#that line will not leave my brain alone and eddie's reaction to me shows how off colour it was for Buck to say that at all about Chris

[mintedwitcher]

Okay so like. Not to read too deep or anything but Buck's "sexual tension" line is tapping at my brain and it Demands attention so. Here's what I'm thinking.

Not many people would look at a child's crush and call it sexual tension. Especially when that person has been actively involved in the life and raising of that particular child. We all saw Eddie's face during Buck's line, that "WTF" expression he had. Because as Chris's dad, the idea of Chris becoming sexual is a parental nightmare, not a witty joke.

So then why did Buck say it? Well. Hear me out.

Buck has never had a crush. A genuine, romantic, childlike crush. He's had relationships, he's felt romantic inclination towards the women he's dated while dating them, but there's nothing in his behaviour throughout the show to indicate that he's ever had a plain and simple crush on somebody.

Buck has, however, experienced instant sexual attraction, and so I think he's extrapolating from that experience to try and connect with Eddie about this new parenting hurdle.

Perhaps he doesn't know the difference between feeling sexual attraction for somebody and having a crush on them. In season one he labelled himself a sex-addict, but it was very obviously an emotional crutch for someone who was unstable and insecure in his life and in himself. The one thing he could guarantee was that he was an easy lay. "One drink, two compliments later..." etc.

Buck is experienced with sexual attraction and sexual tension. What he has No experience with are crushes. So of course he'll pull from his own experience here to talk about Chris, and wound up with the most awkward line possible.

Personally, I would've loved to see that conversation extended and continued past that point.

[bedlamsbard]

Some new concept writing! There’s backstory for this one, but I’m not sure how much will get written because it’s relatively different from most of my extant concept writing and/or canon.  The short version is that the Clone Wars ended, but not with Order 66; the Purge and fall of the Republic happened about 8-10 years later than in canon.  (Caleb and Hera would have been in their light teens/early 20s at the time, so about the same time as AND in canon.)  My worldbuilding brain is clicking over the differences and repercussions, but, uh, we’ll see if there’s more. (If I went forward, there would be some characters I haven’t written in five or six years turning up.)

About 3K below the break.  Please note that I don’t warn.

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Parasites, Hera Syndulla thought, but kept her face pleasantly bland.  The description was unfair to only a small handful of her fellow senators, but as far as she was concerned was more than accurate in regards to the remainder. She sipped her wine and tilted her head a little to make it look like she was listening to Senator An’s description of the opera he had attended two nights previous, wondering if it was too early in the evening for her to go back to her apartment and scream into a pillow.

The occasion was a gathering to welcome freshman senators who might be inclined to the opposition party, which meant that a number of loyalist senators were here just to find out which of the freshmen were actually considering it.  In Hera’s experience the opposition mostly just made noise before agreeing to whatever legislation the Emperor wanted to pass, but the numbers mattered and a show of disapproval was better than nothing.  She wasn’t a freshman anymore, but her absence at the party would have been noticed by both sides; Ryloth didn’t hold much political sway but it was well-known.

A break in Senator An’s storytelling let her step away, gesturing vaguely at her now-empty wineglass as an excuse.  There were serving droids roaming the room so she was able to deposit it with one of them; she was trying to decide whether to stay longer or leave when she noticed an eddy in the crowd, people stepping aside and trying not to seem like they were doing so.  Riyo Chuchi was suddenly at her side, the older woman’s face drawn.

“What is it?” Hera asked her, low-voiced.

“The Emperor’s Inquisitor is making his rounds,” Riyo said, equally soft. She snagged two glasses from a passing serving droids and handed one to Hera.

She took it, tasted it, and then looked sharply at Riyo. “His?”

For the past two years, as long as Hera had been serving in the Senate, the Inquisitor assigned to Coruscant had been a woman, a huge Dowutin who delighted in terrifying the senators of both parties, as well as anyone else she came in contact with.

“I saw him in the other room,” Riyo said; the party spilled through half a dozen rented rooms and onto the balconies of each.  “He’s human, young.  I think I’ve seen him before, but I can’t think where.”

Hera raised her gaze as the movement in the room reached them.  She felt Riyo draw back, but Hera stood frozen, her heart in her throat.

The Inquisitor was a tall human male, amber-skinned and dark-haired, with a fading bruise visible on his face.  Despite that, and the scars that cut across his cheek, he was handsome; if he hadn’t been an Inquisitor Hera knew a dozen senators, female and otherwise, who would have been throwing themselves at him.  His pale gaze moved across the crowd without seeming to see anyone in it, as if he did so only to make sure they knew he was there.  If he saw Hera, he didn’t show it, just kept walking with steadied patience toward the balcony.

Hera put the glass back into Riyo’s hand and followed him before the Pantoran had a chance to protest her departure.

By the time she had reached the balcony, most of its occupants had fled back inside, though there were a dozen senators and their aides still standing by the refreshment cart there, trying not to watch the Inquisitor.  He had retreated to the far end of the balcony and was standing with his gaze fixed on the cityscape beyond.

He must have sensed her approach, but he didn’t show any sign of acknowledgment until she stepped up beside him and said quietly, “Caleb?”

He turned towards her, his eyes widening.

He had, Hera knew immediately, been very badly hurt.  There was something mad in his gaze, something more like a wounded animal than a sentient being; the scars that cut across his face had the look of something done deliberately rather than being incidental to combat injuries.  For an instant his mouth worked silently, then he looked over her shoulder at the other guests still on the balcony.  Hera turned in time to see all of them flee back into the room, leaving the two of them alone.

Hera had intended to be more circumspect about it, but since now everyone inside knew they were out here alone together she reached out and put her hand over his.  He looked at it as if he had never seen anything like it before, but didn’t pull away.

“What are you doing here?”

His voice was rougher than it had been five years ago, something that sounded like an injury rather than a reaction to her presence.

“I’m the senator for Ryloth,” Hera told him.  She wanted to take him into her arms, but didn’t dare, not when they were somewhere as public as this, not even with everyone else inside.  Instead, she squeezed his fingers and asked, “Can you come home with me?  I’ve got an apartment twenty stories down in the connecting building.”

He nodded.  She could feel him starting to shake, the shock from her unexpected appearance beginning to set in. “You go first,” he said, low-voiced. “I’ll follow.”

Hera nodded, hesitating briefly before she released his hand.  She wanted to kiss him, but couldn’t, not here, and not when she didn’t know how he would react to that.  She licked her lips and told him her apartment number, then stepped away and went inside without looking back at him.

People stepped away from her as she came in, as though she had been contaminated by her interaction with the Inquisitor.  Only Bail Organa and Riyo Chuchi came up to her, with Mon Mothma following them.

“Are you all right?” Bail asked her immediately. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Hera assured them. “I know him.”

“How?” Mon Mothma asked, startled.

Hera hesitated, then said, “I need to talk to him first, somewhere that isn’t here.  Alone,” she added, seeing Bail open his mouth. “He won’t hurt me.”

From their expressions, she suspected that they guessed “I know him” meant “I had an affair with him before the Republic fell and everything went to blazes in a handbasket,” but none of them said anything along those lines, for which Hera was profoundly grateful. Instead, she said, “I have to go.”

None of them tried to stop her.  Bail said, “Be careful,” and Riyo squeezed her arm, her expression worried.

Hera smiled at them, then started to make her way out of the suite of rooms.  As crowded as they were, it took her some time until she could get her cloak and leave; most of the guests hadn’t heard about her tête-à-tête with the Inquisitor and get out of her way as a result, the way people had done with anyone who encountered the previous Inquisitor assigned to Coruscant.  By the time she had finally managed to leave, Hera was out of breath and irritated, and the effects of the wine she had been drinking earlier had worn off.  The walk back to her own junior senator’s apartments gave her time to calm down and think over what Caleb Dume’s appearance might mean.

He had been a Jedi. He had been a Jedi, and he had believed in it so profoundly that it had sometimes made Hera feel a little ashamed of herself.  Not for sleeping with him, which she knew his master had been aware of and somewhat amused by, but because she had never believed in anything that much in her life. She couldn’t believe that he had fallen in with the Emperor after the near-genocide of the Jedi, not willingly.

The look in his eyes hadn’t been entirely sane.

Hera went into the kitchen to start water boiling for tea, then into her bedroom to change out of her evening gown for something more comfortable.  She was just pouring hot water into the teapot when her door chime sounded.

She set the pot down on the kitchen table and went to get the door.  Caleb didn’t say anything as he came in, just waited for her to shut and lock the door behind him.  Hera opened her mouth, but he put a hand up to stop her, then went prowling nervously through the apartment.  Hera guessed that he was looking for listening devices and went back to the kitchen to finish making tea.

He came in a few minutes later.  Hera went over to him, hesitated, then took him in her arms.  For an instant he was stiff, then he returned her embrace.  He was shaking badly, his skin fever-hot when Hera reached up touch his scarred face.  He flinched when her fingers accidentally brushed the bruise around his left eye, but didn’t pull away.

“Can I kiss you?” Hera asked him.

Caleb nodded, bending his head to hers.  Hera kissed him slowly and carefully; he kissed her back with desperation.  When they stopped, breathing hard, he tipped his forehead against hers, his eyes closed.

“Tell me,” Hera whispered.

“He killed her,” Caleb said, his voice so soft that the words were almost a thought rather than spoken. “He killed Depa.  Then he – he – he’d bargained with the Emperor for me.  He killed her, and he – he –”  He was shaking again, so badly that his teeth were rattling together. “It took a long time, what he did to me,” he said eventually.  “Then he had me, and so did the Inquisition.”

“Come and sit down,” Hera said.  She got him into a chair and a cup of tea into his hand, then pulled another chair over so that she could sit next to him, close enough to touch.

He drank his tea slowly, his eyes narrowed in concentration as if it was the only thing he was capable of focusing on.  This close to him, Hera could see the scars barely hidden under the high collar of his black tunic, the same kinds of scars she had seen on freed slaves – left behind by a metal collar worn for too long.

Hera remembered the day the Purge had started.  It was burned into her memory, coming down to join her family at dinner and finding them all watching the HoloNews coverage of the Jedi Temple burning.  It had been barely a month after Depa Billaba and Caleb Dume had left, after Caleb had kissed her goodbye and promised that he would return after he had his knighthood, which he expected to attain within the year.  She had stood there, sick to her stomach, and known that he was dead.  He had been in her bed recently enough that she still had blankets that smelled like him and he was dead.

Except he hadn’t been dead.

“Who is he?” she asked him once he had finished the tea.  Hera poured more, but he just played with the cut-glass cup, running his gloved fingers over the silver holder. “The person who hurt you?”

“My master.”  His voice was utterly without inflection, but Hera could guess he wasn’t talking about Depa Billaba.  He pushed the cup away as his hands started to shake. “He’s – he was a Jedi, a Temple Guard.  He’d wanted me for a padawan years ago, but I didn’t know, and Master Billaba didn’t – but he was angry about it.  When the Emperor – he bargained with him for me.  We were still at the Temple.  He killed Depa, and he – he hurt me.”  He looked down at his hands as if he had never seen them before.  “I heard them killing the others,” he added eventually. “He and the others who betrayed the Order.  The other Inquisitors.”

“They’re Jedi?” Hera said, stunned. “They’re all Jedi?”

He nodded.  “After he did – what he did – it was a – a stopgap, almost, you could call it – he left me in that room with Master Billaba while he went to the rest of the…of the killing.  And when the others were all dead, he came back and did it again, to make sure it had taken, before he took me to the Inquisition headquarters on Mustafar to finish it.  The Emperor had been planning this for a long time,” he added, his voice very soft.

Hera swallowed back nausea. She didn’t think Caleb meant by that what anyone else would have meant, but she wasn’t entirely certain that he didn’t, either.  She was trying to decide how to ask when he said, very quietly, “There’s a way to force a master-apprentice bond, if the apprentice’s first master is dead.  The Jedi won’t do it unless there’s no other choice because it’s so dangerous; it’s better to let the bond develop naturally, even if it’s weak.  But – he –”

“It sounds like psychic rape,” Hera said hesitantly when he didn’t go on.  She couldn’t shake the mental image of Caleb locked in some room with Master Billaba’s body, probably injured himself, as the rest of the Jedi fought and died outside the door.

He nodded without looking at her.

“Is he here?”

Caleb shook his head. “Five years is long enough that he can let me out of his sight without worrying that I’m going to run away.  Or fall on my lightsaber,” he added, his voice a little distant.  He licked his lips, a nervous gesture, then raised his gaze to her. “I’m glad to see you.”

Hera leaned forward, slowly enough that he could pull away if he needed to, and kissed him gently. He put one hand up to curve the backs of his knuckles against her face, kissing her back. “You can stay with me as long as you’re here, if you like,” she said. “I have a spare room.”

He nodded a little, kissed her again, and then sat back in his chair.  After a moment of silence, he admitted, “That might not be a good idea. If anyone finds out, it won’t be safe for you –”

“Will anyone in the Empire challenge an Inquisitor if he wants to keep a mistress?” Hera asked. When he blinked, she said, “I don’t mean – you don’t have to sleep with me.  But it’s what people in the Senate and the HoloNews will think.”

“My master would,” Caleb said quietly. “And he’s the only one I can’t beat in a fight, if it comes to it.”

“I have friends too,” Hera told him. “I know the Senate is pretty useless in the Empire, but it isn’t without meaning, even now.”  She hesitated, on the verge of telling him that there were other Jedi who had survived, people who might be able to help him, but finally held back.  Even if he had been forced into it, he was still an Inquisitor, and Hera didn’t know him well enough anymore to be able to gamble anyone else’s life on what would he would do.

“What happened to your face?” she asked instead.

He touched a finger to his scarred cheek. “I tried to run away and my master caught me.  I’ve got others.”

“I meant the bruise,” Hera said, feeling a little sick.

“Oh.  I was in a fight.”  He hesitated, then reached out to take one of her hands, running his thumb over her knuckles. “How long have you been a senator?”

“Two years,” Hera said. “I ran against Orn Free Taa in the last election.”

“You’re smarter,” he said. “And prettier.”

“Right on both counts,” Hera said. “And I don’t take bribes.  And my father’s a war hero.  That helped.” She winced a little, but Cham Syndulla’s record was still better than Orn Free Taa’s, especially since Palpatine had removed his backing from the previous senator.  She suspected that the Emperor thought that a pretty young female senator, especially a nonhuman one, would be more or less harmless; Orn Free Taa’s decades in the Senate had given him allies in both main parties and most of the smaller ones, even if he himself was mostly ineffectual.  Hera had connections, but not the kind that would make her a serious threat, inasmuch as any single senator could be these days.  “How long are you here for?”

He shrugged. “Until I get reassigned.  They wanted someone as different as possible from the Hammer – the Inquisitor assigned here before me – as they could get, and I guess that was me.”

“Did you want to be assigned here?” Hera asked cautiously.  She wanted to ask how he felt about the Inquisition, if he was a true believer – from what he had said she suspected not – but couldn’t come out and ask it, not yet.

Caleb shrugged again. “I didn’t have a choice.  But my master’s not here, and that’s always a relief.”  He smiled shyly at her. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She leaned forward and kissed him again.  He had relaxed as they talked, and he kissed her back with less desperation now than he had before.

“Do you want to go to bed with me?” she asked him.

Caleb raised his eyes to hers. “Yes,” he said. “If you want to.”

Hera smiled and kissed him again, then got to her feet, drawing him with her.  She could have and probably should have waited until she knew how firmly he believed in the Inquisition and the Empire, if he had, as the Jedi she knew put it, gone over to the dark side, but he was here now, and she had been so certain he was dead.  For all the brevity of their affair, she had loved him very much, and she had known he had loved her – enough to know that even though they had never talked about it, the idea of leaving the Jedi Order had crossed his mind.

“Come on,” she told him. “If everyone’s going to think we’re having an affair anyway, we might as well have one.”

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 9: On-screen Lover

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Be My Only)

…in which Harry struggles with acting for the first time in his life.

Warning: smut.

Word count: 6.1k

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Chapter 8: Sweet 25 - Y/N feels alone at Harry’s birthday party.

Wattpad link

A/N: The song mentioned in the chapter is Don't Keep Driving by The Paper Kites. This chapter is also inspired by The Archer by Taylor Swift (this is where all the anxiety comes from).

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Squirming in the soft, warm sheets, Y/N rubbed the remainders of sleep from her eyes to greet the rose-pink light of dawn. She supposed this was something most people would consider beautiful, but she didn't. Perhaps waking up grumpy and alone had clouded her judgment.

She slowly sat up, clinging on to the very last memory of the night before, but with little success. She remembered her and Harry drinking in the back of her car after the party. She remembered having sex on this bed — hot, intense, mind-blowing sex, which caused her to think it might've been just a crazy wet dream. Maybe he had never been here, maybe her brain had made everything up. But soon her doubt was washed away as she saw what he'd left on the nightstand.

Y/N lazily brushed her hair into place with her fingers and picked up the pink notebook to find a sticky note attached to the first page.

Morning, baby!

I was supposed to give this to you after my birthday party, but we got carried away and I forgot. Enjoy reading the other notes.

