditto.

They're like the only two people in the world for each other. So, I'm glad they got that.

stan.the.man ✔️

Rich is the happiest he's ever been.

I know I joke, but I'm really fucking happy for them.

mike.me.up ✔️

yeah they deserve that happiness

reddy.bevvy ✔️

I love them both so much ❤️

so glad they're together and happy

benny.boy.official ✔️

their future is so bright

so excited for them :)

mike.me.up ✔️

speaking of their future

bets on when they get engaged ?

big.bill ✔️

Isn't that a little too soon?

They're just moving in together.

stan.the.man ✔️

50 bucks for a year.

#reddie #watchoutwriting #reddie fanfiction #reddie fic #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it chapter 2 #it chapter one #reddie fluff #the losers club #streamer au #achievement unlocked 🔓

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beatrice-otter · 2 years ago

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Fic: Five Times Abigail Met People From the Demi-Monde, and One Time She Didn't

Title: Five Times Abigail Met People From the Demi-Monde, and One Time She Didn't Author: Beatrice_Otter Fandom: Rivers of London Characters: Abigail Kamara, Nicky, Brent Wordcount: 9,157 words Rating: General audiences Written For: opalmatrix in Worldbuilding 2023 AN: This story takes place in spring of 2014, a bit under a year after "What Abigail Did That Summer" and a few months before "The Furthest Station." Abigail is 14, Nicky and Brent are about 8. The Golden Chip of Hanwell does indeed exist, but the Fisher family are fictional. Birdylion was a great help with canon details Lavender_threads went above and beyond the call of duty as a beta and helped me brainstorm things that really brought it all together. Thank you both. At AO3. At Dreamwidth. On Pillowfort. Abigail stared at Peter. "So, what you're saying is, you want me to babysit your girlfriend's baby sisters." It wasn't an offer she got often. She wasn't exactly the girl the mums round the estate thought of when they were trying to find someone to watch their kids. At least, not the ones who only knew her by reputation. And the ones who knew her family, who knew how much help she was with Paul, they didn't want to bother her. Or hire her on a night her mum might need her, which was just about any night. "Not babysitting," Peter protested. "Bev'll be around, and available if anything happens." "Then what does she need me for?" Abigail asked.

Peter sighed. "It's hard socializing goddesses, okay. They can glamour almost anyone they want outside their family. And if they're ever going to have friends—instead of minions—they need to know how to get along with ordinary people without putting the whammy on them."

"And they can't put the whammy on me," Abigail said. After the House by the Heath, there was very little that could influence her unless she let them. That had been a bit of a trial by fire, and more than a bit scarier than she'd been anticipating when she started that investigation, but she'd come out of it with an absolute knowledge of who she was and how to maintain that even when something powerful was trying to bend her to its will. She hadn't spent much time among the genius loci, but she couldn't imagine even Mama or Father Thames being more powerful at illusions than that stupid house was.

"And they can't put the whammy on you," Peter confirmed.

"But Bev doesn't trust that, which is why she'll be around," Abigail said.

"She doesn't know you as well as I do," Peter said. "But also, the girls have had a lot of authority figures telling them when and how they can use their powers and when and how they shouldn't, and it hasn't made much of a difference. If you're the babysitter, you're just another grownup telling them what to do. Bev wants to try a different approach."

"I'm fourteen," Abigail pointed out.

"To an eight year old, that's ancient," Peter said. "You're almost twice their age. But still young enough to be the cool older kid, hopefully. Bev thinks if they like you, and look up to you, they may think it's more important to behave in a manner you approve of."

Peter knew well the impact of Abigail's Determined Face, though she tried to use it on him sparingly. She'd found that it helped, sometimes, to save that up for when she really needed it. It had more impact when the target had had less time to build up immunity. Still, Abigail had a finely tuned meter for adult nonsense, and something about how he talked was lighting it up bigtime. "And?"

"And what?" Peter asked.

"And if that's all, you would have asked me last summer when you got back from Rushpool and found out what happened on the Heath," Abigail pointed out. "Why now?"

Peter sighed. "It's Nicole," he said. "The one who grew up with the fae. She's a bit of a bad influence, 'cos she has the glamour too, and all her life she's been taught that it's right and good to use it on mortals. And there's a limit to how much they can separate her from Brent and Nicky, given their lives revolve around Mama Thames' home, even though Fleet's the one who's fostering Nicole and all three of the girls spend lots of time with other Rivers so they're not all under the same roof at the same time."

"And right now, Nicole is the cool older kid," Abigail said. "You want me to replace her."

"It's worth a shot," Peter said.

"What's in it for me?" Abigail asked. She didn't mind kids, but she wasn't all gooey over them, either. The kind of thing Peter was talking about would take a serious amount of time, and she had other things she wanted to do more. There was a whole world of things to figure out in London.

"Money?" Peter said.

"Sure," Abigail said, "and what else?" Money was always nice, and a year ago it would have been enough. But now she'd been doing odd jobs for Simon's mum for eight months, and she had quite a bit of change socked away. She hadn't spent much of it—no need to be flashy and obvious—but the security of it was reassuring. She doubted Peter and Bev would be willing to match Simon's mum's rates, anyway.

"What do you want?" Peter asked.

Abigail considered this. The big thing she wanted was magic, which he'd already promised to teach her. Her Latin was at least as good as his, now, and while Peter might want to put things off as long as possible, Nightingale would do the gentlemanly thing and insist on fulfilling the promise as soon as she proved she'd fulfilled the spirit of the bargain. "I want introductions to more of the demi-monde," she said.

"What kind of introductions?" Peter asked.

"I've read the County Practitioner records, and a lot of the books in the Folly Library," Abigail said. "But the sort of nonsense a bunch of posh white men thought a hundred and fifty years ago doesn't tell me much about where to go to find people now. Honestly, it doesn't even tell me much about what things were like then. I want to meet people. I want to see what they're really like." There was a whole world out there that touched the world she'd grown up in, but wasn't quite the same, and Abigail wanted to know what it was like.

"I get veto on where we take you, and who you meet," Peter said.

"As long as you don't use it as an excuse to not take me to the cool places," Abigail said. "I get to veto any visit to something boring or something I already know about."

"Fair enough," Peter said.

One.

They needed to be strategic about things. If Abigail showed up and was introduced formally as A New Friend for the girls to hang out with, they'd know something was up.

So, instead, she was at Bev's place doing her homework in the garden when the girls walked out of the Thames in their fancy wetsuits and swim caps.

"Who're you?" one of the girls asked, wrinkling her nose up.

"Abigail," Abigail said absently, trying to figure out where she'd gone wrong. Bev had given her a hint and said to call for help if she needed it. Abigail would much rather have the satisfaction of figuring it out herself than having the answer handed to her, but the carbon cycle was proving a bit tricky. "Peter's my cousin. Bev's helping me with my science homework." She looked up. "You're Bev's sisters, yeah? I've seen you around. She said you'd be around today."

"I'm Brent," said the second girl. She was shorter than the one who'd spoken first. Her nose was broader and her cheekbones not quite as high as Nicky's, and her skin was a deep tawny brown. "This is Nicky."

"Neckinger," said the other girl with a scowl. She was a bit taller, with a sharper nose and cool brown skin. Bev had said she was currently flip-flopping on whether she'd rather be Neckinger or Nicky. Apparently it was a Neckinger day.

The air was filled with the smell of animals, and the feeling of sun on your face, and the distant hum of machinery and church bells. Underneath it was a low grinding and the chill of ice. The church bells and machines were probably Neckinger, but the animals could be either, and the ice was probably Brent, as her river dated back to before the last ice age. This was the seducere, the glamour, that all genius loci gave off to a greater or lesser degree. They weren't seriously trying anything; it was just sort of feeling her out, a test, to see how vulnerable she was. Abigail was good at tests, and even better at this sort since last summer's adventure, but that had put her off this sort of thing.

"Hey," Abigail said. "Bev's around somewhere." She turned back to her worksheet.

By the time she'd finished it and set it aside for Bev to check, Brent and Neckinger were out of their wetsuits and in jeans and t-shirts, and Maksim had brought out bottles of squash—Robinson's, no own-brand in the Thames family. Personally, Abigail thought that having Bev's devoted worshipper (and manager of her Conservation Trust) waiting on the girls wasn't likely to be much help convincing them that they shouldn't be putting the fix in any time they could.

"I want to watch Pirates of the Caribbean tonight," Neckinger said.

Brent rolled her eyes. "Again?"

"So that's your favorite movie, then?" Abigail asked.

"She likes the scenes when they're hanging pirates," Brent said.

"They used to do that, where I flow into the Thames," Neckinger said. "'S where my name comes from." She cracked open her bottle of apple-and-blackcurrant and took a sip.

"Really?" Abigail asked. "How's that?" She'd looked up their rivers of course, so she already knew the answer, but she liked seeing how people answered questions.

"It comes from 'Devil's Neckcloth,'" Neckinger said. She mimed placing a noose around her neck and made a face like she was being hanged.

"I see," Abigail said. Neckinger was a bit bloodthirsty, but no worse than some other nine-year-olds Abigail knew.

"I'd rather watch the Hunger Games," Brent said. She eyed Abigail over her bottle. "Are you staying?"

"Maybe," Abigail said. "Depends, don't it. I'm waiting on a call." She wasn't, really, or not about anything important, but the whole point was to seem cool and exciting.

"From whom, your boyfriend?" Brent asked. Neckinger went oooh.

"Nah," Abigail said. "I look into things for people sometimes."

"What kind of things?" Neckinger asked, perking up.

"Confidential things," Abigail said. "Besides my investigative skills, they also pay me for my discretion."

"No, really, what kinds of things do you investigate?" Brent asked. "You can tell us something, can't you?"

Abigail pretended to consider. "You know the house near Hampstead that was a genius loci that trapped kids in it to play pretend? That was one of mine."

"I haven't heard about it," Neckinger said.

So Abigail told the story, with suitable embellishments, and the girls were properly amazed at it. Abigail liked it better this way, as an adventure with a plucky girl hero saving the day, rather than what it had actually been, which was confusing and terrifying. But the fact that it made her feel better to tell the story that was reason not to. Abigail would rather have the hard truth than the comforting story. But she needed the Thames girls to be impressed.

"Tell us another one!" Brent said.

Abigail had other stories, but none were adventures on anywhere near that scale. And many of them were private, or confidential. "Nah," she said. "That one doesn't have a client, so it's fine to tell. But like I said, I get paid for discretion."

"You can tell us something, though," Neckinger said. "What about the case you're working on now?"

Abigail looked to either side, as if checking the bushes for eavesdroppers. There weren't any, she knew; the foxes had some sort of business of their own that was keeping them busy tonight, which they hadn't shared. She leaned closer to the girls. They leaned towards her. "Can you keep a secret?" Abigail said quietly.

Both girls nodded vigorously.

"So can I." Abigail gave them a smirk and leaned back again.

Brent pouted.

"You can tell us," Neckinger said, with the weight of her river behind her.

Abigail's expression didn't change.

"Tell us," Brent said, adding her own pressure.

And that was interesting; either she was trying harder, or she was more powerful. Abigail wondered if it was because her river was longer and had more water, or because it was open instead of underground, or maybe it was that the river they called Brent today had been carving out a place for itself for the last half a million years, and the Neckinger had only existed for a bare thousand or so. And maybe it was only that two orisha acting together multiplied their powers, instead of adding them.

But no matter which explanation was true, even together their pressure didn't add up to the overwhelming power of that stupid house's memories.

Abigail waited until it was clear both girls had noticed she was unmoved. "You know, that house by Hampstead Heath wanted me to be a nice obedient puppet, too."

Brent looked stricken at the analogy, but Neckinger was less moved.

Abigail stared them both down. They'd been told often enough that there were boundaries, and that forcing someone to do something they didn't want to do was well past them; they knew—or should know—that they'd been in the wrong.

"Sorry," Brent said, looking down. Neckinger muttered something that passed for an apology.

"Apology accepted," Abigail said. She gathered up her homework. "I'm going to go find Bev." Both as a matter of strategy and as a matter of pride, she wasn't going to hang out with people who did that to her. If they wanted stories so badly they'd try and force it, they wouldn't get any, at least not on this visit.

She'd definitely earned her pay this time.

Two.

"What do you know about the Quiet People, who live in tunnels below London?" Abigail asked Indigo. They were sitting in the bushes in the park across the street from the Kentish Town West Underground station. Since making friends with the foxes, Abigail had started hanging out in parks a lot more.

"Not much," Indigo said. "We observe and report, but they're better at blending in in the city than we are."

"Yeah, but you both live underground," Abigail pointed out, scratching Indigo in her favorite spot. "Your dens and their tunnels never cross?"

"They're a lot further down than we are," Indigo said, "and we don't use the trains like they do. Why do you want to know?"

"Peter's taking me to meet some of them," Abigail said. "The kids who come up to the surface for school and to get used to the light. And maybe they'll let me visit their tunnels, if they like me."

"That would be interesting intelligence," Indigo said.

"I'm sure it would be," Abigail said, but if she paid the foxes for intelligence, she certainly wasn't going to give them any for free. Not when it wasn't what the foxes called an operational matter. It was the principle of the thing. Though obviously they wouldn't be trading for food. "Maybe if you have interesting things for me, I might trade. Things I find interesting," she clarified, because they sometimes had very different ideas of what was important.

"I'll have to check with my superiors," Indigo said.

"Fair enough," Abigail said.

Indigo left, and Abigail took the Tube to meet Peter.

…

Peter'd warned her the Quiet People were, well, quiet, but she hadn't really thought they'd be this quiet. The whispers were honestly getting to her.

"Is it true that you all have sex before fifteen?" Molly Ryan said so quietly Molly almost couldn't make out her words despite the fact that Molly was right next to her. She was about Abigail's age, dressed in jeans and an embroidered white blouse with a high collar that could have passed on any BBC costume drama without question.

"No, of course not," Abigail said quietly back. "Where did you hear that?" They were sitting in a circle, with Peter and the teacher talking quietly in the corner. Her introduction had turned quickly into an interrogation as the other kids peppered her with questions about what life was really like on the surface.

Molly flushed as the other kids snickered. "John Digger said—"

"I think we all know why he'd say that," one of the other girls muttered scornfully. She was wearing modern clothes, except they didn't look quite right, and from her posture Abigail thought she might be wearing a corset under her T-shirt.

"Well, obviously, but at least he's been out on the surface by himself," Molly said. "He has friends up here! All I've done is ride the Tube."

"Couldn't you look it up on the internet?" Abigail asked. "I know you've got computers here." Wi-fi might not work in their tunnels, but it definitely worked in their classroom on the surface, and there were three computers set up in the corners. They were even oriented so that the person using them had their back to the wall, and nobody could see what you were doing with a casual glance, which Abigail approved of.

"The internet's full of lies, though," Molly whispered. "I wasn't sure I'd find a reliable site. I'm not that good at telling the difference, yet, and I certainly wasn't going to ask for help." She glanced over at Peter and the teacher, and shuddered.

"You could go to a library," Abigail said. "That's more likely to have reliable sources. You'd need a card to check books out, but even without one you can read any book in the library as long as you do it in the library."

"What's a library?" one of the boys asked. Abigail thought his name was Riley; he was dressed like he'd just stepped out of the 19th Century, with brown wool trousers held up by suspenders, and a collared shirt with a neckerchief.

That took a bit of explaining, and most of the kids seemed really excited by the idea of a place they could get books for free. Abigail was a bit taken aback, but then she realized that not only did they not have the internet down in their tunnels, they wouldn't have TV or radio. Books would be a form of entertainment they could bring home with them. So Abigail told them about the different genres of fiction, so they'd know what sort of things they might like to try when they got their library cards, and looked up which libraries were closest to which tube stations.

"So what do you think about the surface?" Abigail asked, when all the questions about libraries and books had been answered. It was the question she'd wanted to ask since she learned about the Quiet People.

The kids had a wide variety of expressions. "It's alright, I suppose," muttered Riley, wrinkling up his nose. "But everything's so ugly. And plain. You don't decorate anything."

Everyone nodded, which surprised Abigail. After all, they lived in a dark hole in the ground with pigs. Even if it was neat and tidy, how nice could their tunnels be?

"There's so much cool stuff, though," said one of the girls who was wearing jeans and a hoodie. Abigail hadn't caught her name.

"If you can afford it," someone whispered.

"It's so expensive, and doesn't even look good," the girl with the excellent posture said. "What even are they doing with all the money? Have you seen those condos for rich people? Big glass and steel boxes! I know they can afford to make things look nice, so why don't they? What's the point of building anything if it doesn't satisfy the soul as well as the body?"

A murmur of agreement went around the circle.