Your one and only,

Harry :)

Curious, Y/N flipped through her journal to find plenty of colorful sticky notes filled with his sloppy, yet adorable, handwriting. For every entry about him, he'd written a little message to retell the event from his point of view. He talked about how he'd felt when they first met in the treehouse, when he lost Thumper, when she kissed him for the first time and ran away...All the things he had wanted to say to her, but never had a chance to. And for her final entry, he'd added a line right next to her last one.

Your girl, always. (Now you're really my girl, always)

That morning, Y/N strolled down the streets of London, looking like she'd just won the lottery. She felt elated, her footsteps were light as a feather as she not only dodged between grumpy morning pedestrians but also said hello to them. She couldn't wait to see Eddie's reaction to her showing up this early. He would probably freak or even throw on a raincoat in case it started raining indoors.

"Good mor—"

"I'm in emotional distress!" Alice cried out the second Y/N walked in. "Harry Styles has a girlfriend!"

Those words froze her to the spot. She looked at Alice with her mouth agape, but Alice didn't give her time to let that sink in. The girl yanked the phone from Eddie, who was sitting quietly behind the counter, and showed Y/N a photo on Twitter.

"This just got released this morning. He was kissing someone at his birthday party last night!"

Y/N peered at the shot, feeling like her chest might explode. Fortunately, it'd been taken with a terrible camera, from a bad angle that you could mostly see Harry's back. But that one poor quality photo was all it took for Harry Styles to trend on Twitter. Fans were going insane and wanted to know the identity of this 'lucky girl'. Some, especially those who shipped him with Ruby, like Alice here, weren't thrilled at all.

"I'm going to kill myself. True love doesn't exist." Alice slammed her hands on the counter and dropped her head on them dramatically.

Eddie seemed concerned, yet too afraid to speak, so he signaled Y/N to say something.

"Hey, Al, I think..." Y/N trailed off as she shrugged off her coat and hung it up. "I think maybe Ruby and Harry are just...you know...normal friends...They're co-stars after all."

Alice groaned even louder, making Eddie roll his eyes. He nudged her with a pen and said, "at least now you know Ruby's not taken."

The girl lifted her contorted face to glare at him. "Oh please, as if one of us has a shot with her!" But then her eyes lit up, and she turned to Y/N. "Hey, you were at the party last night, right?"

"W-what?"

"I saw the story Isaac posted of you eating sushi."

"Oh, yeah." Y/N faked a laugh. "But I didn't see anything. I was in the house most of the time."

"Was Harry talking to someone there more than the others?"

"N-no, he was with his manager the whole night."

"What about Ruby? Was she there?"

Y/N parted her lips to speak, but thankfully, Eddie cut in, "give her a break, Al. She said she didn't know. Now please get to work."

"Fine!" Alice gave him a shrug. "Guess I'll be at the back using the new books to wipe my tears."

"Hey, if you do that I'll cut down your salary, ya hear me?!" Eddie shouted at the girl before turning back to Y/N.

The poor girl was still in shock. After all, it was the first time she'd gone viral. Though nobody had figured out it was her, she knew it was her in the photo, kissing Harry. And he wasn't just her Harry, he also belonged to everyone who knew and loved him. This feeling in the pit of her stomach made her feel sick. Her heart was beating like a drum, and her palms soaked with sweat. She didn't realize she'd spaced out until Eddie's voice pulled her back to reality.

"Y/N! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." She nodded fast.

Maybe she was naturally good at faking smiles, maybe Eddie was insensible to her feelings. Either way, she was glad he changed the topic.

"You're not gonna be here on Monday, right?" he asked, to her surprise.

It took her a second to realize that he was talking about Celine's wedding. "Right," she confirmed. "I'll be gone for a week."

The man clicked his tongue in frustration as he heard. "Oh God, I hope Alice's mental state will go back to normal soon."

"Has she ever been normal?"

"You're right. She's always been a little off. Now she's just worse." Sighing, Eddie fixed his glasses and went on, "are you going to the wedding alone? If you need a wedding date, I'm always available."

Wedding date. The voice inside her head sighed at those two words. Celine and Amala still thought that Harry would come back to Holmes Chapel with her to attend their wedding. They didn't know that their best friend was too afraid to ask him, for she already knew what the answer would be. There was no way he could squeeze a wedding in his tight schedule.

"I already have a date." She felt bad for lying to Eddie. But since when did she feel bad for lying? Being in love had really changed her.

"Guess I'm gonna have to take my mum to the movies next weekend," Eddie said with a shrug. "But I'm happy for you, Y/N. I showed up at my aunt's wedding alone and they put me in the kids' table. You wouldn't want that."

"Maybe because you look like one."

"Shut up!" The man waved her off and fixed his glasses. "Okay, get to work. I have to make sure Alice's not crying on my new books."

"Okay, love you, Ed!"

"You don't!"

Eddie had just walked away when Yellow by Coldplay blasted from Y/N's pocket. She didn't need to check who it was, because she'd set that ringtone especially for him.

"Hi." A corner of her mouth lifted as she could feel him smirking on the phone. "They gave us a five-minute break and I miss you," said Harry. His voice was raspy and low, so she imagined him hiding somewhere to make this call. The thought of them being secretive and sneaky when in public always excited her. She loved to think of them as the modern Romeo and Juliet, of course, minus the dying part.

Y/N rested her elbow on the countertop as she held the phone at her ear. "I miss you too," she said, grinning. "Saw your little surprise this morning. I loved it."

"I knew you would." He chuckled lowly. "Have you read any of my notes?"

"Just a few. I'll read the rest when I get home."

"Good." Again, the sound of his stupid smirk made the butterflies in her stomach soar. She found herself picking at the wood and chewing on her lip, like a nervous fourteen-year-old talking to her crush on the phone.

She hated to ruin this happy moment for them, but her anxiety didn't let her enjoy it fully. "Hey, baby," Y/N lowered her voice. "Have you seen the photo?"

"Yeah." He breathed. She could imagine his smile slowly fading. "It's awfully blurry though. No one knows it's you."

"It's taken from inside the house, H."

"I know. My team's trying to find out who took it. I bet it's the Declan twins."

Or Ruby, Y/N thought to herself, but decided not to say it aloud.

"Don't worry, kid. Whoever took that photo probably didn't even know it was you, or else they would've told the whole world already. Everything's fine."

Though Harry sounded calm, she didn't know for sure if that was how he actually felt. However, there was nothing she could do now but to leave it all to him. She'd signed up for this, and now she had to go with the flow.

"Hey, I have something to tell you," she changed the subject. This might not be the best time to pop the question, but since Eddie had brought up the whole 'wedding date' thing, she thought it wouldn't hurt to just ask. "So I'm going back to Holmes Chapel in two days, and I'll stay there for a week for Celine and Amala's wedding."

"You already told me that." He chuckled.

"Yeah, but...like..." Just say it, God damn it! "Would you like to go with me?"

"Back home?"

"I mean...yeah...Would you like to come as my...wedding date? I mean, only if you're free next weekend."

There was a long pause. And his answer was exactly what she had expected. "I'm really sorry, love," he said with a heavy sigh. What came next, however, was completely out of nowhere. "I'll be in Paris for the next two weeks."

"P-Paris?" She felt a lump in a throat and struggled to release the words from her mouth. "You'll be in Paris for what?"

"We're filming some scenes there. I'm...I'm actually...leaving in two days. I was going to tell you last night but..."

Two days?!

"How long have you known about this?"

"Uh..."

"Harry!"

"S-since the first day we started shooting."

His answer felt like an ice bucket in the face for her. She was surprised she hadn't hung up on him yet. "So you've known since the day we officially got together and kept it from me this whole time?"

"No, that's not—" He stopped himself with a hiss. "The trip was supposed to be at the end of next month, but they've made a few changes—"

"I don't care if it's next week or next month! You knew, and you didn't tell me!"

"I'm really sorry." His voice lowered. "Are you...are you mad at me?"

"I'm not," she said, staring at the ceiling.

"Really?" he questioned as if testing the water. "Because I'm pretty mad at myself."

"Look, it's fine. We'll talk more about it tonight, okay?"

"Promise you're not mad at me?"

"Harry..."

"Promise me, please!"

"Fine! I promise I'm not mad at you." Y/N exhaled. She wished she could be mad at him, but then again, people who were in love didn't feel and think the way normal people did in certain situations. With this man, Y/N knew she had gone too far from being sane.

"Good," Harry happily said, probably wearing that boyish grin that she adored. "Now say you love me."

"I love you. Gosh, you're such a baby sometimes."

"I love you too, Bambi," he responded with a light chuckle. "See you at home."

It was the first time he'd referred to her cheap flat as 'home'. He probably didn't even think when he said it. Still, it meant so much to her. It made her feel secure even though this was the most insecure position she had ever been in. And so she kept replaying the word in her head and telling herself that everything would be just fine.

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Harry stepped into the shower, fully clothed, toes flinching as they touched the cool tiled floor. His mind was in shreds as he watched the drops trickled down her bare back and slowly looked up to meet her questioning stare. Guilt washed over him like a tidal wave, but he refused to acknowledge it.

Ruby didn't say a word, not asking him to leave, not asking him to stay. She turned her head and resumed bathing her skin gently, letting the lukewarm water darken her hair. The unfamiliar melody she was humming got Harry distracted as he stepped forward, and circled his strong arms around her little waist. He pulled her in, pressing her naked form firmly against his clothed chest. Now his face and neck were flushed, not just because of the steamy shower.

The ex-lover ran her hands across his arms and her body shuddered at his slightest touch. Slowly, she turned around, their eyes met once again. The air almost drained out of his lungs as he finally found the courage to reach for her face. His fingertips followed the water streaming down her cheeks to her neck, then her shoulders and her arms. Ruby breathed out gently as goosebumps pimpled her skin.

Her voice was soft. "I thought you wouldn't come back."

"I...I had to," Harry faltered. "I missed you...so much."

She gave him a bashful smile and then guided his hands to her hips. "I know you did," she said contently.

Without breaking their eye contact, she began to unbutton his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. Her palms smoothed across the tattoos on his chest, the ones that she'd touched and kissed and tasted too many times before. As she lifted her face, Harry lowered his head.

"Take me," she murmured, her lips ghosting over his. "Show me how much you missed me."

His entire body was on fire, but it wasn't the kind of burn that brought him comfort. Now he was gawking at the naked girl without blinking. Shit. What was he supposed to say next?

"Cut!"

Harry snapped back to reality as all the lights came on and the director told the whole crew to take five. As he followed Ruby out of the shower, two girls from her team came with a big towel to help her get dry and into her robe. The ones on his team tried to do the same to him, but he waved them off and took the towel to do it himself.

"Mon Dieu! What's going on between you two?" asked the French lady in the quirky satin dress as she pointed to Ruby, her eyes on him. "Do you hate her?"

"N-no, I—"

"Then stop acting like you do!" she cried out. "Harry, sweetheart, I love you to death but that was terrible! You were supposed to be her amant, the lover who kept coming back every time she pushed you away! You were supposed to love her more than anything in this world! That wasn't what I saw back there. It felt like she loved you completely and you didn't even want to be with her."

"I'm sorry, Eva. I'll...I'll fix it."

"Non!" The director shook her head. "You cannot do that alone. Both of you, talk to each other and work things out! We'll shoot another scene later and will do this scene again tomorrow."

"But—"

"Early lunch for everyone else!"

As Eva ignored Harry and walked off, he was left alone with Ruby and their gigantic problem. She was wearing the biggest frown, so he expected her to come at him with a her most ruthless comments. But no, she calmly took the towel around his neck and began to help him dry his hair and his face.

Flustered, he pushed her hands away. "It's...it's okay. I can do it myself."

Ruby froze for a second. Her eyes narrowed as she shoved the towel back in his hands. That was how he knew this conversation would not turn out the way their director wanted.

"Look into my eyes and be honest with me," she spoke with her arms crossed. "Do you hate me?"

"No."

"Because if you do, you should say it aloud so we can get it over with."

"I don't hate you." He breathed into his palm and shoved that hand into his damp hair. "But after what happened last night, I don't know if I even want to be around you anymore."

"What I said was wrong, but those were just harmless words!" She rolled her eyes and soon noticed the change in his expression. "Go ahead," said the actress, to his surprise. "I know what you're thinking, so go ahead and say it."

"Did you take that photo?"

"Fuck you," she spat, but made sure not to draw any attention in this room to them. "Look what she's done to you, H. You're worrying about her way too much that it starts to affect everything you do."

"She hasn't done anything to me," he grumbled as she was getting on his nerves. "But what have you done to yourself? Why are you so hateful now? I moved on and I'm in love. Why can't you just be happy for me and fucking accept that?"

Though Ruby appeared unbothered by those words, both of them knew they had never hit her harder. Even so, she didn't allow herself to look vulnerable.

"How you feel about me, and how I feel about you and that girl have nothing to do with this," she asserted, anger overtook her face. "Yes, I'm still in love with you, and I think you two are bad for each other because she will ruin your career. But when the camera starts rolling, we aren't you and me anymore, we're Elia and Jay. So if Jay cannot love Elia because Harry's afraid his little girlfriend can't handle a simple sex scene, then maybe Harry's a terrible actor and should consider giving the role to someone more deserving."

And then she stormed off, leaving him standing there with the damage her cruel and thoughtless words had done.

.

.

.

When Y/N answered the call from her boyfriend, she knew right away that he was drunk. He greeted her with the loudest "I love you, my sweet Bambi!" and jabbered away just to hang up because he needed to pee. A few missed calls and unread messages later, he finally made it back to her place.

He stumbled into the flat with his hair a mess and his shirt half-untucked. The first thing he did was wrap his arms around her waist. The words "I miss you" and "I'm sorry" poured endlessly from his lips. Though drunk, he still remembered how she felt about him visiting her so late and plastered.

Last year, he'd told her that alcohol used to be his coping mechanism. Once he'd started, he didn't know how to stop. Each drink seemed like a better idea, his jokes got funnier and he could flirt with any woman he fancied. He felt more charming and witty and invincible. That was why for months after his scandalous break up with Ruby, he'd had a drinking problem which he'd proudly called therapy. And Y/N guessed it had happened again today. Something bad had happened to him at work and he needed to feel better about himself. It saddened her that he'd chosen alcohol instead of coming home and talking to her.

With a six-foot man glued to her front, Y/N struggled to reach the door and lock it with one hand. His grip around her waist tightened as he hummed into her neck, making her think he would pass out, but then he said, "I kissed her and she was naked...and I didn't like it at all..."

The little confession froze her to the spot. Y/N swallowed as she pulled away and her arms came around his neck, bringing his forehead to hers. "Kiss who? Ruby?"

He nodded with hooded eyes. "I don't wanna hurt you, but I made everyone angry. Do you...do you think...I'm a bad actor?"

"No, of course not." She cupped his flushed cheeks. Although she didn't fully understand the story, she could guess most of it. Now a part of her felt guilty knowing she was the reason he couldn't do his job. He even assumed it was his fault, that he was bad at something he'd been passionate about for most of his life.

"Wait on the couch, I'll draw you a bath," she said, changing the subject, but he kept on nuzzling her neck and refused to let her go.

"What's it that you use?" he asked quietly. "You smell like...like my mother's garden in the spring."

His lovely comparison made her smile. "That's what you would smell like if you were sober and clean."

"I am sober and clean!"

"No, you're not. You need a bath or you'll be sleeping on the couch tonight."

"Will you join me?" He puckered up his lips while slightly tugging at her t-shirt. "Take this off. Get naked and join me."

"Harry..."

"Please? I'll be good. You don't have to fuck me."

Her mouth twitched in amusement as he brushed his nose against hers. She had just taken a shower before he arrived, but a warm bath didn't sound like a bad idea. After all, she desperately needed to get rid of the smell of alcohol on her body.

Taking his hand, she led him to the bathroom and asked him to wait for her to return with some clothes and towels. However, he didn't listen and ended up following her around like a lost puppy. As they waited for the tub to get filled, he sat on the edge with her and tried to braid her hair. The steam helped sober him up, so by the time they finished taking off their clothes, he had become more self-aware.

Y/N sat between his legs, with her back against his chest and her head on his shoulder. She'd made it clear that they were both too exhausted to have sex, but once his fingers had found her clit, her moans encouraged him to continue. The next thing she knew, she was riding him. His head tilted back on his neck, and small grunts snuck passed his lips every time she sunk back down on him, fucking him slow and steady.

It started out as sweet love-making, until Harry couldn't take it anymore and gripped her hips, driving himself into her. She clung to the back of his neck with one hand, the other smacked flat to the tile wall above his head as he thrust harder, sloshing more water out of the tub. She was the first to come, shouting his name as his body tightened and his cock twitched against her sensitive walls. She rode him through his orgasm until there was nothing left of them but heavy limps, numb fingertips, and fireworks exploding in their minds.

Harry panted and bit down lightly on her shoulder as he recovered. Her eyes slowly opened and took in the sight of him chewing on his delicious lip, his brows puckered up, and his eyes lazy. She watched the tiny beads racing down his handsome face, not sure if it was sweat or their bathwater, but she knew they would have to draw another bath.

"No, Harry, I can't. I'm too tired," he mocked and his softened penis slipped out of her, making they both groan.

"You do that voice again and you'll be sucking your own dick," she warned him, her nose scrunched up. The threat made Harry chuckle as he pulled her in and kissed her twice on the mouth.

While waiting for Harry to refill the tub, Y/N went to get her phone and put her playlist on shuffle. She put the phone in a cup, placed it on the sink before joining Harry in the water again. They sat in the same position with her back against his chest.

The light in Y/N's bathroom was bright and sterile, lacking even a trace of warmth. That was why she normally hated to look at herself in her bathroom mirror. All the scars she'd got growing up would shine like a beacon under this light, and then she'd be reminded that she wasn't his perfect girl. But tonight, she wanted to stay here forever with him so he could caress all the places she hated on her body.

Half of this city turning their lights on Like half of this city has an idea Cars slowly passing right down on main street Don't keep on driving, let me say something

"What's the name of this song?" he asked, breaking the silence between them.

"Don't Keep Driving by The Paper Kites," she said with a beam. "You love it?"

He gave her a nod and nibbled at her earlobe. "It's a good song. Makes me feel like I'm driving around the city at night while it's raining."

"Exactly!" She brightened. "I listened to it on repeat while we were apart last year."

"Does it remind you of me?"

His question made her smile. Still, she never answered.

There's nothing wrong with a little space But not right now, don't leave There's nothing wrong with a little time But for the memories, for the good things Don't leave

"Did you write me those notes to make up for the Paris thing?" she asked all of a sudden.

He gave her a nod, but then realized she was facing away from him, so he spoke, "yeah."

"Hmm." Not the response he was hoping to hear.

"Have you read them all?" he went on to make sure she wasn't upset.

She didn't sound upset when she said, "not yet, I'm saving them for when you're not here."

"I'll video-call you every night to see your reaction when you read them."

His chest felt a thousand times lighter when her giggle softened the room, as if her gentle sound could turn this cold light golden and the water warmer.

His heart was full again, but at the same time, he couldn't ignore the melancholy feeling sinking in. He knew that he would miss her a lot when he was away. Two weeks wasn't a long time, but for a relationship as fragile as theirs, it could feel as long as two months or even two years. Who knew what would happen during those two weeks? They had a lot to lose now that they had each other.

Don't leave me Call me Turn around, turn around now Don't run away from me Don't leave, don't leave

The song went on, coming to an end, but its last words were still echoing in his head.

.

.

.

Harry had stayed up all night to mentally prepare himself to reshoot the sex scene. Even though Y/N had reassured him that she trusted him and understood that it was just for his role, he felt as if his lungs were on fire as he stepped into the shower and ran his hands all over his ex's body. But because Ruby continued to give him the silent treatment, he gave a better performance this time and didn't have to reshoot the scene.

Maybe he'd lulled himself into thinking if he didn't interact with Ruby off-camera, then it wouldn't feel like he was cheating on his girlfriend. But how was this fair to Y/N at all? If he were her, he wouldn't be able to stand someone else touching her the way Ruby had touched him, for a movie scene or not. Knowing his girl, he knew that even if his job did bother her, she wouldn't admit it to make him worried. That, unfortunately, made him a thousand times more anxious.

Last night, while drinking alone, he'd thought a lot about what Ruby had said. Though she was wrong about Y/N, she was right about most things, one of which was, he and Y/N might not be right for each other. At least, he might not be right for her. That thought came and went several times since he'd woken up, but he kept brushing it off. Because the last thing he needed right now was self-doubt. He'd struggled so hard to make her his, and now he was afraid that he didn't deserve to have her. That sounded absurd, stupid even. Still, he kept pondering it.

It was around 3 AM when he finished his last scene of the (previous) day. His plane to Paris departed at six-fifteen and he had to be at the airport at five, which gave him less than two hours to rest before the flight. As he got in the car, he immediately phoned his assistant to get his luggage ready and bring it to the airport. Then he asked his driver to take him to Y/N's place.

He had texted her in the afternoon that he might head straight to the airport after finishing work, and also promised to call her when he arrived in Paris. That had been the plan before he changed his mind at the last minute. He couldn't stand leaving without a proper goodbye. For such an emergency, he was glad she'd given him the key to her place. He didn't have to wake her up when he arrived.

Pulling his hoodie over his head, he went to her room, trying not to make a sound, but she had heard him come in and was already staring at the door, expecting him. She watched him take off his jeans, leaving only his t-shirt and boxers on as he slid under the duvets and cuddled her. Though her eyes were red from the lack of sleep, she was smiling, content, and at the same time, wondering.

"Aren't you supposed to be at the airport?" she asked.

"Not yet," he replied, kissing her forehead. "I'll hold you for a moment, and then I'll go."

He expected a cheeky response, but his Bambi didn't make another sound. She was just happy with the fact that he was here, so it didn't take her too long to fall back to sleep. Harry, on the other hand, couldn't close his eyes. Even though he'd set an alarm on his phone, he was wide awake and staring at the ceiling. He feared that if he took some rest, time would fly much faster, then goodbye would come much faster, and he had to leave much faster. He wasn't ready yet.

Lying still, he focused on the sound of her breathing and counted the number of times she talked in her sleep. Eleven in total. She never made sense, but he thought it was endearing because each time she spoke, she would shift closer to him. As time and space slowed down around them, unexpectedly came an ominous thought. Would she be happier if she had stayed with Isaac?

If she'd stayed with Isaac, she wouldn't have to wake up alone, she would never have to worry about her boyfriend making out with someone else and calling it acting, and she would've been able to kiss him in front of his friends at his birthday party. Scared by the thought, he squeezed her tighter. But that was also when the buzzing of his phone told him it was time for him to go.

He tried to be as careful as he could to sneak out without waking her up, but it wasn't his fault that Y/N was sensitive to the quietest noise. Slowly, she stirred awake and sat up as he did. Her voice tore down the gloomy silence of the room.

"Stay with me."

He looked over his shoulder and his heart almost broke when he saw her face. He'd never seen her like this, at least not when she was sober. His girl was tough and independent, and she'd never begged for his attention. But now she was clinging onto him like a little octopus, her face in his neck. He wished he could stay, but sadly, he wasn't the one to decide.

"I have to go now, love."

"No." She shook her head, pouting slightly. He was caught off guard when she snuck her fingers into his boxers and slowly stroked his hardened length up and down.

"Bambi, no." He gasped, his nostrils flared and so did his pupils. Quickly, he seized her wrist and groaned when the warmth of her soft hand left his erection, but he knew if he hadn't stopped her he'd give in and missed that Goddamn flight.

"I'll make it up to you when I get back, baby. I promise," he said, watching her lie back down and cover her face with both hands.

"It's gonna be the longest two weeks of my life," she groaned.

He rubbed her knee, scooting back to the center of the bed and sat with his legs crossed. She propped herself up on her elbow, now lying on her side, looking at him. In this orange bedroom light, her skin looked so warm, and her eyes so dark. He reached out and touched her face, stroking her bottom lip with his thumb. She was hypnotizing him with those sweet doe eyes, her ultimate weapon that got her exactly what she wanted and how she wanted. He had never won a battle against them before.

"What are you—"

"Shh."

Getting on his knees, he lifted her thighs and spread her legs. She was bare under the oversized t-shirt, already glistening and ready for him. He pressed a delicate kiss to her inner thigh, so close to where she needed him the most as his eyes fixated on her, taking in the breathtaking sight of his love with her head tossed back, her eyes shut and mouth agape. If only his mind could take pictures of her looking like this and save them for when he was alone in a different city.

"Harry, please, make me come."

And he'd miss this too, the way she moaned his name and begged for his touch. Smirking, he took her hands which were gripping the pillow and guided them to his hair. "Show me how you want it," he ordered, his breath made her hips buck in his face and she tugged hard, just like he'd asked her to. Who was he to deny her then?

He began with a closed-mouth kiss, followed by a wet and messier one before his tongue stroked into her, lapping at her moisture. Her heat tightened when he pulled away, his mouth returned to her clit as he worked two fingers in and out of her. The slippery sounds were driving her insane. She was a delicious mess when he held her down and lapped his tongue skillfully, not letting her arousal go to waste. Y/N had never come this hard and fast, she thought she might've passed out for a second. Her fists were tight against his skull, but he loved it, he let her ride his face and fingers until she was too spent and delirious to even flinch.

"Oh, shit..."

Harry broke into laughter as he crawled up to attach their lips for a dirty kiss, letting her have a taste of herself before he pulled back to admire her face.

"Hi." He grinned, his dimples were more prominent in the hazy bedroom light. She loved his dimples. She loved his smile. She loved this face. She loved him. When he pulled away and helped her up, her stomach clenched in the most unpleasant way.

He carried her to the bathroom. She hated when he picked her up like a child, but she didn't have a choice as her knees were too weak for her to walk on her own. After getting her cleaned up, they returned to the bedroom and he began putting on his clothes. She sat on the edge of the bed in silence, watching the man she loved get dressed. He wore that black hoodie she'd got for him because she didn't want him to get cold on the plane. She knew he'd got plenty of hoodies that were more expensive and could keep him warm much better. She'd only wanted an excuse to buy him clothes. At least now he could carry her warmth with him to another country.

She walked him to the door. Her heart sank lower to his every step and when he turned back to kiss her goodbye. She held him tightly, arms locked around his neck, inhaling his scent for the last time before he went.

"I love when you're like this." He chuckled. "So clingy."

"Shut up," she rasped, but not letting go. "Call me when you get to the hotel?"

"I will. I love you so much."

"I love you more."

For every single 'I love you's they'd said to each other until now, they had always meant it. But this time, they meant it more than ever. Y/N supposed normal couples didn't say goodbye this way. Some didn't even bother to say goodbye at all when one of them went away for only two weeks. But normal couples didn't have to hide from the rest of the world nor face the never-ending fear of losing each other for the hundredth time. Maybe one day, they could be one of those normal couples. But right now, this was all they got.

After sending him out of the door, Y/N went back inside so she didn't have to watch him leave. It would break her heart and she'd burst into tears and made a fool out of herself.

Telling himself the same thing, Harry rushed down the stairs and didn't look back, not even once.

[kasprzaks]

eddie kasprzak, reactionary extraordinaire

both   balloons   tethered   to   the   microfilm   recorder   now   read   ASTHMA   MEDICINE   GIVES   YOU  CANCER!   below   the   slogan   are   grinning   skulls. 

eddie’s characterisation flooding its way into the third person narrator in the book ESPECIALLY in eddie’s bad break is amazing and i’d die for it. his voice elsewhere in the book is very poetic and looks at things more conceptually than solidly, but the more of a grounding in this chapter while his head runs wild continues and tries to comprehend such a horrible conversation (specifically looking at his convo with mr keene in eddie’s bad break p2) succeeds so much to solidify him as a character outside of just what he says and does. i love it so here’s an entire collection that shows his reactions and the intensity he reaches as he buries himself in his brain in such a difficult situation and how it’s integrated into the prose in such a way we really feel like we’re living in his head despite the third person gap we have to cross to get there.

                 ‘Mr Keene,' he says, and his voice sounds distant to his own ears, without power. 'It was Mr Keene.'

                 'Not exactly the nicest man in Derry,' Mike says, but Eddie, lost in his thoughts, barely hears him.

... eddie always always has a whole thing of trying to be brave (and in this chapter he’s always saying something along the lines of what would big bill do?) but, in the process, manages to get so worked up he’s at a disconnect to what’s actually going on. as he starts to recall the memory with the rest of the losers 27 years later, he starts retreating into his own head because that’s simply how he is. he’s such a thinker that even the second he says it, he’s fading out. he barely hears him. this follows on as he recalls the memory and it’s contrary to the rest of the book where, normally, since we see eddie through someone else’s eyes (third person limited omniscient since the book is made up of multiple third person narrations), we only really see him being quiet as opposed to the actual physical disconnect we see when it is an eddie third person limited in complicated moments.

                 Mr Keene sat down in the swivel chair behind his desk and took one. Then he opened his drawer and took something out. He put it down next to the tall bottle of licorice whips and Eddie felt real alarm course through him. It was an aspirator. Mr Keene tilted back in his swivel chair until his head was almost touching the calendar on the wall behind him. The picture on the calendar showed more pills. It said SQUIBB. And —

                — and for one nightmare moment, when Mr Keene opened his mouth to speak, Eddie remembered what had happened in the shoe store when he was just a little kid, when his mother had screamed at him for putting his foot in the X-ray machine. For that one nightmare moment Eddie thought Mr Keene would say: 'Eddie, nine out of ten doctors agree that asthma medicine gives you cancer, just like the X-ray machines they used to have in the shoe stores. You've probably got it already. Just thought you ought to know.'

... he struggles to stay in the moment and this is just how he is his whole life. i’m gonna reference it chapter two for a second but the fact that his job in that version was a risk analyst? god send, they really hit the nail on the head for what they were trying to do in that interpretation there and i totally see how they got to it because risk analysing is just what he does. in this part where he sits down with mr keene, the convo hasn’t even begun. no one’s said a word and yet the second mr keene shows promise of saying anything, mr active imagination risk analyst eddie kasprzak has already thought up everything and dreamt himself into oblivion. scenarios exist without ever fully existing and in any given moment he’s already left reality and hopped onto another universe where the worst has just or will just happen.

                 Mr Keene wrapped a bunched, bony, liverspotted hand around the balloon and squeezed. The balloon bulged over and under his fist and Eddie winced, trying to get ready for the pop. Simultaneously he felt his breathing stop altogether. He leaned over the desk and grabbed for the aspirator on the blotter. His shoulder struck the heavy ice-cream-soda glass. It toppled off the desk and shattered on the floor like a bomb.

                 Eddie heard that only dimly. He was clawing the top off the aspirator, slamming the nozzle into his mouth, triggering it off. He took a tearing heaving breath, his thoughts a ratrun of panic as they always were at moments like this: Please Mommy I'm suffocating I can't BREATHE oh my dear God oh dear Jesus meekandmild I can't BREATHE phase I don't want to die don't want to die oh please —

                Then the fog from the aspirator condensed on the swollen walls of his throat and he could breathe again.

                'I'm sorry,' he said, nearly crying. 'I'm sorry about the glass . . . I'll clean it up and pay for it . . . just please don't tell my mother, okay? I'm sorry, Mr Keene, but I couldn't breathe —

... gets very caught up on one thing. he does this whole whole chapter. it goes on in the next quote here ...

                'Good,' Mr Keene said. 'We have an understanding. And you feel much better now, don't you?'

                Eddie nodded.

                'Why?'

                'Why? Well . . . because I had my medicine.' He looked at Mr Keene the way he looked at Mrs Casey in school when he had given an answer he wasn't quite sure of.

                'But you didn't have any medicine,' Mr Keene said. 'You had a placebo.A placebo, Eddie, is something that looks like medicine and tastes like medicine but isn't medicine. A placebo isn't medicine because it has no active ingredients. Or, if it is medicine, it's medicine of a very special sort. Head-medicine.' Mr Keene smiled. 'Do you understand that, Eddie? Head-medicine.'

                Eddie understood, all right; Mr Keene was telling him he was crazy. But through numb lips he said, 'No, I don't get you.'

... it’s hard to understand that this is the truth, let alone why he’s being told this. obviously eddie’s determined on the fact that he’s not crazy, but the main part up until this point i got caught up on was his continued disconnect and mostly passive not wanting to change at all attitude so he can get out of there. the numb lips and the references before to having his voice being distant, him constantly disappearing off into the tangents his head brings him on. there’s few and far between moments where he actually responds in between mr keene telling him what he’s telling him, and the prose between that is him thinking (panickingly thinking), filled with him trying to dream up other things and trying to ground himself in thinks he can compare the unfamiliar to. i especially love the cut in, in the first quote that sk puts through the whole book of another narration coming straight from eddie’s head. the stream of panic to really push it through.

                Eddie said: 'My medicine does so work.'

                'I know it does,' Mr Keene replied, and smiled a maddening complacent grownup's smile. 'It works on your chest because it works on your head. HydrOx, Eddie, is water with a dash of camphor thrown in to give it a medicine taste.'

                'No,' Eddie said. His breath had begun to whistle again.

                Mr Keene drank some of his soda, spooned some of the melting ice cream, and fastidiously wiped his chin with his handkerchief while Eddie used his aspirator again.

                'I want to go now,' Eddie said.

                'Let me finish, please.'

  ��             'No! I want to go, you've got your money and I want to go!'                 ...                'I'm not crazy,' Eddie whispered, the words coming out in a bare husk.Mr Keene's chair creaked like a monstrous cricket. 'What?''I said I'm not crazy!' Eddie shouted. Then, immediately, a miserable blush rose into his face.

... the moment the panic finally takes over and becomes enough. strangely (thought it makes total sense when thinking about how internal eddie is versus when he’s finally had enough and gets pushed over the edge) he really does lash out. he’s immediately embarrassed that he’s done it, but he does do it. he switches from the passive life line carrying on in his brain he’s hoping will carry him out of the situation, and tries to get out of it before the emotional gets too much and really tries to put a stop to it. all in good time, too, because when eddie finally does leave ...