"I'm glad we can come up more easily, now," Molly said. "I'd like to meet more people. I like that I have the chance to learn more, and maybe have a job outside the tunnels. But mostly, I just want them to run lines down so we can get electricity and TV and the internet."

There was another round of nods and agreement.

Now Abigail was even more curious about their tunnels. Even granted that people tended to like things that were familiar, she'd expected them to all think the surface was cooler. It had more space, more stuff, and the sun.

That visit didn't end with an invitation to their tunnels, but they did ask her to come back the next time they had school and she didn't. Although, she wasn't sure whether that was because they genuinely liked her and wanted to know more about the surface, or because they liked sitting around talking instead of doing schoolwork.

…

"Make any friends?" Peter asked as they drove back to Russel Square.

"Maybe," Abigail said. The Quiet Kids were alright, but none of them really stood out to her. "Apparently nobody's ever told them about libraries, before."

"Really?" Peter said in surprise. "I'd have thought that would be the first place they'd have a field trip to."

"Do they have field trips?" Abigail asked. "And also, Miss Ten-Tons is a Quiet Person herself. Even if she's got regular textbooks to teach from, how would she know about things like libraries?"

"And Lady Ty aside, Zach's their big contact, and I doubt he's much for libraries," Peter said. "If I talked to Miss Ten-Tons about organizing a field trip, would you be interested in going along?"

"Maybe," Abigail said. "Depends on how busy I am. Who's Zach?"

"He's a … honestly, I'm not sure how he'd classify himself, but I know that calling him a 'goblin' is an insult," Peter said. "Does a lot of odd jobs around the demi-monde, knows everybody, compulsively moves all the time."

"Can I meet him?"

"No," Peter said firmly.

"Why not?" Abigail asked.

"Because your mum and dad would kill me if they found out I introduced you to a petty criminal like Zach," Peter said.

"You didn't say he was a criminal, and he must be at least sort of reliable if he's the main contact for the Quiet People School," Abigail said. Someone who knew everybody was likely to be an interesting and useful person to know.

Peter grumbled a bit, but was unmoved.

At least for now. She'd have to work on him a bit.

Three.

The second time Abigail came over to hang out with the Thames girls went better. This time, she'd been running errands with Peter on a Saturday and he'd wanted to see his girlfriend, who happened to be supervising Brent (but not Nicky) as they did … some River thing both Abigail was unclear about. So they met up for lunch in Hanwell, and Peter and Bev gave her and Brent money for lunch and let them wander off while Peter and Bev chatted.

"But don't bother Mrs. Canal," Bev told Brent and Nicky sternly. "I mean it."

"It was all in fun!" Brent protested. "Mrs. Canal wasn't even that bothered!"

"Bothered enough to talk to mum about it," Bev said. "I'm not getting a chewing out like the one Effra got, and if there's one thing you can be sure of—" she fixed Brent with a gimlet eye "—it's that water flows downhill. Got it?"

Brent muttered an agreement, and Abigail and Brent wandered off. "Who's Mrs. Canal?"

"Orisha of the Grand Union and Regents' Canals," Brent said. "Descended to her river about the same time Mum did, and I don't know the story there, but they have an aggro. Fleet and Ty are even worse about the whole thing, which I think is just jealousy. Mrs. Canal may be a man-made feature and only two centuries old, but she's all above-ground and she's got a lovely flow rate and she's longer than both of them put together. The fact that she's not even human just makes it worse."

"By 'not human' do you mean, like, fae or something?" Abigail asked.

"She's an orangutan who escaped from the London Zoo in the 60s," Brent said. "Now she lives in a terrace in St. Mark's Crescent and has a devotee named Melvin Starkey who lives with her and takes care of stuff."

"I didn't know an animal could be an orisha," Abigail said, trying not to sound too startled, trying not to think too hard about why a human and an orangutan might want to live together. Then she realized Melvin was probably only devoted to Mrs. Canal in the way that Maksim was devoted to Bev. And also, if a house could be a genius loci, why not an orangutan? "What other kinds of things can be orisha, do you know?"

Brent shrugged.

"Do you have any followers?" Abigail asked.

"Yeah, but not like that," Brent said. "And mum says me and Nicky can't try for any until we're at least twenty-one. Unless we're being threatened and need to defend ourselves … and she gets to decide afterwards if it was a genuine danger." She sighed at the injustice of it.

"Where are we getting lunch?" Abigail asked. It had been half-past one o'clock when she and Peter had found Bev and Brent. It wasn't that she was hungry, but it was an excuse not to comment on the idea of worshippers. Just because she found the idea mildly creepy didn't mean the worshippers did. Maksim really enjoyed his current life.

"Chippy just down the street," Brent said.

The Golden Chip of Hanwell (with a blue awning proclaiming it had been selling traditional fish and chips since the 1890s) was your typical hole-in-the-wall chip shop, taking up a storefront just wide enough for a door and a window, with cream and black tile on the walls and gray tile on the floor, and just enough space inside the front door for a few people to stand at the counter.

When they walked in, Abigail wondered if they'd stepped through a time warp or something. It wasn't just the décor. The girl behind the counter was white, and at her cry of welcome two more white people poured out of the back. This might be the last white-operated chip shop in London.

"Lady Brent!" The girl behind the counter curtseyed. Literally curtseyed, like something in a costume drama. "You honor us with your presence!"

Brent inclined her head regally, as if this were no more than her due. "This is my friend Abigail Kamara," she said. "Abigail, this is Charlotte and Dean and Chloe Fisher." She turned to the woman who'd come out from the back. "How're things along this stretch of the river, Charlotte?"

Charlotte began filling Brent in on all the gossip in the neighborhood, most of which was desperately boring to someone who didn't know any of the people involved or live in the area, but Brent listened gravely. They talked about development plans, and how the river was doing, and the rash of petty street crime that had started up. Abigail listened and didn't let the mundanity of the gossip or the grumbling of her stomach distract her from filing away everything she heard. You never could tell when some bit of knowledge might come in handy, and this was a shop that worshipped orisha—who knew what other oddities might be lurking.

At last their conversation wrapped up with Brent telling them there was something wrong with the water mains down the street, and to call the council to have them send someone to take a look at it.

Then Brent blessed the chippy. The Fishers knelt, the pipes gurgled in the walls, and Abigail hung back awkwardly, trying not to fidget. She didn't want to be rude, Miss Margot had done a fair bit on respecting peoples' faiths, but also, they were worshipping an eight-year-old girl Abigail knew for a fact had an underdeveloped code of ethics.

To make things even more awkward, the bell at the door rang as a white woman in a hoodie wandered in, yammering away on her mobile. She paused, eyes going wide as everyone turned to look at her. "Is … is the shop open? I'm sorry to bother you?"

Brent smiled. "That's fine, we're done."

Abigail could feel the warmth of the coming summer breezes fill the chip shop, and underneath it the grinding ice of glaciers past, and gritted her teeth. But the customer smiled happily at Brent.

"Your usual, L—Brent?" Dean said.

"Yes, thank you," Brent said. "And the same for Abigail." Abigail found that a little presumptuous, but on the other hand, it was a chip shop. It wasn't like it had a wide menu.

Dean nodded, and disappeared to grab their food while Chloe took the customer's order.

Dean reappeared shortly with two orders of fish and chips, light and crispy and perfectly fried, with enough hot sauce to be worth eating. Brent began happily chowing down. "So how did you come to know the Fishers?" Abigail asked as they walked out the door and began to wander through the streets.

"The Fishers have lived and died by my river since time out of mind," Brent said. "They've always worshipped me—even after the last Brent died, they stayed faithful. They used to sell eel pie, instead of fish and chips, you know. When Mum came here and found me in the river, they were waiting by the banks."

"How did they know there was a new spirit?" Abigail asked. It made her feel a little better about the whole worship thing. If it had lasted over generations, it couldn't have been compelled. It could only have been freely chosen.

Brent shrugged. "I dunno. They never said."

"Are they human?" Abigail wondered. "Do they have some sort of extra sense? Or do they just know how to read the water and the neighborhood?"

Brent shrugged again. "I dunno. Am I human?"

Abigail considered the question. "You're definitely a person," she said, because that was the easy bit.

"Duh," Brent said, rolling her eyes.

"How many people worship you like that?" Abigail asked.

"Only the Fishers stayed faithful while there was no spirit in the river," Brent said, "but a few other people have started making offerings."

"Anything good?"

Brent made a face. "Not really. Some bottles of beer, which Mum made me give to her. I wasn't going to drink it, I don't even like beer, it tastes gross. But I wanted to keep them as a trophy."

"Do the Fishers help coordinate river cleanup things like Maksim does?" Abigail took a bite of her fish. It was really very good.

"Nah, the chippy keeps them busy, they don't have time. If someone else organized an event, they'd show, but …" Brent shrugged. "Bev lends me Maksim, sometimes, and the rest of my sisters help out too when I need it. But my river's doing pretty good even where it's canalized, so they spend more time helping Nicky with things."

…

The Golden Chip of Hanwell had an active Facebook page and was mentioned in several articles about what a nice neighborhood Hanwell was. The Fishers, also, had all the sort of social media presences one would expect. Chloe was in Year 10 at Elthorn Park High School, and her Instagram had a lot of pictures of her out running the tow path by the river Brent.

Abigail messaged her and, on a nice day they didn't have school, she met the older girl at the Brent River Park Walk for a run.

"So you're Brent's friend, then?" Chloe asked as they stretched.

"Sort of," Abigail said. "My cousin Peter is dating her sister Beverly Brook."

"Your cousin is dating a goddess?" Chloe sounded shocked.

"Well, it's not like he worships her, or anything," Abigail pointed out. "And he's a practitioner with the Folly, so she can't glamour him, and he's got a bit of power of his own to balance things out."

"Yeah, but there's a difference between having a bit of power, and being a goddess," Chloe said. "Even when you're talking small-g-goddess, not, like, ultimate power of the universe or anything."

Abigail shrugged. "They seem happy together."

"I suppose," Chloe said dubiously, and started off jogging. Abigail had to stretch her legs a little to match her. "Mum's uncle married a nymph who lived near Warren Farm, and that wasn't happy even before her grove got cut down and she died. But that was partly because nymphs change with the seasons—in fall and winter she was alright, and even sometimes in summer, but in spring—she had the mind of a child, and that made things hard."

Abigail could imagine. "Did her body change too, or just her mind? And when you say 'child,' what age are we talking about?"

Chloe shrugged. "She died before my time, so I don't know. His second wife was a regular human woman, and they had two kids together and moved to Wokingham."

"Where's that?" Abigail asked.

"It's some dire hamlet off the M4 near Reading," Chloe said.

"Ugh," Abigail said.

"There is nothing to do there," Chloe said. "But she says, it's a great place to raise kids, and he says there aren't any memories, so they're happy."

"Aren't there a lot of trees out there?" Abigail said. "I'd think there would be more chance of nymphs there than there would be in London."

"I don't know," Chloe said. "If there are any, I've never met them."

"Peter met a nymph, once," Abigail said. "Her name was Sky, and her grove was at Skygarden. Her grove got cut down, and she died. Just before the terrorist attack."

"That's so sad," Chloe said. "And it's not like they're rivers, where a new spirit can be born as long as the river survives. When the trees are gone, the nymph is just … gone."

"Yeah," Abigail said. "And they couldn't charge the people who cut Sky's trees down with murder, because how would you explain to a jury that nymphs are real? So Nicky—that's the River Neckinger—killed them. They drowned on dry land, in the middle of a London street."

They ran in silence for a bit. "When Aunt Elma was killed, there was no chance of a murder trial, either," Chloe said. "Except there was no spirit in the Brent River then, and Mrs. Canal didn't take any notice. No chance for justice either way."

What did you say to that? There wasn't anything. Abigail had a lot of questions, but she always had them, and now wasn't the time. Better to bide her time and build a relationship, then you got the possibility of more later.

"Where do you run, mostly?" Chloe asked, after a bit.

"Hampstead Heath," Abigail said. "Sometimes Regent's Park or Hyde Park, if I'm down at the Folly and want to stretch my legs."

"So, are you going to be a wizard, then?" Chloe asked.

"Peter's promised to start training me as soon as my Latin is good enough, which it pretty much is," Abigail said. "And they're using me as an unpaid intern at the Folly, organizing and searching through old records and things."

"They should pay you," Chloe said. "The Isaacs have lots of money, don't they? I get paid for working in the family chip shop."

"It didn't start out with a formal job offer," Abigail said. "I was just hanging around, and they put me to work. A lot of it's interesting, or funny, even the stuff that's wrong. And eventually they're going to pay me with lessons."

"Still," Chloe said.

"I like figuring things out," Abigail said. "Which the Folly's records sometimes make harder than it should be. Those old white men in the 19th Century were pretty clueless sometimes."

Chloe laughed. "That fits with the stories granny used to tell about the Isaacs," she said. "None of it was good. Are we in those files?"

"Not that I've seen," Abigail said, "although there's still a lot to go through, most of it not even indexed. They do talk a bit about people who worship genius loci, and it's mostly along the lines of you all being gullible fools mesmerized by tricks and glamour."

Chloe laughed again. "I'd like to see anyone try to put one over on my dad," she said. "That would be funny, it would."

"Does the glamour affect you, then?" Abigail asked.

"I doubt it," Chloe said. "Unless it was something really powerful. I mean—" she stopped and took a big gulp of air, squinting.

Abigail could feel her, just a bit. It wasn't like a river, but there was something there, something solid. Like a great big stone rooted in the ground under their feet. Smaller and less powerful than a river, but there all the same. She wondered where it had come from, how long it had run in the family. "I felt that," she said. "So, could you influence someone?"

"Nah," Chloe said.

"Bev's got a worshipper, his name's Maksim," Abigail said. "He used a Russian mobster. Someone sent a whole squad of them after Bev, and they spent the rest of the day cleaning her place. He stuck around after it wore off. Now he takes care of her place and does stuff for her river."

"Like Melvin, with Mrs. Canal," Chloe said. "But that's not the only reason to pay your respects. You live by a river, it's always good to have that river on your side. Better than having it against you."

"True," Abigail said. "But I wonder where your immunity came from. Did your family always have it, or did you develop it as defense against orisha and things?"

"Orisha?" Chloe asked.

"Spirits, local gods, genius loci, that sort of thing," Abigail said. "Like rivers."

"No idea," Chloe said. "We've always been here, and we've always been this way, far as I know. But it's not like there's anybody but my gran and maybe Brent who would know."

They fell silent again, and Abigail focused on her breathing. She wasn't used to long, endurance runs; did a lot more sprinting, up and over the Heath. But Chloe wasn't going that fast, and she was determined to keep up.

"It was nice to have company," Chloe said as they came to the end of their planned route. "And nice to have someone I could talk to about things. Do you know anybody else around our age who's special?" Chloe asked. "Other than the rivers, of course."

"There's the Quiet People," Abigail said. "They live in tunnels under the center of London, have done for over a century. They can move earth."

"Like on that Avatar cartoon?" Chloe asked.

"Dunno," Abigail said. "Never seen it. Anyway, they've got a whole big community there, and they've started up a school above-ground so they can choose to live outside of the tunnels if they want. There's a whole lot of kids and teens. They're a bit odd, like something out of a history show on the BBC, and they don't like bright lights, and they don't like loud noises. But if you're interested, I could introduce you. And if you're willing, they may be having a field trip to a library, soon, and could use some people to help keep things on track."

Four.

Bev was having a river cleanup day, and Abigail had been volunteered to help out. So had Brent, Neckinger, and all of Fleet's foster kids, including Nicole. Their job was to walk the banks of the river, pick up trash, and keep a lookout for various plant and animal species Bev wanted a count on. Abigail was entrusted both with the roll of extra bin bags and the clipboard to list things they spotted. Both went in her backpack until called for.

Once Bev had given them their marching orders, they fanned out, with Brent and Neckinger (who was Nicky, today) closest to the river and Abigail and Nicole further up the bank. On the other bank were Fleet and the rest of her kids.

"If I'm going to be picking up trash, I'd rather be doing it in my own watershed," Brent said.

Nicky shrugged as she grabbed half a Styrofoam container and stuffed it in her bin bag. "I'd rather pick it up now than after it's been in the river forever," she said.

"Maybe Bev will organize a day for everyone to go do this in Hanwell," Abigail said.

"And what about my river?" Nicky asked. "Nobody's going to come do a cleanup of my river."

"Talk to Fleet," Abigail said. "She knows how to handle things when you're underground."

"What you need is better clean water standards," Brent said. "Not a trash pickup."

Nicole, Abigail noted, was not actually picking up any trash. "You missed that one," Abigail said as Nicole walked past a plastic bag caught on a twig.

Nicole shot her a withering glance. "I'm not a servant," she said.

"None of us are," Abigail pointed out. She grasped a piece of paper with her pincer, and put it in her bag. "You think you're too good to get your hands dirty?"