               Eddie's brain thudded and whirled. Oh, he felt sick, he felt very sick.                 ...                 He slipped it into his pocket and watched the traffic pass back and forth, headed up Main Street and down Up-Mile Hill. He tried not to think. The sun beat down on his head, blaringly hot. Each passing car threw bright darts of reflection into his eyes, and a headache was starting in his temples.

... emphasis on the sensory and the physical manifestations of his emotions. he feels so strongly and the physical ramifications comes as a result of his anxiety. his head aches, his ‘asthma’ is acting up. of course he takes his inhaler but a few moments later and ... 

              He looked fixedly at the aspirator, unaware of the old lady who glanced curiously at him as she passed on down the hill toward Main Street with her shopping basket over her arm. He felt betrayed. And for one moment he almost cast the plastic squeeze bottle into the gutter — better yet, he thought, throw it down that sewer– grating. Sure! Why not? Let It have it down there in Its tunnels and dripping sewer-pipes. Have a pla–cee-bo, you hundred-faced creep! He uttered a wild laugh and came within an ace of doing it. But in the end, habit was simply too strong. He replaced the aspirator in his right front pants pocket and walked on, hardly hearing the occasional blare of a horn or the diesel drone of the Bassey Park bus as it passed him. He was likewise unaware of how close he was to discovering what being hurt — really hurt — was all about.

... this is straying away from the actual point of the post slightly, but, as it says, habit remains too strong. he’s a character that almost always returns to the ‘comfortable’, though familiar is actually a much better word for it. to return to the point of the post in regards to this, though this time the technique isn’t exclusive to eddie centric chapters, all of the losers get cut in moments of it, i especially love eddie’s thought process tied into this moment straight up verbatim. though it’s tragic that he doesn’t follow through and chuck the aspirator down the drain (though completely understandable too), this moment ties into everything else we see of the intricacies of eddie’s inner world and how it’s obviously a full one. he really does live up there. humouring any and all possibilities no matter how out there or terrible they may seem is something that he constantly does, it’s who he is. eddie lives in the hypothetical. i think this chapter really demonstrates that and lets eddie’s discomfort become so overwhelming that it’s so difficult to even pay attention to what’s going on which totally brings us into eddie’s psyche. concentrating is difficult when you could run upstairs and live there. it’s comfortable, it’s familiar, and it doesn’t really hurt as much as the real.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

okay when I’m with you

Summary: a continuation of the story ‘okay’ of @reddie-fangirl24​, where Richie and Eddie get home after the car accident, and Eddie is still a little upset. 

the first part: https://reddie-fangirl24.tumblr.com/post/190168324075/okay-a-reddie-fanfiction 

They finally make it home after a checking Eddie out in the ambulance, and determining that the only thing that Eddie is suffering from is shock. The car ride was quite, only filled with soft sniffles from Eddie and the occasional sorry he aimed towards Richie.

The thing is, Richie doesn’t want any apology. Sure, the car was his favorite, and it does kind of suck that it’s ruined now, but that’s absolutely nothing compared  to Eddie. Richie would happily have every material thing he owns be destroyed, for as long as Eddie’s okay. After being a nip away from losing Eddie forever, Richie’s been filled with this anxiousness that he still might lose him, and he hates it. The last thing he wants to do is appear to be like Myra or Sonia, but he can’t help but put his head on Eddie’s chest at night, to hear his heart beat and feel his chest rise and fall.

Which is why when Eddie called sobbing on the phone, and it was just his stupid car, Richie bursted into tears the entire ride to the scene of the car accident. It must show on his face, He’s always been an ugly crier, but Eddie interpreted his crying as for the car, instead of him. He could be really dense sometimes.

Richie wants to say all of this to Eddie, and do what he needs to do to prove it, but he has no clue how or where to even begin. Insults and jokes are mostly the way Richie communicates, the truth hidden within the inappropriate comments he makes, and he’s gotten so accustomed to making them, that he has no idea how to say something straightforward anymore.

He supposes that it’s a coping mechanism, a way that he can play off what he said by claiming that he was only aiming for laughs and it’s one that he is working on changing. He tries to be serious, to say the words that form in his brain but he’s too scared to say out loud, especially after the third time Eddie apologizes, but when he insists that Eddie has nothing to be sorry about, the latter doesn’t believe him.

He’s so relieved though, when the paramedics checked him out and concluded that besides being in shock, that as soon he opens the front door, he pulls Eddie close, and kisses him passionately , trying to convey the things he’s not saying. I’m so glad you’re okay. I’m not mad, as long as you’re here with me I could never be mad.

Eddie stands silent, looking dejected, as if he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do. The tiredness on his face is evident, though he still maintains that he is doing fine. At the very least he stopped hypervelenting and subtly reaching for his inhaler, like he was doing at the scene. 

He has to refrain from creating a diversion, a way to avoid talking about serious issues, ushering Eddie towards their sofa instead.

‘Do you want some tea Eds?’

There’s no visible reaction from Eddie, who staring blankly ahead, but he loves tea, so Richie decides to make some anyway.

Mint tea isn’t Eddie’s go to choice, but it’s the only one they have at their disposal, and Richie refuses to leave Eddie alone, even if it would be to please him. It’s not that Eddie hates the drink, and considering how blank his eyes appear to be, he probably won’t taste the difference anyway.

While the water boils, Richie enters their shared bedroom to grab a t-shirt and some sweatpants, Eddie’s usual attire to go to bed in.

He places it on the edge of the couch where Eddie is seated, an offering to help make him feel comfortable without pushing him to do anything.

‘For if you want something comfy’, he explains, before turning back to the tea. Times like this make Richie question everything he does, down to the smallest details. Every action, every word he puts under great scrutiny. Not that that’s any different than usual, but whenever Richie tries to take care of Eddie, it’s another defined way of overthinking. He never wants to do any of things Eddie’s mom and soon to be ex-wife did, even if he has a clear idea of what he wants to happen.

The paramedics told him that Eddie would be in shock, and that the best thing to do was to get him relaxed and if possible even sleeping. When Richie has suggested doing just that, Eddie had shaken his head determinedly, and Richie dropped the issue in favor of avoiding more stress on Eddie.

When the water is boiled, he adds some fresh mint, and three table spoons of sugar, just the way Eddie likes it, and grabs a water bottle too. Richie too sits down on the sofa, close to Eddie, but not enough to be suffocating, and presenting the drink as if it’s a gift, with his dramatic flairs present. ‘Your tea, my good fellow.’ The British accent falls even flatter than when he first started to use it, worry seeping through in every single word.

Eddie glances up then, accepting the mug without a smile, and letting it rest of his upper leg while watching the way the mint leaves float around in the warm water.

It’s silent for a long time, much longer than Richie usually is able to bare, but it’s Eddie, and if Eddie needs time, then Richie will give him exactly that. He can’t say he’s not relieved when Eddie starts muttering sometime later however.

‘Are you mad at me?’

Richie scoffs, unable to prevent himself from doing so.

‘I told you before Eds, it was just a stupid car. Nothing is as important as you are.’

When the two of them make eye contact, Richie notices the tears glistening in Eddie’s eyes, red rimed and more distraught than he has seen them in a while.

‘Why don’t you believe me?’

A sob tumbles from Eddie’s lips, as he skootches closer to Richie to bury himself in his loving embrace. Richie reciprocated instantly, his arms hovering above Eddie’s shoulders, debating whether or not he should hug him tighter.

‘Why not? You have every right to be, I wrecked your car’, Eddie says miserably, his voice muffled from where his mouth is buried in Richie’s chest. Eddie looks impossible smaller this close to Richie’s body, and for a moment he looks like a child again.

When Richie takes a deep breath, he steadies himself for being honest with Eddie, despite how terrifying the prospect looked.

‘Because I don’t care about my car, I care about you. As long as you’re fine, I’m fine.’

‘Well you should be, it’s my fault. You’re an idiot if you’re not mad at me’, Eddie scolds, lifting his head up and glaring at Richie like the time Richie forced him jump in the quarry with his clothes still on. Then it disappears with a blink. His scowls drops, his mouth opens slightly and his face screams how distraught he is with being rude to Richie out of the blue, despite the fact that Richie had anticipated this.

That’s a side effect from the trauma.

‘It’s fine’, he soothes as he presses a feather light kiss on Eddie’s forehead.

‘The other driver was at fault too, he was speeding. You weren’t paying attention but that happens Eddie Spaghetti, do you know the amount of times I did something stupid or reckless? It could have easily been me who had the accident.’

‘Yeah, but I wasn’t paying attention because of Myra.’

At her name, Richie feels anger course through his veins. At first he found it funny, to see her get worked up over the divorce, a younger miss Kaspbrak who Richie had a ton of jokes lined up for, but as time went on and she was still finding ways to interfere with their lives, Richie started to get annoyed with her. The divorce was almost completed, but she kept drawing it out to torture her former husband for as long as possible. Over time, Richie started to dislike her as much as Eddie did.

But it’s not about her, Eddie’s not doing well, and she was not ruing something else for them.

‘Hey Eds, looks at me.’ He waits until Eddie complies to continue. ‘This has to end. Next time she calls, you tell her to deal with your lawyer, and you block her phone number.’

Eddie opens his mouth to protest, but force once Richie won’t be deterred about this and so he teed he’s through.

‘I’m serious, she’s doing this because she can. If you’d stop returning her calls, she’ll have no choice but to give up. Stop letting her dictate your life.’

Eddie lets out a sigh, muttering an agreement, and even if Richie knows that it’ll take more than one conversation about this to convince him, he lets the subject go for now, choosing to focus and Eddie’s well-being.

‘I’m really not mad okay, just please get some rest okay? Drink your tea, put on some sleeping close and let’s cuddle, how does that sound?’

Regardless of the tears still lingering, Eddie nods with a barely noticeable smile, leaning in towards Richie, the lips meeting halfway. It’s less timid than the one they shared before, but still just as much filled with love and in sync with the other. Richie dares to poke his tongue out, and Eddie opens eagerly, causing the supposedly shot kiss to become a full on make out session.

Richie puts a stop to it before it can go any further, gently pushing Eddie a bit away from him, motioning at the lukewarm mug that is still in Eddie’s grip.

It takes a few minutes, but when they finally make it to bed, Richie turns to lay on his side, his body flush against Eddie’s, spooning him from behind. They always fall asleep like this, Eddie falling asleep protected, and Richie falling asleep knowing that if something were to happen, he had Eddie in his arms.

[piracytheorist]

How do you think they assassinated Emma’s character in s6? I thought Emma was very true to character in s6. She fought for the people she loved and to protect innocents. She fought for Killian, Belle, and even was willing to sacrifice her own life rather than kill Gideon, because she knew the Black Fairy had his heart and was controlling him. I thought Emma was very heroic in s6.

Oh well, I guess you’re one of those who think that just because she was a good person, she was also well written. I mean okay, if you love her and felt inclined to see all the good in her, great, but since you asked me, and I don’t think I’ve made a complete post with all my problems with Emma’s writing in s6, here goes.

Note that it’s not my intention to hate on Emma here. But because up until the end of s5, I loved what Emma had grown into, I was so, so disappointed by the writing choices. So remember, I’m criticizing the writing choices, not the character. (though I’m sure I’ll get nervous nellies coming at me and calling me a hater either way)

1. Her whole (and I mean, whole) development from s5 was completely ignored. Seriously, even from the first episodes from s6, it felt as if the writers had completely forgotten everything they wrote in s5. 

Season 5 Emma started scared, insecure, with the Darkness pushing her buttons and making her not trust in her family. By the end of 5A, she learned to trust them to help her - hence, she let them follow her in the Underworld. She did feel guilty, at times, but her growth was shown by her accepting that help.

S6? The first thing she does is hide from her family the fact that she has high chances of dying soon. She’s brought to re-learn the lesson of trusting her family, all over again, and play again the “you’re right I should’ve trusted you yadda yadda”.

Now, yes, in real life, people don’t drop such bad habits that easily. But OUAT wasn’t real life. And when you fucking trust your family to protect themselves and your underage child from whatever the Underworld may bring, I don’t know, hiding a potential death threat from them later sounds kinda illogical.

Point is, Emma had already gone through the process of learning to trust her family. S6 was just a complete re-do of s5. Hence, the writing “killed” the progess she did in s5.

2. The Captain Swan stuff. Oh boy, where do I fucking begin?

- She outright ignored Killian’s very obvious turmoil in 6x13 because she was oh so excited to get engaged. That was selfish, not a nice development.

- In s4, when she suspected Killian had a past with Ursula he wasn’t being truthful about, she confronted him in a very mature way, telling him what upset her and what she expected of him as her boyfriend without rocking their relationship at all.She trusted him to deal with the issue and let her in when/if he needed her. And that was awesome. But the moment Killian is having an issue in s6? She shouts at him, demands that he trust her, and breaks off (even if it was shown as a temporary break-off) their engagement. Which she had pretty much forced, btw. Certainly not a good development, especially since we saw her handle the relationship stuff very positively and carefully in s4, long before they had even exchanged “I love you”s, let alone get engaged.

- Talking about the trust stuff… she shouted at Killian about how he should have trusted her, when not ten episodes ago she’d done the exact same thing to him. Instead of looking inward and realizing that he only did what he did out of fear, like she had done before, the writers had her blame him. No support, no understanding, barely even a chance for him to explain himself. The scene where they fight about the dreamcatcher looks like it’s straight out of a cheesy soap opera and I simply cannot describe how much I hate it. And you know what’s even more ridiculous? When in 6x06 he comes clear to her about not throwing away the shears, she’s immediately understanding. Yes, she looks shaken by him having lied to her, but she does look inward and says “I would have done the exact same thing” - which, though it was beautiful, was another proof the writers had forgotten about s5, where she did that exact same thing by turning him into the Dark One, ignoring his wishes not to. So truly, the line should have been “I have done the exact same thing”. But anyway. Yet, when the same thing happens with the dreamcatcher, she shouts at him. What’s the logic there?

- Her first reaction in whateverthefuckepisodeitwasIdon’tcare, when Killian doesn’t come back after she broke off the engagement, is to assume he’d straight up abandoned her. Sure, abandonment issues yadda yadda. We’re talking about the guy who gave up his home for her happiness, endagered his life and even lost it twice for her, opened up to her in a way he hadn’t opened up to anyone in centuries, yet her first reaction is to think the most dedicated guy in the world gave up on her. That’s, again, a negative development from the woman who went to the fucking Underworld because she knew Killian would want to be back with her. Like, what else should Killian have done to prove to her that he won’t give up on her like that? I mean, even when he was shaken and wanted to leave with Nemo, it was with the aim to come back once he’d found himself. Instead Emma was written to immediately think he’d dumped her forever - so no understanding of her almost fiancee’s character and devotion to her. And it wasn’t even that she felt guilty over forcing the engagement on him and then abruptly breaking it off. She literally packed up his stuff and was about to go put them away. If she had felt guilty she would’ve kept them, but no, guess he’s gone forever now bye.

This was not the development Emma Swan deserved. Sure, she did heroic stuff. But the writing owed to her (and other characters too) to stay true to her. 

3. General stuff

- Getting rid of the shears was stupid and illogical from the get-go. There were two (or more? I don’t remember) openly evil magic users out there. She had a magical object that could change her life and have an impact on virtually everyone. Her solution? Throw it away and hope the expert magic users won’t find it. Though mentioning that feels like cheating because it was a collectively stupid idea. Hide them outside the town border, perhaps? Were all their brain cells burnt while in the Underworld?

- The wedding. Look, I’m not gonna go into detail here. Whether you liked it or not, her dress was 100% not Emma. It was nothing that represented her. The whole wedding was not about her and Killian, it was about the whole town - and if you like Adam’s quotes as much as my other anon did, even he said that the wedding was about the town (or was it Eddie who said that?), and what the fuck, marriage should be about the ones involved. Marriages for the communities usually signify some lack of consent (I’m thinking of matchmaking where the couple doesn’t even know each other before getting married, because they live in a regressive community or something). The super conservative dressthat we never found out why she would even like wearing doesn’t help, either.

- Saying that she was happy she grew up unloved because that made her strong. If you don’t realize how problematic that is just by itself, I don’t think any arguments I may present will convince you.

All those things cheapened her character. Combined, they outright destroyed her. I didn’t watch six seasons of the show, to see the woman who blew on a lonely cupcake on her birthday find people she loves and go through all kinds of turmoil for them and to be with them, only to a) continue to not trust her family, b) be a bad girlfriend c) doubt the devotion of the guy who literally died for her, d) be stupid, e) get married “for the community” in a super conservative dress and worst of all, f) pretty much become an abuse apologist.

Yes, Emma Swan still did good things and “savior stuff”. But that was pretty much the only good thing left in her character by the end. Everything else, considering her positive development, flew out the window. And all for the sake of drama. 

And that’s how Emma’s character was assassinated.

[simone-garnett]

title: strawberry kisses word count: 9.2k information: high school au. dedicated to @thatkillervibe bc i promised them i’d finish my high school au when they posted theirs and you should read it bc it’s incredible guys. it’s just unfair. also bc their reviews make me wanna cry.

          ao3  //  ffn

Caitlin isn’t quite sure how Iris convinced her to help out in the kissing booth of her school fair, Caitlin didn’t even attend that school. But Iris with a smile that could melt the coldest of hearts and a way with words that could convince an army general to turn on their country had turned up her charm, sweet talking Caitlin into agreeing, the girl helpless to refuse the pleas of her close friend, the squeal of joy from Iris and the hug almost make it seem worth it.

It helps that she would likely never have to see any of these people again, Caitlin’s own school over two hours away, a selective school that her mother swears has the best science department in the state. 

Iris goes on a million miles an hour, thanking her for the assistance, promising that nothing would happen that could hurt Caitlin, swearing the customers would wear blindfolds if it made her feel more comfortable doing it, the people not able to recognise her if they don’t know what she looks like.

Caitlin had already agreed, but it was sweet of Iris to try and protect her, the girl going on about how it would add an extra level of mystique around it. Caitlin nods, smiling as Iris gives her the date and details.

And then it is too late to change her mind, Caitlin unaware of the impact this one day would have on her life.

Nerves like butterflies in her stomach erupt as the day draws near, the mere thought of it enough to distract her from her studies, chemistry and biology playing second fiddle to the maelstrom of emotions inside her, playing havoc with her brain and heart. It is difficult to squash them down, but even at a young age she has mastered the skill, allowing herself a minute to wallow in its intensity before squashing it down, drowning out the noise with chemical equations and precipitation reactions and science. Because science was easy, it was comfortable, it wasn’t scary in the slightest. It becomes a struggle to ignore the feelings when it is only a few days, a few hours away, Caitlin giving up on trying, throwing herself on her bed, praying for sleep she knows won’t come.

And then it is here.

It is a nice, summer day, the school grounds of Central City High an eruption of colour and energy, the atmosphere buzzing from the excitement of students and parents and teachers alike, families and friends and couples walking through the grounds, smiles and laughter filling up the air, lifting up the spirits of everyone there.

Caitlin arrives early - she arrives everywhere early. She walks around, smiling softly to herself as she glances around. She walks around alone. It isn’t really anybody’s fault; Iris was running around, making sure everything was operating like a well-oiled machine, and Barry was trailing along. She knew no one else. And it showed. Showed to others, and to herself. Because everyone had someone, everyone but her. There was loneliness scratching at her heart, the small tickle enough to remind her that there was no one to enjoy it with.

It feels strange enjoying the carnival with no one else to share it with, so she relaxes, people watches until it is time for her to take her shift in the kissing booth. It brings a smile to her lips, imaginary lives created in an instant, the happiness of other - even imaginary - something that Caitlin enjoys. She is silly and out-there with the fictional lives of the students she’s never met before, and she can’t help but laugh at it all. There are some odd looks thrown her way, strangers confused as to why she was laughing by herself, and she doesn’t blame them. But she doesn’t care.

She catches sight of someone, a crowd of someone’s really, but he stands out, wide smile, soulful eyes and long hair that blows freely in the wind. It causes her to stop in her spot, Caitlin struck by his presence, breath catching in that moment. She feels like a cheesy cliche, the way she can’t look away, a flow of electricity through her veins, but it’s real and true and she can’t tear herself away.

Not once did she think he’d notice her standing, staring.

He does.

His was mid sentence, mouth moving a million miles an hour, hands gesticulating everywhere. It is an animated discussion at best, an argument at worst. But his attention flickers away from the guy with the glasses he was talking to, looks around. And he stops, mouth agape. The thought of ducking, of averting her gaze and ignoring him entirely floats through her mind, but she can’t find the strength to, not when he is watching her the way he is. It is indescribable, the feeling fluttering inside her, the spark the crackles between them. She feels is, is surprised by it, and the temptation of crossing the distance between them, of introducing herself to the cute boy and a smile with enough power to run a generator, passes through her mind. And judging from his reaction, she thinks - she hopes - he is thinking the same thing.

But her phone rings.

It breaks her trance, Caitlin ducking her head on embarrassment, red tinting her cheeks. And how she maintains a steady voice when speaking to Iris she has no idea, her friend calling to plead with her to start fifteen minutes early. The fear returns then, a rock in her stomach, slowing down her mind and movements. And she forgets about the cute boy, Caitlin forcing herself to move toward the tent where the booth was, time speeding up around her.

Iris is waiting outside, pacing around, her face lighting up as she sees Caitlin. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she squeals, arms thrown around Caitlin’s neck in a hug. “You’re a lifesaver, you know that? I owe you girl, big time.” Relief was coming out of her pores, Iris slipping her hand into Caitlin’s, tugging her into the back of the tent and pushing her into a seat.

“Wait -” And Caitlin’s heart is beating hard, the girl unable to deny reality for any longer. “What are you doing? What’s - what’s happening?”

“Lippie.” It is a simple answer, Iris leaning over to the table beside Caitlin which the girl hadn’t even noticed, rouge lipgloss in her hand. “Okay and pout.” Iris holds her face still, Caitlin sticking out her lips as bright red lipgloss is placed on her lips. It only takes a few moments for her to complete the job and Iris caps the product, placing it in Caitlin’s hand. “Strawberry flavoured, to give them something to crave later. Just remember to refresh regularly,” Iris reminds her, eyes sparkling like diamonds as she smiles at her friend. “And have fun girl. Who knows who you’ll meet in there.” The wink is a bit much, Caitlin thinks, as Iris spins her around and pushes her to where Lisa is standing, Caitlin stumbling before she finds her stride, unsure and hesitant.

The older girl is oblivious to her entrance, Caitlin having to tap her on the shoulder in order to get her attention. She spins around, lipstick smudged slightly, hair like a Maybelline commercial. “You’re replacing me?” At Caitlin’s meek nod, Lisa sighs in relief, shoulders falling. “Thank god. Damn Len owed a favour to her boyfriend. Can’t wait to ditch this place.” She pauses, gaze flickering up and down Caitlin before smirking. “Might come back on the other side though.” The words are smooth and red colours her cheeks and she stammers for words even after Lisa flounces out of the tent.

Wait, isn't Iris with Eddie? How is Barry her boyf-

Her thoughts are interrupted by the first person, a boy her age shuffling in, holding on to the rope that lead him from the entrance of the tent to the exit. He stops when he finds the knot to indicate he was beside her, the guy turning to his left where he was told she would be. It is a small peck on the lips, chaste, but not quick enough for him to feel cheated out of his money. It takes a few attempts for her to get the timing of it right, and she internally sighs in relief, the process not as nerve wracking as she imagined it to be.

There is a throng of people, both guys and girls, that line up in front of her tent, Iris bouncing as she sees the crowd of people waiting for a moment with Caitlin Snow, this mysterious beauty no one had yet to catch eyes upon. Curiosity and hormones can be a dangerous mix, but in this instance, it is only a profitable one.

One by one they come in, receive their kiss, and then slip out, the clock’s hand slowing down for her, the afternoon taking forever. She checks her watch frequently, quietly counting down the hours and minutes until it is all over and she can resume her life outside these fabric walls.

She glances at the time, relief filling her as she realises there is just five minutes left of her shift, five more minutes until she can leave the tent and not look back. She figures that there is either five more customers, or that she can attempt to hold the first one for as long as possible to avoid the line. The school funds wouldn’t miss out on the money and the other’s wouldn’t miss out on their kiss, another lad or lady waiting to take her place while she relaxes and enjoys the fair.

She calls for the gatekeeper-slash-money collector to send in another person.

And they do, a guy slowly feeling his way into the tent, stopping at the knot in the centre.

It’s the boy from before.

Her heartbeat picks up at the sight of him, a blush colouring her cheeks and she hides her face before realising that they couldn’t actually see her. He didn’t know who she was.

... It leaves her a little disappointed.

Words get caught in her throat, Caitlin opening her mouth to say something, anything, but she can’t. It would be difficult dragging this on when she can’t form words around him.

But he beats her to the task. “I’m sorry,” the guy rambles, standing there awkwardly, the blindfold over his eyes. The shirt is unique, Caitlin muffling a laugh as she reads the science pun on it, smiling brightly at the joke.“I’m not usually like this. It’s just that I lost a bet and this is the result and I’m so sorry.” He stresses the last words and she isn’t sure how to respond to it.

“I like your shirt,” she offers sweetly instead.

He pulls a face. “Really?” It is followed quickly by a wince, as though he realises how it sounds out loud and regrets it immediately. “I’m not saying you don’t understand it, because I’m sure you do. But everyone in our Science Club thinks it’s the corniest thing ever. And, I mean, they are so wrong, but I figure consensus there would be reflected in the real world, so....” He drifts off, hand lifting from the rope to rub the back of his neck in nervousness, Caitlin watching as the bottom locks of his hair got caught up in the action.

“It’s cute.” She sounds a little different and gosh, she hopes he can hear the subtle changes in her voice.

He doesn’t seem to, a smile stretching across his lips. “Okay, but would you wear it?” He is joking, but it doesn’t stop the image flashing through her mind. Couples stole each others clothing, she thinks. Or at least, she stole Ronnie’s jumpers when they were dating. She wouldn’t mind taking his shirts.

“Yeah,” she says eventually, realising he couldn’t see her nod in the affirmative. “I would.” The tops of his eyebrows come out from the blindfold and he is definitely sceptical. “Okay, not all the time,” she amends, “but I would wear it.”

He chuckles weakly, rubbing his exposed bicep as the silence between them draws on. “Sooo.... we’re doing this aren’t we?”

“You did pay for it.”

He nods at her words, but he doesn’t make a move. But then quietly, “I’m not sure what I should be doing.”

“Just stand there.” She wraps her arms around his shoulders. She caves to her feelings and plays with his hair, twirling the soft locks around her finger. Caitlin may be in love with the way it feels. “Is this okay?”

He gulps, voice strained. “Yep.”

And she is definitely affected by her little crush, voice soft as she leans in close, her eyelids fluttering closed. She stops when they are only an inch apart, hot puffs of air against her lips. “And is this okay?”

He nods, apparently losing his voice. His hand flexes beside his side and he itches to hold her.

Caitlin closes those scant centimetres between them, capturing his lips in a kiss.

The kiss is soft and gentle, Caitlin leaning into the guy in front of her more firmly as she feels warmth flood her being. The electricity from before shoots through her, and she likes the sensation, smiling against his lips as she lingers in the embrace.

The kiss is soft and gentle, until it’s not.

He lets go of the rope, choosing instead to hold her, hands on her waist as he tugs her closer, the boy deepening the kiss. It takes her by surprise, but she leans into it easily, hands moving from his shoulders, one cupping the back of his neck to hold him to her, the other carding through his locks. And she would feel embarrassed at her moan if he didn’t growl in response, the vibrations shooting through her, his fingers digging into her skin, the rope uncomfortable between them.

They pull away breathless and she considers pulling off his blindfold, wonders how he’ll react to seeing her. “That... was unexpected,” he chokes out.

“You’re telling me,” she sighs, slightly in love with the rasp in his voice, with the effect she had on him with just one kiss. And Caitlin is a hopeless romantic, already imagining the sound whispered in her ear as he tells her how perfect the kiss was, how he can’t wait until he gets to do it again. And she imagines the hands on her waist, strong and tight, imagines them holding her hand, holding her close, imagines those lips on her neck, lightly peppering kisses as he tells her how he missed her, how he wants her. It sends a hot flush through her and she has to force a cough out to disguise the whimper that leaves her at the thought.

His face freezes at her words, the smile falling fractionally. “Wait - unexpected in a good way or a bad way?”

“Unexpected in a I-wouldn’t-mind-doing-that-again way.” She rushes out the words before she could second guess herself, Caitlin’s eyes widening as she realises that yes, she actually said them out loud.

He looks surprised at the words, but it fades away, face lighting up with a grin. “You have a nice voice, you know that?”

She bites back her own smile, looking at him through her lashes. “That... that’s a new one. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he beams, pausing only to lick his lips. “Is that... strawberry?” A snort of laughter escapes her, Caitlin covering her mouth to muffle the sound, but he catches it, a smile, sweet and genuine, stretching on his face. “So I was wondering, do you wanna, I don’t know, grab some Big Belly Burger sometime?” He sounds nervous. She thinks it’s cute.

“Are you asking me out?” she asks coyly, a teasing smile on her lips. “But you don’t even know what I look like.”

“I don’t need to.” He says the words so confidently, so sure he wouldn’t care, and she feels the butterflies returning, a swarm of them inside her stomach, fluttering around and leaving her feeling dizzy with a feeling she couldn’t identify.

There is a disturbance at the back of the tent and Caitlin can hear voices coming from the direction. She thinks she hears Iris, thinks she hears her name. Caitlin turns to the mysterious guy, a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

He nods at her request and is only then that she rushes off, slipping out of the tent to answer questions for Iris. The girl relaxes at the sight of her, the young guy that was with Iris pushed inside. ”I’m so sorry,” Iris apologises, taking her hand. “Brad was late and I couldn’t find anyone to take over. Oh gosh, girl, you’re a lifesaver, thank you so much.” A smile stretches across Iris’ expression, more relaxed than she had been most of the day. “And now you’re finished.” She loops her arm in with Caitlin’s, “so lets go have some fun!”

The reluctance from Caitlin to leave is obvious, the girl looking back to the tent. And she eventually breaks away from Iris, the girl turning her head to look at Caitlin quizzically. ”I - I left something inside there,” she says. It’s not exactly a lie, a boy was left inside there. “You go ahead and I’ll catch up.” Iris nods slowly, a look in her eyes that tells Caitlin she hadn’t quite sold herself. But she does go and Caitlin rushes back in the tent, an apology ready on her tongue.

But when she goes back, the guy is gone.

Caitlin can’t stop thinking about the guy from the kissing booth, thinking of his smile and laugh and the way he kissed her so thoroughly, urgent and insistent as though she were the best thing his lips had ever touched, the way his hands were on her hips, the way they slid to her back, he made her feel like a goddess. And late at night she fantasises about him, those biceps where she could feel the strength underneath her fingertips, the hair that was longer than her school would allow him, the urge to run her fingers and touch it one she couldn’t resist.

He is a distraction she never anticipated, never thought she’d have to fight. But he pops into her head when she revises her AP Physics, her mind drifting from the formula to the pun on his shirt to his face, his mouth, his smile. It isn’t good and she’d been caught more than once in class daydreaming, the blush a permanent fixture on her face as Professor Wells calls her out.

He ruins her for other guys,

and she never even got his name.

It isn’t good, just how much time she accidentally devotes into thinking about the boy, and she wonders if she could make up another excuse to visit Iris at her school, to attend Science Club meetings and carnivals until she bumps into him and gets his name. And number. And maybe another kiss. She shakes her head, laughing at herself, as she refocusses on her work. It would be obvious and desperate on her part, and there was no way that he would still be single, not for this long. Not him.

It isn’t healthy Caitlin tells herself eventually, isn’t good for her to daydream over a boy she’s likely to never meet again, isn’t good for her to get so distracted from her school work, not when she needs the scholarship for college. And so she tries to forget him, forces herself to. Her energy is directed to the state science competition approaching in a few weeks, Caitlin a core part of her school’s team. Succeeding would be an incredible achievement and a highlight on her application forms.

It would be just what she needs to get out from under her mother’s shadow and show the world that she, Caitlin Snow, was a scientific genius in her own right.

And she succeeds in forgetting him.

Mostly.

The next time she really gets to spend time with Iris is at the State Science Competition finals. Not that Iris was competing; she was involved in the school newspaper and student council, but science bored her more than anything else. She however, was a wonderfully supportive friend... for Barry.

The boy was a part of the Central City Stars and as Iris’ official best friend she had gone to support him.

The sight of the competition shouldn’t have relaxed Caitlin, she knew how intelligent Barry was, the guy able to read at superhuman speeds and absorb the information just as quickly. He was the enemy, but he was also her friend. So she approaches them, Barry yelping as Caitlin bumps his hip with hers, surprising him. He glares at both her and Iris as the other girl start laughing, Barry crossing his arms in mock annoyance. “That’s it Cait, no more Mr Nice-Guy.”

“Barry I don’t think you can change. That’s definitely a part of your molecular structure.” There is confusion as to whether she was teasing him or complimenting him and he chooses to bite his tongue. She smiles widely at him, sliding her arm around his shoulder, giving him a one-armed hug. It is enough to crack his mood, Barry pulling her close, a whisper of good luck against the side of her head. “Glad to see you’ve come to support me Iris.”

Iris hesitates and Barry’s face falls at the sight. It is enough to have Iris cave, a smile on her face as she loops her arm with Barry. “Sorry girl, here for my school.”

“So what do I need to bribe you with to have you switching sides Iris?” she teases, Barry looking put-out as Iris pretends to ponder it over.

“A cute guy would be enough.”

Caitlin grins at her, turning her head to search the crowd. “Hey Oliver!” And they watch as a boy lifts his head, turning to her, a quizzical look upon his face. And Iris hums in approval, gaze flicking over the man before smirking at Caitlin. The other girl shakes her head, and he goes back to whispering with the blonde beside him.

“You thought about that?” Iris whispers, eyes dancing in mirth.

She laughs. “Of course, I’ve got eyes.”

“I’m right here you guys,” Barry complains, crossing his arms and pouting at the pair.