"Obviously," Nicole said.

"Don't have to get your hands dirty, that's the whole point of the pincers," Abigail said.

"Still not a servant."

"And neither are we," Abigail said. "If you're not going to help, then go back to Bev and tell her so. Or Fleet."

Nicole heaved a loud sigh and rolled her eyes.

"I'm serious," Abigail said. "If you're not going to help, we don't need you here. You'll just get in the way of the people who aren't lazy and pretentious. Or are you too scared of her to stand up to her?"

"I'm not scared," Nicole said. "Not of you, uggz girl, nosy parker, wizard's toady. And not of a river, either." (Though she didn't insult any of the rivers, Abigail noticed.)

Abigail gave her the look her mum used on doctors or nurses or social workers or whoever when they weren't listening or talked down to her because they lived in a council flat.

Nicole held out for a bit, but then she made a face and muttered "fine," under her breath. She stomped over to the bag she'd walked past, yanked it off the twig, and stuck it in the bin bag. "Happy now?" she said snottily.

"Sure," Abigail said, though she was disappointed that Nicole had stuck with them instead of leaving when she was challenged.

"I didn't have to do anything like this back home," Nicole said. "We had servants at home to wait on us."

"What was it like?" Abigail asked. "Where you grew up."

"It was big, and wild, and free," Nicole said. "Nobody ever made me do anything, and we'd ride wherever the Queen wanted and play games with the trees." She sighed. "And I had all the pretty clothes and things I wanted, and servants to dance rushing to meet my every whim. It was lovely. Not like here." She whacked a tree with her pincer. "Where the trees are dead and I'm forced to work like a slave."

"Pretty sure the actual slaves in the world get treated a lot worse than you do," Abigail said. This was the girl Brent and Nicky were looking up to? She was so whiny. "All you're being asked to do is pitch in and help with the same work everyone else is doing."

"It's demeaning, the way the goddesses here work," Nicole said.

"So, like, how did people become servants where you're from?" Abigail was pretty sure she already knew. "Was that a job choice or was it an aptitude thing?" If Abigail found herself in a foreign land, no family, no friends, but there was another English person around, she'd want to meet them. And from what Peter had said, Molly was probably closest to the kind of fae Nicole had grown up with, while Thistle was very different. But Nicole had never come to the Folly to meet Molly.

"Of course not," Nicole said with a sniff. "Some fae are simply born inferior, and their place in the Queen's domain is to serve their betters. Fleet tells me that it's different among humans, that no human is naturally subservient." The look she gave Abigail said she plainly doubted that.

There were all sorts of things wrong with that statement, and Abigail could give her chapter and verse on why people liked to label others as inferior—Miss Redmayne was really thorough about power dynamics and who benefitted from them and how. But Abigail thought some other subject might be more useful. "So, what was your place in the Queen's domain? She was your mum, wasn't she? Were you a princess?"

"The Queen rules alone, and the Queen is immortal," Nicole said. "She has no need of an heir. I was a beloved favorite."

"Beloved favorite, but she traded you away for the other Nicole easily enough," Abigail said. She'd heard the whole story from Peter, when he'd got back. "Was she going to change the two of you back, eventually? Or was the plan always that you were going to live in the human world?"

Nicole didn't answer. Which was answer enough.

"Seems to me the Queen's way is pretty rotten, if it led her to raise a girl for twelve years and then trade her in for a new model," Abigail said.

Nicky broke the silence. "There's a Snake’s head fritillary," she said, pointing to a small purple and white flower.

Abigail got out the clipboard and noted it. "Thank you, Nicky," she said.

Five.

Bev hadn't showed up yet when the bee lady arrived at her house. Abigail didn't mind, because it was a nice day—the usual spring drizzle had let up—and Sugar had been keeping her company while Abigail sat in Bev's garden and enjoyed the rare sun.

The bee lady—Melissa Oswald, granddaughter of Hugh Oswald, rusticated practitioner—drove a mud-splattered car obviously chosen more for its reliability than its style, and Sugar ducked into the bushes when it pulled into Bev's driveway.

Melissa was short and thick, with short hair bleached and dyed a variety of fading colors, wearing tight jeans and a low-cut black shirt. She got out of her car and frowned at where Sugar had disappeared. "You know foxes can have worms and other parasites, right?" she said. "And some of them can be passed on to humans."

"They're pretty clean animals," Abigail said. "And I wash my hands after petting them." If she thought they might have parasites, she'd never have allowed them in the apartment where Paul might catch it.

"Still," Melissa said. She walked over to where Abigail was sitting on the ground and studied her. "You're not a river."

"Nah," Abigail said. "I'm Peter's cousin, Abigail Kamara."

"Bev said you're curious about all sorts of things, and that you were helping her with Brent and Nicky," Melissa said.

"Sometimes," Abigail said. "Bev's not here yet, and Maksim isn't either." Bev was supposed to introduce them, and help guide the conversation to the questions Abigail wanted to ask.

"Bev called me a couple of minutes ago, said she was running late," Melissa said. "And that you'd be here, and you'd probably have questions for me. About me." She sat down cross-legged beside Abigail on the grass and leaned back on her hands.

"I'd offer you something to drink," Abigail said, "but I don't have a key, and Maksim's not here." Though really, as much time as she was spending here these days, she ought to have one. Between Bev's school and her river patrols and the other stuff she had to do as a river goddess, her schedule was pretty erratic. Maksim was usually around, but even he disappeared sometimes.

"It's fine," Melissa said. "How's Peter?"

Abigail shrugged. "Same as always, except now he's buckling down to study for his detective exam, so he's even more boring than usual."

Melissa laughed. "Tell him hello for me, when you see him."

"I will."

Melissa lay back on the grass and closed her eyes, breathing deeply.

Abigail studied her. Bev had invited her here to meet Melissa because Melissa was special. Something to do with bees, though neither Bev nor Peter had been very clear on what exactly that meant. Abigail closed her eyes, breathed slowly and evenly, and waited to see what she felt.

It took a few seconds to notice. It was quiet, and subtle, but there was a drone like the sound of a busy motorway in the distance, low and constant, but with a subtle ebb and flow that felt organic. It wasn't quite like the way the rivers felt, and it wasn't anything like when Peter or Nightingale were casting a spell.

"What brings you to London?" Abigail asked. "Bev didn't say."

Melissa shrugged. "Just for a visit. Bev's a friend, and it's nice to be around someone who's a little like me. We're going out to a pub later, meet up with some others."

"Like you," Abigail said slowly. "So, are you a genius loci for bees?" Abigail asked.

Melissa snorted. "No. But I'm not exactly normal, am I?"

"What are you, then?" Abigail asked.

"Hell if I know," Melissa said. "I'm myself. That's enough."

"Yeah," Abigail said.

"But it is nice to have friends who understand what that's like. There are plenty of odd people in the countryside … but very few of them are odd in the way that I am."

"Not many who have magic, you mean," Abigail said. "Or are magic, or do magic."

"I thought it was all stories my granddad told, when I was your age," Melissa said. "When I was visiting him, I'd lie awake in my room and listen to the bees hum outside my window, and wish I were magic. It would be an adventure, I thought, and it would give me a reason for why I didn't have an easy time making friends. Then I realized I was magic, at least a little bit, and it wasn't romantic and it didn't lead me to any grand adventures or anything. It was just one more thing making me different to all my classmates."

"Why didn't you come to London, then?" Abigail asked. "You can find anything in London."

"Still have to know what you're looking for, don't you?" Melissa said. "It's not like my sort of people put adverts in the phone book, and it's not like my granddad would've known where to look. Also, as a general rule, I tend to prefer places where the bees are happy and thriving, so it's not like I was going to move here or spend enough time to find them on my own. I grew up in Birmingham, and that was too big for me. London would be worse. So now Bev and I trade visits."

Abigail couldn't imagine not wanting to live in London, but she supposed that if everybody lived here, there wouldn't be anyone to grow their food, and also, things in London would be even more crowded than they were.

Bev walked up out of the river, waterproof bag over her shoulder with all her school things. She sometimes commuted to Queen Mary University that way, depending on how much she had to carry with her, because it could be quicker depending on traffic and also it allowed her to combine her commute with a quick patrol. (She always complained that it would be much easier if she could swim down Regent's Canal to the Thames, but apparently Mrs. Canal would consider it trespassing and there would be trouble.)

"Sorry, had to deal with some knobs throwing garbage in Mum's river in Putney," she said, stripping off the oversized swim cap that covered her dreads as water streamed off her. "Let me just get changed."

"No hurry," Melissa said. "It's a beautiful evening, and you have a lovely garden."

Bev said thanks, and went inside.

There was, Abigail noticed, a bee sitting on Melissa's nose.

"So, if you're not the Spirit of the Bees," Abigail said, "how do you commune with them?"

"I just do," Melissa said. "I trust them, and they trust me, and we work together to see that the hives are safe and have everything they need to thrive. And the honeybees give me honey in return."

There had to be more to it than that, because the bee on her nose was a London bee, and how would it know Melissa to trust her? Could it feel her, in some way?

"Bees are smarter than you think, but they don't care about a lot of things humans care about, and the reverse is also true," Melissa said.

The same could definitely be said for foxes, which made Abigail wonder if the bees Melissa worked with were as different from other bees as the talking foxes were from regular foxes. "What do they care about?"

"The hive," Melissa said. "A single bee on its own is dead. No future. No place to live, no way to store what it collects, no way of creating the next generation. It's only when they come together and form a hive, and each bee plays its part, that there's any meaning to life."

"So, are you here in London trying to find a hive to be part of?" Abigail asked, trying to find the common thread of Melissa's conversation.

Melissa laughed. "I'm not a bee, I'm a human," she said.

"A community then," Abigail said. "Bees aren't the only creatures that do better in groups." Foxes could live alone, but talking foxes rarely chose to; the same was true of humans and all the others she'd met in the demi-monde.

"Yes," Melissa said. "Even here, nobody's exactly like me, but at least they know what it's like to be different in this way. And besides, I doubt any two humans in the world are exactly alike. People aren't like bees, that way."

And One Time She Didn’t.

Abigail had half expected Sugar to come out of the bushes once Bev and Melissa had left, but she hadn't, so Abigail had walked down to the bus stop at the end of Bev's street for the hour-and-twenty-minute trip home.

By the time she got off the Northern Line at Kentish Town station, twilight had set in and it was almost dark. She'd texted her parents, so they knew where she was and weren't worrying, but she was hurrying anyway because the temperature was dropping and she was getting cold.

As she turned into the estate past the playground, she saw a low, red form streak across the green to a nearby bush.

"Hey," Abigail said. "It's just me. Tell Sugar goodnight for me?"

But there was no answer. And as the fox darted to the next bush, she realized why: it wasn't a talking fox, it was too small. Just an ordinary London fox.

She hoped nobody had been around to see her mistake, and went home.

#fanfiction #fanfic #rivers of london #five things

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komca · 2 years ago

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another cinderella story & a cinderella story : once upon a song : the soundtrack versus brought to you by lee

best opening song : run this town (ouas) best karaoke song : new classic (acs) best song : knockin’ alternate version (ouas) best song-performance : make you believe (ouas) see comments under the cut v important most iconic soundtrack : acs corniest : ouas biggest skip : possibilities (ouas) + on hold 4you (acs) the one i’d unironically listen to on loop : acs

tally : ouas (+3 ; -2) ; acs (+3 ; -1)

so another cinderella story wins (everyone act surprised)

find the individual ratings under the tag this is so very serious to me and i think my comments are funnie

thank you, and goodnight <3

once upon a song

- run this town --> 7/10 ; EXCELLENT BRIDGE ; repetitive ; too long tbh ; autotune <3 lol - bless myself (best lead song) --> 9/10 ; power anthem ; love the energy ; BRIDGE !!!!! ; HYPE - make you believe --> 8/10 ; +0.5 for what stage direction :)) ; "i swear there's no doubt i'm legit, there's no conterfeit" AFTER BEV IS LIPSYNCING that's CINEMA - knockin (normal version) --> 6.5/10, good but not really doing anything - extra ordinary --> 6/10; corny but it's a silly little song so ;)) - oh mere dilruba --> without the movie >>>> - possibilities --> -5/10, his voice just annoys me so much omg... + so corny and i hate the melody of the chorus ; SKIP - twisted serenade --> 5/10 ; a little something different, but the being just after possibilities makes it sounds like x times better than it really is imo - knockin alternate version --> 1100/10 ; best song ever actually ??? ; excellent delivery, harmonies on point ; just 10s accross the board - crazy girl --> 6.5/10 ; just a silly little fun song ; very victorious-esque if that makes sense

overall : flows very well, corny like but it's on brand so whatEVER ; absolutely loath luke's singing so YEAH

another cinderella story

- tell me something i don't know --> 8/10 ; KARAOOOOKEE ; the better opening song imo - new class (single & live) --> 100/10 ; YOU'RE THE NEW CLASSIC YOURE THE NEW PYT STANDS FOR PAID YOUNG TAKING ON THE WORLD FROM THE DRIVER SEAT ; BANGER ; JUST HYPE ; - hurry up and save me --> 7/10 - just that girl --> 9/10 ; pay me i'd make a mv out of this - bang a drum --> 7/10 ; FUN!!!!! if you can't picture the scene fix that immediatly go watch the movie - 1st class girl --> 10/10 ; i love feeling like i'm in a 00s mv ; bootleg justin bieber and ludacris duo fr - on hold 4 you --> -5/10 i tuned it out my bad - valentine's dance tango --> 7/10 yassss instrumental - no average angel --> ???? i always forget about her but she's decent - don't be shy --> 8/10 - x-plain it to my heart --> 8/10 YEAH ?? YEAAAH ? - new classic accoustic --> 7/10, she's cute, not same impact as single/live version lol

#lee's bs #very serious discussion #i'm a hashtag professionnal #having drew seeley was alr an advantage lbr...

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babyboibucky · 4 years ago

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The Match - Part 8

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: You get a preview of what it’s like to be working with Mackenzie.

Warnings: I apologize as there is no smut in here lmfao but there is a stubborn Bucky lols

A/N: The jitters just never go away whenever I post a new part for this ajkcnjasncakjcnakj I find this part boring tbh but uhh things will start picking up again in the next part I promise

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky decided to push through with his partnership with Wilson Enterprises. It was a big one, so it definitely required the entire team's effort and perseverance. Apparently, this is the company's biggest, most major project yet so this was going to look really good in your resume. It would also provide you with more credibility to further excel in your career.

Except that Bucky actually hired a marketing consultant to take over the entire project as his revenge.

"Any questions? About the project or about Kenzie?" Bucky asked, standing in front of the conference room, next to Mackenzie.

You confidently raised your hand when no one else did. Bucky tilted his head, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He knew you were affected, of fucking course you were!

"Yes?" he called out.

You stood up and sighed softly, "I mean this in the most respectful way, Mister Barnes." you said, emphasizing his name. "But as the head of marketing, what exactly is my role here? Given that Mackenzie was hired to spearhead the marketing aspect of this project." you said, giving Mackenzie a passive aggressive smile.

"I don't want to overstep on some boundaries here, that's why I'm asking. I just want clarity, that's all." you said.

Bucky was about to respond when Mackenzie stopped him, grabbing his arm and squeezing it before taking over the floor. You narrowed your eyes at how her slender fingers were wrapped around Bucky's arm.

"Honey..." Mackenzie started. "There's nothing to worry about, this is a collaborative work between you and I. So think of yourself as my assistant, someone to help me out with the project." she responded.

Bitch.

"I'm not an assistant, Mackenzie." you said, smiling at her.

Mackenzie laughed, "I'm sorry, my bad. I shouldn't have used that term. Oops." she said. "Although, I believe I have more experience in this area so maybe consider me a mentor?" she suggested.

Bitch!

Bucky cleared his throat, "If you have certain ideas, you can discuss it with her. She is a consultant after all. Given her impressive experience in the field, I'm sure you'll learn a thing or two from her."

The meeting was wrapped up by noon and you simply couldn't wait to get yourself out of the conference room. You didn't feel like talking to Bucky anymore in all honesty, not after what he was doing. You knew this was just to spite you, get you to cave in first and give in to him.

All the more that you wouldn't, especially not when he actually used your job against you.

Everyone started rushing out of the conference room, ready to head out for lunch. As soon as you reached the doorway, you overheard the short conversation between Bucky and Mackenzie.

"Hey Bucky, we still up for lunch?"

The bathroom was empty when you stepped inside and thank god for that because you couldn't hold back your emotions any further. Tears gathered in the corner of your eyes, not because you were hurt. Fuck no, you were angry and frustrated. So fucking angry at yourself for getting into this mess, at Bucky for being such an entitled prick, at the entire world for plotting against you.

You groaned in irritation as you wiped away your tears, sniffing as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

You worked your ass off for this job, for your position. You risked your dignity when you let Bucky fuck you. You weren't going to let someone take that away from you.

You quickly fixed yourself when the door opened, followed by the loud clacking of someone's heels.

"Omg, are you crying?" Beverly gasped, rushing over to you.

You snickered, "No." you lied, "My eyes are itchy." you huffed out before noticing that Beverly was holding a sandwich in her hand.

"Why did you bring your sandwich here?" you curiously asked.

Beverly shrugged, "The pantry's full and the other girls don't exactly seem to like me...so..."

You shook your head and sighed, "Come with me, let's have lunch out. I need to get out of this fucking place anyway."

"Yay, omg! I knew you were nice! You're like, the only girl who actually talked to me nicely." Beverly said, tagging behind you as you exited the bathroom.

"Oh, there you are!" Mark called out. "I was looking for you. Wanna grab lunch? Oh...who's this?" he asked, noticing the blonde girl trailing behind you.

"I'm Beverly! I'm Sir James' new secretary." she introduced excitedly.

You sighed, "Don't ask me why." you said when Mark turned to you with a confused look, still not sure what happened to Bucky's previous secretary.

"So, lunch out? With Bev?" you asked.

You were completely zoning out during lunch despite the ongoing conversation between Mark and Bev, something about yoga? You honestly couldn't care less, not when you were feeling so conflicted about your current situation.

Would Bucky actually go that far just to get you back? Or does he actually hate you for saying no to him and is basically using his authority to make your life a living hell?

"So I heard about the new girl." Mark said, that snapped you out of your trance.

"Huh?" you asked.

"I find it weird for Mister Barnes to hire someone when you're here." Mark pointed out. "I mean, are you okay with that or..."

You snorted, "Fuck no. Look, I'm not gonna be the bigger person here. I was offended as fuck." you admitted.

"Yeah, it's super weird because she was hired through Tinder or something. Is that even legal?" Beverly pointed out as she scrolled through her phone.

You and Mark turned to her abruptly, "Tinder? Wait, what?" you asked.

Beverly chuckled, "I heard them talking this morning and Kenzie was like, 'It's so funny that we matched on Tinder and ended up doing business there you know' and I'm like omg Sir James has Tinder and I have one too but I never saw him there, bummer."

"Motherfucker." you hissed out.

Mark made a face, "Are you okay?" he carefully asked. "You've been really tensed since last week."

Apparently, Bucky never deleted his Tinder and have been swiping right on women. And that's how he met Mackenzie who just happened to be a marketing consultant. Now you were just furious, was he fucking her too? Has he been fucking other women this entire time?

"Hey, Bev..." you said, a plan hatching inside your mind. "Can I ask you a favor?" you asked nicely.

Beverly nodded, "Um duh, you're basically my office BFF now."

"If you ever hear Mister Barnes and Mackenzie talk about hmm, I don't know...something interesting. Maybe about the project...me 'cause you know, I'm the head of marketing and Mackenzie’s in the same field...let me know, will ya?" you asked.

Mark chuckled nervously, "I don't know what's going on but isn't that an invasion of privacy?"

"She's not going to eavesdrop, Mark. She'll just...listen closely." you explained.

"Bev might get in trouble if Mister Barnes finds out." Mark warned.

You waved a hand, "She'll be fine, Mark. She's his secretary, she has to know everything. Besides, I'm not going to let her get in trouble, if she does then I'll take care of it."

Beverly squealed in delight, "Omg, you are not my office BFF. You're like my office mom! You and Mark are literally my office parents." she said, lifting her phone up in the air.

"Selfie! This one goes to the 'gram." she said, taking a quick photo of the three of you.

She then proceeded to edit the photo while you and Mark continued eating lunch.

"Bev, you should really put your phone away and eat first. We have less than half an hour left for lunch break." Mark called out.

Beverly groaned and rolled her eyes, "Way to get into the role, Mark. You're such a dad."

You snorted, "Yeah. Loosen up, daddy." you teased.

"Playing family after just one date, huh."

Bucky's presence in the same restaurant should've really intimidated you, most especially that he just witnessed you tease Mark like that. But you were too mad at him to even care, what was the point even? He didn't believe you even when you told him the truth that Mark was just a friend.

Why even try now?

"Hi Sir James." Beverly greeted happily.

"Mister Barnes." Mark acknowledged.

Bucky ignored them and kept his eyes on you. You didn't falter under his gaze and simply stared back at him with blank eyes. It's as if a staring competition took place when the both of you merely looked at each other, neither of you looking away nor attempting to do so.

"How was that date last Friday, Jim?" Bucky asked, his eyes still trained on yours.

Mark made a funny face at the name that Bucky called him but shrugged anyway. Before he could even respond, you decided to answer on his behalf. If Bucky wanted to spite you, you'd give him a taste of his own medicine.

"It was actually great. We might go on another one this Friday." you said.

"We are?" Mark asked in a whisper.

Bucky's hand landed on Mark's shoulder, "Don't count on it, Andrew. She's going to be doing a lot of work on Friday due to the project." he said through gritted teeth.

You shrugged, "Oh, but I thought Mackenzie's doing all my work?"

"I'm ready to head back, Buck."

Speak of the devil herself. Mackenzie weaved through the tables and approached Bucky, her face brightening up when she saw you, Mark and Beverly.

"Oh, hey you." she greeted you. "Look, I think we may have started off on the wrong foot earlier. I'm not here to take your job, just here to spice things up a bit. Improve your ideas, give Bucky some assistance." she chuckled, holding onto Bucky's arm yet again.

You fought back the urge to grab your glass of water and throw it at her face. As the saying goes, kill them with kindness. So you merely shrugged and extended an arm for a handshake.

"Of course. I would love to improve your ideas as well, you know. Just a healthy discourse between two marketing professionals. We good?" you said.

Mackenzie forced out a chuckle and reached for your hand, "We’re good. I look forward to working with you." she said before turning back to Bucky who was still gazing at you.

"Let's go?" she asked sweetly.

Bucky smirked at you before wrapping an arm around Mackenzie's waist, guiding her out of the restaurant the same way he did to you. You were too focused on Bucky's body language around Mackenzie that you failed to notice that Mark was watching you closely, your expressions and how you reacted towards Bucky.

"I think I know what's happening."

"You what?!"

"Shhh!" you hushed Mark and peeked out of the empty pantry to make sure the coast was clear.

Mark noticed the tension between you and Bucky and he came to a conclusion that the both of you dated at one point. He wasn't really wrong but he wasn't right either. So you decided to tell him everything, from the moment you matched with Bucky on Tinder until your last conversation with him last Saturday.

"I honestly thought you were dating, I didn't know there was sex involved. No wonder he had been calling me weird names." he said incredulously. "Was that you and Mister Barnes that Janet reported to the HR?" he asked, stifling his laughter.

You groaned, "Yes. Ugh, gave me a panic attack when I found out about that incident report." you said.

"Hey..." Mark called out. "Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me this. Your secret is safe with me." he reassured.

You nodded, "I think it was about time that I told someone about us anyway. This whole situation is driving me crazy and I don't know what to do next. And I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess, I shouldn't have said that we were going out again. I don't want you or your job getting compromised because of our petty fight." you exhaled.

You had to admit, you felt so much better now after confiding with Mark. It somewhat alleviated the weight on your shoulders, knowing that there was someone aware of what you were going through. Who would've thought that this person would end up being Mark? You did have friends outside of work of course, but you felt like they all wouldn't really understand the situation.

Half would hate you for rejecting Bucky and the other half would hate you for even swiping right on him.

"Do you mind an unsolicited advice?" Mark asked.

"Not at all." you said.

"Ignore him. Don't let him or Mackenzie get to you. Do what you do best, you're great at your job and you'll be fine. That might get him to realize that you're not a prize to be won. And if he still doesn't see that, then that's his loss. You're more than just that hot marketing girl at work." Mark said.

You laughed at his last statement, "Hot marketing girl at work?" you asked, shaking your head.

"It's true. So if in any case you decide to ditch the CEO and move on, you know where to find me." he joked, throwing a wink your way.

You wanted to finish all your reports so you could focus on the huge project so you decided to work until around nine in the evening. The floor was already empty by the time you were done. Bucky seemed to be working too, given that he was still replying to e-mails at this hour. Wanting to get all the reports over with, you decided to submit it to him before going home.

During the elevator ride to Bucky’s floor, you couldn’t help but wonder whether he was alone in the office. Would Mackenzie be there with him? Even at this hour? Your grip on the folder tightened at the thought of catching them in the act.

But did you have any right to feel this way though?

Brushing off the thoughts, you exhaled loudly and prepared yourself for whatever it was you were to witness. Upon reaching the door to Bucky’s office, you slightly turned your head to listen to anything. It was quiet. No hushed whispers nor strained grunts-- they weren’t fucking, thank goodness for that.

You decided not to knock and just walk inside like you used to, reminding yourself of Mark’s advice.

Don’t let Bucky get to you.

When you saw Bucky hunched over his desk, typing away on his e-mails instead of bending a certain brunette somewhere in his office, you had to admit that you were relieved. He looked up and his eyes looked dead tired, you almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

“You should really learn how to knock.” Bucky called out, slamming his laptop shut.

“Look, Bucky. I was just rushing to submit these reports so I can go home.” you explained and placed the folder on top of his desk.

Bucky frowned, “I said to call me Mister Barnes.”

You huffed out, “I honestly don’t care, Bucky. I’m not playing your damn games anymore.” you said and turned around.

A hand on your arm pulled you back, harshly turning you around to face Bucky. He was fuming, as usual. At this point, you were no longer fazed.

“You think I don’t know what you’re trying to do?” he asked.

You clenched your jaw and pulled your arm back, “I’m not doing anything. You bring in Beverly or Mackenzie or whoever it is that you have up your sleeve. I don’t fucking care. I just want to focus on work.” you said and stepped away.

“And you should too, Bucky.” you added.

“I don’t believe you.” he said.

You sighed, your shoulders dropping from exhaustion at this whole shenanigan. “I’m done, Bucky.”

And with that you turned around to exit his office, leaving Bucky unsure whether you truly meant what you said. A victorious smirk graced your lips as you walked back to the elevator.

You were far from done.

The Match Special Tags:

@marvelslag @weird-mumbling @propertyofpoeandbucky @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @mostly-marvel-musings @squishybabies @megzdoodle @suchababie @annathesillyfriend @xhollycowx @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @5-seconds-of-mendes @gogolucky13 @countonthesun @iloveshawnieboi @learisa @borikenlove @scarlet-natasha89

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @im-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2 @unmagically @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes @iloveangstposts @weenersoldierr @asemistablehundredyearoldman @reidbuck @lizzarooni @girlfriday007 @bonkywobble @lost-in-the-stars03 @its-yasbxtch @whoth3hellisbucky

#bbb writes #the match #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #fem!reader #sebastian stan

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celeste-fitzgerald · 3 years ago

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The Electric Light Orchestra - ELO (album review/fangirl session)

I've decided to go ahead and start doing reviews of ELO albums for funsies (aka I am very bored right now haha). I use the term "review" very very loosely. Basically this will just be my very subjective, random thoughts on the songs. This is 100% my own opinions and I expect (and invite) people to disagree on lots of this.

And one more big disclaimer: I have a tendency to pay no attention to lyrics when I listen to songs. There are exceptions of course, but a lot of the time I have no clue what they're saying. Which means there may be times when I'll be like "oh wow this song is so pretty" when in reality it's a song about, like, death. Hopefully I won't screw up that bad, but if I make a bad error, please politely correct me!

With all that out of the way, here we go!

10538 Overture: 8/10 I'll be honest - the first time I heard this one I was unimpressed. It was so different from the ELO songs I was used to, and I didn't really understand the hype around it. But it started to grow on me a lot. It just sounds so...epic. The orchestration feels so full and heavy (thank you to Roy Wood and his army of cello overdubs). And I think it's a perfect encapsulation of ELO's vision to combine classical instruments with pop/rock music. Also, the god damn FRENCH HORN. I swear to god, you can't go wrong with french horns. Listen for the horn, it makes it all so much more dramatic and ahhhHHH.

Look at Me Now: 7/10 Hello, Eleanor Rigby (I'm sorry that's all I think of when I hear this one ahaha). More seriously though, this is probably the song from the album that gets stuck in my head most often. There was definitely one day last week when I kept going about my business and then suddenly bursting out into "aHHHH, LOOK AT ME NOOOOW." I just find it super catchy for some reason. And the oboe!! The oboe fits so perfectly with this one, I love it!

Nellie Takes Her Bow: 4/10 Eh. This one doesn't really capture my attention for some reason. Also it's very long, and a bit disjointed. The piano sounds quite nice though, and I like Jeff's voice in it. If someone has a favorite part of this song or something, please let me know so I can listen for it and maybe find a reason to love it.

The Battle of Marston Moor (July 2nd 1644): 5/10 I'm not particularly fond of the song itself, but the story behind the recording of it makes me laugh a bit. Bev refusing to play on it because it was so, in his own words, "appalling" is kind of hilarious to me. The song itself is interesting, but it really just sounds like an entirely orchestral song to me and feels out of place on the album.

First Movement (Jumping Biz): 9/10 I adore this one! It's just so much fun! Lovely little instrumental track with gorgeous guitar work. Plus...I think it's an oboe again? I could be wrong though. But it's a very interesting little oboe riff and it fits super well. I just all-around love this song.

Mr. Radio: 3/10 I have conflicting thoughts on this one. I feel like it's probably objectively a really good song, but there's something about it that just gets on my nerves. And I have no idea what it is. I just really don't like it lol.

Manhattan Rumble (49th Street Massacre): 6/10 I really like the heavy, driving downbeat in this song. I do enjoy this one a lot, but it's not one of the standout tracks on the album for me.

Queen of the Hours: 7/10 Okay the string parts in this have to be inspired by Mars from Holst's The Planets, right?? Please tell me I'm not the only one who hears it. Anyways, I quite enjoy this one! I love the vocal parts when it goes up high, it sounds really cool. Just an overall great song.

Whisper in the Night: 10/10 AB.SOL.UTE.LY. GORGEOUS. My favorite on the album by far. It's so heart-achingly beautiful. And my god, Roy's voice is stunning on this track. So passionate, and the vibrato, god damn. It's just...SO good. Breathtaking. Perfect. And the way the choir comes in on "angels sing." AAAAHHHHHHHHH. IT'S SO GOOD.

Overall: 7/10 The album has definitely grown on me a lot since the first time I listened. I was initially caught off-guard by how unpolished it felt compared to ELO's later albums, but now that I've adjusted to the sound, it has a very nice charm to it.

Feel free to let me know your thoughts on any of this! And yell at me if I dissed your fave track XD

#elo #electric light orchestra #jeff lynne #roy wood #bev bevan

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theood · 2 years ago

Note

I am sorry to hear you are doing so terribly and going through a hard time. I am holding you in my softest thoughts and sending hugs from a tumblr pal. regarding your image request here is needle felted halloween mouse.

;; Ven this is really super sweet thank you 🫂. I wish I could more eloquently say so but just. Thank you.

I really like this little mousie. I've been listening to a man Read the Coraline book and it makes me think of that 8).

It's been my "noise to sleep too" podcast when I don't put on r/slash (it's because I miss Bev and he played those)

#elias answers

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nepobabyjimkirk · 3 years ago

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Without further ado, the official ranking of Star Trek CMOs based solely on how much they could Get It, from me specifically:

1. SNW M’Benga - I’ve known this man for 2 days but he could absolutely certifiably get it. Don’t @ me, you know I’m right

2. AOS Bones - early movies preferred but honestly I’ll take whatever

3. Bev Crusher - marry me, ma’am. Thank you TNG for the milf content

4. Hugh Culber - not my typical type but a good looking man without a doubt (is he actually cmo? Who knows but for the purposes of this list he is)

5. Bashir - this pains me to admit as he annoys the shit out of me, however it is the simple truth

6. TOS Bones - I guess? Idk how to explain this but he looks exactly like my dad despite not having the same face or hair. He can’t get it from me, but the list is kinda devolving rapidly from here

7. Phlox - not really my type, but good for him

8. Voyager EMH - white bread man. Does negative for me

9. T’Ana - she’s a cat and I’m not a furry

#i didn’t include him cuz he’s not a cmo but the rios emh would be somewhere between 2 and 4 on this list #don’t @ me i’m right #kenz ranks

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lizamango · 3 years ago

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Together Again (Bucky Barnes x Reader) 2/8

A/N: Hi everyone, here’s the second chapter!

Word Count: 1976

Warnings: Mentions of sex but NO SMUT, please read responsibly!! Major fluff, angst for reader and you’ll see why 👀 be prepared for tears

Summary: Bucky finds himself in the town of WestView where not everything is as it seems. But does that really matter if you find yourself reunited with the one you love?