The synchronised ‘we know’ is enough to have them erupting into giggles.

it is also enough to steal the attention of the blonde beside Oliver, the girl squealing and dragging him along with her to the group.

“Caitlin!” Felicity almost stumbles into her, letting go of Oliver to pull her into a hug.

“Guys this is Felicity and Oliver, Felicity, Oliver this is Barry and Iris.” They all wave (most wave, not Oliver, he just watches, teases of a smile on his lips) and she hopes they get along, her best friends from school and her best friends from her childhood some of the closest people Caitlin had in her life. They exchange pleasantries and Barry looks at Oliver in awe, the boy so much bigger up close, questions on his diet and exercise regime rolling off his tongue. Caitlin and Iris try and muffle their laughter, to varying degrees of success, and Barry glares at them before turning back to Oliver.

The boys go off on their own, and Caitlin is almost positive that, despite Oliver’s apparent reluctance, they would be fast friends.

It leaves the girls together, Felicity rambling on about her revision on the developments of superconductors and microchips. It worries Caitlin, isolating Iris by talking science when she wouldn’t be able to keep up.

“You’re -”Iris starts and Caitlin holds her breath, unsure how Iris will react. Because while she teases Barry and Caitlin about their nerdiness, they grew up together, Felicity - she wouldn’t understand, not when she was teased incessantly in Vegas, no one able to understand her genius. “- Incredible,” Iris finishes, breathing out in awe. Her words have Felicity lighting up in pride and Caitlin could kiss Iris for that reaction, for the way it has Felicity stumbling over her words, denying the impressiveness of her knowledge.

“It’s not too late to jump ship,” Caitlin teases and Felicity laughs and this, she thinks, this is perfect.

But then she sees him. The boy from the the kissing booth. With his long, soft hair and wonderful smile and shirt with another ridiculous pun, it can’t be anyone else.

And of course he is, she thinks. He was a part of his own science club, he had told her that before. So of course he would come to the competition to represent his school. But she hadn’t thought that she’d meet him again, hadn’t thought it would be in this environment, surrounded by these people, this pressure on her to not get distracted. He catches her staring at him, his brows furrowing at he stares back.

And her shift in behaviour is slight, but its obvious, Felicity stopping mid sentence, mouth pulled into an ‘o’ and frowning in concentration  as she watches Caitlin, gaze sliding across to where the other girl was focussing. “Is that him?”

The question has Caitlin jumping, eyes owlish as her gaze darts between the pair of them, Felicity smirking and Iris almost vibrating in excitement. “No. What? Who?”

“Okay girl, if you plan on lying to us, you really need to work on that. So -” Iris strains her neck, looking side to side to catch a glimpse of the mysterious guy. “Who is it and how did you meet?”

“The cute guy she made out with at the kissing booth ages ago.” Felicity adjusts her glasses, swaying to the side to bump shoulders with Caitlin, the girl now stiff. “And the main star of all her fantasies.”

Iris turns to her quickly, eyes sparkling like diamonds, the smile on her face enough to weaken most people. “You never told me you met someone at the kissing booth Cait! You know I would have tracked them down for you.”

“Felicity, remind me never to tell you anything again. Ever.” The words lack much bite, Felicity looking too proud of herself to show any remorse for revealing that information to Iris.

“You should go over there, say hi, grab his number.” Iris nods like it is the obvious thing to do, like approaching the person you’ve been fantasising over and saying hello is an easy and simple thing to do. Which, maybe for her it is. But she was the hottest girl at Central City High and was dating the hottest (and sweetest) guy there so Caitlin takes her advice with a grain of salt.

“Are you insane?!” she hisses, Caitlin blushing at the mere thought of it. “I could never do that.”

“Cait, babe, you need to go for it.” And she thinks Iris is far too perceptive, her gaze softening as she takes Caitlin’s hands between her own. “You’re an incredible girl and he’d be crazy to reject you. Don’t - don’t do this to yourself.”

It is sweet, but strikes too close to home, the walls around her heart struck with the vibrations from the words. Because he already had. He left. She asked him to wait and he left, left her.

“He’s still competition Iris.” The girl nods, but Caitlin can see the cogs turning in her head. And she finds herself watching Iris as the competition nears its start and the groups congregate, Iris sidling to the Central City Stars, pulling Barry to the side. Caitlin knows she should be paying attention to her own group, but Iris’ face is lighting up and Barry’s is even worse. Her stomach swoops when they both turn and meet her gaze, the twinkle in their eyes unnerving her. Last time Iris had looked at her like that Caitlin had been roped into the Kissing Booth.

It is Ronnie who gets her attention, a hand on her shoulder and a concerned look on his face. She offers him a smile, forcing herself to forget about the conspiratorial look between her two friends. She turns back to Professor Wells, the man finishing his talk, the team walking to their table. Felicity sits at the head of the table, the leader of their team, Caitlin in between Lily Stein and Ronnie Raymond.

She turns her head, Barry at the top of his own table, Wally - Iris’ younger brother beside him, the pair discussing something. And then she sees him, the boy from the kissing booth having a much more heated discussion with the guy in glasses beside him. She thinks they might be arguing but it stops suddenly, the guy looking up and catching her watching them.

It has her ducking her head, Caitlin letting herself get caught up in Ronnie and his easy going demeanour, lets its wash over her, lets it help her forget the pressure of the competition, the nerves over a guy who had no idea who she is. He is relaxing, Lily and Felicity joining the conversation easily. And, when the adjudicator signifies the beginning of the competition, Caitlin feels as though she can take on the world.

The first round is general science questions, each team given a set of questions, the four allowed to discuss before the team captain answered. The timer for each question does heighten her nerves, but Caitlin is surrounded by her best friends and it is easy to forget that this isn’t a mock challenge set by Professor Wells.

They don’t miss a single question, but then, neither does Barry’s team.

The second round commences after a slight break, the rules changing. A buzzer is before each of them, the questions addressed to both teams, the points going to whichever school had the student answer it correctly. The questions were more specialised, choosing different branches of science and also mathematics. The initial questions were physics related and, while she was exceptional at the subject, Ronnie... he was a class above. He was doing spectacularly, though the other team had multiple individuals who also seemed to specialise in that area.

But then the boy hits the button and time all but stops for Caitlin.

Her heart rate picks up, the organ beating hard and fast, trying to escape from its confines in her chest. And it’s him, she knows it when he speaks, the same warm timbre, same softness and joy, even in this scenario. And she can’t tear her gaze away from him, can’t muster the strength to. He catches her, he always seems to catch her, but it isn’t enough.

He looks confused, but meets her gaze all the same. She doesn’t know what’s going through his head, assumes he thinks it is a method to throw him off. But she can feel the electricity, even if he can’t. And she’s crazy, she must be, to feel an intensity between them when he doesn’t recognise her. But she had spent months dreaming about this moment, and now it is happening, it doesn’t seem real. So she stares,

and he stares back.

Physics questions exhausted, they move on to biology, her speciality.

Caitlin moves without conscious thought, hitting the buzzer, her lightbulb flashing, indicating that she had reacted fastest. Her voice is crisp as she answers that it is mitochondria which is the powerhouse of the cell, gaze still locked with the mystery boy as the words roll off of her tongue. And she can see it, can pinpoint the very moment realisation hits him. It isn’t immediate, his brows furrowing as he struggles to place why the voice is so familiar, but then his eyebrows rise and his jaw drops, lips forming an ‘o’.

Only then does she have the strength to break the connection between them, Caitlin staunchly avoiding his gaze throughout the rest of the round. She can feel it, feel the intensity of it burning against her skin, his gaze unwavering. It licks at her skin, and she can feel it across all of her, Caitlin biting back her feelings, her need to look at him. Because if it is disgust in his gaze, if it is disappointment... she wouldn’t be able to handle that.

The Lily and Caitlin duo answering the majority of questions in chemistry and biology, though Barry does pose a challenge. Mathematics is Wally’s strong suit, and Felicity has a challenge facing the other two members of Barry’s team when it turns to technology. The race is too close to call, the weighting of questions varying depending on difficulty.

It is then that there is a break called, the teams disbanding to wait for the reveal of the final, the members jittery with excitement. Ronnie pulls them all into a group hug, the boy so sure they won against the other team. Caitlin isn’t quite so confident, but he had always been the voice of optimism when they were dating, it was one of the endearing things about him, even if it was the cause for more than one argument, and she remembers why he is universally liked.

Lily spots her parents in the audience and rushes off to him, Ronnie and Felicity lingering with Caitlin in the sidelines of the stage, discussing how they thought they went and ways they could improve. They are joined by Lily and Mr Stein, the small girl dragging her father to the group, the rest of them soaking up his advice and commendations. But there is a lull in the conversation, something distracting Felicity, and it wasn’t Oliver.

“So kissing booth cutie is staring at you,” Felicity says with a delighted smile, looking over Caitlin’s shoulder before waving at him. It has her stiffening, Caitlin determined to not cave in and check whether that was true.

“What?” Ronnie doesn’t sound sad or disappointed, merely curious at the descriptor and, for the millionth time, Caitlin is pleased that their breakup went as smoothly as it did. Mr Stein however, he looks sharply at the other team, a discerning eye on them as he scrutinises the boy.

“Nothing,” Caitlin says in response to Ronnie, burying her head in her hands. “And we are not calling him that!” It is a harsh whisper to Felicity, but she brushes it off. Professor Wells congratulates them on their effort in his own way, stiff and formal, with an undercurrent of genuine care and fondness for them all that has them beaming anyway. Mr Stein, he is more affectionate, pulling the girls into a hug, tells them that he was proud of them whether they win or lose, tells them they all have bright futures ahead of them. To Ronnie he offers a brisk handshake, the boy rolling his eyes, even as he smiles and accepts the handshake.

The bell rings indicating the break is over and a winner had been determined. So she turns to walk back to their table, Caitlin catching Barry watching her and smirking, while conversing with the boy from the kissing booth. She hates that she blushes as the look Barry gave her, plans her revenge, as he keeps on looking at her, wavering between the two. He gives up all pretence of having a conversation with the guy, especially as the kissing booth cutie (and damn it Felicity, she will get revenge for that) wasn’t wavering - he was most definitely staring at her.

They win, and she can’t help the smile and laughter that escape her when they pull aside and it finally hits her. They all walk off with a cheer, Ronnie pulling Caitlin into a hug and spinning her around. She laughs, her heart light and smile easy, the pair of them joined by Felicity and Lily, the group basking in the glory of their success. But then Ronnie goes off with his family, Felicity with Oliver. Caitlin looks around, almost hoping that the win would summon her mother, with arms open and words of support and pride spilling forth.

It is a fruitless dream, but she’s content. She has Mr Stein pull her into a hug, tears in his eyes as he tells her and Lily that he is proud of his two girls and he knew they would be special. It is nice, and Lily ribs him about Caitlin being his favourite daughter that has wet laughter coming from Mr Stein and half-hearted denials. He’s not her dad, but he is just as much her parent as her mother, Mr Stein there for her since her early childhood, the man a rock when her dad was sick and passed, Lily the sister she never had.

They offer her a ride home, but she shakes her head, Caitlin already having organised a ride with Barry and Iris. She leaves the Stein family in search for her friends, searching the crowd for the opposing team’s student support group. She finds Iris easily, the girl throwing her arms around Caitlin’s neck in a strong hug. “I knew you could do it girl!”

Barry huffs from her side, crossed arms and mock anger. “And here I was thinking you had my back Iris.” He breaks easily, pulling Caitlin into a hug of his own. “Congrats Cait, you guys were really incredible.” He whispers it against the side of her head, and there is no disappointment or envy in his tone.

Her smile almost splits her face as she squeezes him just that bit more before letting go. “Thanks Barry, you did pretty spectacularly yourself.”

“Yeah well,” and he beams at her words, hand rubbing the back of his neck as he becomes shy at the praise. “We’ll get you next year.”

It is enough to elicit a scoff from Caitlin, a rebuttal on her tongue. But it dies immediately, Barry and Iris exchanging looks, the pair communicating without words, the girl’s eyes widening. “What is it?” Caitlin sounds suspicious, she is suspicious, but it isn’t going to go well, she knows it.

“Well,” Iris starts, dragging the vowel along. ��Remember how I promised to take you home for the weekend, well, I promised Barry I’d take him out for dinner to celebrate so I organised another ride for you.” She rushes the words out, the pair preparing to run.

“Well I can come along for a celebratory dinner, especially since I won.” Her voice has an edge, her arms crossed and Iris winces at her choice of words.

“Did I say celebratory? I meant conciliatory. To make up for the fact he lost - you being there, it would be like salt in the wounds. Don’t worry, you’ll like Cisco.” And they make a run for it, leaving Caitlin confused and alone.

She uncrosses her arms, pouting at where her friends used to be standing, muttering to herself. “Who the hell is Cisc -”

She turns around and there he is, the mystery boy from the kissing booth. Right in front of her. “Oh.”

He offers her a wave, a shy smile on his face. “That would be me.” And she’s left speechless. Because he’s right in front of her. Talking to her. She hadn’t prepared for this, there were no binders on this scenario.  “So you’re Caitlin?” She can only nod mutely, wide eyed as she tries to process it all. He seems to be handling it better than her. “Well, congrats on the win. You guys were the better team, though Hartley would object to that.” He barks out a laugh and Caitlin finds herself falling that little bit more with him.

“I like your shirt.” It is a direct callback to their conversation from before, Caitlin more shy now open and vulnerable. “It’s cute.”

He sucks in a breath, and yeah, he definitely remembers her, remembers their last encounter. The butterflies return, fluttering away in her stomach, each flap of their wings forming tornadoes inside her.

“Okay,” and his voice is hoarse, Cisco taking a step closer to her. “But would you wear it?” They are closer now, so much closer. She can see the shine of his hair, the slight stubble across his jawline. She can hear the inflection in his tone, the fear of her response.

And Caitlin is almost breathless. “Yeah.”

He’s staring at her like she is a vision, a masterpiece that he is trying to memorise what she looks like, like she’s a mirage that would disappear if he were to reach over and touch her. It sends her heart into overdrive, the awe shining in his eyes. “What?” she asks, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, a small smile on her lips.

“I knew you’d be beautiful.” His voice is warm and she melts at the words, at the sincerity infused in his tone.

But still she rolls her eyes, determined to keep this light. “And you could tell by listening to my voice?”

“Your voice, your personality, your laugh. You were so beautiful and sweet and I knew, no matter what you looked like, it would be beautiful.” And well, crap. Because she was determined to keep it light and he went there, baring his heart out to her, Caitlin drowning easily in the emotion of those few words.

“Then why did you disappear?” She sounds so small asking the question that had haunted her for so long. “I said I’d be right back and when I returned you were gone.” There is a vulnerability in her tone, and his smile flickers and falls.

“The other dude showed up and your lipstick was all over my mouth, so I couldn’t really lie and say I was waiting for a kiss. I had to go.” He sounds so sad, voice low and soft and she’d drop it if she didn’t need answers so desperately, these thoughts plaguing her during the darkest nights, when her memories of their kiss morphed into nightmares of ‘what-ifs’ and ‘why’s’.

“You could have waited at the exit, I went around the tent three times hoping I’d just missed you.” There is an embarrassment which tints her confession, a secret she had cradled to her chest, not even admitting it to Felicity.

“I guess I was scared. There was a beautiful, smart, funny girl who is, by the way, an incredible kisser. I didn’t get why she’d be interested in me.” His head drops and she misses it already, misses how his eyes shine and how his laugh makes her heart skip a beat. The self deprecation kills her, Caitlin reaching out for him, her hand on his cheek, lifting his head back up. 

She thinks he sees her emotion, her acceptance, in her eyes, Cisco covering her hand with his own. “She was.” It is a croak, Caitlin choked up by her feelings. At the way his eyes dim, she amends herself, “She is.”

There is a spark of hope and she wants to stoke it, wants to see it grow, see it consume them both. “I mean, you have complete permission to slap me or stop me, I won’t fight you or be upset, but I’ve been dreaming about this since I first got to kiss you and I’d really like to do it again.” And again, he is able to render her speechless, his eyes, so dark and beautiful, darting between her own, looking for any sign of reluctance on her part. She can only nod, lips separating in anticipation. And it is her which makes the first move, leaning forward, nose skimming the skin of his cheek, but it is Cisco who closes the distance, a gentle hand on her chin, tilting it closer to him as he takes a breath before pressing their mouths together.

And it is just as glorious as she remembered.

It is different than before, the kiss gentle and soft this time, no urgency, no fear of the other person disappearing. It is almost fragile, the soft brush of lips together, once, twice, thrice. It is then that Caitlin can’t stand the teasing, lifting herself on her toes to press the kiss more firmly. It has him smiling against her, his hands settling on her hips and she can only hope that the rest of their kisses leave her like this. They break it slowly, Caitlin opening her eyes, sight blurry, until it focusses on him. Giggling isn’t something that she would accompany first kisses, but it isn’t their first, even if it feels like it.