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter Summary: Y/N and Wanda meet a new friend at a tea party for the town fundraiser while something strange happens to Bucky and Vision.

Chapter 2: THAT DARLING WIFE OF YOURS

The planning committee and Y/N follow Dottie out of her house with all the food they’ve prepared for the tea party to discuss the town fundraiser.

“Everybody, hurry up please,” Dottie calls out.

Y/N sees Wanda outside, waiting with Agnes and sends her an excited wave.

“Hiya Dottie! Your roses are divine,” Agnes says.

“Why thank you.”

They arrive at the country club and set up on the patio right next to the swimming pool.

Beverly makes announcements on the arrangement of the stage and audience for the talent show event later.

Dottie makes a punny, slight condescending joke and they all laugh about it.

“Devil’s in the details, Bev.”

“That’s not the only place he is,” Agnes snidely remarks to Wanda and Y/N.

“Oh Agnes,” they roll their eyes.

Some jam cookies are being passed around and Y/N takes the tray from someone she has never met here before…

“Thank you, I don’t believe we’ve met.” She reaches out the hand not holding cookies. “I’m Y/N.”

“Oh, um… Geraldine,” she smiles. “I just moved down the block.”

“Oh how lovely! Wanda moved in just yesterday!”

Y/N gestures to Wanda who smiles at Geraldine.

“Say, those pants are peachy keen!” she compliments her best friend.

“Thank you! The other ladies are wearing skirts, I was worried!”

She waves her off, “you look fabulous.”

“Says the one.”

“We only have a few hours until showtime, so a little less cross chatter and a little more focus,” Dottie calls them out.

The women quiet down in the shame, feeling like scolded children.

“Those little girls and boys are counting on us. All of this is for the children.”

“For the children.” They all repeat after her.

Wanda clears her throat after she takes a drink. “For the children,” she says belatedly causing Y/N to giggle.

“Now I want you to give yourselves a big hand-“

Wanda begins clapping.

“At the appropriate time, of course.”

Wanda meets my eyes and the two best friends try not to burst into laughter.

“The only reason I didn’t clap is because I’m afraid to move,” Geraldine states as she leans in.

“Dottie is terrifying. I wouldn’t want to get on her bad side,” Y/N agrees.

“I actually don’t know what I’m doing here,” Geraldine adds.

“I’m starting to feel that way myself,” Wanda confesses.

“And I’m irritated!” They smile awkwardly at Dottie. “Tickets for tonight are completely sold out!” There’s a pause. “Now you can clap!” That’s their cue. “and stop.”

“Really, how is anyone doing this sober?” Agnes mumbles as she sips her drink.

The announcements are over and it’s time for socializing. Dottie manages to ruin this time by having them arrange a seating chart while eating the mini sandwiches and cookies.

“I need volunteers to help clean up,” she says entitled as she sits on her throne.

“We’ll do it!” Wanda says, volunteering Geraldine and Y/N, knowing full well Agnes is too tipsy to lift a tray.

“Well, gee you are quite the whizz at this committee stuff, Dottie. We feel so lucky to have you!”

“You are.”

Wanda sticks out her tongue mockingly which Y/N catch from far away as I fix up another table and giggle with Geraldine.

“So, you’re married?” Geraldine nods to the gorgeous ring on Y/N’s left finger.

She smiles affectionately at it. “Yes, to the love of my life. Bucky Barnes. He works with Wanda’s husband.”

“Bucky Barnes…” Geraldine says in a strange, almost knowing tone.

“You aren’t hitched, I see?” Y/N observes.

“Oh, oh no,” the woman chuckles. “I’m not interested in anyone like that. Just work.”

“Oo, what do you work in?”

She acts slightly suspicious, as if she had slipped up somehow. “Communications,” she answers vaguely.

Y/N raises her brows but accept the answer, blissfully ignorant. Or choosing to be.

“How long have you lived here?” Geraldine asks.

“Oh, um…” She’s not sure. “It feels like… forever.”

A strange noise comes from behind them, interrupting her thoughts. It seems Dottie broke a glass and her hand was bleeding.

“Dottie! Are you alright?” Y/N asks.

“Just fine. Get back to cleaning.” The intimidating blonde responds as she holds a napkin that Wanda had given her to her wound and walks away.

“That was so very strange,” Wanda comments as she nears them, broken glass wrapped in another napkin to prevent further accidents.

“What happened?” Geraldine asks.

“There was something coming from the radio, the next thing I know it malfunctions and Dottie’s glass breaks!” Wanda exclaims theatrically.

“How odd. I tell you, all this modern technology… it’s spying on us,” Y/N says, suspiciously looking around them.

“Don’t be silly!” Geraldine chuckles.

“Well, we should probably head back and prepare for the talent show! Vision and I have a set to organize!” Wanda discards of the broken glass then loops her arm through mine.

“See you there!” Geraldine says, waving goodbye to her two new friends.

Bucky finds himself at a gathering in the public library with the men of the neighbourhood who, coincidentally, are people he works with too. Though, if you were to ask him what his job is, he couldn’t give a straight answer…

“Vision!” Bucky calls out, recognizing an ally… no, a friend, he corrects himself.

“Hello there, Mr. Barnes.” He approaches shyly. “Is this the neighbourhood watch meeting?” For some reason, to Bucky, the title doesn’t sound right but he doesn’t exactly remember why. Is there something he’s missing? Something he has forgotten?

“Hiya Vision, we didn’t expect to see you here,” Norm says. “this is sort of a members only type deal.”

“Ah, certainly,” Vision nods. “I’ll just be here… quiet as a church mouse… until you open up the floor for new business.”

“Oh, we were just getting there!” Bucky announces. Were we? He doesn’t know why he said that. He doesn’t even remember what they were talking about before Vision got here.

“Splendid!” he sits down and follows up with a flurry of questions regarding safety patrols, threat protocols and responses to rather alarming matters. Matters that would never be a problem in the peaceful suburb of WestView.

“Actually Vision, that’s code for getting a round of Danish,” Bucky informs him.

“Raspberry or cheese-filled?” Phil asks as he places the box in the centre.

“Oh no thank you, I don’t eat food?” Bucky and the others frown in confusion. “I mean… outside of meal times! My wife keeps me on a strict meal schedule. No snacking but I am a regular eating machine!”

They all begin to exchange top secret information about the other men in the neighbourhood, gossiping really. And Bucky feels out of place, strange to reveal secrets outside of a mission… Mission? The vocabulary confuses him, where did that come from? There’s something that’s not quite right.

“How is the dear Y/N?” Norm asks Bucky before he falls into a rabbit hole of thoughts and questions.

“She’s good! We’re good. You know, we’re thinking about expanding the family,” Bucky smiles. He always knew he wanted a family with her. The call of duty just got in the way. He gets flashes of war and espionage, being on the run. Running from what?

“Wow, congrats, my friend!” Herb says.

“Yeah, always wanted a big family. Come from one myself, the oldest of four. Now, I don’t know how many we’ll have but as long as Y/N’s happy then I’m happy. She was the love of my life,” Bucky says, lost in blissful memories.

“Was?” Vision asks.

“What?” Bucky frowns.

“You- you said she was the love of your life.” Vision looks to the others on the table but they seem to have missed the Freudian slip as they look blankly, nodding but Vision knows it’s not in acknowledgement of what he had just said. “Didn’t he?”

Bucky looks down at his wedding ring on his left arm. His left arm. Something is different about it. Wrong. He closes it into a fist and frowns at it.

He looks up at Vision. “She’s dead.” Saying it out loud felt like a heavy weight lifting off his chest.

“Who is? Bucky, who’s dead?” Vision asks adamantly, alarmed. He reaches to hold onto Bucky’s arm to get his attention. Suddenly he sees a shift in his demeanor.

“Well I am, if I’m late to help set up the show!” Phil suddenly announces.

“Oo you’re right,” Herb seconds as he looks at his Strücker wristwatch.

His thoughts are broken by an outbreak of laughter.

“Hey, care for a stick of Big Red?” Herb offers.

“Didn’t you hear the man?” Norm asks. “He doesn’t eat food.”

“Is gum food?” Phil wonders aloud.

“Well, it’s my understanding that it’s purely for mastication,” Vision says.

“Oh no, I don’t do that,” Herb says quietly.

“I got no need for that when I have my lovely wife.” Bucky says causing the others to laugh, Herb pats Vision on the back a little too roughly.

“You boys off somewhere?” It’s Agnes, the nosey neighbour, surprising them with her presence. Who knows how long she was really there for. She approaches the men who are gathering their belongings. She rests on the back of Vision’s chair as she focuses her gaze on Bucky.

“Hiya Agnes. Wanna walk with us to the fundraiser?” Bucky offers though this dame freaks him out a little. There’s just something off about her and her nosiness.

“Thought you’d never ask!” she says in a flirty tone.

Vision separates from them as he has to prepare with Wanda though he did walk a little wonky and acted a little funky on his way into his house.

“Don’t you find it… odd?” Agnes asks out of the blue.

“What’s that, Agnes?”

“This town. Wanda and Vision. Even you. What are you doing here, Mr. Barnes?”

He frowns at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you have the urge to leave but there’s that feeling that if you do, something bad will happen? Especially to that darling wife of yours?”

“Agnes… I’m not sure what you’re implyin’ but I’m not liking the sound of it.” His Brooklyn accent begins to show through.

“Well, don’t you want to go home, Sergeant Barnes?”

“I-“

“We’re here!” She separates from him before he can ask for elaboration.

“Bucky!” His wife calls out to him and he turns to face her, picking her up and spinning her around. She’s here. She’s safe. She smells just the same. This is real.

“I missed you today, doll.”

“I missed you too, handsome. Come on, Wanda and Vision are up next.” She pulls him by the hand to an empty table. He pulls out the chair for her to sit and he pulls his own closer to her. They hold hands on top of the table and Wanda takes the stage.

“What’s their act?” he asks her.

“Magic!”

After laughs, giggles and a round of applause, Dottie is announcing the award winners.

She calls up Wanda and Vision as they attempt to make their not so subtle escape.

“On behalf of the planning committee, I would like to award you with the inaugural Comedy Performance of the Year.” Dottie gives the couple their award and we give them a standing ovation.

“For the Children,” Norm says.

“For the Children!”

They clear up the chairs, table and stage then Y/N, Bucky, Wanda and Vision walk towards their neighbourhood.

“What a great day!” Y/N says.

“It was indeed eventful,” Wanda smiles at her best friend.

“You know what, we should have a girls day tomorrow! That would be perfect! I need to spend some time with you, Wands.”

“I would love that Y/N.”

“Well, this is us,” Bucky says. “You two have a good night.”

Y/N hugs Wanda goodbye.

“You too!”

“Oh, trust me, we will!” Bucky responds causing Y/N to giggle.

They walk in through their door.

Chapter 3

Thanks for reading! 💖💖

Support a broke writer by buying her a coffee? https://ko-fi.com/lizzieangel

#bucky barnes #buckyxreader #reader #you #fanfiction #marvel #wintersoldier #au #westview #wandamaximoff #wandavision #1960s #fluff #series #alternate reality #chapter 2 #togetheragain #series rewrite

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bleep-bleep-richie · 4 years ago

Text

part one

"Edward spaghedward!"

"Asshole," Eddie's voice comes tinny and distant down the phone, "why aren't you online?"

"Oh, is it 8 already?" Richie checks his watch. "Sorry, Eds, we've been-" He cuts off, something crashing in the background.

"Are you-" He hears music. "Are you having a party?"

"No, no, it's just-"

A female voice yells, "is that little Eddie Kaspbrak?"

"No, don't-" There's a crackling on his end.

"Eddie, my dear! You should be on speaker," she screams into the phone. The sounds from the other side amplify. "How in the fuck are you?"

"Bev?" Eddie asks. "Is this Beverly fucking Marsh?"

"Not for much longer!" She's still screaming. "I'll be Beverly fucking Hanscom soon!"

"Not soon enough," someone calls.

"Is that Ben?"

"It's Ben!" Bev confirms. "And Mike and Bill and Stan."

"Hey, Eddie!" someone yells. He thinks it's Mike.

"So it is a party."

"More like a gathering," Bill calls. His voice comes closer. "A losers gathering."

"Minus one," Richie says, grabbing for the phone. "Can I have my shit back pretty please? Thank you. Jesus." He pushes the button to take Eddie off speaker phone. "You're a hot commodity, Edwardo."

"Not hot enough apparently."

Noises muffle as Richie moves into his bedroom and shuts the door. "Sorry I wasn't on, things have been a little nuts."

"Yeah. Thanks for the invite by the way."

"Hey, no, it isn't like that, Eds. They all just showed up here." He pauses and all Eddie can hear is his breathing. "We'd never have a party without you."

"Obviously you would."

"Eddie," Richie whines. "Don't be like this. If I had it my way, you'd be here all the time."

Eddie sighs. "I know, I know that.'

"I wish you were here," Richie tells him. "Shit's weird. They're all coupled up. Or, well, tripled up in Mike, Stan, and Bill's case." He taps at his keyboard. "Hold on, I'm logging in."

"No, Rich, it's alright. Go have fun."

"No, I wanna see you. I'd rather talk to you anyway."

"It's really fine."

"I promise I didn't know they were coming."

"It's fine," Eddie repeats.

"You're mad at me."

"I'm not. Are you drunk?"

"'M not sober." There's a pause while Richie considers. If this flops, he can always blame it on the liquor. "What're you wearing?"

Eddie laughs. "Are you serious?"

"As a coronary," he says while he lays down.

"You're ridiculous," Eddie answers. He pauses before, "Jeans and a t-shirt."

Richie's grin splits his face. "Well, take them off."

Eddie sputters, "are you fucking serious? Who am I kidding, of course you're serious. I'm not taking my clothes off, you big weirdo."

"Yeah, you're right. Wouldn't want you naked without me there to see it. We can just roleplay."

"All of our friends are right outside your door, idiot."

"Ask me what I'm wearing, Eds."

"This is so-" he scoffs and then sighs. "What are you wearing?"

"Remember that hoodie you had when I was there? The one that was too big for you?"

Eddie's eyebrows bunch. "The light blue one you said made me look like a baby?"

Richie laughs. "Yeah, my little Eddie baby."

"Is that what you're wearing?"Eddie's voice is shrill. "You stole my hoodie?"

"I mean, you didn't even notice so I don't think it counts as stealing."

"Shit, Rich, I-" Eddie fumbles his phone, trying to reach for his computer without sitting up on his bed. "I need to see you in it, right now."

Richie laughs again. "Me wearing your clothes get you all hot and bothered, sweet face?"

"Fuck you. It probably looks ridiculous, like two sizes too small." Eddie falters when he sees himself in the window of the chat app.

"Nah, it's pretty comfy, actually. Ben even gave me a compliment, said it went with my eyes."

"That's stupid, your eyes aren't even blue."

Richie snorts. "Yeah, he was just being nice, but still."

The call pops up on Eddie's screen, Richie's stupid grin comes into view. The hoodie, admittedly, does somehow go with his eyes. Eddie declines it.

"Uh, I can see that you're online, dipshit. What gives?"

Eddie slams the laptop shut. "I can't, Rich. I look like shit."

"You never look like shit, dude. I thought you wanted to see this boner under my sweatshirt."

"Your sweatshirt? It's mine, you absolute douche."

"Your dirty talk could use some work, Eds."

"Fuck you," Eddie replies. He's smiling. He hasn't smiled all damn day. "No, really, not tonight. I look awful. I had a bad day, I cried earlier like a fucking-"

"Why were you crying?" Richie demands.

"I just have a lot going on. I wanted to call you, but- I dunno. I didn't have anything to say, really."

Richie considers this a moment, staring up at his bedroom ceiling. "You can always call me. You don't have to say anything."

"Oh, okay, I'll just breathe at you."

Richie blows air into the receiver in response. Eddie can see in his mind's eye the way his cheeks are probably puffed out and he laughs. "You're a fucking nutcase."

"I miss you too," Richie says. "Are you-" He clears his throat. "Are you sad because of the divorce?"

His voice is very even and completely void of emotion. It would probably fool anyone else, but not Eddie. "No, you idiot. I never even loved Myra, you know that. I feel a little guilty, sometimes, maybe, but definitely not sad."

"Just asking," Richie replies after a beat and his voice is so soft and insecure that Eddie wants to chew off his own hand.

"Richie," he tries and fails.

"Eddie," Richie says back.

He wants to say it, he really does, but something stops him everytime. Not because he doesn't mean it, he's meant it, felt it, for years- since they were thirteen. Maybe even before that. "You know," he says instead. "I've never- there's only one person I've ever- You know that."

"Yeah, I know," Richie says on an exhale. "Me too."

"Keep the hoodie," Eddie tells him, "it goes with your eyes."

part three

#WHAT IS THIS #purely self indulgent #and i've got PART 3 written already #wow i'm actually the worst #reddie #it 2017 #it 2019 #benverly #also i added my ot3 bc i can #my ot3 #otp: i'll show you a staph infection #otp: january embers #otp: i hate you #otp: got your kicks everyday #soft boyfriends #the losers club #reddie fix it part 2

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rizlowwritessortof · 4 years ago

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Riz’s Master List

Just updated my master list (finally) - haven’t added anything new for a few months, unfortunately, but I’m working on it! Links below the cut. HUGE THANKS to @firefly-graphics for the dividers, you are a GIFT, my friend!

Never Look Back

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 21 chapters

Bethany Rae Cooper didn’t realize when she met the Winchesters in her family’s bar and grill that her life would never be the same. But she’s always believed that everything happens for a reason, even if it’s not exactly what you were expecting…

The Shadow’s Edge

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 17 chapters

Sequel to Never Look Back. When the demon Dameon was killed, Dean and Beth thought their son was safe from the prophecy. But when Cas brings them news of the new battle for Hell, they realize that their war has just begun.

The Fine Line

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 34 chapters

An unexpected tragedy sends Devon down the dark path of hate and vengeance, but she will learn that things are not always what they seem…

Scars

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 10 chapters

Sequel to The Fine Line. Dean and Devon’s relationship has always been stormy - but can they work through the scars of their past to find each other again?

Stars In the Darkness

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 8 chapters

A crushing loss brings Dean and Sam to Sioux Falls, and ghosts from the past and present bring them across the path of Tiara, a girl they haven’t seen since childhood.

Dreaming

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 5 chapters

Dean Winchester has always been a bit of a thorn in Kelsey’s side - a very attractive thorn, but still… A visit at her uncle Bobby’s reunites her with the boys, and she begins having vivid dreams - about Dean. Is it just her subconscious trying to tell her something? Or is there more to it than that?

My Unimportant Little Life

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 11 chapters

Season 5 timeline. Dean gets yanked from 2009 to 2014, so he can see the ‘consequences’ of saying no to Michael. At Camp Chitaqua he meets Reggie, and is surprised to find that she comes from 2009 as well…

Back In the Saddle

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 10 chapters

Dean and Sam are back in the old west again - in answer to a cry for help from Samuel Colt. And if Dean just happens to get tangled up with the spirited redhead that owns the saloon… what’s the harm, right?

Sweet Escape

Dean/Female Reader, 2 parts

What happens when a friend jokingly does a spell at your birthday party to bring your cardboard standup of Dean Winchester to life? This one’s dedicated to my friend, Liz, who gave me the idea. If only…

Sweet Escape Part 1

Sweet Escape Part 2

Shut Up and Drive

Dean/Female Reader, 2 parts

Reader teases Dean while he’s driving, so - he gets even

Part 1 - Keep Your Eyes on the Road

Part 2 - Or We Could Park - Parking Is Good Too

Take the Long Way Home

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 8 chapters

A look at Dean and Rusty’s relationship, in the present and through their memories. Flashbacks/memories are in italics.

Black Velvet

Demon!Dean/Female Reader, Dean/Female Reader, 9 chapters

You and Sam are broken after Dean’s death. Nobody expected him to come back with black eyes…

Fade to Black

Dean/Female Reader, 11 chapters

Sequel to Black Velvet. Dean is no longer a demon, but he’s still cursed with the Mark of Cain, and the lure of that darkness grows stronger as time goes on.

Dean and Toby Series

Part 1 - The Meet-Cute (Actually Rescue but Whatever)

Part 2 - The Emergency Bed-Share/Move In With Us Combo

Part 3 - The Hit and Then Run Like Your Ass Is On Fire

Part 4 - The FINALLY Admit Your True Feelings and Get Busy

GENERIC

I’m Good

This is the story that was published in the Seasons - Supernatural Short Story Anthology in 2017. Bobby sharing some memories.

Combo Shot

Dean/Female Reader

June 2015 GIEPP (Girl In Every Port Project) entry. Prompt: Pool/Poker hustler competitive chick. Pretty much pure smut.

A Hunter Walks Into a Bar

Dean/Female OC

Prowling hunter, sassy bartender

Shelter

Dean/Female Reader

Dean providing comfort

That’s How It Should Be

Sheriff!Dean/Female Reader

They have to make a fast escape, but Dean won’t let being on horseback stand in the way of showing a lady a good time

The Storm

Dean/Female Reader

You’re terrified of storms, and Dean is concerned, feelings get shared

Pest Control

Dean/Female Reader

You think you’ve got mice. The exterminator that shows up is Dean Winchester. He’ll just let you believe that, and take care of the problem. And you.

Happy Birthday, Baby

Dean/Female OC (KK)

Fluffy, smutty birthday fic written for a friend

Gunpowder and Dean

Dean/Female Reader

You’re pissed off at Dean, taking it out on the firing range, but he just won’t leave you alone…

Juicy and Delicious

Dean/Female Reader

My entry for Dean’s Flavor of the Month fic challenge - Peach Pie. You bake some peach pies for Dean, and he’s very grateful…

Lost In You

Dean/Female Reader

A casual flirtation leads to a violent encounter, and Dean’s reaction is a little more than you expected. Warning for brief description of attempted (unsuccessful) assault. Protective Dean.

What You Need

Dean/Female Reader

You’re watching as Sam and Dean prepare to interrogate a demon. Dean knows you’re watching him, and he knows exactly the kind of effect it’s having on you…

Santa Claus Is Coming Tonight

Dean/Female Reader

Dean’s really getting into the Christmas spirit…

I Need You

Dean/Female Reader

You screwed up, Sam got hurt, Dean’s pissed and you aren’t handling it very well.

Snow Day

Dean/Female Reader

You and Dean, stuck in a motel room in a blizzard

Frisk Me

Dean/Female Cop Reader

You’re a cop, in hot pursuit of a murderer, and guess who crosses your path?

Comfort

Dean/Female Reader

Dean had a rough hunt, and he’s beating himself up as usual. You take his mind off things for a little while…

When I Think About You

Dean/Female Reader

It was a wild hunt, and you’re both a little high-strung. Surely there’s some way to blow off some steam…

One Finger

Dean/Female Reader

Dean Winchester has never been one to back down from a challenge

What Makes You Feel Alive

Endverse!Dean/Female Reader

The world is bleak, the struggle endless after Croatoan. You and Dean do what you have to do to keep going.

Sweet Misery

Dean/Unnamed Female OC

My entry for Bev’s Song Challenge - song prompt was Cryin’ by Aerosmith, lyrics at the beginning

Winchesters Don’t Giggle

Dean/Female Reader

A friend and I were having this discussion about giving Dean a back rub, and whether he might be ticklish…

Confession

Dean (Priest!Dean)/Female Reader

When Dean returns from some undercover work, you discover a fantasy you never realized you had

The Bait

Dean/Female Reader

This was written for @jessica-bones-winchester’s (now on her 100th url as @cavillanche - Love you, Jess!) Dating Dean Writing Challenge. The prompt was ‘dressing up as an anime character for his birthday.’ And I have to admit, I really enjoyed this one… Reader dresses as Sailor Mars (from Sailor Moon) for Dean’s birthday.

Hey, Man - Nice Shot

Dean/Female Reader

This is for @jessica-bones-winchester’s ( @cavillanche ) Dating Dean Writing Challenge. The prompt was ‘competitiveness in the shooting range (loser cleans the kitchen for a week) No smut.

Take the Pain Away

Dean/Female Reader

This was written for @jessica-bones-winchester’s ( @cavillanche ) Dating Dean Writing Challenge. Prompt was ‘him taking care of you when you’re sick.’ Reader falls victim to a migraine, and Dean helps her through it. No smut.

Lose Yourself

Dean/Female Reader

Smut, pure and simple… Just imagine having Dean tied up, at your mercy while you worship those perky nipples…

The Contest

Dean/Female Reader

Dean loves to give you a hard time, and one night he pushes things a little too far… Flashback in italics. All’s well that ends well.

Slow Ride

Dean (Bullriding!Dean) /Reader

Yeah, after 12x11, y'all should have known this was coming - they don’t call me Cowgirl for nothing… Written (coincidentally - timing is everything!) for the Smut Apocalypse (Smut Appreciation Day) on Tumblr.

The Photo Booth

Dean/Unnamed Female OC - Dean’s POV

This was written for @winchestersandwordprocessors SPN Valentine’s Fic Challenge. Prompt was Semi-public/Risk of getting caught.

Make You Mine

Dean/Female Reader

Dean’s jealousy gets the best of him, which is not a bad thing…

Take a Chance

Dean/Unnamed Female OC - Dean’s POV

In 7x04, Dean gives himself a little pep talk before his planned hook-up with the bartender. That scene is what inspired me. This one is more important than the usual one-nighters, and it’s making him a little nervous…

If We Don’t Make It

Dean/Female OC

This fic was written for @whispersandwhiskerburn Angel’s 2K Follower Celebration. My song prompt was “Broken” by Lifehouse, and the dialogue prompt was “If we don’t make it out of this, I need you to know…” No smut.

My Deliverer

Dean/Female Spirit - Her POV

Dean is hunting a vengeful spirit. But another spirit is in this place, and she is drawn to him…

Friendly Advice

Dean/Female Reader - Dean POV, Reader POV

This was written for @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog Mimi’s RomCom Fluff Challenge. The fluff got a little smudged into smutty fun… oops! Two POV’s, Dean’s thoughts are in italics and Reader’s are in regular font.

Old Times

Dean/Female OC

Sequel a few years down the road from A Hunter Walks Into a Bar. Tiara goes back to the bar for a visit, and who should show up the next night but Dean Winchester… Flashback in italics.

You Can Leave Your Hat On

Dean/Female Reader (nicknamed Taz)

Inspired by the sexy AF Cowboy!Dean we were treated to in 13x06 Tombstone. Helped along by Joe Cocker’s rendition of “You Can Leave Your Hat On.“

Wish Her the Best

Dean/Female OC - Dean’s POV

This is an angsty li'l fic inspired by Thomas Rhett’s ‘Marry Me,’ tore at my heart until I finally wrote it. No smut.

A Matter of… Time?

Dean/Female Reader

This is the crackiest piece of work I’ve ever written - for @percywinchester27 Ana’s PJO Quotes Challenge. Prompt was “Don’t you ever feel that way? Like you could do a better job if you ran the world?” - “Umm - no. Me running the world would be kind of a nightmare.”

Demon Seed

Demon!Dean/Female Reader

Demon!Dean stops in for a drink and decides he wants you. He’s very persuasive. Written for @evansrogerskitten’s Hottest Dean Challenge.

Not Wasted Now

Dean/Female Reader

When you all decide to get drunk in the aftermath of a bad hunt, lines get a little blurred. Or crossed. Or fucking erased. Fluffy, smutty, comforting, sweet and sexy Dean.

Bad Guy

Demon!Dean/Female Reader

This was written for @eyes-of-a-disney-princess Rapunzel’s Tangled Up With Supernatural Challenge. My Tangled quote was “You want me to be the bad guy? Fine, now I’m the bad guy.”

Shiny

Trucker!Dean/Female OC

Trucker!Dean AU. Breaker, breaker, got your ears on? 67 Midnight Rider, put that hammer down…

Some Kind of Hero

Dean/Female OC

Written for Tiff’s WTF Challenge. Dean’s just filling up Baby, minding his own business, when he hears an argument and gets involved. Protective Dean, no smut, left that to your imagination.

Crave

Dean/Female Reader

So, have some ‘Riz is craving some sexy Dean action with a big ol’ side of schmoopy fluff’ stuff. Because I was, and I’m sharing with you - the smut and all the sickenly sweet cuddly that I just need sometimes. If y'all are in the mood for that kind of thing.

Perchance to Dream

Dean/Female OC

Using African dream root on a case leads to an awkward situation, and Karlie can’t handle the tension between her and Dean any longer

Ruined

Dean/Female Reader

Dean comes home from a hunt, and he’s had something on his mind…

Going Home

Dean/Female Reader

Written for @crispychrissy’s Gif It To Me Challenge. Overhearing only part of a conversation sends her running, but jumping to conclusions without the whole story isn’t the best decision. No smut.

Not the Smartest Thing

Dean/Female Reader - Reader POV

Only Dean Fucking Winchester could turn taking a swig of beer into pornography. Cocky bastard. But two can play at that game.

Suzy Q

Dean/Female OC - OC POV

Written for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan’s Multi-fandom Follower Celebration Challenge. Prompt - “I think I’m having a feeling. How do I make it stop?”

Invisible Touch

Dean/Unnamed Female OC

Rowena teaches Dean something new, and he gets inspired. I have no idea where this came from, but here it is…

Maybe I’m Amazed

Dean/Unnamed Female OC

An accident leaves her unconscious and fighting for her life in the hospital, drifting in and out of awareness and memories as Dean refuses to leave her side. Written for @rockhoochie’s 1K Love Supernatural Style Writing Challenge.

Reunion

Dean/Female OC

Passing through town, Dean runs into an old high school classmate. Fluffy and smutty, no angst here!

Playing With Fire

MOC!Dean/Unnamed Female OC

Late Season 10 MOC!Dean smut fic that just wouldn’t leave me alone…

Uninvited

Michael!Dean/Dean/Unnamed Female OC

Michael gives Dean a choice, because sometimes Michael likes to watch…This one is darker than my normal, PLEASE heed the warnings.

What Happens At the Roadhouse…

Early-Season Dean/Female OC

Bailey’s just looking for a couple days post-hunt R&R at Harvelle’s - and then he shows up. Cocky bastard.

Unleashed

Post-Purgatory Dean/Female OC

She’s still struggling to cope a year after Dean disappeared in the explosion that killed Dick Roman.

The Pool House

Dean/Unnamed female OC

Inspired by a dream - one I will never forget!

The Break-In

Dean/Tara (female OC)

One night I started thinking about what it would be like using mics and earbuds and having Dean’s voice RIGHT IN YOUR EAR. And then this fic happened. Hope you enjoy!

Tired of Missing You

Dean/Journey (female OC)

This is one of those times when my story yanked the wheel out of my hands and I just went along for the ride. So if you’re in the mood for a fluffy, angsty cookie with a smutty, creamy middle - here ya go!

Compelled

Dean/Brandi (female OC)

Have you ever had a really bad day at work? I’ve never had a day quite as bad as Brandi’s - but damn, I’d love to use this method to relieve the stress…

The Devil Made Me Do It

Demon!Dean/Shea (Female OC)

Shea is in a reckless mood. Demon!Dean is happy to help her indulge that mood.

Driving Miss Baby

Dean/Reader

Dean decides you need a driving lesson in Baby.

Just a Little Story About Lou and Sam

Sam/Female OC

Lou and Sam walk into a bar… written for a friend who’s a Sammy girl

Doctor-Patient Relations

Sam/Female OC

One-shot inspired by The Born-Again Identity - sick Sammy and Dr. Nicole. Written for another Sammy-girl friend

Head vs. Heart

No title

Fourth of July

Working Saturday Isn’t So Bad

11x17 Drabble

Some Nights He Dreams

Most of the Time

The Name Game

God Bless America

Stress Relief

Dean Hurt/Comfort Drabble

@mrs-squirrel-chester ‘s Album Fanfic Writing Challenge Drabbles

Dangerous

For My Brother

In Chains

Kiss and Tell

The End of Me

Choices

Hero

Pure

In the End

#riz's master list #updated 6/12/21 #dividers by firefly-graphics

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multiple-characters1-acct · 3 years ago

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So, this is to prove to myself that I can still write a full dramatic scene given the last thing I wrote (currently not published anywhere) I had to end abruptly because I couldn’t make it as good as I wanted it to be. Well thanks to binge reading @marise-the-marionette and associated story, Puppeteer of a New Fate, a couple of times now, I suddenly have a story floating through my head.

So, I’m going to do a thing where I write the final dramatic confrontation and then go back and write everything else…

No promises on everything else…

Context!

OC (name pending, I’m stuck between Hannah and Magenta but for this I'm going with Hannah) creates an android to play video games like a human does. Why? I’m not sure yet.

Said android, I.M.B.A.V. or just Bev for short, is a marvel of software and code with… interesting… hardware.

By interesting I mean it’s a cobbled together slapdash of stuff that works because of the code making it work.

The cameras she uses to see is in really bulky headphones, her face is a screen even though the rest of her head is Round, random things have color changing lights on them to show her emotions, she has 8 different fuses in her, only one of them being redundant, and the whole thing is given a vaguely human shape and covered in black nylon.

It's the software that's the marvel, not the hardware.