“I’m pretty sure I owe you Big Belly Burger. Remember?” He sounds so unsure, as though she hadn’t replayed his voice for months, hadn’t stared at him all afternoon because she wanted him to recognise her, to mean what he had said. As though he hadn’t stolen her breath with a simple kiss. But still, it is enough to bring out a blush, Caitlin suddenly fascinated with the ground below, the toe of her shoe swiping lightly over the floor underneath it.

“Yeah, I remember.” She steals a glance through her lashes, confidence growing along with his smile.

He offers her his hand, a shy smile on his face. “Well come on then, I gotta make this the best first date ever, and we can’t waste daylight.”

Her heart skips a beat at the words ‘first date’, and she cannot believe this is real life. Her hand slides into his perfectly and she feels like it was made to hold her own, Cisco running his thumb over her knuckles. It is calloused and she knows there are stories she doesn’t know, stories she’ll enjoy learning about.

And she follows him without resistance as he leads her to his car, as he drives down to Central City where the best Big Belly Burger was located.

She follows him without resistance as they both fall deeper in love with each other.

Seven years, two PhDs, two Masters and a doctorate between the pair of them, Caitlin and Cisco were still going strong. It had been difficult, with different universities and streams of studies, but they had survived the distance, had thrived in their new environment and grown stronger as a pair. But they had been brought back together, and by Professor Wells of all people. When he had started STAR Labs he had wanted experience, but he also had wanted passion and innovation and youth. He had convinced Caitlin to come back to Central City and she convinced him to hire Cisco.

(There was no convincing needed, he was already on the list).

It was exciting, finally being in the same city, in the same apartment, in the same bed. The flutter of butterflies hadn’t disappeared, not in all the years of dating him. All she needed was a smile from him early morning when the sun bathed him in a golden glow, all she needed was a hand on her shoulder at work when she was struggling through the chemical composition required to trigger a chemical reaction. All she needed was a look, a touch, a smile, and she was right back to being a teenager on her first date, to the girl manning the kissing booth, unaware of the impact it would have on her life.

He means everything to her and so, when she hears from Professor Wells that Cisco had taken a half day without telling her, she grows concerned, Caitlin counting down the minutes before rushing out the door, heading immediately to their apartment.

It is with shaky fingers she tries to out the key in the door, Cisco having not responded to any of her texts. A sigh of relief leaves her as it finally, finally, slips into the hole, the door swinging open.

And she’s left standing at the entrance, shocked still at the sight before.

There is a booth at the entrance of their apartment, red fabric forming a tent, blocking off everything else except for the neon sign in front of her.

Fiancee booth. Entrance fee: your heart.

Caitlin fails to stifle the gasp that escapes her, hands moving belatedly to cover her mouth, breath hitching as the magnitude of what is about to happen hits her. It has her heart thundering in her chest, and she can’t get it under control, can barely make herself inhale oxygen.

She drops her stuff by the door, trembling fingers pulling the curtain aside so she could enter the tent. There are tears before she ever sees him, electronic candles around the structure, setting the atmosphere. And there he is, kneeling in the middle, Cisco dressed up in a tuxedo, an open velvet box outstretched in his hands, an anxious smile on his face as her gaze falls to the diamond ring in the box.

“Cisco.” It’s all she can manage, Caitlin left a blubbering mess at the sight before her. She drops to her knees before him immediately and so easily, the need to be closer to him, to be right by his side one she had accepted long ago. And he drops the box to his side, hands lifting up to cup her face, thumbs swiping across her cheekbones, calloused finger pads sending shivers through her. He’s shaking, thumb stuttering in its movements, even as she leans into his touch, Caitlin soaking everything about the moment in. He only stops to wipe his thumb against the thighs of his pants, Caitlin catching the glitter of water on his skin from the glow of the candles.

And oh, she thinks. I’m crying.

“Welcome to your fiance booth Cait, you enter alone and leave with a fiance.” His voice trembles and his eyes are shining.  

“Should I be worried about the line that was behind me,” she jokes, a weak smile on her face.

But it is enough, Cisco relaxing, a chuckle leaving him as he shakes his head at her words. “It’s only for you Cait, my heart is only for you.” His voice is more steady and she can’t help herself, Caitlin tilting her head, a lingering kiss pressed against the inside of his wrist. She holds her lips there, the feeling of his pulse underneath her skin sending chills through her. The tears start to well up once more, the sight of Cisco blurring before her, and she whispers her confession of love against his skin.

His other hand strokes the other side of her face, Cisco tucking the hair behind her ear so that he could continue. And she wants to pause moment, wishes it were possible just spend her life as happy as she was in this singular moment of time, her heart threatening to burst from joy. 

She mourns the loss of contact, Cisco eventually letting go of her face, Caitlin no longer crying. And he picks up the box. There isn’t a question of her response, she had known it for years now, had only waited for the right time. The temptation is there to nod, to say ‘yes’ and slide the ring on her finger in that moment, the seconds going by without her being his fiancee almost agonising. But she knows Cisco, knows he prepared this night for so long, and she can’t fathom interrupting him in it. 

"I love you,” he breathes, and crap, crap, crap, that’s all he needs to say for the tears to restart, the adoration evident in his voice. She wipes the tears away desperately, paws at her cheeks, cursing her emotion. Because he pauses and she just wants him, wants him to ask the question, wants to tell him yes, wants it all now.

“I love you too Cisco,” she sniffles, a smile on her lips and the tears finally stop, her vision to Cisco, just Cisco. She can see his nervous grin and she wants to kiss it all away.

“I’ve loved you for so long Cait, ever since I kissed this incredible girl at a kissing booth and she thought I had a cool shirt. I knew then there wouldn’t be any one else who would come close to you.” She whimpers at his words and she knew it too, knew her life wouldn’t be anywhere as incredible if she didn’t have him to share it with. Her heart aches for him, for the tremble in his voice as he tells her these words. “I never thought it’d be possible for you to like me back, to love me back. But by some miracle you did, you do, and I thank God for that every single day, thank Him that you’re the first thing I can see in the morning, the last thing I see at night. I thank Him because you’re my soulmate Cait, there isn’t any one in the world I could love like I love you. You make me happy Caitlin Snow, so very, incredibly happy and you have my heart, my soul, you have all of me.” It hurts, physically hurts, to stay still and listen as Cisco talks, Caitlin itching to hug him, to pepper his face with kisses, to show him just how happy he makes her. He had always been more eloquent with matters of the heart. But she doesn’t, forces herself to wait for him to ask that question with bated breath, her heartbeat stuttering as he opens himself up to her. “I’m yours, I always have, always will be. I’m just hoping that you’re mine -” She’s already nodding at his words, the smile spreading across her lips, “ - and that you’ll be okay making it official.” He proffers up the ring to her, Cisco offering her a smile that makes her fall in love with him all over again. “Will you marry me Cait?”

She nods, laughs in glee as he slides the ring on her finger, Caitlin pouncing on him, pinning him to the ground as she hovers above him. She takes the moment to pause, to absorb this and him and she hadn’t seen it coming all those years ago when she agreed to help Iris with her fundraiser. He looks so beautiful she thinks, memorising the sight of Cisco on his back, hands by his head, fingers interlocked with her own. He looks up at her, smile splitting his face in half, and she can’t contain her sigh. “Do you think that we would have got together if we didn’t do the kissing booth?”

The words slip out absentmindedly, Caitlin unaware she was even thinking it until she hears the words come from her mouth. Cisco tilts his head, the hair splayed against the floor underneath him. “I dunno Cait, I can’t imagine my life without you. I don’t. There’s no point in torturing myself like that because I have you. God, I still can’t believe you said yes,” he chuckles, awe and adoration in his gaze. “I don’t think there is a universe out there that doesn’t have you and me together.” He says the words so simply, but the force of it against her heart, it is overpowering.

He’s beautiful and he’s smart and he’s sweet and he’s kind. And he’s mine.

It is a fiance booth, but they still got their kisses.

No blindfold necessary.

[uselessnocturnal]

Stupid for You

olivarry secret santa 2018 | blind date

summary;; it starts with a blind date and a mistake but slowly becomes so much more.

notes;; This is my Secret Santa gift to @likeaspeedingarrow and I think I managed to combine elements from all the tropes you gave me :) I hope you like it and happy holidays! // special thanks to @temmie-loony and @zealousconnoisseurrebel for helping me out

read the full fic on ao3

—————————————————

Barry has been waiting in Stubbs for twenty-seven minutes now. The waiters have started giving him pitying looks as they serve him yet another glass of tap water – even the lady sitting in the corner of the café shoots him a sympathetic glance over the rim of her mug before returning to an animated conversation with her friends.

Fingers drumming against the marble table, he ducks his head, feeling oddly exposed sitting in the centre of the coffee shop alone at a table for two. His phone lights up and his heart leaps to his throat, having finally been acknowledged.

the best: sorry, barr! i’m going Christmas shopping with eddie

nerd: you only have two days left!

nerd: how have you not bought everything?

the best: i know i know sorryy

the best: rain check?

It takes all of Barry’s self-control not to groan out loud. It’s not the first time Iris has cancelled plans with him for her most recent love interests (in this case it’s Eddie but the difference is that Barry actually likes this guy). He’s not jealous in any way – Iris is practically his sister! – in fact, he’s happy for them; even then, it would have been nice if she’d texted him before he ended up humiliating himself in his sad isolation.

For goodness sake, everyone thought he had been stood up by a blind date! A single half-eaten slice of cheesecake sits temptingly in front of him – a pity gift that the waiters blessed upon him. It would’ve been humiliating if the cake hadn’t tasted so good.

All things considered, though, he couldn’t be too bitter. It’s some twisted sense of tasting his own medicine – especially since he’s definitely left Iris waiting at least an hour and a half before at some convention.

He’s just about to leave when his eyes flicker to the door, its bell still ringing and everything stops.

Oliver Queen walks through the door. Oliver-freaking-Queen.

There’s a surprising lack of reaction amongst the other patrons – either they don’t notice (too distracted by their own conversations) or they don’t recognise him. Heck, Barry’s not even sure if it actually is Oliver Queen; the man is only wearing a thin autumn jacket over a shirt and jeans which is ridiculous considering the sub-zero temperature outside.

Barry is frozen. Every thought in his brain is screaming for him to get a grip and look away or act casual or something – anything is better than blatant staring! Really, who can blame him. Oliver Queen is a god walking the mortal grounds. Everything from his clear but guarded blue-green eyes and his muscles to his confidence and the way he can silence a crowd with a single look. If Oliver Queen claimed the sky was purple, several would probably actually check.

Though not exactly a celebrity, the Queens are relatively well known: especially with Robert Queen getting lost at sea and the consequent plummet of Queen Consolidated. Oliver Queen himself had been a bit of a legend before, having been a well-known billionaire’s playboy son. Now, however, he seems to keep to himself, slowly building his father’s company back up and keeping away from the tabloids. There really isn’t that much Barry knows about him – except that Oliver is very hot.

Barry is still watching at Oliver as the man scans the room. Next thing Barry knows, Oliver has those demanding blue eyes fixed on him and is striding in a clear and direct path to Barry’s table.

He’ll deny it in the future, but he panics.

There are literal seconds before Oliver reaches his table and, in true Barry Allen style, he tears his gaze away and attempts some semblance of nonchalance by jamming his glass to his mouth before realising that it’s empty and now he looks like even more of an idiot.

Whether Oliver doesn’t notice or chooses to spare Barry the humiliation, it’s a true blessing that he decides not to mention anything.

Oliver stops by the empty seat opposite Barry and Barry makes proper eye contact for the first time. There’s a slight tilt in Oliver’s lips – the kind of framed smile that people have as they’re about to make an important business transaction. And yet, Oliver shifts his weight from one foot to another, his eyes slightly uneasy.

He’s nervous, Barry realises, along with something along the lines of whythefuckohmygoshwhat.

“Hi...ah,” Oliver begins his question with a lack of fluency that is uncharacteristic for him, “are you my blind date?”

Now, Barry’s had a lot of shocks today and it seems to be snowballing to become even more chaotic but this? This was ridiculous.

All it takes is a single question to unleash the rambling mess that is Barry Allen.

It’s as though he’s lost his brain to mouth filter and his limbs aren’t even functioning properly and oh gosh is he trying to stand up?

“I’m Barry,” he introduces, scrambling up to shake the other man’s hand, almost knocking over his glass, “I’ve been here for quite a while...not that I’m trying to make you feel bad! I just - uh -”

Oliver takes Barry’s warm hand in his own, skepticism colouring his eyes.

“Right - ah - sorry,” Barry’s head lowers praying that the burning in his cheeks isn’t obvious, “Should we sit down? I think- I think we should sit.”

With all the grace and poise of a CEO in the making, Oliver takes the chair opposite Barry’s, barely drawing any attention to his practically incoherent speech.

“Oliver Queen” he reinforces, smiling slightly in the hope that it’d put the young man at ease, “it’s nice to meet you, Barry.”

There’s almost frantic head bobbing, “Yeah, I know. That you’re Oliver, not the second part,” he winces, suddenly realising how creepy that sounds, “I’m sorry, I tend to go off when I’m nervous, I’ll stop now. It’s nice to meet you too. You can have some of this cheesecake.”

Letting out a less-than-obvious breath, Barry sinks into his chair, watching Oliver carefully poke at the cake with a fork and praying that maybe - just maybe - he’d be able to control his speech

There’s no obvious sign that Oliver’s getting more comfortable but he’s not leaving either so that’s a good sign, Barry decides. And then it hits him: Oliver’s here on a blind date. He thinks I’m his blind date.

Really and truly, Barry has messed up.

“So, Barry, what do you work as?” Oliver starts, somehow composed despite Barry’s apparent humiliation.

Good. Great. This is a question Barry can answer without messing up. “I’m a CSI at CCPD - assistant CSI actually. I’ve been working there for a couple of years now.”

Oliver nods like that makes sense and hey, maybe this conversation isn’t too bad after all!

“There have been the recent cases,” Barry remembers, his eyes lighting up, “they’re so...bizarre.”

Immediately, he launches into the story of a murder involving a banjo and a microwave and Oliver listens in fascination, a small smile on his face as he listens to the brunette speak with such passion.

“Why a CSI?” Oliver asks, leaning forward in his seat.

Barry pauses, the usual lie already sitting on his tongue instead decides to be honest, “Well, my father got framed for my mother’s murder.”

Oliver stills suddenly, hyperaware of the feelings and guilty for stumbling upon a sensitive topic but Barry carries on, trying to veer the conversation away from this sombre tone, “I am learning to accept it...it’s not easy and I’m never going to stop trying to find the real killer but it no longer plagues me at night.”

He offers Oliver a soft and sincere smile, a show of support that someday it will get better.

“Even so,” Barry adds sheepishly, “I’m a bit of a science nerd so I probably would have ended up in a similar situation anyway.”

He doesn’t really give Oliver time to respond, instead plunging into another unique topic of conversation, “Ya know zombies do exist?” before going on to describe zombie ants and they get sucked in to their own bubble of a world which is all hope and light and God, how did Barry get on to talking about penguins.

“They’re the most loving of all animals!” Barry insists, arms flailing, “they huddle and everything!”

Oliver’s arms rest on the table as he laughs. A true laughter that kind of resounds throughout the coffee shop, the sound of the smile in his eyes overflowing into the air.

It’s that moment Barry knows he really is in trouble.

Watching Oliver grin, all-teeth and eyes, hearing his laughter...Barry knows he would do anything to keep that kind of joy on Oliver Queen’s face. Which is ridiculous because he’s crushing on a guy who thinks Barry is his date when he really isn’t.

This is a mess.

It only gets worse when there’s suddenly a mess of blonde hair and scarf appears in the corner of his vision.

“Ah, hi,” she starts, readjusting her glasses and turning to Oliver, “Are you Oliver?”

One glance at his narrowed eyes and she ploughs on, “I’m so sorry – there was this bus and some really bad traffic and I knew I was going to late…but I’m here now!”

A hesitant laugh escapes her and she sticks out a firm hand, “Felicity. Smoak. Laurel Lance set us up I think?”

The bubble doesn’t pop. It freezes and shatters.

There’s a sinking feeling in Barry’s stomach. Oliver’s eyes widen infinitesimally, not-quite hurt rolling off him in waves, as he turns to stare questioningly at Barry who ducks his head, avoiding further eye contact and hopes that the burning shame is not at all obvious.

The woman, Felicity, holds her hands up and gestures vaguely to the two, “Wait. Am I- am I interrupting something?”

Yes. Barry wants to say but how can he when the situation is his fault anyway.

Through his lowered lashes he can see Oliver tilt his head and put on a half-smile.

“No, not at all. Barry and I were just catching up,” he reassures her with all the ease of a CEO.

Barry’s head shoots up, all too willing to go along with the lie, “Ye-yeah, no, don’t worry about it. I was just leaving.

Stumbling to his feet like a deer just learning to walk - all limbs and no coordination - Barry gathers his jacket up and gives Felicity what he hopes is a reassuring smile but could be mistaken for a grimace, painfully aware that his ears are scarlet and refusing to meet Oliver’s eyes.

“Sorrysorrysorry,” he mumbles - both to Felicity for being in her way and to Oliver for...everything, “it was nice - uh -seeing you, Oliver.”

Head lowered, he speed walks (read: scrambles) out of the café where the bitter wind slaps him.