Bev gets the attention of Faz Ent who are having issues with the virus, I’m calling it the Trap Virus for the moment, name may change. They hire the creator to try and make an anti-virus.

That is taken very literally and she infects the Trap Virus with her own Anti Virus to try and out virus the virus.

And It Works!

Until William himself comes out of his pod and enforces his control.

Minor notes: OC is in a wheelchair but can walk a couple of steps at a time. The Trap Virus is Glichtrap, but William is not. Bev got infected at some point but the virus has no idea what to do with the insane way her hardware is put together so she’s fighting it off. This takes place at the end of Security breach but Freddy is currently infected and under control.

I’m writing this at 11 at night so forgive spelling errors. Story under the cut.

“Freddy?”

“Hush Gregory, the adults are talking.”

If it wasn’t for Vanny holding a knife to his throat, Gregory would have ran to his fallen protector; Hannah could see it plain as day. Allas, Freddy was held captive by the virus she had spent so long trying to flush from his systems.

Much like she was held captive by his iron grip on her wheelchair.

“Why are you doing this,” she asked.

Vanny laughed, pulling out the remote she had been using to control the animatronics. “You’ll see,” she pressed the button and held it up to her mouth, “Oh master… I have them for you…”

For half a second it was quiet, before a metallic groan sounded and… Hannah had seen enough horror games and movies in her life to know a zombie when she saw one, even if it was vaguely rabbit looking.

“He always comes back you know,” Vanny giggled, slipping the remote back into her pocket, “One more kid and we will be free from Hell.”

“Vanny shut up,” the undead rabbit monstrosity growled out. It looked Hannah straight in the eye from across the room.

“You did your best, I will give you that, but a simple virus is only consumed. I am William Afton, and you can not stand before a master.”

Hannah’s mouth opened before she could think, “But I’m sitting.”

Afton reared back as if struck, “Why you..!”

The door to the room swung open with a loud creak, and Bev stumbled in. She was not in good shape.

Her facial screen was a glitchy mess, jumping between angry, a warning exclamation point, and a purple rabbit head. Her emotion lights were almost all a terrifying purple, camera lights, a deep red.

Hannah was almost afraid that the virus had overtaken the android as Bev continued to stumble towards Afton, static getting louder every step. Then Bev stopped, only a foot away from him, swaying.

Afton laughed, “Even your own has fall-”

He was interrupted by Bev’s screen cracking and turning an all encompassing orange, accompanied by a very familiar scream, The Radiance from Hollow Knight.

And she punched him.

Sure, Bev blew what was probably every fuse in her body and shut down right after, but Hannah was so freaking proud.

Honestly she was proud of everyone, Gregory for pickpocketing the remote from Vanny and herself for moving the distance to get to where he slid it.

“Code: Magenta.”

Vanny’s and Afton’s heads snapped to look at where she was sprawled on the ground, remote in hand, before grabbing their heads.

Afton shook it off in what was probably a record of five seconds, stalking over the slumped body of Bev and passed the hordes of now deactivated S.T.A.F.F bots.

“What did you do?!”

Hannah grinned up at the looming zombie rabbit. “Code: Magenta is a failsafe. I put it in everything in case it gets into a fatal logic loop, ending the program and deleting the last ten minutes of memory. It’s not that hard to reprogram it to delete itself… and the virus it’s attached to.”

Afton growled, pulling his foot up to crush, and then he got tazed in the back, by Vanny of all people. Or, rather, Vanessa since she wasn’t wearing the mask.

Then she tazed him again for good measure, adding “This is for stealing the last five years of my life you sick freak.”

Gregory ran over to the shutdown Freddy, “Freddy! Are you okay? You didn’t get deleted with the virus?”

“He’s off at the moment kid,” Hannah said, “But no, he hasn’t. Might need a little more work to clean the broken syntax, but nothing that made him, him, should have been touched.”

“That sounds like he could have been.”

Hannah just gave the distrustful Gregory a reassuring smile, “The worst he, and anyone, would lose is the robotic form of muscle memory. So you may have to teach him how to walk again, but he’s still the Freddy you know. Now could you help me back into my wheelchair and everyone back up top? Vanessa is pulling out gas cans and I assume that means things are going to be on fire in a bit.”

(And I drew this in about 10 minutes, but here's Bev:)

#fnaf #security breach #fnaf: security breach #my writing #nighttime dramatics #its dramatic and written at nighttime it goes here

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watchoutforthefanfics · 5 months ago

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achievement unlocked 🔓 (part twenty) || Streamer AU! Reddie (IT)

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: this prompt + BIRDS OF A FEATHER by Billie Eilish

TWs: cursing, talk of sex, and shameless flirting.

[[A/N: okay so like technically this is the last chapter BUT... I have an epilogue shit in mind (different events that I want to write within this universe). So, no worries!!! I didn't intend this to be the end at all, but like I was writing it and was like.... oh shit. So epilogues to come lovelies!!! Don't you worry!!! Enjoy :))]]

Richie wasn't exactly sure why it started, but it did. There could be a myriad of reasons, honestly (all of which Richie had debated thoroughly at this point), but it did start happening. Not that Richie was complaining.

It was the day after Bev started helping, and she had said she couldn't do much more (with her stream schedule), but she'd do what she could. Richie had actually posted that he'd be back on stream by next week (which was fittingly flushed with '🍝' because his fans seemed to be obsessed with Eddie just a little less than he was), so, they weren't exactly on a timer, per se, but they did kinda have a deadline. Technically.

Richie was currently pulling out some of Eddie’s personal shit. Mostly because a lot of the stuff Eddie intended to do himself, like clothes, for example, he had to color code them -so, it was essentially no use for Richie to hang them up. But things like his toothbrush, his hair products, shampoo, conditioner, and plates (shit that already had a spot essentially) were fair game. So, that's what Richie was doing.

That being said, he was sitting -rifling through a box in the living room (DVDs and games -that he never had the console for but Richie did), and Eddie was in the kitchen. Organizing the pantry. Well, he thinks anyway, Eddie was doing a lot in the kitchen, so he really could be on any task at this point.

This, this was when it started.

"Hey, Richie, honey, where do you keep the canned shit?"

He answered naturally -thoughtlessly, "In the cabinet to the right of the fridge, Eds."

He chimed a sweet little thank you, that made Richie grin a little. And nearly instantly, Richie went back to shuffling -on a mission.

It took a minute to process, and he was pulling out a movie (a Garfield cartoon that Eddie had most certainly bought for him) when it hit him.

"Honey?" He questioned, mostly to himself -laughing a little.

Slipping the DVD into the cabinet (Richie already had them alphabetized, thankfully), he stood and slowly pattered over to the kitchen.

Eddie was staring at the pantry in intense focus (bingo), brown deadset on them like if he looked away they'd unsort themself somehow. Richie loved him so much he might explode. He figured they both could use the break anyway, so he spoke.

"Did you just call me honey?" Richie asking, teasingly.

Eddie jumped, spinning to him before flushing a red that Richie knew well, "Yes, why, dickweed?"

"I should be asking you that, Spaghetti," Richie slowly made his way to Eddie's side -his big brown eyes were soft on him (betraying his pinched frown).

"I'm your boyfriend," Eddie offered, frustrated, "-Am I not fucking allowed to call you pet names?"

"You're allowed," Richie laughed, now right in front of him (long strides are really helpful sometimes), "-but you've literally never done that before."

"Well," Eddie actually fucking pouted, and Richie near immediately kissed him (like it was a fucking Pavlovian response and you know, maybe it was) -Eddie's frown quirked up for a second, "-you have all this shit for me, I wanted to... try some out."

Richie grinned big and bright, pinching his cheek, "Awe, Eds loves me-"

"Shut up," Eddie shoved at him, "-of course, I do. You're lucky I don't call you fucking 'goose egg' or some shit."

Richie snorted, "Goose egg?"

"It's better than fucking Spaghetti," Eddie pointed out.

"First off, maybe later," Richie winked (Eddie's frown set even deeper), "-but secondly, there's nuance to it, Eddie my love. It's a nickname of another nickname that I've given you. There's layers, like an onion-"

"Cool it, ogre," Eddie retorted, "-Aren't you supposed to be sorting shit?"

"Ogre?" Richie hummed -playfully acting thoughtfully, "-Now that's a thinker, Eds. Totally could be a winner."

"Shut up," Eddie repeated, shoving him (but not before kissing him solidly once), "-Go do your fucking job, Tozier. Make yourself useful."

"I can think of a few ways I can make myself useful," Richie hummed, moving his eyebrows -suggestively.

Eddie rolled his eyes, but did in fact say, "Maybe later, dickweed."

And that was the end of that. Well, technically the start of something (more than one something but you didn't hear it from Richie).

It didn't stop there. Eddie kept trying them.

'Love' when they woke up in the morning -wrapped into each other (it was cute, but Eddie definitely didn't like it when he said it), 'darling' when he didn't want to move off the couch to get the remote (Richie had straight-up burst into laughter at that one, it just wasn't right), 'babe' as he rambled about different things putting up his clothes (that one actually sounded pretty good, but it didn't quite achieve his goal of flustering Richie), 'sweetheart' when Richie had given him his homemade dinner (that one was cute, but again there was a prerogative), 'lovebug' when Richie was being a little too clingy -not that Eddie was complaining (that one just didn't sound right in his mouth), 'dear' just saying it to see if it worked (Richie pointed out his bit and Eddie had promptly dropped it), 'bae' in a similar way as babe but much more purposeful (Richie and Eddie started at each other for a moment before simultaneously bursting into laughter).

All that to say, Eddie was trying. Richie personally thought it was the cutest thing in the world. He wanted it to maybe go on forever, and maybe he thought maybe it could go on forever-

Well, until Eddie found the perfect one.

They'd done it, every box unpacked -Eddie was totally and completely moved in. Richie was fucking ecstatic, personally, (although... he would miss the way Eddie's arms flexed when he was carrying a particularly heavy box) because Eddie was officially living with him. Eddie could wake up in the morning, get his toothbrush and toothpaste, go to fucking... his closet and get his clothes. God, Richie was over the fucking moon-

That being said, they were physically letting themselves rest (at Eddie’s insistence, naturally). In a similar position to how they slept, actually, Richie as a human blanket with their legs intertwined. The only thing different, now, was that Eddie was partially sort of sat up. It made it so Richie was a touch lower than he'd usually be, and his arms circled his lower waist instead of around his ribs. It did mean, however, that Eddie could smooth one hand mindlessly up and down Richie's back and the other thread gently through his hair.

It was probably the best fucking cuddling Richie had ever been a part of. It was no wonder he was getting tired, Eddie was safe and warm and comfortable and his fingertips were gentle and soft. Richie should've been knocked out as soon as he'd laid onto Eddie's chest-

"You ready to go to bed, lover?" Eddie hummed, soft and gentle -affectionately teasing.

Richie blinked. Lover?

"Rich," Eddie continued, more persistent. At no response, he moved his hands to pull Richie's face up to match his eyes.

He must've looked some sort of cute because Eddie's face softened considerably -brown eyes shiny and soft. It made Richie's head swim that he was looking at fucking him like that.

"You tired, lover?"

Richie was not sure if it was the name (lover? what the fuck-), the tone, or maybe his eyes, but it made some splotchy red climb up his collar. Eddie's eyes hinged on it for a second, eyebrows furrowing for a second -before something settled across his face, a glint in his eyes.

Was this what it felt like with 'Eddie baby'?

"You like that one?" Eddie asked, smiling -thumbs brushing against Richie's face (he kinda wanted to lean into it), before teasing, "-Lover?"

Richie pressed his lips together.

"Or maybe," Eddie added, still smiling and moving to peck his lips once (Richie kinda felt like he was in paradise), "-loverboy?"

He blinked, red shooting up his cheeks, Eddie grinned. It made Richie's heart skip a beat, even now. But at the moment, he felt a little speechless.

Richie just shoved his head forward into the crook of Eddie's neck -drowning in strawberries. Eddie laughed and it rattled through Richie's head.

"Really?" Eddie hummed, pressing a kiss to his temple, and moving a freehand to thread through his curls again "-Those are the ones that get you?"

"I dunno," Richie breathed out against the skin of Eddie's neck, "-there's just something about the teasing of loverboy. And the fucking... sincerity of lover. Because, yeah, you do fucking love me. And that's sick as fuck-"

Eddie laughed again, before humming -softly, "You do still get pretty fucking affected when I say 'I love you'."

As if on cue, his skin burned brighter, "Well, yeah, because you fucking... love me."

Eddie giggled, and tugged his face up again -brown matching his own, "You're so fucking cute when you're tired, loverboy."

Richie frowned, cheeks pink, "This is not fair, I'm tired and vulnerable and you're so pretty it makes my brain hurt-"

Eddie pulled him forward and kissed him, effectively shutting him up. Slow and sweet, fingers sliding back to push curls behind his ears and palms on his cheeks to keep him there. Richie felt like he might physically faint, being treated so preciously. He always felt that shit when Eddie was like this, all soft and sweet and genuine. The times where he just genuinely showed Richie he loved him, without the poking and the prodding.

Don't get him wrong, he lives for the poking and the prodding, but these moments? They are right fucking there with them. Richie wanted them to feel this way forever, to never lose the warmth twisted around his heart, the bursting love in his chest any time he looked at him.

God. He was so fucked.

Richie woke up to two things that next morning, the thrum of Eddie's heartbeat under his chest, and the buzz of his phone vibrating against the nightstand.

He blinked, leaning up slightly. With a breath, he moved to press a kiss to the hinge of Eddie's jaw -soft and sweet, and pulled himself off of Eddie. It took a few seconds, but he did it eventually, slipping on his glasses.

'Staniel 🐦😤😠 is calling'

Richie furrowed his eyebrows, eyeing the time: 9:37. What the fuck-

Before he could think anything of it, Eddie stirred a little, and Richie felt the need (instinctive) to soothe him.

"Just a sec, Eddie baby," he hummed, leaning over and kissing his forehead.

Eddie shifted, rubbing at his eyes, "Where are you going?"

"Stanny's calling," Richie hummed, voice scratchy, "-if I don't answer, he'll kick my fucking ass."

"Stanley?" Eddie sat up, and Richie frowned.

"Eds, you can go back to sleep," he motioned dismissively, "-I'll figure out what he needs, and-"

"No, I don't want to," Eddie echoed out, yawning -stretching slightly (Richie's eyes unwillingly hitched on the skin of Eddie's stomach for a moment), "-it fucking sucks without you, and I want to talk to Stanley and Patty-"

Richie blinked.

"-Now c'mon, asshole," he pat the bed, "-answer the fucking phone."

Richie did as told -scooting in close to Eddie and throwing an arm around his shoulders (Eddie snuggled into him, naturally).

"Stan?" Richie called out, putting him on speaker.

"Richie, I've called you like three fucking times," Stanley spoke up through the phone.

"It's 9:37 am here, Stanley," Richie argued, yawning within the sentence, "-I just woke up to your call. Well, we just woke up to your call, actually-"

"Oh my god, Eddie!" Patty piped up, and Richie could physically hear the grin on her face, "-Hi, sweetheart. How's California?"

Eddie laughed, maybe a little nervous (Richie squeezed him closer to his side), "It's still fucking polluted, but-"

Patty laughed, and Eddie's eyes hung on Richie for a second -Richie wanted to bathe in it like it was fucking sunlight.

"-it's a lot fucking better. I'm happy as shit."

Richie grinned, turning to kiss his cheek (Eddie swatted at him but didn't push him too far away). So fucking cute.

"I'm really glad," Stanley added, softly. It was unusual but not unfamiliar.

Something flickered along Eddie's face, taken aback a little, Richie could tell.

"Alright, Stanthony," Richie hummed, "-to what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Actually," Stanley hummed, "-I wanted to talk to Eddie."

Richie blinked, and eyed Eddie for a second -his eyes widened in response (maybe nervous, Richie itched to soothe).

He squeezed Eddie again, fingertips dragging along his arm -in a comforting motion.

"You gonna put him through the wringer again, Stanthony? Really?" Richie laughed.

"No," Stanley answered flatly, "-You guys are stupid in love with each other, I could see that from like 1000s of miles away. It's disgusting."

Richie rolled his eyes, teasing, "Sometimes I worry for Patty."

Patty snickered over the phone.

"Very funny, Richie," Stanley continued, unphased, "-Look, I want to talk about my wedding."

Shit, right, it was maybe two months away. He and Eddie had talked about it a little bit, and Eddie wasn't sure if Stanley would want him there. Richie disagreed, strongly, and told him that every time they talked about it. Because it was just so fucking obvious to him. Stanley, at the least, loved Richie and Richie loved Eddie. So, by proxy, he was going to the wedding.

"Yeah?" Eddie asked, curiously.

"Well, I have a big ass wedding party, already but-"

Eddie's eyes grew wide, and Richie watched him for a second with a baited breath.

"-you're a Loser now. Not even just because of Richie. You're one of us. So, I wanted to ask if you'd be one of my groomsmen?"

Eddie blinked, his mouth screwing up into something Richie recognized -something a little teary. Richie kissed his cheek again, and Eddie leaned closer to him this time.

"What the fuck," Eddie laughed, a little teary, "-Yeah, of course, Stanley. What the fuck-"

Richie laughed, rubbing his hand up and down his back. Eddie was grinning, smooth against his side, and Richie thought that's where he was meant to be. That they fit perfectly together, that it was always supposed to be this way in the end-

Patty hummed, soft and sweet, "It just wasn't right without you in our wedding, Eddie."

"Shit," he sniffled, and Richie wiped at his tears with his freehand -before his breath started to pick up, "-thank you. Are you... Do you have a suit for me? Or should I fucking get on that? What are your wedding colors-"

"Eddie baby, relax," Richie interrupted -trying to catch his eye (keyed in on the Eddie-ism), "-let 'em speak, yeah? Don't worry about hypothetical shit."

Eddie took a breath, brown eyes focused on Richie. He watched him for a second, making sure his breaths slowed and the tension slid out of his body-

"You guys are disgusting," Stanley interrupted, promptly, and it made Richie snort out a laugh.

"Shut up," Eddie huffed out, and moved to wrap his arms around Richie’s middle.

Richie laughed even harder.

"To answer your question," Patty spoke, sternly, maybe to the both of them, "-just send us your suit size, honey. We'll get it. We still have time. No need to worry."

"Okay," Eddie paused, "-if you guys need anything else, let me know. I'm great at planning-"

"I bet," Stanley snickered, Richie physically heard the smack on his chest (love ya, Patts), "-honestly, just wish you were here before we paid for a wedding planner."

Eddie laughed then too.

"That's why we called," Patty confirmed, "-but if I don't get to talk to Eddie for a while, I will fly out and kick your ass, Richie."

"What the fuck, why me?"

"Please," Stanley leveled, "-she'd never kick Eddie's ass. He's her favorite."

"What?" Richie let out a faux gasp, dramatically leaning back against the headboard, "-My dearest Patricia, I swore we had something special-"

"Don't worry, Richie," Patty hummed over the phone, "-I think you're a package deal. I just don't have the years of Eddie that I do with you."

Richie pouted, as if she could see him, and Eddie laughed at it and even just the noise made the act falter.

"Yeah, whatever," Richie huffed out -playfully.

Eddie was on the phone (he’d switched to his own) for about an hour and a half, he'd turned it off of speaker (for whatever reason), and because Richie was a clingy motherfucker, he stayed close to him. Like didn't move a single limb, fingers brushing through his hair or trailing along his skin. It was a little like he was memorizing him, understanding that he was right fucking there. Eddie, right there with him, his boyfriend.

It was easy to forget sometimes that Eddie was here with him, that he'd found Eddie at all. Because he'd gotten used to life without him, without someone, but now... fuck, he can't even remember what it was like before Eddie. And he doesn't fucking want to. Ever. He'd do everything in his power to keep him. Everything-

Wait.

Richie paused, switching on his phone as Eddie mindlessly talked to Patty -he dove into one conversation in particular.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

best way to make a date about seeing the golden gate bridge

Richie paused for a moment, drumming his fingers along Eddie's skin -right under his shirt sleeve. Even now, it still made his head spin to get to fucking touch him.

reddy.bevvy ✔️

this your idea or his ?

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

his

he wants to see the bridge but like we should do some other shit

shouldn't we?

reddy.bevvy ✔️

you know you don't have to do huge fucking gestures right?

eddie will probably love it either way

Richie smiled, and pressed a kiss into Eddie’s temple, Eddie nuzzled further into him in response. Jesus fuck, Richie loved the shit out of him-

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

yeah I know

it's just like some of his first dates ever

I want to do right by him

he deserves the fucking best

reddy.bevvy ✔️

you know it might just be 'the best' to him if it's with you right?

Richie paused, pressing his lips together, eyes darting to Eddie who was sunken into his side. Completely wrapped up in him, playing with one of Richie's hands as he mindlessly spoke to Patty. Casual affection (because he loves me). Something in Richie wanted to cry, and the other part wanted to kiss Eddie until he couldn't breathe.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

yeah I know

I just want it to be perfect

I love him so much bev

reddy.bevvy ✔️

I know, Rich

let me look around for you

we're gonna make this shit amazing

Richie laughed, softly, moving his head to come through Eddie’s hair. His Eddie. My Eddie. Jesus.

Bev eventually got back to him, with a slew of answers. The best places to see the Golden Gate Bridge, the best places physically by it. Restaurants and cafés and stores, she'd had it all covered. And then finished it with:

reddy.bevvy ✔️

enjoy yourself rich xoxo

So, that brought him to now, watching Eddie get ready. It was the cutest thing in the world.

He pulled out a shirt on the hanger, eyed it, and then another, and physically moved them back and forth. Richie had the spare thought that any other person would probably rush him, but he just wanted to pull up a fucking chair, lean his head on his hands with big-ass heart eyes. Partially because Eddie was LIVING here, and partially because he loved him so much he might explode-

"What do you think?" Eddie suddenly turned to him, holding out a short-sleeved baby blue button-up with a white tanktop underneath it and a simple brown polo.

Richie hummed, curiously, "Isn't red your favorite color, Eds?"

"Well," Eddie pursed up his lips, "-yeah, but-"

"Would wearing red make you happy?" Richie interrupted, tilting his head.

Eddie pulled the two shirts back to himself, gnawing at his lips, "I... I guess so."

"Then wear red, Eddie baby," Richie offered.

"I don't even think I fucking have red," Eddie pointed out, sliding his shirts back into their spots.

"Well, lucky for you, my dearest Spaghetti," Richie hummed, tugging him by the wrist to his own closet, "-You are dating a man made up of literal fucking color vomit-"

"Ew," Eddie scrunched up his nose, Richie leaned forward and kissed it (Eddie's frown quirked up for a split second).

Opening his closet, he motioned toward the assortment as if he were unveiling a new exhibit at a museum, arms open and wide.

"Take your pick, Eddie my love."

Eddie laughed only a little, before stepping past him into his closet.

On the surface, it was overwhelming, Richie could acknowledge that. Even after Eddie sorted it by color (because he wanted to, and Richie would give him the world if he could). But he could definitely say he has every color in his wardrobe, which is fun. Good, probably.

Red is actually more in Richie's wardrobe than expected. Mostly because there we a lot of strange button ups in red, but also because Bev had told him he looked good in fucking... 'maroon'. So, she'd typically get him something on the red spectrum.

Eddie fingered through the fabric, thoughtfully. Richie watched him again. If there was a career in watching Eddie Kaspbrak, he'd probably be the fucking CEO. He'd be the best of the best because he could just watch him. Which was weird as fuck, because normal Richie couldn't even wait for a loading screen in a game without chattering about fucking any and everything (great for streaming, but still). But with Eddie... he could just watch. And he could listen. Richie was usually fucking talking his ass off but when Eddie was talking, god all Richie wanted to fucking do was listen. Even about the most mundane shit in the world, Richie would never be bored. He could watch his mouth curve around the words, the way his eyes glinted differently depending on how he was feeling, the way his nose scrunched up when he was disgusted. Eddie was the most expressive person in the fucking world, and Richie wanted to know all of his expressions so bad it ached.

Fuck, he was so fucked.

Eddie pulled out a simple t-shirt with the champion logo in blue on the front, toward the right side. He showed it to Richie.

"Is this too fucking simple?" Eddie pursed his lips, "-This is like our first official date, and I know you fucking put effort into it, and I'm just gonna wear a fucking sports t-shirt? That feels so shitty-"

"I really fucking love you," Richie interrupted, smiling -affection bubbling up his throat (I wanna keep him forever).

Eddie's lips snapped shut, and a red bloomed onto his cheeks (like it was the first time Richie had ever said it, which it decidedly was not). His big brown eyes flicked between quite a few different things, some that Richie could name and others he'd learn to.

Finally, he spoke, soft, "I love you too, Richie."

"That one's nice," Richie hummed, leaning forward and pinching the fabric between his fingers, "-I think it'll be fucking great for today."

"But-"

"It's gonna be hot, Eddie baby," Richie moved forward, smoothing his hands down his arms, "-and you really don't have to fucking try hard for me. Just be comfortable and happy. I'll still makeout with you later, your shirt won't-"

Eddie shoved at him, "Shut up."

Even still, he pulled it off the hanger without hesitating. After quickly changing his shirt (and Richie maybe being a little distracted by the shown skin), they were on the streets of San Francisco.

Richie had suggested they walk, and Eddie had promptly pulled out some sunscreen. Richie wasn't going to complain, Eddie's hands all over him? Yes, please-

"Where are we going?" Eddie interrupted the thought process, thankfully.

Richie grinned, and poked his nose, "Wouldn't you like to know, weatherboy?"

Eddie scrunched of his nose, "A vine, really?"

"Uh, yeah, really," Richie enunciated, swinging his arm over Eddie's shoulder and tugging him close (Eddie didn't even hesitate with the motion, tucked against his side), "-that shit shaped a whole generations humor, it should be in fucking textbooks-"

Eddie interrupted him, pouting, "Are you seriously not going to tell me where we're going?"

Richie laughed at the expression, pulling him close and kissing his temple, "Don't worry Eds, you'll figure it out."

Eddie rolled his eyes, but stayed tight to Richie's side, hand moving up to grab his that was hanging off his shoulder -effectively pulling them closer. Richie felt like he'd never loved someone more in his life.

"Hey, Eddie my love?"

Eddie hummed, in response, eyes wandering along all the buildings.

"What are you willing to eat from a food truck?" Richie asked curiously, eyeing the upcoming section of food, "-If the answer is nothing, that's fine, but we could probably fond somewhere eat-in-"

"You'd-" Eddie started, "-You'd do that? Find somewhere else?"

Richie paused in his step, moving his arm to face Eddie fully -big brown eyes on his own.

"Eddie baby," he started, leveled but still somehow through laughs, "-I am balls deep in love with you-"

Eddie scrunched up his nose and shoved him, "You're fucking disgusting."

"-picking a different restaurant doesn't mean shit to me. As long as you're happy and comfortable, I'll find shit I like."

Eddie eyed him, flickering over his face -hinging on his facial features, like he was trying to memorize them. Richie did it a lot when Eddie was still asleep (if he woke up before him), and he could tilt his head up and count the freckles across his nose (which the sun, in fact, brought out more). It was 13, 6 on one side and 7 on the other (Eddie would despise it), if you were wondering-

"I think you might be the love of my life."

Richie blinked.

"Like forever kinda shit," Eddie added less eloquently, "-Like I don't think I ever get past you. I think... I think this is it. I think you're it."

Richie blinked again, mind running 100 miles per hour.

"I just, um-" Eddie continued, nervously, "-You should know that. And I know we've only really been dating a few months, but I just... It makes sense. You, Richie, you make sense. You've... always made sense."

Richie heart felt like it might literally explode. And he had half an idea that Eddie might fucking pull out a ring, but he knew better than that. Eddie, if he was proposing, he'd be stressing over the words, trying to recite them. Be perfect. And Richie would force him to break it, to be imperfect-

Fuck, if he asked, he'd say yes. What the fuck does that mean-

"Jesus, Eds," Richie laughed a little teary, "-Where the fuck did that come from? What the fuck-"

Eddie shrugged, completely certain in his words -not a shred of him embarrassed, as he moved his hands to cup Richie's face naturally (thumbs brushing away any tears), "I just really fucking love you."

"God," Richie laughed, teary, "-I love you too, you little shit. What the fuck? You can't just say that shit out on the street, while I'm trying to fucking figure out if you'd eat from a shitty taco truck-"

Eddie giggled, still cradling his face.

"-I'm not fucking ready for that. I might need days in preparation, honestly. Fuck, man."

Richie tried to wipe at his own eyes, laughing lightly, "It goes without saying, Eds, I think you're it for me too. Just fyi."

Eddie grinned brighter, a teasing twinkle in his eye, "Yeah, I kinda figured."

"Oh, fuck you, Kaspbrak," Richie laughed harder, pulling himself out of his grip, "-You're such a little asshole. The fucking whiplash I get from dating you, you should start paying my medical bills-"

"Shut up," Eddie chased him back, moving to cradle his face and kiss him. A soft and sweet one, the kind that Richie wanted to curl up under and absorb like a cat in the sunlight. He could fucking kiss Eddie forever. He'd suffocate, yeah, but what a way to go-

Richie pulled back, but held their foreheads together, grinning. God, he was so happy. So, so happy. Eddie grinned right back at him (like maybe he was so, so happy too).

"God," Richie let him go, intertwining their hands, "-fucking Eddie Kaspbrak-"

Eddie laughed, following Richie's guide as he navigated to a little sandwich shop that Bev had pointed out. They were still a little ways to being at The Golden Gate Bridge, but it was definitely pretty big on their horizon. They ended up getting sandwiches, both relatively light, nothing too heavy for the evening (Eddie wanted them to eat an actual meal later like you were 'fucking supposed to'). Richie would do literally anything he asked.

"Favorite season?" Richie asked, sandwich in one hand, and Eddie's hand in the other. They were tossing through 20 questions again, it was just nice -getting to know each other more (Richie wanted to know everything about Eddie so badly it burned).

Eddie hummed, chewing a bite (no way in hell he was talking with food in his mouth) and swallowing, "Maybe fall."

"Why?" Richie asked, following.

"Not as much to worry about," Eddie leveled, "-no fucking allergies as bad as spring's, no severe chance of hypothermia like in winter, and no stupid fucking sunburn and heat stroke chance like summer."

Richie hummed, thoughtfully.

"You?" Eddie's eyes flickered to Richie.

"Summer," Richie answered, "-obviously."

"Obviously?" Eddie raised an eyebrow.

"Eddie, my love," Richie laughed, "-look at me. I'm just... It's summer. I can't explain it. Although, I fucking love Halloween-"

"Now, that is fucking obvious-"

Eddie faltered off, then, as Richie guided him to the bridge, stopping as his steps did. The sun was just beginning to set, and Richie literally thanked god that it had lined up that perfectly-

"The bridge," Eddie spoke, a little lost.

"Yup," Richie popped the 'p', disconnecting their hands to throw an arm around his shoulders, "-per your request."

Eddie paused, eyes stuck on the setting of the sun, "I don't think this would be as cool without the sunset."

Richie snorted, "Which is why I am converting to Christianity in a few hours and thanking Jesus personally-"

"Shut up," Eddie elbowed him, and Richie jumped slightly, "-you're ruining it, dickwad."

"Yeah, yeah," Richie rolled his eyes, but still stopped talking.

His eyes hung on the setting sun and the bridge. It was kinda beautiful. Okay, no kinda, it was beautiful, the shine of the metal, the slightly cloudy skyline, the oranges. It was all beautiful. Very beautiful. Richie hadn't felt that way about San Francisco in awhile, but Eddie... Eddie brought it out of him-

Eddie leaned onto his shoulder, interrupting his thought process. And a fondness that only Eddie had ever achieved swam over Richie's skin.

He peeked at Eddie out of the corner of his eye.

And fuck, he was beautiful. Forget the fucking bridge-

His eyes were glittering in the golden hour way (Richie was looking at it in person now), and the setting orange highlighted the features of his face -the tip of his nose, his jawline, the individual curls (waves kinda) of his hair, even his fucking eyelashes. And he was so close that Richie could individually count his freckles, while his whole face was washed in a glow. An evening glow. He wanted to commit this to memory, this fucking vision of Eddie. And this whole day. These fucking feelings, ever since he'd gotten Eddie, he wanted to memorize how he felt every stage of the way. Remember it until he was old and fucking grey.

Richie let the thought settle in his head for a second.

In a year, he could buy a ring. Perfect for Eddie, maybe engraved with something unbelievably stupid. Gold maybe because of this moment now, because of the way he fucking simmered in the sun. Golden. And then finding the perfect time, the perfect moment, and maybe fucking it up. Maybe tripping up on his words, or crying too much to speak, or dropping the fucking box. But he'd still ask. And maybe...

Maybe Eddie would say yes.

Richie quietly leaned his head on top of Eddie's, and held him as close as physically possible -warmth against his entire side. He reveled in the fact that Eddie didn't even flinch at it, just nuzzled closer. Like he fit. Like he was always meant to be there.

And you know what? Richie thinks he was.

Yeah, okay, his mind hummed, one day. We can do it one day.

#reddie #watchoutwriting #reddie fanfiction #reddie fic #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it chapter 2 #it chapter one #reddie fluff #the losers club #streamer au #achievement unlocked 🔓

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