For a moment he stands there, the chill clawing into his bones, absolutely mortified.

What the hell did he just do?

continue reading here

[londone-fog]

Friday, Never Hesitate- Reddie Soulmate AU

AO3 Link

The next day, his mother told him to swallow a new pill. Oblong, slightly pink in color. It was bitter on his tongue, and he didn’t like it. The back pain went away after a couple of days.

But his Mama told him to keep taking them.

He didn’t want to upset her.

Chapter One- Monday

Eddie had been laying on the freshly mown grass of his back lawn, running his palms over the prickles, tickles taking over his nerves. The sky was an unmarred blue expanse, not a single cloud blocking his view. The gentle breeze ruffling his hair wasn’t quite cold, but warned of the coming season. He was seven years old.

His mother hadn’t known he was out there, taking in the lovely afternoon. He had just gotten results from his allergy test earlier that month, so he wasn’t allowed outside so much anymore. He was allergic to grass, according to his mother, but he felt fine now, calm. His new inhaler was sore against his bottom through the thin fabric of his back pocket. His palms were still smarting a little from getting pushed in the hallway at school. He’d landed hard, but he didn’t tell his mom. He already wasn’t allowed to run or dig in the dirt with the other kids, he was too sick. He’d only get shoved again.

But Eddie wasn’t thinking about that now. He thought about today’s lesson.

She told them about soulmates.

Soulmates were like a best friend. They wouldn’t leave you behind. They loved you unconditionally. Everyone had one. They grew in when you were about Eddie’s age, coloring your skin in a way that only one other person could match. Like your adult teeth; just something that happens when you grow up. Kids in his class chattered about their parent’s soulmarks, and how they were colored, how they sometimes looked like shapes or objects. The few that were lucky enough to have their own proudly displayed them, a few even getting in trouble for shedding clothing in order to properly show off.

Eddie did not have his yet.

He thought his mother did. She had a splotchy mark right above her elbow that was usually covered by the sleeves of her dresses and blouses. He asked her about it one day, a long while before that day. She became very upset, and he never brought it up again. Hers was not colorful, though. It was a monochrome grey color, washed out.

Eddie ran his fingers gently, over the soft, unmarked skin of his arm. What would his mark look like? What colors would it be? Would it hurt, like scraping your knee? Would it be like drinking soda, light and funny feeling?

“Eddie, are you- EDWARD, YOU GET OUT OF THAT GRASS THIS MINUTE!” Eddie turned his head to see his mother standing on the porch, plump face flushed with anger. He scrambled to get inside, but she blocked his path with her rotund body.

“What did I tell you about grass? It flares up your allergies. Why aren’t you listening to me.” She sounded very upset, and shame began bubbling up in the pit of his stomach.

“I’m sorry Mama. I don’t want you to be sad.”

“What happens if you get sick, Eddie? You could die, you could get hurt. Then I’ll be all alone.”

Those words rang through Eddie’s head as he lay on his bed later that night. Hot tears of shame dripped out of his eyes, his mother’s anger and upsetness clinging to his insides.

He made a promise to listen to her forever. He didn’t want her to be alone.

-

Eddie went up to his teacher the next day, a question burning bright in his little mind.

“Mrs. Jones, I have a question.”

“Of course, Eddie. What’s the problem?”

“It’s about soul mates. What happens when they aren’t colorful? Everyone says they’re colorful, but my mom’s isn’t.”

She looked around, making sure they couldn’t be overheard.

“Well, soulmarks can go grey when one soulmate dies. It’s really very sad.”

“My dad died.”

“That’s probably why. Don’t worry about it too much, okay? Go play.”

And he shuffled along with the rest of the students, mind heavy. Of course his mother was so protective. Eddie’s dad died when Eddie was only a baby. He was sick.

How terrible it must be to have someone so important die like that. Eddie couldn’t get sick. He wouldn’t.

-

The air had grown a little colder when Eddie made his very first friends.

The air was growing crisp with the feeling of fall. Leaves began to change, leaving behind green newness for burnt oranges and reds.

Eddie sat alone under one of the large oak trees littered throughout the recess yard, a book nestled in his lap. It was a book with pictures, large and colorful. A prince searching far and wide for his soulmate, a beautiful princess with a pretty soul mark. He traced the smooth lines on the page with the tip of his index finger.

Suddenly, his head was knocked back with the force of something hitting it. It fell into his shock wide mouth and fought to get to his eyes. He cautiously raised his hands to his face, trying in vain to wipe the grainy substance off of him. Sand. Of course. He heard sniggers coming from whoever threw it, hot tears starting to spill from his eyes. Sand gritted against his teeth and stuck to his tongue, rattling with every breath. He could feel his throat closing, panic setting in.

He needed his inhaler. He reached to grab it out of his back pocket, but it slipped from his clumsy grasp, clattering on the ground.

But then, he felt a warm hand on his back, and his world changed forever.

“Is this yours?” asked a voice, a little raspy. His inhaler was pushed into his hands, and he nodded thankfully, taking a large puff and feeling it settle against his throat. A pair of hands, probably belonging to the voice, pushed the sand out of his eyes and hair. When Eddie finally opened his eyes, he was staring a Richie Tozier. Richie Tozier who was in trouble for talking all the time for talking and making jokes, and had glasses that took over his whole face. Richie Tozier who had picked up Eddie’s inhaler to help him in his earliest time of need.

“Thank you,” Eddie mumbled.

“Why were those kids mean to you?” Richie asked, barely even acknowledging the gratitude shown to him.

“I dunno. I told them I can’t play because I’m sick. My mom says I can’t run cause I’ll get hurt.”

“You won’t get hurt. That’s stupid.” Richie’s elbows were covered in bandages and he had skinned knees and holes in his jeans. Getting hurt seemed like an inevitability.

“It’s not. And saying stupid isn’t very nice either.”

They regarded each other in silence for a moment, before Richie began laughing. It was a boisterous and howling thing, and it was the lightest and most joyous sound Eddie had ever heard.

“I like you. Do you want to come play with me and Bill?” He extended a finger towards Bill Denbrough, a lanky boy with mousy hair who spoke with an awful stutter. He rose his eyes up toward them, raising a hand and waving a little.

Eddie thought of how his mom told him that the other boys are too rough for him, that he had to keep himself safe. But these boys seemed just fine.

“Okay. My name’s Eddie.”

“I know that Eddie Spaghetti, we’re in the same class remember?”

And he let himself be led into the open embrace of friendship.

-

It was a Monday night. Nearly a week had passed since Eddie met his newfound friends. They played during recess everyday, laughing at Richie’s jokes and digging tunnels in the hard-packed sand of the playground.

Eddie layed in bed, head singing with fond memories. Soulmates were no longer the focus of his little brain; he had all he needed right here. Good friends and his Mama, who fretted over him when he told her about the sand attack. He told her excitedly about his new friends, and she was very quiet. But she couldn’t have been upset. Not when Eddie was so happy.

His back hurt, though. It had been hurting all day, a dull throb right between his shoulder blades, the exact place where Richie had placed his hand as he handed Eddie his inhaler last week. But the pain had become sharper. He didn’t want to worry Mama, but he needed to do something.

Eddie walked carefully down the stairs, socked feet making little noise against the carpeting. His mother laid asleep in her chair, television still washing the room in a blue glow.

“Mama,” he said gently, shaking her awake. “Mama, my back hurts really bad.”

“Where?” she asked, sitting up ramrod straight. “Show me.”

He pointed to his back, right in the middle. She lifted up the back of his shirt, quietly examining the source of his pain. Eddie could barely catch her breathing hitch, before she forced his shirt back down again.

“You must be having an allergic reaction. Or you’ve been playing too much with those other rowdy boys. I’ll go to the doctor tomorrow and get you some medicine. Go back to bed.”

And he went.

The next day, his mother told him to swallow a new pill. Oblong, slightly pink in color. It was bitter on his tongue, and he didn’t like it. The back pain went away after a couple of days.

But his Mama told him to keep taking them.

He didn’t want to upset her.

[iheardarumorxxx]

Midnight Sun, Chapter 6 - Blood Type

Did you guess that this chapter opened up with Weirdo stalking Bella? Because you guessed totally right.

Our ‘hero’ is going on about how he spends the entire day of school watching Bella through the surface thoughts of other people. See, it’s totally okay for Eddie to use people as his own personal Bella CCTV, because they are paltry and insiginificant hoomans. Who cares that it’s extremely creepy and invasive not just to Bella, but to the people who’s heads Eddie has decided to hijack. It’s not as if they matter anyway, right? 

He shits on both Mike and Jessica again and I’ve already ranted at length about why neither of them deserve it, so I’m not gonna do it again. But I am gonna talk about Angela. I don’t like Angela. It’s not really her fault that I don’t like her. She’s soft spoken and sweet and kind, but the problem that I have with Angela is the same problem that I have with Esme. She exists to be a soft, fragile woman, hand-wringing and the only ‘good’ friend that Bella has. She doesn’t actually have a personality to speak of. 

And now at lunch, Eddie is TRYING SO HARD to set up a red herring about why Bella is Looking Sad after glancing at the table he’s usually sat at. He goes on for like a whole ass paragraph wondering if she’s sad because she’s gonna miss the stupid dance that she’s made perfectly clear she doesn’t want to go to. He’s supposed to be an uber smart Pire with a brain so much bigger than mine, but the thing is? I can use fucking context clues to understand that Bella looked at the Cullen table, noticed that Eddie wasn’t there, and then looked sad because he wasn’t there.

See, Eddie. I don’t need your stupid mind-reading powers to figure shit out.

I'd never paid much attention to a human's diet before.

Edward Anthony Masen Cullen. YOU WERE A FUCKING HUMAN BEING LIKE A CENTURY AGO. Yes, I give you that diets and shit have changed since you needed to eat food, but the fact still stands that you absolutely had to eat food yourself at one time. AND YOU HAVE TWO MEDICAL DEGREES ON TOP OF THAT. If you were, like, in your fucking 500s or something, I might buy this bullshit (excluding the fact that you have two medical degrees). But you aren’t. You died in, like, 1901. 

I motioned with my finger for her to join me.

Small point for SM and Midnight Sun here. In Twilight, when this scene happened, Bella said that he lifted his hand and twisted his wrist and like, crooked his finger in a gesturing motion and it was way too many words just to say ‘he motioned me over with his finger’ or ‘he beckoned me over’. At least this book didn’t pull that shit just to pad out the word count. This time.

"Why don't you sit with me today?"

A nitpick, if you will. The way that Eddie boy phrases this question makes it feel a lot more like a command. He isn’t asking if Bella wants to sit with him. He’s not really leaving that clear No option open for her with this phrasing. It feels extremely controlling and based on what we know about Eddie and his controlling tendencies as a boyfriend, I don’t like it.

Eddie and Bella are talking, all the while Eddie is going on about how he’s SO DANGEROUS and shouldn’t be friends with Bella and how part of him wishes she would just get up and leave because that would be safer for her. 

Hey, Eddie. Why don’t you get up and leave, you pissant? Sure, he’s going on and on about how it’s hard to stay away from her and how he’s so IN LUV with her, but dude? If you genuinely think you’re dangerous and shouldn’t be around her DON’T BE AROUND HER. You can’t pull this stupid shit where you go on and on about how she shouldn’t wanna be your friend or be around you while also asking her to eat lunch with you and hanging around her and STALKING HER AND SNEAKING INTO HER BEDROOM AT NIGHT. You don’t get to have it both ways.

"What are you thinking?"

NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS DUDE! IF SHE WANTED TO FUCKING TELL YOU WHATS ON HER MIND, SHE WOULD! GOD FUCK OFF.

Right. Okay. I’m good. Caplocks off.

Ugh.

^^^ That is actually written in the book. And not as dialogue, either. It’s thought. It’s Edward’s thought and inner monologue. Wanna know why that sucks? There are a lot of reasons but the biggest one is this: SM goes out of her way to make it seem like Eddie is so old-fashioned and fancy. She makes him say some of the most ridiculous things in the interest of making it clear to us, the readers, that he is sophisticated. The Pire that is 109 and talks like a Walmart Brand Mr. Darcy just thought ‘ugh’. 

I chided her

STOP with the creepy fucking paternal imagry. God, I am not a psychologist, and I would never presume to assume anything about anyone, but the way SM writes Edward and Bella’s relationship (and really all of the relationships in this series) reeks of Daddy Issues.

Mr. Banner was blood typing today.

This is absolutely fucking bonkers to me, and in the original Twilight, it was only an excuse for Bella to show of her FEAR of blood. Her ridiculous fear that was off the charts and over the top. They were just doing cell division, like, two days ago? And now they’re blood typing. And instead of theoritically doing so, they’re blood typing the actual students. Without written permission slips or warning anyone who might actually have issues with blood or needles in order to let them opt out. This isn’t how high school curriculam works, and it is absolutely not realistic. Even if it’s just a special one off thing, you can’t just stab kids with needles without parental consent.

but I wasn't hearing Debussy's notes for long

Bitch I fucking CALLED IT that he was listening to that Debussy song that first time he mentioned his favorite CD. Brownie points to me.

I wasn't going to stand around arguing with the wretch.

Leave Mike Newton ALONE, dude. And ‘the wretch’ is real rich coming from the guy who thought ‘Ugh’ a few paragraphs back.

Anyway, Bella got so sick and dizzy from one little drop of blood that she’s about to pass out on the sidewalk. It was stupid in Twilight and it’s stupid here. If Mike had lost an arm and was just pulsating blood? Sure, I’d buy the reaction, but a little tiny prick on the finger? And he sits like a couple of tables away from her? It’s an over the top reaction and if I was anyone in that class, I would think she’s doing it for attention. 

Eddie just eats this shit up, though. Because its an excuse to fawn all over Bella and be a big strong man to rescue her. 

The ‘I usually am’ in response to Bella saying Eddie was right about something made me see red for a minute. I fucking HATE this pompous, stuck up, douche canoe. 

"People can't smell blood."

Good news, guys. I’m a vampire. I know this because I, too, can smell blood. I am now sparkley and Better Than You. So it is written.

But in all seriousness? Ed? You’re a fucking moron. 

Anyway, Bella gets out of going to gym by ‘looking pale’ and Eddie comes to the conclusion that we have all figured out long before this that Bella thinks Eddie is attractive. Bella goes against Mike’s clear wishes not to invite Eddie to the beach with them, and invites him anyway, but because it’s La Push and, ya know, Werewoofs, Eddie can’t go to there. But instead of just saying he has plans or doesn’t like the beach or something, he just shits all over Mike some more and it makes me angry. 

I was almost angry that she was leaving me.

Okay, I’m gonna level with you guys and share something personal. I had a really possessive boyfriend in college. Like, had to check in, let him know where I was and who I was with and all of that shit. He got mad at me if he didn’t hear from me for a while and was constantly accusing me of cheating on him and shit. That line right there? That like really freaks me out and gives me flashbacks to that terrible relationship. This is a red flag if I’ve ever seen one. Things like this are why people say that Edward Cullen is an abusive boyfriend.

And right after this line, he’s fucking dragging her to his car and insisting that he drive her home. It’s just creepy, guys. It’s all the warning signs that someone could ever need about someone, but it’s being treated as this loving relationship and it just makes me so uncomfortable. 

There is something I wanna say in regards to Eddie. As a character, it’s okay for him to be kind of an asshole. There’s room for growth in that, there’s something for the character to strive to change. But his behavior is painted in this light that makes it seem like he’s wonderful and amazing, all rose colored love fantasy, and so he never changes and never learned to be a better person. And the shades of abuse are there, not even hidden in subtext but overt, and that is why I hate Edward so much. Not because he’s an asshole, but because I’m supposed to like him just the way he is, and not hope that he changes for the better.

The way that Bella talks about her mom makes me mad. That’s more of a rant for Twilight, but even just the things she says out loud are annoying. She talks about the woman like she’s incapable of taking care of herself, despite the fact that the woman raised her for 16 years. In Twilight it’s worse, because when she even bothers to think about Renee at all, she’s talking down about her.

They’re in front of Bella’s house having a dumb conversation about Eddie being DaNgErOuS again, and I want to puke with how heavy handed the ‘romance’ is supposed to be. Bella is like ‘i don’t care if you want to murder me and leave my corpse out in the woods’ and Ed is like ‘well... actually...’ and I hate that I’m supposed to think that they’re in love.

They’re having some more inane small talk. Literally this entire relationship is just small talk until they get to the sparkley meadow and make out a little, and then it’s ‘i would die for you and love you so much and you’re my everything’ like zero to sixty. I will admit that I fell for my partner really quickly, but we also talked about more than the fucking weather and our families. We had actual meaningful conversations and got to know one another.

This chapter ends with Eddie telling Bella to be careful at the beach (like any good father would) and laughing at her when she gets annoyed about it. The fact that he laughs at her expressing annoyance pisses me off. And he calls her an angry kitten again. 

God, but I hate this asshole. 

That’s chapter six, guys. Feel free to reach out in messages and DMs if you wanna chat, or if you have any recommendations for what my next book recap should be. Feel free to buy me a snack, my CashApp cash tag is in my bio. Until next time!